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imagitory · 4 years

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Hi! So I’m a Gen z just barely sticking my toes into the world of politics and I am soooo confused. What’s wrong with healthcare? Don’t Canada, Britain and France have it? Does it mess up their government or something? And I was also wondering about Bush and Obama. I was too young when Bush was president, so why do a lot of people dislike him? What did he do? And why do people hate Obama? I don’t agree with all he did, but... Didn’t he save us from another Great Depression?

Oh gosh! Well, I’d be happy to try to help a little...though of course all of this will be colored with my own left-leaning attitude, politics, and recollections, so please make sure to do some research about these topics on your own too, so you can make your own conclusions. (I would highly suggest not going to Fox News or OAN as a source, myself.) And naturally, if anyone disagrees with me...well, we still live in a free country for the foreseeable future.

What’s wrong with healthcare? Don’t Canada, Britain and France have it? Does it mess up their government or something?

By this, I believe you’re discussing universal healthcare, and yes, they do. Frankly I think it’s stupid that we Americans are so adverse to the idea, but it largely comes back to the “Boogieman” of socialism. Ever since the Cold War in the 1950′s-1980′s, socialism and its much more dysfunctional political cousin communism have been treated as if they were 1, the same (which they are not -- socialism is a economic system, while communism is a political system), and 2, the work of the Devil. This is largely because communism was promoted by the Soviet Union (now Russia), which was our enemy during the Cold War, as an alternative to democracy, which of course we Americans see as inherently saintly. The backlash against socialism due to our fear of communism sparked a LOT of persecution in this country by figures like Joseph McCarthy, who engineered a series of real-life “witch hunts” (not like the kind that our Orangutan-in-Chief likes to rant about) that targeted any “political dissidents” and destroyed many careers and lives. There’s a reason Arthur Miller based his play “The Crucible,” about the Salem Witch Trials on McCarthy’s reign of terror.

But yes, to put it very simply, the whole reason why Americans supposedly can’t have good government healthcare like so many of our allies do is because we’re terrified of giving our government too much power...even though we have socialized medicine already in the form of Medicare and Medicaid. But don’t tell our precious senior citizens who voted Trump that. *rolls eyes*

I was too young when Bush was president, so why do a lot of people dislike him? What did he do?

Oh boy, where do I start...?

Well, first of all, to understand George W. Bush, you have to understand something about his father, George Bush, who was president before Bill Clinton, who likewise was president before W. While Bush, Sr. was in office, the country of Iraq invaded the smaller country of Kuwait, which is one of our main sources of oil. In retaliation, America engaged Iraq in combat to “protect” our reserves in Kuwait. The mission was basically successful, with Iraq leaving Kuwait, but tensions rose between America and Iraq’s leader, Saddam Hussein. There were war hawks at the time in this country who advocated the forceful removal of Hussein, but since Bush, Sr. was out of office and replaced by Clinton, those people were largely dismissed.

Then along comes George W. and 9/11, and suddenly we’re put in a position where America has been attacked by a terrorist organization from the Middle East. George W. Bush’s administration -- who was very good friends with the ACTUAL place where most of these terrorists were from, Saudi Arabia -- decided to use the 9/11 attacks as an excuse to invade both Afghanistan and Iraq. The Bush administration, largely fueled by Bush’s cabinet members like John Ashcroft and Donald Rumsfeld, lied to the American people time and again, justifying them going after the Taliban in Afghanistan and Saddam Hussein in Iraq as them “protecting America” from terrorism and, in Iraq’s case, supposedly from their “huge stores” of Weapons of Mass Destruction, which in truth didn’t even exist. This isn’t even touching on Bush’s horrific response to Hurricane Katrina. He responded to the extensive damage in New Orleans with little financial aid, which a lot of people blamed on the fact that those areas were poor and largely black, and therefore not something the Republican president cared about. Oh yeah, and then as you mentioned, we ended up in a financial crisis on par with the Great Depression thanks to old W. and his overly favorable treatment of corporations, as well as his overly inflated military budget, which made companies that he and Vice President Cheney had a lot of stock in (like Halliburton) very, very rich.

So yeah -- I’d say I and many others have very good reason to dislike George W. Bush.

And why do people hate Obama? I don’t agree with all he did, but... Didn’t he save us from another Great Depression?

He’s black.

No, really, that’s why! Although yes, I will never say that Barack Obama was a perfect president, he was easily better than average, particularly compared to what we had previously and especially what we have now. And yet from the start, the Republican establishment has loathed Obama beyond all logical reason, and the only substantial reason that makes sense is that he was a well-educated, well-spoken, likable, and thoroughly unoffensive and non-polarizing Democratic black man. They could not intimidate him, no matter how hard they tried. They could not bribe or manipulate him, no matter how hard they tried. They could not demonize him, no matter how hard they tried. They could not get him out of power, no matter how hard they tried. They could not rid him of his popularity the way they had Bill Clinton, no matter how hard they tried. And that only served to make them fear and hate Obama more. I wholeheartedly believe that the reason the Neo-Nazis (oh, I’m sorry, “alt-right” *coughs sarcastically*) have come out in full once again is because of the fear of evil, racist people in response to someone like Obama being given power.

...Um...hope this helps? XD;

#aaaaaand cue the angry anons flooding my inbox with flames...#excuse me politics coming through #ask me #opinion #oh boy here i go #george w. bush #barack obama #healthcare #george bush #united states #seriously though people I'm just answering this person with my personal opinion and politics here #I'm not trying to start a fight #it's christmas ffs #*tired sigh*

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck Part 15/? - Body Snatchers Part 16/? - Out of the Frying Pan Part 17/? - A Miracle Part 18/? - A Matter of Circumstance

A chapter for anybody who’s been wondering just what Lake’s deal is.

It was dark by now. Peggy headed out on the deck, and got a blast of icy-cold air in the face. They were moving west, back towards American waters, and it made Peggy wonder if the Canadians even knew they were up here. In the darkness and wind there was nobody else on deck except the essential staff. All she had to do was find somewhere sheltered.

The wind was from the west, so Peggy went around behind the ship’s superstructure. One of the lifeboats was in need of repairs and had been lashed to the deck there, keel-up, so men could work on it. Between it and the superstructure was a nice little triangle that was out of the wind and away from prying eyes. With the ship and the sea drown out the noise, Peggy leaned against the wall and bawled.

Steve was alive! He was alive and awake and solid and real. All this time Peggy had been mourning his loss, trying to get over this beautiful brave fool of a man she’d once hoped to build a life with, he’d been up there in the ice waiting to be found! The moment she’d seen his eyes open, all the work she’d put into moving on had been utterly wasted because there he was. She was overjoyed at the same time as… what was she going to do?

Peggy loved Daniel. He understood her. Their relationship was based on working together in peacetime on a very different set of problems… that was something she would have had to build from the ground up with Steve and three years ago she’d been ready to do it, even looking forward to it, but now? Steve didn’t even know the time had passed. He might think they could still make their date at the Stork Club. Somebody was probably telling him about it right now. What would he think? Would he wonder why Peggy hadn’t told him herself?

Was she going to have to break his heart? Was she going to have to break Daniel’s? What about her own? And was she really so bloody selfish that at a time when Steve’s return was going to mean so much to so many people, people like Daniel and Lieutenant Harbottle who’d never felt they got to properly thank him, she was thinking about this?

The answer to that last question was yes. Yes, she absolutely was, damn her.

Hot tears slid down her face and froze to her cheeks, and her sobs mixed with the arctic wind and flew away across the sea on it. For what seemed like half the night, she felt like she might never be able to stop. Her head began to ache, her nose ran, her throat went sore… Steve was in there waiting for her to come back and she was going to look the ugliest she had in her life…

Then, at last, she ran out of tears. For a moment she stayed perfectly still, just listening to the wind… and then she heard the sound of somebody singing.

Perhaps she’d imagined it. Over the creak of the ship and the sound of her own shuddering breaths, how could Peggy have heard anything else? But there it was again, and after a moment of straining her ears, she realized it was coming from underneath the upturned lifeboat. She knelt down for a look. It was very dark under the boat, but once her eyes adjusted, she made out the shape of a woman lying on the deck, curled around a life vest she had clutched to her middle and singing softly to herself.

“And if I’m flying solo, at least I’m flying free,” she sang, slow and shaky. Peggy did not know the song, but she could tell it was off-key. “To those who’d ground me, take a message back for me…”

“Kay?” Peggy asked.

Kay opened her eyes. They were red-rimmed, and her cheeks were stained with tears.

“Are you all right?” Peggy wanted to know.

“I’m fine,” said Kay hoarsely.

“No, you aren’t,” said Peggy.

“If you already knew that, then why did you ask?” Kay rolled over to face away from her.

Peggy spent a moment wondering if she ought to say something more, then decided no. She’d never gotten a straight answer from Kay yet, and this was not the time to try. She should go in and wash her face, and see if she could talk to Steve without bursting into tears all over again. Peggy stood up.

“Don’t go,” said Kay.

Peggy knelt down again. “Why not?” she asked.

Kay was still lying with her back to Peggy, and did not move to change that. “Life’s not fair,” she said.

“No. No, it’s not,” Peggy agreed. It never was.

“Have you ever noticed that nobody ever says that like it’s a bad thing?” Kay asked. She sniffled, and Peggy saw an arm move to wipe her nose on her sleeve. “It’s just the way it is. We’re not supposed to try to change it.”

“Yes. The people who say life’s not fair are the ones who have some advantage they want to press,” Peggy agreed. “Whether it’s a parent to a child, a boss to an employee, or…” she could think of other examples, but they hit a little too close to home. “Or Steve’s lady friend, talking to the woman who risked her life for him even though he doesn’t even know who she is?”

This time, Kay did roll over. “Who do you think I am, Peggy?” she asked.

Peggy’s heart started beating a little faster. For all she’d just had a very personal breakdown, there was enough professional left in her to know that this might be her only chance to learn something very important. She was not sure how she felt about Kay – they certainly weren’t friends, but after what had happened today, could they really be enemies anymore? – but she could use this emotional moment to get some kind of truth from her. The question was whether she would hate herself for it later.

“Can we talk about this indoors?” Peggy asked.

Kay uncurled a little from the life vest she’d been crying into, but she did so in defeat, not because she wanted to open up. “You want me somewhere you can record me.”

“No,” Peggy backtracked. “I want you somewhere we can both wash our faces and have something hot to drink, because we’re cried out and it’s brass monkeys out here.”

“It’s okay. I’d do the same thing,” said Kay.

She squirmed out from under the boat and Peggy helped her stand, and they both stumbled back inside and found a washroom. On a navy ship all of these, except the one for the nurses, were supposed to be men only, but most of the sailors who came in and saw the two of them washing up just turned around and left again – and the ones who stayed politely decided to use the stalls. Peggy and Kay were still red-eyed and miserable as they went to the mess hall, but Peggy at least felt a little more presentable. She got them each a mug of tea, and they went to a little table in the corner, far from anyone else present at this hour.

By the time they got there, she had settled on how she was going to answer Kay’s question. Peggy gave the other woman her tea, and then said, “I think you definitely came from the same place as Olga Barynova,” she said, “and I think you may have been telling the truth when you said they sent you here to find her. But I also think you have your own agenda, which your superiors may not approve of. What that has to do with Steve I’m not sure.”

Kay shook her head. “Nobody sent me. I came here on my own. I…” she took a deep breath. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so I thought I’d let you figure it out on your own, but I don’t care anymore. I’m a time traveler. I’m from the future. I’m here to fix it.”

That was not an answer Peggy had been prepared for, and her instinctive reaction was that it had to be nonsense. Yet… hadn’t she seen stranger things? She’d seen tiny Steve Rogers transformed into Captain America. She’d seen the awesome technology of the Valkyrie, a plane the size of this aircraft carrier roaring into the sky as if it weighed nothing at all. She’d seen the unbelievable power of the tesseract, the bizarre properties of the Zero Matter, and the corpse of a giant her superiors thought must have come from outer space. Who was Peggy Carter to say that time travel was impossible?

“Tell me more,” she said.

“I was born in 1984,” said Kay, “and you’re right, the Red Room got me… but the Soviet Union collapsed when I was still a child, so they began using us as assassins and spies for hire instead. The controls weren’t as tight as they used to be, and eventually I went rogue. The organization the SSR evolved into sent a man to kill me, but he…” She looked up at Peggy, and seemed to arrange her words carefully before she continued. “I guess he thought I was worth more alive. So I ended up working for them instead. I was with the group who found Steve in the arctic in 2012.”

Peggy had been thinking that recruiting somebody like Dottie sounded far too dangerous to her, but that number brought her train of thought up short. Twenty-twelve didn’t even sound like a real year. It was the sort of far-flung future one saw in serials where people regularly rode rocket ships into space. “And he was still alive?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Kay. “When I met him, when they thawed him out – they let it take a few days, so he recovered better than he did today – he was so lost. Everybody he knew was dead and the whole world had changed, but somehow they expected him to just get back into it and be Captain America again. And he did, because he didn’t know what else to do.”

Peggy could just picture it… poor Steve, wandering in a world like something out of one of Howard’s fantasies, all flying cars and cities on the moon. Not in itself a terrible future, but not one anyone wanted to see alone.

But apparently it was a terrible future, because Kay went on: “by that time, people like Zola meant that HYDRA had completely permeated the United States government. You almost couldn’t get it out without tearing the whole thing down. Steve and I found out about it and exposed it, but it was a horrible mess. People looked back on the last sixty years and realized there were so many wars that didn’t need to happen and people who didn’t need to die.”

When talking about the death of Zola, Peggy recalled, Kay had sounded like the murder had been very personal to her. There was more than that, though: “were you in love with him?” Peggy asked.

“Love is for children,” said Kay. “Captain Rogers was my friend. We worked together for years. He missed you. He missed Barnes, he missed Stark. Finding HYDRA was still active made him feel like he’d sacrificed himself in that plane wreck for nothing. There are so many things he would not have stood for, but those won’t happen now.” She sat up a little straighter. “Because Zola is dead and Steve is alive, and the future is going to be better.”

Peggy didn’t know if she believed a word of that… but it was certainly a compelling idea, and she couldn’t deny the reality of the two facts Kay had just stated. Zola was dead, and Steve was alive. And if the other things she’d said were true, then the future was going to be… perhaps not necessarily better, but certainly very different.

He was my friend. That was why she’d been crying, because he’d woken up and looked at her and said who are you? If he’d done the same to Peggy, she didn’t know that she would have been able to just keep smiling as Kay had.

“What are you going to do next?” Peggy asked.

“I’ve got a list,” said Kay. “There are some more like Zola who have to go, and the Red Room, but we’re not talking about people who keep their records for seventy years. I need information, and to get it I think I need Barynova.”

“Then why run off to follow me?” Peggy wanted to know. “Why not stay in New York where they’re working on that?”

Kay gave an uneasy shrug. “I just felt like I should be here.”

Peggy supposed she ought not to argue with that. If not for Kay, Steve would be either on a dissecting table or burned alive in the boiler room, and Peggy would never even know she’d killed him. The thought made her shudder.

“What’s your real name?” she asked.

“Natalia Alianova Romanova,” was the reply. “If I had any friends they’d call me Natasha. Or just Nat. But don’t call me that,” Kay added firmly. “I don’t want that name getting into the history books later. I don’t want anyone ever knowing this wasn’t the way history was originally supposed to go.”

“Because you don’t want anyone trying to put it back,” Peggy said.

“That’s right.” Kay heaved a shuddering sigh, as if she might start crying again, but she did not. “Do you believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Peggy replied, with complete honesty. “But you did lead me to him, so… thank you for that.” Even if Peggy had no idea what she was going to do about it.

“You’re welcome,” said Kay. “You were the love of his life.”

“He was mine, too,” Peggy said, and wondered what Kay would think of the problem that presented her with. Did she know something else about Peggy’s own future that Peggy did not? Was she destined to be unhappy in marriage? Or had she even thought about it at all? Maybe Peggy was only here because Kay expected her to play her role in Steve’s future, and had never considered that Peggy might have developed other plans in the meantime.

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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talabib · 3 years

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How To Develop The Five Traits Th at Are Crucial To Success.

In 2001, at the age of 23, when she was broke and unemployed, Kim Perell identified three overarching goals that she wanted to achieve in her life: to have freedom, to be her own boss and to control her own destiny. Just seven years later, in 2008, she was a multimillionaire who had sold her first company for $30 million.

Having achieved her goals, she decided that she wanted to help other entrepreneurs achieve them as well. To that end, she became an angel investor – a person who provides investment capital to start-up companies. In the course of investing in more than 70 companies, she has observed that the crucial factor that turns entrepreneurial dreams into successful realities is the ability to execute – to carry out a plan of action.

