#despite both of them being equally willing and able to commit violence

[ollieseastone]

Shiny duo Wicked AU where Pearl is Elphaba and Gem is Glinda is this anything?

[vox-off]

what started as a way to pass the time while miserably sick for two weeks has become a new hyperfixation and i have catapulted myself face first into the wayhaven chronicles and i wanna yell about my detectives under the cut

Eilidh is reserved, kind in action if not in affect, patient, logical, soft-spoken, and iron-willed. Her backbone makes steel seem doughy. Her resolve is unshakable. She is the older sister of Det. Cameron Fox. She joined the Wayhaven PD for something mentally engaging to do. She is wildly intelligent and gets Weird when she doesn't have a puzzle to solve; once she has one, she's a dog with a bone. She feels intensely but privately; to see - or, more accurately, to be shown - what Eilidh is feeling is a surer sign of trust than anything else. Though she experiences emotions intensely, she is able to let them go. She is without artifice and almost without ego; she owns her mistakes, but does not dwell on them. Beyond her very small circle of beloved people, she cares very little what others think of her. She did not believe in soulmates until Adam; she has never wanted anyone as badly as she wants him, has never loved as fiercely as she loves him, but will not settle for anything less than all-in. She has no intention of waiting for him to get his head out of his ass, but also knows she will never find his equal. There is no getting over Adam du Mortain, there is only learning how to live with him at arm's length. Besides her brother, Mason is Eilidh's best friend, full stop. She loves Tina and Verda, but she knows they oftentimes wish she were different, more open, warmer. Mason is the first to not only accept but respect her for who she is, no changes imagined or required. She is slow to anger and uses violence only when her hand is forced, but heaven help you if you touch her brother. Neither Fox sibling has a good relationship with their mother. Eilidh sees Rebecca as little more than a stranger. Rebecca projects acceptance onto Eilidh's stoicism and Eilidh does not trust Rebecca enough to be emotionally honest or demonstrative with her. In turn, Rebecca does not know Eilidh well enough to recognize the difference.

in my blorbo headspace, my two detectives are siblings, they both work for the wayhaven PD, and they both have the blood mutation. rook died just after cameron, the youngest, was born. i'm handwaving the probable police policy against siblings working together in a professional capacity because, quite frankly, i don't care enough about police procedure to portray it accurately. also if their mother can be their agency liason/handler, their sibling can be their partner in (solving) crime. also also vampires exist, we're already firmly in unrealistic territory

Detective Eilidh (AY-lee) Fox - Intimidating/Cautious/Genuine/Stoic/Stubborn. 34 y/o. 5'9. Dark brown hair, grey eyes. Highest skill: Deduction.

Cameron is passionate, combative, irreverant, loyal, has unrepentant problems with authority, and is a little bit of an asshole. He is the younger brother of Det. Eilidh Fox. He joined the Wayhaven PD as an alternative to prison and despite it being what landed him in hot water in the first place, he still punches first and asks questions later, if at all. His sarcasm is a bulwark for his soft spots, of which there are many, the biggest being his sister. The only thing quicker (and sharper) than Cameron's wit is his anger. He is possessive in such a way it backfires into heroics: you mess with his people or his town, you'd better have an excellent exit strategy, for hell hath no fury like a pissed off Cameron Fox. He is in a Something with Mason. Like Mason, Cameron doesn't do complicated; he prefers one night stands and flings without expectations of commitment. Bobby was his last attempt at a real relationship, and it ended disastrously. He and Mason have the same general ineptitude with feelings and the recognition of them. Cameron is stupid gone for Mason and is absolutely clueless about it, right up until he isn't, at which point he tries very hard to be clueless again; the only thing more terrifying than what he feels for Mason is the possibility of Not Having Mason. Come hell or high feelings, he will not rock this boat. He wouldn't consider himself super close with anyone in Unit Bravo besides Mason, but if he had to choose a second favorite, it would be Felix. In Rebecca's absence, Eilidh raised him and he would kill - and die - for his sister. Neither Fox sibling has a good relationship with their mother, but of the two, Cameron is more openly hostile to Rebecca. Cameron felt Rebecca's absence less, as Eilidh stepped into the caregiver role without second thought; his anger at Rebecca is for the burdens Eilidh had to bear in her stead.

Detective Cameron Fox - Charming/Impulsive/Sarcastic/Stoic/Even split Easy-going and Stubborn. 31 y/o. 6'3. Golden blond hair, dark blue eyes. Highest skill: Combat.

[balkanradfem]

I got into further thoughts about this, and realized that this might be one of the reasons why m*n aim to impregnate women as young as possible - a young woman didn't yet experience the full scope of how painful and miserable life is, even for her, and she cannot asses the situation correctly, she will not realize that life isn't safe and fulfilling even for her, and that bringing a child into that situation will not make it safer, or more fulfilling. She is also more easily pressured and guilt-tripped if she attempts to abort the child, I remember as a child I always felt that I would not be able to survive the emotional toll of abortion, convinced by religion it would be same as murder, while now I can easily see it as an act of protection for both myself and the future.

I also realize now just how difficult it would be to convince women to want to have children once they've lived a life long enough to realize how oppressive the state of society is, and how helpless they are to fight it. Women have been living in a state of constant threat, even as adults, from violence and sexual violence; having a child in that kind of situation, having to protect someone even more vulnerable, is terrifying. A lot of women realize later in life that having children has exposed them to more harm and more helplessness, than they would originally be in if they only needed to keep themselves safe.

It makes sense that less and less women are willing to have children, the longer young women manage to stay unmarried and not pregnant; I feel it's vital to the future of the human society for women to have as much time as possible to asses the world before being in a situation where they need to make the call.

For m*n, of course, there's no care about whether their child will be in danger, because they're the most likely source of danger, and the male half of the world is more likely to be on the predatory side, rather than victims.

I remember when I only first became a radical feminist, my first instinct was to inform the male half of the world that children will no longer be born, until the world is once again an acceptable place for children to live. Sadly, most of the women are not even aware that they could potentially make that call, or that they have every right to do it, we're still surrounded by the idea that women making a call like that is equal to murder. Ironically, m*n who do go to war and do commit murder, or domestic homocide, are not guilt-tripped even close to that level, despite causing actual pain, devastation and suffering, to people who can very much feel it. Women's actions of abortion ultimately remove suffering, both their own, and that of the future. All children should be wanted, and born in safe and nurturing spaces where there is next to no chance of getting assaulted, molested, tortured, starved or murdered. We currently don't have such a space, because m*n are everywhere.

The society is also organized to ensure that once women have children, their entire lives will be occupied with keeping those children alive and safe, unless they have extended family, or funds, to ensure help. Having children is equal to consuming women's lives, especially to women in poverty, who have struggled with addiction, abuse, violence, abandonment. They'll also have less chance of removing abusive m*n from their lives, since now the children can be used as a threat, or lack of funds and food and home can be used as a threat against them. No woman would ever put herself in such situation willingly, yet the society puts her in that situation as if it's the most logical thing to do.

Even though giving women absolute authority and control over their own lives, and over the decisions of parenthood, is the only solution to the problems of the society, women are treated as disposable, usable tools of reproduction, and not the creators and authority of life they naturally are. The state of society will not be improved until this power is restored back into women's hands.

Learning more about animals made me think about an interesting comparison on how we decide to reproduce, compared to how animals do it.

In the wild, animals will usually reproduce less, or simply survive less and thus do less populating, if the habitat isn't suitable for them, temperature is wrong, and if they don't have enough reliable food sources. Sometimes they will be able to adapt to a different habitat and temperature, like having their reproduction cycle delayed or done in a different time of year so that their young would survive, but if there's no food source, they'll reproduce in smaller numbers.

This is why sometimes animals will overpopulate the areas near humans, if they're able to access people's food storage, trashbags and pantries, it will give them a great, fulfilling source of food and thus an incentive to reproduce as much as they want to - after all, there's food for everyone.

But with humans, it's like we don't even pay attention to that. Or rather, our reproduction is governed by culture that isn't built around human needs and quality of life. We're taught that we need to reproduce, especially if we're women, because:

everyone else is doing it and it's the only normal thing to do

if we don't do it we're failing to contribute to future society

we're going to be an outcast if we don't do it

we're going to end up alone and unloved if we don't do it

there's a limited time frame in which we can do it, and if we don't we might regret it later

there's intense pressure all around us from our peers, relatives, family, cousins and others to do it, and they are all assuming we will and ask us why

if we don't we're contributing to extinction of the human species

we're supposed to want to do it

we're threatened of missing out on a fulfilled life if we don't do it

we're depicted as wasted potential if we don't do it

we're told it's what we exist for and it should be our only purpose to do it

And this fails to take into account absolutely everything that comes into being with creating human life. We aren't supposed to pay attention to the amount and quality of food that we have, to the state of the habitat all around us (if we can even access the information about it), the amount of energy, free time and willingness we have to nurture and raise a human child, or what kind of life this child can have in a world like this. It's almost like we're pushed to be more mindless than animals, reproducing simply because it's the thing that is done, rather than assessing the situation and making a reasonable call of whether someone should be living in a world in this state.

So whose idea was it to create a culture like this, who benefits from it? The answer is very simple, m*n. Just from looking at the culture they developed, it's obvious they don't care about the quality, length, or resources put into a new human's life, all they care about is producing as much offspring as possible, regardless of circumstances. All of the beliefs I've mentioned above, that are forced onto women, come from that simple-minded desire: let us multiply uncontrollably. That's also where the idea of taking away womens choices comes from; it makes it all male choice. They can decide for a woman, whether she'll have a child or not, giving them absolute control over human reproduction, while they clearly do not care what kind of society this builds or what are the consequences for the said children.

When this control is put into women's hands, all of these circumstances are taken into account. Quality of environment, available funds, food, energy, human influence, the amount of danger and threat to the child, the climate, the chance of that child having a safe and happy life, woman will be aware of all of this, because she is the one who will make sure that child stays alive and well. Fathers can ignore all of this because they know mothers will take on this labour on themselves if given no other options.

I've read recently, on how human lifespan increased so grandmothers would be able to take care of their grandchildren, giving the parents more time to work and care for themselves, and isn't it interesting? How only women were ever expected to do that. Every grandfather I've heard of was not only incapable of taking care of a child, but also incapable of taking care of himself, burdening his wife with his every need until his death. Often, they were also a danger to the children (not every single time, but often enough to be mentioned).

And we're stuck in the world where they're the ones making the calls to create more children endlessly, all while ignoring the circumstances of that child's life, and doing massive acts of violence, wars, terrorism, destruction and devastation of human life worldwide, ultimately killing both mothers and children.

It feels wrong on every level that anyone except women should have authority on human life, when to reproduce and in which circumstances. We have to endure devastating trauma and pain, intrusion in our own bodies and risk of death to make just one person. We evolved to live longer in order to take care of children, to create a better environment for them to live in, and we should let someone else make the call? It's insane.

Not only women should have the ultimate say in this, for the sake of quality of human life and the environment, but all of the culture surrounding reproduction should change. Making children in a world where we can't care for, feed and protect them isn't normal. Not paying attention to whether a creation of a child will only cause extra suffering to the child, is not how we create a future our children can live happily in. Males spreading their broken dna is not worth creating a human society that is built up on suffering, and will lead into more suffering.

[lazyliars]

c!Tommy's relationship to violence is a pretty fascinating one.

Specifically I got thinking about this in regards to Techno, and his proclaiming that he only saw Tommy as useful once he had displayed a willingness to commit violence against others alongside Techno.

And I think a lot of the difference in analysis of these moments between c!Tommy fans and c!Techno fans is that this kind of violence means different things between the two.

For Techno, fighting for or alongside someone is a pretty important thing; for someone who feels like he is often dehumanized and viewed as a weapon, choosing who he fights for and who he lends his power to means a lot.

As I see it, It's why his feeling abandoned during the Red Festival has much more weight amongst Techno enthusiasts then Tommy or Tubbo enjoyers, and why his bringing it up during Doomsday is such a point of contention between the two groups.

For the people in Tommy and Tubbo's corner, it's a deep hypocrisy; Techno claiming to feel used as a weapon after he had admitted that Tommy's usefulness and status as a friend and/or equal was tied directly to his being willing to fight.

But for the Techno corner, that's not what it's about; For Techno, fighting for someone you care about is a big deal, especially for someone who ends up being a loner a lot of the time. The willingness to protect someone is something deeper, almost symbolic.

It's a pretty nasty spot of miscommunication, tied with genuine misrepresentations of what Techno wanted from Tommy and a complete misunderstanding of what Tommy wanted from L'manberg and Tubbo, largely because during the Bedrock Bros arc, Tommy didn't know either.

Which ties back into how Tommy's relationship with violence works, and how it is pretty much the antithesis of Techno's.

For Tommy, not fighting someone is often a better indicator of his caring for them then his willingness to fight for them.

The best example of this is the scene in the community house; Tommy realizes that hurting his friends (specifically Tubbo) is not worth it - it's not going to get him what he wanted, and it's the turning point where he starts to understand what he always knew subconsciously; that what made the discs important wasn't entirely linked to the physical objects, it was the feeling of a carefree 'before time' that he wanted to return to.

It's Tommy's refusal to keep fighting Tubbo that is a transformative and inspiring moment for him, and a deep betrayal for Techno.

And it's why it hurts them both so badly.

Tommy doesn't want to fight Techno. He's genuinely apologetic to him and very obviously feels horrible for leaving him, and I imagine, had Dream not escalated the situation, Tommy would've been protecting him if the Butcher Army had tried to press the attack and finish what they started.

But for Techno, this is a brutal betrayal - Tommy used him, despite the fact that Tommy had just lost the very thing he had joined Techno to retrieve, because Techno was conflating Tommy's willingness to fight with his willingness to protect Techno, because that's how Techno shows that he cares.

To Techno, Tommy refusing to fight for him is a betrayal. For Tommy, it is a reclamation of his sense of self, but not an abandonment of Techno inherently.

Another example is Tommy continuing to follow Wilbur during the Pogtopia era, even when it was becoming more and more clear that Wilbur's spiral was endangering the people Tommy cared about.

Tommy refused, at every point, to get violent with Wilbur, or even to abandon him. He refused to believe that it would come to that, and he continued to believe in Wilbur's ability to pull himself back from the edge.

(It also makes Wilbur's beliefs on violence in his conversation with Big Q during the elections even more tragic. It was never a belief set that Tommy shared, even when Wilbur was being consumed by it.)

And again, when the cabinet was talking about killing Techno, Tommy was the one piping up in his defense because he was (at the time) just minding his own business. This is the foreshadowing to bedrock bros.

And we can see the reverse of this when Tommy is being violent. It's generally portrayed as something negative for his character, as a failing.

It's why Revivedbur goading Tommy into fighting him while they're doing the tour is such a dark moment.

It's why the scene in the pit and Techno's killing Tubbo is such a sticking point for Tommy and why Wilbur's giddiness at the brutality is so disturbing; Wilbur was aware that this was a devolution for Tommy.

It's also why I personally consider his killing Jack to be the lowest point of exile. It was a full refutation of the kind of 'silly' violence, AKA violence with no consequences. What would have been a dumb joke before suddenly took on this somber tone, as Jack tried to swim back up and save himself. This ends up being further compounded by Jack declaring this a canon death - Tommy, at his lowest, kills someone he once considered a friend.

This is why many Tommy enthusiasts view Bedrock Bros as the closest he ever came to a villain arc; Tommy hurting people for the sake getting what he wanted was a massive shift in his character's morality - it's why his declaration of being "worse than everyone I didn't want to be" means so much.

And while it's easy to think that "someone he didn't want to be" means Techno here, I'd argue he's referring to Wilbur. Wilbur, who gave in to his worst self and ended committing violence against all of his loved ones, precisely when he realized that he wouldn't be able to recover the thing he wanted most. Wilbur, who was the one who taught Tommy to fight with "words, not violence."

"The thing I built this nation for doesn't exist anymore," and "The discs were worth more than you ever were" are lines that parallel each other.

But where Wilbur follows his words up with an act of tragic, self-destructive violence, Tommy catches himself. Tommy stops hurting Tubbo. He stops trying to hurt L'manberg. He tells Tubbo to give Dream the disc, refuting Wilbur's idea that "if I can't have it, no one can," that poisoned his mind.

None of this is to say Tommy is a pacifist. He will definitely fight when he has to - he's a war veteran, after all.

But I do think there's a distinct difference in how he relates to violence when contrasted against other characters, and how he's failed and succeeded with regards to that.

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Damstache - Stay the Night

(Sometimes... You just gotta be self-indulgent and write a rarepair. Bonus if you finish the fic and completely forget about it)

Damien and Wilford have been taking it slow since their first meeting. This looks at their first night together.

