#but also me and target acted much more similar in our source

[fossys]

I think its so funny when i see stuff about my source because a lot of the time im written as this tired old parental figure (which is probably closer to my canon source maybe) but in system im just like. yea ive been around for centuries but i still just feel like a silly lil guy

[canmom]

mmo rp is kind of fundamentally not so different from RPing in any messaging program, something we've been doing since the days of IRC. the story you co-create is primarily driven by what's written in the text box. no matter how well made the emote animations are, they are not communicative enough to really tell a complex story, so you always fall back to prose. your character's voice will be limited to a handful of nonverbal expressions - a laugh, mm-hm, uh-huh. you are constantly having to reinterpret bits of game jank as you construct your mental version of the 'real story'. and yet

these visual aids do make a really substantial difference in how you experience it i think. to honestly a kind of surprising degree. of course having a character design on screen helps avoid writing tons of descriptive prose - but there's also a lot that can be done with simple movement through space, like a character positioning themselves besides another, retreating to sulk, getting up to dance.

like in visual novels and manga, you have essentially a set of codified, symbolic expressions - but in FFXIV, every race has its own set of very charming and polished animations for nearly every emote, which adds a huge amount of info in how you interpret that character (and slot them into the otaku database). a roegadyn will by default be loud and brash, a viera refined and dreamy, a lala mischievous and childlike. a mi'qote is a cat. since all of these are chosen by the player, they act as a strong signal of what your character's deal is - their body language comes across even if it's not like the actual scene fully acted out.

and what's fascinating to me is that even when i know what the player looks like irl, i still find myself responding to their game embodiment in how i think about them, i don't picture them irl... but also, having the embodiment helps me get into character. I have two alts, and with each one i feel drawn to a different style of roleplay. just like a list of prompts in a ttrpg sourcebook, the embodiment you've chosen gives you something to bounce off when you're improvising.

roleplaying is very similar to improv comedy, and many of the same analysis concepts - 'offers', 'yes, and' - apply. we're essentially improvising a digital puppet show. building up an RP venue and customising our model is a way of laying out props to help that process roll smoothly.

i often dream about an mmo animation system that would be less janky - more control over camera placement, better handling of interactions between player characters and characters with their environment, more ability to plan out timing and blocking and so on - essentially trending towards multiplayer source filmmaker.

the problem is that such a system would probably have way too much cognitive overhead to be usable in real time improv. i think what something like ffxiv shows is that even very simple elements - besides the emotes, your character looks towards your target and moves their lips when you talk, you can adjust their expression and there's animation hooks all over the place line chairs you can sit on - can actually be a very expressive palette and people are pretty good at filtering out the jank when they want to create a story together.

indeed, it becomes a skill - knowing what animations you have, how to reinterpret them, how to line yourself up with other players. and in the end you don't remember the time spent shuffling forwards and typing /hug again and again, or standing up and sitting down repeatedly until it lines up right. you remember the cute sight of your character sitting beside your friend, looking fondly at each other.

there's also another angle which is like... i find real life 'going out' very difficult - usually hitting a point of information overload very quickly in a pub environment, and while music is easier to manage than a wall of conversation, i never really learned how to interact with strangers at a club, concert, convention. I'm not good with alcohol. when i try to a pub, i usually end up retreating into myself and ducking out. in mmos, though... i find prose much more easy to be expressive in, and the limits of the animation system kind of level the playing field a bit in terms of The Autism when it comes to body language and the like.

still, sometimes it feels like a very sad existence - i rely on this simulacrum, pretending i am being intimate and social with people i can't touch through a computer program that draws triangles. everything in an mmo is muted, blunted by the medium - which makes it 'safe', but also tinges it with a loneliness that can't really be broken. but for now, i guess the simulacrum is all I've got, you know? and i can appreciate how it's put together, all the effort that has gone in from devs and players alike to realise this alternative channel for connection.

but yeah. i guess it comes back to this again... there's a reason my online 'face' is a low poly approximation of an animal!

[dogmetaph0r]

10, 13 (alfie - i mean i have to - plus one of your choice) and 14 for salty asks game 👉👈

OOOH HERE WE GOOO

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

I didn’t not like it narratively, but I didn’t particularly enjoy the whole arc of trying to get Linda and Arthur back together :/ I did appreciate it in a “fellas we are never breaking the cycle” way, but it kinda drove a wedge between me and my enjoyment of Arthur’s boyfailure arc at some points. Linda kinda reminds me of my adorable little WASP-y mom so seeing her threatened and upset because a man will do anything but go to therapy……eugh, hard watch.

13. Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

Alfie - this is gonna maybe be a bit controversial (or not? idk it took a while for me to wrap my noggin around the vibes) but……I don’t think Alf is all that religious? He is very very involved in his community and seems to be a well respected member of Jewish society in Camden Town, but idk how much he really practices in his day-to-day. I could be entirely wrong (would be happy for a Jewish PB fan to correct me if I am, and honestly I much prefer the headcanons that imply it matters a bit to him because as you’re about to see….I love cultural exchange) but Alfie’s irreverence and self-deification don’t really come across as terribly devout to me. If you consider the non-TV works to be canon, he definitely seems to be of the impression that nothing really matters beyond the carnal. He does seem to believe in a God, but that God’s existence isn’t really consequential to him. So I think his Jewish identity is more forged in community than shared reverence! I can relate, in a way; I never practiced Catholicism, but because my entire dad’s side did and I grew up in a highly Catholic neighborhood, it impacts how I interact with the world. So that’s how I kinda see it: it’s not the religion that he practices, but more the identity of someone raised with the religion.

I also wanna doooooo……..

Polly - she wasn’t always a wise, rational woman throughout the show. There were plenty of times she acted out of anger, fear, stubbornness… and while I do love that we kinda treat her as our voice of reason, she’s still as flawed as the rest of them. I feel like I’ve seen a lot of fics fall into the idea that Polly knows everything. It makes for a good story driver, but I feel like that unfortunately just doesn’t encompass who Polly is as a person. I don’t wanna ramble super long AGAIN but I think a lot of her interactions with/about Michael kinda demonstrate that. She’s easily blinded by her fear of loss in particular, and in a way it’s very similar to Tommy’s motivations. I think that’s part of why they butt heads sometimes. I’d like to explore that more myself!

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

Oooh boy, this one is kinda tough to say. But I think we have a looooong way to go as a fandom in terms of cultural sensitivity. I know we’re working with source material that already has a pretty problematic and shallow way of going about Romani characters, but I think it’s our duty as fans to sorta….grapple with that a bit? Address it with nuance? Or at least listen to POC, particularly Romani, creators who take issue with the things done in the show and in fan content. There are SO many aspects of the show itself that play into racist stereotypes about Romani people, and I’ve seen a number of tropes and fic concepts that revolve around those stereotypes in particularly shocking ways (for example, maybe don’t have “sold to the Shelby family” or “magical g**** fortune teller” as a plot point??? Many levels of inappropriate to that). I do largely give people the benefit of the doubt because I know that not everyone knows what to look out for, especially if they themselves are not targeted personally by bigotry in their communities, and fewer people know where to go to figure that out…. but I feel like specifically Romanichal culture is a strong enough theme in the show to warrant SOME promotion of cultural research. Of course we all have work to do (I’m no exception, and I wholeheartedly welcome concrit if anything in the story seems off) but I feel like some people really lean into exoticism and stereotypes without any unpacking of why they’re doing it. And, when other people express discomfort, I’ve seen more than once the sort of response that sums up to “well so-and-so said it’s not a slur/bad trope/stereotype so I’m gonna keep using it”. Thankfully it’s less prevalent here on tumblr but it’s still a problem! Let’s rid ourselves of the idea that any one culture is a monolith! Cultural exchange and education are exciting! Decolonize your writing! Respect and an open mind go a long way!

BUT YEAH basically that’s it teehee :•)

[stranger-rants]

Hey 👋

I've seen some recent anti posts where they're like "Dacre did SUCH a good job making us hate Billy" which is... just so wrong lmao.

They act like Dacre didn't put his heart, body, and mind into making Billy a sympathetic character (in contrast to the Duffers wanting another Henry Bowers).

Also... saying Billy is like Bowers is laughable tbh.

Henry targeted each and every kid in the losers club. He didn't have a sister that his father made him watch, like Billy did.

If anything, Bowers is closer to Jason Carver than any other character.

Well, Troy from s1 (and his pal, I think his name was James), too.

But I guess they were forgotten as well *sigh*

I saw someone say that Billy saying "it'll all be over soon" felt r*pish. He was possessed, and that same person also said that he'd told this to Max.

Seems to be a common theme in which some antis haven't actually watched the show.

Some die hard Steve fans who are antis, have even told me they either haven't watched s1, or they just straight up ignore s1 Steve.

As a survivor myself, I really wish antis would stop throwing around words like r*pe and abuse.

When they mention abuse, all they ever mention is Billy being the abuser. They don't talk about Neil, they don't talk about Lonnie, and they don't talk about Brenner (or Vecna).

Another thing I've noticed is that outside of our corner, the only other time this fandom mentions abuse is really just to further prove that a certain ship is canon.

Hey 👋🏻

It is funny, because Dacre has been very vocal about Billy having “flaws” but not being inherently bad or evil. He advocates so hard for imperfect victims, which is what I love about him. Billy would be nothing without Dacre, and I wish more actors had the guts to fight for better writing lol. The Duffers keep making shallow references to Stephen King’s work, and it makes me really wonder if they understood any of the major themes in his books. Granted, King was doing a lot of drugs when he wrote IT, but the story is still solidly inspired by real homophobic and racist violence in a small town as well as the general disregard for children and their safety. Stranger Things is based on conspiracy theories and government experimentation on people. Why they act like these two medias are comparable or need the same kinds of antagonists is just weird to me.

Henry Bowers was abused, too. Like, his father was a racist cop who antagonized Mike’s family for years and he was also violent towards his own son. Obviously, that had an impact on Henry who developed antisocial behavior. On the very surface, that seems similar to Billy. However, there is a big difference between them in terms of agency and the degree of harm. Billy’s violence was mostly reactive. There was a clear trigger (usually his dad). Henry sought out his victims to antagonize and he was very much addicted to the violence. IT was able to weaponize Henry because Henry wanted that power. He ended up killing his father without remorse. In order for the Mindflayer to weaponize Billy, it had to take over his mind and his body completely leaving Billy with little to no agency. Billy was consumed by guilt over what the Mindflayer made him do. His personality and reaction to trauma is nothing like Henry Bowers.

Henry is representative of the fear and hate prevalent in his small town, which is similar to Jason’s role last season in that regard. Their respective roles expose the prejudices of their communities. Billy’s role didn’t really do that. I don’t think the Duffers really thought about his purpose beyond being a “human antagonist” and a source of conflict for Max and Lucas (which…why was this necessary if they were never going to address it again?). There are obviously bigger bads whose entire shtick is Remorseless Abuser, and I’ve said before that this show *could* be about systematic abuse and fighting against it (including government/institutional abuse) but the Duffers hate survivors too much to explore that with any authenticity. So, we end up having to do that for them. This show and its fandom at large really are so shallow. All spectacle and trauma as decoration without critical thought.

[potteresque-ire]

This post is Part 5 of the five-part meta series on the Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) Incident, based on what has transpired up to 2021/08/22.

1) The 2nd Sino-Japanese War (1937-45) & the Yasukuni Shrine 2) Post-War Sino-Japanese Relations; “Every Chinese should visit the Yasukuni Shrine” 3) The Summer of 2021: The Brewing Storms for One 4) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part A 5) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part B

5) My Thoughts on Zhang’s Incident, Part B

As a highlight to the mob nature leading to Zhang’s downfall, please consider the timeline immediately before and after Zhang’s losing his endorsements on August 13th (or, why August 13th really mattered):

August 12th, evening: Zhang’s 2019 attendance of a wedding at the Nogi Shrine (乃木神社) went on Weibo hot search, and into public awareness. The Nogi Shrine (乃木神社) is of far less fame than the Yasukuni Shrine, but was named after a Japanese general of the Imperialist Japanese Army who was also the governor-general of then colonial Taiwan.

August 13th, ~ 2 am: netizens uncovered photos of Zhang’s 2018 visit to the Yasukuni Shrine, which were spread onto Weibo and made the hot search.

August 13th, 1:39 pm: Zhang posted his first letter of apology that began with: “Today, I’m ashamed of my once ignorant self, and furthermore, wants to apologise deeply for my past inappropriate behaviour.” (今天我為曾經無知的自己而羞愧，更要對之前不當行為深刻地道歉。)

August 13th, 2 pm: Nabuo Kishi, Japan’s current Minister of Defence, and a right-wing member of the House of Representative, Yasutoshi Nishimura, made an un-announced visit to the Yasukuni Shrine. The date was 2 days earlier than the 76th anniversary of Emperor Hirohito’s surrender speech (August 15th), as customary for Japanese officials to avoid visiting the shrine on significant anniversary dates of the war.

August 13th, 4:39 pm: People’s Daily (人民日報) published an online critique of Zhang’s apology. “… As a public figure, to be so lacking in historical knowledge, so unfeeling towards the suffering of the nation, it’s too inappropriate. On matters of righteousness of the nation, testing is not permissible, challenges are definitely not permissible. If knowingly committed, one would pay a heavy price.”  (。。。身為公眾人物，對歷史常識如此匱乏，對民族苦難渾然不覺，太不應該。事關民族大義，不容任何試探，更不容有任何挑戰。若明知故犯，就得付出沈重代價。)

August 13th, 5:05 pm: CCTV News (央視新聞) posted the video of Nabuo Kishi’s visit to the Yasukuni Shrine.

August 13th, 5:33: Zhang was dropped from his first endorsement. He would be dropped by all 27 of them within the next 5 hours.

August 13th, 5:35 pm: Zhang responded to People’s Daily’s critique piece, stating he shall repent and learn his lesson, and that as a Chinese, he loves his country and the CCP.

August 13th, ~6 pm: S. Korean news reported that the Korean Ministry of Foreign Affairs had summoned the Japanese ambassador in Korea to protest the visit of the Japanese Defence Minister to the Yasukuni Shrine.