This execution factor, in turn, depends on five traits, all of which can be developed by anyone willing to put in the work. Lets explore the five traits of execution – taking each in turn, explaining some general principles to deepen your understanding of them and then discussing some specific, practical techniques for mastering them.

Having a vision provides you with guidance on your journey to success.

In 1961, at the height of the Cold War, the United States found itself falling behind the Soviet Union in the space race. The Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin had become the first human to reach outer space, beating the United States to that accomplishment. So to spur his country into action, President John F. Kennedy made a bold proclamation: by the end of the decade, the United States would land an American astronaut on the Moon.

In making this proclamation, Kennedy was articulating a vision – an ambitious, visualizable and inspiring aspiration for the future. Having a vision is the first trait of effective execution. In Kennedy’s case, it was a vision for an entire nation, but you, too, can have visions for yourself, your career or the company you’re working for or want to start.

Bringing our analogies back down to earth, while still keeping an eye on the heavens above, you can think of your vision as being akin to the North Star that once helped sailors navigate the seas. Like that celestial body, a vision provides you with a reference point that can help you navigate life’s choppy waters and unexpected waves.

Those “waves” are the events, setbacks and competing pressures that can distract you from pursuing your dreams. By keeping your mind’s eye fixed on your vision, you can stay focused on your life’s work and maintain your direction toward your desired destination, even during tough times.

That destination is the future you envision for yourself. It can take many forms. It could be a purpose you give to your life, such as having a positive impact on the environment. It could be a vocation, like cooking. Or it could be a personal goal, like purchasing a home, starting a business or completing a marathon.

Whatever your destination, you will likely find yourself taken in unexpected directions as you pursue your vision, especially if it involves a more general goal that can be achieved in various ways, such as financial freedom. For instance, kim’s first business was a digital-marketing company that sold a motley assortment of products – ranging from teeth whiteners to remote-control toys.

Was this the precise future she envisioned for herself when she was younger? Of course not – but it was part of the path that led her to achieve financial freedom. You’ll never know exactly where your vision will take you until you get there!

To have an effective vision, you need to make sure it’s clear, compelling, meaningful and pertinent to you.

If you don’t already have one, how do you develop a vision for yourself? Well, most of us have ideas about things we might want to do or achieve some day. These ideas provide us with the raw material for a grand vision – but to turn those little sparks of imagination into a guiding North Star, we need to refine them. For starters, all visions have four qualities.

The first quality is clarity. You should be able to clearly articulate your vision in a single sentence, and, in your mind’s eye, you should be able to clearly see it coming to fruition. If you can’t do either of these things, then go back to the drawing board and refine your vision.

Now, achieving clarity might seem easy, especially if your vision involves a specific goal or vocation, such as having financial freedom or running a food truck. After all, can’t anyone picture herself flush with cash or cooking curbside?

Here’s the thing, though: to really achieve clarity, your imagination must be specific. For instance, for running a food truck, picture not just a vague, general image of wearing a chef’s hat and frying food, but a gritty, detailed image of working during mealtime hours, ordering workers around, dealing with disgruntled customers and so forth. In other words, you must ask yourself and honestly answer the question, “Could I really see myself doing this?”

That brings us to the other three characteristics of a viable vision, each of which is related and has to do with whether a vision is an authentic expression of yourself. To be such an expression, a vision should be compelling, meaningful and pertinent to you – in other words, it should fit your values, preferences, desires and personality.

Visions that fall short of these criteria are often expressions of other people’s visions for you. Consider Darren – a maintenance manager of a hospital who was renowned among his friends and colleagues for the chili he made. They kept telling him that he should start a food truck to profit off his chili. He wasn’t really interested, but their suggestion stuck in his head.

He ended up quitting his job and starting a food truck – only to find it made him miserable. He liked cooking for friends and colleagues; he didn’t like cooking for strangers.

To confirm and pursue your vision, you should test it out, visualize it, remind yourself of it and prioritize it.

How do you avoid pursuing a vision that’s at odds with who you really are? How do you make sure your vision is really your vision, and not someone else’s vision for you?

One way is to test out your vision on a smaller scale, before you fully commit. For example, if you enjoy cooking for your friends and were thinking about starting a food truck, you could try participating in a cook-off contest. That way, you’d gain a relatively risk-free experience of cooking for strangers, which may feel very different than cooking for friends.

You might love it, or you might hate it. If the latter turns out to be true, that might be disappointing – but better to find out by entering a one-time, no-stakes contest than by quitting your job and investing in a food truck!

Now, once you’ve determined that your vision truly is in line with who you are, the next step is to stay focused on it. The more vivid your image of the future is, the easier it will be to focus on it, so one thing to do is to visualize it in concrete, evocative detail.

Here’s a trick for doing this: picture yourself having already achieved your vision. What do you see? Ask yourself specific questions to generate specific answers. For instance, if your vision is starting a business, what does your workplace look like? What kinds of people comprise your team of workers? What do you see yourself doing on a day-to-day basis?

To remind yourself about your vision, write it down in a place where you’ll see it every day, such as your bathroom mirror. Then, keep it in mind as you plan your day. Make sure you’re pursuing and prioritizing tasks that provide stepping stones to achieve your vision. After all, you can cross off every item on your to-do list, but it won’t bring you one step closer to your overarching goal if they’re not related to it!

Prioritizing tasks that are related to achieving your vision may entail de-prioritizing or even outright avoiding other activities that you enjoy, especially those that are totally optional, such as watching television. After all, time is a finite resource, so to ensure you devote enough of it to working toward your vision, you have to be selective about the ways you spend it.

Passion provides you with the emotional energy you need to make the sacrifices that success requires.

By defining your vision, you’ve answered the question, “What do you want to execute?” Now the question becomes, “How do you execute it?” This brings us to the second trait of effective execution, which is passion.

When you hear that word, the first thing that probably comes to mind is a strong, enthusiastic emotion, as in the sentence, “John has a passion for marketing.” However, that’s only one sense of the term; there’s another sense that’s also relevant here. It goes back to the etymology of “passion,” which derives from the Latin word pati, meaning “to suffer or endure.”

In this sense of the term, passion is not just about doing things fervently because you love doing them; it’s about loving them so much that you’re willing to undergo hardship and make sacrifices for them.

Such willingness is the true test of passion. For instance, when Kim was a girl, she wanted to ride horses so badly that she agreed to clean out a horse owner’s stables in exchange for lessons. In other words, her passion for horseback riding was so strong that she was willing to scoop up horse excrement to pursue it!

Why is passion in this sense so important? Well, unless you narrowly define success as just making money and you luck out by winning the lottery, there are no easy shortcuts to achieving it. There will inevitably be hard work, stressful events and inconveniences, such as taking conference calls when you’re sick, missing social engagements for business trips or putting personal finances on the line.

If you want to succeed, you can’t avoid making sacrifices like these; all you can do is be willing to endure them – and that willingness comes from passion. Your passion provides you with the emotional energy you’ll need in order to power through the long workdays and sleepless nights that lie ahead of you on your journey toward success.

It’s also an important factor in finding other people to help you on your journey. By demonstrating a willingness to make sacrifices for your cause, you can position yourself as an inspiring leader to your colleagues or employees. Asking whether potential or current colleagues or employees share your passion can also help you to choose the people you associate with.

You need to identify, feed and prioritize your passion to fully benefit from it.

To tap into the power of passion, you first have to know what you’re passionate about. If you don’t already have a clear conception of this, ask yourself the following: What do you love so much that you’d be willing to make significant sacrifices for it?

Maybe it’s a subject, such as fashion or animals. Maybe it’s a skill or activity, such as writing or painting. Or perhaps it’s a role, such as being a teacher or a caretaker.

Whatever it is, here’s your next question: What are you doing on a regular basis that’s feeding your passion? If the answer is nothing, the next step is to change that!

You can start small. The idea is just to get your feet wet and do something – anything – to become more connected to your passion. For instance, if it were fashion, you wouldn’t have to go out and become a designer right away; you could just start a fashion blog!

However, you won’t be able to write even a single blog post or take any other small steps toward feeding your passion if you don’t make time for it. As with your vision, you have to prioritize your passion and carve out a space for it in your schedule.

And that means making trade-offs. To accomplish tasks that are related to your passion, you’ll have to sacrifice tasks that aren’t related to it. That may require declining invitations to social engagements, such as parties and dinners, which may be scheduled at times that conflict with your pursuit of your passion.

To mitigate the disappointment of your friends, colleagues or family members, you should communicate to them the rationale behind your absences. You can also compensate them for those absences by offering alternatives, such as one-on-one meetings or small group get-togethers, which you can schedule around your pursuit of your passion.

While you pursue it, you can further encourage your passion by celebrating your successes, both big and small. For instance, when one of kim’s companies achieved its first month of earning $1 million in revenue, she celebrated by taking her entire team to Las Vegas!

That’s an example of celebrating a huge accomplishment in a big way – but small victories, such as closing a business deal, deserve small celebrations, too. Try literally feeding your passion by treating yourself or your team to a dinner!

When beginning to pursue your vision, the key is to act by taking a small first step.

Once you’ve found your vision and your passion, you’re like a driver with a destination in your mind and a full tank of gas in your car. You’re ready to head out – but you won’t actually go anywhere until you put your foot down on the accelerator pedal.

That’s the third trait of effective execution: action. Suffice it to say that no one ever accomplished anything without taking action, which, in this context, means doing something that takes you closer to following your passion and achieving your vision.

Assuming you’ve been able to articulate your vision and are ready to take action, the first question you’re going to face is, “Where do I begin?” After all, there are many possible paths of action you can take. Which one do you choose?

Well, don’t overthink it. Otherwise, you could find yourself stuck in analysis paralysis, which is the condition that occurs when you get so caught up in mulling over your options and all of their possible ramifications that you become overwhelmed, leading to inaction.

Just do something. Move forward. You don’t need to commit to any particular path at this point; just pick one of them and take a first step. You can still reassess, change direction or even back out before you proceed further, so there’s no need to overanalyze.

But that’s not to say you should act thoughtlessly. Remember, it’s just a step you’re taking here – not a leap. Don’t quit your job and put your livelihood on the line. Instead, keep your current job while turning your vision and passion into a side hustle.

Consider Stacey. She worked in corporate finance, but her true passion was health and wellness. From this passion, she developed a vision: starting a juice company.

But she didn’t quit her job, tap into her savings and jump straight into the high-risk enterprise of establishing a new business. Instead, she took a safer, smaller first step: selling juice at a farmer’s market on the weekends.

This way, she could get a better sense of whether she enjoyed the work of selling juice and whether there was a market for her product.

Progress toward achieving your vision requires forward movement coupled with a daily review process.

What comes after you take your first step of action toward following your passion and achieving your vision? Well, this might sound glib, but the answer is pretty simple: after your first step comes your second step – and then your third step, your fourth step and so forth!

Obvious as this may be, it does bring up a less obvious consideration that’s important to bear in mind: your first step may be a great success – but to keep moving toward your vision, you have to, well, keep moving. If you just keep taking the same step over and over again, you’re not going to get anywhere.

The same logic applies to the second step and every step after that. At every step along the way, you need to keep moving forward to make progress.

Apple provides a vivid example of the importance of continuing to move forward. Apple is one of the top brands in the world, but its success didn’t hinge on being the first company to develop technologies such as MP3 players and smartphones. Other companies beat them to those innovations.

Rather, Apple took these preexisting technologies and relentlessly innovated them. The company never rested on its laurels; it didn’t let itself get too comfortable in any particular step along the way of its journey. After developing the first iPhone and iPod, it went straight on to developing their follow-ups – and then the follow-ups to the follow-ups, and so forth.

However, while moving forward is crucial to success, it’s also a double-edged sword. If you’re heading in the right direction, it will get you closer to achieving your vision – but, by the same token, if you’re heading in the wrong direction, it will take you further away.

To avoid the latter prospect, it’s important to create and implement a daily review process. First, write down a list of all of the actions you took today that were related to your vision. Did they really align with your vision? Did they really take you closer to achieving it? Are they feeding your passion? What direction are they taking you – and is that in a direction you still want to go?

If the answer to any of these questions is no, then it’s time to reassess what you’re doing and change your course of action!

Resilience is the trait that can help you withstand and even benefit from challenges and setbacks.

The fourth trait of effective execution involves another word with two meanings: resilience.

Here’s the first meaning: if someone or something is resilient, that means that he, she or it can withstand the turbulent winds of fate. For instance, if a building can weather the literal winds of a hurricane, it would be labeled as resilient.

But in another sense of the term, a resilient person not only withstands the winds of fate, but also harnesses them to the best of her ability – as a sailor does with her sails. She knows that while she can’t control the direction of the wind, she can control the direction in which she points her sails.

The uncooperative “wind” in this metaphor stands for the challenges, crises and setbacks that the world may throw your way when you’re pursuing your vision. If you’re resilient in both senses of the word, you’ll not only take these difficulties in stride; you’ll also respond to them in ways that lead to growth.

And one of the main ways that you can do that is by staying positive, as well as hopeful and hungry for new opportunities. That was one of the keys to billionaire Elon Musk’s bumpy road to success.

Today, you may know him as the successful CEO of Tesla and SpaceX, and a cofounder of PayPal. But before he succeeded, he faced many setbacks. His first business idea for PayPal floundered, and some of his SpaceX rockets literally went up in smoke. But he didn’t give up; he kept trying to succeed – and eventually, PayPal and his SpaceX rockets took off, literally and figuratively.

That’s an example of resiliency in the sense of withstanding setbacks. But Elon Musk also provides an example of resiliency in the other sense of the term: not just withstanding setbacks, but also growing from them.

For instance, in 2017, when reports came out about the high rate of injury at his Tesla factory in Fremont, Musk made some unusual public pledges to his employees. One of them was that he would have one-on-one meetings with injured workers to learn about problems on the factory’s production line. Not only that, he would then perform their tasks himself to experience those problems firsthand. Thus, he turned the problems into a learning opportunity.

You can develop your resiliency by taking care of yourself emotionally and looking for opportunities to exercise it.

So how do you become more resilient? Well, you can think of your resiliency as a mental muscle – something that, just like a physical muscle, can be developed with exercise.

But first, it helps to stretch and relax the muscle. That means taking care of yourself emotionally, so you can alleviate your stress, anxiety and fear. This will allow you to be calmer in the face of adversity, which will help you make better decisions.

Simple ways to do this include physical exercise, meditation, journaling, creating an action plan and talking things out with a friend or mentor. In the aftermath of situations that destabilize your mind with negative emotions, these activities can help you to restabilize.

In a similar vein, you can also reconnect to aspects of your life that have a stabilizing effect on you. For example, even in the midst of professional turmoil, you can find a sense of calm when playing with your children.

So those are some ways you can stretch and relax your resiliency muscle. Now let’s look at the exercise part.

One beneficial technique is to turn everyday setbacks into opportunities for exercise. For instance, Sara once bought tickets to a Guns N’ Roses stadium concert for herself and a group of 20 colleagues. She thought it would be a great bonding experience. There was just one problem: it turned out that all of the seats were in different parts of the stadium!

But rather than gnash her teeth at the setback, she decided to turn it into an opportunity for teamwork. She proposed that each member of the group try to trade their seats with a stranger, and then trade that new seat for another seat with a second stranger, and so forth and so on, until they were all sitting together.

Not only did this gambit work, saving their concert experience; it also made that experience even richer than it would have otherwise been. Instead of just rocking out to songs like “Paradise City,” they also got to share a memorable team-building exercise and bonding experience.

So next time a little adversity knocks down your building blocks, see if you can make a game out of rebuilding them into your own “Paradise City”!

Expanding, deepening and maintaining relationships are the key to augmenting your abilities to execute.

The fifth and final trait that leads to effective execution is the most decisive one of all. You can have the clearest, most compelling vision in the world, and you can pursue it with relentless passion, action and resilience – but you’re not going to get very far if you try to do everything alone. You need the help of other people, and that’s what the final trait is all about: relationships.

As the old saying goes, no man (or woman) is an island. All of us have limited time, energy, skills and knowledge. But by pooling these precious resources together, we can expand the range of what we can accomplish.

If someone else lends you some of her time and energy, you’ll have more overall time and energy to expend on pursuing your vision. If someone lends you her skills and knowledge, you can fill in some of the gaps in your own skills and knowledge. And, of course, this goes both ways, leading to the potential for win-win relationships.

The more of these relationships you establish and maintain, and the deeper those relationships become, the more you’ll be able benefit from the power of having other people in your life. It’s therefore crucial to cultivate a network of people with whom you can enjoy win-win relationships.

To expand your network, look for people outside your immediate social vicinity. For example, if you work in a corporate environment, look for people not just outside your team, but also outside your company or even your industry.