Word count: 1,460

-

Wilford was sure he was the luckiest man in the world. Somehow, despite his associations with violence and his reputation of actively seeking people in committed relationships he had a chance encounter with a beautiful man who was willing to overlook all that for a promise of honesty. All Damien had to do was smile, and Wilford knew he was doomed from the start. He couldn’t bear to consider the possibility of breaking the young mayor’s heart!

But as they started going on dates to quiet locations that Damien wouldn’t be recognised, Wilford learned something interesting. Damien had been so focused on wanting to do good for others that he had never taken time to look for a romantic partner of any sort and enjoy life beyond work. Anyone else who asked him out had been rejected. Wilford wasn’t sure how he avoided the cut, but he promised himself that he’d make the most of it and show Damien the joys of being in a relationship.

Date night on this occasion was a Friday evening in Wilford’s home. Dinner was ordered to enjoy while they watched a movie. They sat on the couch together, Damien’s head resting on Wilford’s shoulder, hands loosely interlocked. The reporter wasn’t at all surprised when he glanced down to ask Damien something and noticed Damien had dozed off. Being a mayor was exhausting, Wilford had quickly learned, which was why many of their dates were ‘low-energy’. Not that Wilford minded. It was a nice change from his normal approach of ‘fast, frantic and intense’, which in turn allowed him to better appreciate the here and now. Maybe that was why he was able to remember more of their dates.

A door slamming on the TV startled Damien awake, who immediately began apologising for ‘ruining the night'.

“Whoa, angel, it’s okay. Yer exhausted. We can watch it another time. I don’t remember what happened.” Wilford had been a little too preoccupied with doting over his sleeping beauty. 

“It might be for the best. I should be able to get a taxi at this time…” Damien slowly stood up so he could start the search for his phone.

“Why don’t ya stay th’ night?” Wilford’s question had Damien freeze.

“I-I don’t think that’s appropriate. You’re a good man, Wilford, but we’ve only been dating three months.” Both men shared an equally confused look.

“Sure it’s appropriate. I wanna share my bed with ya.”

“W-what?” Damien’s face quickly flushed as he scrambled to grab his phone off the coffee table like it was an act of self-defense. “I thought we had agreed to take this slow.”

“I don’t see how…. Ohhhh.” At last, the penny dropped and Wilford laughed in embarrassment. “I wasn’t askin’ if y’d sleep with me. I wanted ta know if y’d sleep with me!”

“That’s the same thing?”

“Noooo! No, no! I mean, like, a sleepover! I give ya some sorta pyjamas, an’ we fall asleep together in my bed! It’d be like cuddlin’ on th’ couch except, y’know, not on a couch. An' we'd have a blanket.” The blathering explanation helped lift the stress off Damien’s shoulders. He glanced down to his phone and, with a wistful smile, put it down on the table.

“I think I’d quite like that.”

-

He wouldn’t tell Damien, but Wilford went out of his way to make the preparation for bed as goofy and light-hearted as possible. Even if they were simply sharing a bed, the miscommunication had made poor Damien’s nerves jump, and that wasn’t fair at all! It was why they spent a solid twenty minutes going through the contents of Wilford’s wardrobe to decide which pyjamas Damien should wear. According to Wilford, it needed to be ‘as cute as possible’, so not just anything would do. It was also a chance to show off his clothes, like the tank top with a cartoon pair of sneakers wearing matching sunglasses, or his pink bear onesie. The sillier, the better, all to make Damien smile.

“Wait! This oughta do!” A pale grey hoodie was pulled out from a shelf, and Damien was quick to grab the rest of the bundle before it toppled to the floor and return it to the rightful place. “This is a lounge hoodie. It’s made from fluffy pj material so ya can cuddle an’ be all soft in it!” He offered a sleeve to Damien, who couldn’t help but agree that it was exactly as described. It was hastily placed in Damien’s arms as inspiration struck. “Oh! An’ it’d look so cute with these pants! They’re comfy an' stylish.” The pants - black with pink moustaches dotted around them - were held out on full display with such bravado that Damien snorted.

“You really do buy everything that has a moustache theme, don’t you?”

“Bonus points if it’s pink,” Wilford winked.

-

The pair took turns in the bathroom to perform their night time routines. While waiting for Damien, Wilford began quickly tidying around to make sure everything looked perfect. He made the bed twice, and fluffed the pillows as hard as possible to make them super soft. Then, as he debated whether to grab a teddy bear to give Damien, out came the Mayor.

Damien was not as large as Wilford, which meant the hoodie turned into a glorified night gown. So much so, the end of the sleeves needed to be rolled up to reveal his hands. The pyjama pants had elastic at the waist, so at least they could safely stay in place. With his hair loose and casually brushed to the side, Wilford couldn't ignore the reality that he was dating the cutest man in the entire world. He would gladly kill for Damien.

"It doesn't look too ridiculous, does it?" Damien wrung his hands in a familiar act of nervousness. Wilford hurried over, pulled Damien close, and kissed both cheeks.

"Yer too fuckin' cute, angel."

The couple enjoyed cuddling on the couch, so it was a natural progression once Damien gained a little more confidence about sharing a bed. At first, they sat together like they would on the couch and chatted casually. Then, once Damien grew tired, they settled to sleep, opting to take a half of the bed each. Wilford did find himself staying awake a little longer to make sure Damien was sound asleep, before rolling over and dozing off.

--

Just as the sun began to rise, Wilford was yanked out of sleep with the sensation of something pressing against his stomach. His eyes shot open in case that blasted librarian in his dream had gone through with their idea of using the ivy from a garden store to put people into giant empty books, only to instead see someone curled up against his side with an arm draped across the reporter’s stomach and their head against his chest. For an instant, he couldn't remember what happened last night, but relief quickly swamped him as the memories came back to him. 

“Mornin’, Damien.” Wilford lifted a hand to rest on Damien’s shoulder and rub small circles with his thumb. 

“Mmrgh,” the eloquent mayor murmured against Wilford’s chest. He took a long breath in to give himself the energy to move, but only went as far as leaning more against Wilford to look up at him. “Sorry… I felt warmth beside me." His hair was a mess and his eyes were heavy with sleep, but Wilford couldn't shake the fact that Damien was utterly adorable. As though aware of the thoughts bouncing around Wilford's mind, he smiled as he quietly added, "Plus, I've never woken up beside someone before… It's a nice feeling."

"Isn't it? Lyin' in bed, feelin' all relaxed with yer lover beside ya… It's like th' rest of th' world doesn't exist."

Damien hummed in agreement, settling back against Wilford. "I should have believed you last night. I'm sorry if I made things awkw-" Wilford interrupted with a shush and a quick squeeze.

"I should've asked th' question better. I'm sorry for scarin' ya. But I'm glad ya decided ta stay. It's Saturday, an' we're not workin' today…" Wilford trailed off with a raised eyebrow.  Damien, with a brain that refused to wake up, squinted at Wilford with a frown as he tried to figure out what was supposed to finish that sentence. Fortunately, Wilford could see the struggle. "It means we can go back ta sleep. Th' world's not lookin' fer us right now."

Now that sounded like a plan Damien could work with. He gave a content hum as he nestled against Wilford again. This time, he felt Wilford's arm keeping him close. As he quickly surrendered to sleep, the thought crossed his mind as to whether this was what 'home' meant.

[wanna-b-poet31]

A (maybe) 4-part meta on Good Omens: Part 1: Aziraphale’s Abuse and Trauma

SOOOOO I promised myself I wouldn’t get too obsessed with Good Omens but I’ve got some meta-thoughts. 

So, it’s no secret that abuse is prevalent in Good Omens, but the methods of abuse are interesting ultimately working as a catalyst for how Crowley and Aziraphale interact with humans, Heaven, Hell, and each other. 

Several of the characters we see in Good Omens are traumatized by the time we meet them, although some more than others. For example, Newt, for what little we see him is clearly ostracized by everyone around him and he shows signs of trauma via isolation. Until the end of the world, it’s heavily implied that he’s bullied, if not dismissed from the rest of the world due to his explosive tendencies with computers. He’s not shown to have healthy coping skills with the isolation, and although it is ultimately good he doesn’t get his job, and works with Shadwell, and meets Anathema, but he’s unable to express himself in a healthy way or handle his past.  Similarly, due to the stress of saving the world, Anathema is traumatized by the expectations of her family, of being a “descendant” of Agnes Nutters.  

But, both begin recovery journeys by beginning to assert their own needs and well-being. Newt begins forming real, relationships and coping with his loneliness by making friends and Anathema defies her family’s obligation by burning the letters. Overall, it’s a straightforward approach to begin recovering from traumatic events. 

However, Crowley and Aziraphale do not have quite as straightforward a narrative. 

Heaven is unbending. It is clear to both of them that God and her representatives punish independence, asking questions, and having any defined version of a “self”. 

Look at the photo below. It’s an environment that (per my last post) is cold, abusive, and really, isn’t a functional space. Nothing can get done reasonably in here. There aren’t any personal touches and it makes the space devoid of any sense of home. AND THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE HEAVEN, land of milk and honey Heaven. It’s not just bland, it’s much more insidious than that. It’s false transparency, a “nothing to see here” mask that the angels use to belittle, attack, and intimidate each other. 

Then there’s the messy business of the dogmatism Heaven follows that affects Aziraphale throughout the series. We see it first in the garden that questions (a la Crowley) lead to abandonment. The fear of falling, of knowingly being discarded by people/entities that supposedly love one another is a violent space to grow up in and incentivizes the remaining angels to keep their head down and not question actions that are clearly wrong. It is Crowley who asks why it would be okay to kill kids (because it’s clearly wrong) to which Aziraphale responds: “I’m not consulted about policy decisions”. It’s clear that 1000 year after the garden he’s internalizing his conditioning. 

His behavior, especially coming from THE angel who gave away his flaming sword without any hesitation and then LIED to God about it, shows that he clearly knows right from wrong is jarring. But, it’s unsurprising, given the abusive place he is attached to. Heaven’s love for him is conditional and wholly dependant on him being able to do as he’s told, not what might be right. 

It’s also clear that Aziraphale is being abused during the events of the series. While not always physically violent (although I’ll get to that in a second), he is continuously belittled and degraded. 

Take a look at Heaven’s least favorite Asshole: Gabriel

When we are introduced to Gabriel the first few things out of his mouth are insults. Although we’ve had Aziraphale for only like 5 seconds and we already can tell how passionate he is about food. Aziraphale is eating sushi, presumably a favorite food given his familiarity with the chef, and taking some time for himself, and like a good family member offers some to his “fellow”, his “ally”, an entity who supposedly had his back. When the food is refused, it’s presented with a dismissive tone and called “gross matter” that would “sully” his body.  This is is a smack in the face to Aziraphale and he quickly lies, saying he’s only eating to keep up appearances. This shutdown of interests and likes pushes Aziraphale to be like Newt, ostracized from people who are supposed to be his friends. Then, like Anathema, his exposure to the “great plan” and what is expected of an angel is villanizes his interests, causing him to feel shame and associate his individuality and sense of the self with “wrong” or “broken”. 

This differs greatly from how Crowley and Aziraphale meet. Although we see Crowley tempt eve, they talk to each other as equals and Crowley does the one thing Heaven has never done -- tell him he’s doing a good job. There is no harm in eating or enjoying eating but he’s being treated like he’s committing some kind of sin. Crowley, in contrast, reaffirms Aziraphale’s actions and helps relieve his concerns. Gabriel, instead, aggravates his anxiety.

Then, we see Gabriel do one of the more insidious discreditings of Aziraphale’s sense of self at the bookstore.  Whereas Crowley is able to tell when there are new books in the shop and knows that losing the shop is a significant loss for Aziraphale, Gabriel can’t be bothered (more on that at the end). At some level, it’s his disdain for humanity that makes him indifferent at best about the bookstore. But, his disregard for Aziraphale’s livelihood, something that is a clear point of pride and joy, is belittling. He is demanding that Aziraphale drop everything he loves to fight the great war, and while asking to fight is not intrinsically abusive (Crowley too asks Azi to join him and fight), the dynamic is not of equals with the same motivations, rather it is clearly meant to be talking down to Aziraphale. Gabriel sees no value in the shop or his “brother” and if he can’t see it there must not be any. The blow to Aziraphale’s emotional state is apparent in the grimace he gives the two angels. 

Even when Aziraphale, (who does his best to uphold what he has been conditioned to be “right” and after many millennia has grown to trust Gabriel despite no reciprocation) DOES go to Heaven with a plan, news about where the anti-christ is and how to stop it, or push him to be neither satan no saint, he’s met with more belittlement. None of the angels at the meeting believe that Aziraphale can accomplish his goals, but worst than that, none of them are willing to give him the support he needs to achieve his goal. Sure they don’t smite him where he stands for purposing an alternative to the end of the world, but that’s not the same as being a support system he can rely on. He can’t even voice here the reasons why he cares so deeply about Earth or why they may be wrong. He is not their equals in their eyes. 

You can also see it at the park when Gabriel and Aziraphale are running, and Gabriel punches his stomach, telling our adorable angel he needs to lose the gut, devaluing Aziraphale’s worth further. Even the face he makes in the gif below is filled with condescension. He’s not taking Aziraphale, or Aziraphale’s concerns seriously. 

Which brings me to the final nail in Heaven’s abusive coffin via Gabriel. The intended violence of his “sentence” is meant to, like the fall, strike the fear of abandonment, disownment, and death into Aziraphale. There is no scenario (except the one we see) where Aziraphale is meant to make it out of Heaven alive. 

After Armaggeddon’t Gabriel, who knows Aziraphale’s intentions of diverting the apocalypse, if perhaps not the rationale, is pleased to belittle the restrained Aziraphale. There is legit joy in his face when they force Aziraphale to walk into the hellfire. 

In the above gif, you can see that not only is he being verbally abusive, throwing ill-intent insults at Aziraphale, but that he fully expects the fire to kill his supposed brother and PLEASED about it.  

LET ME REPEAT THAT. The place/people who Aziraphale is supposed to love, trust, and be loyal to are ready, and happy to, drop him at a moment’s notice. At this point, considering the layers of abuse already outlined, Aziraphale’s insistence that he can’t be on Crowley’s side because Heaven wouldn’t like it is symptomatic of someone who is longing for a genuine, honest connection and has been “raised” to believe that is Heaven, no questions allowed.   

this is not to say Heaven isn’t above physical abuse towards Aziraphale.

I’ve seen some excellent metas floating around dissecting the Crowley vs. Aziraphale  and the Angel’s vs. Aziraphale “intimidation” (although I can’t find them now, please @ them if you know them) and the bottom line is that Aziraphale is terrified by Uriel and her legion of Angels much more than Crowley ever could. Aziraphale is damn well aware of how violent the angels who aren’t even touching him can be vs. his calm response to Crowley pushing him against a wall. 

Which brings me back to Crowley and Aziraphale. Although I can (and will) do another one of these on Crowley, and dive deeper into the implications of their relationship and the closure they need/got by being on their own side. I want to take a second to articulate just how much Crowley does not (try) to do be this way to Aziraphale. 

I maintain that Crowley, is aware of Heaven’s abusive tendencies due to his fall and the subsequent fear that must have caused other angels, I do not think he’s aware of the levels of mental, verbal, and emotional abuse that heaven throws Aziraphale specifically. The way Aziraphale talks up heaven, you’d suspect he was getting awards left and right, or at least some semblance of respect. But no. In stark contrast to Gabriel, Crowley will entertain Aziraphale’s interests/passions like food and books even if they aren’t something he indulges in often himself. Whereas I said earlier Gabriel dismissed the bookshop and presupposed it was something Aziraphale would be able to drop like a rock, Crowley KNOWS that Aziraphale cares so deeply for his books, his food, and his identity as an angel, that losing any of them would be unbearable. Although Crowley pushes and sometimes goes too fast for Aziraphale, he’s not approaching Aziraphale in bad faith. 

Of the 10 observed historical meetings, we see Crowley initiate at least 6 of them (it could be said the Victorian meeting is also Crowley’s doing, but the jury is out about who called that particular meeting as Aziraphale walks toward Crowley first in that scene). We also see Crowley go out of his way to do things that make the Angel comfortable and does not once break his trust. Although he storms out 3 times in the show, he always uses it as breathing room, before once again seeking Aziraphale out, and doing his best to work on their relationship AS EQUALS. Their dynamic (Which I’ll go into more later) is not on uneven footing, and both parties treat the other with a kindness neither of them is offered by their respective worlds.  

TLDR: Crowley’s love for Aziraphale helps heal him from the abuses of Heaven

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[ianxfalcon]

You should not vote for the Sweden Democrats.

The Swedish election is just a little over a week away. I’m pretty sure most people are already decided, and I’m pretty sure that if you have decided you want to vote for the Sweden Democrats, nothing I say is going to change your mind - because after everything they’ve done and said, if you still want them to rule this country, you’re clearly okay with it.