August 13th, 6:26 pm: CCTV News (央視新聞) critiqued Zhang’s apology. “Whether to take photos in front of the Yasukuni Shrine, or to attend a wedding at the Nogi Shrine, Zhang Zhehan touched the wounds of history, hurt the feelings of the nation. It cannot be blamed on “once ignorance.” Just now, a Japanese Minister went to the Yasukuni Shrine for “demon worshipping” (Pie note: demon, from guizi 鬼子), China firmly opposes to this wrongdoing of Japanese high officials…” (無論在靖國神社前合影，還是到乃木神社參加婚禮，張哲瀚都觸碰了歷史傷痕，傷害了民族感情，不能簡單歸咎為「曾經無知」。就在剛剛，有日本大臣到靖國神社「拜鬼」，中方堅決反對日本政要這種錯誤做法。。。)

August 13th, 9 pm: China’s Ministry of National Defence answered press questions regarding the Yasukuni Shrine visit by Nabuo Kishi and Yasutoshi Nishimura.

Not only did Zhang’s incident happened in August, 2021, it happened on pretty much the worst day for him in August, 2021; the latest of his incident interleaved the unfolding news of the Japanese high officials’ visit to the Yasukuni Shrine.

What I’d like to call attention to, however, is this: Zhang’s endorsements didn’t begin dropping until *after* People’s Daily criticism.

If the companies had been genuinely offended by Zhang’s action, why was the wait necessary? If their Chinese feelings were genuinely hurt, why hadn’t they moved earlier, in the morning of August 13th, when Zhang’s visit went on hot search? Were these companies also ignorant about history, the significance of the the Yasukuni Shrine? The Chinese government has far more important things to worry about than an idol, but what about these companies that had paid good money for their spokesperson? That watch the public opinion, the market carefully?

Even if they didn’t care about the war themselves, why hadn’t they dropped Zhang based on the expected public opinion? What does that say about what these market experts believed, or knew about the public opinion? What does that say about their assessment of whether their potential customers would, as their actual selves, stop spending money on their products because of Zhang’s Yasukuni Shrine visit?

Were the act of dropping Zhang, then, more an act of performative patriotism than anything else? Once the first company started, the rest raced to follow for fear of being the slowest one, viewed as the least patriotic one. Hence, the 5-hour storm of endorsements abandoning Zhang. This herd ... mob behaviour, in which actions were either not taken or all taken at the same time, was also observed in the timing of different online platforms removing Zhang’s works, and fandom content with his name.

A “bingo card” for netizens to cross out Zhang’s endorsements as the sequential drops happened. Similar cards for Kris Wu had circulated in July. 

Were WoH and Zhang’s other group projects removed because Zhang was unpatriotic, or was it because the online platforms (and the tech giants behind them) were trying to protect themselves? Youku explained WoH’s first-time removal as a technical glitch but then, as reports of other platforms removing Zhang’s content poured in, the series was removed again.  

How much is real when it comes to the thunderous online declarations of love and betrayal against China? 

Related to this: turtles may remember the Xinjiang cotton incident in March, 2021, how Chinese netizens harassed anyone who used, endorsed Nike. One may assume, with that outcry, that rage, that anyone with a reputation to keep, with ties to the Chinese state, in particular, have severed their ties with the brand.

As it turns out, the teams of the Chinese Super (Football) League, for example, have kept their Nike kits. The Chinese Football Association (CFA), which, despite being officially non-governmental and nonprofit, is managed by the State General Administration of Sports (國家體育總局), issued a statement on March 27th on Weibo that only criticised Nike’s “wrong actions in choosing its cotton source” (對耐克公司在棉花原料選擇上的錯誤行徑表達了譴責), and reserved “its right to further deal with  contract with Nike” (保留進一步處理同耐克合同的權力). It never cut off the contract with Nike: a 10-year sponsorship,  signed in 2018, which amounts to 3 million RMB (463,000 USD) in funds from Nike for each football club every year. The CFA statement was later removed from Weibo. Photos of the football players have simply had the Nike Swoosh covered up, or photoshopped away. 

Photos from the Shanghai Shenhua football club, with and without the swoosh (Source).

Life is practical in China … and darkly humorous, at times. As a Mao-founded regime should be, perhaps.

I got Asks wondering then: will our non-Zhang-related favourite stars and CPs, dramas and fandoms get affected by the incident?

At the moment, my guess leans towards a no. My basis is this: in the critique piece against Zhang, published on 2021/08/16, by 中纪委 Central Commission for Discipline Inspection—the CCDI, by the way, is the highest anti-corruption, rules and regulations body in China—I believe the reason Zhang was disciplined was clearly stated:

對於所有「拜鬼」��為，中國都堅決反對。但如果我們國內的公眾人物去靖國神社都不被譴責和追究，我們又怎麼挺直腰桿要求外國人不去呢？

“Regarding all “demon worship” behaviour, China holds firm oppositions. But if our own public figures going to the Yasukuni Shrine get no reprimands, no investigations of responsibility, how can we straighten our backs and demand foreigners to not go?”

This has led me to think the state has no ulterior motives in targeting Zhang: Zhang’s “sin” was limited to his visiting the Yasukuni Shrine as a well-known, public figure, and/but that was enough. And the punishment had to be given in a heavy-handed, high profile manner, given the “news “of Zhang’s visit broke out on August 13, 2021. The following observation may be my being over-sensitive, but in the timeline above, Zhang was reprimanded, and his first round of the punishment in full swing (dropping of endorsements), before the China’s Ministry of National Defence talked to the press, which happened later than it had to be (compare the timing with S. Korea’s). Short of removing Zhang’s hot searches—which netizens would’ve noticed—this ordering of events was necessary; otherwise, the Chinese government issuing a formal complaint against Japan for their Minister of Defence’s visit to the shrine would’ve co-existed on the hot search with the report of China’s own celebrity visiting the same place. I therefore believe the state’s reaction had nothing to do with how Zhang achieved his fame, the past and present projects he was involved in, the CPs he was coupled with. Other state agencies and media would likely be careful about not attaching these topics to Zhang’s case as well, so not to distract from the central message of the government that … the Japanese are very bad people in the summer of 2021.

(Whether they’ll attach them to the Clear and Bright campaign is another matter.) 

Another Ask ~ Will Zhang be able to make a comeback? In five years? Ten?

Looking that far ahead is difficult, but one thing has to happen for Zhang to return—the Japanese have to stop being very bad people according to the Chinese government, which isn’t likely to happen soon. The Japanese government has shown few signs that they shall soon revise their attitudes towards their World War II history  (Yasutoshi Nishimura, who went to the Shrine with Japan’s Minister of Defence on August 13th, is associated with a historical revisionist group), while China’s escalating military aggression in the Indo-Pacific region will be seen as a growing threat to Japan, likely push the country towards the right. 

And 5, 10 years later, Zhang will be 35, 40 years old. Even if he’ll be able to work in the industry again, it’ll be difficult for him to achieve the fame he has before. Also, just because the government no longer bans him doesn’t mean production companies will be willing to hire him; he’ll be considered high risk—policies of China are volatile, after all, and the decision to un-ban can be easily reversed.

(I’m so sorry, Anon, I wish I have a better answer for you.)

And... here’s a thought I’ll finally end this meta series with. I don’t see Zhang as the only loser in this incident. I don’t really see any winners in this incident at all. An industry is dangerous for its every worker if its narrative, its list of guilty is penned by cyber mobs and in the name of patriotism; if the accused cannot speak for themselves, aren’t allowed to grow; if its rules of appropriate conduct are every-changing (The Reporter in 2017 = OK; Zhang in 2018 = Not OK); if its workers are penalised not by their own deeds but their associations (the rest of the cast and production team of WoH and other Zhang-associated projects).

The think tank for the National Ratio and Television Authority (國家廣播電視總局; NRTA, ie, the Chinese visual media censorship board), in their criticism piece about Zhang, hinted at even rougher waters ahead, in light of Zhang’s (and Kris Wu’s) transgressions:

明星頻頻「犯事」，說到底還是行業內對明星藝德約束不夠嚴格。據瞭解，電影行業正在籌備全國電影界道德委員會，將對電影從業人員道德規範提出更高要求，並提出，要將明星藝德納入法治化的軌道中來，給明星藝德約束加一道法規之鎖，明確明星的責任和義務，將明星的個人行為與職業利益掛鈎。 “The ultimate cause of stars “getting into trouble” frequently is that the industry has not tied a sufficiently severe bind on the stars’ artistic virtue (Pie note: roughly, = professional ethics). Based on reports, the film industry is preparing a National Film Industry Morality Committee that shall raise the moral requirements for film industry workers. The industry has also suggested that the stars’ artistic virtue shall eventually be governed by laws, to add a lock of legality to the bind of artistic virtues for the stars, to make clear the stars’ responsibilities and obligations, to couple a star’s personal behaviour with their professional (monetary) gains.”

My interpretation of this: should the suggestions become reality, it shall be written in future film contracts that a star who commits an act that the state considers immoral will have to pay the investors the production cost of their projects, and possibly, the projected profit. 

To put some dollar signs to this interpretation: a high-profile star may work on one or more projects with a price tag in the order of 100 million RMB (~15 million USD); box office, merchandise sells, and long term profits expected from online streaming can raise that number by several fold. This is a sum that even the most affluent stars will have a difficult time affording—and that’s before considering the endorsements, for which current contracts already require the stars to pay the damages.

The key word here is that the offending act only has to be considered immoral, not criminal. Immoral acts range from not liking the CCP enough—an easy-to-understand offence—to deviation from the society’s 公序良俗 (“public order and fine customs”), which includes just about anything that disagrees with the state-defined mainstream values.

Stars are stars because they invite the imaginations of their audience, because they break boundaries: from the seemingly insurmountable humdrum of daily life, to something that can be much, much more.

Stars should, of course, be law-abiding; they should be patriotic. But a star who’s mainstream in every way? Are they still a star, something we regular people wonder about, dream upon?

Bind and lock, the NRTA think tank referred to these suggestions. It reminders me of a quote by the famous Chinese director, Feng Xiaogang (馮小剛), who, in 2014, complained to BBC—perhaps in a slip of tongue—that Chinese directors could be like “dancing with fetters” (戴著腳鐐去跳舞) when working with the country’s censorship system.

Yeah. It’s kinda like that.

===

The Zhang Zhehan Incident Meta Series:

PART 1  PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 <- YOU ARE HERE

[hughhowey]

Theory of Mind -- Part Three

The day before I took 5-MeO-DMT, I was nervous. The only thing I knew about this drug is that my drug-loving friends told me it was INTENSE. "You are strapping yourself to a rocketship," one friend said. Even my Burning Man buddies didn't want me to try it. The night they took DMT, they went off and did it in a bit of a private ritual. There was no way I was ready for this, and I was completely fine with that.

DMT is a naturally occurring substance, which is also true of snake venom, Uranium, and asbestos. I don't suffer from the naturalistic fallacy and neither should you. But there is reason to suspect that DMT's presence in plants and animals gives credence to the insights its ingestion can bring. Much more on that in a moment. For now, it's worth knowing that this is a chemical compound found on the backs of at least one species of toad, possibly to ward off predators who might dare pick it up to eat it, which makes its synthesis and use as a recreational drug all the more odd and fascinating.

It's worth noting here that there are lots of drugs that I will not touch with a thousand foot pole, much to the amusement of my friends who view them as not-that-big-of-a-deal. I've never tried cocaine and have zero interest in it. Not a single speck. This won't sound like a big deal to readers who can't imagine trying any drug, but in some circles coke is done casually. My fear of it seems odd to them. Which makes it really strange that I was about to take something that is considered far more hardcore.

"Exhale until you can't exhale any more," the shaman said. "After this, exhale even more. Then I'll put the pipe in your lips and I want you to inhale for the count of ten."

One of my best friends stood at the end of the bed. I asked if he wanted to come sit by me before I started. Another friend sat on my right. I exhaled, exhaled some more, then inhaled a huge dose of DMT.

The best way to describe the experience is that you begin to disappear, or peel away, one layer at a time. There's a tingling sensation, your thoughts become static, or like pixels, disjointed from each other, but somehow the part of you that knows things exist is still there.

Here is what separates DMT from unconsciousness: you are still awake. You are dimly aware. But your ability to process, to form a small stream of thought, is disrupted.

What I suspect is happening is that the filters that make sentient human life possible are removed. It's our ability to forget that makes memory powerful, otherwise we would remember too much, things that are inconsequential, and these would crowd out what's important. It's our ability to not see everything in our field of view that makes attention possible, otherwise the glint of light on the edge of that doorknob would hold too much sway. Our brains are miraculous in that they turn most things down and tune most things out. Drugs often widen those apertures, letting far more in.

There is an exception with DMT, a substance which I think is turning some modules off. The most targeted of these is the theory of mind module. Theory of mind is by far the most important concept in human cognition for us to learn about and understand. It's what we spend most of our cognition calories on. Theory of mind is the act of wondering what others are thinking about. What they think others are thinking about. It's a power that gets turned on ourselves, as we constantly wonder what we are thinking about, or why we did something, or what we should do next, or if something we did was a mistake, and so on.

Theory of mind is the source of all anxiety, introspection, gossip, socializing, planning, regret, ego, and so much more.

In many ways, our view of ourselves is similar to the view I had of people passing by from a skyscaper many years ago. We look at ourselves from the outside, see ourselves moving through life and time, and we fashion a story about that person's experiences. When I took DMT, that self-sight began to melt.

I could still hear the shaman, who asked if I wanted to go deeper. "Yes," I told him. My eyes were closed, my vision a blur of shapes and colors, but I understood that I needed to exhale and inhale for as long as I could. The music dipped and rose and swirled around me. I felt the second inhaler pressed to my lips, the "medium" strength dose. I took in as much as I could for as long as I could until it was pulled away.

The sense of flight was palpable. The sense that my place in the universe was moving, moving. I fell toward the center of myself, and even as I lost my ability to watch this happen, I felt another layer of awareness-of-self rise up to watch this happening, and that layer fell away as well, and this cycle of awareness and loss of awareness repeated itself over a dozen times, my ability to fashion theory of mind stripped away like the layers of an onion melting and dripping off to the ether.

"There goes the last of my ability to watch what's happening to me," I thought to myself. And then I became aware of a smaller, dimmer observer deep inside that was watching THIS happen. But it would get stripped away, and I would be sure it was the last of my ability to observe myself, but even as I became aware of that layer it too was gone. Down to the center. To the last little bit of me who could look in any sort of mirror. And then the mirror vanished as well--

It felt like it lasted a long time. I was aware at one point that I was touching my friends, feeling for them. They say that I was talking, expressing a sense of gratitude. It's what I felt. I felt full of contentment, awe, and love. A sense of meaning and self-worth, but devoid of ego. Devoid of the need to express that I was devoid of ego. It was a recursive joy, bent back around on top of itself. An ouroboros of love.

