#the world openly hating and reviling us

[former-leftist-jew]

"Christa... I felt the same. That it would have been better if I was never born at all. The world hated me just for existing. To give countless joy to many people, I gave up my life. But - when I did, I wished from the bottom of my heart. If someday I was given a second chance at life... This time. I would live for no one but myself!"

Ymir (left), convincing her beloved Cyrsta (right) to stop lowkey throwing herself into suicide missions to please the society that openly wish she'd never been born... because Ymir has spent her whole life hating herself for being Jewish "Aldean."

I'll admit, when I first saw this scene in Attack on Titan, I cried for like an hour, and had to process it for like a day. This show understands what it's like to go from a self-hating Jew trying to "pass" as goy, to learning to love yourself and live for those you love, despite the people who want you dead, better than most media I could name.

[voidfragments]

"the world will outlive your malice; the threads of a silkworm have more longevity than your ire. yet you act like you've torn an unhealing wound into the earth." he could speak with his own anger, an emotion he used to wear on his head like the fallen crown he had once borne the weight of. he could speak with despair, because he has felt the depths of it even for the reviled night-touring green lantern. instead, he speaks impassively. there is no peace, but there is no unrest. his gaze avoids his cousin's face. the only hint as to his true feelings rests in the slight downward slope of his eyebrows. a cool wind rattles against the patchwork rooftop of puqi shrine. after another passing second, xie lian's lips twitch into a rueful smile.

"the shrine will also survive another tantrum. better yet, i can stop you from throwing one altogether. so," fake mirth plasters itself across the crown prince's expression, "what brings you to this one's humble dwelling?"

tch. as always, what arrogance, what self-righteousness! it makes his brow furrow, lip pulled back in a disgusted snarl. to be openly hated would be one thing--certainly, not preferred, but something qi rong is at least used to--but this dismissive dispassion? it is infuriating. it makes him crave violence, makes him want to tear at the fucking mask of indifference his cousin wears to reveal the hideous resentment he's sure is hidden beneath.

it is, of course, only one's closest people who can rouse such wrath in them within moments of greeting.

"who's throwing tantrums?" a click of his tongue. "hundreds of years and you still think me a child." he chooses to not engage with the former comment for now, but it's tucked away as a topic for a future argument. there are so many things wrong with it, he doesn't even know where to start. have the schemes resulting from his rage not left deep marks on the world? is that even the point? is he not in it for the self-satisfaction of revenge, for spite, for himself?

as for what he's doing here, however. before answering that, something far more important-- "drop the fake-ass smile, lose the pleasantries, you're gonna make me sick." he can't even bear to look at xie lian. "surely you wouldn't believe it if i said i was in the area and thought to pay a visit to my dear cousin." obviously not; he's not even trying to pass it off as the truth. if this were 800 years ago, maybe it could've been true.

[rainbowsky]

I think the reason Solo Stan’s dislike bxg so much is because you guys always equate every single thing they do to the other person which really dismisses their own achievements, maybe for some it’s homophobia but it’s for what I stated

In every single event of Yibo’s or whenever he achieves something great you always have to include xz for some reason and it’s really frustrating to see

Wow, a DD solo. A rare sighting in these parts! Usually it's GG solos who write me to bitch about turtles. 👋🏻

While it's true that there are definitely some turtles who are like that, most are not. Not if you actually take the time to talk to them and scratch deeper than the surface of what they're saying.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

CPN is not a railway line in Canada

A lot of solos don't get the concept of CPN, nor do they even bother to try to understand it. Understanding it would humanize turtles and make it harder to badmouth and bully us. Far easier to just dismiss everything we say as delusional and obsessive than to actually comprehend that we're simply looking at things through our own two eyes - just like you are.

Solos don't get it that what someone believes about GG and DD will necessarily inform how they interpret things GG and DD say and do. Fans who think they are straight and single will view their behavior through that lens. Fans who believe they are queer and in a gay relationship will view their behavior through that lens. This is not even conscious or intentional - it's just what naturally happens. It's part of how the human brain works.

Solos bitch about the ways in which we view GGDD through a couple lens, but they never take the time to self-reflect and realize that they're doing the exact same thing we're doing, just in the reverse.

Solos belief that GGDD aren't a couple leads them to view everything GG and DD do through the lens that they're straight, single, not into each other. Here are some of the deleterious effects of that behavior:

It often leads solos to behave in queer-phobic ways that will definitely have a negative impact on the very obviously queer GG and DD. Don't think they don't notice it, or that it doesn't hurt.

It often leads solos to try to interfere with turtles ability to come out and support GGDD at live events or in charitable ways in the world. Let me say that again: Solos frequently attempt to prevent turtles from showing their support for GGDD, and frequently attempt to interfere - sometimes quite successfully - with the charitable works they do in GGDD's name. Just ponder that for a moment, how utterly toxic that is, and how utterly harmful that is. And if GGDD are together, and if they're queer, just think how fucked up that would feel, to have your solo fans try to erase all support for their relationship, and erase the only things that could ever openly be done in their names.

It leads solos to completely ignore and dismiss the evidence that GG and DD are together, that they care about and support each other, that they want harmony among their fans.

It leads solos to saying and doing hateful things against GG and DD and each treating the other man as the reviled enemy of their fandom. Imagine how that must feel, to have your fans attacking the person you love?

It leads to solos actively warring with turtles, and with GG and DD's solo fans. Something we know for a fact that they dislike, don't want, and which can actually be directly harmful to them in this current climate.

This is a non-comprehensive list, just a few things to reflect on, Anon. You think you're not doing anything - that it's we who have the 'point of view that influences our behavior', but you have a point of view too. You just very rarely are put in any kind of position to examine or self-reflect on that point of view and the impact it might have on others.

Dominant groups are like that, though. It's one of the more toxic things about dominance, and about the status quo. As the amazing Jackson Katz put so well in this classic video about the mindset of domestic violence,

"A lot of people hear the word 'gender' and they think it means 'women', so they think that gender issues are synonymous with women's issues... In the US when we hear the word, 'race' a lot of people think that means African-American, Latino, Asian-American, Native-American, South-Asian, Pacific Islander and on and on. A lot of people when they hear the word 'sexual orientation' think it means gay, lesbian, bisexual. And a lot of people when they hear the word gender think it means women. In each case the dominant group doesn't get paid attention to. As if white people don't have some sort of racial identity or belong to some sort of racial category or construct, as if heterosexual people don't have a sexual orientation, as if men don't have a gender. This is one of the ways that dominant systems maintain and reproduce themselves, which is to say that the dominant group is rarely challenged to even think about its dominance, because that's one of the key characteristics of power and privilege; the ability to go unexamined, lacking introspection. In fact being rendered invisible, in large measure, in the discourse about issues that are primarily about us."

So, Anon, you can complain about 'what turtles say, do or think' as though we are the only ones 'saying, doing or thinking something', but you have your own doings that are often less than savory. Doings that I think GG and DD must cringe over at times - that probably even cause them emotional pain and add to the anxiety they live with in their daily lives as queer men in a homophobic society - as celebrities being in many ways beholden to broad swathes of people who are utterly hostile to fundamental aspects of who they are as people. To who they are, and who they love.

But that's your right as a fan, just as my perspective is my right as a fan. That's why I'm always preaching for everyone to stay in their own lane.

PS] The idea that anything turtles do diminishes GGDD's accomplishments is ridiculous. Their accomplishments are undeniable, and not something anyone could ever take away from them - intentionally or otherwise. And turtles are some of GG and DD's biggest cheerleaders, biggest supporters. That whole line of rhetoric holds less water than an astronaut's lunch.

[fedonciadale]

I think it's hilarious how Ary@ stans want her to be qitn, warrior queen protector of the smallfolk, the prettiest ever, etc, so basically, they believe the ending should be "like in the songs". Because that's exactly how their reviled AGOT Sansa acted/thought, but if there's a message grrm has drilled openly is that "this is not a song". Idk, I thought it was a really funny irony they think in the same way their most hated character *used* to think lol

Hi there!

Yes, it is funny. I once got someone in my ask box who told me that GRRM is writing grimdark fantasy and that there is no way Sansa could have a happy ending in that world... And then they proceeded to tell me how Dany would get it all, the crown, Jon, Targ restoration.

So, it's more about Sansa being punished for dreaming while their dreams for their favs are fulfilled - even if it's not even the dream of the character herself in case of Ary@. It boggles my mind.

At least in this Sansa fans are consistent. We stan the girl who stays good and believes in good and we believe she won't be punished for that.

Just as an aside. People should remember that the In-world characters who tell us that 'life is not a song' are not very reliable. I mean do we honestly want to put our trust in Littlefinger? People should also remember that songs can be about conflict, retribution, revenge, tragic endings without losing the quality of an epic song.

They finally should remember that they read a 'song' a song about how ice and fire threatened Westeros and how Westeros prevailed..through hardship and deaths. 🤷‍♀️

Thanks!

[1cindyschineselitblog]

Five Interesting Nonfiction Books (China)

1. Young China by Zak Dychtwald

A close up look at the Chinese generation born after 1990 exploring through personal encounters how young Chinese feel about everything from money and sex, to their government, the West, and China’s shifting role in the world--not to mention their love affair with food, karaoke, and travel. Set primarily in the Eastern 2nd tier city of Suzhou and the budding Western metropolis of Chengdu, the book charts the touchstone issues this young generation faces. From single-child pressure, to test taking madness and the frenzy to buy an apartment as a prerequisite to marriage, from one-night-stands to an evolving understanding of family, Young China offers a fascinating portrait of the generation who will define what it means to be Chinese in the modern era. (Amazon.com)

2. The Corpse Walker by Liao Yiwu

The Corpse Walker introduces us to regular men and women at the bottom of Chinese society, most of whom have been battered by life but have managed to retain their dignity: a professional mourner, a human trafficker, a public toilet manager, a leper, a grave robber, and a Falung Gong practitioner, among others. By asking challenging questions with respect and empathy, Liao Yiwu managed to get his subjects to talk openly and sometimes hilariously about their lives, desires, and vulnerabilities, creating a book that is an instance par excellence of what was once upon a time called “The New Journalism.” The Corpse Walker reveals a fascinating aspect of modern China, describing the lives of normal Chinese citizens in ways that constantly provoke and surprise. (Goodreads.com)