But I’m doing this anyway, because I need to say it. You should not fucking vote for the Sweden Democrats. They are Sweden’s answer to Trump, only there are more of them.

Let’s start with the most concerning question, namely, their idea of “Swedish identity”. Which they, in their manifesto, claim the right to define for you, as well as the right to revoke if you don’t fit into their idea of “Swedish”. (To quote the manifesto: “ På samma sätt som den som är född in i en annan nation senare i livet kan bli en del av den svenska nationen menar vi också att man även som infödd svensk kan upphöra att vara en del av den svenska nationen genom att byta lojalitet, språk, identitet eller kultur.” [In the same way a person born in another nation can later in life be a part of the Swedish nation we also mean that a native Swedish person can cease to be a part of the Swedish nation by changing loyalty, language, identity or culture.]) So if you’re not “loyal” enough to Sweden for them, they want to revoke your right to call yourself Swedish, and presumably your right to be Swedish. Because, yeah, that’s right - they also want to change the Swedish constitution to be allowed to revoke citizenships. If the citizen in question came by the citizenship by illegal means, they say, but with what I mentioned above, what is “criminal” might be easily changed. If they want to change the constitution, what else would they want to change? Oh yeah, they are also against dual citizenships, meaning that if you apply for a Swedish citizenship you will have to give up your earlier one, which in turns mean that if you lose that Swedish citizenship, you are stateless.

And wait! There’s more! They also have a very narrow definiton for who is Swedish to begin with. Sami people and Jewish people, for example, are not Swedish, according to former party secretary Björn Söder. Muslims are also not Swedish in their view, and in fact the Sweden Democrats want to restrict religious freedom for Muslims. Meanwhile, they want the Swedish state to be less secular and not “religiously neutral”, which should be worrying to anyone who isn’t a Christian. Then there’s the whole infamous “inherited essence” thing, which is also in the manifesto. According to Sweden Democrats, all humans have an inherited essence: “Delar av denna essens är gemensam för de flesta människor och annat är unikt för vissa grupper av människor eller för den enskilde individen.” [Parts of this essence is mutual for most people and others are unique for certain groups of people or for the individual.] In another part of the manifesto, they rather blatantly hint that criminality is “culturally” conditioned (”culture” is a less questionable word for “race”). They also want to cut all fundings for any cultural project that is not “Swedish” culture, but can’t define exactly what Swedish culture is other than “Christian”. (This, too, is in the manifesto. If you want to vote SD, you should read their manifesto.) They want to separate Swedish people and “non-Swedish people”. They suggested creating a “B-prison” with lower standards for asylum seekers who commit crimes (this is based on their theory that people come to Sweden only to commit crimes because Swedish prisons are nicer - this is kind of a weird statement to make because most asylum seekers who commit crimes are deported, either before or after the prison sentence). They also want to be able to deport people to countries where they risk the death penalty, which is illegal per the Swedish law. (Oh, yeah, and some representatives have themselves stated a willingness to bring back the death penalty, so there’s that too.) And they want to make it illegal to hide asylum seekers who run the risk of being deported. Now, where have we heard that before...? A lot of their representatives have expressed blatant racism and nazism. Like, a lot. Usually, when one is discovered, they are expelled from the party - but not always, it depends on who the person is. Despite the fact that they expel most of the open racists who are revealed to be open racists, there never seem to be any less of them. Each week, basically, a new one is uncovered. You would think that if it was just a few “bad eggs”, as they claim, there would at some point not be any more of them. And keep in mind that these are only the ones that are discovered. It’s fair to assume that there are a lot more who are smart enough to not say out loud that they want to murder Muslims and shoot migrants with an automatic rifle (yes, someone did say this; her name was Gunilla Schmidt, look it up!). Why does this party attract these people? Hmmmmm. Of course, not that this would change anything for the voters. Back in 2012, it was revealed that three of the party’s head honchos - Kent Ekeroth, Erik Almqvist and Christian Westling - had spent a night in Stokcholm running around drunk, shouting racist and sexist slurs at people, assaulting a woman, and armed themselves with iron pipes. They filmed it all, and that film ended up in the hands of the newspaper Expressen, who naturally posted it on their website. Not only did two of the people involved stay in the party afterwards, this also didn’t seem to affect their numbers in the last election, which was their most successful one so far. Another thing that didn’t affect their numbers? Party leader Jimmie Åkesson being recorded singing a song that celebrated the murder of former prime minister Olof Palme. Yes, this happened in 2009, but still. (Hell, if SD insist on bringing up how the Social Democrats were involved in eugenics in he 40s, then I can bring up how SD’s current leader sang Nazi songs ten years ago.) They are also homophobic and sexist. They are against same-sex couples’ right to adopt (and also single parents), and Björn Söder (yep, him again!) compared homsexuality to bestality once. He’s still in the party, by the way.         They recently demanded a library that is used as a voting station remove all their Pride flags because the flags are “too political”. What else? Oh, yeah. They want to limit abortion rights, and they campaign for the right of healthcare personel to refuse to perform abortions (in Sweden, refusing to perform abortions is reason for discharge). They spread a lot of anti abortion propaganda. On top of that, they want to outlaw burkas, because limiting women’s rights goes hand in hand with racism. And they believe women have different roles in society than men (manifesto again). Oh, and when female representatives within the party report sexual harassment or sexism, they are not only kicked out, but also harassed some more, often with added threats of rape and violence. SD are anti-union. They want to reduce striking rights and believe that labour unions need to reach a “compromise” with the employers. They used to be against privatising and monetary gains for the public sector, like healthcare, but they changed their minds after increased contact with private contractors. Oh, and they don’t want Labour Day to be a holiday anymore, because it’s not religious in nature. They want to control the free press. They have at several points expressed a willingness to shut down press that criticises them, including state-run TV company SVT and, very recently, the radio channel P3 (the latter was because they roasted Jimmie Åkesson on a show specifically aimed at roasting the party leaders). Like, the moment a political party says that they think the press should be controlled, we have a problem, okay? They also don’t believe in global warming; Jimmie Åkesson called it “propaganda” concocted by SMHI (the Swedish meteorological institute). Coincidentally, they’re also the only Swedish party to vote against the Paris agreement. And they want more nuclear power plants in Sweden. They are also dipshits. Like the woman claiming that 400 000 euro equals - hold on to your hats - forty thousand billion Swedish crowns (one euro is worth around 10 Swedish crowns), creating a meme in the process. Or the man who carved a swastika into his own forehead and claimed that he had been assaulted by a bunch of “non-European left wing extremists”, apparently completely unaware that medical professionals can tell when a wound is self-inflicted. Or the local group who copied their budget proposition from another local group and only changed the names, leading to their propositon expressing a lot of concern for the countryside 700 miles south of them and suggesting taking money from a project that did not exist in their county. Or that time a few of them ran around in Stockholm hurling abuse at people and filming themselves and then somehow leaking the video to one of the largest newspapers in the country. Also, apparently nobody ever tells Jimmie Åkesson anything because every time he is questioned about anything, his response is always “I don’t know.” Oh, and since a lot of their representatives have been kicked out (some went on to join the even worse party AfS), they have left a lot of vacant chairs both in parliament and in local councils all over the country, meaning their voters aren’t getting the representation they voted for. Also, many of the still sitting representatives never show up in parliament or in the municipal councils they’ve been elected for. This basically means we pay taxes for them to not do anything. As a follow up to that, in some municipals they couldn’t find any actual representatives willing to sit in the council, meaning their voters don’t get the representation they voted for at all, just vacant spots that the tax payers fund.  And actual Nazis have taken advantage of that by getting themselves voted into council on an SD mandate, and then leaving the party – or never being a member in the first place, since SD allowed voters to write any name on their ballots – so they can impel their own politics. Of course, since a lot of SD representatives have been seen hanging with actual Nazis, this probably doesn’t bother them, but it should bother you. Because fucking Nazis.

SD were openly Nazis when they started out in the 80′s. A lot of the people who were members back then are still there. Don’t you ever forget that.

In short: don’t vote for SD. Also, don’t vote for the Moderate Party, because they have said they are willing to work with SD. And don’t vote for the Christian Democrats, because they are like SD, only more religious and slightly less racist.

[awesome-bamon]

Reylo fandom is worst than the TVD fandom.... (Long post)

Thoughts have come into my mind about how the Reylo fandom is worse than the TVD fandom.  And now I’m going to explain why and write out my thoughts.

First let me make this clear that all of the ships on TVD whether they’re canon or just fanon, are toxic and have their abusive elements/factors to them.  Every single male character on the show that the women characters are shipped with have a history of being violent, abusive, murderous and have their fair share of heinous, violent crimes against  other people.  

And they all have shown violence towards those they are shipped with or have has scenes where they have abused, physically hurt or even attempted to kill the women that they are shipped with.  One could say that they have committed  violent, heinous acts on the same level as Kylo Ren has.

And I’ll also make it clear that the TVD fandom is similar to the Reylo fandom or any other fandom with an abusive, violent, problematic male character (who has a history of murdering or abusing people).  In the way that the TVD fandom makes excuses for their fave problematic, white male character.  In how they woobify him, come up with metas and long explanations to absolve and exonerate their faves malicious actions and crimes.  Especially with the violent/abusive acts committed towards the woman that they ship him with.

How they all insist and say that their fave can just be changed through the love of woman, how all it takes is the woman that they ship him with coming along to “fix” him and to heal him, making him decide to never do another violent/abusive act for the rest of his life.  And that if the woman character would only accept him, embrace him and forgive him for all he has done wrong that he’ll just change into a better man.

That her love for him or his love for her can magically heal him (without any type of effort to actually change as an individual or taking it upon himself to change, instead of relying on the love/acceptance of a woman.) (The Abduction as romance video really made a good point in how the entertainment industry sells how all it takes is for the right woman to come along for a man with a history of being awful to be able to magically change his ways overnight). In reality it would take self reflection/self work.  So, the idea of a woman loving/accepting a man into being good or that it is her job to babysit him, parent him, and coddle to him to make sure he behaves him and doesn’t go out and do something awful is an idea that needs to be gotten rid of in society all together.

So, this pattern of justifying a problematic male fave’s actions and not being willing to hold him fully accountable for it is something that happens across all fandoms and not just the Reylo fandom.

More than once a Reylo Stan has brought up me being a fan of Damon Salvatore saying “Well, you ship Bamon.”  As a counter point to my views against Kylo Ren.

Yes,  Damon has done many horrible, selfish things.  He has done over his fair share of  cold blooded murders and heinous actions.  He has shown violence towards women.  And as I said every ship on TVD has is toxic and has it’s abusive factors.  Including Bamon.  Which I admit and make no excuses for.

Not saying that fans should be forbidden to Stan for male villains or problematic male characters.  Just that they acknowledge their fave for what he is and not attempt to woobify him or coming up with metas to absolve him of his violence/abuse.  And not try to turn his ships into something that is healthy when it is not.

Again you could say or believe that Damon’s heinous actions are equal to Kylo’s and that he isn’t any better than Kylo Ren in relation to that. Yet, Damon has usually been mentioned as a counter point to me making posts against Kylo/Reylo.

Like they’re trying to say that I an a hypocrite or have double standards. But, what they either miss or over look is how the Reylo fandom is still bigger hypocrites when they try to deflect to me shipping Bamon.

Which brings me around to the point of my topic.  Most of the TVD “rival” ships have one problematic male character with a history of violence, going up against another problematic male character with a history of violence.  So, in the ship wars of the TVD fandom you would see.  “Well, your fave’s murders, abuse, awful acts were worse than my fave’s murders, abuse,awful acts.  Therefore he is the better love interest for *fill in blank*  TVD female character.”

Outside of the ship/fan wars.  I’ll admit that when someone has a  problem with Damon, they had perfectly valid/righteous reasons to call out his history of violence and murders.  And are correct in pointing out his abuse/ harmful actions against women.

Still the TVD fandom is one problematic white male fave against another problematic white male fave, who have both murdered and abused.  So, it can be truly said about how all of the ships are toxic and no ship is truly healthy.  And that no male character on TVD is really morally superior over the other.

Now, I say that the Reylo fandom is worse because unlike the case of TVD, with Finnrey  vs Reylo.  You have one side with a problematic, violent white male character. With a history of violence and a history of murdering people.  Who has hurt/harm/nearly killed the woman that he is shipped with.

Then the other side with the black male character.  Who suffered through being kidnapped and forced to be raised into a cold blooded killer.  Yet, still choose to break apart from the, refusing to murder and instead fleeing so that  he could join the light and fight on the good side against those which kidnapped  him, stole his child hood and tried to get him to do their ill will.

And since he escaped the side of evil.  He has done nothing but risk his life/well being to become a hero to defeat the evil side.  Plus met this woman who fighting for the resistance, therefore joining her and wanting to fight by her side.  He grew to care for this woman.  Showing her nothing but love, appreciation and respect.  Do all that he could do for her well being.  Cared deeply about keeping her safe and away from harm.  Risked himself when she was in harms way.  And has a true heart of good and the desire/will to do right.

But, despite this black male character’s pure heart of gold and his caring and appreciation for the heroine of the story.  You still see Stans of the problematic white male villain go out of their way to demonize the black male character.  Trying to find reasons for why everything that he has done is some how wrong, malicious or secretly filled with malice.  Or somehow bad and “villain like” in some form. 

Especially in his scenes/actions with the heroine.  As they try to break down scenes to convince people in the fandom how his actions/words towards her are somehow “toxic”, “unhealthy”, “mean”, “abusive”, “Stalker like” or somehow “disrespectful of her agency.”

While at the same time justifying their problematic white male fave. Who actually did  the things they accuse the black male hero character of doing towards the woman.  While they come up with novel metas to absolve and exonerate their fave, making long explanations to woobify him for why he really isn’t truly at fault or to be blamed for his decisions. How he really couldn’t help but to be the way that he is because of his abusive child hood, rough life, his manpain, or his mental illness. (Again this type of thing you see across all fandoms).  And how he is just an misunderstood soul at heart. 

Those who mention Damon to try to deflect, just highlights the hypocrisy and the double standards of the Reylo fandom all the more.  Because they have to go outside of the Star Wars fandom to point out another problematic, white male character like their own.

Yet, if we keep the discussion within the Star Wars fandom and it’s ship wars.  Then we’re talking about Finn vs Kylo.  Those in the TVD fandom have valid reasons to point out Damon’s history of shitty behaviors (whether or not everyone agrees with the same ship).  

But, with Finn there are ZERO reasons to demonize his actions.  Because NOTHING he does has been any where near on the same level as the awful things problematic white male faves have done.  NOTHING Finn has done towards Rey is unhealthy, toxic, or abusive.  While Kylo’s actions with her are all of that.

The only  people who take Finn and attempt to twist his actions in the movie, into something bad, awful, and “villain like”, are Kylo Ren Stans.   The only ones who try to demonize, criminalize Finn’s scenes with  Rey are Reylo Stans.  Who have an agenda to demonize Finn because they want to uplift, praise and crown Kylo Ren as being the better man/love interest.  In their attempt to paint Finn as the truly unhealthy man in Rey’s life and Kylo Ren as the truly loving one who has her best interest at heart, they reach so far that their arms can stretch  out and touch the moon.

So, desperate to absolve the white man that they will work extra hard and are hell bent all trying to paint the black male character as someone who is really bad, mean, or disrespectful towards the heroine character.

Before someone wants to come at be with the deflection of “Well, you stan for Damon.”  Then I hope that the Reylo Stan has called out their fellow Stans when they see them attempting to demonize/criminalize Finn.  They can’t be pointing out how any other fandom Stans for a problematic, white male fave.  If they themselves are hell bent on or are okay with their fandom demonizing Finn who decided to fight for the good side and who has truly cared for, love, respected and appreciated Rey.

So, that is how the Reylo fandom in a certain way is worse than the TVD fandom.

[alwaysalreadyangry]

due south: the ladies man (redux)

In the fall of 1998, I was a student of Derrida’s in his seminar at The New School for Social Research, “Justice, Perjury, and Forgiveness.” Despite the ambitious title, Derrida’s singular focus that semester was forgiveness. He was particularly interested in the notion that to be pardoned or forgiven is only actually meaningful in the face of the unpardonable, the unforgivable. To forgive someone for a minor mistake, or to say “pardon me” when accidentally bumping into a stranger on the street, is perhaps a nicety, a well-meaning mannerism or gesture, but where forgiveness is really needed — where it actually changes human relations — is where (and when) it is given to the unforgivable. In this way, the power of forgiveness depends upon the unforgivable.