When I came out of the experience, I was overwhelmed with a sense of satisfaction and fullness. The shaman asked if I wanted to go deeper. "Yes," I said. "There will be a door, with ten steps leading up to that door. I want you to breathe for each step as you walk up and pass through the door." He said this as the third and most potent of the vape pens was brought to my lips, and what I experienced the first two times was dialed up to a thousand, and I ceased to exist while knowing that the rest of the universe was still there.

The theory of mind machine was shut down completely. Absolutely. No need for thoughts, either my own or anyone else's. No judgement. I didn't care what it looked like to do drugs in front of sober people. I didn't care if anyone was being put out by my presence. I didn't care because I couldn't care. But I was still awake and me. I wasn't unconscious. And it turns out that the sort of rest, of real relaxation, that one gets from being fully yourself without viewing yourself is unparalleled.

I melted. I sagged into a void. I'm told that I held my forehead during this part and kept whispering "I get it. I get it. It's so beautiful" and the like. At one point I rolled around on my belly and back again, writhing in what felt and apparently looked like pure euphoria.

When I opened my eyes, my friend was crying. Tears streaming down his face. I asked my other friend to lay with me, and she curled up against my body and we held each other. It was about 45 minutes of my life, and it signified a border between one existence and another.

My shaman told me that I'd go through a door that I could enter back through any time I liked, and I didn't believe him before this experience. But the next morning, I played the same music over again and fell into a similar trance of relaxation and pure calm. A week later I was sitting on my sofa and breathed deeply through my nose a few times and had a full-on DMT experience. To this day, I can reach up and hold the doorknob of that door and feel small concerns that arise from theory of mind skitter off and disappear.

People have likened the DMT experience to ten thousand hours of therapy. Or ten thousand hours of meditation. My shaman calls the substance a "magic trick" given to us by the universe. It requires almost no preparation or guidance. It is being used to treat PTSD in veterans in a trial in Mexico with incredible results. There are small knots in our brains, put there by our brains themselves, that become straightened out and aligned. The nearest thing in my life that I can compare it to is the patience and calm that I acquired from sailing across oceans.

I was with a small group of people a month later, and two of the women in the group relayed a similar experience, saying it was the most profound moment of their lives, a crisp sharp line between their "before" selves and their current selves. It matched what I felt. I believe this substance is used by toads and plants to make their would-be-predator lose any plans-for-self for a short duration. It short-circuits the ability to see oneself in relation to others. It isn't just the user's mind that disappears, it is all other minds.

My shaman said that it's uncommon for people to sit up and open their eyes during the heaviest dose of 5MEO-DMT. But in the middle of my deepest plunge into the unknown, I did just that. I opened my eyes and lifted my chin and looked up at the ceiling, and there were three faces looking down at me. Three gods with eyes glowing white, illumination shining around and through them. It was the shaman and my friends, and I was aware of them but not of any thoughts they could possibly have, any awareness of me, or my awareness of them. The only bucket my brain could place such a thing into was "deity." And so that's what it fashioned them into.

It was rapturous, seeing them like that. And being seen with zero judgement in return. It was the moment that I took away above all others, realizing that our concepts of God and gods are completely backwards. That archetype of God as one who judges is the opposite of reality. The presence of god is the absence of judgement. It is complete and unblinking acceptance.

I started the day worried what I would look like on drugs in front of sober friends. I worried that I was putting them out to ask them to be with me for half an hour of their day. Those old thoughts -- the need to please everyone and be some kind of social glue -- was a pressure put on myself, buttressed by constant theory of mind calculations, and when they went away completely, they were never able to return to their original strength.

My shaman said that each person who takes this journey gets whatever it is that they need, and I see how this might be possible. The drug doesn't "target" what's uniquely wrong with us, it targets the universal part of all of us that is wondering what "might be wrong with us." The mental knot-maker. And with one slash, we wriggle free.

[bountyhunter-s-bane]

Thunderstorm

Pairings: Cad Bane x M!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: Cad Bane and his apprentice hunter (Reader) wait out a thunderstorm on Ryloth. Neither seem to have much fondness for the weather (content warning for astraphobia)

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

Your latest hunt brought the pair of you to Ryloth. Not perhaps the wide welcoming landscapes or the friendlier towns (under siege by the Separatist forces), but every planet seemed to have a hidey-hole for the less hospitable kinds of people, such as smugglers and bounty hunters such as yourselves. This one was a bar stuck into the side of a cliff and surrounded by dozens and dozens of ramshackle huts for refugees trapped on the planet, either trying to eke out a living or waiting for the first opportunity to get to somewhere safer.

Cad Bane left his freighter outside the outskirts of this shanty town, and instructed you to stay and keep watch whilst he got to business. As you were left sitting there and waiting, staring at the lack of scenery, you figured you would have preferred to join him at the bar. The air was muggy and heavy and the wrong kind of warm, all alluding to the thick black clouds gathering on the horizon. Where you were now however was bright sunshine, and to keep from melting you took shelter under the wing of the fighter with Todo as company. The droid kept up light conversation, both of you bouncing discussion back and forth regarding your latest job. This one was apparently meant to be person gathering over information gathering, something that Cad tended to interchange depending on the current prices going. Both were often available after all, and both could be equally dangerous and fleeting. But for now, you were waiting on your contact to gain the whole picture for what you and Cad would be collecting.

The clouds were almost overhead before Cad returned from his meeting, about as stormy as the oncoming weather.

“Trouble?” you asked.

“Our information and money source didn’t turn up on time,” he grumbled. “I commed him only to find out he’s not going to be in until tomorrow. Waste of time.” He turned and thumped a hand against the side of the freighter, face wrinkled up further from frustration. You remained calm, albeit disappointed as well. The waiting times between missions were often the dullest times you had to deal with. Being made to wait reeked of a particular kind of person that neither of you enjoyed working for, so long as they paid up at the end.

“So we stay the night, wait for him in the morning,” you said, folding your arms as you lean against the side of the freighter. Cad looked down to you, an expression of grim resignation on his face. Taking a moment to rub at the bridge of his nose, he heaved out a tired sigh.

“That’s right,” he replied. You watched him as he slowly sat down on the ground next to yourself and Todo, digging into his coat for a toothpick to start chewing on. His irritation was rolling off him in waves. If you disliked being made to wait, he hated it. Sure, he could be patient while waiting on a target to come out into the open, but there was a difference between patience and being practically grounded on the planet. As he stared up towards the line of black clouds, he felt a gentle weight lean against his side. You shuffled quietly into more of a comfortable position, thinking perhaps that the motion was subtle, up until he raised an arm away from you and draped it heavily over your shoulders.

“The view’s nice at least,” you commented.

“I can agree to that. ‘Least until that storm hits.”

 -

The storm finally broke a few hours later, the tension in the air about as thick as soup. Cad tasked you with going out and finding a place to get food from, which was much easier said than done when wandering about a ramshackle village. Eventually you were able to find a Twi’lek family serving out some wrapped up meals, a couple portions of which you obtained having bargained several credits and an hour of small-talk. It was difficult to bring in any information into this place, so people were getting what they could however they could. While the family seemed keen to move on, they weren’t going to risk getting a ride out with a bounty hunter and his apprentice, it seemed.

A sheet of rain cascaded down, causing you to flee back to the freighter, shielding several foil-wrapped parcels of hot bread and hunks of dried meat under your coat. There wasn’t exactly a kitchen or a section of the ship where a person would sit and eat, and so normally you and Cad would simply eat meals in the freighter’s cockpit where there were seats. Tonight Cad had set up a small burner for heat and extra light, over which you could hang up your sodden coat. With the majority dampness deposited to dry off, you handed over his portions in silence and plopped down into one of the seats. Raindrops pattered across the front viewport, filling some of the empty space as you both dug into the meal.

“It’s weird. It’s raining but still kind of warm”, you commented.

“That’s Ryloth storms for you. Be grateful for the warmth, it’ll get real chilly at night”, Cad replied.

Lightning flashed in the distance. You counted the passing seconds under your breath and around mouthfuls of food. Eventually the grrmmm of thunder sounded, but not before several other flashes of lightning had struck. The distant sound sent cold shudders down your back.

“Shouldn’t we be worried about the ship?” you asked nervously.

“It’s parked close enough to the cliff. Natural lightning rod. It’ll be fine,” Cad replied, hand-waving your concern. He trusted his own intuition on keeping his possessions safe, and so leaned back in his seat as he watched you sit back as well. 

“…I can’t actually remember the last time I saw a proper thunderstorm.”

“Don’t be sappy, lad. You get used to them, and sure get to hate them with some of the planets we gotta work on.”

“I’m not being sappy. I’m being grateful.” 

The lightning got closer, brighter. The thunder started to sound closer to each flash, becoming more harsh until it wasn’t a grumble and more of a CRACK. Cad blinked slowly, feeling more lethargic with the evening rolling in but still very much perceptive of the room. The lightning kept him on edge - too similar to a blaster flashing blue. He could see each flinch you made, the way you recoiled from the viewport in time with the loud thunder. It wasn’t the usual sort of fear he saw on your face when the pair of you faced a situation that had gotten out of hand, that sort of fear came with excitement and adrenaline. This fear was paired with a cold helplessness. 

“C’mon, get up,” he grumbled, getting to his feet and pulling you up from your seat as well, reaching out for the burner. “It’s getting late. It’s quieter in the bunk room anyway.” 

“It is?” 

“Yeah. Makes it easier to sleep and all.” For all his snark, there was an ulterior intent to Cad nudging you out from the cockpit. Discomfort remained in his gut even after moving you away, even now in the soft quiet where you relaxed. No rumbling thunder in here. True to Cad’s earlier warning, it’d gotten quite a bit colder, even in the cramped interior of the freighter’s bunk room. The burner was set on the holotable and cranked up, but that wasn’t going to keep anyone warm without hugging the little machine, and no-one wanted to burn the engine fuel for a cosy night if you were on ground instead of in space.

The silence turned weirdly heavy as you kicked off your boots and Cad draped his coat over one of the seats. You were already shivering from the change of temperature, and Cad wasn’t looking too hot either. By the time you’d set aside your jacket, you were glancing from your own personal bunk to the space that was blankets and leathers and pillows that Cad had built up for himself over time. While you were glancing at the bunk, Cad was looking at you. You were pretty sure you both had the same idea. And while you were hesitant to suggest it, Cad was anything but shy.

“Peh, get over here.” He grabbed your wrist and tugged you over the bunk. “If you got ill from the cold that’d cost us both credits and time.”

Your continued hesitation got you a firm nudge in the back that sent you teetering over to fall into the bedding.

“Kriff’s sake, that was uncalled for!” you snapped, much to Cad’s delight.

“Come on, you were acting like I was going to bite you.” His sly smile became a grin. “I mean, unless you-” 

“That is a conversation for another time,” you said, feeling heat rise rapidly in your cheeks. Cad snorted, sitting down into the bunk as well.

“Seems like the perfect time for this conversation.” Whatever response you had died on your lips as you felt a slight rumble through the ship, just noticeable enough to catch your attention. Cad noticed it too, the heated look in his eyes fading as the moment slipped itself into the cold room, and he settled in close to your side. 

“....So….” Your words trailed off.

“Just get your rest. And stay close to me.”

 -

Rain clattered softly off the metal overhead as the thunderstorm passed overhead. Sometimes you could feel another rattle in the metal of the ship, and you wondered whether it was thunder or your own imagination. Cad was fast asleep, but part of you knew that he’d be awake the moment something bad happened. He’d also managed to coil himself around you, contact generating warmth while one arm rested heavily over your chest. Possessive. Comforting. For all his grit and teeth (and you did think about those teeth more than you probably needed to), he pulled out stops to keep you alive and well under his wing. You’d noticed this protective streak with all his possessions, and wondering if he considered you as such. And really, how bad was that in the end, when he held you like this and gave you that smug grin that caught your tongue so often.

You relaxed and let yourself fall asleep as well, to the sound of the rain.

[didanawisgi]

Martin Luther King Jr., Guns, and a Book Everyone Should Read

BY JEREMY S. | JAN 15, 2018

“Martin Luther King Jr. would have been 89 years old today, were he not assassinated in 1968. On the third Monday in January we observe MLK Jr. Day and celebrate his achievements in advancing civil rights for African Americans and others. While Dr. King was a big advocate of peaceful assembly and protest, he wasn’t, at least for most of his life, against the use of firearms for self-defense. In fact, he employed them . . .

If it wasn’t for African Americans in the South, primarily, taking up arms almost without exception during the post-Civil War reconstruction and well into the civil rights movement, this country wouldn’t be what it is today.

By force and threat of arms African Americans protected themselves, their families, their homes, and their rights and won the attention and respect of the powers that be. In a lawless, post-Civil War South they stayed alive while faced with, at best, an indifferent government and, at worst, state-sponsored violence against them.

We know the Supreme Court’s Dred Scott decision of 1857 refused to recognize black people as citizens. Heck, they were deemed just three-fifths a person. Not often mentioned in school: some of that was due to gun rights. Namely, not wanting to give gun rights to blacks. Because if they were to recognize blacks as citizens, it…

“…would give to persons of the negro race . . . the right to enter every other State whenever they pleased, . . . and it would give them the full liberty of speech . . . ; to hold public meetings upon political affairs, and to keep and carry arms wherever they went.”

Ahha! So the Second Amendment was considered an individual right, protecting a citizen’s natural, inalienable right to keep and carry arms wherever they go. Then as now, gun control is rooted in racism.

During reconstruction, African Americans were legally citizens but were not always treated as such. Practically every African American home had a shotgun — or shotguns — and they needed it, too. Forget police protection, as those same officials were often in white robes during their time off.

Fast forward to the American civil rights movement and we learn, but again not at school, that Martin Luther King Jr. applied for a concealed carry permit. He (an upstanding minister, mind you) was denied.

Then as in many cases even now, especially in blue states uniquely and ironically so concerned about “fairness,” permitting was subjective (“may issue” rather than “shall issue”). The wealthy and politically connected receive their rights, but the poor, the uneducated, the undesired masses, not so much.

Up until late in his life, MLK Jr. chose to be protected by the Deacons for Defense. Though his home was also apparently a bit of an arsenal.