3. Wu: The Chinese Empress who schemed, seduced, and murdered her way to become a living God by Jonathan Clements

Empress Wu Zetian (624-705 AD) was the only woman to be the sovereign ruler of imperial China. A teenage concubine of the Tang Emperor Taizong, she seduced his son while the emperor lay dying. Recalled from a nunnery as part of an intricate court power-game, she caused the deaths of two lady rivals, before securing her enthronement as the Emperor Gaozong’s consort. She ruled in the name of her husband and two eldest sons, presiding over the pinnacle of the Silk Road, before proclaiming herself the founder of a new dynasty. Worshipped as the Sage Mother of Mankind and reviled as the Treacherous Fox, she was deposed aged 79, after angry courtiers murdered her two young lovers.The subject of countless books, plays and films, Empress Wu remains a feminist icon and a bugbear of Chinese conservatism. Jonathan Clements weighs the evidence of her life and legacy: so charismatic that she could rise from nothing to the height of medieval power, so hated that her own children left her tombstone blank. (Amazon.com)

4. The Art of War by Sun Tzu

The “Art of War” is one of the most quoted and influential books in history. Written 2,000 years ago in Ancient China, it continues to be studied in military academies the world over. Sun Tzu’s keen observations on warfare and strategy reverberate to this day. The Chinese general’s key premise is that all war should be avoided with diplomacy. Yet when one is forced to fight, he explains the strategy and tactics one must use to ensure a speedy resolution that entails as little suffering as possible. In one famous quote, he explains, “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” Dr. Lionel Gills was not the first scholar to translate Sun Tzu’s masterpiece into English, but his translation is perhaps the definitive version. Its reputation has cemented it as a must-read for world leaders, politicians, military strategists, scholars, philosophers, captains of industry, and anyone with an interest in the thoughts and perceptions of a great and highly tactical mind. (Amazon.com)

5. 1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows by Ai Weiwei

Ai Weiwei's sculptures and installations have been viewed by millions around the globe, and his architectural achievements include helping to design the iconic Bird's Nest Olympic Stadium in Beijing. His political activism has long made him a target of the Chinese authorities, which culminated in months of secret detention without charge in 2011. Here, for the first time, Ai Weiwei explores the origins of his exceptional creativity and passionate political beliefs through his life story and that of his father, whose creativity was stifled. At once ambitious and intimate, Ai Weiwei's 1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows offers a deep understanding of the myriad forces that have shaped modern China, and serves as a timely reminder of the urgent need to protect freedom of expression. (Goodreads.com)

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous said: I didn’t know too much about the late British philosopher Sir Roger Scruton until I followed your superbly cultured blog. As an ivy league educated American reading your posts, I feel he is a breath of fresh air as a sane and cultured conservative intellectual. We don’t really have his kind over here where things are heavily polarized between left and right, and sadly, we are often uncivil in our discourse. Sir Roger Scruton talks a lot about beauty especially in art (as indeed you do too), so for Scruton why does beauty as an aesthetic matter in art? Why should we care?

I thank you for your very kind words about my blog which I fear is not worthy of such fulsome praise.

However one who is worthy of praise (or at least gratitude and appreciation at least) is the late Sir Roger Scruton. I have had the pleasure to have met him on a few informal occasions.

Most memorably, I once got invited to High Table dinner at Peterhouse, Cambridge, by a friend who was a junior Don there. This was just after I had finished my studies at Cambridge and rather than pursue my PhD I opted instead to join the British army as a combat pilot officer. And so I found out that Scruton was dining too. We had very pleasant drinks in the SCR before and after dinner. He was exceptionally generous and kind in his consideration of others; we all basked in the gentle warmth of his wit and wisdom.

I remember talking to him about Xanthippe, Socrate’s wife, because I had read his wickedly funny fictional satire. In the book he credits the much maligned Xanthippe with being the brains behind all of Socrates’ famous philosophical ideas (as espoused by Plato).

On other occasions I had seen Roger Scruton give the odd lecture in London or at some cultural forum.

Other than that, I’ve always admire both the man and many of his ideas from afar. I do take issue with some of his intellectual ideas which seem to be taken a tad too far (he think pre-Raphaelites were kitsch) but it’s impossible to dislike the man in person.

Indeed the Marxist philosopher G.A. Cohen reportedly once refused to teach a seminar with Scruton, although they later became very good friends. This is the gap between the personal and the public persona. In public he was reviled as hate figure by some of the more intolerant of the leftists who were trying to shut him down from speaking. But in private his academic peers, writers, and philosophers, regardless of their political beliefs, hugely respected him and took his ideas seriously - because only in private will they ever admit that much of what Scruton talks about has come to pass.

In many ways he was like C.S. Lewis - a pariah to the Oxbridge establishment. At Oxford many dons poo-pooed his children stories, and especially his Christian ideas of faith, culture, and morality, and felt he should have laid off the lay theology and stuck to his academic speciality of English Literature. But an Oxford friend, now a don, tells me that many dons read his theological works in private because much of what he wrote has become hugely relevant today.

Scruton was a man of parts, some of which seemed irreconcilable: barrister, aesthetician, distinguished professor of aesthetics. Outside of brief pit stops at Cambridge, Oxford, and St Andrews, he was mostly based out of Birkbeck College, London University, which had a tradition of a working-class intake and to whom Scruton was something of a popular figure. He was also an editor of the ultra-Conservative Salisbury Review, organist, and an enthusiastic fox hunter. In addition he wrote over 50 books on philosophy, art, music, politics, literature, culture, sexuality, and religion, as well as finding time to write novels and two operas. He was widely recognised for his services to philosophy, teaching and public education, receiving a knighthood in 2016.

He was exactly the type of polymath England didn’t know what to do with because we British do discourage such continental affectations and we prefer people to know their lane and stick to it. Above all we’re suspicious of polymaths because no one likes a show off. Scruton could be accused of a few things but he never perceived as a show off. He was a gentle, reserved, and shy man of kindly manners.

He was never politically ‘Conservative’, or tried not to be. Indeed he encouraged many to think about defining “a philosophy of conservatism” and not “a philosophy for the Conservative Party.” In defining his own thoughts, he positioned conservatism to relation to its historical rivals, liberalism and socialism. He wrote that liberalism was the product of the enlightenment, which viewed society as a contract and the state as a system for guaranteeing individual rights. While he saw socialism as the product of the industrial revolution, and an ideology which views society as an economic system and the state as a means of distributing social wealth.

Like another great English thinkers, Michael Oakeshott, he felt that conservatives leaned more towards liberalism then socialism, but argued that for conservatives, freedom should also entail responsibility, which in turn depends on public spirit and virtue. Many classical liberals would agree.

In fact, he criticised Thatcherism for “its inadequate emphasis on the civic virtues, such as self-sacrifice, duty, solidarity and service of others.” Scruton agreed with classical liberals in believing that markets are not necessarily expressions of selfishness and greed, but heavily scolded his fellow Conservatives for allowing themselves to be caricatured as leaving social problems to the market. Classical liberals could be criticised for the same neglect.

Perhaps his conservative philosophy was best summed up when he wrote “Liberals seek freedom, socialists equality, and conservatives responsibility. And, without responsibility, neither freedom nor equality have any lasting value.”

Scruton’s politics were undoubtedly linked to his philosophy, which was broadly Hegelian. He took the view that all of the most important aspects of life – truth (the perception of the world as it is), beauty (the creation and appreciation of things valued for their own sake), and self-realisation (the establishment by a person of a coherent, autonomous identity) – can be achieved only as part of a cultural community within which meaning, standards and values are validated. But he had a wide and deep understanding of the history of western philosophy as a whole, and some of his best philosophical work consisted of explaining much more clearly than is often the case how different schools of western philosophy relate to one another.

People today still forget how he was a beacon for many East European intellectuals living under Communist rule in the 1980s.  Scruton was deeply attached in belonging to a network of renowned Western scholars who were helping the political opposition in Eastern Europe. Their activity began in Czechoslovakia with the Jan Hus Foundation in 1980, supported by a broad spectrum of scholars from Jacques Derrida and Juergen Habermas to Roger Scruton and David Regan. Then came Poland, Hungary and later Romania. In Poland, Scruton co-founded the Jagiellonian Trust, a small but significant organisation. The other founders and active participants were Baroness Caroline Cox, Jessica Douglas-Home, Kathy Wilkes, Agnieszka Kołakowska, Dennis O’Keeffe, Timothy Garton Ash, and others.

Scruton had a particular sympathy for Prague and the Czech society, which bore fruit in the novel, Notes from Underground, which he wrote many years later. But his involvement in East European affairs was more than an emotional attachment.  He believed that Eastern Europe - despite the communist terror and aggressive social engineering - managed to preserve a sense of historical continuity and strong ties to European and national traditions, more unconscious than openly articulated, which made it even more valuable. For this reason, decades later, he warned his East European friends against joining the European Union, arguing that whatever was left of those ties will be demolished by the political and ideological bulldozer of European bureaucracy.

Anyway, digressions aside, onto to the heart of your question.

Art matters.

Let’s start from there. Regardless of your personal tastes or aesthetics as you stand before a painting, slip inside a photograph, run your hand along the length of a sculpture, or move your body to the arrangements spiraling out of the concert speakers…something very primary - and primal - is happening. And much of it sub-conscious. There’s an element of trust.

Political philosopher, Hannah Arendt, defined artworks as “thought things,” ideas given material form to inspire reflection and rumination. Dialogue. Sometimes even discomfort. Art has the ability to move us, both positively and negatively. So we know that art matters. But the question posed by modern philosophers such as Roger Scruton has been: how do we want it to affect us?

Are we happy with the direction art is taking? Namely, says, Scruton, away from seeking “higher virtues” such as beauty and craftmanship, and instead, towards novelty for novelty’s sake, provoking emotional response under the guise of socio-political discourse.

Why does beauty in art matter?  

Scruton asks us to wake up and start demanding something more from art other than disposable entertainment. “Through the pursuit of beauty,” suggests Scruton, “we shape the world as our own and come to understand our nature as spiritual beings. But art has turned its back on beauty and now we are surrounded by ugliness.” The great artists of the past, says Scruton, “were painfully aware that human life was full of care and suffering, but their remedy was beauty. The beautiful work of art brings consolation in sorrow and affirmation…It shows human life to be worthwhile.” But many modern artists, argues the philosopher, have become weary of this “sacred task” and replaced it with the “randomness” of art produced merely to gain notoriety and the result has been anywhere between kitsch to ugliness that ultimately leads to inward alienation and nihilistic despair.

The best way to understand Scruton’s idea of beauty in art and why it matters is to let him speak for himself. Click below on the video and watch a BBC documentary broadcast way back in 2009 that he did precisely on this subject, why beauty matters. It will not be a wasted hour but perhaps enrich and even enlighten your perspective on the importance of beauty in art.