Since then, I have maintained a correlated interest in the acceptance of the unacceptable, in the toleration of the intolerable, pairings that indicate a deeper problem; deeper in the sense that humans regularly accept the unacceptable (unlike forgiving the unforgivable). People regularly accept theoretically changeable facts of the world that are, even by their own accounts, totally unacceptable. Adjustments and acquiescence to unhappiness and dissatisfaction are common expectations of a practical life of “doing what one has to do,” and yet, it remains a basic ethical instinct to say that we should not accept a life that does us and others real measurable harm — at home, at work, in school, in society. And yet we regularly do. We do, that is, until there is a revolt against the unacceptable, against the intolerable.

richard gilman-opalsky, specters of revolt

this is an interesting section in the introduction to the book i’m reading. the book is mostly about revolt and its possiblities -- both the possibility of revolt haunting the capitalist world, but also the possibilities of what revolt can do.

but i think there’s something interesting in this passage -- and as someone who really struggles with derrida that’s not something i expected to find myself saying. after these two paragraphs, gilman-opalsky starts talking about revolt. which i am also interested in. but i do find myself thinking about the moments before. all the unforgivable moments before. before revolt; when revolt is a ghost, a potential body rather than a real physical force. and then i also think a lot about the idea that forgiveness given to the unforgivable has the power to change human relations.

which all relates back to my meta on what the ladies’ man in due south says about law enforcement and the US “justice system”.

because the bit i was struggling with the reading of the most was: the scene between beth botrelle and ray kowalski at the end of the episode. it’s not that i found it hard to reconcile it with the rest of the episode; on an emotional sense i understand why that scene is there. it’s about the system, not him. she understands... and also, it’s him facing a final, impossibly hard emotional truth. and... it’s ray giving the crime scene back to her, and making it back into a personal tragedy. or the scene of the crime done to her.

but on a craft sense; or on an ideological sense, i wondered exactly what the final embrace between them was saying. ray apologising multiple times; beth botrelle hugging him, and kissing him on the cheek. it’s a brutal, beautiful moment; why?

so i’ve been talking with @zielenna about this episode, and one of the other things that came up was the way in which it talks about masculinity, but especially through this very male police hierarchy. all of the cops around and especially above ray are men. the woman he has to fight to exonerate and her lawyer are both women -- and this is not a coincidence. no, it’s very much about patriarchal systems... the patriarchal arm of the state and the ways in which masculinity & homosocial relations are used to keep men in line, to keep them as enforcers of it.

there’s something also interesting that the dead guy is a male cop -- and a male cop who is named, in the episode’s title, as a “ladies’ man”. no, not a ladies’ man. he was “the ladies’ man”. there’s something there about virile masculinity, about how men admire other men who treat women badly.

and so when ray dissents from the ways in which the basic instinct of the police force is to cheer the woman’s execution, to bray for her blood (dewey operates here as a stand-in for the force at large) -- there is a sense in which that can be seen as a rejection of these structures of male power. by which i don’t mean that i’m reading ray as a radical feminist. but if we’re thinking about human relations, and the act of changing them at a time of emergency (and this episode is absolutely about a state of emergency), then it bears teasing out. he is absolutely rejecting a system of male power and personal relationships that intersect with and help strengthen this power. 

this episode gives us a male mentor for ray kowalski, who up until now has had very little past beyond his family and ex-wife. a workplace mentor; a mentor who pretends to be supporting ray as a friend, but is actually out to save his own skin and consolidate his own power, his own power-network. 

this is important; it shows us the figure of ray in a long line, in a huge interconnected network of men who will let this sort of thing happen. and it also shows the ways in which personal relationships between men will be used to strengthen this network; and the ways in which women and those who are outside and marginalised by the network... can and will be crushed by it.

ray’s only one link; when he consciously shatters that link, the network doesn’t fail. but he is able to save one person, in the face of this huge monolith.

so, let’s look at beth botrelle. in the first scene we see her in, her lawyer reinds her that she does not have to see ray. she can turn him away. not only does she choose to see him -- she insists that it’s alone, one-on-one. no lawyer, no fraser. it’s a personal connection. two people who can’t forget each other; and two individuals in a system that’s out to crush one using the other.

then there’s this:

Beth: So, you're looking for forgiveness? [Ray still does not meet her eyes.] Ray: Is that what you think?

ray does not ask for forgiveness. she doesn’t give it. what she does do is try to give him some kind of easy absolution, or a way to clear his conscience. “any cop could have taken that call,” she says. but ray knows that. and then she tells him that she killed her husband; and as soon as she says it, ray is certain that it’s not true. so she hasn’t given him absolution, or forgiveness. in lying, she has given him the truth -- or some portion of it.

let’s contrast this with the end of their final scene:

Ray (softly): I'm sorry. Beth: No. Ray: I am. I'm so sorry. Beth (tearfully): No. [She cups his face with one hand, then kisses his cheek.] Beth: Thank you, Officer Kowalski. [They embrace.]

there is one constant; beth botrelle is saying “no” when ray apologises, taking the responsibility upon himself. this isn’t so different to the way she tries to absolve him earlier. only, in the earlier scene she gives him all the cop platitudes she knows from her husband -- anybody could have taken that call, don’t let it wear on you. she lies. she is all give, willing him to take what she’s offering.

but it’s false; ray hasn’t done anything to earn it. he doesn’t take it; he can’t take it. she is the prisoner, and he is the cop. she’s an incarcerated woman, he’s the man whose role as a cop put her there. and not only is she incarcerated, she’s being touted everywhere as a “cop-killer” -- the people the system hates the most, because they have targeted the officers of that very system. even if, as beth botrelle didn’t, they did no such thing. despite beth asking that they be alone together, they can’t change the nature of their relations to each other.

in the final scene, everything has changed; except nothing that happened to beth has been taken away or removed. she still lived through an atrocity; she still had eight years of her life stolen from her. and that is -- unforgivable. both in the basic sense that it’s an awful, unimaginable thing that has happened to her. that has been done to her. but it is also unforgivable in the sense that she can’t forgive it; it’s impossible to grasp the totality of it, and all of the different people and systems and -- nodes in the network of power that created her fate. she can’t forgive it because they are not all there, it’s impossible to face them all. and it’s also unforgivable, specifically with ray kowalski, because he was one part of the larger system which failed her -- and not all of it. he is complicit, but he is not the root of the corruption.

does this make sense? i find myself doing that old essay trick of looking up the different, interconnected meanings of the word “forgive”. forgiving debt, giving up resentment towards -- and then. to pardon an offender.

because beth was thought to be an offender; she wasn’t one. because it’s the system and the state that can forgive offenders, and beth is a victim (a survivor) of the state’s violence. because ray did not commit an official offence against her; because those that did (the higher-up law enforcement officials) are not there. for all of these reasons, too, she is not able to forgive ray. because of the systems they exist within; because of the systems that shape their lives, and how they relate to each other.

and also just because of the unimaginable, horrifying scope of what was done to her, the way in which her life was destroyed.

so what does she do? she thanks ray. she kisses his cheek. she embraces him. this is not the words “i forgive you” -- and in fact, in the use of the repeated “no” we see her trying to absolve, rather than forgive. the idea that you have nothing to be sorry for equals i don’t need to forgive you.

but the first thing she thought ray was there for was forgiveness. and the last thing she does is she thanks him, and embraces him. a gesture of love; a gesture that nobody could have expected, a gesture that nobody outside the situation could perhaps easily understand.

so, i’m not a derridean, and if you’ve made it this far then you’ve probably guessed that? i’m not good with theory and i’m sure the phrase “human relations” has had a lot written about it (without even getting into the idea of forgiveness). but i’m not backing out from this now. in this passage, we see derrida’s ideas that forgiveness matters most in the face of the unforgivable; that this is when it is a radical act that can change human relations, which i read as relations between humans.

is her thank you and embrace -- forgiveness? is it absolution? does one have radical power that the other does not? or do both have a radical power in the face of all that has come before this moment? we have seen ray splintering the network that he was part of, that other male cops were trying to coerce him to remain committed to. and here he is, to a certain extent, cut loose from that. he is a person, again. alone with another person. 

knowledge of the past power relations haunt this scene -- and of course there is still a power imbalance between them, even now. things have changed, but they have not changed enough. ray did all that he could; he is no longer slumped over in a chair in a prison. he has done something. he has changed something.

and it’s not enough -- because nothing could be enough. forgiveness is impossible. but in the face of the power relations that both hold them still, and haunt them, we see a radical act; an embrace. tenderness. halting, emotional honesty -- contrasting with the comforting lies she tells in the earlier scene. in the face of this system, which can perhaps only be saved by its total destruction, by revolt, by a radical, collective act -- this is what can be done to change power relations. an embrace. a few words. it’s not quite forgiveness; he still does not ask for forgiveness. he does not ask; she bridges the gap. personal tenderness; two people, who are trying to live as best as the world will let them. who are trying not to be defined by the roles in which their relative positions of power would have them. embracing in a way that is not about desire, or about one person’s power over another; embrace as transmission of emotion, empathy, understanding. when i started writing this, i thought it was forgiveness. i don’t think it is forgiveness; i don’t think it’s less of a gesture on beth’s part for that. because --

it’s not enough, and it’s not enough. of course it’s not enough; between two people in this situation, enough is not possible. between any amount of people in this situation, enough is not possible, because the atrocity was already committed. what is so upsetting, the reason why ray cries, is because her tenderness with him is not justified, is not reasonable. the maybe-forgiveness, the attempted-absolution. she can’t give it; and yet she gives it, or something like it. ray has done all that he can, and he does not deserve what she is giving him in return. what she is giving -- an act of love -- is radical in a way that he can’t answer in kind. which is why it’s so beautiful, which is why it’s so sad.

ray can’t be forgiven because he’s not responsible; and he can’t be forgiven because he was complicit. it’s a double-bind. and in the face of that knowledge; love. understanding. thank you. gratitude. 

at the end, it’s gratitude. what is gratitude? kind words said, in earnest, in response to an imbalance -- in response to kindness, specifically an act of kindness which creates an imbalance between two parties. but here, the imbalance is insurmountable. the gap is so wide. it can’t be breached

the words fly tenderly across that gap anyway. thank you.

and so we have ray crying in his car -- we return to that image again. and of course there is so much more to be said about masculinity; about the ways in which it has been shed, and changed by ray’s relationship with beth. this is what a change in human relations means, this is what it can look like. so i have to end on it. ray, sobbing, unconsoled. 

what is unforgivable cannot be forgiven; but that doesn’t mean it’s not a radical act to try.

[recentanimenews]

Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation – 05 – Taking the Tsun with the Dere

Via a handwritten letter from Paul instructing him to read it out loud (Ghislaine can’t read), Rudeus learns about his new job as academic and magic tutor to a nine-year-old girl in the city of Roa, for whom Gislaine is both bodyguard and sword instructor. It’s a five-year commitment, ending when he turns 12, and in that time he’s forbidden to contact home.

Paul did this because he suspected Rudy and Sylphie might enter a co-dependent relationship that would be harmful for both of them. He also tells him the young lady is “fair game”, but hands off Ghislaine, whom he mentions having bedded previously. Fortunately, this is all we hear of Paul this week, and presumably for the next five years of Rudy’s life.

Rudy takes this sudden change in his life extraordinarily well for someone who had not only become comfortable in his previous life holed up in his room, but also became comfortable in his home village with Sylphie. He realizes one can become too comfortable, and life too easy. If this job will help pay academy, tuition, he’s game.

Upon meeting Phillip Boreas Greyrat, Rudy learns he’ll be under the employ of his father’s cousin (i.e. his cousin once removed), making his daughter, Eris, his second cousin. And while Phil says his daughter is “a bit willful”, that hardly does her justice. Rudy bows as a noble should, but is immediately dismissed as too young by the fiery, ultra-tsun Eris.

Eris brooks no back-talk, as when Rudy asks what age has to do with tutoring her, she slaps him across the face. He slaps back, but far from cowing her, she pounces and starts beating the shit out of him until he has to push her off with wind magic. She then chases him around the manor.

Despite this first interaction, Rudy isn’t ready to give up, which impresses Phil (at this point, all other tutor candidates quit). Rudy can see the challenge his father has laid out for him, and knows full well he’ll be laughed at if he turns tail and runs home.

More than that, Rudy has had his fill of being beaten up from his previous life. In his position as tutor he’s going to teach the intense, violent Eris that violence should never be the first resort, and one can’t get too comfortable committing it.

After proposing some kind of scheme with Phil to get Eris to accept him as her tutor, we cut to Rudy emerging from a wooden box with bound hands in a grimy dungeon. He wakes Eris up and explains the situation: they’ve been taken hostage by brigands.

When their captors enter and Eris treats them with immediate derision, she’s met with a level of violence she’s unable to keep up with. While she’s bloodied and missing several teeth, she’s still defiant. The degree to which she’s beaten also indicates to Rudy that the false kidnapping plan he arranged may have turned into the real thing.

Rudy is reasonably sure he could overpower the guards, but not sure enough to risk it, and in any case his first lesson as tutor is that might makes right, something he wants to avoid. Instead, he partially heals Eris, bars the door with stone, and busts through the window bars. Eris asks for help, but he’ll only take her with him if she promises not to yell and scream or be violent.

As the baddies bust through the barred door, Eris agrees, and Rudy whisks her off. The moment he’s fully healed her, she’s back to yelling and acting imperious. At this point he bids her farewell, but she soon forms up behind him, saying she was only joking and will honor their promise.

The two take a horse cart back to Roa without incident. The men who race ahead of them on horseback seem like bad news, but Rudy is condient once they’re within Roa’s walls that they’ll be safe. That is, until Eris is snatched up again and one of Phil’s attendants reveals he’s in league with the brigands to exact a ransom.

Paul halts their escape with Eris by erecting a stone wall in their path and prepares for battle, but he’s outnumbered and surrounded. They offer him a generous cut of the ransom equal to more than ten enrollments in Magic University with change to spare.

He admits it’s a tempting offer, but if there’s one thing his dating games have taught him, it’s how betraying the girl for money can only bode poorly for one’s affection levels and chances of winning the girl’s heart. So he rejects the offer and launches a massive firework into the sky to blind the baddies, enabling him to snatch Eris out of their clutches.

Rudy is able to get some distance between him and the brigands and lays down suppressive fire magic, but one of the baddies practices the North God Sword Style, which includes deadly sword-throwing. Rudy cannot avoid the path of thrown sword or summon magic fast enough to deflect it.

Fortunately for him, Ghislaine saw the firework and headed for its launching point. Using her immense beastperson strength and speed, she’s able to make it in time to shatter the thrown blade into metal dust and kill two of the brigands in one sensational, fluid, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it movement.

It’s a moment that briefly but powerfully demonstrates the potential of a show as well-funded and lovingly made as Mushoku Tensei—it can match the artistry and badassery of Jujusu Kaisen or Demon Slayer. Rudy is also haunted by the sight of one of the dead brigands, who is headless and robed in blood. He can’t hear, freezes up, and has to be snapped back to coherence by Ghislaine. Compare that to Eris, who is just happy to see her bodyguard and doesn’t really react to the blood.

The intensity of what Rudy just went though stays with him when they return to the Boreas Greyrat home, otherwise none the worse for wear. Rudy deems his plan to be a failure, as in the end things spiraled out of his control and he and Eris could have ended up dead without intervention from Ghislaine. Notably, Eris slaps her father’s hand away when he tries to help her, as she prefers to get up herself.

Rudy turns to leave, but after a few beats, Eris turns back around and orders him to stop, then tells him he has “special permission” to call her Eris—no “lady”, just Eris. When he asks if that means she’ll let him teach her, she turns back around, but it’s clearly not a “no”, and his mood brightens appreciably.

While an archetypal tsundere out of the gate and throughout this episode, I still found Eris’s desire to stand on her own two feet and utter lack of patience for bullshit admirable. Like Rudy when he arrived in the world and to this day, she has a lot to learn, and from reading, writing, arithmetic and magic, Rudy has a lot to offer.

The faux-then-real kidnapping was a worthy means of bringing the two together, and showing us just how awesome Ghislaine is. I’m sad Sylphie gets the short end of the stick, but it should be a fun five years. I’m hoping they don’t fly by too fast!

By: magicalchurlsukui

[ianspirations]

A BETTER KIND OF POLITICS: Chapter 5 of Fratelli Tutti

A global community of fraternity bound by ties of social friendship is possible if we upgrade to a better kind of politics, one that is truly at the service of the common good. Sadly, politics today often goes in the opposite direction by hindering progress toward a better world.

Populism and Liberalism

Populism exploits the vulnerable for its own purposes and liberalism only serves the economic interests of the powerful.