African Americans won their rights and protected their lives with pervasive firearms ownership. But we don’t learn about this. We don’t know about this. It has been unfortunately whitewashed from our history classes and our discourse.

Hidden, apparently, as part of an agreement (or at least an understanding) reached upon the conclusion of the civil rights movement.

Sure, the government is going to protect you now and help you and give you all of the rights you want, but you have to give up your guns. Turn them in. Create a culture of deference to the government. Be peaceable and non-threatening and harmless. And arm-less, as it were (and vote Democrat). African Americans did turn them in, physically and culturally.

That, at least, is an argument made late in Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms. It’s a fantastic book, teaching primarily through anecdotes of particular African American figures throughout history just how important firearms were to them. I learned so-freaking-much from this novel, and couldn’t recommend it more. If you have any interest in gun rights, civil rights, and/or African American history, it’s an absolute must-read.

Some text I highlighted on my Kindle Paperwhite when I read it in 2014:

But Southern blacks had to navigate the first generation of American arms-control laws, explicitly racist statutes starting as early as Virginia’s 1680 law, barring clubs, guns, or swords to both slaves and free blacks.

“…he who would be free, himself must strike the blow.”

In 1846, white abolitionist congressman Joshua Giddings of Ohio gave a speech on the floor of the House of Representatives, advocating distribution of arms to fugitive slaves.

Civil-rights activist James Forman would comment in the 1960s that blacks in the movement were widely armed and that there was hardly a black home in the South without its shotgun or rifle.

A letter from a teacher at a freedmen’s school in Maryland demonstrates one set of concerns. The letter contains the standard complaints about racist attacks on the school and then describes one strand of the local response. “Both the Mayor and the sheriff have warned the colored people to go armed to school, (which they do) [and] the superintendent of schools came down and brought me a revolver.”

Low black turnout resulted in a Democratic victory in the majority black Republican congressional district.

Other political violence of the Reconstruction era centered on official Negro state militias operating under radical Republican administrations.

“The Winchester rifle deserves a place of honor in every Black home.” So said Ida B. Wells.

Fortune responded with an essay titled “The Stand and Be Shot or Shoot and Stand Policy”: “We have no disposition to fan the coals of race discord,” Thomas explained, “but when colored men are assailed they have a perfect right to stand their ground. If they run away like cowards they will be regarded as inferior and worthy to be shot; but if they stand their ground manfully, and do their own a share of the shooting they will be respected and by doing so they will lessen the propensity of white roughs to incite to riot.”

He used state funds to provide guns and ammunition to people who were under threat of attack.

“Medgar was nonviolent, but he had six guns in the kitchen and living room.”

“The weapons that you have are not to kill people with — killing is wrong. Your guns are to protect your families — to stop them from being killed. Let the Klan ride, but if they try to do wrong against you, stop them. If we’re ever going to win this fight we got to have a clean record. Stay here, my friends, you are needed most here, stay and protect your homes.”

In 2008 and 2010, the NAACP filed amicus briefs to the United States Supreme Court, supporting blanket gun bans in Washington, DC, and Chicago. Losing those arguments, one of the association’s lawyers wrote in a prominent journal that recrafting the constitutional right to arms to allow targeted gun prohibition in black enclaves should be a core plank of the modern civil-rights agenda.

Wilkins viewed the failure to pursue black criminals as overt state malevolence and evidence of an attitude that “there’s one more Negro killed — the more of ’em dead, the less to bother us. Don’t spend too much money running down the killer — he may kill another.”

But it puts things in perspective to note that swimming pool accidents account for more deaths of minors than all forms of death by firearm (accident, homicide, and suicide).

The correlation of very high murder rates with low gun ownership in African American communities simply does not bear out the notion that disarming the populace as a whole will disarm and prevent murder by potential murderers.

Centers for Disease Control (CDC) estimated 1,900,000 annual episodes where someone in the home retrieved a firearm in response to a suspected illegal entry. There were roughly half a million instances where the armed householder confronted and chased off the intruder.

A study of active burglars found that one of the greatest risks faced by residential burglars is being injured or killed by occupants of a targeted dwelling. Many reported that this was their greatest fear and a far greater worry than being caught by police.48 The data bear out the instinct. Home invaders in the United States are more at risk of being shot in the act than of going to prison.49 Because burglars do not know which homes have a gun, people who do not own guns enjoy free-rider benefits because of the deterrent effect of others owning guns. In a survey of convicted felons conducted for the National Institute of Justice, 34 percent of them reported being “scared off, shot at, wounded or captured by an armed victim.” Nearly 40 percent had refrained from attempting a crime because they worried the target was armed. Fifty-six percent said that they would not attack someone they knew was armed and 74 percent agreed that “one reason burglars avoid houses where people are at home is that they fear being shot.”

In the period before Florida adopted its “shall issue” concealed-carry laws, the Orlando Police Department conducted a widely advertised program of firearms training for women. The program was started in response to reports that women in the city were buying guns at an increased rate after an uptick in sexual assaults. The program aimed to help women gun owners become safe and proficient. Over the next year, rape declined by 88 percent. Burglary fell by 25 percent. Nationally these rates were increasing and no other city with a population over 100,000 experienced similar decreases during the period.55 Rape increased by 7 percent nationally and by 5 percent elsewhere in Florida.

As you can see, Negroes and the Gun progresses more or less chronologically, spending the last portion of the book discussing modern-day gun control. It’s an invaluable source of ammunition (if you’ll pardon the expression) against the fallacies of the pro-gun-control platform. It sheds light on a little-known (if not purposefully obfuscated), critical factor in the history of African Americans: firearms.

On this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I highly recommend you — yes, you — read Negroes and the Gun: the Black Tradition of Arms.

And I’ll wrap this up with a quote in a Huffington Post article given by Maj Toure of Black Guns Matter: 

https://cdn0.thetruthaboutguns.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/huffpo-maj-toure.jpg”

[nat-20s]

what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days.  I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and  serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

[mashkaroom]

Lengthy analysis of Holes, as promised!. This will include spoilers, which will be marked. Just gonna go through the book and the philosophy/themes/connections I caught onto this time around. Stuff discussed, in order: connections to Camus, on the question of children’s books, systems, cycles, and why Stanley is gay and jewish 😏

Camus:

The first and perhaps most obvious set of texts/theories it makes sense to put Holes in conversation with is the works of Albert Camus. Holes starts out with a description of the sun and the heat, which readers of the Stranger will remember are major themes there. The heat continues to be a prominent part of the story, though thematically, it functions very differently in the two books. In The Stranger it primarily represents the indifference of the universe (or at least so claim a ton of sources and I’m inclined to agree) and the lack of control we exert over our own lives while in Holes it’s basically the opposite of that. The heat and drought is implied to be a semi-divine punishment for a past injustice and, moreover, the elite adults of the camp have air conditioning and access to shade: the sun does not affect everyone equally in Holes as it does in The Stranger (though even that is debatable: I don’t think this was Camus’s intent, but it’s notable that it’s only the white englishman who’s driven to murder by the sun. This could certainly be read as critique of colonizers who cannot/refuse to coexist with the land and environment and how the indigenous population always suffers for it, but I digress). The other Camusian parallel one is immediately inclined to draw is that, of course, of Sysiphus: there’s the repetitive and seemingly meaningless act of digging holes not to mention that carrying stuff up a mountain is both thematically and plot-wise a very important part of Holes. But, once again, it is eventually revealed that both acts do carry an inherent meaning. Holes does not present the image of an uncaring universe: on the contrary, destiny and semi-divine influence plays a major role. The story may start out with a series of seemingly random and inherently meaningless events, but as the story progresses, people, actions, items, and events become increasingly imbued with meaning. In the Holes universe, one must imagine Sisyphus redeemed, not through the act of rolling the stone but by rebelling against it. I have difficulty imagining that Sachar was not thinking of Camus while writing Holes, or, at the very least, that if he encountered Camus afterwards, he must have been struck by the similarities. I don’t know if there was a specific intent in creating a story so embroiled in Camusian absurdism, especially since the target readership is (allegedly) children who almost certainly are not recognizing specific allusions to Camus, so perhaps the similarities are purely aesthetic — after all, everything that is nominally similar does play quite different thematic roles. However, I would never pass up the opportunity to talk about the myth of sisyphus and I think placing Holes in dialogue with Camus can raise some interesting questions about the nature of meaning.

Is Holes a children’s book?

Speaking, though, of the target audience, the audience for this book is in fact children. What about it makes it a children’s book makes it difficult to say: the protagonists are children (and, I would argue, it is not a coming of age story, despite the claims of one piece of lit crit about Holes in which i disagreed with almost every claim made, but i digress once more) and the writing style is fairly simple: you can read it with a second-grader’s vocabulary. Also, of course, being a children’s book doesn’t (and crucially shouldn’t!) mean that it’s lacking in depth and complexity. However, I think most thematically rich children’s books tend to be quite allegorical. The Little Prince is a good example. Holes is just way too specific for its sole market to be children. It’s either intended to be read by multiple generations at once or for child readers to return to it as an adult. It addresses themes of racism (and not just generic racism, anti-black racism in the reconstruction south), homelessness, intergenerational trauma. and the modern carceral system. These are social critiques that will probably go over most kids’ heads (certainly over mine). However, the themes of the text are not inaccessible for children. You don’t have to understand the particular history of the US criminal justice system or even that Sachar is making a comparison to anything specific to get that the system that he’s portraying is unjust. Knowing the real-world context just adds another layer to the text. Holes also has one of the hallmarks of children’s books that I really like, which is a particular type of absurdism that the child characters come up against. This always rang true to me as a kid and well into my teens, when you start understanding that your life is controlled by some set of systems, but you haven’t quite gotten what those systems are or why and how they came about. Like nowadays, I can say “we did this in elementary school because of a state law, that because of a federal law, that because of the history of puritanism, and this because we got a grant for it”, but as a kid nobody tells you these things or really even cares to explain why the rules are as they are, and the systems that govern your world, often with no small degree of violence and almost always with an inherent disregard for your agency, are ineffable and slippery, and good children’s books capture this really well (Series of Unfortunate Events is probably my favorite example of this, where a secret organization that everything is implicated in and more more tragicomic details about it get revealed until the Baudelaire children find themselves to some degree members with mixed feelings is honestly an excellent coming-of-age allegory. oh, not to mention the constant conflict with bureacracy. god that series is so good, everyone read it). Back to Holes, Sachar weaves the more fantastical ineffable elements in with real-world issues so neatly. Stanley’s family is allegedly cursed, which is why Stanley keeps having bad luck, but he also lives in systemic poverty, which is also why he keeps having bad luck. Sachar eschews neither the allegorical elements common in children’s literature nor the more direct systemic critiques more often found in YA and adult lit, and it creates a really unique vibe. I think the story really benefited from having a children’s author, and I would love to see more authors in both children’s and adult lit do this!

Systems

Speaking of the systems, this book is surprisingly radical. Like it’s full-on an abolitionist text. The law is pretty much only ever presented as adversarial, both in the story of Stanley’s present time, and in Kate and Sam’s story. It’s implied if not stated repeatedly that Stanley and the other boys are pretty much victims of circumstance and have been imprisoned pretty much for the crime of being poor. The hole-digging is shown to be cruel and bad for the boys. It’s noted that in digging the holes Stanley’s heart hardened along with his muscles. This is of course very evocative of the system of retributive justice we have in America. Additionally, Camp Greenlake’s existence can ultimately be traced back to an act of racist violence, also in close parallel with our prison system. Hole’s stance on justice is very restorative. Punishments are never shown to work: only through righting the wrongs can true justice be achieved. Moreover, Holes even gives the opportunity for redemption to a minor antagonist when [minor spoiler] Derrick Dunne, the kid who was bullying Stanley in the beginning ultimately plays a small role in helping Stanley regain his freedom [spoiler over].

Cycles

Cycles are a major theme in holes, and Sachar creates a unique temporality to support this theme. There are 3 interwoven stories: that of Stanley’s in the present date, that of Stanley’s ancestors, and that of the land that Stanley is on (though, as I will delve into later, it’s at least a little implied that Stanley is descended from the characters in that story also). The stories from the past reach in and touch the present. You can’t untangle the past from the future. Looking at this again through a social justice lens, it could be seen as fairly progressive commentary on what to do with regards to America’s past wrongs. The past cannot and will not be left in the past: it must be dealt with on an ongoing basis. Even the warden, the greatest villain of Stanley’s story has a sympathetic moment at the end where it’s revealed that she, too, is stuck in a cycle of intergenerational trauma she can’t break free from.

Stanley is gay and jewish

Ok, I will now talk about how Stanley is a queer Jew, but this entire section will be riddled with spoilers, so read the book first and then come back!

A queer Jew?? i hear you ask. You’re just projecting. Yes, 100%. However, I think that interpreting Stanley as both these things adds to the thematic richness of the text. Let’s start with the Jewish bit: it’s not explicitly stated that Stanley is Jewish, but his great-great grandfather is a nerd-boy Latvian immigrant with the last name Yelnats, and his great-grandfather was a stockbrocker, so, like, ya know. Louis Sachar is also himself Jewish, as was the director of the movie, who cast Jews in the roles of Stanley and his family (dyk Shia LaBeouf is Jewish?? i did not), so I know I’m not the only one interpreting it this way. And honestly, does it not resemble the book of exodus quite a bit? They escape what is pretty much a form of slavery and wander in the desert. Sploosh resembles the well of Miriam, and then they ascend up a mountain to the “thumb of god”, perhaps in a parallel to Moses receiving the commandments. Is this a useful way to look at the text? Who knows. But what I think we do get from reading Stanley as Jewish is a more nuanced discussion of privilege and solidarity. If Stanley and his ancestors are Jewish (or at least Jew-ish), then what placed the curse upon his family (and, we see, Madame Zeroni’s family isn’t doing so great either) is the breaking of solidarity between oppressed people. But also, the fact that you are also marginalized does not wash you of the responsibility to other marginalized groups. I don’t think Sachar intended it this way, because I think he probably would have talked about it more if he had, but I would say this book can be read as a call to the American Jewish community to take an active role in forging solidarity with other marginalized groups and actively righting the wrong you, your ancestors, and your community wrought upon them.

Now, why do I think Stanley and Zero are gay? Before I go into how it augments the text thematically, I bring to your attention this passage.

Two nights later, Stanley lay awake staring up at the star-filled sky. He was too happy to fall asleep. 