To deepen your relationships, take the time to show a sincere interest in getting to know these people better. Don’t just ask routine questions with yes-or-no answers, like “Did you have a good weekend?” Instead, ask deeper, open-ended questions, like “Where do you envision yourself in five years?” or “What’s your passion?”

To maintain your relationships, make a habit of showing people appreciation through nice, thoughtful gestures. Emails saying “thank you” and “congratulations” are one good way of doing this – but handwritten notes are even better, since they feel more personal. And when you have spare moments, such as when you’re driving to work or riding in a taxi, you can use the time to reconnect with people by phone.

Avoid negative relationships, while making reasonable exceptions to this rule.

The ideal relationship is one that’s win-win, where both parties mutually benefit from each other. Sadly, however, many relationships are win-lose or even lose-lose. What’s more, some relationships that were once win-win descend into negative territory.

In light of these facts, experts recommend conducting a periodic life audit of your relationships. Once a year, sit down and review all of your relationships one-by-one, splitting them into two categories.

The first category consists of positive people from whom you received inspiration, support, energy and challenges. The other category consists of negative people from whom you received the opposite effects.

It may sound cold, but then you have to make a conscious decision to distance yourself from the people you placed in the second category. Moving forward, you should spends less time with them or even cuts yourself off from them if need be.

Of course, some issues can be worked through, so you shouldn’t be quick to write people off. You should only place people in the second category if the issues seem intractable, at least for the foreseeable future. In the longer-term future, the person may change, in which case he can be welcomed back into the first category.

You should also recognize that people can become temporarily negative because of difficult experiences, such as illness, the death of a loved one or a job loss. Refrain from placing these people into the negative category, since you know they need the help of your own positivity to pull through to the other side and return to a more positive state of being.

Finally, recognize that in a workplace setting, you can’t just stop talking to a “coworker who has a negative effect on you.” Since you’re stuck working with them, you have to figure out a way of interacting with them to the best of your ability and minimizing the negativity as much as possible.

The point isn’t to eliminate all negativity from your life. That’s impossible. It’s simply to maximize the positivity and minimize the negativity, so that you can put yourself in a position to actively, resiliently and collaboratively pursue your passion and execute your vision so that it becomes a reality.

The execution factor is your ability to carry out plans of action that enable you to achieve your goals. It rests upon five traits: vision, passion, action, resilience and relationships. Each of these traits can be cultivated. Execution is therefore a skill that you can develop, enabling you to put yourself in a position to succeed.

#secret of success

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docsnotes · 3 years

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Views on Cancel Culture, Woke-ness, Political Correctness & Other Related Issues From The Perspective of an Irrelevant Nobody: Why People Think it Helps & Why it Does Not. By Bradley “Holliday” Rozier I had hoped this first post would be a lot more light-hearted, but after an article and the related tweets I read yesterday, I had to write and share this. So, it is roughly November 2017, I decided to join Greenpeace because I felt it would be a great way to put my mind and anxiety to good use. Through the connections I made, I ended up with some really good friends and some people who I thought would be a positive asset to my growth and recovery, but ended up not being so. However, we will get to THAT part later. First I want to say, generally speaking, I am against most everything the “Woke” movement is against, I simply feel that, tactically speaking, it could and should be handled differently.I was born September 9, 1984 at 10 something PM at what was then “University of Florida Medical Center”, but is now called “UF Health Shands” (Named so after William Augustine Shands, fun fact, W. Shands was not a Doctor, but a politician) on 8th street in Jacksonville, Florida. I grew up in culturally and ethnically diverse neighborhood on the northside of town called “Highlands” (named so because it is at a slightly higher elevation than most of the rest of the city) as well as various other places (my biological mother moved, A LOT) so, from an early age, I was presented a multitude of other cultures and backgrounds to embrace and learn from. The most important factor in this point is my Grandmother, Geraldine Rozier, and my Aunt, Donna Ogle. Both of whom drilled two very important lessons. Love your neighbor as yourself. (Mark 12:31) Treat others as you want to be treated. (‎Matthew 7:12) Now, as many of you know, I have particular disdain for organized religion, as more often than not I see it bring out the worst in people, if you doubt my words, wait for the next thing I post. Yet, even I can find value in these teachings. These teachings also come into play with the topic at hand and I feel that this was a necessary preface for what may come out as being exceptionally harsh. I need you to understand: this is all coming from a place of love and compassion, though I understand how this may be hard to believe as this is my first blog post. This morning, as I drank my coffee and smoked my first cigarette of the day, I was reading a Revolver article about Glenn Danzig (who is easily one of my favorite musicians). The article was basically him talking about how punk rock could have never have happened in today’s sociopolitical climate. It received A LOT of hate, but the simple fact is, he was right. Think about this: The Ramones, New York Dolls, The Clash and The Sex Pistols all put out songs that were offencive to some people, however, that was kind of the point. In 1976 the Ramones put out their self titled debut, on this album was a song called “Beat on The Brat” the 6 repeated lines from this song involve beating some annoying kid with a baseball bat. On the 1973 self titled New York Dolls debut there is a track called “Looking For A Kiss” which is about pressuring someone to be intimate with the singer. The Clash, in 1977,again with the self titled debut, has a song called “Protex Blue” which is a song shaming a girl for not being “wholesome” enough. Finally, The Sex Pistols, who’s name alone may be enough to get them cancelled these days, finally straying from the “self titled” trend with their 1977 debut album “Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols” had a song called “God Save the Queen” which was about anything except saving the Queen. In today’s world, these bands would have been stopped dead in their tracks and with them, almost 50 years of other artists. Which brings me to what led me to start this and with it, I hope, a dialogue.

The reason people THINK that cancel culture, woke-ness and political correctness works is because it makes THEM feel warm and fuzzy inside. They got to “stand up” for the “little guy”. The reality is these people do this for themselves and that is what I am going to illustrate in the next part. The first point I want to make, which I almost didn’t because I didn’t want to seem nationalist, is the Freedom of Speech. Now, this is often something people mention when trying to explain how “America is the greatest nation on earth.” However, this is not strictly an American right, Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (United Nations General Assembly Resolution 217A - 10DEC1948 Code-A/RES/3/217A) which was voted for by 48 Nations, and 8 nations abstained1 states that Freedom of Expression as a fundamental human right. So, I say this with the full certainty that it is absolutely imperative that ALL people should be allowed to express themselves.

My second point, it is insanely important that we teach ourselves that reality is sometimes offensive. The world does not walk on eggshells and people will be insensitive, it is a simple fact. Preparing our children (and ourselves) for this fact is a quintessential part of life. Now, it would be great if everyone was nice and perfectly well mannered all the time. If you prepare your children for a flat tire you should prepare them for hurt feelings, conversely, it is also a useful tool in teaching children how they should behave by showing them how they should not act. Using a negative to teach a positive can be a very effective method.

Third, let’s talk about being “woke” which will bring us back to one of the people I met through my Greenpeace affiliation who was a negative influence on my life. I have no desire to smear this person, so I will simply refer to her by her initials D.H. I met her at a coffee shop where we met to discuss racism in general, but, primarily in Jacksonville. Our introduction was uneventful, but informative for me. Over the next few months, we would communicate multiple times and meet up at multiple events. At one point she would call me “one of the most ‘woke’ white guys she ever met” which, at the time, I took as a great compliment. As time would pass we would start to disagree on certain things, mostly things of basic morality. The final straw was when a mutual “friend” of ours decided that it was morally acceptable to lie to someone who was going through a catastrophic period in her life. She made a comment that I completely agreed with in the general context, however in this exact situation it was incorrect. She said “He didn’t owe her anything”, which is correct, except for the fact that he broke a promise. I was raised that if you give your word, you honor it. So, yes, he owed her his word, if not,at least an answer as to why he broke it (which was all she wanted). I mention this to say the biggest problem/misconception with ”woke culture” and it is simply this: Being “woke” does not make you a good person. I also would like to point out that being “woke” 75% of the time does not undo the 25% that you are an asshole.In conclusion, the idea that “wokeness” and Cancel Culture will fix the problems of our society is absolute garbage. I feel that the only way we can actually fix things is with a dialogue, not by simply throwing people out when they say things that we don’t agree with. Alienation is not fixing anything, in fact, I would argue that it makes things worse. It is better to extend a hand than slam a door. Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read this, I hope to see you next time.

1- For (48) - Afghanistan, Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Bolivia, Brazil, Burma, Canada, Chile, China, Colombia, Costa Rica, Cuba, Denmark, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Ethiopia, France, Greece, Guatemala, Haiti, Iceland, India, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Liberia, Luxembourg, Mexico, Netherlands, New Zealand, Nicaragua, Norway, Pakistan, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Philippines, Siam, Sweden, Syria, Turkey, United Kingdom, United States, Uruguay and Venezuela.

Against (0) - Zero

Abstained (8) - Byelorussian SSR, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Saudi Arabia, Ukrainian SSR, South Africa, Soviet Union and Yugoslavia ( artwork is by marisa deroma @marisa_deroma on instagram)

#politically incorrect #cancel culture #woke #politics #law #free speech

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mcgnto · 4 years

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Have you ever noticed that ( ERIK LEHNSHERR ) from the ( MARVEL UNIVERSE ) looks a lot like ( MICHAEL FASSBENDER )? But ( HE ) also go/goes by ( MAGNETO ). Having the ability of ( MAGNETISM MANIPULATION & UNWAVERING LOYALTY TO HIS CAUSE ) sure makes them a force to be reckoned with. Rumour has it they are ( 44 ) and is working as a ( LEADER OF THE BROTHERHOOD OF MUTANTS )

hey there, hi there, ho there !! i’m c, and i’m bringing my babies erik lehnsherr && grant ward to you about 400 years later. life snatched me but here i am finally. i’m terrible at remembering to respond to tumblr messages so if you’d like to plot, you can hit me up @ serial killer of kisses#0440

𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊'𝖘 𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒?

timeline wise, erik is pulled somewhere post days of future past and early into apocalypse. given that the x-men were constantly fucking up their timelines and futures, he’s from an alternate timeline. which one? good question. we’ll pretend we know and just smile and nod. either way, this isn’t his timeline and it definitely isn’t the world / year he left behind so he’s going to be culture-shocked by 2020.

the last thing he really remembers is his daughter’s death and apocalypse strengthening his powers to become a horseman. so suffice to say, he’s simmering with rage and is very broken. he still hates humans, maybe more-so than ever before, and he thinks they’ll always be a plague — never see them as equals — and their extinction is the only way to ensure their kind survives. he’s an extremist and his methods are questionable as hell but he’s not entirely wrong.

this quote, in my opinion, sums up erik to a t:

“ that you're wrong. you think you're right. and that makes you dangerous."

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

erik lehnsherr, also known as magneto, is a canon character from the x-men. my version of him follows the x-men first class timeline. you can read more about him here on the wiki but i’ll give you a brief overview.

he was born in dusseldorf, germany, into a middle-class jewish family. his father was a decorated WWI veteran but that wasn’t enough to save them from the struggles of discrimination when the nazi’s started rising to power. the family moved to poland shortly after he was born but were separated at the auschwitz concentration camps when he was fourteen. erik’s powers first manifested when he ran towards one of the gates — trying to get to it before they closed as he was forced to watch his parents get ripped away from him. the metal warped and twisted as the soldiers grabbed him, reports of which were made to dr. schmidt. instead of being sent out with the other children, erik was taken to the medical wing. his powers were exploited and often used against him, dr. schmidt focusing in on his anger and using it to control his powers. ( his mother died because he couldn’t move a simple coin with his abilities. in grief, fury washing over him, he destroyed everything in the room and murdered all of the guards. ) he was experimented on for years, schmidt weaponizing his anger, and when he was finally free he spent years trying to track down the man responsible for his pain and suffering.

by the time he finds shaw, his intentions are clear. he’ll kill him by any means necessary, even if it means his own death. it’s charles xavier that saves him from drowning in his efforts to sink shaw’s submarine, the professor dragging him up out of the water. though erik never really trusted the CIA, he agreed to help charles with some of the other mutants they’d found — to help them hone their abilities, and give them a place they belonged. he grew to care about charles and these other mutants, respected them even, but his ambitions always came first. he also feared that a mutant holocaust was an inevitability and his fear kept him from truly trusting others. finally, when he confronted shaw, who shared a vision of a world led by mutants, he found he agreed — but he couldn’t allow the man to live. he murdered him slowly, much to charles’ horror. with the soviet union and the united states teaming up against mutants, erik was prepared to kill them all. so much for preventing the cuban missile crisis. as charles and erik were fighting, rolling around on the ground as both tried to get the upper hand, a CIA agent shot at erik and he deflected one of the bullets. a stray bullet ricocheted and hit charles’ spine, paralyzing him. unable to comprehend the pain he’d caused someone he loved — and knowing their interests no longer aligned — erik and several of the other mutants left to start the first incarnation of the brotherhood of mutants. a family was divided like after a messy divorce.

from there, we don’t know a lot about what happened with erik until days of future past picks back up. we know he was arrested and detained in the pentagon by 1973. he allegedly curved a bullet that killed JFK. they break him out of prison to help try and save the world and inadvertently meet his timeline’s version of pietro ‘peter’ maximoff. he’s erik’s son, but he never discovers this information. to this day, he doesn’t know the truth. in truth, erik had been trying to save JFK — who was a mutant — but unfortunately he wasn’t able to. trask, who created the mutant detecting machines in the future, had been killing off mutants one by one. many of their former students, people they cared about, had died as a result of it. tortured, too. so suffice to say, both erik and charles thought the other had abandoned them / failed them and it was messy. he agrees to try and help them stop the future from happening, in the interest of saving more mutant lives, but does try to kill mystique when their plans start going awry. he fails and earns more distrust both from charles and the nation. yes, he went all evil villain and did a monologue on live tv. he’s that bitch. he fully intends on killing trask but mystique, who changes her mind thanks to charles’ influence, shoots him. it grazes his neck, just enough to garner his attention, but it’s enough to give her the opportunity to knock the helmet from his head. in the end, after his abilities are used by charles to free himself, he flees. ya yeet.

at some point after this, he moves to poland and decides to live among the humans. he meets a woman named magda when he’s living as henryk gurzsky and they have a daughter named nina. he’s seemingly happy with his little family, working�� at the factory, until an act of kindness turns the tides against him. he uses his abilities to save a co-worker and someone reports him. police show up without any metal to confront him outside their house. nina, terrified and young much like erik was when his powers manifested, had the power to control nature and had birds attack the police. one of the officers was trying to shoot the birds and an arrow struck nina and her mother magda instead. erik, in his grief, used the metal locket around his daughter’s neck to kill every single police officer in the clearing and then dropped to his knees to mourn the loss of his family.

en sabah nur, aka apocalypse, finds erik shortly after this. he’s at the factory, about to murder all of the workers who allowed this tragedy to happen, when en sabah nur takes his revenge for him. the god then takes him to auschwitz and strengthens his mutant abilities to give him the power needed to destroy it. he agrees to be a horseman, to join en sabah nur in bringing about the apocalypse. shortly after this happens, he goes to sleep and wakes up in this timeline in 2020. he doesn’t know who’s done it, or it was something the x-men did to try and stop the apocalypse, but he’s livid and probably wants to go home. there’s nothing here for him — no revenge, no purpose, so if he can’t ... catch him starting up the brotherhood again and waging war on humankind again.

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

erik carries a lot of anger around with him. it’s the trauma, the grief, and the after-effects of years of abuse. he knows best how to function when he’s angry, feels it gives him direction, and thinks that happiness leads to vulnerability. he thinks now that if he cares for someone, let’s them get close, there’s a possibility he will hurt them or they will get hurt because of them. his abilities work best when he’s angry, almost like he’s been conditioned that way, so he finds he’s most effective when he gives into the anger.

at the end of the day, his hatred is directly linked to fear. he fears that mutants will be persecuted for being different, for not living up to what humans feel is normal, and that they’ll be experimented on or killed if discovered. he’s seen firsthand what a genocide looks like and because of that fears that another will happen if they’re not carefull. again, he’s not wrong.

𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖑𝖙𝖎𝖊𝖘

he’s a class 4 mutant who can generate and manipulate magnetic fields. you can read more about his abilities on the wiki here but i’ll give you some examples.

magnetogenesis: the ability to create magnetic fields. magnetokinesis: the ability to control magnetic fields. ferrokinesis: the ability to control metal. ( thanks to apocalypse, he can now control metals found in the earth. )

#thephoenixintro #tw: canon mentions of child internment / concentration camps #tw: child abuse #tw: experimentation #tw: murder #tw: character death - canon characters #tw: grief #idk man erik's life sucks #general tw for tragedy

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lapetiteaquavita · 5 years

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Rainy autumn evening

Why

Persuaded by @my-dyatlov, I publish my first oneshot in English that I write some time ago. Probably full of errors but I have never written that long work in English, so you must forgive me. I hope it got lost in Tumblr trash (even if @kriegsverlobte it's said it's niy that bad 😳)

Ship: Valery Legasov x reader (yeah 🙈)

Genre: Fluff

It was raining. Drop by drop. Thousands of them were falling on the Moscow’s ground, streets and sidewalks. Water was everywhere making everything wet and as cold as cold were souls of men in charge in Soviet Union. Gray shade of sky was similar to the grayness of city. Except few kitschy decorated buildings painted with flashy colours, most of them were nothing but concrete blocks. Skyscrapers were, are and will be inseparable elements of Moscow’s panorama. Finally, they are the symbols of Soviet power and strength. Many of people hated this city for its corruption, demoralisation or failing ideals of communism but yet you loved this city. Or to be more precisely, you loved a man who was living here for most of his life and this man was Valery Legasov.