Populism is a political approach that tries to appeal to ordinary people who feel that their voice is not heard by the majority or elite. Such a politic threatens democracy because it thrives on the differences of people and in the bargain deepens the fractures. Populists try to exploit culture by pushing an ideological agenda that serves selfish purposes. To this end they are ready to exert pressure and ‘capture’ other institutions and amend laws. Despite the existence of different kinds of people there are also communitarian aspirations. “Men and women are capable of coming up with shared goals that transcend their differences and can thus engage in a common endeavour” (FT#157). We have to beware of demagoguery within politics. Our identity as ‘people’ is a shared notion that arises from social and cultural bonds. Thus, it is not something automatic and natural but something that develops gradually over a period of time and directed to a common end.

Contrary to Populist leaders we have Popular leaders who are capable of understanding the feelings and cultural dynamics of people and society. They have the potential to lead according to an enduring vision of transformation and growth that allows everyone space to pursue the common good.

One sign of populist politics is the concern for short-term advantage. Any initiative of development is done with the view of attracting votes and not for the real good of the people. Inequality can be eliminated with the help of economic growth that taps into each region’s potential and provides equal opportunity to all. Welfare projects which meet urgent needs are important but should only be a temporary response. Providing employment is one of the best ways to uplift the poor and offer them dignity through work. “Since production systems may change, political systems must keep working to structure society in such a way that everyone has a chance to contribute his/her own talents and efforts” (FT#162). Work does more than provide economic sustenance, it allows for personal growth, building of healthy relationships, self-expression and exchange of gifts; it gives a sense of shared responsibility for the development of the world.

The concepts of people, along with their community and cultural bonds and neighbour are criticized by individualistic liberalists. Charity unites both the individual and the social. We cannot have a private life without a public order. An individual’s life depends on the security and stability assured by law; their wellbeing requires that there exist a division of labour, commercial exchange, social justice and political citizenship. Real charity is able to recognize these as necessities for an individual and is willing to offer it even to a foreigner or a neglected brother or sister. To do this, one can have recourse to various institutions that are willing to offer their services to provide these basic necessities. Even the Samaritan needed the inn to care for the hurt person. Love of neighbour is concrete and makes use of every resource to bring about historical change that benefits the poor and disadvantaged. But leftist ideologies and social doctrines can also prove ineffective if they are propelled by individualistic ambitions. Therefore, we see the need for worldwide organization to resolve the problems plaguing our world. There is no one solution.

Everything hinges on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles. Until then, political propaganda, the media and shapers of public opinion will continue to promote an individualistic culture that perpetuates the problem. The tendency to selfishness or what is known within Christian circles as Concupiscence is not limited to our times. It has been present since Adam and has only taken on different forms in different ages. It can be overcome with the help of God. (FT#166) Education and upbringing, concern for others, a well-integrated view of life and spiritual growth are all essential for better relations and a better society.

Some liberal approaches fail to consider the impact of concupiscence and hence envisage a world that is determined by certain laws and capable of providing its own solutions for every problem. This is clearly not true. Encouraging the rich to get richer and purporting that their excess wealth will ‘trickle’ over to help the disadvantaged just does not hold any water in reality. Such alleged ‘spillovers’ do not resolve inequality or the violence that ensues from desperation. We need an economic policy that encourages business creativity and creates jobs. A business that seeks quick profits ends up creating more havoc than good. The pandemic has shown that “not everything can be resolved by market freedom. It has also shown that, in addition to recovering sound political life that is not subject to the dictates of finance, we must put human dignity back at the centre and on that pillar build the alternative social structures we need” (FT#168).

We need an economic framework that integrates popular movements of the unemployed, temporary, informal and other kinds of workers who do not find a place in existing structures. Political and economic institutions stand to gain from allowing for the excluded to be included in the task of building up a common destiny. These movements act as ‘social poets’ who work, propose, promote and liberate; they make possible integral human development. Many might consider them troublesome and disruptive but they ensure that democracy stays alive and remains true to its nature of being a government for the people, by the people and of the people.

The response to the financial crisis of 07-08 was a lame effort at revival that did not include rethinking strategies to avoid such a crisis in the future but which rather “fostered greater individualism, less integration and increased freedom” for the wealthy to retain their wealth (FT#170). In keeping with the concept of justice, no individual or group can consider themselves to be above any other; they have no right to bypass the rights and dignity of others in serving their own interests. In order to prevent this we need a strong judicial system and an effective distribution of power among the population. What is noticeable is that politics is coming under the influence of economics such that those with economic power wield immense power within the political arena whether they enter into it directly or not. Often, this economic power is transnational, that is, it goes beyond state or national borders. Therefore, it is necessary to have “some form of world authority regulated by law” which can regulate transnational economics and impose sanctions if necessary, so as to prevent transnational economic powers from interfering and influencing local and global politics, and promoting the “global common good” and the “defence of fundamental human rights” (FT#172).

In this regard, the UN needs to evolve into something more than just an advisory and administrative body. It has to be able to set “clear legal limits to avoid power being co-opted only by a few countries and to prevent cultural impositions or a restriction of the basic freedoms of weaker nations on the basis of ideological differences” (FT#173).

In order to achieve these goals all of us have to show courage and generosity. To this end, agreements have to be honoured and controversies have to be resolved as peacefully as possible. It is fortuitous that many groups and organizations are striving to make up for the deficiencies of governments. Their work is a “concrete application of the principle of subsidiarity which justifies the participation and activity of communities and organizations on lower levels as a means of integrating and complementing the activity of the state” (FT#175).

Social and Political Charity

For many people, politics is a dirty word. This association has come through the way politics is done in many parts. But politics is essential to society and to building a better world. Recognizing all people as family and seeking social friendship is not a utopian ideal, “it demands decisive commitment to devising effective means to this end” (FT#180). This is a work of charity; politics is in fact, “a lofty vocation and one of the highest forms of charity, inasmuch as it seeks the common good” (FT#180).

Putting Jesus’ command of love of neighbour into action is itself a political act. Love of neighbour does not stop with those who are close to us but extends to macro relationships which are social, economic and political. Every action inspired by the Church’s social teaching is an act of charity that seeks to build a better world. We are fully human when we form part of a society but in the collective, the individual is valuable. Therefore, growth, development and progress cannot be individual feats but have to be communitarian. Business today is focused on the individual but a healthy politics will ensure that it does not restrict itself to the individual but rather extend to the whole community.

There is a form of love that is elicited, that is, actions which flow out of a deep love for people. There is another form of love which is commanded, that is, actions which “spur people to create more sound institutions, more just regulations, more supportive structures” (FT#186). This latter form of love encourages social friendship because it cannot see others suffer, deprived or exploited.

A simple act of charity can give a hungry person something to eat but a politician through a higher form of charity can create an opportunity for that person to earn their food. Such a form of charity ought to be the spiritual heart of politics. It has a preferential love for those in greatest need. Education has a role to play in helping each person shape their own future. Politicians need to take account and act against those things which threaten the fundamental human rights. They have to be men and women of vision whose concern is not about winning elections but finding solutions to the various challenges that hinder the common good.

We are still far from a globalization of the most basic of human rights: food! Politics needs to make the elimination of hunger a top priority. The huge amounts of wasted food speak of a crime against humanity. Another shameful practice is human trafficking. Politicians would do better to waste less time on speeches and give more time to eradicating these miseries (FT#189).

Political charity is expressed in a spirit of openness. Politicians ought to foster encounter and consensus on important issues. They should be ready to listen to alternative points of view and thus make room for different voices and opinions. In a world that is rearing fundamentalism and intolerance, we can make a difference by being respectful of others, welcoming differences, giving importance to the dignity of people over ideas and projects. Disagreements can lead to conflict but they are necessary for healthy societies; uniformity only leads to stagnation.

Politicians need to beware of the modern tendency to functionalize the satisfaction of human desires. Instead of viewing people as persons with an identity and interests, they are seen as sick and in need of medical attention, struggling and in need of financial backing, homeless and in need of a home or frustrated and in need of entertainment. We have to be aware that persons are persons at the end of the day and not mere beneficiaries.

Political love is also a tender love. Tenderness means being close to someone. This is a path for the strongest and most courageous. The ability to be tender to the most needy and oppressed is challenging but necessary and fulfilling. Political life cannot only be about achieving great results that is not possible all the time. It has to be about respecting people for who they are and giving them an opportunity to fulfil their potential. One might not achieve great things in a political career but every act of love is not lost to the universe, it remains in the world as a vital force (FT#195). For this reason, it is noble to place hope in the hidden power of the seeds of goodness that we sow. This makes starting new initiatives for a better future meaningful.

When we approach politics in this way we will see it as something noble. The focus needs to shift from media posturing and marketing oneself to focusing on how much love one has shown through one’s work.

[ask-beacons-finest]

Information for Team VILT

Team Name: Team VILT Team Sponsor: Ask-Beacons-Finest School: Beacon Academy

Team member one: Verrus Phorona Syyklah - Human female - 16 General Description: Born and Raised in the deserts that exist between Vale and Vacuo, to a clan of Desert folk that are solely female, this causes a very heavy distrust and dislike towards men, some go as far to attack on sight. Due to their solitary lives, they speak a language unique only to them. Verrus was born to the village's PaahEe, or "Queen", being the closest translation. Due to being the next in line to take over the Village's affairs Verrus spent her entire life proving herself through the harsh challenges of her people, including killing the ShaSkro-Dhemva, known in English as, "The Great Demon Scorpion of the Sand", at the age of eight, with no weapons, locked within the Village's temple. Afterwards, she was tasked with filling her body with the imagery of defeated monsters (A ceremonial process of kill, take blood, and use the blood to tattoo self), which in turn expanded her pool of available summons. Her first kill, which was tattooed directly above her heart as is tradition, was a large Sand Scarab, she has lovingly named ShaPuun, "Sha" being a prefix meaning Sand, and Puun, a word meaning something along the lines of "An everlasting connection", she was able to collect nearly two dozen before her coming of age. She was exiled from her village at 15 as is tradition, tasked with traveling and learning about the outside world, something her mother had done before her, and something her future daughter will do as well, a good leader requires outside knowledge if they are to properly defend their people.

Verrus found herself lost in Vale's forest for several months, being sent in the direction of Beacon after bumping into a beautiful blonde woman, who later introduced herself as Yang Xiao Long, and holding her ground in the quick fight that took place afterward. After a quick explanation of her situation, as well as the reference of who sent her, Weiss and Blake agreed to allow her to stay and study as a student of Beacon, but only under the condition that she opens communication between her people and Beacon when she takes her place as the new PaahEe, something her mother and village elders would never approve of. She agreed to this promise.

Verrus is incredibly tall, 6'9", as is natural for her people and will grow even taller with time. She is muscular and toned, as it's needed to survive. Her skin is a dark shade of brown, resembling almost the sand she calls home.

   Aura: Gold colored, has a large pool (though most of it is lost due to her semblance rather than taking hits).

  Semblance: Can summon any and all of the creatures tattooed on her body, the drawback is that a summon requires both aura and blood. The amount of aura and blood used is dependent on the size of the summon, as well as her personal connection to it, it can be mixed, however. If it requires 5 whole parts to summon a creature, she can do 3/5 blood and 2/5 aura, or 4/5 aura and 1/5 blood, this is entirely up to her. She will not summon the ShaSkro-Dhemva, ever, due to the fact that it requires all of her aura and it's summoning will result in her death. No matter what.

  Weapon: Two Khopesh Swords that can combine together at the hilt, which expands to form a staff. The staff is necessary to use her semblance as well. Her weapons have no name as is tradition to her people, since names belong only to things with souls (This can also occasionally lead to confusion when speaking about Grimm).

 Personality: Very respectable, always attempts to honor the right thing to do. However, her general demeanor and dry way of speaking (combined with her physical appearance) tends to scares most people. Becomes much softer at night, speaking quieter and with much more emotion in her voice, her explanation for this includes her people's deep love and adoration of the moon, stating "The moon shall never see you harsh, for it will punish you with its tears." Her little knowledge about general life in the civilized world outside of combat can be the cause of a laugh or two, often depends on her team to help explain everyday things ranging from but not limited to, showers, candies with wrappers, and the general taboo-ness of public nudity (Something perfectly accepted in her desert home). Despite being oblivious to the daily livelihood of civilization she is extremely willing to learn, happily accepting lessons on how to blend in, this has caused issues in her trusting the wrong people and suffering consequences because of it. She has little tolerance for disrespect of authority, which is stated clearly by people's strength rather than status, this did cause an early issue with Professor Arc due to him both being a man and missing a leg. It was quickly set straight by Jaune easily obliterating her test of summons, she then spent the next month polishing the memorial for those who fell in the "Great Grimm Attack" as punishment for her rudeness, something she accepted happily, her outlook on Jaune has grown exponentially, and she is now one of his favorite students.

  Outfit: Nearly always wears loose brown bottoms that closely resemble a robe, as well as a white silk wrapping around her top with only one long and loose sleeve. The school's dress code has made her start wearing a black wrapping around her chest due to the silk being see-through, she does not entirely understand the reasoning behind this. She keeps her weapons sheathed along her back for easy access, very rarely removes them from her person despite school rules (Blake eventually convinces Weiss to allow it due partially to "cultural differences", but mostly due to "You will sleep on the couch tonight if you don't just settle it this way.").

Team Member two: Iccarus Athenia Augor - Faunus Male (Hawk Trait: Eyes, expects to grow feathers in his hair as both his parents do) - 16 General description: Born in the forests of Vale and raised by his mother and father, Iccarus knew nothing else aside from what they taught him and the things he learned himself on the road. His parents are travelling merchants and he's seen the majority of the continent of Sanus, throughout their travels Iccarus slowly learned how to defend himself from Grimm and humans alike from his father, while his mother spent time teaching him how to use dust the best she could, but her knowledge was limited; Weiss Schnee, the headmistress of Beacon Academy, would later personally tutor him in the art of dust manipulation. After first seeing her in action during the Vytal tournament, Iccarus fell in love with Pyrrha Nikos, going so far as to adopting her fighting style and picking a spear as his preferred weapon. The news of her demise crushed him immensely but also gave him new purpose.

After much convincing his parents agreed to allow him to attend Beacon, the next time they traveled to the city of Vale, he applied and was accepted (With a personal visit from Weiss herself) due to his abilities. It was a tearful goodbye to his parents, but they were very anxious being in the big city and had to take their leave. Iccarus would not learn the truth behind his parents for quite some time. There is, however, a sliver of doubt hidden away in the recess of his mind, as one night when he was very young two bandits attempted to assault his mother. Iccarus could do nothing but watch on in fear as they ripped their way through his mother's clothes. Before anything graphic could happen his father jumped to the rescue, committing graphic violence of his own upon one bandit while his mother took the opportunity to destroy the other, it was the first and last time Iccarus had ever seen his parents commit violence, and he has since repressed the memory. It has caused doubt in his belief that they are simple traveling merchants, though he would never admit it.

Iccarus is short, only standing at 5'7", with a thin and fragile looking body, this is reflected by his quick movements and "glass-cannon" approach to combat

  Aura: White in color, with the sparks taking on a more feathery aspect, very small pool of mana

  Semblance: Dust control. Can manipulate dust to his will, focuses mostly on ice and fire. Due to Headmistress Weiss's (incredibly harsh) private lessons, his manipulation has expanded to include lightning as well, and he has even proved to show some skill in mixing dust types for it to gain new form, something that even Weiss has a horribly difficult time doing. His best combination is fire and ice, creating scalding hot steam, despite being his best combination it is still laughable in terms of control. The drawback is obvious, dust is required and consumed on use, once out of dust completely he can no longer use his semblance. His control is also reliant on his current state of mind, with extreme focus being a heavy requirement.

 Weapon: "Milo Reborn" a spear heavily modeled after Pyrrha's, unlike many other students Iccarus's spear was not up to the school's weapon code, so before the entrance ceremony Weiss had Jaune bring him to Signal's weapon smithery (Jaune had an interesting heart-opening moment when Iccarus explained his admiration of Pyrrha and how he idolizes her, Iccarus is unaware why Jaune reacted as such) so he could create a new weapon. It is a long spear that can collapse into a heavy pistol, he dislikes the pistol version and tends to not use it much. His other weapon "Labyrinth and Minotaur" are two golden bangles that he wears on his left wrist, he knows them as heirlooms from his mother's family. They are what his dust supply is stored in and can surprisingly hold a fair amount of refined dust.

  Personality: A hot-headed fool, but one who will always follow his heart regardless of where it may lead. The constant running of his mouth has brought equal amounts praise and trouble his way, more often than not the praise comes immediately before the trouble. Enjoys pestering people but never goes too far, and feels horrid if he ever does, works hard to make up for it. Very defensive of his parent's and their profession, despite having thoughts in the back of his head about what their true livelihood could possibly be, he will never allow anyone to slander them and call them anything besides travelling merchants without a fight (With no consideration, or possibly no care, on the level of skill of the opponent). Regardless of all this, he maintains a heart of gold, and will sacrifice anything and everything for both his friends and the innocent people he feels he must protect as a huntsmen. He refuses to lose out on his share of the blame should things go wrong yet will still complain about the punishment despite this.