He knew he had no reason to be happy. He had heard or read somewhere that right before a person freezes to death, he suddenly feels nice and warm. He wondered if perhaps he was experiencing something like that. 

It occurred to him that he couldn't remember the last time he felt happiness. It wasn't just being sent to Camp Green Lake that had made his life miserable. Before that he'd been unhappy at school, where he had no friends, and bullies like Derrick Dunne picked on him. No one liked him, and the truth was, he didn't especially like himself. 

He liked himself now.

 He wondered if he was delirious. He looked over at Zero sleeping near him. Zero's face was lit in the starlight, and there was a flower petal in front of his nose that moved back and forth as he breathed. It reminded Stanley of something out of a cartoon. Zero breathed in, and the petal was drawn up, almost touching his nose. Zero breathed out, and the petal moved toward his chin. It stayed on Zero's face for an amazingly long time before fluttering off to the side. 

Stanley considered placing it back in front of Zero's nose, but it wouldn't be the same.

Girl, I’m sorry, that’s gay as shit! It’s such tremendous tenderness, not to mention the traditionally romantic imagery of moonlight and the flower petal. There’s also the non-romantic aspects. Stanley’s inexplicable happiness and suddenly liking himself evokes, for me, at least, the experience of coming out to yourself, of realizing who you are. Later in this chapter, Stanley contemplates running away with Zero despite the fact that it would make them lifelong outlaws. This book, remember, was written in 1998, and homosexuality was decriminalized in 2003, and the book takes place in Texas. It would have been, if anything, even more evocative of gayness when it was published. Now as to how this increases the thematic richness of the text: obviously, in carrying Hector up to the thumb, giving him water, and singing the lullaby, he redeems the wrong done by his ancestor, after which his family’s luck immediately changed. However, after Hector and Zero return to camp Greenlake, rain falls there for the first time. What was redeemed here? Remember that earlier on we learn that what caused the drought was the fact that Sam the onion man (who was black) was murdered for kissing Kate Barlow (who was white) — so what would a [post-factum wronging of that right look like? Zero, as we remember, is black while Stanley is white, so them being in a romantic relationship would be a successful interracial relationship to redeem the one Kate and Sam weren’t able to have. It’s also, as I said earlier, implied that Stanley is descended from Kate Barlow on his mother’s side: Stanley remembers seeing the other half of the lipstick tube with her initials on it in his mother’s bedroom. I’d also argue that Sam the Onion Man is implied to be descended from Madame Zeroni (chronology-wise, I think he’d be her grandson). First of all, there’s no follow-up with Madame Zeroni’s son who moved to America, and pretty much all other plot threads are followed up with in Holes. Secondly, Sam mentions water running uphill, just like Madame Zeroni does. Even without these speculations being true, Stanley and Hector being gay would redeem the land they’re on, but If they are, the parallel with the other ancestral redemption arc becomes to much to imagine it was unintentional.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on Holes, now everyone go read it!

[jeannereames]

1) I think it was Plutarch’s account, that after Hephaistion’s and Krateros’s famous clash, Alexander eventually reconciles them by telling them he loved them most of all men. Will you be expanding on Alexander’s and Krateros’s relationship in your future DwtL books? I remember you briefly touched upon them in Rise. Or like, is there any historical evidence that elucidates what their dynamic was like beyond/including the whole philobasileus thing?

Who Was Krateros (and what will I do with him in DwtL)?

I’ve always found it curious that, in most novels about Alexander’s conquests, Krateros tends to be a distant secondary character in contrast to others around Alexander, especially Ptolemy—despite the fact Krateros was more powerful than Ptolemy, and powerful at an earlier date.

I suspect it owes to the fact Ptolemy went on to found a dynasty and write a history. Modern writers feel as if they know him better. By contrast, Krateros died just two years after Alexander. So although he tends to have a better reputation among modern historians (which, I think, is not well-deserved), he’s never really received thorough treatment in much the same way (and for much the same reason) as Hephaistion.

He died too soon to become a major player among the Diadochi. But that means the people we know best from the era of the Diadochi were NOT the most prominent men at Alexander’s court. So don’t be surprised when Krateros pops up as an important secondary figure in the series with a more conspicuous role than Seleukos, or Antipatros, or Antigonos, who all long outlived him.

In part, that importance owes to Hephaistion’s role as protagonist. If pressed to name the chief protagonist of Dancing with the Lion, Alexandros or Hephaistion…it’s Hephaistion.

I don’t want to go into too much detail about future plots and spoil it—but if Krateros winds up Hephaistion’s bête noire, he doesn’t start that way. The details of their falling out is a driving point of the Long Plot (e.g., the plot across books, part of the overall tragedy of Alexander’s story). I’ll just say that, when I first saw Hamilton, the Musical, a lot of the Hamilton-Burr dynamic resonated because it reminded me of my vision of Hephaistion and Krateros.

Don’t overextend that, but it gives a general idea.

We have some hints that suggest, at least at first, Hephaistion and Krateros weren’t enemies. They may not have been bosom buddies, but I don’t think they were enemies.

I have a clear personal view of each man, based on the historical texts. Hephaistion’s personality I laid out in the first two novels. He can be touchy about his honor and how he’s viewed, and is 110% loyal to Alexander, but not a suck-up. The two just generally see things the same way, and will continue to do so (except in matters of religion, which does come to a head in one particular event I’ll not spoil). Yet in how to run the empire and how to Persianize the court, they’re on the same page and Hephaistion is deeply involved in court procedural renovations. This accords with what the sources tell us. Hephaistion followed Alexander in the changes, which is typical of how ancient sources would present it. Me, I’d argue he didn’t just “follow,” he helped Alexander come up with it. He understood the problem/hurdle as Alexander did and was a party to the solution of blending the two courts.

My Hephaistion is proud, and wants to be recognized for his contributions and ideas. He resents it when anybody suggests he’s just a “yes-man.” And no, that’s not because they were/are lovers. It’s because sycophancy is an easy way to insult your rival. 😉Nothing makes him angrier than being called a “flatterer.” His friendship with Alexander will go through highs and lows (because that’s human), but he remains mostly certain of his place at Alexandros’s right hand. That doesn’t mean he won’t get jealous, because he definitely has a jealous bone (which I think I pretty clearly established in Rise). Yet as time goes on, he settles down and his clashes with others stem from a failure by those others to recognize his place. Yet he understands his place—and ambitions—differently. He can act jealous and touchy, but not for expected reasons. My Hephaistion (and I stress this is not the historical person) just isn’t that interested in commanding others or occupying high office for itself. The kleos of it: glory He wants to help Alexandros make his new empire work, and gets really impatient with all the other “idiots” who can’t see what needs to be done to achieve that. He has ambition, but it’s north/north-west of typical.

Krateros is also pretty clear in my head, both as a fictional character but also how I think he was historically. He, too, is a deeply ambitious, and very capable. My fictional Krateros’s vicious ambition stems from being the “poor cousin” to Perdikkas and the Orestian royal house, needing to prove his place, not just get it as a right of birth—although he also gets it as a right of birth because he is not a commoner. In short, he has the resentment and envy of second-tier gentry, but the drive to succeed in Philip’s (and then Alexander’s) army where ability is recognized too. (I’d note that, after ATG’s death, Krateros [along with Ptolemy] joined Antigonos’s rebellion against Perdikkas as regent of the kings…which is why he died in battle fighting Eumenes, who was on Perdikkas’s side. Yet this is notable because he was almost certainly from Orestes…and thus, related to Perdikkas. We can debate who was higher born, but I think it was Perdikkas.)

Anyway, Alexandros recognizes both his ability and sympathizes with his drive to succeed because it’s similar to his own: the need to prove himself to his father, as prince.

That’s the fictional background of my Krateros, but the historical man was good at what he did, and knew it, and expected to be recognized for it among his peers: to stand first among them. Ergo, he was viciously competitive to rivals, but charming and charismatic otherwise.

How does that work? To those well above him in the power structure, he’s respectful and seeks their approval in order to receive advancement. So, for instance, he’s devoted to the kings (Philip, then Alexander) because they are Givers of Good Things (promotions, land, loot). He would have been a young officer under Philip, making him roughly the age of Ptolemy, Philotas, Nikanor, Koenos…maybe Kleitos (although I think Kleitos was a bit older), just as Leonnatos, Perdikkas, Seleukos and Hephaistion were coevals of Alexander.

So he couldn’t and wouldn’t challenge the “old men”: Parmenion, Antigonos Monophthalmos, Antipatros, etc. He even seems to have been an understudy to Parmenion. For instance, at Issos, he was in charge not just of his brigade but the whole left wing under Parmenion’s general command. He wanted to impress Parmenion and earn his support—not antagonize him.

Likewise, he had no reason to lord it over his infantry battalion, who would have been no threat to his ambitions. He needed them, in fact. By being chummy with them, he was far more likely to secure their loyalty—not unlike Caesar later.

It was those men who were rivals for positions he wanted who drew his special ire. Krateros would never get Parmenion’s spot while the old man lived, but Parmenion was old. Krateros could wait. After Issos, I expect Krateros saw himself as Parmenion’s natural successor. Yet Krateros was also unlikely to get Parmenion’s spot as long as Philotas lived. If we have only a sketchy idea of ranking order in the army, the whole Philotas Affair tells us/suggests the position of commander of the Companion Cavalry was the #2 position after Parmenion’s slot as viceroy to Alexander. Krateros may have served under Parmenion in charge of the army left side at Issos…but Philotas was still above him in the food chain.

Nikanor (Parmenion’s middle son) may also have been a hurdle, as commander of the Regular Hypaspists (as opposed to Royal Hypaspists), but he was younger than Philotas. Thus, Krateros would have started by removing Philotas, only worrying about Nikanor after—and as it turned out, Nikanor died of disease in late 330, deleting himself from the picture.

Our histories seem united on Philotas as arrogant and pushing his place: an obnoxious little brat, if also a perfectly capable commander. Ergo, Philotas provided Krateros with the perfect target, one unlikely to have staunch defenders.

So Krateros systematically went after him as early as the Egyptian sojourn, and possibly even earlier. Plutarch doesn’t always get things right, so we must be cautious about this, and Badian wanted to make the spying of Krateros part of Alexander’s big conspiracy against Parmenion’s family. Not at all. I think it was Krateros’s attempt to target the man he saw as chief rival.

At that point, Krateros would have regarded Alexander’s cohort as “the boys.” They didn’t have major offices, although were rising to some key junior commands. For instance, Hephaistion apparently commanded the “agema” (later term but good enough for this) of the Hypaspists. That’s the king’s own unit, who acted as his personal bodyguard in battle and actually ran with the cavalry squadron (!, yes in full armor). They would have been composed almost entirely of aristocratic young men: e.g., former Pages. So that’s a plum command for Hephaistion…but he didn’t command a whole SECTION of the army, like Philotas and the Companions.

Hephaistion, Leonnatos, Perdikkas, Seleukos…they weren’t a threat to Krateros. He could be friendly to them, may even have cultivated Hephaistion especially, for his unique access to the king. You may be thinking, Man, he sounds like a user! Well, yes. That’s how the Macedonian court functioned, although I think Krateros was more ruthless, and successful, than most.

Then he got an unexpected gift-horse: the Dimnos Conspiracy and Philotas’s casual (and deeply stupid) dismissal of the warning about it. Krateros went right for the jugular.

I want to make a point that I also made in “Crisis and Opportunity: the Philotas Affair…again.” We absolutely must resist looking backwards from the outcome to ascertain motives. When the scared Pages finally approached Ptolemy, who then went to Alexander and the other Friends, NOBODY knew what the outcome would be. It was not planned. It really was a crisis.

Yet Krateros saw opportunity in the crisis, and as a successful field commander, ran with it. So I see him, not Hephaistion, as the architect of the accusation against Philotas. HE had the most to gain (he thought), and if Plutarch can be believed in this, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to bring Philotas’s snarky words and bad behavior to Alexander. As alluded to above, he’d paid Philotas’s mistress to report to him what Philotas said during “pillow talk” as early as Egypt. Now it could be (and quite probably was) that he saw Philotas’s bragging and claims to victories as a real threat to the king. (Kinda like shadow presidents in Mar-a-Lago.) People can have more than one motivation. They can even have a “good” motivation (protecting Alexander’s pride and reputation) alongside a “bad” motivation (making Alexander resentful of Philotas). Alexander’s pride was touchy too. 😉 Even if he blew off Krateros’s accusations at the time, we can imagine he was still stung. Seeds successfully planted!

We must, however, be careful not to read the final results back into the assumptions of the people at the time. Hindsight 20/20 and all that. I do NOT think Krateros believed this would result in Parmenion’s removal/death, although I do think he wanted to get Philotas arrested and executed.

Also, I do NOT believe Hephaistion had any idea he was about to be elevated to command of half the Companion Cavalry. He’d have had no reason to think he’d be leapfrogged over older, loyal men, such as Krateros…or Kleitos, who wound up as his co-commander.

Hephaistion’s motivation? Friendship. In “Crisis and Opportunity” I stressed it was friendship to Alexander, but I’ve also come to think that Krateros may have talked him into it, so also friendship, or at least alliance, with Krateros, who knew he could rile Hephaistion’s blood. He wanted that sheen of authentic anger. I want to quickly add that Koenos joined in with the torturers because he feared going down with the ship, as he was Philotas’s brother-in-law.

All this neatly explains why it was Hephaistion to whom Philotas appealed during his torture. Not because he orchestrated it, but because he had the least reason of the three to want Philotas out of the way. He was in it for passion and so, might then be moved to pity. Krateros was all-in from the outset, and Koenos had to be to save his own neck from Philotas’s arrogant stupidity.

So Philotas was convicted, executed, and then Alexander felt he must also execute Parmenion because he was sitting on Alexander’s all-important supply lines during a major operation. That is not a pretty picture and must be acknowledged as much. Philotas Did a Dumb, and lost his life for it. Extreme, but he dug his own grave. Parmenion was flat-out murdered. Realpolitik does not excuse the death of the man who’d sided with Alexander, put him on the throne, then advised him so capably.

In any case, from Krateros’s point of view, this was terrific. Philotas was out of his way, and so was Parmenion. Honestly, I doubt he wanted to see the old man dead instead of honorably retired, but it still cleared the way for him.

Then an astonishing thing happened!

