#Sorry for mentioning Hitler

[a-a-a-anon]

another rik and ade multiverse tie in headcanon: in 'contest' when eddie says his choices are either apologize to richie or it's nasty linda's (shudder), nasty linda is eddie's sister, who is vyvyan's mom, and who eddie used to stay with until he learned he could mooch off live with richie rent free. and she was nasty because her drinking was on-par with eddie's and she would snatch his drinks up/fight him for any drinks left in the house (so much easier for eddie to have the drinks to himself after moving away bc richie can barely handle a sip of alcohol.) plus her son was a brat who would do things like fill the pint glasses he left lying around with drinks that'd make his hair fall out

also, there's a trend of men with "girl's" names in the family... vyvyan, eddie's middle name elizabeth, eddie's great uncle susan...

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

i tried to pick the ones whose queerness is most explicit/implicit but there are other queer-coded peter characters obv 😊.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Hey, can you explain to me like I’m 12 what Vivzie did irl? I’ve seen a lot of allegations and refutations to said allegations that make me confused as to what is actually happening or what ppl are angry at since I’m not really in either hh or helluva boss fandoms? Sorry if this is weird or annoying and feel free not to answer if you don’t want to

Hello! I put a lot of things vivzie has done in my critical posts so you can look at my long character post analysis things if you want more in depth things, but let me try to make this as digestible as possible. And of course I can’t list everything theres way too much but I’ll do what I can.

1. Defended her story board artist (Raph) with a rape fetish who uses Angel Dust to fuel said rape fetish. If you do not believe me (anyone reading this) Raph also made a fan animation to the song Valentino which was ORIGINALLY a somg about Vox being abused as well as Angel. Raph removed the aspect of Vox being abused and changed it to where Vox jerks off to Angel getting raped. This is still the same person Vivzie actively considers a friend a wonderful employee. And before anyone says it. No. “They’re coping” isn’t an excuse.

2. Vivzie retweets Angel x Valentino fanart

3. Vivzie was discovered to have a public YouTube playlist labeled “favorites” that included videos that involved women being sexually assaulted. Whether these were skits or real, I dont care and its disgusting either way.

4. Drew a Hitler “Sausage Party” OC. This was a while ago but worth mentioning

5. Does not pay her employees fairly.

6. Shit talks other indie artists and show runners constantly.

7. Demonising “voodoo” (vodou) by making it a “scary evil” magic Alastor used and then tried to excuse it by saying Alastor is black.

There’s much more competent people with screenshots and such on here if you want to look these up for more information! Id suggest staying out and away from hh/hb if possible so seems like you’re doing well. Hopefully this helps!

[edenfenixblogs]

Hello, as a non-Jewish person I have read Night because of your posts. I am not very good at articulating my thoughts, and if anything I say brings up questions for you I will try and answer them. The beginning where there is a sense of hope, is so awful because it just constantly gets worse and worse. The worsening of the regulations while the people of his village tell themselves that it is not too bad, but it is terrible, right from the first limitation, and even before it, all the events that led to it.“German laborers were going to work. They would stop and look at us with no surprise” (100), “And the spectators observed those emancipated creatures ready to kill for a piece of bread”(101). This dehumanization, I wonder how did the German citizens live with it? This sentiment continues on to this day, and yet it is dismissed so easily. “I was sixteen” His relationship with his religion is hurt so much, this general feeling of hopelessness that other people around him also feel, “Just like Rabbi Eliahu’s son, I had not passed the test”. He feels such guilt, he tries so hard to help his father, even as he is starving himself.

While I read this book, sometimes I thought that whatever is happening in this book was not that bad. Sometimes they would get a thicker soup and that would make him happy. How awful is that? For this to be normal for him. For this to not be unusual to me. In the stories of the Holocaust that I have learned, these things are not unfamiliar, the starvation, the apathy of other civilians, the death marches. His story has been categorized in my mind as another set of terrible things that were done to a Jewish person during the Holocaust. His story, every single atrocity that was done to him, I can not imagine properly, yet I only feel an undefinable upset over what happened to him. I think there is something wrong with that? I have very recently discovered that I am, in fact, antisemitic, from your posts and someone else that also realized their antisemitism (which you pointed out), and am trying to outgrow it. I am concerned that my reaction to this book is greatly affected by antisemitism. I can’t tell, am I telling myself that his suffering was ok? Am I? In the book, there are often mentions of Jewish culture that I do not know of. For example, “Shavuot” and the New Year being in summertime. I understand that these are google-able questions, but I was wondering if you have resources for a general introduction into Jewish culture and history? I hope by learning more I can dismantle my antisemitism. If you know a better way to do so, I would appreciate if you could let me know! Thank you for the recommendation to read Night, I will read All But My Life next. I am sorry if my concern over my antisemitism reads as shallow, I do not know how else to express it.

Friend, I am SO PROUD OF YOU and SO GRATEFUL FOR YOU!!!!!

I have said repeatedly that all journeys begin somewhere. More people are antisemitic than are not antisemitic, because that’s how systemic oppression works. You have been taught to hate me.

I thank you for seeing our shared humanity and working to unlearn the harmful things you know.

1. How did the Germans live with the dehumanization? The same way people are living with the dehumanization of Jews now. German antisemitism was deeply tied to antisemitic concepts and tropes that long predated Hitler. These tropes and conspiracy theories had been floating around Europe for a very long time. Furthermore, they have never gone away. All the old tropes and conspiracy theories are resurfacing in the internet age, because the Holocaust only temporarily shamed antisemites, but not enough significant cultural shifts occurred to stop it from rising again.

2. “…sometimes I thought that whatever was happening was not that bad…” I think I see what you are saying. I don’t know your age or where you are from, so I’m not sure if you’ve ever dealt with these kinds of feelings before, let alone how to articulate them — or how to do so in English. But you seem to be horrified by what is happening but you also seem to feel guilt that you find moments of relief in the horrible times as well. I don’t think that makes you a bad person. I just think that makes you a person. The human mind is not built to comprehend trauma on the scale seen during The Holocaust. It instinctively tries to find moments of reprieve that prove things aren’t that bad. And, to be fair, Judaism applauds this. It is a very Jewish idea that we should always look for moments of joy even when our hearts are steeped in misery. Because life is joy. And it is sometimes impossible to wrap our minds around how joyless life can be, and often was for Jews during this time. But your instinct to recognize the impulse to say “well, this day/moment/experience wasn’t so bad” and correct yourself to say, “actually this is a horrific terrible thing that just wasn’t as bad as that other horrific terrible thing that just happened” instead is a good instinct. One of the reasons the Holocaust occurred was because both Jews and non-Jews gave in to this instinct to minimize suffering. Jews minimized our own suffering and clung to hope until it was too late too late to fight back successfully. From the moment we were told to register on lists and wear stars and get on trains, we all should have fought. We should have fought louder and more to condemn Hitler while he was on the rise and to shame those who would vote for him. But ultimately, we were still outnumbered terribly and nothing we did could have stopped the horrors that followed if non-Jews didn’t support us. Non-Jews, of course, bare the true guilt and responsibility for the Holocaust. They refused to question their own hatred. They turned a blind eye to the rising antisemitism. They abandoned their friends in need. They complied with hostile forces who threatened them in order to betray the Jews around them.

Your job as a non-Jew is to never repeat those mistakes. Never let an instance of antisemitism go unremarked on. Ever. And learn what antisemitism looks like. Refuse to ever let it exist or ignored in your presence.

Everyone likes to pretend they would do this, but very few ever do. The reality is that some people hate Jews so much, they will stop being your friend for defending us. And to be a good person, you have to be willing to let those people leave your life if they are unwilling to let go of their hate and learn to do better. The reality is that, at some point, you may very well be asked to choose to reject a friend for the sake of the safety of Jews you have never and will never meet. The good news is that this is not the case the majority of the time!

Most people want to consider themselves good people. And most people want the approval of their peer groups.

Your job is to steer the attitude of your peer group away from antisemitic thinking and toward peace and deconstruction of hateful systemic antisemitism—rather than allowing your peer group to steer you toward the comforting familiarity of Jew-hatred.

3. “…I have recently discovered that I am antisemitic…” I forgive you. As I said, most people are. I draw a distinction between someone who is antisemitic and someone who is an antisemite. You have harmful and negative opinions about Jews because of the systemic bigotry you have been surrounded by your whole life. But this hatred has not become your identity. You recognize this hatred as a part of you that must be discarded. Antisemitism is something you have, not something you are. And you are doing the right things to make sure you stop being antisemitic. This, to me, means you are not an antisemite. If you give up and stop caring about Jews and unlearning these harmful thought patterns, that would make you an antisemite. Because that would mean you are comfortable folding the antisemitism you possess into your identity and sense of self. It seems to me you do not wish to do this. And that means you’re growing and changing for the better. And that is beautiful.

4. “I am concerned that my reaction to this book is affected by antisemitism.” Yeah it probably is. But so is most people’s reaction to this book. That’s the point. Your being willing to confront that is what is important. It is about looking at the places where you lose empathy for Jews, asking yourself why, and then fixing the reason you find.

5. “Am I telling myself his suffering was ok?” I think you’re doing the opposite. I think you’re re-sensitizing yourself to something you were de-sensitized to. That is difficult and admirable.

6. Regarding Jewish culture:

6.a. “Shavuot” is a Jewish holiday. It is the anniversary of the day G-d gave the Torah to the Israelites. In general, a good way to familiarize yourself with stuff like this is to look for resources about Jewish holidays and what they mean. Hebcal offers short summaries of each Jewish holiday that you can import into your phone calendar and learn about as they happen. Wikipedia has a page about Jewish holidays that you can explore. So does the Jewish Virtual Library.

6.b. Jewish culture is vast and impossible to summarize simply. I would recommend starting with the Wikipedia Page on Jewish Culture and exploring whatever seems interesting to you. You’ll never learn it all and that’s ok! I’ve never met a Jew who knows it all either! We have so many subcultures all over the world shaped by unique experiences in diaspora. The most important thing to take away is that no matter how far apart we are or how differently we practice, we are all one people whose goal is to love our fellow humans and do our best to make the world a better place. This is called Tikkun Olam, which means repairing the world. This in itself is a huge concept. But it all relates to making the world better for one another.