  Outfit: Commonly wears a white silk tunic (This has caused several outbursts from Verrus, as she is still confused as to why she needs to wrap her chest while he does not, despite his clothing also being partially see through) with a golden rope tied around the waist, wears his golden bangles on his left wrist, his weapon sheathed along his back in spear form normally

Team Member 3: Alician Levora - Faunus Female (Tiger trait, teeth, eyes, appetite) - 15 General description: Alician knows nothing about her birth parents at all, having grown up in the city slums of Vale she learned how to fend for herself through thievery and manipulation; once she discovered her semblance, however, she never bothered again with the finesse of criminal activity and preferred to take what she needed, and wanted, by force. This type of activity got her quickly noticed by a small splintered remnant of the White Fang, they offered her a place to belong and she took it at the young age of thirteen. Her stay in the White Fang was cut considerably short, only receiving basic training as well as having smithed her own weapon; After only a few months the splinter White Fang group she was adopted into was finally tracked down by Blake Belladonna on her quest to either change the remaining members of the Fang, or destroy them. Alician's comrades chose the violent option, refusing to give up their outdated ideology and quickly suffered the consequence. Despite maintaining a tracklist of criminal activities this was the first time she had ever seen anyone die, Blake gave her a choice rather than killing her, join her at Beacon or die that day. Alician took to Blake's side.

Until reaching the proper age of fifteen to enroll at Beacon, Blake kept Alician a secret from Weiss. In a way Blake was Alician's first mother, showing her both affection and enforcing structure in her life. Blake trained Alician day and night and kept her under strict watch through her network of ex-White Fang soldiers and spies. When she was finally old enough to enroll Blake introduced her to Weiss as a reformed White Fang member who wished to enroll in the school, Weiss was none the wiser about the nearly two years Blake kept her under her wing, and much to Alician's anger, Blake seemingly has cut any motherly ties to the girl, treating her no different than any other student. This has caused a slight resurgence of a dark spark in Alician's soul, whether or not that expands is up to fate, or a hand that has the power to shape fate.

Alcian is short, reaching only 5'6", and is quite scrawny despite her massive animalistic appetite.

  Aura: Beautifully purple, has recently discovered small red streaks through her aura however, has kept quiet about it. Her aura pool is ranked average.

  Semblance: The ability to enter a state of super-human strength, with almost immeasurable raw power, can also "focus" this state to specific parts of her body (Only her arms, only her legs, only one arm, etc. etc.). Several heavy drawbacks to this include; Entering the state begins a "countdown" of her aura, steadily dropping points as she spends time in this state. Considerable aura drop when sudden movements such as jumping or throwing punches, a single heavy punch would be enough to crush an airship, but will also drop her aura by nearly 15% in an instant. Has also recently learned from Beacon's nurse that her semblance is too strong for her body to handle, and spending an excessive amount of time in this state will destroy her muscular system, with no hope of recovery. This state also provides no sort of protection, so all incoming hits are still taken at full force, pain included.

  Weapon: "Blood Fang" a large broadsword with the ability to split along the blade to form a whip, a form she rarely uses and is therefore often a surprise to opponents. The sword itself was unbelievably heavy after its creation, this was only added to under her time training with Blake, who supplied her with and taught her how to integrate a new form of dust into her weapon. This experimental dust has both reinforced her weapon immensely and added a seemingly impossible amount of mass to her weapon, giving it a weight that is impossible for her to wield it without constant use of her semblance state; aside from her the only person to ever hold this weapon was Yatsuhashi, and even he commented upon its immense weight and unruliness, and could hardly lift it above his waist. Due to its extreme weight, her general approach to battle is to destroy the enemy as fast as possible to minimize aura drain.

  Personality: Alician tends to be as outward and talkative as Iccarus (and far more flirtatious, especially with their leader), much to the exhaustion of fellow schoolmates, faculty, and teammates. However, she's disgusted by his childish antics and will constantly punish him for doing so; the amount of money the school has spent refurbishing the dining hall and various walls around campus is much higher than Weiss wishes it was. Iccarus is not the only person Alician will send flying through school property, however, as her quick and fiery temper often shows itself in her fists. It has caused the student body to feel a range of emotions when they hear her name, ranging from respect and jealousy to hatred and fear. Alician states the latter doesn't bother her in the slightest, saying she's used to it from her past as well as faunus heritage. Deep down it's horribly crushing, as she desperately requires a constant sense of belonging, though this (along with her other insecurities) is not something she speaks about.

  Outfit: Often wears the school's uniform due to not having many personal clothes. Beacon's uniform did not change over the years, as Weiss was a fan of the original design.

Team Member 4: Nekros Thembrosa - Human (questionable) Female - Age Unknown, appears to be six- or seventeen, has looked this way for years. General Description: Being born to a hidden away Village in the midst of the forests of Vale cut off from most societies. A strange occult like village that has an unhealthy obsession with the creatures of Grimm. As was supposedly common for her people, her skin is pale white, with dark veins easily visible beneath. Very little is known about this village as it seemingly no longer exists, burnt down ruins are all that remains of her people. From what little she has explained to Weiss and Blake her people were obsessed with the power of Grimm and for generations worked on obtaining it, she has admitted that several new species of Grimm have been created by her people, the worst so far being the Whisp. A small tadpole-esque creature with sharp teeth and claws, its small size makes battle impossible, it can easily be crushed and killed with a bare hand. It does, however, latch onto hunters and begins to whisper dark thoughts into their ear while simultaneously feeding slowly off their aura. These whispers have driven several huntsmen and huntresses, even a small handful of experienced individuals, to madness resulting in their betraying their team and taking their own life. Nekros seemingly shows little remorse for this and has even been spotted toying with Whisps prior to destroying them. These actions have amplified Blake's and Weiss's concern about her.

Her enrollment at Beacon was a strange one, the remnants of Team RWBY found her sitting within the ruins of Beacon. Yang's immediate thought after a short explanation from the child was to get rid of her, as her bloodline seemed to be a danger to the world. Weiss and Blake refused, stating that this power, should it be properly molded into something good, would be a huge boon for the Huntsmen academy. Yang reluctantly agreed after some convincing but only under the condition she could keep an eye on the child. Weiss, Blake, Yang, and Nekros slowly began to rebuild the school two years after its destruction, slowly gaining more followers over time. Once the school was completed, Weiss and Blake (Yang had long since left to join Ruby) offered Nekros housing yet decided against making her a student at this time, as they wished to learn more about her, her history, her power, and her connection to Grimm. Two years passed until the school welcomed its first official wave of freshman, both Weiss and Blake denied Nekros entry to any of the teams as they were continuing their investigation into her, she was not hurt by this. It wasn't until two more years, when the first wave of students became Juniors that Nekros found a team that sparked her interest, despite Blake still feeling uneasy about this, Weiss allowed Nekros to join Team VILT. Nekros is not allowed to speak of her personal past or the fact she's spent the last five years at Beacon.

Nekros is 5'7", her body is incredibly scrawny and boney, a long thick scar stretches the length of her abdomen from her right shoulder to her left hip.

 Aura: Black in color, her aura pool is not well documented. It's thought to be average.

 Weapon: It is uncertain just what exactly Nekro's weapon is, Weiss theorizes it's a summon, while Blake says it's a manipulation of her semblance, Jaune shrugged the question off, stating, "Who cares, it kills Grimm." The weapon itself is a pitch black scythe that looks chaotic and jagged in design, with the ability to "grow" the blade into a scythe resembling a crescent moon, as well as a full moon glaive. The weapon is stored within her cloak it seems, however, due to the dimensions of the scythe that seems to be impossible. Nekros makes no comment other than, "It is a part of me."

 Semblance: Nekros has the ability to turn her body into a black smoke, both her whole body and only specific parts. This makes hitting her extremely difficult, and even if a hit is managed it's likely she'll allow you to pass right through her before materializing again quickly, crushing the intruding item be it a weapon or arm as her body reforms. There's seemingly no physical drawback, however, her teammates have stated that she looks slightly smaller every now and then when reforming from her smokey form. Blake and Weiss agree that a loss of smoke can result in a loss of physical mass. This smoke also appears to be what her weapon is formed from, there seems to be no other solid forms she can harden her smoke into. She also has the ability to "infiltrate" an opponent's body within her smoke form, taking complete control of their actions until she decides to leave. Leaving consists of giving the control back to the individual she took over, who quickly begins to cough out a fair amount of disgusting black sludge, Nekros shortly climbs out of the sludge as if it were a pool of water, despite being an inch deep at the thickest points.

 Personality: Nekros is horribly quiet and drawn away from social engagements. She's considered an oddity at best and a freak of nature at worst by students and faculty alike. Despite appearing as someone with no emotions, let alone emotional connection, she sticks to her team like glue. This has caused some levels of hilarity more or less with the sense of "personal space", especially with Iccarus, who she seems to have claimed as her favorite of the team. A fact that makes him very uneasy. Nekros also has an uncharacteristically strange love of sweets and will turn savage in order to get ahold of them. A single piece of candy has jokingly been named as her greatest weakness. Interestingly enough, she does wish to be a normal student, with friends who care for her as much as she cares for them, due to her physical appearance, mysterious semblance, and dodgy past, many tend to not trust her walking down the same hall as them, several students have even made a scene of attacking her on sight, all attempts have failed miserably. After one considerably horrible occasion where another student nearly lost an arm after lodging it through her chest, Nekros let out a (painful) sob and exploded into a cloud of smoke which quickly disappeared, she was gone for several days and returned after as if nothing happened. It is unknown to her team what she did during this time exactly.

Outfit: A heavy black cloak encasing almost her entire body, her face (and only a half) remains uncovered at any given time, allowing a pitch black eye to be seen. It appears the cloak itself is made from the very same smoke her semblance changes her into. The cloak also seems to function differently than one would expect, billowing when there's no wind, remaining still when it there is wind, it's thought that Nekros can control her cloak just as a faunus could control their tail. It also appears her arms can exit anywhere from the cloak, despite there being no visible opening in the cloak itself.

[ofauroradreams]

MUSE

BASICS:

Name: Liana Carmen Morales [née Travers]. Age: 17+ years. Nicknames: Lily or Li. Possibly Ana. Aliases: Desdemona White. The Wild Rose. Carmenita. Birthday: August 5th. Zodiac: Leo. Gender: Female (she/her). Orientation: Pansexual. Nationality: American. Occupation: Self-Employed. Languages: Spanish; English; Japanese. Beliefs: Wicca/Paganism. Personality: ESFJ – The Provider. Morality: Chaotic Good. Element: Fire. Animal: Dolphin.

BIOGRAPHY:

     A bright personality, Liana radiates warmth and friendliness. Always with a kind word to share, she’s a very sociable person; craving interaction with other people as a way to fulfil her desire for affection. She harbors a deep-seated fear of loneliness and thus aims to have as many friends as possible; although she will always hold a select few in higher regard. She seeks pleasure from the simple things in life, like rain, because laughter is important to her and joy should come easy. She’s the type of person who’ll start dancing to music in the middle of the street, with no mind to anyone else.

     For all that she wears her emotions on her sleeve, however, Liana holds herself quite close to the chest. Diagnosed with a number of mental health issues, she struggles to let people see her true self for fear of rejection. She tends to let her own achievements or issues slip under the radar as she doesn’t consider them important. The most important thing in Liana’s life tends to be the people she cares about: she’s very loyal and borders on self-sacrificing when their safety is at risk. Due to long-term trauma, she believes everyone will leave her in the end, so she makes sure to relish the time she spends with them.

     A Chaotic Good, Liana’s morals are guided by her own principles above all else. Although her intentions generally align with those of the world around her, she’s not afraid to break rules or expectations to achieve her goals: which usually revolve around helping others. She generally tries to resolve confrontations with minimal violence; but don’t mistake her for a pacifist: she is very much capable, and willing, of killing in defense of the people she cares about. Her main fear is becoming too much like her father as a killer, and thus she’ll tend to feel each and every kill as deeply as the last; but she is built to carry such weight. Liana has, and always will, bear these burdens so no one else has to.

     Anger is Liana’s biggest flaw. You might wonder how this is when she never seems to get angry; but that’s because Liana knows anger is her biggest flaw and thus, she attempts to avoid it. But Liana carries an anger deep in her very bones, an anger at the world and life and her childhood; and thus, it is an inevitable emotion. While hot and volatile on the surface, this deep anger can become cold and dangerous: when truly angry, Liana has no compassion or morals or mercy. This anger desires pain and suffering; and a truly furious Liana has no qualms about delivering such. This is why Liana works so hard to be kind and compassionate in life: to counter the weight of her anger.

     A potentially dangerous enemy, she makes a better ally; but to truly know Liana at her best is to be her friend.

HISTORY:

     LIANA WAS BORN AT SUNSET ON A TUESDAY. Loved by her mother and hated by her father, she grew up in a volatile household. Belittled and bullied, her father became increasingly violent after the birth of her younger brother when she was two. Rejected by her only father, she sought his approval over the years, often allowing herself to be abused if only to receive his attention. In equal measures, she sought to escape him and thus a lifelong love of art and music developed. However, shortly after she turned eleven, she became victim to her father’s most violent attack yet; and when she attempted to defend herself, she ended up killing her mother instead.

     IN THE AFTERMATH, LIANA BECAME DISTANT AND AGGRESSIVE. Suffering from PTSD among other issues, she often lashed out, trying to hurt people; and even experienced increasingly frequent blackouts and memory lapses. Unable to contain or control her emotions, she turned them inwards instead, and started hurting herself. Rejecting therapy and even medication, her father locked her away in a children’s psychiatric hospital after she attacked one of her teachers. When even that failed, Liana’s last chance came in the shape of a mental health hospital designed for patients like her: located in Japan. With no other choice, Liana agreed.

     FOR THE NEXT THREE YEARS, LIANA WAS OFFERED THE HELP AND SUPPORT SHE NEEDED to manage her PTSD and anger. Although she resisted the aid at first, her mentor was patient and slowly she started to open up. Taught a mix of martial arts, meditation and music, she began to heal from her father’s abuse and the death of her mother; eventually picking up guitar and photography to supplement her therapy. When her mentor, with whom she was close, fell terminally ill and her progress started to regress, she was prescribed medication and it was a testament to her improvement that she willingly took it. Shortly after her mentor died, Liana was grief-stricken but managed to finish her program and sought to return to America.

     AGED 15, SHE RETURNED HOME. Unable to locate her father or her brother, she was placed in the care system temporarily, being fostered by a family with another teenage boy. She returned to her dance and art classes, where she met a boy by the name of Damien, with whom she developed her first relationship. At the age of 16, Liana applied for emancipation from her father but was able to stay with her foster family through this process. During this time, her father was arrested for a number of violent crimes committed through the city, and Liana was eventually outed by the media as his daughter. Subjected to cruel trolling, both online and off, this all came to a head when her foster family’s house was set on fire. Although, no one was injured, except the family cat, Liana decided to move away to protect her family.

     AFTER CHANGING HER NAME TO HER MOTHER’S MAIDEN NAME, Liana attempted to rebuild her life, while dealing with her father’s court case, and her brother’s involvement with a gang. Using her skills unconventionally, she tried to bring down this gang and free her brother before he went too far; despite his rejection of their relationship. However, she was forced to give up her endeavour when her proximity to gang activity ended with her getting shot in the shoulder. After recovering from her injury, she decided to move back to the city in which she was born and try to build a brand new life for herself. And this is where our story begins…

[bioticgoddess]

The Mountain (3/?)

Notes: Chaptire Trois, as promises! I’m sorry it’s so late - needed a rewrite when I went down one of those “writing rabbit holes”. Please let me know if there are any issues with the link! As usual: Feedback is welcome!

Also, what would be Russian is writtine in italics between < >. Sadly, not a language I speak. 

Pairings: Bucky x OC (Taryn Lantz)

Series Summary: The Avengers (Tony really) finds the HYDRA base where Bucky underwent surgery and conditioning in order to make him into the Winter Solider.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Violence, etc. 

Enjoy!

The MOUNTAIN: The Winter Soldier

Bucky sat in one of the multitude of classroom like training rooms in the Compound. He’d wanted to be alone. Sitting up on the screen was the face of a his veritable doppelganger: Arkady Palevchenko.  He’d been the reason, it turned out, that Steve and the others froze during the de-briefing a couple weeks earlier. The reason he had been pulled of missions – which Taryn then pulled herself in protest. He smiled to himself, Arkady’s personnel folder plastered on the wall.

As if he were having it now, Bucky could hear the conversation he’d had with Steve the following morning. “Do you know him,” the blond had asked.