He had been holding an umbrella for you until you finally fixed your shoes’ buckles. They can be very disturbing, especially when you wear heels during downpour. Neither you, nor Valery wanted you to die by slipping on the puddle.

When everything was done, you two took another walk in the park that was near to his workplace — The Kurchatov Institute. You have always admired his knowledge about all of these physics and chemistry stuff. It is not that you knew nothing about it, because from the day you’ve met you learned a lot, but Valery was always your ideal of scientist — truthful and with passion for his job.

Green leaves on the trees were replaced by colourful ones — red and yellow. Is it coincidence that in Soviet Union there wasn’t any rotten, brown leaves? That there were only these shades that reminded about the mighty state?

"Do you know why we can see these beautiful red leaves?", asked Valery, stopping next to tree which leaves were in shade of Soviet Union flag.

"Because this is how our brain interprets waves of visible light that are long from 650 to 780 nanometres, am I right?", you answered with a bit of doubts in voice.

"Yes, of course. You are absolutely right!". You could see a little smile was appearing on his face at that moment. He was glad that you tried to understand his job by learning the basics of physics and then these more complicated things. You were sacrificing your free time, after a work as a nurse, to discover all of these theorems and being with him from the moment he came back home after hard day of work in the Institute. Valery couldn't imagine more loyal wife than you.

After a while he continued his walk and you followed him because you didn't want to get wet. Especially that you were wearing a blue polka dot dress Valery bought you last year as a birthday gift. You always appreciated his presents, no matter what they were. He could give you (but he wouldn’t since it’s dangerous) fragment of pure uranium and you would be still pleased. Let’s be honest, Valery was the best present that fate could give you and he was the only thing that matter in your life.

As you were walking along concrete pathway it has started to rain heavier and heavier but wind wasn’t much more lighter. Leaves were dancing above the ground like they weren’t scared of the terrible weather.

“Moy dorogoy, maybe we should go home?”, you suggested. Sound made by wind hurt your ears and was one of the sounds you hate, so you immediately decided about coming back home forgetting about grocery shopping you had to do.

“Yes, I think it’s fantastic idea”, Valery agreed with you even if water wasn’t the most dangerous matter in his life. But he knew that you could get cold and sick and it would real catastrophe for him. That's why he hadn't been waiting any longer, he just started to run with you towards your shared flat. It wasn't big, it wasn't small, just average and yet, it was your kingdom where you were a queen of the greatest king — your lovely Valera.

After rushing through few gray, sorrowful streets you finally reached door of your home and you couldn't be any happier. You, as well as Valery, thought your run would never stop. And even when you two were under plain red umbrella, your clothes were wet as ground outside.

"Chert", Valery cursed when he was undressing his jacket. "Even my shirt is damp, amazing". Irony in his last word was very intense. Maybe he wasn't that type of man who need his clothes to be impeccable, but he still liked them neat and dry.

"Love, don't worry", you gave him a kiss on his cold cheek. "They will dry. Now we have other problems"

"Like?", he asked worried.

"We need to get warm", you said while smile was appearing on your face. "I don't want my darling to be sick".

"Me neither. So what? A bath?" Valery suggested.

"A bath". And then, you two went to the bathroom where white tiles decorated the walls. All damp clothes, that you had on yourselves, were thrown into the basket. While you were washing your makeup off, Valery filled the bathtub with hot water. Sweet scent of strawberry shower gel from East Germany was floating in the air. That created ideal conditions for you two to relax. Normally you didn't bath in that luxury but Valery thought about making this evening more special, as a little gratitude for all your kindness and caring heart you showed him. Even after years, he still couldn't understand why you chosen him, meaning nothing scientist, among a lot of better other men. You also didn't understand that, you just loved him with all your heart.

You loved the warm that radiated from his body every time you hugged him. Also at that moment when you were sitting in the bath with him, you didn't care about washing yourself. You just wanted to cuddle with your lovely Valera. To listen his heartbeat that always calmed you. To just be with him. And all of that happened. You couldn't imagine better man than him.

After a while of sitting without any motion, just letting you to lie on his chest, he started to play with a flock of your hair. He always done that in peaceful moments like this. Valery, if he could, he would lie with you next to him for whole eternity. For him nothing could compare with this. Even promotion on a General Secretary position wouldn't be that satisfying as being with you, watching you smile and hearing your laughter. Sometimes he felt like a young boy who fell in love for a first time, but he didn't care. You were the only one person that kept him on the Earth.

But water was getting more and more cold. When you had got goosebumps he decided to get you out of the tub, dry with a towel and wrap in warm, soft bathrobe since you forgot to bring a pyjama for you.

"Lyubimaya, I will make a tea for us. Wait here patiently for me", he said as he had put you off gently on the bedsheets and then put on his pants to not walk around house naked. You just watched his leaving figure to the kitchen where samovar with fantastic tea stood. This one kind of black tea, that Valery was always buying, was your number one. Any other didn't taste that good, any other didn't remind you about love of your life who after few moments brung you a cup of tea as black as graphite is. But you didn't have will to stand up and drink. Actually you were sailing away to the land of dreams. Dreams of your dearest man.

When Valery noticed that you were nearly sleeping, he just lay down next to you and embraced in tight and warm hug as he wanted to protect you from evil. You were the most valuable person in his life and didn't want to lose you.

"Ya lyublyu tebya, Valera", you had said before falling asleep with a little smile on your face.

"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu".

#chernobyl hbo #chernobyl #valery #valery legasov #legasov #begone #valery legasov x reader #chernobyl fanfic

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arcticdementor · 4 years

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There is, as happens so often these days, a spectre haunting the imagination of the western left. That specter is most commonly dubbed ”strasserism”, though it has other names, such as ”redbrownism”, ”nazbolism”, or more unwieldy names like ”Angela Nagle leftism”. When I came into the left at the beginning of the last decade, these terms did not exist in any meaningful way. As far as me and the people I knew were concerned, ”strasserite” was an incredibly obscure term used exclusively by online neo-nazis is their petty, internicine conflicts. None of us paid them or their silly ideological totems any heed.

At the beginning of the first half of the 2010’s, the left I was a part of was finally starting to feel hopeful again, after the disorientation and loss of direction that came with the fall of actually existing socialism. During the long winter years of the 90’s and early 00’s, people either hopelessly and bitterly clung to a prophecy that everyone else had now fully discarded, or they tried finding new boutique causes to replace the ones that had failed. To take my native Sweden as an example, two of the more significant new causes were opposing the neo-nazis and opposing globalization. There were some victories – or at least, people liked to think so – but the idea of actually achieving political power was dead in everything but name. The left mostly came to accept the role as the social conscience of liberalism, or in the case of antifascism, fancied itself as the Batman protecting end-of-history Gotham City. The streets of triumphant liberal society might have been gritty, the politicians corrupt and undeserving, but antifascist Batman still rose out of bed every night to protect the craven and the low from monsters lurking in the shadows. Or so they liked to think. Most of the time, they just hung out and drank beer.

…

All the details of the intervening decade are beyond the scope of this essay, but it’s fair to say that the left today is more broken and politically defunct than at any point since the fall of the Soviet Union. In fact, a case can be made that the crisis facing the left today is more serious than the crisis of the late 80s and early 90s. ”Left populism” as a political model has failed. Jeremy Corbyn has presided over the worst labour party showing in nearly a century. The ”Sanders moment” is over, and there’s no sequel to any of these failed left projects anywhere in sight. This decline is likely terminal and irreversible, because unlike the decline in the 90s, the left no longer has any significant working class support. In fact, with each new ”left revival” a la Corbyn, the constant bleeding of working class support only seems to accelerate. Comrade Bhaskar at Jacobin magazine touts the (in)famous AOC as the next new great presidential candidate and hope for global socialism, but anyone with an IQ somewhere north of the melting point of water – or at least, anyone who doesn’t have a paper he’s eagerly trying to sell you – knows that this is a truly desperate flight of fancy that will never come to pass, not in a million years.

…

We first begin with the obvious. Strasserism does not actually exist. Nobody reads the Strasser brothers, not even the neo-nazis who threw accusations of strasserism at each other decades before anyone else. Nobody outside of Russia – and for that matter, nobody inside of Russia – cares about the intellectual output of the National Bolshevik party, if such an output were to be shown to exist. The reason the term strasserism has been brought out from the dustbin of history by the contemporary left is because said left is currently in the middle of a social and political panic, and this panic has at least two central functions. Firstly, panics such as these are one way for a group of believers to deal with a situation where prophecy fails. For the left, the only thing it knows today is constant failure. Like any religious cult, the failure of prophecy can only be redeemed by shedding the blood of those members identified as polluting the faith. The price of social cohesion is the turn toward constant purges.

…

Partaking in this ritual of self-depreciation does not mark you as an outsider. It is only if you break the rules of the game, only if you acknowledge the man behind the curtain, only if you point to the basic truth hidden behind this outer layer of ironic self-mockery that you become one of us, one of the so-called strasserites. This truth is a fairly simple marxist truth. Classes have class interests, and so the idea that you could have a political movement – the left – that was well and truly dominated by one class, yet still wholly committed to the class interests of another class, but also just too bumbling and out of touch to ever do a good job of looking out for the class it supposedly ”really” cares about is, to put it extremely mildly, a dubious idea. It is much more likely that a political movement dominated by one class will also be more or less entirely dedicated to pursuing the class interests of that class, while also being unable to take any strong action that goes against the interests of its dominant class.

…

There was a socialism before Marx, and it was utopian and based on human reason and moral progress. There are good reasons for why this brand of socialism fell out of favor, but within its context one can definitely hold the view that a small class of enlightened and educated well-to-do people, acting out of the goodness of their own hearts, will eventually bring about socialism by lifting up the poor, racist and/or stupid proles. You don’t have to agree with it, but it fits together.

A central premise of marxist, materialist or scientific socialism, on the other hand, is that classes simply cannot act this way. Classes pursue their own interests and act politically not out of greed, or generosity, or any other personal bit of sentiment, but due to historical and economical pressures. It is this very simple fact that makes the ”materialism” of someone like Bhaskar Sunkara at Jacobin magazine, and of most leftists of his stripe in general, so incredibly contradictory. For it to work, there has to be an unstated agreement among the faithful to never seriously use the tools of marxist analysis on the left itself. Any and all self-examination must remain on the level of personal discussion (”can person so and so really be a socialist, when her parents are so rich?”). The punishment for transgression against this agreement, for breaking the most sacred code of Omerta the modern left has, is swift and severe: you will get cancelled for this, and you will be added to the ever growing list of ”strasserites” and ”secret nazis” who tried to lure the faithful away from the true path. What happened to Angela Nagle is instructive in this regard; her article, The Left Case Against Open Borders, was an attempt to argue against unrestricted immigration from a class-based, materialist perspective. It’s quite likely – and also quite amusing – that she would probably have recieved less sustained hate online if she had written that immigration shouldn’t be allowed as long as non-white people talk funny and smell bad.

…

I bring my own example up not to relitigate old battles but to underline the point that the sin that earns people the label of ”strasserite” or ”chud” or ”redbrown nazi” has nothing to do with racist animus, or even the issue of immigration more generally. Conjuring up the threat of racism and the ghosts of Nazi Germany is not done because it is true, but because it is necessary. In my case, having a father who came to Sweden to work from central Africa proved to be an embarassing but fairly minor speed bump on the way to declaring me a fighter for aryan blood purity. There is nothing foolish or irrational about any of this; our esteemed comrades are simply doing the only thing they can do, faced with a contradiction they are unable to resolve and a movement that is rapidly falling apart.

…

While I don’t pretend to speak for anyone other than myself, I would claim that the ”strasserite” class-analysis of politics in the west and the role of the left today has a few central features. To start: as the economies in western countries have shifted over the past decades, a new sort of class of people has sprung up and grown in social and political importance. In the united states, the most common name for this class is PMCs; the professional-managerial classes. Their name is less important than their function and political trajectory. To brutally simplify things for the sake of brevity, the notable feature of many PMCs as political actors is a blend of political liberalism and cultural progressivism, merged with a political project aimed at increasingly subsidizing their own reproduction as a class, ideally by means of state transfers. The state should forgive student debt. The state should dabble in reparations. The state should hire ”ideas people” to write up reports and thinkpieces about reparations. The state should create new racial justice commissions, or just generally create more jobs that can employ people who by dint of belonging to this class feel that them taking a job at Walmart means that capitalism has failed and it’s time for a revolution. The most radical, put-upon and economically insecure parts of this class today naturally gravitate toward the left, because the left is – no matter what leftists delude themselves by saying – a fairly focused, competent and credible class project. When Corbyn came out of nowhere and became Labour party leader, it was a real grassroots movement that brought him there; a grassroots movement of students and people who either have ambition to move up the ladder or a legitimate fear of looming proletarianization, of falling down the social and economic ladder and finding themselves joining the proles.

The particular form of ”pro-worker” rhetoric these members of the PMC use mostly boils down to a sort of charity. Vote for us, and we’ll give you higher benefits and free broadband, Labour recently tried to tell the recalcitrant workers of the north. It didn’t work. This mode of ”charity” is hardly selfless – it would be a free ”gift” from these PMC activists given to their precious salt of the earth proletarians, and like all gifts it would be reliant on the goodwill and generosity of the giver. Its main function would also surely be to feather the ever growing number of nests for this class of comfortable, university-educated administrators. And when some leftists start seriously debating why ”racists” should be denied medical care from the NHS, one starts getting a sense of just how much hierarchical domination their future ”worker’s paradise” promises to deliver to the working poor.

The point here is not a moral one. After Labour lost, one exasperated member and activist despaired over how blind the workers were, how easily fooled they were by tory propaganda. ”Don’t they see how evil capitalism is? How brutal and unfair it is?”, this activist wrote: ”I have many friends with good grades who are stuck working at grocery stores, stocking shelves”. Anyone who pretends to be some sort of materialist cannot in good conscience make fun of sentiments like this; it is completely rational for someone in that position to think that ”the evils of capitalism” are somehow laid bare for the world to see when their friends are forced to stock shelves like a common peon in order to pay the rent. That the other workers at the grocery store probably find this way of thinking completely ludicrous and arrogant is obviously besides the point. Politically speaking, the fury and energy that proletarianization engenders should never be underestimated, because it causes political explosions. Jeremy Corbyn successfully challenged the political cartel that had been running Labour on the back of such a political explosion.

We should not make fun of an activist who despairs at the state of the world when good, solid middle class people with solid middle class grades can no longer achieve the middle class lifestyle they were promised. It is however a basic political truth that a worker’s movement consisting of people who are angry at the prospect social and economic ”demotion” – in other words, people who are fighting against the cruel fate of having to become workers – cannot ever succeed. Promising free broadband, or unlimited Space Communism, or some other stupid fantasy world where getting angry at having to work like a normal person is acceptable because nobody has to work won’t really change that.

…

The grand political divide that sundered the house of modern ”socialism” boils down to the question of which class should have its interests taken care of in the first instance. It is all well and good to talk about ”doing both”, or try to soothe workers by saying that once socialism wins, nobody will work, so they’ll all be taken care of then. A century ago Joe Hill mocked the preachers who tried to placate starving workers by promising them there’d be plenty of pie up in the sky after they were all dead. Today, Aaron Bastani does an even more pathetic job within that vaunted political tradition, promising the british working class asteroid mining and fully automated communist holodecks once The Revolution(tm) succeeds. Until that day comes, though, it can’t really be helped that they’ll have to stay under the thumb of – and fight the battles for – the downwardly mobile professionals, huh? After all, who will build all those fancy asteroid miners if little Junior suddenly has to work at Starbucks like a common plebeian?

This is not a question of left incompetence, or Brexit suddenly wrecking everything, or something that Bernie woulda, coulda, shoulda done. The left is bleeding working class support everywhere. The left is picking up support among the more affluent and well-to-do stratas everywhere. The left is merging with greens and liberal ”progressives” everywhere. This is not incompetence, or cowardice. It is not personal, nor can it be fixed by the actions of individual persons; it is a vindication of historical materialism, and it is playing out right before our very eyes.