I think you are doing a beautiful and amazing thing. And you, by choosing to remove hate from your mind and your actions, are actively making the world a better place. You are repairing some of the damage done by systemic antisemitism.

You are doing Tikkun Olam. And that, in every possible situation, is the best thing you can ever do. Thank you, @JellyMarbles

[humanpurposes]

Just for a Moment, part iv

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues, death, mourning/grief

Words: 8100

A/n: This acts as a final part and an epilogue. Also available to read on AO3.

In early June, Lois Bennett knocks on the Wheelans’ front door. She has tears in her bright blue eyes and her hands are shaking.

“It’s our Tom,” she says, when Kitty has sat her down at the kitchen table and made her a cup of strong tea. “He’s missing.”

A hole tears itself in her chest.

His ship had been part of the evacuation at Dunkirk– a triumph, so the headlines say. But that’s the way of the world, she thinks, men lay down their lives, others have their lives taken from them by force, and all the while the press and the politicians declare each one a step towards peace.

“You think Churchill and Hitler give a flying fuck about peace?” her father says one night as he nurses a glass of whisky. “They want victory.”

Every night as she lies in bed, she imagines some new possibility. Tom could have run to safety, sought refuge in the town or gone elsewhere. Maybe he’s just biding his time, maybe he’s on his way back to her.

He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

He promised he would come home to her.

Monday 2nd September, 1940

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the sirens, that blunt, whirring, wailing noise that sparks a primal fear in her chest. Somehow she always wakes up before they go off, like her instincts can alert her of what’s coming just a second before the noise begins.

The baby starts to scream from the space beside her– since Lois has started working as an ambulance driver, she leaves Vera with them most nights. With shaking hands, Kitty takes her into her arms, keeping her close to her chest as she fixes a woolly hat over her head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know,” she says, pulling the hat over Vera’s ears. She keeps meaning to buy some earmuffs for her, but then, it’s not her baby.

It’s pitch black in the house, it has to be. No lights or candles allowed unless you want the Germans to drop a bomb on your house. Kitty keeps one hand on the wall as she finds the stairs, and hurries down to the kitchen. Mam and dad’s footsteps follow behind her.

They have a routine by now. Dad grabs a coleman and a box of matches, mam grabs a photo from the front room and a basket with bread and blackberry jam, and Kitty holds tight to Vera. Then they file out the back door, into the garden, down the ladder into the shelter. Dad shuts the door, lights the lamp, and finally they can all see each other. 

Then comes the waiting. Some nights dad sings The Fields of Athenry and Kitty joins in. Vera seems to love singing, her eyes go wide and she lays completely still against Kitty, hypnotised by the humming in her chest. 

After a few slices of bread to keep them going, dad lies along the bench and closes his eyes and mam takes Vera into her arms. “Get some rest, love,” she tells Kitty.

How can she? Beyond the shelter the world is nothing but uncertainty, sirens sounding, bombs booming, spotlights and distant fires cutting through the darkness. Only the morning will tell what the true damage is, once the sun starts to rise and the smoke and dust have settled. Houses and livelihoods will be left as rubble. More lives lost, people who didn’t sign up, people who couldn’t, people who thought they might at least be safe in their own homes.

She looks at the photograph mam always brings in from the house. It’s of the four of them, Eddie, Art, Stevie and Kitty, lined up in the front room before the eldest two Wheelans left for the continent, over a year ago now. Eddie and Art look handsome in their uniforms and Stevie is uncharacteristically glum. He hated that he didn’t sign up sooner, he said he didn’t want to look like the one being left behind.

They all came home after Dunkirk, a few precious weeks when the world felt normal again.

Only not quite.

Because she still spent every night alone, and Tom Bennett was still gone.

“Where’s Douglas?”

Kitty snaps her attention to mam, as dad starts to stir on the bench.

“Eh?” he grumbles, “he’ll be along now in a minute, I’m sure.”

They wait. 

And keep waiting.

The bombs dropping on Longsight are louder than they’ve ever been before. Closer than they’ve ever been before. Each thunderous crash rocks the ground and the walls of their shelter.

BOOM– the roof trembles.

BOOM– dust and dirt fall from above them.

“We’ll be alright, here,” dad says, beckoning Kitty to sit between the two of them. 

They huddle together. Kitty curls her knees into her chest like a child and leans into her father’s embrace. Mam has Vera on her lap and places a hand on Kitty’s knee.

BOOM– mam whimpers and Vera is crying again. Dad holds her tighter.

BOOM– Kitty reaches for one of Vera’s tiny hands, and she clutches tightly onto her finger.

Then a final, earsplitting BOOM. The bench jolts beneath them. Kitty clings to her family and squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for something awful to happen.

Only it doesn’t. The bombs become fainter.

They slowly pull away from each other, looking each other in the eyes and nodding, to make sure they’re all alright– as much as they can be.

When the all clear sounds, they make their way back into the house.

Glass litters the floor of the front room. The windows are shattered, so is the glass cabinet with mam’s best china, photographs are cracked. Anything that isn’t broken has been blown back by the force of a hit.

Through the tatters of the curtains and a haze of smoke, a fire burns out on the street. 

Dad calls her name as she runs for the front door and yanks it open, but she can’t bring herself to step past the threshold.

The feels the heat against her face, as number 27 has been reduced to a pile of burning rubble.

The AFS arrives in time to stop dad from digging through the remains in search of Douglas himself.

Everything that belongs to the Bennetts is crushed under brick or goes up in flames. 

It’s like losing Tom all over again. The house where he grew up, the kitchen where Josie used to feed the Bennett and Wheelan kids ginger beer and sandwiches, the bedroom that smelled of cigarette smoke, where he told her he loved her, exist only as memories.

She doesn’t go to bed that night– there are only a few hours until daylight anyway. She sweeps up the glass in the front room and the bedrooms while dad boards up the window frames. Hardly any light reaches inside the house, the air is still thick and hazy with lingering smoke, so they keep the back door open. It airs the place out, but lets in the cold too.

When Kitty answers the door in the morning, Lois’ back is facing her. She’s still in her uniform with her hair in a neat bun and a helmet in her hand. 

“Lois?”

She turns towards Kitty with her lips slightly parted in a passive expression. “Dad’s gone,” she mutters. And once she says it the vacancy melts into grief. “He’s gone,” she cries, “everything’s gone!”

Kitty leads her into the house, but there’s nowhere comfortable to sit. The front room is in tatters and the kitchen is a mess with everything they’ve managed to salvage piled onto the table and chairs. 

“Tea?” Kitty asks quietly, but she feels stupid for asking.

Lois leans against the wall and holds her face in her hand as she cries.

Kitty unsurely places a hand on Lois’ shoulder and tries to think of something to say, but all she can think of is “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

First her mam, then Harry, then Tom, now her dad. She must feel like her life is slipping away.

Mam appears from upstairs, dressed for the factory with Vera in her arms.

Kitty frowns as she hands the baby to her. Lois has lost her father and her home in one night, and her mother hardly looks phased.

“There’s still work to be done, Kitty,” she says, grabbing her coat before she leaves through the front door with her head and shoulders straight.

But this is just war. Men die in trenches and on beaches, bombs fall on cities, tragedy unfolds and they Keep Calm and Carry On.

Kitty carries Vera into the kitchen, but she doesn’t like the sound of her mother crying. Her little face goes red and twists before she makes a sound, then she’s crying too, burying her head into Kitty’s chest and clinging to her arms with those small, pudgy hands.

Lois doesn’t look up, like she can’t hear her daughter crying at all.

Sunday 29th September, 1940

Weeks go by. Douglas is interred with his wife, in the churchyard of St Jospeh’s. Kitty spends her days in the shop and her nights in the shelter, rocking Vera through the air raids, humming lullabies and muttering stories about her brave mam and her fearless uncle Tom.

The Wheelans never used to go to church every week, but mam insists now, anything for their family to be kept safe. As they head home, Kitty looks up the hill, to the gravestone she knows is marked Josie Bennett. She pictures Tom and Lois standing by the graveside at the funeral, twelve years ago now. It doesn’t feel that long ago they were all children.

She walks ahead of her parents– dad’s been having trouble with his knees and it slows him down. Her head is hung, she’s staring at her shoes, the same black pair of shoes she wears everywhere.

What’s she got to walk so fast for anyway? Their house doesn’t feel much like a home anymore. They at least have the windows fixed, but she tends to keep her curtains drawn, because where she used to look out to Tom’s bedroom window, there’s just empty space. 

What’s the point in rushing home to a house that isn’t safe? That’s ghostly and quiet? That has a bomb shelter instead of a garden? What’s the point in carrying on when surviving the night is something they have to hope for? When each day brings a possibility that Eddie, Art or Steive could be missing or dead? What’s the point in clinging onto hope if Tom is truly gone? What’s the point? What’s the point? What’s the point?

Someone knocks frantically on one of the doors ahead, their door she realises. Her vision is blurry through tears, but she can make out the shape of a tall man, with dirty blond hair.

She blinks.

“Tom?”

His body collides into hers. He hugs her so tightly he crushes her chest but she doesn’t care. He could squeeze the life from her and she wouldn’t care, as long as she gets to hold him. Her hands find their way to grasp at his neck and his hair, pulling him closer and crying silently into his neck.

He doesn’t smell like cigarettes, which she finds unusual. He smells like dirt and sweat, and when he pulls away from her she realises he’s dressed in a khaki blazer, slacks that are too big for him and a mismatching grey shirt. 

“What happened–”

He looks frantic, stroking his hands over her hair and down to cup the sides of her face. “Kitty, I’m sorry, I know it’s been a mad few months but where are they, dad and Lois? Are they safe?”