So I’ll do my best to summarise the point Scruton is making in this documentary above.

Here goes.....

In his 2009 documentary “Why Beauty Matters”, Scruton argues that beauty is a universal human need that elevates us and gives meaning to life. He sees beauty as a value, as important as truth or goodness, that can offer “consolation in sorrow and affirmation in joy”, therefore showing human life to be worthwhile.

According to Scruton, beauty is being lost in our modern world, particularly in the fields of art and architecture.

I was raised in many different cultures from India, Pakistan, to China, Japan, Southern Africa, and the Middle East as well schooling in rural Britain and Switzerland. So coming home to London on frequent visits was often a confusing experience because of the mismatch of modern art and new architecture. In life and in art I have chosen to see the beauty in things, locating myself in Paris, where I am surrounded by beauty, and understand the impact it can have on the everyday.

Scruton’s disdain for modern art begins with Marcel Duchamp’s urinal. Originally a satirical piece designed to mock the world of art and the snobberies that go with it, it has come to mean that anything can be art and anyone can be an artist. A “cult of ugliness” was created where originality is placed above beauty and the idea became more important than the artwork itself. He argues that art became a joke, endorsed by critics, doing away with a need for skill, taste or creativity.

Duchamp’s argument was that the value of any object lies solely in what each individual assigns it, and thus, anything can be declared “art,” and anyone an artist.

But is there something wrong with the idea that everything is art and everyone an artist? If we celebrate the democratic ideals of all citizens being equal and therefore their input having equal value, doesn’t Duchamp’s assertion make sense?

Who’s to say, after all, what constitutes beauty?

This resonated with me in particular and brought to mind when Scruton meets the artist Michael Craig-Martin and asks him about how Duchamp’s urinal first made him feel. Martin is best known for his work “An Oak Tree” which is a glass of water on a shelf, with text beside it explaining why it is an oak tree. Martin argues that Duchamp captures the imagination and that art is an art because we think of it as such.

When I first saw “An Oak Tree” I was confused and felt perhaps I didn’t have the intellect to understand it. When I would later question it with friends who worked in the art auction and gallery world, the response was always “You just don’t get it,” which became a common defence. To me, it was reminiscent of Hans Christian Andersen’s short tale “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, about two weavers who promise an emperor a new suit of clothes that they say is invisible to those who are unfit for their positions, stupid or incompetent. In reality, they make no clothes at all.

Scruton argues that the consumerist culture has been the catalyst for this change in modern art. We are always being sold something, through advertisements that feed our appetite for stuff, adverts try to be brash and outrageous to catch our attention. Art mimics advertising as artists attempt to create brands, the product that they sell is themselves. The more shocking and outrageous the artwork, the more attention it receives. Scruton is particularly disturbed by Piero Manzoni’s artwork “Artist’s Shit” which consists of 90 tin cans filled with the artist’s excrement.

Moreover the true aesthetic value, the beauty, has vanished in modern works that are selling for millions of dollars. In such works, by artists like Rothko, Franz Kline, Damien Hirst, and Tracey Emin, the beauty has been replaced by discourse. The lofty ideals of beauty are replaced by a social essay, however well intentioned.

A common argument for modern art is that it is reflecting modern life in all of its disorder and ugliness. Scruton suggests that great art has always shown the real in the light of the ideal and that in doing so it is transfigured.

A great painting does not necessarily have a beautiful subject matter, but it is made beautiful through the artist’s interpretation of it. Rembrandt shows this with his portraits of crinkly old women and men or the compassion and kindness of which Velazquez paints the dwarfs in the Spanish court. Modern art often takes the literal subject matter and misses the creative act. Scruton expresses this point using the comparison of Tracey Emin’s artwork ‘My Bed’ and a painting by Delacroix of the artist’s bed.

The subject matters are the same. The unmade beds in all of their sordid disdain. Delacroix brings beauty to a thing that lacks it through the considered artistry of his interpretation and by doing so, places a blessing on his own emotional chaos. Emin shares the ugliness that the bed shows by using the literal bed. According to Emin, it is art because she says that it is so.

Philosophers argued that through the pursuit of beauty, we shape the world as our home. Traditional architecture places beauty before utility, with ornate decorative details and proportions that satisfy our need for harmony. It reminds us that we have more than just practical needs but moral and spiritual needs too. Oscar Wilde said “All art is absolutely useless,” intended as praise by placing art above utility and on a level with love, friendship, and worship. These are not necessarily useful but are needed.

We have all experienced the feeling when we see something beautiful. To be transported by beauty, from the ordinary world to, as Scruton calls it, “the illuminated sphere of contemplation.” It is as if we feel the presence of a higher world. Since the beginning of western civilisation, poets and philosophers have seen the experience of beauty as a calling to the divine.

According to Scruton, Plato described beauty as a cosmic force flowing through us in the form of sexual desire. He separated the divine from sexuality through the distinction between love and lust. To lust is to take for oneself, whereas to love is to give. Platonic love removes lust and invites us to engage with it spiritually and not physically. As Plato says, “Beauty is a visitor from another world. We can do nothing with it save contemplate its pure radiance.”

Scruton makes the prescient point that art and beauty were traditionally aligned in religious works of art. Science impacted religion and created a spiritual vacuum. People began to look to nature for beauty, and there was a shift from religious works of art to paintings of landscapes and human life.

In today’s world of art and architecture, beauty is looked upon as a thing of the past with disdain. Scruton believes his vision of beauty gives meaning to the world and saves us from meaningless routines to take us to a place of higher contemplation. In this I think Scruton encourages us not to take revenge on reality by expressing its ugliness, but to return to where the real and the ideal may still exist in harmony “consoling our sorrows and amplifying our joys.”

Scruton believes when you train any of your senses you are privy to a heightened world. The artist sees beauty everywhere and they are able to draw that beauty out to show to others. One finds the most beauty in nature, and nature the best catalyst for creativity. The Tonalist painter George Inness advised artists to paint their emotional response to their subject, so that the viewer may hope to feel it too.

It must be said that Scruton’s views regarding art and beauty are not popular with the modern art crowd and their postmodern advocates. Having written several books on aesthetics, Scruton has developed a largely metaphysical aspect to understanding standards of art and beauty.

Throughout this documentary (and indeed his many books and articles), Scruton display a bias towards ‘high’ art, evidenced by a majority of his examples as well as his dismissal of much modern art. However on everyday beauty, there is much space for Scruton to challenge his own categories and extend his discussion to include examples from popular culture, such as in music, graphic design, and film. Omitting ‘low art’ in the discussion of beauty could lead one to conclude that beauty is not there.

It is here I would part ways with Scruton. I think there is beauty to be found in so called low art of car design, popular music or cinema for example - here I’m thinking of a Ferrari 250 GTO,  jazz, or the films of Bergman, Bresson, or Kurosawa (among others) come to mind. Scruton gives short thrift to such 20th century art forms which should not be discounted when we talk of beauty. It’s hard to argue with Jean-Luc Godard for instance when he once said of French film pioneering director, Robert Bresson, “He is the French cinema, as Dostoevsky is the Russian novel and Mozart is German music.”

Overall though I believe Scruton does enough to leave us to ponder ourselves on the importance of beauty in the arts and our lives, including fine arts, music, and architecture. I think he succeeds in illuminating the poverty, dehumanisation and fraud of modernist and post-modernist cynicism, reductionism and nihilism. Scruton is rightly prescient in pointing the centrality of human aspiration and the longing for truth in both life and art.

In this he is correct in showing that goodness and beauty are universal and fundamentally important; and that the value of anything is not utilitarian and without meaning (e.g., Oscar Wilde’s claim that “All art is absolutely useless.”). Human beings are not purposeless material objects for mechanistic manipulation by others, and civil society itself depends upon a cultural consensus that beauty is real and every person should be respected with compassion as having dignity and nobility with very real spiritual needs to encounter and be transformed and uplifted by beauty.

Thanks for your question.

[aurora077]

Intervention

Summary: Lan Xichen’s seclusion had gone on long enough, in Jiang Cheng’s opinion. It was time for an intervention. Fem!JC

Author's Note: This work is set in jiucengta ‘s haunting legacies au (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716682)which I suggest you check out. Jiang Cheng is female and was married to Wei Wuxian before shit hit the fan. The relationships are not explicitly stated here, it's very background. I just had this idea and wanted to get it out there. I may or may not do another fic very similar to this one but not set in an AU, just post-canon instead.

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Two years had gone by since the fateful Guanyin Temple incident that rocked the cultivation world. Two years (a little more really) since Jiang Cheng’s erstwhile husband had returned from the dead. Two years (a little less actually but who’s counting) since she lost her widowed status and gained an extra love to boot somewhere in the middle. And two years since Sect Leader Lan had gone into seclusion, punishing himself for his blindness and mourning the loss of both his sworn brothers.

Normally Jiang Cheng would not stick her nose in other sects’ business. But Gusu Lan had become more than just another sect to her; it was important to those she loved and so, it was also important to her. And even if things hadn’t turned out the way they did in her personal life, Lan Xichen is someone she would have wanted to help anyway. During the thirteen years her husband had been dead he had been one of the few to show any open support for her.

She would never forget that fateful discussion conference-- the one where she’d been dubbed Wife of the Yiling Demon after she rebuffed Jin Guangshan’s attempt to pressure her into marriage (brokered by him no less-- undoubtedly trying to get her to wed one of his own relatives...control over the Jiang could only work in his favour). Loudmouthed Sect Leader Yao would have turned things even uglier for her had it not been for Lan Xichen’s timely intervention on her behalf. His steady support had helped her in more ways than one over the years despite the fact that they were not ever particularly close. With Gusu Lan seemingly in her corner, the voices that would (and initially, did) loudly decry a young female Sect Leader were forced to whisper instead.

That was why she found herself sitting opposite the man, sipping on a cup of tea as he gazed inquisitively at her.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he greeted, sounding weary, voice containing only a trace of his former warmth, “What brings you here? As you know I am still in seclusion, technically, I should not be having visitors. Is there something urgent that you need my help with?”

“Yes,” she said, and continued bluntly as was her way, “I’m here to convince you to leave it.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

It spoke to the measure of self control the Lan’s had that he didn’t simply kick her out of the hanshi.

“I beg your pardon but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

She cleared her throat and tried to measure her words more carefully; she didn’t want to be asked to leave before she had made her arguments and she tried to remember that this Lan Xichen had been hurt too deeply to retain his former magnanimity.