Krateros didn’t get the Companions. Hephaistion did. And Kleitos. Of the younger generation, Hephaistion had just leap-frogged right over the heads of Krateros and all his cohorts. (Again, I think Kleitos was older; there’s no evidence of Krateros being at public odds with him.)

Just imagine how angry Krateros was!

The snotty little upstart! Who the hell did Hephaistion think he was?

So yeah, Krateros got what he wanted: Philotas out of the way. And in the process, he shot himself in the foot.

Plutarch tells us exactly why Alexander made the choice he did: nobody should have that much command authority henceforth, even his best friend. But he did want a man loyal to him in that position. I would not be at all surprised if—crisis past—Alexander recognized Krateros’s maneuvering for what it was…and didn’t indulge him. He wasn’t about to give out promotions for the backstage take-down of a fellow officer.

By the Battle of the Hydaspes against Poros in India (almost three years later), Krateros served the same position as Parmenion: hold the main army while Alexander leads the attack. Yet in between, Alexander had rearranged units. Even the Companions had not only been split, but divided further into six Hipparchies. Hephaistion’s was primary, but only the first of six. He was no longer overall commander. And that would have happened had Kleitos lived or died, as Kleitos had been reassigned as satrap in Baktria. Dividing the Companions had just been the initial sally to a more comprehensive reorganization and power redistribution.

Ergo, if Krateros had power, it would never be equal to Parmenion’s, and it seems to have been deliberately delayed after the Philotas Affair. Krateros dared not get mad at Alexander. Again, as king, Alexander is above these status wars, and the Giver of Good Things.

Another complication for Krateros: Parmenion’s death had angered Parmenion’s loyal men, some of whom Krateros had commanded…and Krateros had been part of Parmenion’s downfall, however indirectly. Wouldn’t it be convenient if he could shift the blame to Hephaistion?

So Hephaistion was now the chief man “in his way.” Plus (fair or not) Krateros resented him for getting the plum assignment, may have convinced himself that Hephaistion used the opportunity to sweet-talk Alexander into giving it to him. Even if he didn’t believe that, he could still have spread the rumor. It was advantageous, displacing soldier’s anger over Parmenion’s death onto Hephaistion. And it would rile up his own battalion/soldiers with indignation on his behalf.

“Stop the steal!” *smirk*

It all exploded in India. We’re not told when, but I suspect sooner rather than later—before the Malian catastrophe. My best guess is after the Hydaspes, possibly while everyone was relaxing for a while in Poros’s kingdom. Bored soldiers are gossipy soldiers, and get restless and pick fights.

Gregor Weber in his analysis “The Court of Alexander the Great as Social System” (Alexander the Great: a new history, 2009) suggested that Alexander encouraged such rivalry among his Hetairoi and Friends, and uses the H. and K. squabble as a peak example. To some degree, that’s true. Competition was endemic to the Macedonian court because it was endemic (maybe EPIDEMIC) to Greek society more broadly. Macedonian kings (not just Alexander) would have encouraged competition as a way of choosing the best officers. The Hetairideia I described in Dancing with the Lion—the Festival of the Companions with competitions—was a real thing. I made up a lot of the details, but we hear about it under the Antigonids, by which time it involved mock battle. But it was said to have been much older. There very well may be ties between the Hetairideia and the original Macedonian “Olympics” at Dion. E.g., the latter may have grown out of the former, but it’s all too vague to know.

Anyway, competition was natural and encouraged at court, but I disagree with Weber about Alexander encouraging THAT particular competition between Hephaistion and Krateros. Weber reads the clever “philobasileus/philalexandros” as encouraging. I see it (and Plutarch’s wording suggests) just the opposite. He was trying to lower the temperature in the room. It didn’t work.

We simply aren’t told enough about the swords-drawn brawl to understand what led up to it. E.g., who started it, as Alexander put it. I don’t mean (and don’t think Alexander meant) who pulled his sword first. He meant who STARTED it. I tend to read that “I’ll kill you both, or at least the one who started it,” as a veiled threat to Krateros. He would have damn well known who started it. He was telling Krateros in that public reconciliation, “Knock it off, dickhead, or else.” And I expect that’s also what he told him in their private meeting/confrontation.

There is more to this, but I’ve said all I want to, for the moment. Again, I’m working on Krateros and Hephaistion at present for a book chapter in a collection, and I’ll also be doing more on them both for a monograph. So I’ll just end with my take on the Indian conflict.

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

Okay so continued from this ask about Kyoko

Anyways, as introduced in THH, Kyoko is an extremely distant person with an iron mask, which intimidates everyone around her.

Everytime she happens to be described, she is described as something akin to a ghost aka not someone belonging to this world because of how ethereal her presence is.

She was moulded (read: traumatized) by her grandpa to become a detective to the extent that she was desperate to prove herself to him to not get kicked out like her father (she was also manipulated into believing that her father left because he didn't care about her by said grandpa) since her grandpa was...well the only one who had showed her a proper modicum of love at that point.

Her family took being a detective as something involving an extreme amount of honour which resulted in her trauma.

She also... didn't know what she was apart from a "perfect Detective" and was terrified of that internally (she has a LOT of parallels with Nagito which is why I REALLY want them to team up atleast ONCE likedanganronpaIambeggingyou), since she felt like an empty husk due to repressing her emotions since forever.

Because that's how a true detective should be (...it's really scary how MUCH she fits my own ideal of a detective), operating by cold hard logic to uncover the truth from the messy web of lies and make it known. A detective was to not take sides, nor aspire for fame (coughSherlockHolmescough), they must always remain neutral and not let personal feelings or prejudices come into the way, and she followed that.

Now, in the first game (I assume it was the worst for her since all she knew about herself was simply that she's a detective), everyone loses their memories of their school life with each other, leading them to believe that they had just met. They all remember their Ultimate Talents (heads up: An Ultimate Talent is something that you must be the very best at in your particular field in your age group. If you are like that, then Hope's Peak Academy personally scouts you and you are invited to attend the school as an "Ultimate"), apart from Kyoko.

Yeah, she quite possibly forgot that she was a detective, or atleast she forgot that she was the Ultimate of it, nevertheless, the main source of her self confidence and rigidity was lost to vague memory, which I believe caused her closed off ness to be more exaggerated, since I believe she was TERRIFIED. Imagine the one thing you stake your identity on....which you end up forgetting.

Throughout the game, she basically carries the class trials by herself and is virtually the only reason the six survivors are actually survivors.

However due to her upbringing, she has another issue which happens to be...

....severe trust issues. She has been told not to trust anyone and considering that they are in a literal KILLING GAME, you really can't blame her.

However, this leads to her downfall.

In Chapter 3, she disappears since she has presumably found a secret passage in the bathroom which she was investigating along with the school to find the secret of the Killing Game and the mastermind. She refuses to trust her classmates and shoulders the entire responsibility onto herself, since she desperately wants to uncover the truth....

.....her motto which she has been clinging onto for dear life, underneath all the turmoil.

Makoto (our sweet sweet protagonist, the nicest person ever in Danganronpa) notices this and gently tells her that she can rely on him....that she doesn't have to shoulder everything by herself. He doesn't act pushy, he just tells her that it's okay for her to trust people since she literally looked dazed when she came back in Chapter 3, and she goes,

"Okay, I will give this trusting people thing a try."

She then trusts him with the secret of the bathroom hidden passage but he ends up getting attacked and in bed. F.

Anyways, that causes him to become the target of the mastermind.

Now Kyoko, apparently due to her training is capable of hearing "Reaper's footsteps" aka she can "hear" when her or someone she really loves's death is close.

Now, when Makoto nearly gets killed by the mastermind, Kyoko hears it and fights them off. The mastermind had been planning to kill Makoto and frame her as his killer which she realised so she stays at his room until she's sure the danger has passed.

Anyways, she obviously leaves and then the rest of the classmates discover a dead body whose mask they try to take off but it explodes and Makoto notices that they are dressed the same way as his attacker was. Kyoko arrives way late which makes him wonder whether she had killed that person or not.

Fast forward to the trial where she says that it's now or never for her.

Anyways.

What we have to remember about Kyoko is her MAIN motivation aka solving the mystery. She wouldn't hesitate to make sacrifices to get to it. She is dedicated to her job.

[We also have to remember that she spent her life travelling from place to place, always shifting schools, causing a lack of proper attachments. The only attachment she had was her grandpa until she met Yui Samidare who dies pretty soon during a case via self sacrifice for Kyoko in a way. During all this, her motto and her dedication to it were the only constants].

Anyways.

The mastermind attempted to frame Kyoko for that particular dead body, but Kyoko manipulated the whole trial and framed Makoto as the culprit instead to save her own life.

Makoto gets sent to the execution but doesn't die since his Ultimate Luck talent saves him and he gets thrown into a trash dumpster.

Kyoko comes to save him and apologises. A small sign of trust since she literally never does that. Makoto was virtually the only one she trusted since despite her frosty exterior, he tried to get to know her, but didn't push and just gave her space......and said trust in her backfired and caused him to nearly die but anyways—.

At that point, Kyoko has remembered her Ultimate Talent (Ultimate Detective) and she trusts Makoto with that. She further trusts Makoto with telling him about her frustrations against her father. She didn't even admit them to herself until much much later.....and she trusts him enough to say that.....