He doesn’t know. How could he? Lois tried to send a letter. Where would it be now? Collecting dust or sitting at the bottom of a pile of unimportant paperwork in a naval office because there was nowhere for it to go. 

Her eyes well with tears all over again. His face is leaner, the lines of his jaw and cheeks more defined, the left side of his face littered with bruises and scars. She traces her fingers over his cheekbone, and down to the coarse, blond stubble along his jaw.

“Kitty,” he says, shortly, taking her hand away from his face. “Kitty, where are they? Tell me they’re okay.”

She glances over her shoulder. Mam and dad are approaching them now. Their faces mirror each other, confused, horrified, sympathetic.

“Come on,” she mutters, taking Tom’s hand and dragging him with her as she walks solemnly up Slade Grove. 

They stayed joined at the hip as they walk, Kitty curling slightly into his arm, their legs brushing with every stride, bumping into each other and pulling themselves back in.

His hand is warm and his grip is firm, but she can’t stop herself from shivering. As much as she wants to gaze up at him, melt into his embrace again, kiss every inch of his face, she can’t help but feel guilty. He doesn’t ask any more questions, or so much as speak a word, but the concern is written all over him, the clenched jaw and the stiff shoulders that don’t sway as he walks. 

She won’t be the one to tell him, she can’t be.

Lois has been living in a boarding house with Connie since the bomb hit. Mam had offered her a place at their house, but Lois wouldn’t take it. Luckily the house isn’t too far away, and when Lois opens the door, she’s utterly stunned.

Kitty waits outside, with her hands behind her back, leaning against the brick wall. Now her hands and her skin feel cold, so she tugs at her coat, keeping it tight around her body to keep out the autumn chill.

For a few moments she wonders if she hasn’t just made the whole thing up; Tom, waiting outside her door, running into her arms and vanishing again. She rubs her fingertips together. She had felt him as she feels her own skin now, she’s sure of it, the scars, the stubble, the hair on the back of his hand. 

Tom Bennett, her Tom Bennett, though not quite the same man he was, before whatever happened at Dunkirk, before the war, when his place in her life was vague but at least it was consistent. She knows things will be different again when he comes out of that house.

She hears raised voices through the door, the unmistakable, raspy bass of Tom’s anger. Lois shouts back. Then it goes quiet again.

Her heart leaps out of her chest when the door swings open. Tom slams it shut and turns his head around, frantically, before his eyes find her.

He opens his arms and falls into her. 

He lets out a few short gasps for breath as he leans his forehead against her shoulder and wraps his arms tightly around her waist. 

She stays like that for as long as he needs, until he pulls back for breath. His face is red, it only makes his eyes seem brighter.

“Sorry,” he mutters with a sniff, “haven’t even said a proper ‘hello’ to you yet.”

Given the circumstances, she thinks that’s forgivable. She runs her hands over the sides of his face, his ears and his overgrown mop of hair. 

“Hello,” she says.

Tom smiles, taking one of her hands in hiss and placing a peck to her knuckles. “Hello.”

They walk slowly back to Slade Grove. Tom is a little more subdued, but not quite settled.

She can only imagine the thoughts racing through his head. He wasn’t here to save his father, he wasn’t at the funeral, there was nothing he could save from his own home. Time has slipped by, the formalities have been carried out and Tom couldn’t have stopped any of it from happening. 

Mam opens the door, takes one look at Tom, and purses her lips.

Kitty rolls her eyes and pulls Tom into the hallway.

The house has been cleared up a little better recently. They’ve gotten rid of everything that was broken, mended the curtains and the tears in the sofas, only the front room feels empty and impersonal without the china cabinet and the photographs they couldn’t save. 

They walk on through to the kitchen, where dad is sitting by the wireless. He stands to take Tom’s hand. “Sorry for your loss, lad,” he says, giving it a short, firm shake.

“Cheers,” Tom mutters, “good to see you again, Mr Wheelan.”

Kitty makes tea and splits her rations of bacon and eggs between her and Tom. 

“We were part of the evacuation effort from Dunkirk,” Tom explains, looking up to Kitty as she sits beside him. “I don’t remember much, but I woke up in a hospital in Paris, bullets and shrapnel in my chest, and the doctors were telling me the Nazis had taken the city.”

“Bloody hell,” dad sighs.

Mam sits stiffly in her chair and sips her tea.

“They were telling me I had to register as a prisoner of war, but there was this American bloke, a doctor, he told me they were trying out an escape route through Gibraltar.”

“We thought you were dead,” Kitty says. “Lois showed us the telegram. We all thought you were dead.”

She can see Tom’s hand flinch as if to reach out to her, but he stops himself and clenches his fist. He turns back to her parents across the table. “I had to die, officially like, they had some spare bodies and put my name to some poor bastard with 80% burns–”

Mam clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Tom says, trying not to smile. “Had to walk to Spain, then hitched a ride with these two blokes to Gibraltar. Onto Plymouth from there, and then…” he trails off. He has a distant look in his eyes that reminds her of Lois.

“Home?” dad says.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, ‘spose so.”

“Will you stay with Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom gives her a pointed look.

The raised voices, the slammed door. Maybe not.

“You could stay with us,” she says.

Mam tilts her head. “Now wait a moment–”

“Of course,” dad says, “we’ve got three empty beds upstairs, I’m sure we’ll be able to spare one.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Tom says, slipping his hand under the table and brushing his fingers over Kitty’s knee. She checks her parents aren’t looking at her and tries not to smile.

Dad holds up his hand in the way that means his decision is final. “Not at all, lad. We’ve known you since you were a childer, I think it’s the least we could do for you now.” 

Lois drops Vera off at 5 o’clock, the usual time. She doesn’t ask about Tom, in fact she hardly looks Kitty in the eye as she hands the baby into her arms and places a bag by her feet. She presses a quick kiss to Vera’s head, and then she’s gone.

Tom is in the front room, splayed out on one of the sofas, flicking an unlit cigarette through his fingers– because if he smoked in the house, mam would actually kill him. He sits up when Kitty walks in with the baby on her hip.

She sits beside him and places Vera on her lap.

Tom takes one of her little hands, and his thumb is almost the size of her palm. “Can’t believe she named the kid after my fucking canary,” he grumbles.

“Tom,” Kitty chides.

“Fuck, sorry– fuck.”

Vera lets out a vague gurgling sound and Kitty giggles. “Say it enough, it might be her first word.”

He chuckles, and gently waves Vera’s arm about. “When do babies usually start talking?”

“Give her a chance, she can’t even sit up yet.”

He strokes his finger along the baby’s cheek, and grins when he coaxes a smile out of her. But it’s like he stops himself, pressing his lips together as his eyes darken.

“What happened with you and Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom heaves a heavy breath and takes his hand away from Vera. “I lashed out.”

“Christ, Tom.”

“She left dad alone,” he says.

If she didn’t have a baby in her lap, she thinks she could throttle him. “It wasn’t her fault,” Kitty snaps. “She couldn’t have saved him. No one could have. 

He turns to face her with a devastated look in his eyes, the kind of look he makes when he knows she’s right. “How did it happen?”

She shifts Vera in her lap. “We didn’t see, we were in the shelter. We heard the bombs getting closer, and when we heard the all clear…” she blinks a few tears from her eyes. She doesn’t mean to cry, and she feels ridiculous, crying over Tom’s father when he’s sitting beside her.

Tom shifts closer to her, and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Tom nods, running his hand over Vera’s head. “He died thinking I was gone. He didn’t know I was alright.” He draws his tongue between his lips. “But he’ll be happy now, with mum and that.”

“I hope so,” she says.

“And I didn’t leave things on a bad note,” he says, keeping his eyes on Vera, “like you told me. I shook his hand before I left.”

“See? When has my advice ever let you down?” she says, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible through the thick feeling in her throat.

Tom keeps his chin tilted down but he looks up to her. He looks more peaceful than he did this morning. His lips are settled in their natural curve, his brow is soft, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that he won’t allow to become more than a glisten.

“Never has,” he says with a smile.

He shuffles closer to her, cautiously cupping the side of her face like he’s forgotten how.

She instantly leans into him, bringing their foreheads together until she can feel his breath echoing over her lips.

It’s been so long since she’s felt him in the way she wants. She’s hardly given herself a moment to even realise that he’s here, that her months of anguish are finally done because he’s safe, he’s alive, and he still didn’t break his promise to her.

“I missed you,” she whispers. If she speaks any louder she worries her voice might falter.

Tom draws his thumb over her cheek and nudges his nose against hers. “Kitty,” he utters. His lips twitch like he can’t quite find the words he wants.

“I know,” she breathes. “I know.”

He angles his head a little before he leans in closer and presses a soft kiss to her lips, and her heart breaks a hundred times over. She feels his sadness in the tentative movements of his mouth, like he’s still scared, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

So she pours all her longing and reassurance into him, as far as she can without speaking or pausing for breath. She holds onto his neck and deepens their kiss with firm lips and a deft tongue. 

She wants to feel him, long after they’ve parted. She wants to remember how he feels, the warmth he gives her, the way his little hums make her feel weightless and set her skin alight.

Now, in this moment, the world feels perfect. 

Until Vera makes a whining noise that means she wants attention.

Kitty pulls away with a short gasp, moving Vera to her hip and she stands and tries to bounce her into content.

“She’s probably hungry,” Kitty says, and nods to the bag Lois dropped off earlier. “Her formula’s in there, bring it into the kitchen.”

Tom does as he’s told and pulls the tub out of the bag. He walks into the corridor first, and as Kitty goes to follow he stops, and turns to her.

“You look good with a baby by the way,” he says with a grin.

She scorns herself for the thrill it sends through her stomach. “Don’t, you’ll give my mam a heart attack.”

At 6 o’clock, they put the lights out for the blackout, with only the fading sunset to light the kitchen as Kitty makes a vegetable stew and spuds for dinner. Thankfully they have some beef stock she can throw in as well, which stops dad from complaining that “just veg doesn’t count as a meal.”

Evenings are tense and uncertain now. They all try to make small talk with each other over dinner, but silences are frequent and imposing. 