“You may not know it Lan Xichen, but outside these walls you are sorely missed.”

His lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it.

“I’m aware my family may miss me, Sect Leader Jiang, but I had no idea that you harbored such strong feelings towards me that you now miss my presence.”

She sputtered slightly, not expecting him to joke about it when he looked like he could keel over if she spoke too loudly. “I…” her face turned red, “That wasn’t what…”

Taking pity on her he waved her protests away, voice becoming more solemn, “Why don’t you tell me why you think I should leave my seclusion. You of all people should understand why I need to do this. It was your family hurt the most by my ignorance.”

She drew in a breath to steady herself, “Did you hold me responsible when Wei Wuxian did all the crap that he did?”

“That’s different, he was manipulated,” he frowned.

“Nobody knew that until recently Zewu-Jun. And manipulation or not he still made choices that led to a lot of harm. So I ask you again, was I to blame? Should I not have been able to stop my husband? Is it not, therefore also my fault? Maybe I should join you in seclusion since his demonic cultivation was partly because he gave me his core and had no options left.”

He looked pained, “I have never blamed you for his choices. You couldn’t help what you didn’t know. None of us knew he didn’t have a core.”

“And none of us knew Jin Guangyao was a megalomaniac either. So how can you be blamed for his choices? If you are to shoulder the blame then so should all the rest of us.”

“The rest of you weren’t his sworn brothers!” he almost shouted.

“Mingjue knew. He warned me not to trust him so many times. I dismissed him. I thought he was paranoid and misjudging A-Yao like so many others. If he could see it, why didn’t I? I wronged Da-ge in the worst way because I thought I knew better than him,” His breathing was coming out ragged, “I thought A-Yao was the one who knew me best. Who I knew best.”

It spoke to his state of mind that he even let all of that out in front of her.

“Sect Leader Jiang, the man I considered my closest companion is the man most hated by the cultivation world and reviled as a monster. How do you think I must look in comparison? I am sure there are those out there wondering if I had known and if I even helped him with all of his plans. There are people who will speculate as to the bounds of our relationship. If I did not go into seclusion they would say I had no shame, look what his sworn brother did and he’s out and about like normal. Then there are those who look at my decision to seclude myself as an indicator of guilt and may accuse me of complicity. Or they will look at my mourning and see someone who mourns a monster and who does that? Why mourn a monster? Sect Leader Yao even openly criticised your young nephew for crying at the coffin of his uncle who also helped raise him. A parentless child who saw one of his only remaining close family members die brutally after being exposed as a serious criminal, who even threatened him with bodily harm, could not grieve him without censure. What of a grown man, and a Sect Leader at that!”

“With all due respect, so what?”

“E..excuse me?” Lan Xichen was torn between being confused and insulted.

“You heard me. So. What?” she started, “So what if they think these things? Does that make it true? If Sect Leader Yao thinks that you’re an incestuous troll would that make it true? If Sect Leader Ouyang says ‘hey did you know that Sect Leader Lan likes to visit brothels in secret’ would that make it true? Just because people think something does not make it a reality. Your sect certainly does not believe you are responsible for the actions of Jin Guangyao and would stand by you if anyone insinuates otherwise. You have your brother and your uncle who love you and are worried about you. Your sect has thrived under your leadership and undoubtedly they all miss you too.”

That Lan Jingyi kid couldn’t shut up about how much he missed Zewu-Jun. And she knew Lan Zhan missed his brother and lamented that he could not do more for him. He and Lan Qiren were working themselves ragged trying to pick up the pieces. He’d hardly had time to come back to Lotus Pier and she and Wei Ying missed him dearly. They’d had to make up so many ‘official’ reasons to find themselves in the Cloud Recesses so that they could spend some time together. So yes on the one hand it would be good for them if Zewu-Jun were to leave seclusion but she wasn’t simply doing it for that reason. It was because if anyone could understand what Zewu-Jun was going through, it would be her. And she didn’t think that seclusion was going to help anything. All it would do is make him ruminate on his mistakes over and over again until he likely went mad himself.

“You said that the man you considered your closest companion turned out to be a monster. Gee, I wonder what that feels like? You said that people will wonder if you helped him with his plans, oh gee, I wonder what that feels like?” Zewu-Jun had the grace to look abashed at that.

She continued, softer, “You said people will talk about what kind of person mourns a monster. But you’re not mourning a monster, are you? When A-Ling cried over his coffin, did you blame him for it? Did you think ‘why is this child mourning when he should celebrate the end of the one who fractured his family?’ like Sect Leader Yao did?” Zewu-Jun shook his head but didn’t say anything, letting her continue.

“A-Ling was mourning the loss of the uncle he knew. And you are mourning the loss of the companion he had been to you. The world will only ever view him as a monster because the world never knew him. But you did. Maybe you didn’t know everything about him, but not everything about him was fake. I hate Jin Guangyao, I will not pretend otherwise. But I was there, Zewu-Jun. I was there, and I could see that he truly did care for you and value you. Not everything he showed you would have been fake. You of all people probably got more sincerity out of him than anyone else. And so you, of all people, have a right to mourn the man he was, the same way A-Ling still mourns the loss of the man who gifted a lonely child a dog. Not everything had an ulterior motive. Even monsters can love can’t they? Even monsters had people who loved them. I would know. So if you need to mourn him… then just mourn him.

Who gives a damn what people will say about it? People will always talk, Zewu-Jun. It doesn’t matter what you do or don’t do, people will believe what they want to believe. So why let their opinions force you into repenting for something you didn’t even do? Let them think what they want to think. It is not a crime to be deceived. We all were. Why take the world on your shoulders when you don’t actually have to? And again, with all due respect Sect Leader Lan, if I, a family-less, alliance-less woman whose husband was the most reviled personage in the jianghu, who suffered the scorn of the cultivation world for over a decade, could raise my nephew on my own and build my sect back from literal ashes into one of the strongest and most respected once again, then you, who have a strong sect and people who love you, who believe in you and will support you no matter what… you can manage to live too.”

“Sect Leader Jiang…” Zewu-Jun was at a loss for words. What could he say? It only sounded selfish and petty to claim that he suffered more than she did, because he truly didn’t. She was right after all. Sect Leader Jiang was a remarkable woman. Life had not been kind to her. And...her words struck something within him. He felt ashamed. He hadn’t even thought about what it was like for her before this. He’d never offered her any support, but here she was trying to get him to live his life again without guilt. She, whose family most assuredly suffered because of his inaction, was here telling him to let it go, to not take responsibility. But how could he do that so easily?

“How did you do it? Sect Leader Jiang...” his voice cracked, “Can you ever forgive me, for the harm that my inaction caused you and your family?” Maybe if he heard it from her, maybe he could begin to forgive himself.

She sighed. “On my part, there is nothing to forgive Zewu-Jun. And so I can’t grant you forgiveness because you haven’t done me any wrong. But there are a few people who do deserve an apology from you. And your seclusion is a self-imposed punishment that you feel you deserve but at the end of the day, it does not actually do anything tangible when it comes to making amends to those who have been hurt.”

He was silent for a moment, stunned by her words. He hadn’t considered that his seclusion might have been causing others even more harm than he’d already done to them. Sect Leader Jiang was wise (she would disagree...she’d just learned from bitter experience in her opinion). He felt like he’d done her a great disservice all of these years, by not making an effort to reach out to her.

“Please, tell me. I.. I confess I no longer trust my judgement. I thought I knew A-Yao. I thought I was a good judge of character. I no longer know how to tell what is up from down. All I know is that I was so, so wrong about A-Yao. If you say that I have not harmed you then I am glad. I would hate to be the cause of more pain. You said that I am not responsible for A-Yao’s actions, and though it isn’t easy to believe that just yet, if there are those who I have truly wronged then please...please tell me. I still don’t know if I am ready to leave seclusion, if I even know how to, but I need to atone for my actions.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, “That’s the right attitude at least. So to start with I’d say you need to have a chat with Huaisang.”

His eyes widened, “I… I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Sect Leader Jiang.” His face darkened slightly. He wasn’t pleased with Huaisang at the moment. It felt like he never even knew him.

“And why not? Out of everyone, it’s Huaisang that you unintentionally hurt. And I don’t mean because of not listening to Nie Mingjue. His death was not your fault.” He was about to protest but she cut him off. “It wasn’t. I told you, stop taking responsibility for what isn’t your fault and own up to what is.”

He sighed heavily, “If it’s not about Da-ge then how did I wrong Huaisang?”

“Well for one, you’re still his Er-ge. Yet you seem to have forgotten that in lieu of what happened in the temple. Huaisang… has lost everyone. He may have been acting like a shady shit for the past however many years but… do you know what it’s like to be the last one of your family, Zewu-Jun? To have nobody beside you except subordinates?” He inhaled sharply. “I.. I hadn’t thought of that,” he said mournfully. How much did he just not consider? What kind of a person was he that he resented Huaisang for his deceit but yet did not consider for one moment that Huaisang may have done those things because he thought he was all alone and could not come to him for help? What kind of brother was he that his little brother could not confide in him? He should have been there for Huaisang, instead he had thought so highly of Jin Guangyao, even dismissing da-ge’s claims, that Huaisang had not dared to approach him with his suspicions.

Sect Leader Jiang was being very understanding however, “Zewu-Jun, I know you’re not pleased with Huaisang. I know there are many things that he’s done that are not right. I know there’s a possibility that he lied and forced your hand at the end. Believe me, I know the feeling...more than anyone, I know what it feels like to be deceived by someone you love...to kill someone you love. I know what it feels like when everyone praises you for it. Like you did such a great thing and you should be happy and celebrating with everyone else, except you can’t because your heart has shattered…has been ripped to shreds.

As someone who once loved a so-called monster...as someone who as good as killed that person with their own hands, I understand better than anyone what you’re going through. What Huaisang did was cruel, even though I’m glad Jin Guangyao is dead. It was cruel to have you be the one to end him. Huaisang likely knew that Jin Guangyao valued you. He knew it would be the worst end for him to be killed by your hand. I can’t speak for Huaisang, but I don’t believe he did it to hurt you, even though that’s inevitably what happened anyway. He did it to hurt Jin Guangyao. But even though it was not kind of him to have you be the arbiter of justice, he still deserves to have his Er-ge in his life.

She paused remembering the pain of losing her husband and sister all in one night.