....maybe because of how easily he forgave her but eh—

Anyways, she finds her father's skeleton in a nice little box, gift wrapped and everything which causes her to lose her composure ever so slightly and Makoto leaves to give her space to collect herself.

~~~~~

Even though the first game was essentially Hope VS Despair, it was also about Trust.

Since if you do not trust in the feeling of Hope, you will fall into despair.

Something we can see with Kirigiri in a way.

Kyoko being a detective is possibly the best way to broach the topic of trust, since lies and truth are directly connected to it.

If you are truthful with someone, then that usually means that you trust them.

Kyoko's motto was to remain neutral and without biases which caused her to actually develop a bias, nearly getting her best friend killed.

She wanted to solve the mystery and uncover the truth, however she also realised that without trusting others with some modicum of the truth, she wouldn't be able to do so.

When she arrives at the very end of Goodbye Despair in the 6th trial, it's nice to see her relationship with trust having grown enough to give the Remnants a second chance by trusting that they would be able to find the core truth inside themselves to break free from the lies crafted by the mastermind's brainwashing.

Hajime finds his own truth and decides to go "fuck this, I will make my OWN future" due to this.

[She ALSO finds out that her father was involved in Hajime's inhumane brainwashing which probably just destroyed her last bit of trust towards Hope's Peak Academy but eh].

In DR3, when she holds Naegi's hand with her ungloved burnt hands, it's a symbol of HOW much her trust has grown in order for her to bare her wounds like this to reach to him and pull him out of his own despair.

In conclusion: She's the best person ever and deserves the world

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST SHE SAW A WRAPPED GIFT OF HER FATHER'S SKELETON AND 'LOST HER COMPOSURE SLIGHTLY'???!!!! WHAT THE FUCK.

also she sounds creepily like you and kinda like me too this is so weird also she had daddy issues vibes I KNEW IT

Also i was so irrationally excited at the prospect of a nagito and kyoko pairing like its not like id be able to read it anyways but then i realised. it would be VERY similar to the sheep scene in loki. the sheer xNTx vibes my GOD.

also this is pretty much what happened to nico too and im scared of how we kin such similar characters im terrified

[lavendersb]

Our Ultimatum

Chapter 3: Sandstone

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader

Summary: As Boba prepares for his trip to Jagba, you start to find your feet in the palace.

Warnings: Nothing too bad right now, some mild threats to the reader, blaster firing

 That night you struggled to sleep.

After the incident in the throne room you had eaten with Raab in the communal dining hall, where he had explained that you would need to work without him for a few days. He had been asked by Boba and Fennec to help them prepare for their journey to Jagba, and this took priority over the weapons log. You were flattered that Raab thought you capable enough to run the armoury by yourself, but you couldn’t help but ask the questions that the day had left you with.

“What actually is the Kostah deal?” you had asked tentatively, hoping you hadn’t overstepped.

“It’s a deal with the Kostah brothers,” Raab responded flatly.

“I gathered that, but why’s it so important?”

Raab finally looked up from his plate of food. He sent you an unimpressed look before sitting up in his chair and letting out a steady sigh.

“The Kostah brothers dominate the spice trade in the outer rim-” He relented “it’s been their industry for years. We’ve been able to co-exist with them for a while now, but recently they’ve gotten… ballsy”

“Ballsy how?”

“They’ve been aggravating certain crime syndicates, being lenient with others. Boba thinks they’re trying to generate allies so they can overthrow him,” Raab explained.

“But then why would he want to form a deal with them, if he thinks they’re plotting against him?” You leant across the table to talk, not wanting anyone else to overhear what you assumed was sensitive information.

“You sure do like your questions, huh?” Raab huffed “Well what is it they say… keep your friends close and your enemies closer? That’s all it is. Don’t worry yourself about it”

You had sat back up, sensing that was all you were going to get from Raab for now and chose instead to mull over your food.

Now you lay in your bed sleeplessly whilst trying to process the events of the day. You were still interested in the Kostah deal, what Raab had told you so far was enough to fuel your interest in the business of Boba’s empire.

You flip the pillow to the cold side and pull your blankets higher, trying for the umpteenth time to get comfortable enough to sleep. You wanted to be well rested tomorrow, keen to make sure you did your best on your first day working alone.

 -

You woke up late the next morning.

Frantically you had leapt out of your bed, swearing and berating yourself as you dressed in a hurry. You couldn’t remember when you had eventually drifted off, but considering how groggy you still felt, you assumed it was much later than you had intended.

You didn’t have time to run to the dining hall, instead you grabbed a few stray ration packs you had lying around your room and promptly exited for the armoury. You hoped desperately that you wouldn’t bump into Raab before you arrived, not wanting him to think you were rushing.

The journey to the armoury didn’t take long. Rounding one last corner you come to the brassy metal doors of your workplace. You stop when you reach it, sighing and silently thanking the maker that you got here in good time.

Just as soon as your heart rate starts to settle, it suddenly spikes again. You notice the keypad, usually when you arrive the light above it is red, indicating the doors are sealed. Now, however, the light is gleaming green. The doors are unlocked.

You feel yourself begin to panic, perhaps Raab had decided to swing by before he leaves you alone for the day? Somehow you’re not convinced, Raab wasn’t one to baby you, he had given you a job and hadn’t told you to expect him, besides, he was busy helping Boba and Fennec prepare for their journey.

You quietly slipped through the door, not wanting to alert any potential intruder until you found out who they were. As you emerge into the large maze of weapon crates stacked high you wonder if you should go and find help.

You still. Somewhere in the armoury you could hear movement, the sound of somebody pushing the crates and boxes around. Your heart rate spiked; There was no way it could be Raab, but who else could have gained access?

You weren’t entirely sure what to do. Raab had assured you that nobody was allowed into the armoury without his permission, and he certainly would have told you if you should be expecting somebody whilst he was gone. Instinctively you reach for one of the smaller cases, as quietly as you could you flicked it open and pulled out the simple blaster it housed.

Feeling somewhat better protected, you continue to weave your way through the stacks of crates, getting closer to the source of the noises. As you round a corner you come upon the back of a person. They’re hunched over a crate, rummaging through it’s contents.

“Hey!” You snap, raising your blaster. The figure stilled but didn’t turn to face you.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you add, hoping to get more of a response.

The figure straightens up and you adjust your grip on the blaster rifle, keeping it trained on their back. You hope desperately that you won’t have to use it. Even at this close proximity you don’t have much faith that you’ll hit your target.

“You should watch your tongue when you speak to me.” The intruder turns to face you. It’s Yovu, the temperamental zabrak from Boba’s clique and despite the fact he’s a familiar face, you don’t feel at all comforted by his presence.

“You don’t have permission to be in here,” you insist, refusing to acknowledge his comment to you “I think you should leave”

Yovu curls his lip at you, pushing himself away from the crate and stalking slowly towards you.

“I’d be careful with that blaster little one,” he mocks “you might hurt yourself”

You bristle at that. From Boba that pet name feels like a gentle caress, both soothing and exciting your soul in the same way his gentle touch does, however from Yovu it’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever been called. You elect to ignore his comment, you will not be threatened in your own workplace, especially not on your first day working alone.

“I said you need to leave. Now” you say, in what you hope is a decently assertive tone.

Yovu just scoffs at you. He continues to walk towards you, stopping briefly when his chest hits the barrel of your blaster before stepping closer to you, pushing the weapon towards your body.

“Boba may have picked you to be his little plaything, but that doesn’t make you special kid. You’re nothing, and you don’t get to make demands of people like me” He’s gotten so close to you that you can see every scar and line on his leathery, orange face. You refuse to back down despite the nerves you feel, instead you opt for pressing the blaster harder against his chest in warning.

As soon as he feels the pressure Yovu’s hand snaps up, grabbing roughly onto your upper arm and yanking you viciously. You cry out instinctively as pain erupts through your arm, crumpling slightly into his grip.

“What’s happening here?” A low voice calls from behind you. Relief rushes through you as you can tell without seeing him that it’s Boba.

Yovu looks slowly from Boba back to your face. He doesn’t release you straight away, opting instead to give you one last warning squeeze.

“I just came to see how our newest addition is settling in, that’s all” He says with false sincerity before quickly releasing you. You stumble back, trying to put as much space between you and the zabrak as possible.

Yovu stalks away, acknowledging his employer with a tight-lipped “Fett” and slinking from the armoury. When you’re both sure that Yovu has left, Boba turns to you. Between the blaster in your hand and the look of distress you’re sure is still plastered on your face you reckon Boba easily figures out that there’d been a little bit more than a pleasant chat between you and Yovu.

“Are you alright?” He asks, coming closer to you and offering to take the blaster from you. He moves in a similar way one would act around a spooked animal, but you can’t find it in you to mind all that much. You offer the blaster to him which he takes with one hand and reaches out to you with the other. You’re all too happy to let him rub away the residual pain Yovu left on your arm, and the gentle way he touches you has you practically melting into him.

“Yes, thank you,” You say, truly grateful for his intervention.

“What did he want?” Boba asks, you can tell that behind his visor he’s looking at the opened crate that Yovu had been searching through.

“I’m not sure. He was searching for something I think, and didn’t appreciate me telling him to leave”

Boba hums at your answer. He takes a deep breath, moving his hand from your arm and rest on your lower back to give it a comforting rub. Much to your embarrassment you can’t help but press against him, enjoying the protective stance he’s taken.

“What about you?” You pipe up, breaking Boba’s gaze away from the weapons crate and bringing it down to you. “What did you come here for? I thought you’d be busy preparing to fly to Jagba”

Boba huffs a laugh and breaks away from you. You’re embarrassed at how your body attempts to follow him without thinking but you hold your ground, watching instead as Boba crosses to the open crate and peering inside.

“I came here to see you,” Boba says casually.

“Me?” you parrot, your heartrate spiking suddenly.

“Yes you, little one. I wanted to apologise for cutting our conversation short yesterday.” He closes the crate’s lid and turns back around to you, leaning slightly against the now closed box.

He studies you with measured amusement, you’re sure he can tell how flustered he’s got you right now. You swallow, determined to not make a fool of yourself.

“That’s alright. I saw how important that deal was, you needed to go” you manage.

“But we were also having an important discussion,” He says, but you honestly can’t think about much that was said yesterday other than the way he had touched your leg “and you never answered my question.”

His voice was laced with humour, teasing in a way that seems much too tender for this hardened warrior.

“What question?” You ask through a slight laugh.

“About if you wanted me to teach you to shoot,” He answers, raising the blaster he had taken from you in his hand.

“Oh.” The conversation comes flooding back to you, and you find yourself blushing furiously.

Boba waits for your answer expectantly, but inside your head there’s a conflict of interests gathering momentum. On the one hand the possibility of spending more time with Boba is almost too intoxicating to deny. On the other, the thought of him seeing how pitiful you are with a blaster is more embarrassing than you’d ever care to admit.

“It might take a while to teach me, I’m really not that good” You joke instead of answering.

That doesn’t seem to perturb Boba. With one hand he reaches up and removes his helmet, turning to place it on the closed crate behind him.

“You can’t be that bad”

You huff out a nervous laugh because you absolutely can be that bad and watch as Boba crosses over to you, offering the blaster back. You shoot him an unconvinced look, but the almost tenderly amused way he’s looking back convinces you to accept. You tentatively take the blaster from him.

“Shoot my helmet” He instructs, stepping back to give you a good view of the green beskar.

It’s not that far. Realistically you should be able to hit it, but the nervousness caused by having an audience you so desperately want to impress has your vision practically swimming.

“You could start by lifting your blaster”

You jump a little as Boba’s voice snaps you out of your internal monologue, only to find that he’s come to stand behind you. His arms wrap around you to gently grip your forearms, raising the blaster for you. Your back is pressed firmly against beskar chest, and you’re convinced that even through all that metal he can probably still feel the tremor that runs down your spine.

You readjust your grip on the blaster, aim it as best you can, and pull the trigger.

You shut your eyes to the bright red charge emitted and the force with which the blaster goes off rocks you further back into Boba’s chest. His arm wraps around your waist to steady you and stays there as he lets you come back to yourself. You eventually open your eyes, only to be faced with the sight of Boba’s visor staring back at you, unmoving from its spot atop the crate.

“Huh” Boba says beside your ear “Well, good thing I’ve got time to spare”

You blush wildly with embarrassment at his words. You’d been fighting since the first time you met him not to make a fool of yourself, but despite your best efforts that hasn’t been going according to plan. Now you have to deal with the fact that the best warrior this side of the galaxy knows you are his exact opposite, the single worst shooter in existence.

“When I get back from Jagba I’ll arrange a proper training session. I’ll have you shooting like a pro in no time,” He says, giving your hip a firm squeeze before going to retrieve his helmet.

“Don’t set your standards too high” you say lightly, attempting to joke away your embarrassment “I think I might be a lost cause with a blaster”

Boba pauses at that, huffing out a tiny, amused laugh before fixing his helmet back over his head. He turns to you, swaggering back over and stopping dangerously close to you. You refuse to step back, even as his hand comes up to gently hold your jaw in place.

“I could turn the dullest gungan into the best marksman this galaxy has ever seen if I wanted to. I’ll make you a good shot, Princess. Don’t worry.” His voice is low, dangerous and full of exciting promises that have you utterly intoxicated, if he wasn’t holding your chin so firmly you reckon you would have melted into the floor.

Boba lets you go, and you watch unmovingly as he disappears towards the exit of the armoury leaving you entirely transfixed and far too distracted to think about your work.

So much for knocking this silly infatuation.

[eretzyisrael]

What We Can Do About It

Last week I explained How They Did It, how the enemies of Israel – the Arabs, the Soviets, the international Left, and others – turned much of the West against us. What can we do about it?

I concentrated on the ‘softer’ aspects of cognitive warfare, such as the infiltration of higher education and international organizations like NGOs and UN agencies, corporations, the use of social media, the exploitation of minorities with grievances, and the support of public antisemites (e.g., Ilhan Omar). But we should keep in mind that more kinetic actions can also have primarily cognitive objectives. The PLO’s European terrorism during the 1970s paved the way for its conversion from a gang of despicable terrorists into a member of the UN, and for murderer and thief Yasser Arafat to become a “statesman.” The 9/11 attacks against the US changed the media portrayal of its Arab and Muslim citizens from “billionaires, bombers, and belly dancers” to hardworking citizens who are targets for islamophobic hatred (this is not the case with Jews, despite the fact that Jews are far more likely to be the victims of hate crimes today).

Terrorism works on various levels, but on the deepest, visceral one it creates paralyzing fear, which the mind – still subconsciously – tries to rationalize away by distancing itself from the victims and identifying with the terrorists. “Don’t kill me, I am on your side!” the terrorized mind shouts. “I’m one of the good ones!” (e.g, a “Jew for Palestine”).

The counterattack has to be planned, coordinated, and specifically targeted in all of the arenas, soft and hard, in which cognitive war is being waged against us. This is something the State of Israel has never come close to doing. Our efforts at public diplomacy have often been most charitably described as a bad joke, like the campaign to advertise Israel as a destination for gay tourism(“Come to Israel! We have nice beaches and we won’t hang you!”) At best we are reactive, responding to vicious accusations of war crimes, apartheid, and other depravities, usually long after the damage has been done. And we often ignore the cognitive implications of our actions, or the lack thereof.

It won’t be easy. Organized support for anti-Israel organizations (including those connected with terrorism) has been going on for decades, with millions of dollars annually flowing from sources like the George Soros organizationsand the European Union. Social media, especially, is constantly changing and new battlefields appear almost daily. Everywhere you look (e.g., Wikipedia) there is anti-Israel bias. And for every pro-Israel activist there are ten, or a hundred, attacking us.

An effective cognitive counterattack must have two parts: how we speak to the world, and – most important – how we act. Let me take the second part first.

There are basic human instincts that precede the ideas expressed in the UN charter by hundreds of thousands of years. Our actions must affect those instincts in a way that will cause others to respect us, and our enemies to fear us. I am not suggesting that we follow the example of the PLO and hijack planes in Europe, but our response to terrorism and threats from enemy countries (e.g., Iran) can be designed to have the appropriate effect. Humans are attracted to strength. They want to be on the side that’s stronger. They talk about the importance of moral and legal principles, but they bet on the winner. Our actions should radiate power and control, and even ruthlessness.

For example, no terrorist should survive his attack. Israeli security forces and the individuals involved have been sharply criticized, both by Israelis and others, for the “Bus 300 affair” in 1984, when two captured terrorists were executed in the field after interrogation. My contention is that this action sent exactly the right message, both to our enemies – “don’t try this or you will die” – and to the rest of the world – “Israel does not tolerate terrorism against her citizens.”

Our pusillanimous responses to Hamas, which has on numerous occasions killed Israelis and which today holds two Israeli citizens and the bodies of two soldiers hostage, is supposed to be justified for practical reasons, but is a total failure from the standpoint of cognitive warfare. When Israel bombs an unoccupied Hamas installation after arson balloons or even rockets from Gaza have burned crops or damaged buildings, the message that is sent is that we are too weak to protect ourselves. When our citizens are held captive while we supply electricity and water to the Gaza Strip, the message is that Hamas is in control, not Israel. I understand the limitations of our power, as viewed by the IDF, but I believe that they are not weighing the cognitive aspects of the question heavily enough.