Once they’ve eaten, Kitty puts Vera to bed and mam and dad head upstairs shortly after, hoping to get as much sleep as they can before the sirens start.

Tom sits in the lounge, on a sofa by the window, keeping the curtains open just an inch, but all there is to see is black.

“It’s cloudy,” he says as Kitty appears in the doorway in her nightie. “Can’t even see the moon.”

She comes to join him, curling up into his lap and placing her head on his shoulder. “That’s good news for us.”

Tom wraps his arms around her and kisses her head.

The sky stays cloudy and quiet all night, no droning of planes, no sirens. 

All she hears is the sound of his breathing and his lips against her skin as he nuzzles into her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin.

“Did you miss me?” she finds herself saying.

Tom pauses and pulls his face away from her with a furrowed brow. “Do you really think I thought of anything else?” he says. “It was all that got me through, the thought of coming home to you.”

In the morning she wakes with a sliver of sunlight creeping over her eyes, still in Tom’s arms, still clinging to him. 

Lois comes to collect Vera before Kitty leaves for her shift at the shop.

“Is Tom with you?” Lois asks as kitty lowers Vera into the pram.

Kitty hesitates. “Yes,” she says, bracing herself for Lois to storm in and start shouting at him. 

He appears in the doorway, with his head down and his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m going to the churchyard,” Lois says to him, “if you’d like to see mum and dad.”

Tom looks to Kitty and she sighs, overemphasising the movement of her chest as she breathes. Don’t leave it on a bad note.

He looks back to Lois and forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

Tom stays with the Wheelans, sleeping in the boys’ bedroom, in the bed closest to the door. Each night, once Vera and her parents are asleep, Kitty steals into his bedroom and tucks herself into the space beside him.

“It feels funny like this, doesn’t it?” she whispers to him, brushing her lips over his cheek as she throws her arms around him and presses herself into his back.

“What, you being the one sneaking around?” he says, falling onto his back so she can drape herself over his bare chest.

“It’s exciting,” she says, kissing a path along his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t see why you got to have all the fun.”

“Made it worth your while, didn’t I?” She can hear him grinning as she reaches the hollow of his throat. She swipes her tongue over his skin and delights when he suppresses a grunt and grasps at her hips. 

She sits herself up, letting her nightgown hitch up to her hips as she starts to rock against him.

Tom slips a hand between her thighs and smiles when he swipes his thumb over her bare cunt. “Right little whore I’ve turned you into, hmm?”

Kitty braces herself against her chest and nods, as Tom presses into her, dragging from her entrance to her pearl.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers. “All for me?”

“All for you,” she breathes as he starts to circle over her most sensitive spot. “Fuck–”

Tom places a finger to her lips as he keeps working over her. “Shh, you have to be quiet, you know that.”

She nods again, dreamily, moving her hips against him, adding and withdrawing pressure to his movements, treading the line between pleasure and longing. Until she falls apart, shuddering, pressing her lips together tightly and snatching back the one wanton whimper that sounds in her throat.

“Good girl,” Tom snarls. His hips are bucking against her and his jaw is tight. “Good fucking girl.”

She wastes no time slipping his cock free from his briefs and sinks herself down onto his length. He’s done for with only a few rolls of her hips, pulling out before he finishes and spilling himself onto her stomach.

He’s so pretty when he comes, with a silent sigh, his jaw hanging open and his nostrils flaring. Every part of his body tenses, his abs, his neck, his shoulders, as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and throws his head back against the pillows. 

Another perfect moment, she thinks, bright and beautiful, and already slipping away.

He registers with the navy again, and in a few weeks he has his next assignment.

Before he leaves, Kitty insists on getting out Eddie’s camera (even though he’d kill her if he knew he went near it), and takes some photos of Vera for Tom to keep while he’s away.

She takes some of him too. They’re hardly high art– he wouldn’t stop laughing at his own snarky comments, but she manages one ‘serious’ one. 

His mouth is halfway to a smirk, his smile lines apparent around his mouth, but his eyes are dark and almost sinister. He hates it but there’s nothing he can do to stop her from keeping it in the envelope of one of his letters, under her pillow for safekeeping with the rest of the pieces she has of him.

He has leave in the new year, and then he’s back in October, just over two years since he first left.

By then Lois is gone. She had come into the shop, with a letter for Tom and Kitty in the pram. She had said she was going to leave her with Robina.

“Over my dead body you are,” Kitty said before she could think it through. Mam and dad were slightly horrified when she came home early from work with baby Vera in a pram and all of her belongings in a bag.

Vera is a right little character now, a stubborn but happy girl. When Tom comes back to Longsight, he stays with the Wheelans again, and he’s utterly devoted to his niece. When Kitty’s at work, he walks into the shop with Vera in his arms to buy her a bar of Cadbury’s ration chocolate. It’s awful and bitter, but it’s the only kind Vera has known and she treats it like gold dust. 

When Mr Gregory gives Kitty a few days off, she and Tom take her for walks to the park. It’s freezing, but she’s happy enough wrapped up in a coat and a woolly hat, squealing with delight when Tom picks her up and places her on his shoulders.

How remarkable are kids, that they can so easily forget about worries and fears, as long as they have something that keeps them happy.

Even with Douglas and Lois gone, she hopes Tom knows that something still remains.

Time slips away too quickly. Suddenly Tom’s in his uniform again, ditty slung over his shoulder. He takes Vera into his arms and hugs her tightly into his chest. “Be good for your aunty Kitty,” he says, “and take care of her until I get back.”

Vera nods frantically.

He says goodbye to dad like an old friend, and even mam has warmed to him a bit now. Kitty sees the way her mother looks between her and Tom, the knowing nod of her head. It’s acceptance, and she’ll take it.

“Shall we?” Tom says, taking Kitty’s hand and leading her through the door.

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, then a twenty minute ride into the city. She keeps a tight hold of Tom’s hand the entire way.

They settle in seats at the back of the bus. It’s the middle of the day, kids are in school and their parents are at work. Only a few other seats are filled.

“Thank you,” Tom says as the bus pulls away from the stop.

“For what?” Kitty says.

“For being there,” he says, “for looking out for dad when he was around, for taking care of Vera, and me.”

She wants to frown, but can’t bring herself to. “Of course,” she says, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “Of course.”

Tom’s been assigned to HMS Prince of Wales, docked at Scapa Flow in Scotland. His train leaves within the hour, and the moment they step off the bus onto the busy streets of Manchester, she feels herself walking slower. 

Tom keeps going, letting her fall behind him slightly, but never letting go of her.

No matter how she tries to drag this out, she cannot stop time altogether and they eventually reach the train station.

She could spend an eternity in his arms, cheek to cheek, breathing along with the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I want to do right by you,” Tom says.

“What do you mean?” she mutters. 

They still hold each other close; she doesn’t think she could bear to look at his face.

“Once the war is over, I’ll save up my wages, get us a place of our own. It’ll just be the two of us.”

“And Vera,” she adds.

“Yeah,” he says, stroking his hand up and down her back. “I’ll get a proper job. You should do that clerical training you’ve always talked about.”

No more sneaking around. No more nights cut short when he has to leave her.

He pulls away from her, keeping his hands on her waist. “I know your parents don’t trust me and your brothers think I’m a no-good-thieving-bastard. But I love you, Kitty, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“Once the war is over?” she says.

“As soon as.”

“Tom,” she sighs. She doesn’t want to imagine the possibility, or speak it into existence, but it’s still there. “What if you don’t come back?”

Tom smiles with a small hum. “I’ve died once before, didn’t stop me coming back to you, did it?”

Kitty believes him wholeheartedly.

Thursday 11th December, 1941

Vera’s being fussy about her nap again. No matter how much Kitty tries to hush her, rock her, or hum a few lullabies, she just won’t settle.

Eventually she tries just holding Vera close to her chest, letting the side of her little head nestle just over her heart. She stops crying almost immediately.

“How hard could it be to look after a baby?” she asked herself when she refused to let Lois leave her daughter with Robina Chase. Quite hard, as it turns out. 

The peace doesn’t last for long. Mam’s shoes come clattering down the stairs, the doorbell rings and Vera starts wailing again. 

“Oh come here,” mam coos, taking Vera from Kitty’s arms. “You get the door, I’ll see this one gets her nap, eh?”

Kitty takes a quick breath before she opens the door. Hearing Vera cry makes her want to cry too. 

The postman stands below the front step with a telegram in his hands.

“Catherine,” he says with a polite smile, “haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been… busy,” she says through Vera’s wails.

The postman hands her the telegram and she reads over the address: Lois Bennett, 27 Slade Grove, Longsight, Manchester, only there’s no house for it to be delivered to, and no Lois to take it.

She feels the tears start to prickle in her eyes as she waves him off, and when she shuts the door she can no longer stand. Suddenly she’s on the floor, her back against the door, unable to catch her breath as hot, stinging tears stream down her face and the telegram crumples under her fist.

She thinks maybe Vera keeps crying and mam calls her name, trying to get her to stand but she can’t. She just… can’t. A sinking feeling washes over her and keeps her pinned down, like the waves pummeling against the shore, over and over again. 

If there’s a telegram addressed to Lois, it can only mean one thing.

Tom.

Monday 24th December, 1945

The bus to Longsight stops outside the shop. She lifts Vera under the arms of her little red coat, onto the pavement, and takes a mittened hand in hers as they head inside. Mr Gregory sold it a few months ago and she doesn’t know the name of the new owners.

The woman behind the counter smiles down at Vera. “Aren’t you a gorgeous little madam?” she coos.

Vera rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby, I’m five,” she says.

Kitty smiles to herself. “Bottle of sherry and a bag of Yorkshire mix, please,” she says. She crouches down beside Vera and spots a shelf of Christmas wrapping. “Go and pick out some ribbon for the bottle,” she whispers.

She pays for their items and Vera comes back with a bright red ribbon.

“Perfect,” Kitty says, and ties it into a bow around the neck.