She didn't have to imagine how Huaisang would have felt at losing the last member of his family at the hands of someone he cared about.“You and I aren’t the only ones who were deceived by someone we loved. Huaisang loved Jin Guangyao too, didn’t he? He loved and trusted him. When Nie Mingjue was getting worse, didn’t Huaisang trust and rely on both you and Jin Guangyao? It wasn’t a front. You were both dear to him. He loved him. He loved him and was betrayed by him in the worst way. And then yes, he orchestrated a whole convoluted plan to have him exposed and killed.

But you and I can both attest that justice, and even revenge, doesn’t stop the pain does it? Huaisang avenged his brother, but he lost another in the process, the same way you did. Don’t let him lose you too. You said you wronged Nie Mingjue by not listening to him. I think you’d wrong him even more if you left his little brother alone, without anyone to call family. You don’t have to forgive Huaisang right away, or at all if you don’t want to, but eventually you should at least try and reconcile with him. You’re his big brother... the only one left. And you know, Huaisang would have had the realisation that he was fooled by Jin Guangyao all on his own. But you don’t have to be alone.

Huaisang and you share the experience of being blinded by him. It would be much easier to talk to someone who has gone through the same things, no? Huaisang is there. And I am here. You don’t have to endure this on your own. We may not be very close Zewu-Jun, but we can understand each other, not so? So I’m here if you need someone to confide in. And Huaisang...Huaisang must be waiting too. For his Er-ge. You both owe each other apologies.”

By the time she was done speaking there were tears rolling down his face. She didn’t think it was quite appropriate given their positions, (though she was sort of his secret sister-in-law so really, he counted as family) but she moved over to his side and embraced him. If he was surprised he didn’t show it, only moving to cling to her more tightly and sob with a ferocity that had her a bit surprised. She wondered if this was the first time since the temple that he’d allowed himself to fully grieve what he had lost, without the guilt of letting his sworn brother die, killing the other one, and feeling bad for mourning for someone who he should hate.

Everyone praised him for killing Jin Guangyao however, it was something he didn’t want to be praised for. But what could he say? That he hated the fact that he killed him? He was right about one thing, if he ever said something like that people would most assuredly say he was complicit and probably want to implicate him. Jiang Cheng of all people knew how hard it was to listen to people praising you for a deed you were not proud of. And so she was the only person who would understand. The only person who would, who could, acknowledge the hurt it would have caused him to do what he did, especially if he was tricked into it.

His feelings about Huaisang would be complicated, but it wasn’t too late to reconcile as long as they were both alive.

She rubbed his back consolingly and just let him cry. It must have been no more than 15 minutes, but it felt much longer, before his tears slowed. When his sobs petered out he tried to compose himself. She let go of him and he embarrassedly turned away, sipping his tea. He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry Sect Leader Jiang, that was unbecoming of me.”

“Don’t mention it,” she waved off. She was there to help after all.

“I will give your words due consideration. It was remiss of me to forget that I was not the only one affected by A-Yao’s schemes. I truly regret not thinking of how Huaisang would have felt when he first found out. You are right. I have done my little brother a disservice,” he said, voice croaky from his bout of sobbing.

“You said that there were people I needed to apologise to. Who else have I wronged?” he continued. His respect and admiration for Sect Leader Jiang had grown exponentially since the start of this visit. He would take her words under advisement if he could.

“Oh Zewu-Jun,” she sighed, “What you’re doing with this seclusion, doesn’t it remind you of someone? Because it sure reminds your uncle.”

Zewu-Jun looked as if she had slapped him.

“Nobody would begrudge you needing time to grieve and to come to terms with what happened, it is human nature. It’s understandable. We were all blindsided. And I understand the wish to seclude yourself because I wish I could have as well, though I didn’t have the luxury,” she said, not unkindly but it made him wince anyway, “But it’s been too long. A few months would be okay, though grief will last longer than that, but more than that is just being unfair to others. You are the Sect Leader. Your uncle has already had to watch his brother shirk his duties and seclude himself from the world for the rest of his life.

Your uncle has had to pick up the slack. He raised you and your brother like a father would, while taking care of sect matters. None of those things were his responsibility yet he did it. And now… now he has to go through it all over again. Master Lan is elderly though and he cannot keep up with all of the duties required of an elder, teacher and now Sect Leader once more. And so that leads me to the last person that you have wronged.

Lan Zhan is Chief Cultivator now, did you know? His duties are myriad and yet he has to come back here and help Master Lan run the sect. It pains Master Lan to see history repeating itself. A younger brother once again has to take the reins from his older brother and he does it without complaint, because he loves you. But it is unfair to A-Zhan. He can’t live his own life because he’s too busy living yours. He’s barely managing to keep up with both sets of duties, but he’s doing it for you. It has been two years, Zewu-Jun. He worries so much about you, as does your uncle. It pains them to see you this way. And so Sect Leader Lan,” she pointedly used his rank, “I beg of you to consider leaving your seclusion. You have people who love you waiting for you. Your family needs you.”

His eyes were glittering once more, but no tears were shed this time. He swallowed thickly. The past few months it had seemed as if he was living in a fog. He’d barely managed to keep his routine up, it was only through decades of strict routine that he’d gotten himself off the bed and eaten his food and meditated everyday on his shortcomings. But it seemed that while he was doing that he’d missed quite a few. Because she was right wasn’t she? He hid himself away like a coward and didn’t even think about how it would affect Wangji and Uncle. He hadn’t even considered how hurt his uncle would feel to see him go down the same route as his father.

Her words were like a splash of cold water. It seemed to wake him up; it got him out of the daze he was in. If this woman before him could raise a child and a sect from the ashes all alone after going through more tragedy than a hundred people in one lifetime would...he could get himself in gear and do what he had to do. He felt ashamed in front of her. She was right that she didn’t have the luxury to seclude herself. But he did. He did, and he took advantage of the support system that he had to take time for himself. More time than he should have.

She said it was understandable, and maybe it was, but she was also right that it should not have been going on for this long. He had no desire to be Qingheng-Jun the second. But if she hadn’t come here today… if she hadn’t said all that she had said… He would not have even thought of those things. He was too busy thinking of himself. It was likely that he would have stayed for years in his seclusion, just ruminating on what went wrong and what he could have changed. It was all too easy to get caught up in could-have-beens.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, devastated at the thought of his uncle, the man who raised him when he didn’t have to, who did his best to prevent them from turning out like their father, thinking that he had failed when it was Lan Xichen who failed, “I’ve heard you loud and clear. But…”

“But?”

“But I don’t know if I even know how to go about being Sect Leader anymore. I feel like the decisions I make would be questionable now. How can I trust that I will do what’s best for the sect? I have already failed in so many ways. Now I have failed Wangji and Uncle too.”

“What did I tell you? You’re not alone Zewu-Jun. You don’t have to leave seclusion immediately. You don’t even have to start doing everything right away. Ease back into it. Your family will be there to help you. I’m offering to help you. If you need to talk about things that you can’t with them, you can write to me. Master Qiren should not have to be taking on these responsibilities any longer and A-Zhan needs to have time to breathe...his own position is challenging enough. Besides you haven’t failed, you’ve just had some setbacks is all. Failure would be wallowing in self-pity forever and leaving everyone else to do your duties indefinitely,” she looked at him pointedly. He got the hint.

“Okay Sect Leader Jiang. I shall take you up on that then. But I do have a question if you’ll indulge me,” he said.

“Shoot.”

“I mean no offense at all, in fact I’m actually extremely grateful for your concern, but I am curious….why do you even care? You didn’t have to do any of this. I’m well aware that you have your own duties and worries. Why bother about mine?”

She smiled for the first time since she walked into the Hanshi. He was struck by it. It had been a long time since he’d seen her smile... truly smile. In fact, the last time he’d seen a smile as bright as that on her face was probably right here in the Cloud Recesses when she was a student.

“You may not remember it, Zewu-Jun, but there was a time Jin Guangshan sought to marry me off. It was your words of support for me, against that awful Sect Leader Yao, that saved my skin, though they still called me Wife of the Yiling Demon after that. But at least I was only his wife. I will be eternally grateful to you for that. It was thanks to your words that nobody else tried to make me marry. I was able to focus on my sect in relative peace. It was a kindness that I have never been able to repay until now, though you shouldn’t think that it is only because of repayment.”

She got up and dusted off her clothes perfunctorily.

“I shall take my leave now, Zewu-Jun.”

“Please, call me Xichen,” he said, thinking that after all of the things that were said that day, she might as well.

“Well then, Xichen you may call me Wanyin. Thank you for hearing me out and please forgive me for barging in unexpectedly. I have intruded upon your hospitality long enough.”

“It is no matter,” he said, and for the first time in a long while he was able to manage a weak smile, “I was honored by your company. If you did not give me so much to think about, I would offer you some more tea.”

She laughed, “Thank you Xichen, but I will be missed soon anyway. I do not need to cause an uproar in Cloud Recesses if they can’t find a Sect Leader. Plus the scandal that would happen if someone other than A-Zhan or A-Yuan finds me in here will not be pleasant.”

“A-Zhan?” he raised an eyebrow, “Is there something I should know about, Wanyin?”

She snorted and threw him a cheeky smirk, “If you want to find out you’ll have to come to Lotus Pier.” And with that she saw herself out, leaving nothing but the scent of lotuses behind her.

Huh. Well then. How curious. He’d thought that Wangji had gone off with Wei Wuxian, who he’d been in love with since he met him. How did Sect Leader Jiang factor into this? As far as he knew they didn’t even particularly like each other. It seemed like he missed quite a lot while he was in seclusion. Was his little brother in a love triangle? It would explain why Wanyin said that he shouldn’t only think of her visit as repayment to him. It wasn’t the purest motivation but huh maybe he would leave seclusion after all. His brother might need support in more ways than one. Sect Leader Lan leaving seclusion because he was too invested in his brother’s love life was a hilarious thought, and for the first time in two years, he chuckled mirthfully to himself. Maybe he would be okay after all.

[eirian-houpe]

Cactus

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan

Additional Tags: Fluff, Flirting, Courtship, a monthly Rumbelling July 2020, A Monthly Rumbelling (Once Upon a Time)

Series: Part 2 of The Language of Flowers

Summary: Belle and Gold continue their courtship with poetry and flowers and as their relationship grows, Rumple sends Belle a very important gift

Read on AO3

Cactus

Although they had officially been dating for three weeks, he didn’t stop the practice that had brought them together.

He already had some flowers, which he’d pressed prior to their daily arrangement of walking together at dusk, as well as taking afternoon tea on Sundays, just to break up the monotony of the weeks that never seemed to change in Storybrooke. However, he wanted something different now they knew each other a little better; something special.