It is time for the ”socialism” of the professional and managerial classes and the socialism of the working classes to part ways. The former is moribund and a historical dead-end. The latter, I think, still has a case to be made for it. More importantly – and personal experience from outside the left bears this out – it still has an audience that is willing to listen to it.

…

Workers aren’t stupid. They’re not evil. They haven’t been ”tricked by the media”. They need no false shepherds to guide them, no well-paid moral commissars to teach them to not randomly slaughter their neighbors because of muh racism. They have abandoned the left parties because the left parties have abandoned them, not ”culturally” as some proponents of identity politics would like you to think, but materially. They know their own class interests, and they know that the left is inimical to those interests. This is good news, at least for those of us with the courage and political will needed to help them free themselves from their so-called ”betters”. Let the Labour activists of London lament over how ”disappointed” they are that the working class has stopped following orders. We will not be like you. We will not promise new masters and new yokes to live under, new aristocracies and ”vanguards” to subsidize, new cadres of people selling them moral sermons and sensitivity courses. We will promise them a chance at revenge.

#malcom kyeyune #read the whole thing #professional managerial class

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mymelancholiesblues · 6 years

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Could you do a headcanons one for Ada?

[I posted this earlier, but tumblr wasn’t showing it in the tags search, so I asked for a friend to send in the anonymous question to see if the tracking would work and well, it did. Go figure this fuckin’ site].

So, similarly to what I did with my Leon’s family and background headcanons, I’ll post here my Ada ones too. I’d like to repeat to please keep in mind that these are (obviously) my headcanons for Ada’s background and family and in no way is anyone else under the obligation to accept nor fully agree with them.

I’m glad that Capcom still hasn’t tackled Ada’s personal plot and character background, deciding instead to keep the mystery surrounding her character – and only opening very tiny holes for us to speculate.

My headcanons for Ada are very precious to me since I think that these would be the best way to further add complexity to her character and break down her purposes in the lore while also adding more layers to her relationship with Leon – and the rest of the main characters we saw her interacting with –, as the divisive line that separates Ada to the rest of them would transcend “work motives” and fall into conflicting worldviews, cultural convictions and ideology. I love to think that “as much as I wanted to trust you… I didn’t” line also applies to Ada, considering that her difficulties to trust in people would hold her back from ever explaining what she really believes in and is working towards to Leon, thinking that the prejudices his country always encouraged on the matter wouldn’t allow him to understand or even try to. We, as audience, know that the bond they share goes beyond that and would allow them to overcome these differences, but these characters aren’t aware of it.

Anyway:

– All she knows about her biological family is that her parents were political dissidents who left her behind when she was still a baby to flee China’s Cultural Revolution (let’s remember she was born in 1974);

– Lived in a very impoverished orphanage located in China–Vietnam border area that just barely had the resources to maintain the kids they sheltered. In light of that, she had to learn how to steal at an early age (six years old) so she wouldn’t starve to death;

– One day she tried to steal this Vietnamese man’s wallet, but he noticed what she was doing and of course caught up with her when she tried to escape;

– Realising she was just a hungry kid, he ended up paying something for her to eat, talked to her for a while and told her that if she ever felt hungry like that again she could find him at that plaza by noon. From that day on she would go back every day to that spot and hope to see him again;

– Despite life at the orphanage cultivating her to be a very wary and circumspect kid, she was still a small child, so it wasn’t particularly hard to gain her trust, which the man rapidly did so: talking to her every day and paying for something for her to eat;

– They talked about food, people, work, money… He spoke to her in a kind, friendly and comprehensible way, never in a patronising tone nor meaning to talk down to her just because she was a child;

– She started “working” at like… eight, carrying stuff around or fetching things people asked her to for the sufficient amount of money so she could have something to eat;

– Noticing that the man who helped her would occasionally disappear for an uncertain amount of time before reappearing as if nothing ever happened, she started asking questions. He would always respond to her in a straightforward tone, telling her that he was “working to help their people”;

– At thirteen, more inquiring than ever, she proposed helping him “to help their people” so she could pay back what he did for her;

– This Vietnamese along with two other men (a Chinese and, later, a Russian) were founders of an independent orthodox Marxist party. They helped working-class people that were marginalized by conflicts and man-made tragedies;

– Ever read about Unit 731 in Pingfang? So, here’s what I propose to you: Tao Shangzhi lost a precious part of him there (family, comrades, you decide). Met Thang Nguyên, who lost a son to the south vs north Vietnamese tension that the USA was financing, in a worker’s protest in 1965. Early 1976 they met trotskyan Vitaly Grebenshchikov, ex-KGB who defected the Soviet Union for their dawning participation in biowarfare programs, believing this to be the utmost unforgivable sign of URSS’ continued and escalating distortion of the communist agenda;

– Vitaly had the connections who possessed financial resources to make viable turning their party of three into a structured organization capable of acting;

– It was never clear to Ada if all along they planned in concentrating in particular individuals of oppressed groups specifically with the purpose of recruiting agents for the future, but the fact remains that throughout the years, Vitaly, the Russian, recruited three agents (two females, one Italian and one Romanian, and a German male), Tao recruited three (an Ethiopian female, a Mozambican male and a Cuban male) and Thang recruited two other females, one Korean and one Japanese, as well as Ada;

– Ada was the ninth member to be recruited;

– Having more people at varied age-groups, the party’s main focus was established in working to completely destroy the biological warfare and chemical arms trade industry by undermining it from the inside, as well as to collect information on biological threats to be at the forefront of the vaccination grounds;

– Although settling with twelve “fixed” members, the organization also had what they call “allied operatives”, individuals that weren’t fully recruited to their cause and in virtue of it, weren’t fully aware of their goals and means to achieve them, but could sympathize with part of the causes they did got to be informed of;

– Starting at fourteen years and a half, Ada trained with the rigour to be an Olympic class gymnast (she already had some sort of starting pointing in physical conditioning since she had to be fast to be a thief and strong to carry things around later in childhood);

– She also had thorough classes on history, geography, sociology and philosophy and some essentially basic-level in biology, mathematics, physics and chemistry;

– She can fluently speak in Mandarin, English, Japanese and Korean. Furthermore, she possesses reading and listening fluency in Russian, German, Italian, Spanish, Romanian and Portuguese;

– In her training, the most severe exigences were: knowing how to speak in English without ever giving away that it wasn’t her first language, and to maintain her composure in the most adverse of situations;

– Knows her way around Taekwondo;

– Prepared to be perfectly capable of handling various automatic weapons and firearms;

– She believes in her party’s cause, always did. She doesn’t believe, however, that humankind is worth the trouble since she was sixteen;

– Hates imperialism and was convinced that the North-American population consisted of conceited, self-absorbed and egotistical people (till she fell in love with one, ha)

– Only completed her trainings by twenty years of age, although she was already participating in “gathering intelligence” missions since fifteen;

– I love LOVE to think that even though she was bit more experienced than Leon, she wasn’t that further away from him in terms of “field capability”;

– I don’t think John Clemens was retconned with RE2R, but, rather, Capcom’s choice to suppress mentioning him in this game was just logical and appropriate since the guy died early JUNE of 1998 and it wasn’t even minimally plausible that Ada didn’t know about that (come on, she’s a spy ffs!);

– Anyway, remember Clemens was “transferred to the Arklay Laboratory outside Raccoon City to take over Birkin’s role as chief of research” but “did not have the stomach for Umbrella’s illegal weapons research” and “started to question the motives of the research there and repeatedly questioned the superiors”? Well, at first, Ada’s mission was to get close to John precisely because he could be an “allied associate” and help in exposing and dismantling Umbrella;

– Despite the respect and comradery between the organization’s members, the only member she was really close to was Thang, but he died in a mission. Seung-chae Lee and Shimizu Yuuko (not their birth/real names), Thang’s other recruits, aren’t emotionally close to Ada, but the three of them share a deeper level of mutual reverence and camaraderie in comparison to what they feel to the rest of the organization’s members;

– Also, the two know about Leon. They suggested recruiting him to Ada, but she strongly prohibited them to do so;

– When Leon says things about helping people and putting an end to injustice and inequalities, Ada almost reveals everything there is to be revealed about her to him. Almost;

And… that’s it! Next “headcanons post” will focus on more simple things I have in mind for RE Characters (including Chris, Claire, Jill, Sherry, Helena). Ada and Leon get a bit more because they’re my faves. Hope you guys enjoy.

#Ada Wong #Ada #Leon x Ada #Ada x Leon #Aeon #OTP: like a part of me I can't let go #レオエイ #♥#[games]#[mine]#//#red and terrible and red #asks and answers #Aeon fandom #my headcanons

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supportforindieauthors · 5 years

Text

Purple Sky by Dinara Tengri

Late November 1993. The Soviet Union had fallen apart two years ago, and I’m taking a night class so that I can learn English and get a job at one of those foreign companies that have been setting up shop in our newly independent country.

My husband got laid off last year, and when the hospital started handing out boxes of household soap in lieu of salary I knew it was time to move on.

It’s a little past seven, and I’m on my way home with my friend Raikhan. We met in class, and since we both take the same trolleybus home, we agreed to brave the dusky streets of Almaty together.

On the way to the trolleybus station we stop by at a kiosk. The air is thick with rush hour exhaust fumes, and my head is throbbing.

“Do you want anything?”, Raikhan asks as we’re standing in line, behind a mother with her shrieking offspring, and ahead of two businessmen in fancy overcoats.

“Aspirin.”, I say.

The kiosks have sprung up around Almaty like mushrooms after a hefty rain. Bright yellow, dirty blue, these wooden boxes stick out of the familiar landscape, alien but comforting.

Open until the ungodly hours of the night they sell everything from chocolate to cheap vodka to tampons. You can usually find a tired college student or a former housewife tending to business.

I end up buying a bottle of Aspirin, and Raikhan gets herself a well-deserved Mars bar.

The purple sky is hanging low over the city tonight, with promise of more snow. The clouds have come apart in places, there are tears in the fabric through which you can see fragments of the night blue, and - if you strain your eyes hard enough - an odd star.

We hurry down the busy sidewalk, past a homeless man, past a newly opened tae kwan do dojo, past a billboard that says, “Independent Kazakhstan: Join Us in the Future!” in bright yellow letters against a mountainous backdrop.

There are billboards everywhere now. And bright neon signs fighting for your attention: night clubs, casinos - places where people can gather where they couldn’t before and talk about things they couldn’t talk about before.

Raikhan is talking somewhere on the fringes of my consciousness, as I compulsively list all the things I still have to do before my day is over, hoping to God that Berik helped the kids with their homework. Otherwise I’ll do it tomorrow.

We hurry to catch our trolleybus, while watching out for open manholes. Rumor has it people sell the covers for scrap metal. I heard of a girl who fell in once, and she only survived because she was too big to fit through the shaft.

All around us the city is transforming, shifting from day to night. It’s even less recognizable at night now. With the power going off and on periodically you can sometimes pass entire city blocks shrouded in darkness.

We take a shortcut through the alley. Long and lonely it swims in the ghostly green light of the Victorian-like streetlamps. The trees flanking the alley are old, their trunks covered in a coat of white paint, to protect them from parasites. In the summer, the they provide a green sanctuary from the relentless Central Asian sun. Now, their branches - crooked and naked look like bars of some medieval cage against the purple sky.

“Maybe I’ll take the kids to the park tomorrow”, says Raikhan as the snow is squeaking under our feet, “The news promised more snow, and the kids would love to go sledding.”

“That sounds like a good idea”, I want to say, but in that instant, the lights go out.

Blinking on and off for a few seconds, every light in the alley goes out with a loud hiss, leaving Raikhan and me in complete darkness.

As my hand reaches out to take Raikhan’s so does hers, and we grab onto each other, interlocking stiff fingers. Every muscle in my body is a wound-up spring when I feel - not hear but feel something approaching.

I try to squeeze Raikhan’s hand tighter but find myself paralyzed. I feel everything that is happening to my body: the icy wind on the skin of my face, the sweat pooling up between my shoulder blades, and the rabid beating of my heart as it’s attempting to escape through my mouth. Yes, I can feel my body, but I have no control over it.

People disappear all the time. Every night, the nine o’clock news wraps up with sports, weather, and a list of missing persons, their descriptions, and who you can contact should you ever see them.

“This city is like a damn Bermuda triangle!”, Berik said once, before turning off the TV.

In the old Stalin days, they say a black unmarked car would come for you and take you away, and your family would never hear from you again. Nowadays, you could be shoved into the back of a van to be sold for parts. Or your child could be lured away by some pervert on their way home from school.

Is this how I am going to disappear? Swallowed by darkness in the most populated part of the city? Will they find my body? Will my family ever learn what happened to me?

A shallow ragged breath rips through the thick silence - mine, followed by a strangled whimper - Raikhan’s. Her fingers are claws, her twisted profile in the corner of my eye is mine.

And then, a wave of calm washes over me. This feeling isn’t mine - it’s as if somebody is telling me to not be afraid, and I - having no reason to do so - believe them.

The last thing I remember before shadows envelope me is the tear in the purple sky, and a bright-green star pulsating slowly.

***

Amorphous shadows are floating before my eyes. I know I should be afraid but I’m not. I’m calm but not enough to forget that I am somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

“Where am I?”, I ask no one in particular.

In that instant, I am flooded with images. Memories as vivid and tangible as they were my own.

Huge chambers; walls curving up to a ceiling so high you have to crane your neck to get a look. Intricate geometrical patterns etched into walls with great care.

There are machines there. Hundreds of them. Strange, alien things that are part mechanical and part organic. Their strangeness is at once frightening and beautiful.

There is noise and light, and excitement. Excitement about the future, about all the wonderful things these machines will produce. These memories bear with them an echo of a noble purpose. A sacrifice in exchange for a promise. It feels good, but hollow.

“Who are you people? What are you going to do to me?”, is what I should be saying.

I don’t know where I am except that it’s so far away from home. From my children, and from my friend.

Raikhan’s terrified face appears before me but before I can call her name someone out there is telling me to not be afraid again. That all I have to do is to relax and listen.

Listen to what?

A new sensation. A collective memory of a great distance traveled, of a people leaving their home in pursuit of something great, but also vague. Too vague for my subdued mind to grasp.

And then, my mind clouds over, and becomes opaque like my mother’s ivory earrings.

Awareness comes back to me as cold air is pinching my cheeks and hands. I lift one hand to my face and make a sound, not unlike a laugh, realizing that I can move my body again. I get up to my feet. The air smells like old rags and dust.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I take a look around. I have been here before. Walls curving up to a ceiling so high it disappears in the shadows. There is mildew on the walls. The intricate patterns have faded in some places, and destroyed in others, smashed to bits by an angry hand.

The strange living machines that were humming and gyrating now stand silent and motionless. Loose wiring is sticking out from their open frames. I crouch next to one, touching the wiring, running my fingers across its slick surface, and I’m suddenly overcome with grief.

These machines - these creatures were working tirelessly for a purpose they didn’t understand, for a promise of something grand. But the promises were empty, their sacrifice in vain. And now their parts are scattered across the cracked dusty floor. So much wasted time.

Suddenly, I’m very tired.

“Let me out!”, I say to the beings hiding behind the broken machinery. I cannot see them, but I can hear them whispering amongst themselves, their voices almost human, and it’s the “almost” that is making the hairs on my back stand up, “Take me back to my friend! Whatever it is you want I can’t give it to you.”

Maybe I’m in a state of shock, or maybe I’m dreaming this whole thing, but there something about the descendants of a powerful ancient civilization hiding from me that makes me want to laugh. So, I laugh. A nervous bark that comes back to me like a boomerang.

I hate the sound of my own voice. I guess my captors hate it too, because they cease their whispering, and all I hear now is my own shallow breaths.

“What do you want from me anyway?”, I say, louder than I intended.

Again, I’m flooded with images and memories of more distance traveled, more time spent looking for somewhere to settle down, to rest and to think. I’m overwhelmed with dreams and hopes about a life outside of this moldy dark cave, and of giving my children a place they can call home, where they can be safe. So, they won’t know what I know.

My silent captors are bombarding me with their fears, their despair, and it’s like thousands of voices wailing and lamenting, and I’m being crushed under their wails, until my knees buckle, and I sink to the dirty floor, unable to stop the tears from pouring.

What does this have to do with me? Or with Raikhan? At my lowest, I’m crying out my friend’s name, the sound of my voice reverberating in the ancient chamber. And then, a gentle hand is caressing my mind, straightening out the wrinkles and creases like my mother used to do with her old dresses. With the last stroke my mind clouds over, and the crying stops.

***

It’s snowing. Tiny white flakes are slow dancing in the green light.