As they walk towards Slade Grove, Kitty picks out some red sweets for Vera and a pear drop for herself. The rest she saves for later, finding she now prefers the sweets she never used to eat.

It’s nice and warm inside number 28. A Chorus of Christmas carols plays through the wireless from the kitchen, a backdrop to the bustle of the house. Mam is in the kitchen, making her final preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. Art helps her, albeit, his version of helping is pouring out gin and tonics. Dad, Eddie, Stevie and Connie are sat around the table, engrossed in a game of cards. But everyone stops when Vera comes bounding into the room, Kitty close behind her.

They each take their turns to smother her, and it feels good. Stevie practically jumps up and down as he hugs her, Art hands her a drink and Eddie hugs her the tightest. 

She manages a sip of her drink and places it on the table as she goes to greet her dad, still mulling over his hand of cards as he kisses her cheek. Then she goes to her mam, and hands her the bottle of sherry. 

“I chose the bow!” Vera proclaims proudly.

“And a lovely bow it is!” mam beams, placing the bottle amongst their Christmas stash of whisky, gin and dessert wine. “I have something for you, love,” she says.

“Oh?” Kitty asks as mam disappears into the front room. She comes back with a pot of poinsettias in a red pot, thick green leaves with bursts of blood red petals and golden seeds at their hearts.

“I thought we could put them out, tonight,” mam says.

Kitty opens her mouth to thank her, but she can’t. She nods as mam places her hand on her arm.

Even months after the war has ended, meat is still scarce, especially at this time of year, but mam had saved up her rations for a beautiful joint of beef, which she presents in the centre of the table.

It’s a cheerful occasion. The boys are rowdy, dad is quizzing Connie on her latest gig with her new band, mam is fussing over Vera.

Kitty watches them all. It’s hard not to feel like a ghost, an outlier, simply observing. Sometimes she thinks the others are still too scared to talk to her, in case she bursts into tears or shatters completely. She knows she won’t though. It’s Christmas. She’s supposed to be happy, surrounded by family and people she loves.

“We’re going to see her daddy for dinner tomorrow,” Vera says, stabbing at her boiled carrots.

“What’s Christmas dinner with Robina Chase like?” Stevie asks Kitty.

Her face freezes into a terrified smile to the others’ amusement. “No, it’s fine really,” she says. “Your grandma spoils you rotten, doesn’t she missus?”

Vera nods enthusiastically.

She’s such an easy girl to love. She has bright blue eyes, plump, rosy cheeks and dark brown curls, like her mother’s, kept in pigtails. But while her face is deceptively sweet, she has an awful habit for mischief and stubbornness. Kitty doesn’t mind that though. Girls should be stubborn, she thinks.

Stevie and Connie are expecting now. Dad insists it’s going to be a boy because he saw four magpies in the garden last week. They have a modest little house a few streets away and they’ve made it nice and homely. She’s had tea there and helped Stevie set up a crib for the nursery. 

After they’ve eaten, dad insists they all go to midnight mass, as he does every year, despite Kitty’s insistence that it’s much too late for Vera. Still, she puts her in a pretty blue dress and shiny black leather shoes, and makes Stevie promise he’ll be the one to carry her home.

The church is mostly shadows at night, a few candles and lamps doing their best to fight off the darkness and the cold. Vera hates it. She pulls her woolly hat over her ears, swings her legs and on three occasions asks “is he done talking yet?” She likes the hymns though, even if she doesn’t know the words, mouthing some kind of nonsense that has them all in fits of giggles.

And once it’s over, they don’t follow the path down to the street. Kitty leads the way, with the pot of poinsettias in her hands. Stevie follows behind her, carrying a sleepy Vera in his arms, curled into his chest.

She stops before the grave she first stood by seventeen years ago.

Josie Bennett

Douglas Bennett

and in loving memory of Thomas Bennett, 1919-1941

Kitty crouches down to lay the poinsettias down when Vera gives a little squeak in protest. “I want to do it!” she cries.

“Come on then, missus,” Kitty says.

Stevie lowers Vera and she rubs her tired eyes as she staggers to Kitty. She tries to take the pot but with her mittens she can’t get a good grip on it.

“Together?” Kitty asks.

“Yes please,” Vera says.

They place the flowers down together, making sure they don’t obstruct the names.

“There,” Vera says with a little huff. She reaches out and puts her hand on the stone, brushing over the names of her granny and granddad Bennett, and then she traces over the letters of Tom’s name.

Even seeing it written in stone, she doesn’t think it will ever truly sink in. 

A report said Tom had been in the makeshift aid centre on the main deck of the HMS Prince of Wales, when the final bomb hit. He could have run for the lifeboats. He would have had plenty of time. But he didn’t. He died to save his injured crewmates, men who would have never seen their families again.

For all the times he told her he would come back, for the life he promised they would make together, for all the nights she clung onto hope, she wanted to hate him for throwing it away.

She knows now that she can’t hate him. She could never hate him.

Vera falls back into Kitty’s arms. She catches her and places a gentle kiss to her soft cheek. “They would have loved you, you know,” Kitty says. “They would have loved that you’re brave, and funny, and that you drive everybody round the bend.”

Vera giggles and turns around, flinging her arms around her neck. “I love you, aunty Kitty,” she says.

Kitty hugs her tightly into her chest, with that strange sort of urge to just squeeze her and squeeze her and never let her go. “I love you too,” she whispers, so Vera won’t hear the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Vera manages to walk down to the gate before Stevie has to carry her, and by the time they get back to the house, she’s fast asleep.

Kitty takes her in her arms and carries her up to the little box room. Connie and Stevie have the other big bedroom, and Eddie and Art are roughing it on the sofas in the lounge.

She places Vera down in the bed, as gently as she can, and takes off her shoes and coat so she won’t have to sleep in them.

It’s almost like a ritual now, but every time she finds herself in her old bedroom, she unlocks the window and brushes her fingers over the scuff mark on the windowsill. 

Vera stirs slightly when she joins her, curling into Kitty when she places an arm around her. The bed is hardly big enough for the two of them, how she and Tom ever managed to fit seems somewhat miraculous. 

Tom Bennett should have been hers to keep. They should have spent all their savings on a little terraced house or a flat in Manchester, squabbling over the things husbands and wives argue about and making up between the bedsheets. In the winters they would have walked home from the pub through the snow, hand in hand, and huddled for warmth at night. In the summers they would have spent their evenings in the park with a punnet of strawberries, taking the train to the coast on the weekends, to Southport or Blackpool. Maybe they would have had kids of their own. She often pictures a little girl with big blue eyes and a bright smile. They might have named her Josie, after Tom’s mother, and Vera would adore her.

There is so little left of him now, the bomb that hit the Bennett’s house ensured that well enough. She would have liked to have kept his lighter, his wristwatch, maybe some of his shirts.

Instead, she finds other ways to remember him. She reads his letters every night tracing over his terrible handwriting, the imprint of the words in the paper and his fingerprint in a smudge of ink. And she has the photo she took of him on Eddie’s camera. She keeps it framed, proudly on display on the mantle in their flat in the city.

She feels him, in the smell of grass, the flick of a lighter, the smoke from a cigarette, whispered secrets between lovers and Vera Bennett’s laugh, the way she squints her eyes and shows her teeth, just like he did. 

Two decades of friendship and it wasn’t enough time. They should have known sooner, she should have knocked on his door more often and he should have spent less time getting into trouble. She should have told him to join the pacifists while it was still an option, she should have convinced him not to go away, she should have held him tighter and never, never have let him go.

In the end though, she doesn’t linger on the times they weren’t together. She remembers them being children together. She remembers the first night he climbed through her window. She remembers his warmth and his infuriating smirk. She remembers the first time they kissed and the nights they spent together, when she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She remembers every time he told her he loved her, and she remembers every time she said it back.

She falls asleep to Vera’s fluttering breaths, the sound of the lads and Connie in the front room and the hymns playing on the radio.

The world is cruel and cold, but through it all she finds moments like these, when the tightness in her chest is replaced by something light and hopeful.

She clings to that feeling because tomorrow she’ll wake up surrounded by her family, and Vera’s little face will light up when she sees the gifts they’ve been saving for her. Dinner with Robina Chase will be worth it for the moments Harry will get with his little girl, and in the evening she’ll come home and laugh herself silly over glasses of whisky with her brothers. 

For all the grief she remembers how he loved her. She’ll keep clinging to that feeling because Tom Bennett was hers, if only just for a moment.

Disclaimer: I only skimmed through the episodes that Tom wasn’t in and don’t actually know what Lois’ deal was, so I’m taking some creative liberties here.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Please rant about it!!

Ok!

But also, I'm linking the videos just incase people stumble across this and want to watch the videos after seeing this:

HBomberguy's Video

Todd in the Shadows video

————————————————————

I'm starting out with some of my favorite parts before a mini rant bc, yeah! (This is nowhere near all of my favorite parts, but there's just so much it'd take me hours to compile.

————————————————————

Immediately starting with a Harlan Ellison moment was amazing

The "world's most fuckable twink" line absolutely took me out, but then him going into the explanation about plagiarism being disrespectful right after was like two back to back gut punches, in the best way. Because he was so fucking right about it.

The grammar mistakes he points out are so funny

Him overlaying Brian Deer's documentary over Blair's video was also great.

Him calling Blair out for being lazy and honestly a shitty person was also great.

ALSO! BLAIR CITING HER SOURSE AND IT BEING A PIRACY WEBCITE!?

Also also him making fun of how her sprite moves 😭

Him calling out Internet Historian for being a piece of shit

German board game joke

How he points out Reilly's skill and talent

"Just don't touch the screen or move the mouse awa..."

"MASTER OF SHIT!" (rips the wall down)

"There's one group more important than historians, or journalists, or anyone else with a real job, and that's gay people."

————————————————————

Rant time :)

My mini rant is just about how fucking stomach churning the second half is. Like, let me tell you, I watched that entire section, mouth agape, in shock and horror. I can bearly fathom how lazy, pathetic, and malicious you'd have to be to pull some of the shit he (Somerton) did. (The first half stuff was insanely bad too don't get me wrong)

Hbomberguy did an amazing job showing the visual of how many parts of the queer horror video were plagiarized, I legitimately gasped when the highlighted portions were shown.