He began to spend some of the free time he had between customers who came in to the pawn shop, for the repair of mechanical, clockwork trinkets and other assorted trivia, on the Internet. At first his Google searches frustrated him, as he always seemed to put in the wrong search parameters, and got back ridiculous answers such as how to wash a dog he didn’t have, with vinegar and baking soda. He wondered how on earth Google thought this was an appropriate answer when the words he’d typed in were, ‘Flower Lore.’ It was one of the reasons he hated the Internet with a passion reserved previously for such people as the mayor, the proprietor of the Rabbit Hole, and of course, Belle’s no good father. He persevered, however, - as he had done with the three aforementioned individuals - and soon the Internet yielded the results for which he had been hoping, a knowledgeable and consistent web and blog site that focused on flowers, their meanings in folklore, and uses in common-day herbalism and home remedies.

It was for these reason he got into the habit of driving to the nearest town to Storybrooke to visit a rather well stocked nursery and florist establishment. He was becoming a regular, and it suited him well enough that the proprietor knew that he was only looking for the best plants and blooms. Only the best for his Belle.

**

Belle French frowned, a very confused frown, as she stood in the library doorway, looking down at the plant as if it were the oddest thing in the world. She crouched down and very carefully fingered the edges of the soft tissue paper in which the plant was wrapped. Then she looked up and along the street to where she could see the familiar figure of Mister Gold limping along towards his shop.

She couldn’t count the number of stares they’d received from the many people who had seen them out walking together in the evenings, or who happened to be in Granny’s diner when they called in for their tea on Sundays. So many of them were the looks of astonishment at best, and mortification, at worst, and it hurt her heart to think that the people of Storybrooke still reviled Mister R Gold, while she, Belle French, was quickly coming to like him… a lot.

In fact, if pressed while she was working on another of the collages she made of Gold’s offerings, the ones she framed and put around the library apartment to, ‘brighten the place up’ as she would tell you at first, she might just let you in on the secret yearnings that were beginning to stir in both her heart and her body for Storybrooke’s most hated man, and then fix you with a deadly stare that dared you to comment on her taste in romantic partners.

So, she picked up the plant, and carefully carried it inside the library where she unwrapped the blue and white ceramic pot in which it was planted - her favorite kind of housing for living plants that she received, although seldom - and set the cactus, for such was her gift - on the circulation desk for all to see, and until she could decide how in the name of everything holy she was going to get a cutting and dry it to be used in one of her pictures.

It was a gift after all, and she wanted to use it, in spite of the thorns.

**

Through the long, cold day I long for the warmth of your protection against wintry nights.

This time she had slipped the beautifully handwritten note inside the upper left pocket of the vest he wore beneath the suit jacket. Even after their weeks of walking together she still wrote to him, finding hiding places on his person, or in unexpected places around his shop where no one but he would find them. Once, she even managed to slip one into his wallet - and he still hadn’t worked out how on earth she’d been able to achieve such a feat. Not that he wouldn’t have given his wallet to her if she’d ask.

He had found the note when he opened it up at the garage where he had the Cadillac serviced, and his oil changed. He pulled out the cash to pay Michael, the proprietor, and found the note nestled there between the bills. He stood for many long moments just staring at the piece of paper and the words she had written on it. Taking in nothing else for long enough that Michael called his name and asked if everything were okay.

It was. It was unexpected, but more than welcome.

With a smile, when he reached his shop, he walked into the back room where beautiful rainbow dahlia were carefully tucked into a large dome of soaked, green oasis to keep them fresh for the evening, when he could give them to Belle in a small basket he had picked out as perfect for the occasion. He thought the blooms reflected the elegance and dignity that she displayed as they walked around Storybrooke together with her on his arm.

How could she be so patient with others?

Having seen some of the looks she had endured, some of the stares over the last three weeks, it was a wonder to him that he had not simply broken from her gentle hold, taken his cane, and smashed them to within inches of their lives. How dare they look at her in such a way. Still, she would always seem to know when his temper was about to get the better of him, and would tighten her hand around his arm, and give him the kind of smile that made him forget everything around him, and focus only on her.

**

Belle carefully teased the cactus leaf apart and set it to press between two of the heaviest books in her apartment, which she had brought up from the library. That complete, she dipped her pen into the light green ink in the bottle on her desk. She had decided to order some different colored inks to add another dimension to the pictures she made from the flowers that Mister Gold still gave to her, perhaps even more frequently now that they were courting.

She paused, letting the end of the pen come to rest against her lip as she considered the words she had used in the latest of their pictures; a gift that she was preparing for Mister Gold for the approaching holiday. She had a bubbling excitement in her wait for it, for him to see it, and for him to be able to see that her feelings were true.

Hours spent by candle, before the firelight’s glow as the march of time carries us toward full night.

With a smile she set down her pen, and turned the paper to rest it carefully against the blotter, careful not to smudge the lettering while it was still wet, and making certain that - by the time she was ready - the faint aroma of the rose-scented oils she had sprayed upon the paper lingered, completing her poetic missive, and encouragement for more.  Spying the time, she reached for her coat and put the note carefully into her pocket, ready to slip it, unobserved onto Gold’s person as they walked.

True, it was a game she played with him, another way of more openly flirting with him than simply with flowers and poetry, but it was still unknown to the rest of Storybrooke, who looked at her with such unkind, judgmental eyes. Expressions she would, with a steady gaze, return to assure them that she was not ashamed of her growing feelings for Mister Gold, nor would they make her so, with their impolite reception.

Closing the door behind her, she made the short walk back down to the library, from where, her heart full of happiness and a smile lighting her face, she would be collected for her evening walk.

**

After the third of her short, poetic notes that week, Gold finally reached for the courage, at least in his own company, to consider taking their relationship further, but in another crisis of confidence, which always seemed to trigger when he considered how he might progress nearer to his desire for he and Belle.

The Thursday morning saw him staring seriously into his coffee cup in a booth at the middle of the diner, further back from his usual place.

“Did something go wrong?” David asked, still a little too loudly in public, and not for the first time Gold winced and wondered what had made him choose David for his confidante. Still he pulled out the carefully folded, much cherished piece of vellum.

As quietly as all the other times, he slid the folded note across the table between the two of them seated at the table.

“Is this the problem?” David asked again, as Gold seemed reluctant to release the sheet of paper. “She told you something that upset you in a note?

“I’m not upset,” he said, shaking his head, “and again, please keep your voice down. This is a most private matter.”  David raised an eyebrow and gave a soft apology, and Gold doubted that the other man would ever guess the content of the note. He leaned forward in his seat and quietly, confidentially, explained what he could of the growing affections between he and Belle.

David sat back in his seat, a smile on his face as Gold finished his tale. “Well, that’s good news,” he said. “Isn’t it? Why don’t you just ask her. Now… tonight, I mean, on your walk.”

“Please,” Gold said, “It’s most impropitious. Besides, why should I have reason to believe that she shares my growing feelings in any way?”

“Talking to her?” David questioned, and Gold finally lifted his hand from the latest of the notes he had received, this time in the front pocket of his jacket, found after last night’s walk. He watched as David pulled the note toward him and opened it, saw the way his eyebrows shot up as he read. Gold knew the words already, by heart, and even thinking them made it clench and send its always birdlike flutter down into his groin.

And in that night, with you beside me, shall I call your name as you know me.

“Wow,” David said, looking up from the note. “And you doubt she shares your feelings how exactly?”

“Because,” he began, surrendering to a moment of almost painful honesty, “Even after weeks of courting, and walking in public, longing to take things further - when it comes to it, I fear that what I have to offer her is far less then the gift that she can give… and not as much as she deserves.

David regarded him without words for the longest time, meeting his eyes and holding him in place with only his gaze until, uncomfortable, he began to fidget.

“I think you need to let Belle be the judge of that.”

**

Belle wiped off the last of the dust from the circulation desk and a soft sigh escaped her. She had hoped, as before, that Mister Gold might call in to suggest a different course than simply their evening walk, that he might have understood, and for a moment she felt such fierce disappointment that her eyes became hot with unshed tears.

Had her poetic notes been too unclear? Had the cactus been a symbol of his irritation with her in some way?

She looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten, and there were no patrons in the library, so as was her desire, she locked up, heade upstairs, and prepared to drown her disappointment in a bucket of tea, and as much foundation as would hide the evidence of her sorrow. It was not at all her usual way, but she just felt… cowed and lonely.

His soft voice began the moment she left the stacks to head back to the desk, rolling like a wave of warmth across the space between them as she came to a sudden halt, her heart beating so quickly it was like unto one continuous drum-roll.

“Safe and warm within my arms,” he purred, “bearing the rose of my kiss.”

He approached her slowly, and it was only then that she noticed that he had turned out all but one of the lights in the library’s lobby, and that he reached for her with an un-gloved hand, his fingertips barely brushing against her skin.

“So that I need not speak, only be the echo of my heart for thee”

She blushed as she leaned toward him, into the soft touch of his fingers on her cheek, and looked up at him with a moonlit ocean for eyes that met the caramel warmth of his.

“Rumple,” she greeted him softly, a little breathless.

“May I?” he asked quietly, passing the tender brush of his thumb against her lips.

Blushing more fiercely, she nodded once, and then stilled, even holding her breath as he leaned closer yet, brushing his mouth softly to hers.

“Belle,” she breathed as he withdrew his touch.

She watched as he retrieved his cane from where he always left it, and then tipped her head in query as he offered her his arm.

“Would you care to share a nightcap with me, at my home?” he asked.

She smiled, and slipped her hand onto his arm.

“I should like that very much,” she said.

[missmouse94]

🌷IT'S REFORMATION MONTH 🌷

Most Christians have heard the names of John Calvin, Martin Luther, John Knox, and other giants of the Protestant Reformation in Europe. But there are many other lesser known men and women who worked to advance the cause of the Reformation!

Women also played an important role, either in disseminating the ideas of the Reformation, or using their political power to protect the preachers and teachers of these ideas, and, yes, some were burned at the stake.

Here is one of these women:

Joyce Lewis (Jocasta Lewis) died in 1557 as an English Protestant martyr, burned alive at the stake for refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

She first married Sir George Appleby of Appleby in Leicestershire and they had two sons. Her husband died in 1547 at the Battle of Pinkie. She then married Thomas Lewis of Mancetteron 10 September 1547.

In the beginning of Queen Mary's time Joyce was a Catholic and went to the church and heard mass as others did, but when she heard of the burning of that most godly and learned martyr, Laurence Saunders, who suffered in Coventry, she began to question her faith and take more heed to the matter, and inquired earnestly, of such as she knew feared God, the cause of his death. And when she perceived it was because he refused to receive the mass, she began to be troubled in conscience, and waxed very unquiet.