I’m sitting on a bench in the alley. My left hand moves up to my face so that I can look at my watch. It stopped at seven-thirty. That’s funny: I had the battery changed last week. I don’t know what time it is now but judging by the faded footprints in the snow, it’s now at least nine.

Shivers run through my fully clothed body. The air smells like rusting metal and something alien. My headache is back.

A shadow in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I whip my head around.

“It’s me.”, says Raikhan.

She’s standing next to me, looking exactly the same as when I last saw her, but there is something about her that’s different. Is it her posture? Or the way she’s tilting her head when she’s looking at me? Or is it the way her eyes are traveling up and down my frame as if she’s studying me?

“Are you alright?”, she asks not taking her eyes off me.

“Yes. Are you?”, I’m not taking my eyes off her.

“I think so. Do you know what time it is?”

“My watch stopped.”, I say, lifting my hand.

She mirrors my gesture,

“So, did mine.”

After a long pause, I say,

“Do you know what happened? To us?”

A slight shrug.

“The lights went out, and, I guess we got really spooked. Kind of silly, isn’t it?”, she finishes with an embarrassed chuckle.

“But, how long-”, I don’t know how to finish that sentence. What to ask her.

Did she see what I saw? Feel what I felt? Do I regale her with my adventures on board an ancient star craft before finishing off with a very earnest “And that’s what happened to me, I swear!”? Perhaps all that lack of sleep is finally taking its toll on me.

“We should get going.”, I say.

Raikhan nods.

We make it out of the alley, walking in silence.

Spotting a kiosk that’s still open, we walk towards it. Its soft yellow light is nice look at. A young woman with droopy eyes is sitting there, listening to American pop songs.

“Do you want anything?”, Raikhan asks me.

“A Mars bar.”, I have sudden craving for something sweet and sticky.

An ambulance rages by.

The droopy-eyed girl takes my money and hands me the chocolate bar.

“What time is it?”, I ask her.

“Almost nine.”, she says and shuts the little window, muffling the sound of the catchy pop tune.

Almost nine. I’m thinking about all the things I should have done tonight: laundry, dinner, dishes. But my head is also filled with other images. Alien memories from a world that once lived for a grand promise and built for a future that never came to be. A world that was now trying to find itself again, picking through the rubble of its own collapsed civilization, looking for something to salvage. Looking for somewhere to settle. A place to call home.

I can still feel their despair, their bitterness. But it’s their despair, not mine.

The snow keeps falling, as a temporary quiet settles over the city.

We catch the last trolleybus home and sit in silence. The upside of riding so late is that you can finally get a seat.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and maybe I will follow Raikhan’s lead and take the kids to the park. There’ll be plenty of snow for them tomorrow to build their own igloo. Later, we can go to that new supermarket, and get potato chips and the peanut butter that Berik has developed a taste for. Then I’ll help the kids with their homework before doing mine.

Purple clouds are hanging low over the city, but when I close my eyes, I can see that bright-green star pulsating slowly in the night sky.

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#Dinara Tengri #Purple Sky #Short Story Contest #Contest Winner #supportindieauthors #Alien Abduction Short Story

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mars-the-4th-planet · 6 years

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But thats gay tho

Yuri Gagarin woke up, after her first night having the Penny that was supposed to belong to Freedom Sayori but since Yuri Gagarin got her first, she recognized Yuri Gagarin as her owner.

Freedom Sayori was not pleased by this, and had gone off to complain to EA Robotics Headquarters Co™®© about the absurdity that was having a robot assign itself automatically to whoever opened the box, and to demand another one for free.

"Good Morning Yuri my best friend! I hope you slept well!"

"Nnngghhhh..." Yuri Gagarin groaned. She did not sleep particularly well, as she had nightmares of having her rocket break down in space and being trapped and unable to move out there in the black void, forever circling the sun.

"Wait... Um... Were you standing there the whole time Penny?"

"Yes! You told me to stand guard remember?"

"Oh.. See I thought..."

Penny hugged Yuri Gagarin. "I am happy too see you are awake finally!"

Yuri smiled a bit. "You werent just watching me the whole time were you?"

"I was, is that bad? A spider was about to crawl on you but I made it shoo. You looked beautiful sleeping, dont worry!"

"Thank you, I suppose? That is very strange... Weird that you could watch someone for hours on end."

Yuri Gagarin wiped drool off the side of her mouth, immensely doubting she looked beautiful as her hair was a huge purple tangled mass wrapping around her upper body. "Time to brush my hair... I hate doing it, my hair is so hard to make look nice." She grumbled.

Penny picked up a brush, and said: "Okay!"

Yuri Gagarin didnt mean she had to do it, but was pleasantly surprised that she interpretated it that way.

Some getting ready later, made much quicker with the help of her Penny, Yuri rolled out of her room. Freedom Sayori still wasnt back.

"Say, Yuri? Have you tried becoming Friends with Sayori? She seems nice!"

"No, she I have not. Okay once I did to trick her but in the end I was sorely beaten anyway..."

"You should be friends with her for REAL!" Penny suggested happily.

"N... No..." Yuri Gagarin muttered. "She and I are not compatible. She is the champion of freedom, and is so powerful, I am just a loser really. The soviet union does not even exist anymore, and I for one am no closer to bringing it back than I was when it first fell."

Penny put down a calculator. "According to my calculations, it is extremely unlikely that it will ever work... If you want my honest advice..."

Yuri Gagarin glared at her slightly... And then stopped and said "I do."

"Then I suggest giving up on the soviet union, Yuri! I think you would be better off trying to help Russia be the best it can be the way it is now! Modern Russia has done something the Soviet Union never could... Subjugate the United States president while he is still in office! And improve the standards of living for Russians! Think about it Yuri!"

Yuri Gagarin did not want to think about it, but she could not stand to deny it either since Penny was only telling her the truth. Maybe... Maybe it WAS time to let go of the past, and look to the future of her homeland instead. "Perhaps someday we will try socialism again, in a better way that works... Like what China has achieved..."

"Or maybe like Norway..."

"Or Sweden..."

"Or even Finla-"

KT-TSSHHHH

The sound of glass breaking filled the house. Kuusi Palaa slammed into the couch and lay there stunned.

"Hey! What are you doing here?!"

Kuusi Palaa seemed to be coming to her senses, slowly.

"Wait, Yuri. Give her time to recover okay?" Penny suggested.

A minute or so later and the Finn got up, only to realize then she had been placed in a cage.

"Kyarven taoji skalivaa da Monarcha en bitch." She explained.

Penny translated what she said to Yuri, minus the last word since Penny couldnt curse. And it was unnecessary anyway.

"That does sound bitchy." Yuri Gagarin agreed. "Why did you come to us though?"

Kuusi Palaa explained that sense Monarcha had ordered Kuusi Palaa to stop Yuri Gagarin from escaping, she assumed they were enemies and Kuusi Palaa wanted to switch sides.

She also added that she was almost out of fuel because using her rocket to smash through the glass and escape resulted in a tiny leak that drained the compressed alcoholic fuel that she relied on to fly. (Remember, her rocket is made of glass covered by foil.) Kuusi Palaa hoped that if she gave Yuri information, she would help her by fixing the leak and giving her more fuel.

Penny believed her but Yuri Gagarin was not so sure. She doubted Kuusi Palaa was trustworthy and doubted even more that Monarcha would try to eat her. Yuri Gagarin did not really consider Monarcha an enemy, or even a rival. So she didnt understand why she would go through the trouble of sending a Finland bottle rocket girl after her.

And so, Yuri Gagarin stuck the cage on a shelf. "You will stay there until I can confirm or deny what you claimed." Yuri Gagarin said.

Kuusi Palaa just shrugged, happy that she was in a relatively safe place where she would not end up unable to fly and get eaten by Monarcha. She was still shaking a bit from the close call.

"Now, Penny?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I will try to befriend sayori. After all, she does not like the current administration of the United States either so maybe she can compromise with me?"

"Yay!"

"Truly this day has been a day of discovery, much to my confusion I have been toss't into the midst of decisions and new information! Is my goal maybe too unreasonable? Must I reconsider my path? Perhaps so! Has Russia gone down a better path? It seems like it! Can I become friends with the beautiful Freedom Sayori by letting the past stay in the past? I think maybe I can! Can I bring forth socialism in America and Russia?! Maybe someday I will if I am not spending my life fighting Freedom Sayori!"

"I am so proud of you Yuri, my friend!" Penny hugged her tightly.

Yuri Gagarin responded to this by hugging her back and kissing the robot on her artifical lips. Yuri got romantically attached quickly to her friends, such was her way.

Kuusi Palaa whistled.

#Yuri Gagarin arc

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hetalia-tlw · 6 years

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Hetalia: The Lost World Part 1

"Everyone listen up! I called you all here to help me solve the world's problems. Yes, I know we've been at each other's throats for years. But since we can all get along we can combine everything we learned. Alright, here we go! About global warming and climate change, I say we create a hero called 'Global Man' who can stop climate change and stop enslavement around the world. So what do you guys say?" asked a loud man with glasses happily. "I agree with America-san" said a black haired man. "Oh stop it Japan! You just can't agree to everything!" yelled a long blond haired man, who's sitting next to the black haired man called 'Japan'. "Excuse me? There's no way in a million years that a hero will stop Climate Change. So I disagree with America's idea, along with it's 'learnt' not 'learned'. Speak in the proper English!" said a man with a thick British accent. "I disagree to both America and England" said a man with long blond hair. "Shut up you bloody frog!" yelled England. "You Frenchmen are so different from today. Why not go back to making sexy female statues like you used to?" asked America. Soon America, France, and England started arguing and fighting. "You guys are acting so immature! I just don't understand you western countries. Here, why not have some food to stop fighting, aru" said a man with long black hair that's in a pony tail. "We don't want any!!!" yelled both England and France who were still fighting. "I'll have one, please" said a man who looks like America while holding a polar bear. "Russia, why not you scare these fighting idiots?" asked Spain. "What me? Sorry, I just can't. I'm too busy trying to improve my relations with the Baltic Trio. Hey, Lithuania! Do me a favor and cry on your hands and knees for me" said Russia while pointing at Lithuania who made a panicked expression. Just like that Lithuania begins crying while Belarus and Ukraine are calming him down. "Now now Russia. It's not nice to pick on the weak" said Estonia. "Oh look who wants to talk" said Russia jokingly. The world meeting was in chaos with everyone fighting and arguing, while Greece is sleeping away all his troubles in the world. "EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!!" "G-Germany?" asked both England and France who stopped fighting. "DOES ANYONE REALIZE HOW LONG VE BEEN HERE!? VELL GUESS VHAT? I DO UND VE ARE IN A SERIOUS MATTER! NOBODY TALKS, BUT SHOULD REMAIN QUIET UNLESS SOMEONE IZ TALKING!!!" yelled Germany. "Now zhen I shall call on one of jou to talk. But don't try to mimic somezhing from mein country's past. Got it?" asked Germany while calming down. Everything was silent until a hand rose up. "Italy, jou may speak" said Germany while pointing at a man with a strange curl. "Veeeee~! Okay, hmm... PASTAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" yelled Italy in excitement. ~At Germany's House~ "Veeeee~! Gerrrrrrrmmmmaaaannny!" yelled Italy. "Uh Germany-san, I think Itary is rooking for you" said Japan. "Like I haven't noticed" said Germany. "Veeeee~! Gerrrrrrrmmmmaaaannny!" continued Italy. It wasn't long until Italy reached his two friends, which in this case he was running towards them. "Vhat do jou vant Italy? Can't jou see zhat I'm busy dealing vith somezhing. Zhis better be gut" said Germany. "Germany, I-a find something and it's-a really important" said Italy. "Alright fine. Japan und I vill come vith jou" said Germany. "Yaaaaayyy!!!" said Italy in excitement. ~Time Skip~ "Germany! Japan! This-a is-a place where-a I-a find it" said Italy. "How far did you go Itary-kun?" asked Japan. "I went this way" pointed Italy. The trio eventually made it deep within the forest, until they stopped in front of a big rock. "Zhat's strange. I don't recall ever being zhis deep into zhis forest. Are jou sure jou've seen it, Italy?" asked Germany. "Si! This-a is-a were I-a found it" said Italy. "Uh Germany, something is very off about this forest" said Japan. "Vhat do jou mean Japan?" asked Germany. "I just don't know. I've got a feering that there's a reason why nobody goes this deep into the forest" said Japan. "I-a found it! Let's-a get out of here, it's-a kind of scary here" said Italy. With that the trio headed back to Germany's house, where Italy shows both his friends of what he found. "Italy, how long are jou just going to keep digging in zhat bag?" asked Germany. "Not long" said Italy and with that Italy pulled it out. "Finally" said Germany. Italy soon put whatever he found on the table, as both Germany and Japan look at it in question. "Vhat iz zhat?" asked Germany. "It appears to be a grassed rose" said Japan. "Ve~! I-a knew it was-a glassed rose" said Italy. While the trio were trying to solve the mystery of the glassed rose, the awesome man alive burst through the front door of Germany's house. "Zhe awesome me has returned!" yelled the albino man. "Oh nein, not him" mumbled Germany. "Does someone need some awesomeness? Too bad jou can't get any of mine. Cuz I'm zhe awesome Prussia!" yelled Prussia. Prussia than came into the living only to see the glassed rose on the table next to Italy. "Oh vhat's zhis zhing? Bruder iz zhis for me? Oh jou shouldn't have, zhis iz zhe must awesome zhing I ever seen! Da-" said Prussia but he was cut off by Germany only to say "Bruder, zhis iz not for jou! Italy found it und I'm pretty sure he's not going to give it to jou" Prussia who was shocked quickly said "Vhat? Zhat's very disappointing to hear. In fact did jou just say zhat Italy's unawesomeness found it?" "Si! I-a did! I-a found it deep in the forest" said Italy. "Oh zhat's awesome. Vhat does it do?" asked Prussia. "We don't know" said Japan. "Don't know? Vell zhen, zhe awesome me vill be going out. See all jou unawesome people tomorrow!" said Prussia and with that, he already ran out the door. "I'm getting somezhing to drink" said Germany, while Japan also got up saying "I'm just going to make my famous sushi" Italy was left by himself with the glassed rose, he was about to make pasta, until the rose started to glow. "Germany! Japan! Come quick!" yelled Italy and with that both Germany and Japan came only to see the rose glowing. "ITALY, VHAT DID JOU DO!?" yelled Germany. "N-Nothing! I-I-a was just going to-a make pasta, until-a the rose started-a glowing!" yelled Italy. Suddenly the rose started to open while a bright light started to grow bigger and bigger. Italy, Germany, and Japan covered their eyes until the light started to dim. They then uncover their eyes only to see the sprout of light coming from the open tip of the rose. Before they could move, the light started to shape into a man leaving the trio in shock and surprise. "Greetings" said the man. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Im Yong Soo" "Wait, I heard that name before. It's so famirilar, but where did I heard it from?" asked Japan, who was (finally) surprised. "Hmm... I thought I was forever to be forgotten, but I guess not" said Yong Soo, while raising a brow. "Courd it be? Are you the forgotten country?" asked Japan. "Close, I was the second forgotten country. I was once the great South Korea and I'm surprised that you still remember me, brother" said Yong Soo. "Bruder? Japan vhat iz he talking about?" asked Germany. "I suppose Japan never told you. Well then that's a shame. I was both Japan and China's brother a long time ago, until the day when the Soviet Union came and took everything away from me. They even took a piece of me and called it North Korea. After time went by, I was dissolved along with the other half. But there are rumors that he's still alive or he was revived" said the former South Korea. "Vait before jou go vhat's zhe other half's name?" asked Germany. "You mean my older brother? His name is North Korea and he's really a messed up dude. However both Russia and America only know a few things about him, I'm sure both of them will tell you" said South Korea and with that he vanished back into the rose. "North Korea? Somehow that name sounds so famirilar" said Japan. "Ve~! Germany what-a we going to do-a now?" asked Italy. "Ve are going to have a talk vith both America und Russia, zhat's vhat" said Germany. ~Meanwhile Back At The Forest~ "Gahh! Where is that [beep]ing thing?" asked a deep American voice. "Now now, what did I say about using such foul language?" said a calming British voice. "Oh, I [beep]ing hate you!" yelled the American voice. "Ah swear jar, pay up now poppet" said the British voice as the American sounding one growled. "Sir we couldn't find the glassed rose. It's gone" said a deep Canadian voice. "Oh really? That's-a shame. I-a was hoping that it-a was suppose to-a stay here" said a deep Italian voice. "Sir vat do ve do now?" asked a deep French voice. "I say we crush and kill the people who took it, da" said a deep Russian voice. "Actually we-a need to call-a the others for-a meeting. To our-a private first-class jet, boys" said the Italian voice in a dark happy tone. ~Meanwhile Somewhere In England~ "Now just one tiny drop to this potion and ahh complete" said England while finishing a magic potion for... who knows what. "Now since I'm finally done with that magic potion, I can now turn that bloody frog into an actual bloody green frog" said England while carefully putting the potion in his potion cabinet. While England was about to look at his spell book for the cure, he got a surprise blinking glow from his magical vision orb. "That's weird I don't usually get an alert message unless if that bloody frog is in my house" said England in confusion. England then ran over to his vision orb and in under five to seven minutes, he saw something unbelievable and scary. "No it can't be! It just can't be happening! Not again! I thought his rain of terror has ended! Why hasn't it ended!?" yelled England in confusion. ~Meanwhile Somewhere Else~ "God naneun dasi han beon dangsin-eul mannal geos-ida naneun mog eulo dangsin-eul delyeo gal dangsin eul lo gadeug habnida yeong-gug (Soon I will meet you once again and I will take you by the neck and chock you, England)" said the mysterious male. "Mr. North Korea? Are you in there? What are your today plans?" asked a maid. "Oneul naui gyehoeg-eun migug e gal geos-ibnida. Naneun olaen chingu leul bogo sip-eoyo. Naleul wihae nae gaein choego sujun-ui jeteu leul junbi (My plans for today is go to America. I want to see an old friend. Have my private first class jet ready for me)" said the so called 'North Korea'. "Excuse me Chin-Sun. He said that his plans are to go to America. He wants to see an old friend and yes he wants to be on his private jet" said a translator. "Why thank you, Hyeon. Without you we won't be able to understand what Mr. North Korea is saying" said Chin-Sun. "You're welcome. I just don't get why he doesn't bother to speak English like most other countries do. But I guess he still wants to have his culture, but it shouldn't hurt him to speak in English every once in awhile" said Hyeon. Soon North Korea's jet was ready for him and while North Korea was on board, he said one last thing "Segyega yeogie bughan-i oneun bakk-eul bwa (Look out world here comes North Korea)" with a devilish smirk on his face.

#hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fan series #hetalia the lost world #hetalia characters

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smokeybrand · 4 years

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Veterans Day

It’s wild to think that the US has been in constant war since 2001. nineteen years this past September to be exact. That shit’s f*cking ridiculous to me. Mu oldest nephew was born in 2002. He doesn’t know an America not at war. There is an entire generation of kids who don’t know what peace time looks like and no one bats an eye. There is something severely wrong with that. Yesterday was Veterans Day here and it was surreal seeing all of the “Thank you for your service” type posts and all of this aggressively American nationalism all over my Facebook. The outgoing president is consolidating power and installing cronies for what can only be seen as power grab meant to set the foundation for a later coup, but we are all flagellating ourselves over the people who came home from war. This sh*t is a distraction.

Now, before i continue with my aggressively negative opinion toward the US military industrial complex, i need to clarify; I do not hate the troops. I understand that, at times, war is necessary and sacrifices must be made. A lot of my family have served actually. All of my uncles on my mom’s side went into the army. Her father served in the Air Force. All of her uncles did tours, more than a few did double duty in Vietnam. That nephew i referenced above? His dad, my older brother, was deployed to Ira during the beginning days of that war. I got a little cousin that swore her oath into the Marines a few months ago. I’m not so much of an asshole that i would call them “suckers” or “loser” for their choice to serve, even though i fundamentally disagree with the very notion of enlistment. If you’re reading this and you served, i hold no ill will toward you ether. I genuinely thank you for your service, i just don’t agree that you should have to serve in the first place.

The last war the US ever actually needed to fight was World War II and the only reason we got into that one, was because Pearl Harbor got bombed. We st back and watched the Blitzkrieg decimate England, secure in the fact that no one could touch our isolationist ass until we got suckered by the Japanese. That sh*t woke us up and we’ve been committing war crimes ever since. The history we’re taught about all of the wars we get into, is one colored but nationalist colored hues and propaganda highlights. We’re taught that every conflict the US gets into, we win or the job is done or whatever other focus grouped buzzwords are used to fool the unwashed masses into thinking a massive military campaign in some far off brown country is necessary and heroic. The truth of the matter is that these campaigns are never necessary and they are always far from heroic.

Every major world conflict since the Korean War has either been exacerbated or directly caused by the United States. Hell, the Korean War might fall into that observation, too, but I'm not as well versed in that one as the the others. Vietnam was an unwinnable war to begin with. It was also a historically unpopular one, so much so they had to draft people into it. The US government forced it’s people to kill a bunch of Vietnamese because Communism. And guess what? Vietnam is whole ass communist! We lost that “war.” Vietnam is community to this day. What about the volatile nature of the Middle East? We’ve been installing and couping puppet dictators in that region for years, eventually leading to the people running right into the arms of fundamentalist zealots, f*cking those countries up to this day. Have you ever seen a picture of Iran in the late Sixties/early Seventies? Their sh*t looked just like ours. Women had rights. They could walk around without covering up with no fear of reprisal. They could f*cking drive. They didn’t have to worry about getting stoned to death if they’re raped. And then the US made the Ayatollah happen. Womp-womp.

Speaking of sh*t the US created, lets talk about the Taliban. Once upon a time, way back in the 80s, the Soviet Union was coming out of pocket and tried to used Afghanistan as a backdoor into our assets in the middle East. One of which was Saddam Hussein bu that’s for later. Since we couldn’t be seen fighting the Ruskies outright because, you know, nuclear winter and all, the US equipped and trained the “Afghan freedom fighters” whom we used to wage a proxy war on Russia. After getting beat by a bunch of farmers using US tactics and guns from the fifties, Russia was humiliated. Our assets were protected and Russia was humiliated, a contributing factor to the eventual fall of the USSR a few years later. Did the US stay and bring a bit of stability to the war torn region? F*ck no!

We bailed the second that last Russian tank rolled it’s ass out of there. That was not lost on the Afghan people and one of them whose named rhymes with Osama Bin Laden, took the reigns of those “Afghan Freedom Fighters” who became the f*cking Taliban. There’s a movie about. Its called Rambo 3. I’m actually serious. Rambo goes to Afghanistan to fight along side the Freedom Fighters against the Russians in Rambo 3. That flick did not age well at all. Fast forward to 2001, and the now radicalized Taliban blow up New York and we’ve been at war with our imperialistic hubris for next nineteen whole ass years, with no stopping in sight. You can draw a straight line from our intervention in Afghanistan back during the Soviet-Afghan war, directly to the ISIS we’re fighting right now in Syria and sh*t.

When Bin Laden took down the towers, a wave of anti-Muslim and Islamaphobia washed over our country, vaulting us into a war that wasn’t. Operation Enduring Freed (see? Buzzwords) sent our troops back into Afghanistan, only we weren’t the Russians. We decimated that country in an effort to find the man responsible for the three thousand casualties we suffered at the hands of a improvised explosive airplanes. I don’t know what the casualties were for the Afghan people was we burned their country to the ground, probably way more than three thousand, but, once again, we bailed without stabilizing that country. Nope, once we got in there, W. Bush decided to send the rest of the forces into Iraq to murder Saddam Hussein (See? Told you we’d get there.) who was once a puppet dictator we installed that got a too big for his britches. So while we were distracted by a personal vendetta, Hussein tried to killed Bush Sr. so Bush Jr. decided to use the US armed forces to beat up his dad’s bully, the understandably angry remnants of Afghanistan regrouped into IS, which evolved further into ISIS. Now guess who was waiting for us when we “finished” Operation Iraqi Freedom? The same motherf*ckers who have been f*cking our sh*t up for the last two decades.

This is a long ass post because i needed to be as clear as possible about my vitriol toward the machinations used to force people into serving. Every enemy the us has had since the Seventies, have been our Frankensteined monsters. We made those beasts. We sewed that strife. All because we kept making the same mistakes. We beat the Taliban withing months of invading Afghanistan but we didn’t do the necessary cleanup, just like the incursion during the Eighties. We didn’t finish the job. We haven’t finished the job since Vietnam. We just kicked the can down the road and look where that got us? Vietnam is Communist. The Middle East is a volatile pressure pot of radical fundamentalism. That can we kicked way back when, is kicking back in the form of ISIS and Al Queda. And that’s just the sh*t overseas. I’m not even going to get into the bullsh*t we’ve done to Central and South America or how our clandestine f*ckery effected a very specific, very melanated, demographic of our citizens, here at home.

Every vet who fought in a war after WWII, has fought for the lie of freedom, when thy weren’t forced into it. The US is the most powerful country in the world. We have the largest nuclear arsenal on record, in all of history. We spend the most on”defense” that literally anyone else in the entire world. Last i heck, it was something stupid like seven hundred and fifty billion dollars. For one year. One. Year. There’s no way my nineteen year old cousin should be at war, not when we spend that much on it. There’s no way she should be fighting the same enemy as my forty one year old older brother. There’s no way either one of them should have felt enlisting was their “patriotic” duty, especially when we created the issues to begin with. I appreciate the service but i hate the fact that they have to serve, especially knowing and understanding who they are serving against.

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jam2289 · 4 years

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Nice People - What does it mean?

My default perspective of people is that they're nice. That doesn't particularly hold true if you compare things to history, or other cultures, or even all of my own experience. I've had my life threatened many times, I've been shot at, had someone try to stab me, been successfully poisoned in Africa, have had money stolen, been lied to and betrayed, been lied about, and I've been conned a few times. I've largely ignored this contradiction because I didn't know how to reconcile it. But, the last 16 months have held it in my awareness so consistently that I need to confront my ideas about the niceness of people. Today is a good example.

I decided to go for a walk at Lake Harbor Park to clear my head. It's been a drizzly day, which I like. With an overcast sky blocking out the sun, the park wasn't too busy, which I also like. I took a trail that isn't the most popular. You walk up a small incline of sand, and then turn down a narrow ravine with trees all around you. Even when the sun is out it doesn't touch you there. I didn't encounter any people on that trail.

I could hear the heavy waves of Lake Michigan crashing on the sandy shore in front of me as I started to come out of the ravine. There's a steep climb up a sand dune. I cut across the top of the dunes along the shore, watching the waves crash. I saw one other woman with her dog and a backpack sitting on the sand staring out over the water. My boots left footprints in the sand, but made hardly a sound. With the noise from the wind and the waves the woman didn't even notice me walk by her, and I left her to her solitary contemplation. She seemed nice.

I saw that there were large orange markers floating out in the lake and wondered what they were for. I came off the dunes onto a set of wooden stairs. The first thing that I noticed was that the part of the channel that had collapsed earlier in the year had been repaired. As I walked down the stairs I noticed that there was a man with a jet ski in the channel. It seemed that him and his son were pulling in the orange buoys with the jet ski. I smiled and waved, and they smiled and waved back as they headed back out of the channel for another round. They seemed nice.

As I was getting in my car to leave there was a couple getting out of their car two parking spots over. The husband got the two dogs, and the mother was picking up the baby girl. I said hi to the guy and he said hi back, and I waited to make sure both of the dogs were where I could see them before backing out. They seemed nice.

I decided to stop at Meijer on Henry to get some Wallaby brand kefir, because it's a tasty treat. I walked to the back of the store, grabbed two bottles in each hand, and got in line. It was an oddly long line stretching from the self-checkout area, across the main aisle, and into the produce area. I was standing in line and a guy came up and stood next to me. He stared at the line and sighed. He put his two half-gallons of chocolate milk that he was carrying onto a stack of Coca-Cola in the aisle. I laughed and said, "It's a weirdly long line today. It's not a holiday or anything is it? The holiday was last weekend." He agreed that it was odd having such a long line.

We were talking and he kept adjusting his mask. I said, "The masks are annoying aren't they?" He agreed and said, "What's really annoying is the six foot thing. Whenever you start to get close to anyone they start to do this!" And he tucked into a little cower and shuffled away like he was afraid. We both laughed, me with my leprechaun bandana around my neck and him adjusting his mask. We talked about my students who grew up wearing masks in the Soviet Union and in China. He mentioned conditioning, and then told me that he uses whole Meijer brand chocolate milk that he mixes with plain two percent milk to create the best tasting concoction. We checked out at the same time at different registers and were walking out together. I told him that it was nice talking with him. He asked me my name and I told him, and he told me his name was Eric. We shook hands and he said how nice it was to meet me. And how unusual it was to have a nice conversation in a checkout line, especially now, and he liked that I was a teacher. He was surprised to have had such a nice talk.

The next place I was headed for was Scott Meats. I drove down Broadway Avenue. The road feels like driving down a rough two-track, as you're bouncing along you look out the window and see empty business after empty business, boards over the windows and doors, a desolate sight. There were more people than usual walking along the sidewalk. I noticed that one was holding a cardboard sign that read "Black Lives Matter", and just after that I passed the rally they were holding in the park. Ignoring the crippling content of the underlying philosophy, people walking on the sidewalk and speaking and standing in a park seem nice.

As I was walking into the meat store there was a guy standing outside with a bag on his walker. I asked if he needed help. He seemed quite surprised that I talked to him. He said he was just waiting for a cab. He seemed nice.

I went inside and grabbed my ticket, waited, and got a bag of hanger steaks. I asked what the seasoning was on them and the clerk told me that it wasn't anything particularly special, but a mix that they made in the back. He seemed nice.

I got in line as the woman in front of me was just finishing checking out. The cashier motioned me forward as she called for someone to come help the woman carry out her two bags. She had asked the cashier if the hanger steaks were any good, she said yes, and I said, "They are very good." The cashier scanned my bag and I put in my card as she told the woman waiting that it would be a moment for someone to come and carry her bags for her. I said, "I can help you." Both of the women were very surprised and said "Really?!" I said, "Yeah, I'm headed that way anyway." and laughed. They both did the thing where you agree with something by making one muffled laugh and nodding your head. The cashier remarked several times that it was so nice of me to help. I carried my bag in one hand and one of the woman's bags in the other hand. She thanked me several times as we walked to her truck. I told her to have a nice day and she thanked me again. When I was one car away she yelled something. I turned around and asked, "What?" She said, "I can give you a dollar tip if you want." I said, "No, it's no problem. My car's right over there. Have a good one." She seemed nice.

On my drive home I was reflecting on these unusual interactions. Mostly on the fact that they seem normal to me, and they seem so surprising to the other people. I was thinking to myself, "Why have these people been so surprised by these normal interactions?" My mind answered back with the obvious, "Because they aren't normal." They never were, and are even less so now that covid has made everyone scared of everyone else. When's the last time that I saw someone carry groceries out for a stranger? Never. When's the last time I saw someone walk up to a stranger standing in a parking lot and ask them if they need help? Never. When's the last time I saw two strangers have a sincere conversation diving into serious topics in a checkout line? Never.

It's not that they never happen, they're just so rare that you aren't going to see them. Sometimes people plan to do nice things. A few years ago there was a fad about paying for the meal of the person behind you in the fast-food drive-through. I don't think it's the same thing psychologically. That's a planned anonymous charity, rather than a sincere person-to-person encounter in the moment. Helping people with money might be more common. A few years ago I was having breakfast at a restaurant. I was standing in the checkout line and the old guy in front of me was digging for money to pay. It seemed like he probably wasn't going to come up with the total amount. I told him and the cashier to just put it on mine and I'd cover it. He thanked me, but didn't seem surprised. The cashier didn't seem surprised either, and we had a little conversation about him having love and hate tattooed across his knuckles. No big deal.

On the other hand, a couple of years ago I was looking for a parking space at the grocery store in the middle of winter. There was an old guy that got his front tire stuck in a snowbank. He was putting it in forward, reverse, forward, reverse. I drove past him while finding a parking spot. There were a lot of people at the store. People walking in, people walking out. There were tons of people that walked past this guy. By the time that I had parked and walked down the parking lot lane, not a single person stopped to help him. All he needed was a little push. I helped him and he was on his way. I remember being surprised that no one else had offered to help this guy, even though a lot of people were walking right by him.

In my mind, in these various situations, I was just being nice. I get this emphasis on being nice from my mother. But you can see that there's some inconsistency in my use of the word and my application of the concept. Because of the way I use it almost everyone gets classified in my mind as nice. And that doesn't fully work, because when I encounter not nice people, as I often do, it conflicts with my perception of all of humanity as mostly nice, which is a depressing inner conflict. I need to change things to come into closer contact with reality.

Our performative actions contain more information than images, and images contain more information than words. What we're seeing here is a discrepancy between how I'm classifying performative actions of myself and others with the words that I'm using. When I'm helpful, I'm nice. When I offer to help, I'm nice. When I have a sincere personal encounter, I'm nice. When someone talks to me, they're nice. When someone smiles at me, they're nice. When someone doesn't do anything, they're nice. This extremely wide range makes the use of the word fuzzy.