Every time you think he can't get any lower, he does. It's baffling, and honestly, I wish I could say more about how mad this makes me, but I'm so mad and tired that I can't think of words so mini rant over, I suppose.

————————————————————

But also, sorry, this is one thing I feel like no one is mentioning, and it's driving me insane. I also watched Todd in the Shadows video (which is also really good btw) and at least three parts of the video debunk lies Somerton said about nazis, the main ones being, (and I'm taking the titles from the yt video so you can find these in the time stamps)

1. The SS was "teeming with homosexuals"

2. The hitler youth was also run by homosexuals

3. The nazis created our current body standards.

In the three mentioned above, Somerton's lies are genuinely just him writing gay fan fic about nazi Germany (at least that's how I felt about what he was speaking and wording things) and it's fucking disgusting. He says things in such a skin crawling way it makes me sick.

And no one seems to be talking about it or how fucking weird it is, but hey, maybe I'm reading too much into it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my mini rant and my favorite parts. Sorry it's all kinda messy.

[richierambles]

Cartman's system: headmate list 2.0

Been thinking thoughts idk

This list would be their alters when their body's 15yo (sorry it's long I might make a shorter one later-)

Thanks to @mischieviousmusic and @everythingwasnormalhere for standing my infodumping about this au XD

Littles:

Anne:

6 yo

She/her

Loves playing tea party (main fronter during it)

When it's the other littles playing, she mainly roleplays as the Polly Prissipants doll

Sometimes cofronts when they're at class, but isn't allowed to talk to their classmates

Almost always at cofront when Love's fronting

After they come out, she's closest to Stan and Butters

They're not out to Karen, but Anne's spent time with her too

Whenever she talks to Kenny she asks him how she's doing<3

Ginger in headspace (it felt important to mention this don't ask why)

Finn:

8yo

He/him

Main fronter almost all the time they're playing

Roleplays as most of the other toys when they're playing tea party though

Loves playing cowboys

Frienemies with Artemis, they'll either hate each other or be best friends all the time

After they come out, he's closest to Kenny (but will much rather hang out with his sysmates)

Looks and acts like a Typical White Boy™

Artemis:

5yo

He/they

Introjected from Artemis Clyde Frog (the stuffed animal), but lost almost all his connection to it since the day it died (and exclusively goes by Artemis, hates his other names)

Roleplays himself when playing with the other syskids, never a main fronter while playing

Spent a long while (2-3 years) dormant, only came back after they came out, one day when the system was hanging out with their friends

The gang were all like "wtf who's this idk this alter-" but finally figured it out (mainly Kyle did)

SUPER close to Kyle

Actually whenever Artemis fronts they'll text Kyle first thing no matter what

Also close-ish to Butters

Has dark skin in the innerworld, his iw appearance is human but he always wears a frog hat

Hosts:

Sam:

15yo

he/him

The meaner, stronger Cartman

Is also a protector besides a host

Split from Collins on the Kenny Dies episode

He's the one who used fetuses to built the pizza place because otherwise the guys would've thought he was weak (his thought process is fucking crazy)

One of the few alters who remembers Kenny's deaths

He also knows there's something weird going on in their brain, but has no idea what

Used to cleaning up after everyone else's messes (like acting as if Jenni was Mitch Conners and as if all the Henniffer Lopez thing was just a joke (which backfired so bad...))

After they come out, he hangs out with everyone the same way they always do

Insys, he's trying to get close to 8

^ completely idolatrizes Hitler

Huge on the antisemitism (and general bigotry tbh)

Collins:

14yo

he/him

Split from Sam on the Kenny dies episode

He did want to use the fetuses to save Kenny, and he does consider Kenny his best friend

But he switched out when they got the news Kenny was dead (he was unable to cope with that) and so that's why Sam did what he did

Acts much more like a normal kid than Sam

Actually he's pretty normal for South Park standards

After they come out, he's best friends with Kenny but still friends with the rest of the gang as usual

Not as bad as Sam but definitely not good either

Kyle doesn't hate him as much as he hates Sam (but he'd never say this)

Cartman-sonas (idk how else to call this category):

Irick:

120yo

he/him

Grand Wizard King

Gatekeeper

Fronts mainly while playing SoT (but not every time they do)

Definitely their most responsible alter

^ the others often ask him for advice and stuff

Mildly connected to source

The first time he fronted it was during a SoT game, he found all of it normal (his memories are of the SoT universe) but when they stopped playing he was so weirded out by everything since he's used to a fantasy world

"Cartman stop rping we finished 2 hours ago" "who trapped those guys inside that box 😰" (they were watching TV 💀)

Now (after they came out) they don't play SoT as much, so he only takes full control on special occasions or when Kenny is on a Princess shift (otherkin Kenny 💯)

Only actually close to Kenny because of that, doesn't talk much to anyone else

Grim:

18yo

it/raccoon neos/he

The Coon

Physical protector

Formed because of Cartman's hero persona, but that was long before they started going out as The Coon (they made the first concept for that sona when they were around 4-5yo)

But one day it fronted and decided why not go out fight crime

The others didn't know about this at first

They just knew they had a weird fixation on that "Coon" hero (which, they didn't know where they saw him either but wtv)

But one day Sam decided to go out as Coon (in a rp manner) and found he looked exactly like him

Grim fronted in the middle of it and yk Coon'd for a bit

And Sam did remember that time

So what made more sense is that he'd been The Coon since the beginning

(which wasn't exactly a lie-)

After their syscovery, they assumed Grim formed after they started going out as The Coon

Grim has never confirmed nor denied this

Every single time Kenny's in his Mysterion shift fur gets yeeted to front just so they can argue for a while 💀

Talks to pretty much all the gang but mainly Mysterion'd Kenny

Gets called a furry 24/7 by both his headmates and Kenny (and the rest of the gang sometimes, not as much tho). He fucking hates it.

Adrian:

16yo

he/him

Sexual protector

Metrosexual Cartman

But he's a full-on homosexual

Cartman's metrosexual phase lasted longer than anyone else's because "it's not a phase mom it's who I am 🙄💅"

It was a phase for everyone but Adrian

He's still in that phase

Has hooked up with half the system and even a couple guys out of it

Nothing serious though

Before they came out he respected Cartman's image and didn't flirt with their friends, but after they did there's not a conversation in which he's not telling them the gayest most explicit shit ever

The gang are between confidence boost and absolute utter cringe fucking kill me pls

Theodore:

17yo

he/him

Persecutor (misguided protector) + academic

Formed during Tsst, he's the nice submissive version of Cartman

Would let basically anyone boss him around

Good intentions all the time

Won't do anything bad on purpose

All his submissiveness has gotten them in trouble though

To the point the others try to avoid him fronting as much as they can

He switched in when they were going to kill Liane though, that's good

Goes exclusively by Theodore, some people have tried to call him Theo but he hates that

After they come out, the gang are kinda uncomfortable with him, but Butters warms up to him eventually

(the reason why they're uncomfortable is because Theodore has such a Not Cartman way to act, and also because he's kinda really fucking lame)

(also a bit because Sam has told them all about the times Theodore has messed up)

Sunny/Love

Ageless

love-related neos

Cupid Me

Sexual protector

Hypersexual

When heart's at front, heart'll flirt with Kyle so much it's insane

Is it because fluff's in love with him? Is it because fluff ships kyman? Is it because of a secret third reason? Who knows

Btw everyone else (/sys) was so confused about it at first, like, "...wdym I was acting weird yesterday? I was flirting with you?? And calling you Ky-boo??? Good one dude but quit the bullshit I never did that"

Then when they had the syscovery nobody associated that with some alter doing it

Until a few months after they came out Kyle connected the dots and almost instantly told Sam (who was so pissed off at Sunny 😭)

Love's mostly close to the girls (Nichole, Bebe, even Wendy), but a lot closer to Collins and Anne

Also 💘's never stopped flirting with Kyle, and will never stop (slay)

Introjects:

Eight/8/H:

56yo

he/him

Hitler factive, really connected to source

Protector + Prosecutor

Formed soon after they learnt about Hitler's existence

Fronts at times in which they have to act commanding, such as The Passion Of The Jew or Ginger Kids

Also fronted during some of Tsst, and was who planned (and tried) to kill Liane

After they came out, he didn't front much in front of their friends (he found them lame)

But one day something Bad happened when they woke up and he got triggered to front, so he had to go to school

When the gang noticed he was acting different, they asked who he was

Well, Kyle did, but Eight refused to answer

Stan asked again and H told them his name was Adolf Hitler

Kyle refused to even look at him the rest of that day (and rightfully so)

When someone else switched in, Kyle told them that if 8 didn't at least change his name he'd never talk to any of them ever again, so that's why he goes by Eight/8/H (that was the most he'd accept to change it)

When he's at front (not often) Kyle has to resist the urge to beat him up (he doesn't wanna hurt some of the others), but to find them both in the same room is practically imposible

Jenni:

25yo

she/her

Jenniffer Lopez factive

Talks in spanish sometimes, it's horribly incorrect but she doesn't care

She's the one who does most of the drag

Also the other one (besides Adrian) who hooks up with random guys

She's mostly at cofront rather than full front (talking with the hand because it "looks less weird"), but she's been at full front sometimes too :3

Fucking hates Mitch

After they come out, she hangs out with Bebe sometimes (but not really too often, she'll much rather go with celebrities)

Mitch Conner:

31yo

they/he

Sam first made him up so he could "get rid of" Jenni without looking too insane

But then they actually split

Jenni and Mitch fucking hate each other, Jenni because he steals her identity and Mitch because he thinks she's annoying

Whenever they front they'll find out everything they can about the other alters (and everyone in general) just so they can get stuff from them later

Kyle is so annoyed by his existence for some reason

Other (idk where else to put her soo):

Mae:

21yo

she/her

Persecutor

Originally split when they were a little kid (3-5), to take care of them when Liane didn't (she was kinda neglectful back then)

Also to have them grow up in a hopefully healthier environment

But she started obsessing over growing up and maturing to the point she actually made them unsafe

Such as in 1%, when she mutilated their stuffed animals and almost killed them (by burning down their house) in the process

Now she almost never fronts, and only Irick knows where she is and is allowed to talk to her

[jewish-vents]

its so bad to the point that i cant talk to goyim anymore, i just cant trust them whatsoever. but my therapist is a goy and a few weeks ago i tried to say that i was scared to go to more punk shows because of rampant antisemitism and she basically said that i was just paranoid and that it doesnt matter anyways. so obviously i walked out. but since then i cant talk to her i cant forget about everything that goyim have done to break me these past few months and i cant trust her to talk even about normal stuff. i still go i just sit there in silence while she talks at me for an hour. last week she asked me if someone did something to make me shut down like this and i was just thinking "yeah, my friend was murdered in october and i lost all my irl friends after i saw them cheering on the people who murdered him and i get people telling me almost everyday that hitler shouldve finished the job" but i just stayed silent because i know she'll probably agree with them. when my mum woke me up to take me today i started crying and hyperventilating because im so scared. its really bad because i need her to help get on the diability benefit, i cant work because im disabled and i cant get the benefit alone because my disabilities stop me from going to the meetings and making the phone calls and my brother said im a waste of resources and contribute nothing to society and i cant leave my house because im scared i'll get killed for being jewish

I'm sorry but your therapist sounds like a crappy therapist. It sucks that you need her. You're not a waste of resources and you can contribute to society, but one way or another you have inherent worth that is completely independent from what you can give others. And you have experienced quite a significant bit of trauma, and maybe more things you haven't even mentioned here. You're allowed to feel sad and upset and even angry.

When you need it, you can always come here scream and cry and talk and whatever you want (within the rules, of course). We're not going to judge you and you don't even need to make sense. Just let it out.

Best of luck and I hope it gets better for you

[nothorses]

The bomb was unequivocally genocidal and racist but so was the opposing side of the war and it feels disingenuous if not blatantly antisemitic to post callouts about Oppenheimer without acknowledging that he was Jewish

this is the weirdest fucking ask I have ever received and I am posting it exclusively because I NEED to roast this person's whole thought process. I need to.

"The bomb was unequivocally genocidal and racist-" yes, dropping a bomb on multiple Japanese cities is indeed genocidal and racist.

"-but so was the opposing side of the war" yes, hitler was genocidal and racist. However, you are now engaging in a debate about whether bombing Hiroshima and Nagasaki was "deserved"; whether all of those civilians deserved to die in the name of *checks notes* a more complete surrender by the Japanese government than the one already being negotiated.

And, of course, in service of flexing on Russia.

"it feels disingenuous if not blatantly antisemitic to post callouts about Oppenheimer" this is the post anon is referring to. if you click that link and read the post, you'll notice that it is not, in fact, a callout post of Oppenheimer. It's a post about how much it sucks that the movie, "Oppenheimer", does not include or mention at any point the people (particularly indigenous people) injured or otherwise affected by the bomb's testing.

"-without acknowledging that he was Jewish." Sorry. is your argument that it's antisemitic not to mention that Oppenheimer is Jewish when discussing the ethics of doing genocide against Japanese people?

Like this whole argument is that it is actually antisemitic if you don't bring up that Oppenheimer was Jewish any time the bombing of Japan is mentioned, because- and I'm working on inferred meaning now- it's actually okay to do genocide on Japanese civilians, so long as their government is in a political alliance with nazis, and the person "doing" the genocide is Jewish.

And you are arguing this in defense not only of a guy who is in no way being attacked here in the first place, but who also did not actually do a genocide personally so much as, like, work on nuclear technology for the US military (and there are some moral nuances there as well, don't get me wrong, but... woof.)

With the added assumption that Oppenheimer worked on the bomb because Japan was allied with Germany and that he, personally, actively, wanted to genocide Japanese civilians. A thing that, to my knowledge, he has never actually stated- and in fact, it seems that a significant part of the plot of Oppenheimer is that he regretted and attempted to rein in the atomic bomb.

Hey.

Buddy.

I think it's time to learn more about social justice and world history than the little "it's okay to be mad at your oppressors" platitudes that were circulated on Tumblr back in 2014.

[scarlet--wiccan]

So this is not supposed to be a gotcha question because I'm sure you'll have a good response to it, but what of the argument that Wanda and Pietro were white characters for the first 15 years of their history (arguably until VIsion & The Scarlet Witch vol. 2 confirmed Magda)? What gets to me on social media is the frequent statement that they were always Romani, a bit like (though not nearly as bad as) the idea that the Hitler-like Magneto of the 60s/70s should be read as a Holocaust survivor.

Well, I agree that it would be dishonest to claim that they were "always" intended to be Romani characters, because as far as we know, that's simply not the truth. But to that, I raise two points. The first-- so what? They didn't have a fully established backstory in the 60s or for most of the 70s, but the same can be said a lot of other Silver Age characters, including most of the original X-Men cast. So who cares? When the writers finally settled on a concrete backstory, this is what they came up with.

Second, I think the fact that they've existed as such for 40+ years, and that their heritage is an integral part of every iteration of their origin story-- not to mention the fact that it makes them arguably the most prominent Romani characters in the entire superhero genre/American pop culture writ large-- should be enough for people to accept that this is a key aspect of the characters, and it's not going to change. I'm sorry, but if you look at Wanda and Pietro's full 60 year publication history and all you can say is "well, for a small fraction of that time, years before I or most people currently purchasing comics were even born, they were white, so therefore I'm entitled to whitewash them," you're being racist. You just are.

We're talking about representations of a marginalized community, as well as depictions of, and narratives about, the way that community has historically been oppressed. You have to internalize that fact, and, like, have a moral backbone about it.

As for Magneto, I think that when we're reading material that spans decades, as comics do, we have to develop the ability to simultaneously read the text as it was written at the time of publication, AND view it in context of the larger continuity. I agree that it's hard to reconcile Magneto's characterization in the 60s and 70s with the version we know and love today, but you don't necessarily have to. And I have to say, this is a very different situation that I don't think compares at all to Wanda and Pietro. With Magneto, we've got two different character treatments that really conflict, but with the twins it's just an absence of information that was eventually expanded upon.

[jovenshires]

hii i’m new to the smosh fandom and i was wondering what are some like Must See videos i need to watch cause they are the only thing i’ve been watching for like three days straight

oh my god............. to have this task placed before me is an honor and yet. so many to choose from so little time. im sorry im just throwing everything at you at once i tried to narrow it down and failed MISERABLY so here you go:

i would say tntl is a must-see series in general, but it's a LOT of episodes, so i think the two best episodes to see are the 100th episode and the first episode including anthony. these are both heavy hitters, extremely funny, i cannot rec either of them enough

if you're in for a longer video, the cheating reddit stories is everything to me and the best example of this series i love so much. amanda and angela have such good chemistry and shayne is so good in this one, not to mention the stories.... oh my god im getting emotional just thinking about it.

im not really the person to go to for sketches (im more of a smosh pit/games person) BUT i will say the new food battle is incredible if you're into the sketches. no need to see the prior food battles (i haven't seen them in Years), all fun, just vibes

all the try not to win videos are so funny to me like the peak of unscripted content imo, but my favorites are don't win mario party gets physical and somehow we got WORSE which was just released. both contain shenanigans and violence and both make me laugh SO hard i bust a gut every time

the two truths and a lie series is everything to me, and specifically, if you can endure awkwardness and suffering, ian and pam's OR if you want like a fun silly goofy time, ian and anthony's. of course if you're here on my blog i can also rec spencer and tommy's!

let's do this entering our scammer era is iconic. i miss lets do this every day and this is THE best ep

board af is my beloved; specifically the queen of lies plays secret hitler and will they say i do? (love is blind) are both everything to me

who memed it is everything to me, good for lore and good laughs, specifically roasting each other with memes

eat it or yeet it is, everyone knows, one of my fave series of all time, and my personal faves are it's our birthday and truth or yeet: things get real they're both SO good

and finally im gonna throw in the funeral roasts here. they're all incredible truly but im dropping damien's funeral roast bc i think it's the best example of the series while still playing inside baseball (my other faves are try guys and mythical so i decided not to include them)

once again im so sorry to throw all this at you but these are some of my top picks!!! and im sure there's some im forgetting and i will kick myself in an hour but i hope this is a good start <3

[sgiandubh]

7 years ago, Sam and Cait answered an honest question with a very frank and clear answer, No, we are not together

What makes me foolish to deafen my ears to this answer, then close my eyes and not see what happened after Cait's engagement, then her marriage, and then her birth to a child.

Would a hardworking and successful actress like Cait risk her Hollywood reputation by living a lie?

Claire loved Jamie

Cait was not romantically or sexually attracted to Sam, If she was, she would never have married Tony, nor anyone else.

Dear Sad Anon Person (or Entity, for that matter),

I see y'all are in a frenzy, tonight. So be it.

If you think all stars' PR pre-planned interviews are Bible truth, you are probably 12.

Your English grammar is appalling. English is not my mother tongue (or one of the two of them, for that matter). Still, I make an effort. A decent one. I owe it to these lovely people here.

Your question is so hollow and so many times denied by Hollywood reality, I am almost sorry for you, Anon. Why do you think we have an industry of unauthorized biographies of famous people? For me to read next week at the beach?

Wee joke. Next week, I am going to take with me Patrick Leigh Fermor's A Time of Gifts. It has no pictures, but a whole world inside its pages.

If you think no memoir is embellished, you are not 12, but maybe 15.

If you think a book cannot lie, I am going to mention one single memoir/book. Mein Kampf. A guy named Adolf Hitler wrote it. It sold well, to people like you, who never critically question their reality.

It is a wonderful, balmy summer night in Europe. Take a walk. Question your soul. There is much darkness in it for you to see these two people's light shining through.