Her move to being a Protestant was led by the brother of another martyr, Robert Glover, who died the same year. Now John Glover, perceiving both her unquiet mind and also the desire she had to know the truth, did most diligently instruct her in the ways of the Lord, approving unto her, out of God's holy word, that the mass, with all other papistical inventions, was odious in God's sight; and besides this, reproved her, for that she delighted in the vanities of this world so much. By the which godly counsel given by him, it happened that she began to wax weary of the world, thoroughly sorrowful for her sins, being inflamed with the love of God, desirous to serve him according to his word, purposing also to flee from those things the which did displease the Lord her God. And because she had learned the mass to be evil and abominable, she began to hate it. And when at a time she was compelled by the furiousness of her husband to come to the church, at the same time when the holy water was cast, she turned her back towards it, and showed herself to be displeased with their blasphemous holy water, injurious to the blood of Christ. Whereupon she was accused before the bishop for the despising of their sacramentals. Her previous devotion to Catholicism was replaced by "irreverent behaviour in church" which came to the notice of Ralph Baines, the Bishop of Lichfield.

Immediately a citation was sent for her to appear before the bishop. But she stoutly told the bishop, that by refusing of the holy water, she had neither offended God, nor any part of his laws. At the which words the bishop being grievously offended, yet because she was a gentlewoman, he gave her one month's respite, binding her husband in a hundred pounds, to bring her again unto him at the month's end: and so they were both let go. When they came to their own house, the said Mistress Joyce Lewes gave herself to most diligent prayer, and invocating of the name of God.

When the month was now almost expired, and the time at hand that she should be brought before the said bishop, her husband being advised by the said Master John Glover and others not to carry her to the bishop, but to seek some ways to save her, or, if the worst should come, to be content to forfeit so much money, rather than to cast his own wife into the fire; he answered, he would not lose or forfeit any thing for her sake. And so, like a murderer of his own wife, he carried her to the bloody bishop, where she was examined, and when she was found even more stout than she was before, death was threatened and she was sent to prison. Being thus kept in prison, and oftentimes examined, and ever found stout, at the length she was brought in judgment, and pronounced a heretic worthy to be burned.

When the bishop reasoned with her, why she could not come to the mass, and receive the sacraments and sacramentals of the holy church: she answered, "Because I find not these things in God's word, which you so urge and magnify as things most needful for men's salvation. If these things were in the same word of God commanded, I would with all my heart receive, esteem, and believe them."

The bishop answered, "If thou wilt believe no more than is in the Scripture, concerning matters of religion, thou art in a damnable case." At which words she was wonderfully amazed, and being moved by the Spirit of God, told the bishop that his words were ungodly and wicked.

After her condemnation, she continued in prison for a year. All that time she was in prison, her behaviour was such both in words and deeds, that all they that had any spark of godliness or civil honesty, were greatly saddened that she should be put to death.

Now when the time did draw near which God had appointed for her deliverance, she said, "As for death, I do not greatly fear. When I behold the amiable countenance of Christ, my dear Saviour, the uglisome face of death doth not greatly trouble me."

In the evening, before the day of her suffering, two of the priests of the close of Lichfield came to the under-sheriff's house where she lay, and sent word to her by the sheriff, that they were there to hear her confession: for they would be sorry if she should die without. She sent them word again, she had made her confession to Christ her Saviour, at whose hands she was sure to have forgiveness of her sins. As concerning the cause for the which she should die, she had no cause to confess that, but rather to give unto God most humble praise, that he did make her worthy to suffer death for his word: and as concerning that absolution that they were able to give unto her, being authorized by the pope, she did defy the same, even from the bottom of her heart. When the priests heard this they said to the sheriff, "Well, tomorrow her stoutness will be proved and tried: for although perhaps she hath now some friends that whisper encouragement in her ears, tomorrow we will see who dare be so hardy as to come near her." And so they went their ways with anger, that their confession and absolution were refused.

All that night she was wonderfully cheerful and merry, with a certain gravity, insomuch that the majesty of the Spirit of God did manifestly appear in her, who did expel the fear of death out of her heart; spending the time in prayer, reading, and talking with those that came to her, to comfort her with the word of God.

About eight o'clock in the morning, Master Sheriff came to her into her chamber, saying these words, "Mistress Lewes, I come to bring you tidings of the queen's pleasure, that you shall live no longer than one hour in this world: therefore prepare yourself."

After which she said, "Master Sheriff, your message is welcome to me, and I thank my God, that he has made me worthy." And thus Master Sheriff departed. And within the space of one hour he came again.

Now when she was brought through the town, a great multitude of people being present, she, being led by two of her friends, (which were Master Michael Reniger, and Master Augustine Bernher), she was brought to the place of execution. And after she had prayed several times, in the which prayer she desired God would most instantly abolish the idolatrous mass, and to deliver this realm from papistry. At the end of her prayers, most of the people cried, 'Amen.' Even the sheriff that stood by her, ready to cast her in the fire for refusing the mass, at this, with the rest of the people, said, 'Amen' when she had thus prayed.

Then she took a cup of water into her hands, saying, "I drink to all them that unfeignedly love the gospel of Jesus Christ, and wish for the abolishment of papistry." When she had drunk, they that were her friends drank also. After that a great number, especially the women of that town, did drink with her; which afterward were put to open penance in the church by the cruel papists, for drinking with her.

When she was tied to the stake with a chain, she showed such a cheerfulness that it passed man's reason, being so well coloured in her face, and being so patient, that the most part of them that had honest hearts did lament, and even with tears bewail the tyranny of the papists. When the fire was set upon her, she neither struggled nor stirred, but only lifted up her hands towards heaven, being dead very speedily: for the under-sheriff at the request of her friends had provided such stuff, by the which she was suddenly despatched out of this miserable world.

Joyce Lewis was burned at the stake at Lichfield on December 18, 1557. Her "crime" that was worthy of death? For refusing to take part in the Catholic Mass and calling it unbiblical.

This among other things may not be forgotten, that the papists had appointed some to rail upon her openly, and to revile her, both as she went to the place of execution, and also when she was at the stake. Among others there was an old priest, which had a pair of writing-tables, to note both the names of the women that drank of her cup, (as before you heard,) and also described her friends by their apparel, for presently he could not learn their names, and afterwards inquired for their names. And so, immediately after, process was sent out for them, both to Coventry and other places. But God, whose providence sleeps not, did defend them from the hands of these cruel tyrants. Unto which God, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be honour and glory forever.

A memorial to Joyce Lewis and Robert Glover was placed in Mancetter Church in 1833.

It is a broad fact that during the four last years of Queen Mary’s reign, no less than 288 people were burned at the stake for their adhesion to the Protestant faith.

In 1555, 71 were burned

In 1556, 89 were burned

In 1557, 88 were burned

In 1558, 40 were burned

Five martyrs were burnt in Canterbury only a week before her death.

Of all the stupid and suicidal mistakes that the Romish Church ever made, none was greater than the mistake of burning the Reformers. It cemented the work of the reformation and made Englishman Protestants by the thousands. When plain Englishman saw the church of Rome so cruelly wicked and Protestants so brave, they ceased to doubt on which side was the truth. Joyce Lewis is a good example of this. She began questioning Catholicism when the martyr Laurence Saunders was burned at the stake.

May the memory of our martyred Reformers never be forgotten until the Lord comes!

[Source: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Lewis

http://www.exclassics.com/foxe/foxe368.htm]

[tobashiarg-blog-archive]

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 6

Boom bitches! Guess who’s fucking back! Thank you all for your endless support and patients because that is truly the thing that motivates me to write this. The fact that you all are having fun and enjoying my story brings me so much joy! Once again, thank you to the brilliant @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil for creating this au, go show give them all the love in the world! Now please, ENJOY!!!

(TRIGGER WARNING: minor assault/harassment ((don’t worry it’s stopped before it happens)), homophobic slurs ((the f word)), and mild homophobia)

Master Post

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It was bound to be awkward for a while but this was just getting ridiculous. Ever since Virgil had stepped into Roman’s apartment, they hadn’t said a single word to each other, merely keeping to themselves and doing their half of the work. It wasn’t like Roman didn’t WANT to talk to Virgil it was just…him and Virgil had this really tense…relationship? No, not like that! Like in that way where you have no idea if you’re friends or not. Roman didn’t want to say something that might sound rude or be interpreted the wrong way and set Virgil off. It wasn’t like her was TRYING to be rude it’s just he kind of liked pushing Virgil’s buttons and he knew for a fact Virgil liked pushing his, they just had no idea where a line should be drawn. Unlike with him and Logan where it was a clash of ego vs ego, with Virgil it was like this sort of game.

“So…” Virgil said suddenly, causing Roman to jump a bit in surprise “…where are you in your part of the essay?”

Roman looked down at his notes before looking to scan his laptop at the Word document he had open, “Just about finished, about two or three more paragraphs. Then I’ll go over and edit out all the grammatical and spelling mistakes.”

“Cool,” Virgil nodded awkwardly “I’m about the same.”

“Cool.” Roman echoed.

Silence filled the room, even more awkward then before.

“Are you a witch?” Jenni asked. The boy turned to find the twins still hiding behind the couch, though it was less hiding and more hanging off the back of it.

“Excuse me?” Virgil asked, confused.

Roman wanted to scream but he didn’t, so instead he let the twins continue to embarrass him. For some reason lately Jenni has been really obsessed with witches, maybe it had to do with that girl, Scarlet Witch, that keeps showing up with the Avengers. She wasn’t as “scary” as the Black Widow so it was only natural for Jenni to gravitate towards her as an idol. Jenni repeated her question, “Are you a witch?”

“Of course, he’s not, dummy!” Marco snorted “He’s a boy! Only girls can be witches!”

“Harry Potter was a witch!” Jenni countered, getting up in Marco’s face.

“Nah-uh, he was a wizard, stupid!” Marco replied, just as stubborn.

“Roman, Marco called me a bad word!” Jenni screeched, pointing an accusing finger at her twin.

“Marco, that’s not very nice, apologize now,” Roman said firmly and just before his little brother could protest, he added “Or else I’m gunna tell mom.”

Marco grumbled a halfhearted apology before quickly returning to their current conversation topic, “So, are you a wizard?”

“Witch!” Jenni corrected.