At the time, Bucky felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Arkady had been the only potential Winter Soldier candidate they trained with him as an almost equal. The two looked alike, had similar backgrounds – albeit Arkady was from Utah not New York – and even had similar combat skill levels.  He’d been someone they suspected could be Bucky’s replacement if he ever happened to die or be utilized should they need another Asset. That had been until Bucky was able to get to freedom. He remembered his throat went dry and he had cottonmouth thinking about the altercation that followed. It was the only one from their time on the run that Taryn didn’t know about, at least not at the time.

She knew now. They all knew. He hadn’t stayed around to see the reactions from the rest of the team.

Arkady had been sent to finish the one failed mission of the Winter Soldier. Capture or kill/recover an Inhuman for in depth study in order to replicate Inhuman DNA and abilities in HYDRA agents and volunteers. But before he got to Taryn, he’d run into Bucky. In the conversation with Steve he’d said, “I know him.

Brow furrowed, Steve asked, “What can you tell us about him?”

“He won’t be a problem,” his face was dark, and he’d answered before he could even think about what he was saying. They all knew what he meant.  The fact that his face fell and he bowed his head slightly practically telegraphed that he’d been the one to put an end to the second successful Winter Soldier.

With a heavy sigh, Steve had asked, “What happened Buck?” It came tumbling out: How Arkady had run into him in the street when they were in Canada. Taryn had been out getting them supplies when the two men’s paths crossed. He’d called him “soldat”, the same impersonal title everyone used for him. They’d had a conversation, he told Steve, where Arkady confirmed he was there for the girl and that it would be far better for the “soldat” to complete his mission. When Bucky hadn’t moved or made any sign of recognition, was the moment the other man had known something was wrong. This had been the other man’s first official mission, period. After a moment, he’d continued, outlining what had happened, the length and severity of the fight and how he’d kept it from Taryn. During his account,  Natasha, Wanda, Taryn, and Vision had congregated around the trio (Tony had been there when Steve started with Bucky as well).

After that he’d hastily left the main room. Something about the story had put the others on edge, at least that was what he suspected. That was how he read the team’s response. He’d dreaded it. But worse he’d dreaded reliving Arkady’s death. The youth had been the first that he’d had to kill after he and Taryn took off on the run. No the first since breaking free of HYDRA though.

Hands rested on his shoulders and Bucky jumped about eighteen inches into the air. “Jesus,” he snapped, turning as his feet hit the floor to find Steve staring him in the face. “Punk,” the brunette groaned at his oldest living friend.

“Thought it’d be better if I talked to you,” he said.

Sighing, Bucky shifted to sit on one of the tables, “There’s nothing to talk about Steve.”

The blonde sighed, shaking his head, “Really? You killed him Buck. Normally I wouldn’t bat an eye at that, but…”

“It was my choice,” he finished. “I could have probably just ...I don’t know. But I also remembered what had been done to Arkady, knew the kind of soldier he was. He always stood almost as good a chance as you did at being unaffected by any non-lethal force I could’ve used.” He swallowed. He hadn’t gone into details with him, but he could remember pinning Arkady. Using the same move Steve had used on him in the Insight Helicarrier. Could remember the cracking popping noise that followed after dislocating both of the young man’s shoulders. The other soldier had lacked a bionic arm – or bionics of any kind – and the pain of two dislocations put him down. Then, without thinking about the consequences, Bucky had used his weight and the strength of his metal arm to keep Arkady pinned down and snap his neck. After which he had dragged Arkady’s body away and left him somewhere HYDRA would find him.

It was better if none of the public found him. Arkady, unlike Bucky, had actually been a HYDRA Agent. His face plastered across the news would attract more attention and inquiry to the area than he was capable of dealing with. At the time, he’d hoped it would be enough to buy them the time needed for Bucky and Taryn to get underway for Portugal. In hindsight, he’d been right.  

Unbeknownst to Bucky or Taryn, three weeks after arriving in Portugal, Arkady had been found in a cryotube in the HYDRA base near where they’d stayed in New Brunswick. That was until today.

Steve leaned against a heavy table behind him, partially seated on it, and asked, “I understand that you had to protect the both of you but still.”  

“No you don’t.” He sighed heavily, staring down at his palms, imagining the blood that he felt stained them over the last fifty plus years, “There’s no way, even if I’d been alone, that Arkady would have lived. He would have turned the situation into one where I’d have been forced to kill him. But Taryn, she was the one time I had a choice before the fall of SHIELD.” He swallowed, blue eyes beginning to trace the lines on his palms. “I couldn’t…” he trailed off, not ready to share the rest of that thought.

Steve’s face was soft for the first time in ages. “Does she know that’s why the other Winter Soldier died?”

“Except he didn’t,” Bucky added, handed a sheet of paper to his best friend. “I broke his neck for nothing. Arkady has been out there killing and committing whatever atrocities for hire he’s been able to since he was pulled out of cryo. Someone saved him. Or maybe I didn’t do my job right.” They all knew the goal in letting Bucky and Arkady become close had been to make him less likely to kill the younger man if it came to it. Despite everything HYDRA had done to foster a bond between Bucky and his would-be replacement,

Taryn’s voice was soft when she finally interrupted the two men. Neither had heard her slink down the corridor towards them. “But you did Sarge, you protected us both. And now, if he’s coming for us, we’re gonna know. So, you don’t have to do this alone - not anymore. Well...you didn’t need to then either,” her voice was soft, but there was also no sign of scolding.

“When did you,” Steve asked, waving his hand at the room and the doorway. He’d been certain that none of the others had followed him to the training classroom.

Pointing at the ceiling she chuckled, “FRIDAY’s a traitor.”

Bucky looked between his best friend and his partner and relaxed for the time. He knew they would both forgive or at least understand what happened - even when he wasn’t willing to do the same for himself.

---

Out in the treeline, Arkady Palevchenko watched the Avenger’s compound. The Winter Soldier, his former idol, was going to die for his twofold failures. Then he’d kill the Inhuman - it would be a waste but it would make him feel better. Then he was going after the Captain - that was for pride, for HYDRA.  This plan was everything. It was the only thing. He had focused on during the last few years to the point of obsession. All the time spent time in surgery, physical therapy, and rehab to fix his spine was for this.

---

Bucky’s anxiety level didn’t relent over the next several weeks. He could feel that something was coming, that they weren’t done with the events in the Alps. Not yet. He looked over the recon that Steve and Tony had done -no sign of Arkady.

Clint and Natasha were out in the field looking for anything sign of him. Some alias they could use or even a current photo. It was a safe presumption that he’d changed his appearance in the last several years. Bucky actually half regretted not doing something along those lines. Then again, he tended to blend in so long as his arm was covered. Shaking his head he banished the tangential thought. He couldn’t afford to be distracted at the moment.   

Vision and Wanda had gone on a mission. Well, they were calling it a mission – really it was a long overdue romantic vacation for the pair. In fact, the only full-time Avengers compound residents present were Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Taryn. Even Tony and Rhodey were out of the compound. The one was with Pepper and the other had been summoned back to his current, “technical” duty station. They were eerily alone in the residential portion of the facility.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky finally eased himself out of bed. It was later in the morning than normal for him to get up but between his heightened anxiety and some veritable horse tranquilizers the night before – thank you Doctor Cho – he’d slept heavier than normal. Even Taryn’s getting up earlier in the morning hadn’t roused him. It was novel, unsettling, but novel.

He headed for the communal area – the kitchen, living, and dining areas. It included a view of the game room with its shattered pool table – wait a minute. He stopped, frozen between the adrenaline dump and the panic that started at the edge of his awareness. Sam was battered and bloody under the splinters that had been the game, even from here he could see the other Avenger breathing. That was a relief.

“FRIDAY,” Bucky called out, regaining control of his senses and bolting towards his often antagonistic friend. Nothing. The AI was silent. Even better.

--

Down in the pool, Taryn pulled herself up onto the deck. “Hey, FRIDAY is –“ she was cut off by the sound of heavy metal shutters sliding closed over the  wall of windows facing the woods. “What the hell.” The pool room was all but pitch black.

The AI’s voice echoed across the wing with pool, “Siege protocols activated.”

“Well shit,” she spat, grabbing her towel and water shoes from the bleachers and taking off at a run.

--

When the shutters came down, the blonde didn’t wait for any response from FRIDAY. He’d helped Tony build the siege protocols. The base-side response to Ultron. In case any of the team went rogue it was meant to keep them contained in the building and easier for them to deal with. That said, it required the express authorization of an Avenger and the only people present were Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Taryn.

As he raced down the hallway towards the stairs, Steve didn’t register the fire control doors slamming shut until he nearly crashed into one. “Well this is just dandy,” he grumbled.

These doors were meant to contain Thor. They’d given up on Hulk-proofing anything.

--

“Siege protocols activated”

He heard the flicker of static over the main screen in the media room as he knelt beside Sam, checking for anything worse than a probable concussion. Looking up, he saw on split screen, Taryn and Steve racing down different halls from the training areas of the building. By the looks of things the blond had been in the weight room and the brunette in the pool. Then he saw the heavy fire suppression doors slam shut on either side of them.  Both were trapped on the same floor.

“The fuck,” he snapped, slowly pulling Sam up so the other man was half draped over Bucky’s shoulders. Moving slowly he got him over and onto the big couch across from the TV and scanned the room. No one. There was no one else in the room. Or on the floor for that matter. Not as far as he could tell. But the knot in his stomach and the jolt that ran up his spine told Bucky otherwise- someone was there.

They had to be.

Even with the lights on, the room was dark once the shutters closed completely.  “Well this terrible,” he muttered, taking another look at Sam as he backed towards the kitchen. Improvised weapons 101 – fire and blades. Or not. There was a crunch of someone stepping broken wood in the game room and Bucky moved. He grabbed the French Press and  threw a fistful of wet coffee grounds at the noise. It splattered, leaving a smudge about chest high.

Then the laughter.

“<Brother>,” Arkady’s voice was like a knife, it didn’t matter that he used Russian to address Bucky. The older man wanted to be ill as his would-be successor seemed to materialize into place. “<Stark made a smaller version of that camouflage tech SHIELD uses on some of the planes. Figured I would...mmm... borrow it>,” he sneered. Of course he didn’t want anyone but Bucky to understand what he was saying. There was still something off in the other man’s speech pattern, like he wasn’t himself. Or he’d finally crested the hill from dogged focus to obsession.

Swallowing, the brunette, backed up to the knife block on the opposite counter. “This is your one chance to walk away kid,” he said, hand finding the chef knife. Stark could have a fit later. It wasn’t his combat knife but it would suffice; considering the number of times he’d see Taryn or Wanda nearly take off a finger slicing something.  All he had to do was buy time for Steve or Taryn to get out of their respective hallways and  up to the main living area. In theory.

Arkady was grinning, ear to ear. It accentuated some of the scars from the surgeries to repair his spine. “<Oh, this,>” he said, motioning to the longest scar. What Bucky could see of it came up over the back of his head and stopped shy of Arkady’s ear. “<You’re good brother, but I’m better. You crushed part of my spine, broke several vertebrae, even cracked a portion of my skull. They had to replace so much.>” His chuckles made Bucky’s skin crawl.

Watching his old mentor’s eyes flicker to the screen behind him, Arkady smiled.

Cap and Taryn were both still in their respective sections of corridor. The blonde inspecting the doors, looking for a weak spot. The woman, however, sat against the wall – legs folded underneath her. “<Mmm…you don’t have to worry about them brother, I’ll take excellent care of your friends there,>” he said, a strange mix of elation and calm oozing through the other man’s words. “<It’s the last you’ll see of them, these images,>” he added, running a hand through his black-brown crew cut as the screen clicked off. Only blackness stared back at them now.

“What do you want,” Bucky said, gripping the handle of the kitchen knife. What he wouldn’t give for his rifle.

Taking aim at the other man, Arkady sneered, switching back to English, “For your to feel every moment of pain and shame that I did.”

--

What the security cameras hadn’t and couldn’t pick up was Steve punching every access and command code he could think of into the key console by the doors until one worked. Finally the fire control doors slid open and a sickening scream of metal and concrete reached his ears. Immediately he flatted against the wall.

The doors directly across from him were practically wrenched out of their wells. “You okay,” He called to Taryn, she was a few hundred feet down the hall on her knees. She flashed a thumbs up, head bowed and visibly breathing heavily.

She shouted breathily, “You go on! I’m gonna see about this damn siege mode!” He made a note to tell Tony that it was definitely not Taryn proof. Which meant it also wasn’t Wanda proof, let alone Thor proof.  

“You’ll be okay,” he asked again.

Nodding, the brunette waved him on. Shattering a set of blast doors meant to keep Thor in had taken more out of her than anticipated. More than the power she could usually channel to overload someone’s nervous system. What she didn’t say to Cap, and Bucky would scold her for later, was that everything hurt after using that much power. Steve disappeared around the corner and Taryn vomited as she stood up. “Oh my god today sucks,” she grumbled, wiping her mouth.

[solomonfiore]

A Night in Kyiv

“I’m an angel who was attending a school of Satan.”

Anatoly Onoprienko

We have broken our way into an abandoned tenement in the slums of Kyiv. Piles of trash are scattered about recklessly. A black pentagram has been spraypainted on the wall. We mark all the squats we occupy this way as a tribute to Beelzebub. The wallet I stole from the old man I stabbed to death in the park earlier that evening has enabled us to spend a little extra money on drugs. A hypodermic needle filled with high-grade heroin sits next to a piss-stained mattress lying on the floor. I stole some vodka from the market on the way back from the Peste Noir concert. Most of the bottle has been finished. We're thoroughly drunk by now. You can't wait to make love. You're already lying back against the side of the mattress with your skirt hiked up over your pale, young legs. Our skin has yet to become leathery and peel away from our bones like it has to a lot of our friends who are addicts, though my track marks are becoming blacker and blacker—the chronic nature of my abuse growing impossible to ignore. I'm grateful that I was able to cop some decent drugs for a change. Due to the grinding poverty we are forced to endure on a daily basis, we often have to use a substance that is less potent and far more toxic than heroin to keep from getting sick. Were it not for the deplorable conditions of our environment we would not have to inject this garbage known as desomorphine. We are smarter than this! We are better than this! But the hopelessness of our situation keeps us down. We cannot raise our voice to our oppressors for fear of reprisal.

After having suppressed my rage throughout my adolescence, I found solace in Satanism. Huysmans once stated that Satanists are no more than disappointed Christians. Well, I am disappointed. Not only in Christ, but in the entire world. I am disappointed with the U.S. and globalization's fallout. I am tired of being caught in the middle of a tug-of-war between Poland and Russia like a helpless child growing up in a dysfunctional household. Centuries of oppression boil inside me, but I’m not allowed to scream. I must suppress this fury.

I’m getting sick. I feel weak. Tingling sensations radiate down over my shoulders, emptying out into my legs.

You want to make love, but I tell you we must shoot up first.

You have only been using needles for a week. You were twelve when you became my lover. Now you are thirteen. Your arms are as white as a Calla lily drenched in a gauze of mist. They show no trace of abuse. You’re still inexperienced and squeamish so I have to inject you myself.

Everything unfolds before us in black and white as if we were actors in a film. Our favorite scene gets played back over and over again unto eternity. I hear your breath in my ear while I find a tender, blue vein under the light of the moon. The plunger descends beneath my thumb and memories of our love are pushed back into my mind…

You were lost when I met you. The drowning ghost of Ophelia lived inside you. And your emerald eyes climbed out of the black waters of your long hair to cling to me for dear life. I introduced you to the Devil and you embraced His power wholeheartedly. I took sadistic pleasure in seeing what heresies you were willing to commit in His name. We vandalized and burned churches together when I wasn't introducing you to the lowliest depths of sexual degradation. But as our fascination with the occult grew into an obsession, it became apparent that we had both become equally enmeshed within a web of inescapable evil. Murder became more than just a means of fueling our habit. It became a mainstay.

We left a string of killings behind us. We talked about them for hours together, recalling certain details about the incidents that one of us may have missed in the heat of the slaughter. For instance, you were particularly interested in what our victims were wearing. Whether it was the diamond brooch we pilfered from your aunt after clubbing her to death in the schoolyard or the ring I had slid from off the finger of a dismembered hand seconds before proposing to you under a sanguine moon, you always had an eye for accoutrement. You remembered the pattern of the knickers that the street vendor from Andriyivskyy Descent wore when we stripped him down at the abandoned factory and forced him to drink drain cleaner, putting cigarettes out on his chest as he ingested the toxic concoction. After removing a pauper's private parts with a box cutter and feeding them to his dog, you kept its collar, not only as a memento, but to wear around your own neck as a fashion statement. You always had a strong sense for aesthetics.