Recently, the IDF demolished the home of a terrorist murderer, a citizen of the PA who was also an American citizen, despite a request from the US State Department to desist. This was the correct action from the cognitive point of view, sending the message that Israel is a sovereign state which controls Judea/Samaria, and which does not tolerate terrorism. On the other hand, the continued presence of the illegal Bedouin settlement of Khan al-Ahmar as a result of pressure from the EU and the UN tells the world that Israel does not control the land.

Our greatest enemy is Iran, whose regime has explicitly threatened to destroy us on numerous occasions and is developing nuclear weapons. There are obviously multiple considerations that play into choosing the best response, from a pre-emptive strike on her nuclear installations to a continuation of the campaign of sabotage that Israel has been waging for the last few years. Cognitively, the best approach is the one that publicly demonstrates that Israel has the power to destroy the installations, regardless of the distance or their fortification. This could be a massive aerial attack, or it could be covert action that is made public after the fact. The worst case is that we refrain from taking action because of pressure from the US.

In the soft realm, one priority is to put an end to Israel’s self-imposed cognitive failures. There is no reason that Israelis should be allowed to act as paid agents of the EU or the international Left, as is the case with B’Tselem and numerous other anti-state organizatons. There is a weakly enforced law that requires Israeli NGOs that receive half of their funding from foreign governments to report that, on penalty of a relatively small fine; and even that was opposed by the Left and the Arab parties in the Knesset. It is absurd that these groups should be allowed to operate in Israel. All foreign funding – private or governmental – for political NGOs should be forbidden, period. Representatives of foreign NGOs hostile to Israel should not be allowed into the country.

Speaking of Arab parties, there is a Basic Law that says that in order to run for election to the Knesset, a candidate or list must not “[negate] the existence of the State of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state.” This law is interpreted loosely by the Supreme Court, so that Arabs who do precisely that can sit in the Knesset. That must end.

Israel has military censorship, which sometimes makes us look foolish when foreign publications are revealing details that Israelis are not allowed to read or hear from their own media, but at the same time, the Ha’aretz newspaper is allowed to attack the state, day in and day out, often using material from the foreign-funded NGOs. Foreign propaganda outlets make good use of it, saying “even Israelis admit…” This is unacceptable; it borders on treason, and it must stop.

There is a place for traditional hasbara, explanation, or presentation of the news from the viewpoint of the state. I am not sure why everyone is entitled to an opinion and a platform from which to broadcast it, while the state is not. Why not a government TV/radio/Internet news outlet, staffed with professionals who could respond immediately and accurately to false accusations? Doing this properly, so that it would be both authoritative and not boring, would be expensive and require high quality personnel that would not be easy to find; but it is worth doing.

Much of what I have suggested will be criticized because “it violates human rights” or it is “antidemocratic,” or similar things. I don’t disagree. But the idea that Israel has to be a paragon of human rights and democracy is wrong. It is an expression of the antisemitic idea that Jews must always be held to the highest of standards – indeed, to a standard that is continually raised so as to always be out of reach. Israel is not a Platonic ideal state; it is not even the United States. It is a tiny nation with no strategic depth that is surrounded by enemies who themselves violate every standard of civilized behavior. National survival is more important than human rights – especially when those defining the concept of human rights are indifferent (or worse) to our survival.

Abu Yehuda

[blastoisemonster]

Marmalade Boy

Before talking about today's spinoff, I'd like to take a step back for better context and briefly describe the interesting relationship Italy has with japanese culture: the two countries, despite being so distant and having developed from very different histories, have been called similar in their habits and in many aspects of the daily life, to the point of showing mutual affection for eachother’s society and products; in our case, we’re especially talking about entertainment.

Which takes us to the slice-of-life anime genre: true animated soap operas originally maybe only targeted at an audience of female teenagers but that, once in italian territory, end up catching interest of the whole family with its intrigues and linked episodes. 1980/1990s Italy clicked perfectly with them; not only a great amount has been brought in Europe thanks to our translations, but a selected few have been taken as inspiration for completely original work based on that universe. Basically, yes, our television companies have produced anime fanfiction dramas. One striking example is Love Me Knight - Kiss Me Licia, which became something like a pre-Pokèmon nationwide phenomenon: not even Japan (which produced only one season and then called it quits) understood how or even why the average italian loved this saccarine shit so much, and still today the girl who originally sang our Kiss Me Licia opening basically owes her whole career and popularity lasting more than three decades (she's still singing anime openings and even doing concert tours) thanks to the leading acting role she played in four live action Kiss Me Licia sequel series. You've read it right, four. All met with huge success from 1986 to 1989 for a grand total of 144 episodes. Original mangaka Kaoru Tada knew nothing about this and the studio responsible for the animated adaptation of the manga, Toei Animation, had not even been contacted for the rights: truly, our entertaining industry was making fanart just as the average kid on DeviantArt likes to post his not-so-traced Goku drawings for everyone to see.

The second most remarkable big shojo love Italy had is the subject of this post, Marmalade Boy, known in Italy as "Piccoli Problemi di Cuore" (literally translated: Small Heartaches). The Mediaset adaptation team wanted to create another big Licia phenomenon but, this time, instead of producing live action spinoffs, they went and actually contacted the original author, Wataru Yoshizumi, for permission on modifying the anime's plot. Piccoli Problemi di Cuore has been one of the biggest and most coherent works of animation "cut-and-paste" the team has done during that late 90s, resulting in a completely new italian anime series of 70 episodes (out of the 76 original ones) inspired by Marmalade Boy's plot. And as expected, this became a huge hit: it started airing at the beginning of 1997 and it captivated the audience so much that after a while they had to move it to another channel and time block because people were watching it more than the news. This also allowed Italy to export their own Marmalade Boy inspired creation as a whole different anime with the international name "A Little Love Story". Piccoli Problemi di Cuore was the anime all the big sisters and more romantic girls of the class followed almost religiously at the time of its original broadcast. Of course I wasn't part of that audience at the time, but after having researched the very interesting backstory of our adaptation, I'd be more than curious to at least take a look at it. And the manga? The original 8 tankobon got translated in my country by Planet Manga several times: the first publication was split in 16 volumes, the second one had 8 issues, and then there's the "Gold" edition of 8 volumes with alternative covers. Oh, and just to be sure everyone had bought it, a fourth edition has been published as recently as 2015. Be it manga or anime, Piccoli Problemi di Cuore was always absolutely famous and great.

And then there's the Game Boy spinoff, that instead is exclusive for Japan. How come? Released by Bandai in 1995, this title had been originally conceived for the Game Boy and only three months later a Super Famicom version showed up, making it a unique strange case of an handheld exclusive coming second for home console, and not the other way around. Also, it’s a dating simulator! Personally, this is the first of this genre I see on the small screen.

Adorned with cute checkers patterns all around and predictably nice-looking sprites and background scenes, this game has the player assume the role of female protagonist Miki Koishikawa and flirt with three suitors: Yuu Matsuura (technically Miki’s main love interest in the original anime), Ginta Suou (long time Miki’s classmate and secret -even corresponded- crush, but too proud to admit it), or Kei Tsuchiya (a talented yet troubled pianist, also Miki’s coworker at Bobson’s ice cream parlor). A lot of places from the anime, such as the protagonist’s school, workplace, and house, can be visited, and there’s many more characters to interact with; all in run-of-the-mill dating sim fashion, Marmalade Boy features tons and tons and tons of dialogue and, as rewards, special cutscenes featuring Miki and the boyo of her life. I really don’t like dating sims at all, so I’m not sure if I could judge it fairly, even if I understood japanese. >.> But as far as I researched online, the general public and fans of the original source do seem to enjoy it, meaning that at least it does justice to the anime. The game seems programmed with passion as well, as it can be used along with a Super Game Boy for an exclusive border and more colorful pixelwork; it also has a password system, in case one screws up an answer and ends up with an undesired ending.

Unfortunately, no one has yet provided a translation patch neither for the Game Boy nor the SuFami version, and it’s clear that back in the day of its release, which is two years prior to Piccoli Problemi Di Cuore’s television airing, there was absolutely no interest in seeing it marketed to a western audience. Though, just imagine if an italian developing house would have taken interest into this spinoff as much as the television companies did with the cartoon! We’d have an italian translated Marmalade Boy’s videogame re-adapted to follow our own version of the story. An exorbitant cost for surely meager earnings, yet unmatched peculiarity... and probably, pride!

[maaji-maji-majima]

some kissing hcs for Majima?(if u can make it nsfw)

So I'm in a weird place with this. I don't want to leave you unanswered but I know you won't like the answer that I give. It has been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I'm not sure when along the timeline headcanon became synonymous with fanfiction. I appreciate fanfiction authors for their creativity, but I am not one myself. I use headcanon in the older definition of "this isn't in the source material, but it is true in my brain". They are either random things my half asleep mind thought of while walking home from work or a character analysis. At the same token your ask had crawled into my brainmeats and won't leave. So again, I apologize that this most definitely is not what you're looking for, but I hope someone out there finds this to be an interesting read.

Without further introduction, here is a character analysis of our favorite pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin in regards to relationships and why the he desperately needs therapy as brought to you by a different pansexual, gender fluid, emotionally stunted goblin who got therapy but probably needs more.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, self harm, mental disorders, poor coping strategies, unhealthy relationships, random tense changes, not fanfiction

Spoilers for the whole franchise, but very specifically for 0, K1, and 5.

Abuse does weird things to people's brains. In Yakuza 0 Majima has barely been out of the hole for a year. He might no longer be suffering the actual physical torture he had been subjected to the year prior, but he is still directly in the hands of his abusers and being watched every moment. He is still in a cage even if it doesn't look like one. He is depressed and likely suicidal, but doesn't follow through with those thoughts because he is determined to make sure Saejima has a home to come back to. He is willing to endure just about anything to allow Saejima a chance to exact that final moment of retribution because Saejima is the one who deserves it and Majima doesn't feel that there is any possibility for forgiveness. In all likelihood he hasn't sought out anyone for a hookup or paid company for an evening due to a combination of not feeling like he deserves anything that feels good and the fact that he's constantly being watched. The year in hole means he no longer really has a concept of privacy, but he's worried that getting close to someone, even for a few moments, could put them in danger if Sagawa or Shimano feels like holding something else over his head. It isn't worth accidentally dragging someone into his own personal hell. He no longer lives for the present, he is only living for that far-off future that he hopes isn't just a pipe dream.

Enter Makoto. At first she is a stand-in for Saejima's sister Yasuko, but it morphs rapidly from there. She is the light and kindness and hope that he hasn't seen in years and she's being dragged into his bullshit. He knows in his heart of hearts that she doesn't deserve what she is being forced into, so his mind snaps into the immediate and does everything he possibly can to save her. This is is the hill he wants to die on. Maybe, just maybe, he can end his miserable existence with a final act of good and he feels that Saejima might just be able to understand. But because he no longer has any relationships in his life that are not strictly professional or the abusers he cannot escape, he has little recollection of what a nuanced relationship or even friendship is any longer. Due to circumstance she is also the only person that he cannot keep at arm's length, no matter how desperately he tries. So he falls for her and falls hard. But in the end, after everything they go through he does the impossible. He lets her go. She has a life and a future, whereas he has neither of those. What would she do? Become his ane-san? Have some temporary happiness before she realizes she has a target on her back for the rest of her life? No. Majima believes she deserves so much more than that even though it hurts him deeply. What is one more hurt on top of everything else? He's gotten extremely good at burying his pain.

Getting to Tokyo flips a switch in Majima's brain. Like many people with mental trauma who don't have access to therapy he falls into excess as a way of self medicating. He fits virtually everything on the hedonism checklist. Drinking? Yeah. Violence? Hell yeah! Promiscuity? Yeah, but I ain't judging. Drugs? Probably, even though it isn't explicitly stated in game. Everything from his shift in personality to his wardrobe has become, intentionally or not, a defense mechanism. He has escaped from all of his abusers except for Shimano and he refuses to allow anyone to gain that kind of power over him again.

It is a double edged sword, however. His depression and PTSD are running unchecked. In all likelihood he hasn't fallen hard on vices as a way to reclaim ownership off his own body. Instead it seems more probable that he is dissociating. After everything he has been through he doesn't care what happens to his body in the long run because it isn't actually his anymore. Risky behavior, which is practically Majima's middle name, is also frequently used as a passive form of self harm because the end result is either temporarily feeling better thanks to endorphins and adrenaline or permanently feeling better after embracing death. He could achieve a similar feeling by taking up jogging and chasing a runners high, but that takes more time and energy than chugging a handle of whiskey or goading some chump into throwing hands. Sadly even now admitting to mental problems by seeking help is fairly stigmatized in Japan and it was only worse in the early 90s. Can't have a problem if no one tells you it's there, right?

Then he meets Mirei. She's intense but not wild like Majima. At that moment in time she is everything he needs. Head strong, domineering, and very, very determined. She knows exactly what buttons to press to wrap him right around her finger. And he lets her take the reigns, lets her run his life because he realizes he was doing a terrible job on his own. Better her than Shimano, right? Doing something wrong results in the cold shoulder instead of a vicious beating, and doing something right leads to more than simply the relief of avoiding a beating. He decides that making her happy is enough to make him happy. Until suddenly it isn't. He never wanted to be a father, but even the idea that he could have been was enough to cause a fundamental shift in his entire outlook on life. He could have had someone to live for, instead of just survive for. But he had no say in the matter and didn't know until the decision had been made for him. When Mirei told him she had an abortion he snapped. He hit her. The one and only time he raised his hands against her. Disgusted with himself, and wounded by her decision, he left. If he was capable of that, he knew couldn't be the person she had been trying to mold him into. He realized he was nothing but a weight around her neck dragging her down. And so that day signals the end of their short marriage. He spends the next several decades drowning in guilt for his actions while still resenting her for her choice.

That leaves us with Kiryu. Poor, oblivious Kiryu. Majima's fixation is multifaceted but in no small part due to the fact that Kiryu is one of the few people strong enough to hurt him, but is the only one that doesn't want to. And Majima just doesn't understand. After everything, he only deserves to hurt, right? Saejima, Yasuko, Makoto, Mirei. Everyone who gets too close to him ends up worse for it, so why won't Kiryu and his sense of honor seek justice on their behalf? So he does everything he possibly can to wind up Kiryu enough to Pay Attention Damnit, Fight Me. But Kiryu's response is always just flustered awkwardness because he doesn't want like fighting, it's just a part of his job, like wearing a suit or answering a phone. To Kiryu fighting isn't a thing done because it's enjoyable, it's done because it has to be. But he's still the only one who doesn't flinch when Majima brandishes a knife inches from his face.

And then Kiryu is arrested and in jail for ten years. And ten years is a long time to build someone up onto a pedestal. Like only wanting to talk about the best of a person after they've died. The same thing happened with Saejima. Build them in his mind to what he wants or needs them to be since they are not there to actively correct it. The decade is pretty miserable, going through the motions and trying to not make waves with the bigwigs while terrifying the minions into obedience. When he hears Kiryu is being released it is like waking up again. He all but waits at the taxi stand at the entrance of Kamurocho on the day of Kiryu's release, all but vibrating with excitement. It's a fight he has been waiting on for a decade, too bad it was little more than a disappointment.

So Majima decides to bring him back up to spec in that very Majima flavored way. Small fights, big fights, surprise fights. Kiryu is still reluctant because he doesn't have a reason beyond Majima's dreamed up training program he doesn't actually want to be a part of. Of course this only leads Majima to do everything possible to get under Kiryu's skin, including sharing his personal vulnerabilities while disguising them as jokes just to cause fights, but Kiryu just kind of rolls with it which leads to confusion and frustration on both sides. After a while Majima starts to get into Kiryu's hobbies, like pocket circuit, ostensibly as another form of picking a fight. And he discovers he actually enjoys a lot of it. And they are both too dense and emotionally stunted to realize they're basically dating at this point. At multiple points Majima takes potentially lethal blows meant for Kiryu and the excuse that he is the only one allowed to kill Kiryu is very, very thin. He just can't quite admit out loud that he doesn't want to see Kiryu truly hurt because that's weakness and he is Not Weak (tm).

Shimano's death and Kiryu's departure from the clan come as a whirlwind that destroys him all over again. He's left directionless. So he leaves the Tojo in an attempt to find his own way in the world, for the first time in over twenty years.

I think I need to call it here for now. I know I've left out Saejima and Daigo, among others, but I've been working on this for days and my progress has been eaten twice and I just don't have the energy to keep going right at this time. Maybe some day in the future I'll find the time and energy to write out the rest for all the other games.

tl;dr What Majima wants and what he needs are two different things. He wants to fightfuck, but he needs to be bear hugged into submission so that he can have that mental breakdown he's been carefully bottling up for over thirty years. He needs a good, ugly cry. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.