There's a big gap between being helpful and not doing anything. The key difference is between being active and being passive. Now we're getting to the heart of the issue, I can feel it. My use of nice includes being not-bad, non-malevolent, and not-hurtful. These are completely passive things. We could say that the person isn't good or bad, they're neutral. Just because someone's not-bad doesn't mean they're good, being non-malevolent doesn't mean you're benevolent, being not-hurtful doesn't mean you're helpful. Being helpful is good, being hurtful is bad, being non-helpful and non-hurtful is neutral. It holds the potential for moral action, but isn't engaged in it.

This passivity is what's common. Mixing the ideas of being passive and being active is what's confused my working definition of niceness.

This pervasive passivity is also what allows for atrocities. Hannah Arendt and Karl Jaspers talk about this in Nazi Germany, and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Havel talk about it in the Soviet Union. Stanley Milgram demonstrated it in his famous experiments. Arendt called it the banality of evil. Milgram called it the agentic state. To classify this passivity under the same heading as helpfulness is obviously a mistake.

Now we know the distinction that I was failing to make in my thinking. There is an immense amount of change that comes from that. It will take some time for my mind, body, and soul to fully digest. But I can point out some of how it will begin. For instance, if I think that almost everyone is nice, and within niceness I have being non-malevolent, and being helpful. Then, when a bunch of people pass by someone who needs help, and it wouldn't even be inconvenient to help, they are both being nice in being non-malevolent, and not being nice for not being helpful. Most people are passive, not helpful. They can be helpful in certain circumstances. If the person was in their in-group and they knew them they might help them, if an authority figure told them to help they probably would, if others were helping they might conform, if there was a reward someone would help for the benefit. But being helpful outside of these parameters is extremely unusual. By making the clear distinction between passivity and helpfulness there is no longer an inner contradiction in my perception of the situation.

It does make a deeper problem stand out though. Since this passivity is the norm by far, and it allows for such great injustices to prevail, how do we move away from it as a society? The first part of that answer is simple, the society is made out of individuals, so it's a change that has to occur in individuals. Carl Jung emphasized that very clearly. Arendt talks about the importance of thinking as an individual, Jaspers talks about assessing your individual guilt, Viktor Frankl talks about discovering and fulfilling individual meaning. What they're all dealing with is the conscience. How do we activate the conscience? How do we make and keep it strong? When I wrote 'Moral Engagement' I was talking about the contents of conscience, but the practices that engage it are something different. It's what pulls Arendt, Jaspers, Solzhenitsyn, Havel, Jung, and Frankl all into the spiritual realm when they talk about doing good and constraining evil, first within the self. It's deeper than philosophy and psychology. What's needed is deeper than a better thought. The mind and body house an emergent property, the conscience, the soul. In the depths of the individual what's needed is spiritual healing. Heal the spirit, the conscience, the soul. That is the way forward.

Here's the link to 'Moral Engagement': http://www.jeffreyalexandermartin.com/2020/04/moral-engagement.html

________________________________________________

If you like this, check out JeffThinks.com or JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com

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readreadbookblog · 4 years

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On History: Tariq Ali and Oliver Stone in Conversation

On History: Tariq Ali and Oliver Stone in Conversation is a very very short book in which Stone interviews Ali on the history of modern contemporary American history. Written to help promote two Oliver Stone projects, his Showtime TV series The Untold History of the United States and the documentary South of the Border, this book runs a total of 186 pages.

There is no grand conversation but rather questions that Stone throws at Ali. Ali, whom I’ve never heard of before, is a very smart man. Originally from Pakistan before being banned from the country during the 1960s following his protests against Military coups, Ali has mastered the study of history, which I bet alines with Stone’s own views very much. Stone, who before being 100% brainwashed by Russian propaganda today, was very critical on U.S. imperialism especially regarding the Cold War policies. Ali shares the same ideas and sentiments and he very much points out the then contemporary politics of George W. Bush era and how they fit into the continuing imperialist policies of the United States. Here are a few of my favorite points that he made:

On the end year of the Russian Revolution

“I would say that the defeat of the hopes of the Russian Revolution was probably 1929 or 1930, when the big collectivization programs started.” (26)

On why the U.S. entered the First World War, following the Russian Revolution

“And the British Empire had to be preserved at all costs. What they [The British] didn’t see was that the entry of the United States into the First World War was actually, if you think about it now, a very serious death blow against the British Empire. because it showed that the British on their own couldn’t get their way in the world anymore. They needed the United States. They used to think: we will manipulate the United States.” (30)

On why U.S. policy towards Japanese imperialism was harsh than Nazi Germany pre-WWII

“if this [the colonized countries & terrorizes) falls totally into the hands of the Japanese, it’s lost to us forever, or for a long time to come.” (41)

On Dr. Livingston

“Once you belong to an imperial country, an imperial race, you think the world is yours. And even good people, you know, they decide that they can go and explore the world, and discover things. In the back of their mind is the fact that we are the empire, everything I’m doing is for the empire. And Livingston was not immune to that.” (63)

On U.S. presidents, specifically F.D.R.

“And I say, well, if you wear Caesar’s clothes, and you sit on Caesar’s thrown, you have to behave like Caesar. But there are choices even in how to be Caesar. You can be Caligula, or you can be Claudius. You can be Constantine, or you can be Julian. So you can say that about all politicians.“ (66)

On the Greek Civil War

“the Greek civil war was a very vicious, bloody war involving virtually every single family in Greece. Families were divided, families split up.... Like the Spanish Civil War. The Greeks still call it “Churchill’s War”(92)

On the Prague Spring

“And these debates were then beginning to be smuggled in underground publications from Czechoslovakia, samizdat, into the Soviet Union itself. When print workers in the Ukraine published some of the Czech manifestos on socialism and democracy, the Russians panicked. They said, this disease must be stopped. It’s like a cancer, it could kill us unless we deal with it, and they intervened. The Soviet entry into Prague in August 1968 was, I think, the death knell of the Soviet Union itself. Many people gave up hope.“ (98)

On Marxism

“The second thing Marx did was to explain the ways in which capitalism functions. The drive to profit, which is the dominant drive in capital, determines everything. And then there are some incredibly prescient passages in which he talks about fictive capital, fictional capital, the system using money that it doesn’t have and imploding. And he points out that this cycle will repeat itself in the history of capitalism as long as the system lasts.” (124).

On capitalism vs socialism

“ I say this because capitalism has failed numerous times. I don’t know whether there’s agreement, but, from 1825, there have been dozens and dozens of capitalist cycles of boom and bust, boom, bust, collapse. I mean, certainly we can remember the big ones, but there have been minor ones as well. Yet that system is always permitted to revive, or is revived, as we are seeing today. And the socialists, the communists and the socialists, had one attempt, which lasted seventy-five years and then collapsed, and everyone says it’s over. And in my opinion, that particular style of communism and that particular attempt may be over, but there is absolutely no reason why people shouldn’t think of better systems than the existing one, without going back to the worst of what the Soviet system was.“ (124-125)

On the book Blowback, which predicted 9/11

“Chalmers Johnson, who had worked as a consultant for the Central Intelligence Agency in the 1950s and came from an old naval family, wrote a book in 2000 called Blowback. The book offers a strong critique of US foreign policy. His basic argument was that, given what we have been doing to the rest of the world, it’s only a matter of time before some people take the law into their own hands and decide to hit us. And he developed this argument with great skill. When the book came out, it was either attacked by critics or ignored. He was astonished at the viciousness with which the book was received.” (133)

On terrorism

“This sort of nonsense has happened for a long time. It never really changes anything, but it makes people who carry out these acts feel good. It was referred to as “propaganda of the deed.” We’re showing we hate X and Y by doing this, even though none of these people they were attacking crumbled as a result.” (134)

On early American settlers and Al-Qadia

“ I mean, the fundamentalists who came here, the pilgrim fathers, had a way of thinking that wasn’t basically different from that of the Wahabis or Osama bin Laden. In fact, there are lots of similarities between Protestant fundamentalism and Wahabi fundamentalism, and you see that in how they treat women, all the campaigns.” (153)

Reading this book now in 2020, almost ten years after it’s publication, it still reads as a book of it’s time. This time was the years shortly after the W. Bush era when the 2008 Great Recession had just occurred and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their most unpopular. There was grand talk of the end of the American empire and really all this never stopped until the election of Obama, which greatly halted much of W. Bush’s blunders and errors to the back of people’s heads. There is also other talk of the day such as the talk of seeing the economic raise of China as a third way of sorts in the leadership of the world, not seeing the oncoming authoritarian turn with Xi Jinping, the praise of the South American pink wave which today is very much on the retreat and decline, and a very ambiguous view of Hispanics in the U.S. changing the way the country will live mostly due to their religious values, which I personally see Hispanic influence being like the previous large immigration of the Italians; that they will assimilate to the continuing American tradition.

This book is not for those who don’t know about history. It very much challenges conventional thought and the collective storyline of American history that we all agreed in in the short busts that we learned in highschool. Someone like me who is more knowledgeable in history did already know most of these explanations and ideas but I still appreciated Ali’s short and simple easy to read and understand takes on American history. I wished that Stone would challenge Ali in more items and really I wanted to hear Stone first since he was the reason why I read this book. But it turned out to be an alright experience. I’ll definitively be on the lookout for books by Tariq Ali now.

#on history #tariq ali #oliver stone #history #american history

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gospacegay · 7 years

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LRTIHEW: Part Four

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”.

First Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165808913233/lrtihew-part-one

Previous Chapter: https://gospacegay.tumblr.com/post/165835878803/lrtihew-part-three

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

“Well... You have a lot of experience with this but... I was thinking of killing my president.” Alfred stated bluntly. Ivan was shocked to hear this, keeping his expression blank. “He can not be that bad, Alfred.” Ivan objected, feeling a sick mix of joy and concern. This was definitely a real name type of conversation. The possibility of international anarchy was somewhat exciting.

“He's stripping human rights, deregulating the market... He's a fucking monster. I need to kill him.” Alfred insisted, expression steeled. “Can you ah... what is it... impeach him?” Ivan asked, still knitting. “It's going to take a year to work, and... He needs to be out now. He wants to go to war with China. Fucking China. That dude is as tough as you are.” his guest fretted, clearly losing his cool.

This was serious. China would look for allies and Ivan would be torn from his comfortable neutrality. The global markets... Ivan didn't want to think about what a potential market crash would do for his already struggling citizens. “Okay. I will help you kill him.” the Russian agreed, keeping his regular demeanour.

“Oh thank you! You have no idea how stressed out I've been about this!” Alfred crooned, sweeping Ivan into a massive hug. Not certain what to do, the taller nation awkwardly patted America on the back. “It will be fine, yes?” he soothed, or hoped he did. He wasn't very good at these positive types of interactions. Released, the Russian settled back in his rocking chair.

“Oh I'm so excited! I was thinking, oh he's not gonna go for it or be a huge dick, but oh my god you're so chill about this!” Alfred squealed happily, bouncing all over the place. “Yes, I am chill, as you say. Now, how do you wish to kill him?” Russia answered calmly. “I want to rip his head off.” Alfred answered quickly, expression dreamy as he clearly imagined it. Ivan couldn't help but truly smile, seeing a kindred spirit of carnal destruction for a few seconds. Maybe they could be friends, someday.

After a long night of scheming and evil plans, the duo ordered takeout from the functioning half of Moscow. Dinner was fish with fries, a heaping helping of coleslaw on the side. The dessert squares turned out to be nanaimo bars, which were absolutely delicious. After killing the bottle of vodka, a mostly sober Ivan and a drunk Alfred decided to sleep.

With the power still off, Ivan's bedroom had turned into an icebox. Alfred was largely useless, still unable to hold his liquor after two centuries. Must be a trait he inherited from England. Dragging a mattress from a long abandoned guest bedroom, Ivan set it up in the warm living room. A few dusty blankets later, everything was ready.

Getting comfortable, the tall Russian looked over at his guest. “Where am I supposed to sleep big dummy?” Alfred slurred, slumped over the worn love seat. “Wherever you wish, though it is advisable to share the mattress. Body heat is wonderful for blizzard survival” Ivan answered, meaning it in the most platonic way possible. He had saved many lost and cold travellers in the past by keeping them awake and close. It was possible to freeze to death even inside structures, if the heat couldn't stay in effectively.

“I'm not layin' with you commie. Uh, not commie. Whatever.” Alfred complained, correcting himself mid insult. “I am curious America. You have not called me communist for almost a year. Perhaps you have gleamed my reasons for the soviet union?” Ivan wondered out loud, one of several questions that weighed on his mind.

“Communists are still evil, and capitalism will always prevail.” The tanned American argued predictably, then sighed. He looked remorseful a moment, continuing, “But I'm trying not to hold it against you anymore. You were starving at the time, or at least your people were. Starving people do crazy things, like kill the royal family, or start cult societies. Evil stupid cult societies.”

Ivan had been hungry prior to the massacre that triggered the soviet union. Hungry enough to kill, to do something regrettable. His precious Romanovs had ignored the signs. He loved them, he did and always would, but they had been so dense. They took little heed of his condition, presuming him to be sick, ignoring his warnings. They died for that sin, painfully and horribly.

“At least you understand that much.” Ivan whispered, glad someone understood even a sliver of his motives. Rationing the few pieces of firewood left, Ivan tossed a few on to keep the heat in the room alive. Sleep came quickly, the cold of day having sapped Ivan of his energy. He slept poorly, shivering and getting up frequently to stoke the fire.

After an unknown amount of time Ivan woke to weak light of morning. The snow plastered windows filtered the room pale grey. A lukewarm America was wrapped tightly around him under the covers, still wearing that fluffy sweater. Fearing the worst, Ivan checked Alfred's pulse. It was much too slow. As dangerous as Ivan could get when enraged, he had no wish for people to die on his watch. Unless they particularly deserved it, life was indeed sacred.

The fire was completely dead today, the room plunged to hair raising temperatures. If Ivan was feeling uncomfortable in this environment, it could kill his temperate to subtropical guest. Using a newspaper as kindling, Ivan built the fire up again and started boiling water. Alfred was still unconscious, pulse low. “Please wake up America.” Russia muttered anxiously, taking off his treasured scarf and winding it around the other nation's neck and face. Desperate, he resorted to holding his guest close and attempting to rub heat into his back. He had to react to something!

After twenty fearful minutes, a very groggy America came back to life. “Never coming back here again.” he coughed, looking exhausted. Relieved, Ivan brought him a fresh extra strong coffee. “Drink, America. It is warm.” he urged, not giving the younger man a choice. “I am glad you are not dead. Your soon-to-be-murdered boss would be very displeased with my government.” Ivan commented once Alfred was fully revived.

“You mean... you still want to help? I thought all the plans were drunk talk.” Alfred answered, looking very happy. “This act will bind us as comrades.” Ivan purred, quite pleased. “What do you mean? Why are you acting like a bond villain?” Alfred demanded, looking apprehensive. “We will be friends, yes? Then you can return a big favor for me!” Ivan explained, letting his inner glee seep through his normally flat expressions.

“I'm not killing Putin. Even if he is a jerk.” Alfred refused, munching on freezing cold bread from the kitchen. “No, silly American. You will not bring harm to my boss. He is mine.” Russia replied with ease, not bothering to disguise his dark possessive nature towards the end. “Oooh, crushing much on the Putinator. You know hes getting old right?” Alfred teased, ignoring the warnings like always. Ivan scowled but said nothing. His favorite strong willed leader aging less than gracefully was a concern gnawing at the back of his mind.

After a cold breakfast of cereal and breads, the duo set to work shoveling out the front door. It took three hours of labor, but the punishing blizzard had finally settled in the night. The amber glow of street lamps came closer, humming to life one city block at a time. Finally, Ivan's house was live again. It was just in time for both of them to have hot showers before heading to the airport. They separated peacefully at the waiting area, for Alfred had a military jet on stand by.

They would not physically see each other again for many months. Convening too often would arouse suspicion, outside their normal boxes of behavior. While not dead, Alfred's president was almost immediately absent from office, horrendously ill. Ivan knew the man would be sleeping most days, vomiting and becoming blistered. The pain of the blisters would drive him to assured madness. He would eventually die, when his heart gave out from the stress. Ivan knew this intimately.

During the cold war, Ivan had entirely embraced the hate and darkness within. His people produced nuclear bombs, rockets, and guns never seen before. They also engineered insidious diseases, all of which ever left a laboratory. Strains of disease so virile they had to seal the files for then underground in hidden bunkers. The particular strain infecting the American president was so obscure, it's name was stripped from soviet records. It had a fatality rate of eighty percent, they highest they ever tested on dogs.

Although the president's death would be a bit on the flashy side, it could easily be explained away with deadly allergies to certain foods or alcohol. After all, the main catalyst for the disease had laced every drink the man had for months. His body was primed for any disease at all, immune system almost permanently crippled.

#lrtihew #rusame #russia #america #story #hetalia #aph

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