I took this picture in Messolonghi, last summer, Anon. May its serenity soothe your troubled soul:

[infoglitch]

Wtf

(the following is me over exaggerating my fury as I read this brain rot garbage)

.... You ever just get this weird feeling that you just want to walk over someone's grave when they immediately die.

Thats me right now. And said grave is WR.

Like legit why are the toxic parts of fandom so damn vocal and why they gotta be BATSHIT FUCKIN INSANE

"rehabilitation camps" mothafuckers are trying to be fucking Hitler or some shit?!

"no mentioning WK unless it's to slander" BRO WTF. Ok one, the fact you are actively saying that you are "slandering" Whiteknight is just... I'm sorry but wtf is wrong with you?! Two, People can like a ship to dislike. I personally fucking hate WR and I want to burn it to the fuckin ground, but you don't see me (i.e human garbage) attacking WR shipers just because I hate the ship with a BURNING PASSION.

"law of equivalent exchange" this shit ain't FMA knock your shit off my guy you look like a idiot trying to be intelligent.

"Church of whiterose", y'all ain't a church, y'all just butt hurt because not everyone likes WR. SUCK IT UP, it's just a damn SHIP.

And then it just gets FUCKIN worse.

... Man sometimes i hate shipping because that leads to brain dead idiots like the example shown

And to the person who's wrote these tweets and is reading this post for some ungodly reason. I want you to know you do not represent the people who enjoy and ship WR at all, I may hate the damn ship but i know damn well that there are people who enjoy it without tearing down other ships.

So take your three fuckin rules.

AND

SHOVE

IT

UP

YOUR

ASS!

[animentality]

The previous ask reminded me that I also started following you for eremin. So I'm also an old fella leftover from that Era.

I didn't keep up with any of snk anymore and don't even know how it ended, let alone the ship. What was the toast ending you spoke about?

anon im sorry, but I straight up do not have it in me to talk about that ending anymore.

it was horrible and every character was butchered and tossed into a blender for the sake of a predetermined ending that no longer fit the series it was written for.

it also jerked off all the edgelordbros who just like fascist characters and jizz simultaneously every time some ubermensch wannabe Hitler stand in mentions he's going to kill everyone to save his own race.

my two least favorite ships somehow managed to be even stupider than they've always been.

but it's out of my system.

I really don't care. I don't feel anything for it, I tossed it out back and haven't looked at it since. I can't even complain about it properly anymore because that would require thinking about it, and I don't care to.

any love I might've had for that ship is completely gone too.

both characters became fucking disgusting and unlikable in the end anyway.

they deserved what they got.

actually, they deserved worse.

I was actually rooting for one or both of them to die horribly. it's a shame the coward didn't have it in him to humiliate either character death note style. but alas.

death note is better anyway.

it's kind of nice to not care about either of them or the ship, though.

like, it used to anger me, people not seeing the queer coding of those characters, but now?

lol.

that series is a fascists wet dream.

it shouldn't have any queer characters, because it was made for people who idolize the idea of global genocide for the sake of your own perfect race and nation.

that crowd doesn't really like the queers, now does it

every single person in it should be straight, actually.

and hilariously, they are.

the one and only lesbian character got killed unceremoniously off screen and the girl she cared about was heterosexual all along and didn't give a rats ass about her, and never mentioned her again. also she became nothing more than a broodmare in the end.

and the one nonbinary character died for absolutely no reason.

but anyway.

I digress.

anon, I'm glad to see you still here, after all this time.

I might not care about the ship or the show, but I still have fondness for the first mutuals I made, and the people who would listen to me screaming at my pulpit every Sunday.

[alanshee-keeper-of-realms]

I greatly admire Walt Disney and everything he created, I consider him an inspiration to me. I don't like how people like to villainize him, saying things like that he was a Nazi sympathizer or that he was racist. I know he wasn't perfect, but the truth is that no one is, that's what makes us human. I have enormous respect for him, for Roy, Ub and other classic Disney employees. The people I have no respect for are people like Katzenberg, Eisner, Chapek and Iger. They may have done a lot of good things for the company, but they also did a lot of bad things.

Sorry this got a bit long , however Honestly the modern CEOs to me have done nothing but damage I have nothing good to say Iger is the only one I can say there is a little bit that he has done to help contribute

Eisner was only thinking about the mermaid movies

Katzenberg damn near took down black cauldron if you don't know what I'm talking about he literally hated a scene so much he tried telling these animators to edit out certain parts even though this was the 1980s and that was damn near impossible he kept on trying to pressure them into doing it Eisner basically had to pull his leash so he would leave the movie alone however they did make sure that one scene was cut down

Katzenberg is also the reason 2D animation is out of the company but I will give him the factor that he created DreamWorks out of sheer spite with Spielberg and Geffen and that still gets me cackling to this day

Eisner though is the reason Splash Mountain was named that did you know originally Splash Mountain was called the Zip a Dee ride but he renamed it to Splash Mountain after the Splash H20 movie

And let's not mention the train wreck that was the '90s Eisner was literally trying that one Steve Buscemi meme of hello fellow kids there was actual gang fights because of the Clubs for teens he made that became known to the local gangs and became hang out spots. No I'm not joking go look it up and in the parking lot of Disneyland a kid was shot and killed over these gang rivalries

I'm not even going to mention Chapek because he made Eisner look like a saint in just 2 years canceled Owl House went on a anti-lgbtq rant was quantity over quality many projects were canceled because they did not align with his values

When the board members literally hunt Iger back down because they want to boot this guy out you know he's very fucked

And then Iger started out promising he would even go to the parks and make sure everything was okay. Nobody in the CEO position had really done that just randomly like him since Walt, this is why the 2010s are seen as some of the best years because he was initially pretty damn good

But then he started slipping I don't know if it's just a fumble because he's trying to repair everything with Chapek, but he is made some condemming decisions, especially with the whole Palestine and Anti LGBTQA situation right now.

When it comes to Walt Roy and Ub, I will be the first to tell you Walt was not perfect however he definitely was not a Nazi sympathizer he in fact had Donald hit Hitler in the face with a tomato at one point in time,

And as for people saying he was anti-semite that was based on an old rumor because of the whole no beards thing of the parks

like legitimately it was rumored at one point he was a part of the Communist Party like these are very old rumors that were proven untrue.

He didn't like beards because according to people around him he was afraid women would find them intimidating you got to remember the societal side it was a completely different era not an excuse however you have to factor it in whether you like it or not.

Walt Roy and Ub were three guys just trying to make it like everyone else, that's not even bringing up what would happen with Oswald damn near brought the company to it's knees because Oswald was supposed to be the mascot supposed to be the one they made their shorts off of and just when they think they have it it's all taken away by Mintz

Left damn near penniless and with only a few sketches of what would become Mickey Mouse did they escape Universal and with hard work but also on a wish and a prayer did they manage to bring it back from the brink.

If you see the villain in up btw Charles Muntz yeah that's why they made Charles Muntz I still laugh when I watch that film because the pettiness is beautiful. Thank you to the animators at Pixar and Disney for spitting in his face over half a century later turning him into a literal Disney villain

That is still the greatest comeback I've ever seen.

[lawbreaker13]

This is the anon from the last two weeks the Jewish Palestine supporter. I still can’t believe you’re actually still falling for this propaganda and it’s actually sad. Firstly did you not see the videos of Israel settlement supporters shouting slurs at people including other Jewish people protesting. Secondly are we going to ignore the fact that yes antisemitism is happening at a large scale but so is anti Palestinian rhetoric as well. Another thing I noticed is how you deny the existence of apartheid in Israel but they literally have segregated roads and more not to mention https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2022/02/israels-system-of-apartheid/ https://www.hrw.org/report/2021/04/27/threshold-crossed/israeli-authorities-and-crimes-apartheid-and-persecution not to mention there’s actual videos of Palestinians and even other Muslims going to the settlement and getting discriminated against. Also again are we ignoring the video evidence of people going out of their way to be violent to protestors wanting change and then cutting videos to make it look like they’re the aggressors. I’m sorry your family is experiencing antisemitism but to act like you’re getting worse than the people overseas is highly narcissistic too, seriously did we just forget the other atrocities Israel has done¿

NO ONE SAID WORSE. NO ONE SAID PALESTINIANS ARE IN A GOOD PLACE RIGHT NOW. WHY ARE YOU “OKAY, BUT”-ING THE DEATH THREATS THAT I AM RECEIVING FOR BEING BORN A JEW?

Segregated roads do not exist in Israel. Are you talking about the Jerusalem quarters? The place in the center of Jerusalem that has designated areas of history, food, and prayer for Muslims, Jews, Christians, and Armenians? That’s not segregated nor is it exclusive. Or are you talking about some single individual person who is racist and for some reason represents the entire country of Israel?

It is not just my family experiencing antisemitism. It’s people I knew in high school who have been run off their campuses and forced to finish their semesters remotely. It’s the Columbia student who was stabbed with a Palestinian flag and the other Columbia student whose room was set on fire. It’s converts I know who were murdered.

Why are YOU ignoring the video and photographic evidence of people saying “Hitler was right,” “death 2 Jews,” and “kill Jews,” all supposedly in the name of Palestine? Did YOU not see the video of the protestors chanting about, and I quote, “murdering all Zionists?” Do you know how many Jews would die if we murdered all the Zionists? 13.5 million. But I guess it’s ok because you would be spared, right?

What makes you so immune to propaganda? When was the last time you actively sought out a conversation with someone with a differing opinion from yours? And listened? And attempted to learn? And allowed your perspective to be altered?

And stop telling me this is overseas. To YOU, this is a faraway land overseas. This is not overseas to me. This is where my family lives. This is a place I have been and explored on my own and with others, Jews, Muslims, and Christians. You have never seen the conflict firsthand. All the more reason you shouldn’t be speaking about it.

I receive SO much more sympathy from actual Palestinians than I ever do from “activists.” Crazy concept. Stop calling everyone liars, and let people speak for themselves.

Why are you hiding behind anon?