What fascinated me was how some of our victims would assume an entirely passive stance once they came to the realization that their death was inevitable while others would scream like bloody hell until their very last breath. A trucker we ambushed on Hertsena Street was surprisingly resigned after I had slit his throat. Having worked at a slaughterhouse, I knew it took considerable time for a pig to die after this. Instead of panicking or trying to escape, he just lay there in the brush beside us, surrounded by tall stalks of hazel grass as a burbling fountain of maroon viscera bubbled out of his mouth. Watching the individual suffer is half the entertainment when committing a homicide. He wasn't animated enough so I stabbed him in the eyes with his own house keys hoping that would jolt him into action, but he hardly flinched. We took turns carving upside down crosses into the fat of his thighs but he nary moved an inch. On the other hand, a young woman and her five-year-old daughter would prove to be quite the handful. Not the daughter. The daughter behaved in much the same fashion as the old man, though I only know this from what you’ve told me. I was busy with Mother Goose. She sure squawked like one. Enough for me to have to stuff her mouth up with my own sock while gutting her. After considering these psychological phenomena, I asked you whether or not you intended to die softly or put up a fight.

Your purple lips curved into a serene smile. Lightly dusted with pollen from an upturned window box of chrysanthemums nearby, your cheeks betrayed an ever so slight blush of excitement. Bearing the tenderness of a kitten and the immaculate aura of a cherub, you answered thus:

“If it is for my Master, the Great Spirit Lucifer, I shall approach my grave with open arms. He has assured me during His visits that we will have a place beside Him at the foot of His throne so long as we have done His bidding on the material plane. The violence of our passion burns with a flame intense enough to carry us into the netherworld where we will rejoice together in love everlasting."

The Gods of the Pit must have been watching out for us. For we had successfully taken out almost a dozen people without a trace of the law in sight. But the season of our good fortune would abruptly change one afternoon.

We had been terrorizing a homeless woman in a field just outside of Puscha-Vodytsia. Cold drizzle pelted us as I smashed her head in with a shovel. Amping up the bludgeoning to a hyperbolic frequency, you, my ashen-haired accomplice, whipped her with the branch of a tree. In beige, mercurial gobs, the three of our shadows fused to create a single form projected onto the shivering walls of grass around us. The ghostly reflection of our struggle wavered in the wind. She whimpered and drooled as her brains spilled out of the top of her cracked skull with the same disorder as the tentacles of a freshly beached squid. On a trail less than a yard away, a little boy happened to be riding his bicycle. I knew he recognized you as the missing girl in the papers because he stopped momentarily to get a better look at the scene. I tried to catch him but he sped away.

Now we are on the run, hiding out in the slums of the Ukraine.

Your beauty shines through the gray pall of the room. You excite me beyond measure despite the potency of the heroin. I'm no longer paralyzed by the grinding stress of being hunted amidst a country about to go to war when I’m entering the clean, silky haven of your insides. It seems I could live off your spit and your fluids forever when we are bound together physically. I see the look in your pleading eyes and know what you want me to do. I wrap my hands around your throat and start to squeeze. It’s hard for me to stay focused on making love to you while I'm choking you, but I do it because you’ve come to love it so much. I derive no pleasure from this. I have to be careful not to deface your fragile skin or use too much pressure while at the same time maintaining my own level of arousal. This is difficult for me, particularly when I'm high. I do this strictly for you.

You’ve told me you’ve experienced visions of the Beast while being throttled and tonight something wondrous happens. Lucifer comes to visit, not just you, but both of us while our bodies are entwined together in that squalid lair. Inky jets of smoke climb out from the back of your head as you speak in tongues entirely foreign to this world. Sweaty bundles of pale yellow and green fungi growing on the far wall behind us swell to life. An oozing globule of sulfuric vapors congeals to form a static cloud in the shape of the Horned God. He stands over us, calling upon us to express our devotion to Him through the throes of our lust as we writhe about the floor in throes of illicit rapture. Your face begins to twitch as I apply extra pressure to your platysma muscle, clenching my teeth together so tightly they threaten to pierce the insides of my mouth. Your throat—so pure and white that it never so much as reveals the horizontal stress lines that all of us possess from infancy on—is now wreathed in blue and purple corals of broken blood vessels as ecchymosis sets in from vagal inhibition and the increased strain against your hyoid bone. Your hypoxic climax is a sea of convulsions squirming in my clenched fists. Milky clouds fill up the green domes of your eyes and a tear of black blood runs down your left cheek as my darkness empties into you, blotting out what little you still possessed of your purity like an oil spill spreading out from the center of a crystalline pond.

I collapse on top of you, resting my head atop the thin plate of your solar plexus. You’re coughing violently. You pull yourself out from beneath me. I lift myself up and watch you in silence as you gasp for air while clutching your throat. At first I’m worried I’ve gone too far this time, but you flash me a faint smile to assure me you’re okay once your composure’s regained. I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t disappointed Lucifer by denying Him the sacrifice we’ll be offering Him when we execute the joint suicide pact we planned for tomorrow on Walpurgisnacht.

"Regie Satanas," I mumble under my breath.

Solomon Fiore - March 18, 2017

<photos: Aleksandra Petrova>

Special thanks to Aleksandra Petrova of the Kitsune Klan.

[republicstandard]

Toxic Avengers: The Return of Aspirational Masculinity

“There are some things I have to do that you don’t understand. You understand wine and literature and movies . . . but you don’t understand my plight.”-Jack from Sideways (2004)

Did anyone expect, when we were hurtling toward Y2K and the late Senator Ted Stevens’s pneumatic tube-powered Information Super Highway that we would be discussing “trans women’s periods”? Instead of colonizing Mars, as the Soviet general in The Camp of the Saints lamented between sips of vodka: “We’re caught in the clutches of the great hermaphrodite, Zackaroff. We’re all its serfs. And we can’t even cut off its balls!” Yes, the neo-liberal project has given our civilization opioids and anti-depressants and a steady diet of appointments with the local psychoanalyst; it’s blessed us with hormone blockers for prepubescent children and demon-drag-queen story time and soon IUDs for first-graders. Lothrop Stoddard’s Revolt Against Civilization is in full swing:

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Congenitally incapable of adjusting themselves to an advanced social order, the degenerate inevitably become its enemies—particularly those “high-grade defectives” who are the natural fomenters of social unrest. Of course, the environmentalist argues that social unrest is due to bad social conditions, but when we go into the matter more deeply we find that bad conditions are largely due to bad people. The mere presence of hordes of low-grade men and women condemned by their very natures to incompetency and failure automatically engender poverty, invite exploitation, and drag down others just above them in the social scale.

Such inequities can only be compounded by the ever-growing throngs of maladjusted and violent Third Worlders who are mostly unable and/or unwilling to adapt to the rigors of success in the West. The victim mentality creates a power vacuum that will inevitably be filled by a more self-assured group or groups; thus assuring our conquest at the hands of the Equatorials, the West will have been reduced to nothing but a bunch of ill-adjusted, genderless, species-less, trans-abled amorphous blobs incapable of lifting a finger in self-defense. Otherwise, and perhaps a more likely outcome, in these conditions of fractured tribalism the country will require the installation of a ruthlessly totalitarian government headed and staffed, of course, by the managerial “elites”—and for the few hold-outs, as Frank Carter sang on Gallows’s “The Vulture”: “If the horses won’t drink, drown them in the water.”

https://youtu.be/nNLjx1EJp-c

This idea that it’s all men, or that it’s “toxic masculinity” that is the root cause of violence in our society is preposterous. It’s pretty simple, really—despite their supposed aversion to generalities and stereotypes, the Left finds itself unable to perform even a rudimentary analysis of the perpetrators of violence. The black share of homicides nationally has actually increased while their population share remains relatively static, and of course the vast majority of those homicides are committed by black males. This simple instance of a legitimate “toxic masculinity” is not a possible explanation, however, “because racism.” Therefore, the Left twists itself in ever-more absurd contortions to explain really rather simple biological explanations (another example is the “gender pay gap”).

We know that, on average, black children hit puberty first and Asian children last, which may have something to do with the advanced physical development of many blacks, which is particularly pronounced in the teen years relative to, say, whites or Asians. The ramifications in terms of brain development and verbal acuity and spatial reasoning remain somewhat less known, but we can draw inferences based on the available science. Ignoring fundamental differences between people, not to mention the wealth of quantifiable data that show strong correlations between specific behaviors and outcomes, is not going to lessen our problems. It’s going to make them worse—as we’re witnessing.

These “debates” are absolutely drenched in Leftist moralism, to the point where even pointing out well-established science is cause for professional and social termination. Rather than bending over backwards to find “hate crimes” and “systemic racism” to explain away black underachievement, would not a consideration of cognitive difference liberate the whole nation from this ceaseless pearl-clutching? There is no white conspiracy to marginalize blacks (at least none that I’m aware of), but there are evolved differences in intelligence that exacerbate group differences in an increasingly cognitively-intensive economy. These difference are no one’s fault but Mother Nature’s, unless of course the actual mother made poor in utero or child-rearing decisions (for example, black mothers are thirty times more likely than white mothers to give birth to a child with fetal alcohol syndrome, and are much more likely to use corporal punishment on their children, which is proven to affect cognitive development). Nevertheless, Leftist dogma renders an honest discussion impossible.

Haiti has been an independent country longer than Canada, New Zealand, Australia, or Ireland —all four were products of colonialism— and they have turned out just a little different, I would say. The United States has only been independent a couple of decades longer than Haiti. Do you want to keep on blaming colonialism? How about Ethiopia, which minus five years has been an independent nation for millennia? We have been conditioned to accept equality of outcome when the biological inputs are so wildly divergent. This is patently absurd. As all populations increasingly have access to the same technologies, amenities, and advancements as everyone else, and the global economy becomes more cognitively-intensive, with an honest appraisal we can only expect the disparity in outcome between humanity’s haves and have-nots to widen ever-further without a full-bodied globalist tyranny.

Likewise, in the interests of furthering what’s mutated into the paradox that is modern feminism’s prudish Epicureanism —indeed in erasing the distinctions between man and woman by un-coupling gender from sex, which sort of defeats the purpose of feminism— the most appalling manifestations of totalitarianism are necessary to force the supremely unnatural, in the process destroying both masculinity and femininity by turning each sex into a shitty facsimile of the other and never the twain shall meet. Or is it the opposite, a melding of pregnant men and combat-ready women into the Androgynes of the Future? It’s impossible to tell as the Left is so confused and contradictory, lacking any semblance of a coherent worldview beyond defining itself against what Western civilization stands for, with the Monstrous White Male at its epicenter.

In my TACB piece “Cow Shit on the Grecian Urn,” I relayed the following, which is to my mind emblematic of the world-conquering spirit of a healthy Western Man:

In 1865, on his eighth try, Englishman Edward Whymper climbed the Matterhorn with nothing but a small flask of tea and a ham sandwich. That same year Trollope, Zola, and Dostoevsky published new works of fiction and in the six years on either end, the internal combustion engine, plastic, the bicycle, the typewriter, air brakes, the subway, traffic lights, and dynamite were invented, all by Europeans of course. Western greatness and the Faustian spirit have been driving human progress for seven hundred uninterrupted years (and intermittently for millennia); the British Empire brought English common law to the far corners of the globe and the Americans built on this tradition to create the still-unsurpassed masterpiece of self-governance in the Constitution. The Scientific and Industrial Revolutions and capitalism re-shaped the world as we know it (though admittedly in the latter two cases not always for the better, but this is a discussion for another time).

An America unconcerned with “diversity” invented flight and sixty-six years later was on the moon. Competence is clearly no longer on the agenda in this new landscape of “equality”: Blacks are nearly four times as likely as Asians and nearly three times as likely as whites to be accepted to medical school with identical MCAT scores and GPAs. Why would this be necessary if all people were “equal”?

What great monuments do people go to Africa to see? Outside of Roman ruins and the remnants of the tremendously advanced ancient Egyptian civilization, a group with far more genetic similarity to modern Europeans than to the nation’s present Arabic occupants (minus the Coptics who are the genuine genetic descendants of the ancient Egyptians and thus the only true Egyptians), there’s virtually nothing.

This is to say that there are real and realized differences between groups of people and pretending they don’t exist is, in the present climate of mass immigration and the willful ceding of power in places like Rhodesia and South Africa, suicidal. Per Henk van de Graaf: “The farmers live in fear, because being a farmer in South Africa is the most dangerous occupation in the world. The average murder ratio per 100,000 for the population in the world is nine, I believe. In South Africa, it is 54. But for the farming community it is 138, which is the highest for any occupation in the world” (Chicago is 28 per 100,000 and St. Louis is 35.3 per 100,000 residents as a point of reference). Whites are less than 9% of the South African population but are 40% of all murder victims. South Africa has a 95 percent black-on-white murder rate and the world’s highest rape rate. There are government-sanctioned policies to seize land from white farmers and re-distribute it to markedly less productive blacks. As Ilana Mercer so poignantly warned us in Into the Cannibal’s Pot, this is the future for America (and the rest of the Western world) should it continue down this suicidal path.

The multi-culti-feminist-relativist goop eagerly sucked down by the Left’s useful idiots is stripping Westerners of all of their natural defense mechanisms. Blair Cottrell neatly summed up the Left’s multi-front war —race, class, biological sex, civilizational— in one brilliant tweet:

Feminism: >Invite masses of foreign men into your country who religiously believe that women should be kept as sex slaves & killed for wearing skirts. >Vilify & ostracise your last actual line of defence against those men: The working men of your own country. 👏🏻

— Blair Cottrell 🇦🇺 (@blaircottrell89) July 11, 2018

Women like sociologist Lisa Wade are too preoccupied with President Trump’s “carpe pussy” comments from over a decade ago to understand that the immigration restrictions/overhaul he and the majority of Americans support would stop immigrants and “refugees” from intractably misogynistic cultures from coming here and bringing their regressive attitudes toward women as chattel, barbaric practices such as female genital mutilation and honor killings, and a lack of restraint from sexually assaulting women either through non-existent impulse control or cultural entitlement. Wade and others of her ilk believe that the male ego is the most repressive force on the planet, and that President Trump is its manifestation. I agree, a mis-applied male ego is the most repressive force on the planet, but it’s not manifested in President Trump, it’s manifested in the Left’s Third World bedfellows, especially Muslims. Furthermore (as I chronicle here), these cultures—including the black and Hispanic sub-cultures in America—are downright hostile toward the LGBTQ-AEIOU agenda; open borders means an end to their delicate little “boutique identities” as Mark Steyn calls them. Hell, it means the complete erasure of women’s rights, and as the biologically more egalitarian-minded whites have always viewed our women as both far more precious and, if it may be said, equal, a population sea-change will have Wade and co. in burqas or body-bags, not bitching about white men in the Huffington Post.

What passes for female empowerment these days is merely the creation and perpetuation of a set of conditions to create more disposable income and thus more consumers. As Henry Wolff says, “White women refusing to have children have instead channeled their maternal instincts into the Third World,” which reflects the feminization and effete sentimentality of what passes for “politics” in the West. The etymology of the word “politics” is derived from the Greek polis, or city, which has been used in various permutations to refer to the people of a city or state, or else to reflect the state as considered in its ideal form philosophically. Thus, politics is the governance of the people of that state, for the benefit of that state. It is meant to be a reflection of its people, not of its finance sector or whatever Israel decides its policies should be.

To expand on the red pill metaphor, it is not just an awakening from The Matrix, but the choice between red and blue pill also corresponds nicely with the Republican-Democrat split. Further, red evokes the notion of a common heritage or “shared blood,” the bonds of which, indeed, are thicker than water (typically colored or referred to as blue). Now granted the Republican establishment has been no paragon of actual conservatism in decades, but with the non-white voting share of the Democrat Party at 44% and rising, and as their white leaders are first marginalized and then purged, it is clear that the “blue wave” is that which would drown the Historic American Nation, from its nakedly Marxist policies to its support for the demographic tidal wave of non-Europeans.

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The “red,” our republic’s life-blood, dries up without its founding people. The ultimate demise of the founding Roman noble families roughly corresponds to the time Caracalla extended full citizenship rights to the entire empire. “Democracy in action,” we might say, but without an aspirational core of true Roman families on which the empire could rest, the decline was not long after, for what is a Rome without Romans? Further, in the absence of expansion, the momentum of the empire ground to a halt, and its focus turned inward, both in conflict and in navel-gazing hedonism. This is not to suggest that the key to reviving the American nation is through resuscitating “54 40 or Fight,” but that after planting our flag on the moon we wasted trillions of dollars and decades of energy on “equality” and dragged (or in the case of Afghanistan and the Middle East are dragging) our military through morass after morass instead of securing the border and re-directing our eyes back to the heavens. This aspirational masculinity is at the heart of Western civilization and it drives our conquering spirit both literally and metaphorically.

It is time we stopped cowering before inferior cultures and entitled parasites and re-assert what makes us the most spectacular civilization in human history. “Man up,” indeed: there is a very powerful message here, one which we would be wise to heed.

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