Virgil chuckled behind his palm, seemingly amused by the commotion of everything. That was good, at least Roman thought so, Virgil was at least laughing and not running for the door. “Uh, I don’t know about wizard, the term is mainly used in European fairy tales mostly. Witches or witchcraft has been around for a much longer time and has many branches and history behind it while wizard is mostly in works of fiction.”

“So, you are a witch?” Jenni said excitedly with a smug side eye look towards her twin.

“Um, I don’t think witch is the politically correct term,” Virgil chuckled and Roman couldn’t help but join him “more then likely I’d be a Shaman or a Wu, a Chinese shaman, but I have absolutely no clue about either of those practices, so…no, sorry.”

Jenni pouted and Roman gasped in mock scandal, “Virgil! How could you crush my little sister’s dreams like that!”

“Hey, what did you want me to say?” Virgil snapped, though he was still smiling “I wasn’t going to lie to her!”

“Wait, there are other types of witches?” Marco pipped up curiously.

“Uh, yeah, kind of,” Virgil shrugged “it’s really more of a craft then a term; witchcraft, magick, shamanism, voodoo, hoodoo, and a lot of others. It varies from country to country but sometimes share certain elements with each other, be it religion or method of practice.”

“Geez, are you sure you’re not a witch?” Roman teased, reaching over to poke Virgil’s cheek.

Virgil rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure?”

“Then how come you know all this stuff?” Roman chuckled.

“Cause it’s interesting,” Virgil replied somewhat defensively “not everyone is obsessed with Disney and musicals.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Roman said, putting his hands up in mock surrender “just that it’s not something people usual find interest in and that’s fine too.”

Virgil huffed, fiddling with the edge of his ever-present beanie, “Yeah, whatever.”

“I think it’s cool!” Jenni pipped up, cheerily.

“Me too!” Marco added just as enthusiastically “Roman’s just lame!”

“Hey.” Roman pouted and received the annoying sound of raspberries as payment from his younger brother. Virgil was laughing again, tension gone from his shoulders once more as he ran a hand under his beanie and through his hair. The flimsy hat slipped off the emo’s head and reviled something truly horrifying. The twins stopped their antics to openly stare and Roman’s eyes got wide in shock.

“What?” Virgil asked, obviously starting to freak out over everyone’s sudden silence and staring.

“Uh,” Roman cleared his throat nervously, carefully choosing his words “I want to preface this by saying I’m NOT trying to be rude or a jerk but…what happened to your hair?”

Finally realizing he was no longer wearing his beanie Virgil freaked, cheeks turning pink as he quickly flipped his hoodie over his head and pulled the strings tight. “N-nothing…”

“Well, it don’t seem like nothing,” Roman responded, waving his arm dramatically before pausing to think “…Is this like a medical thing? Because if it is I’m really-”

“No, n-no, no,” Virgil cut in “it’s just…I-I, um…m-my hand got, uh…stuck.”

Roman nodded slowly before realizing Virgil probably couldn’t see him at the moment, “Okay, and when was this?”

“When we found out, uh…” Virgil paused a moment, most likely thinking up a way to explain what happened without exposing themselves to Jenni and Marco who were still in the room, “…when we formed the club, in the morning, I had an…accident.”

“I see,” Roman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration “your telling me you had that monstrosity hidden under that tasteless beanie for three whole days? And you didn’t think to, I don’t know, ask your parents to help you fix it or have them take you to a barber?”

“Honestly,” Virgil sighed, sliding down under the coffee table enough so that he could rest his chin on it “I kind of forgot, to busy still freaking out over…the club, then I remembered, then I got embarrassed, then I just decided not to say anything so…yeah.”

How this boy was still alive and functioning in this world Roman will probably never know but that wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was that he let that hideous abomination atop of Virgil’s head enter his house (er, apartment) and Roman would not stand for it. Taking a breath Roman turned to the twins, “Jenni get the clipper bag, Marco get my brushes.”

“Okay.” They replied before scampering off to do as they were told.

“What’s happening?” Virgil asked, eyes wide with worry.

Roman stood up and stretched, “I’m going to fix that absolute sin you call hair. Come and sit in the kitchen, easier to clean the floor.”

Virgil scooted somewhat back, glaring at Roman pointedly, “Uh, thanks but no thanks. I rather not make it worse then what it is.”

Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes, “You’ll be fine Sweeny Toad, my mother used to be a hair dresser so I picked up a few things. Now come on,” He moved a seat from the dining table to the center of the kitchen “sit.”

Jenni and Marco soon returned with the clipper bag and brushes and sat back on the stools behind the counter as if waiting for a show to start. Virgil was still curled up like a feral cat and all that was left was for him to start hissing. Roman rolled his eyes once more, having dealt with bratty children (Read: the twins) before who didn’t want to sit still for their hair cut.

“Trust me,” Roman said “I cut and manage the twins’ hair all the time, you’ll be fine. If there is one thing I know NOT to mess with it’s hair.”

Virgil continued to glare at him and Roman sighed in response, “Come on, it can’t get any worse then what it is now. And if it does,” He raised the scissors in his hands and snipped the air “I’ll let you take a stab at me a payback. What do you say?”

Slowly Virgil uncurls from himself, sliding out from under the coffee table and standing to face them. Roman raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and Virgil raised one back in response, “If you f…mess up my hair I will shave your head off.”

“Fine,” Roman shrugged, not at all startled by the threat “but you’re gunna have to sit in the chair so I can start.”

Virgil glared at him for a few more moments before his shoulders sagged in defeat and he dragged his feet towards the kitchen. Crossing his arms, the emo plopped down in the chair where Roman quickly pulled down his hoodie and grimaced. “Oh, you poor thing, why do you hate your hair so much?”

“Just get it over with.” Virgil grumbled and that was all the consent Roman needed to start trimming.

---

The planetarium was huge, a large dome like ceiling with rows of seats spiraling inwards. The Quinn and Foster brothers took a seat near the center row with Patton and Logan sitting next to each other between everyone. Morgan gave Logan a sly smile and Logan was half tempted to elbow him again if he wasn’t worried about causing his brother possible internal damage from being hit twice at half force by a super human spider. He instead opted to punch his brother’s shoulder as lightly as he could possibly manage though it seemed not to be light enough for Morgan.

“Why must you hurt me?” Morgan whined, rubbing his sore shoulder.

“So, have you ever been to a planetarium show before?” Patton whispered, leaning in close to Logan.

“Uh, yes,” Logan replied, all to grateful for the dim room that covered his burning cheeks “but I have not seen this particular showing. I’ve been to others, much smaller but still just as captivating. Though when it comes to the vast wonders of space even the smallest shows can be an enjoyable experience.”

Patton smiled at him, still just as bright in the dim lighting, “I didn’t know you loved space so much.”

“I, uh,” Logan cleared his throat “I enjoy the subject of it, yes, it’s quite a fascinating topic.”

“If you like it so much then why don’t you join the astronomy club?” Patton asked curiously “One of my friends from culinary club, Valerie, is president of it, I’m sure they’d love a new member. They don’t get a lot of funding from the school because obviously,” Patton scoffed bitterly before perking up again “so they have to do a lot of fundraisers and I sometimes help out. But other than that, I heard it’s a lot of fun, currently they’re raising money to go to the John F. Kennedy Space Center in Florida.”

Logan felt giddy with excitement but he was quick to compose himself, “Uh, that sounds lovely Patton, but I fear that I am far too busy with my studies and other after school activities as it is to even consider joining.”

Patton pouted, much too adorable for his own good and Logan had half a mind to take back everything he said. “Oh, that’s too bad. But hey, if you ever just want to pop in and say hello, I’m sure they’d be delighted to talk to you. I’ll let Valerie know.”

“Thank you, Patton, I appreciate it,” Logan smiled shyly, the lights began to dim even more and a voice from the speakers announce that the program would begin momentarily. He felt Patton tense slightly beside him and instinctively placed his hand over Patton’s closed fist which rested on the arm rest between them. “Don’t worry, the shows about to begin.”

“Mmh.” Patton hummed and he relaxed as they laid back in their seats and watched as the projection of space illuminate the darkness, never once letting go of each other’s hands.

“Way out here, ten million light years from planet Earth, every point of light is a galaxy containing billions of stars…”

Logan gulped thickly as he felt Patton’s hand shift just a bit, splaying out his fingers so that they could gently intertwine with Logan’s. He continued to look up at the ceiling where the universe twinkled and shined before him, a kaleidoscope of technicolor and wonder. The deep charming voice of Neil deGrasse Tyson took them into a journey through the cosmos, exploring the vast reaches of space that now felt so close. But even with the mesmerizing display of stars in front of him Logan could do nothing but revile in the warmth of Patton’s hold. The warm and smooth caress of his delicate finger tips and the pumping pulse beneath his skin that let Logan know that he was alive and full of warmth and sweetness.

“We’re flying through a three-dimensional atlas of millions of galaxies. The gaps are regions we have yet to map. Beyond every galaxy we could ever observe, farthest away in space and furthest back in time, the cosmic background radiation marks the visible edge of our observable universe…”

He chanced a quick peek towards him, just something to settle his nerves and let him know that this was all real. Just as expected Patton was mesmerized by the vast array of stars swirling around and recreating their galaxy. Balls of gas and matter burned together to create planets within and out of their solar system, flashing burst of white and purple and blue and red and yellow. They filled the room with endless color and highlighted the tiny freckles across Patton’s skin which seemed to stand out like the all to familiar stars in the sky.

“The motions of galaxies within each cluster confirm the presence of dark matter. The galaxies orbit too fast to be held together by the gravity of normal matter alone. Remove the dark matter… its lensing stops … and the cluster flies apart.”

“Have you ever been so terrified yet so amazed by something all at the same time?” Patton wondered aloud, voice soft and in awe, still gazing up at their exploding universe.

Logan’s eyes never looked away from him, “Yes, I have.”

“As this time-lapse view of the Milky Way shows, stars explode fairly often—at a rate of about two per century in a galaxy like ours. So, if you observe enough galaxies, you can spot a new supernova every few nights…”

Logan was absolutely in awe with everything about Patton, from his terrible puns to the certain tenderness he kept in his heart. He always saw the best in the world but he was realistic about it all too, but even then, he showed kindness to even the most god-awful people. He was smart and brave in ways people often over looked as being a naïve boy with dumb luck. Patton was far from perfect but he was still incredibly amazing as well as terrifying. He made Logan feel things, many things, he didn’t ever think possible. Sometimes it was too much, sometimes it was not enough, other times it was airy and light but it could also be heavy and make him want to throw up. Logan had been sure he’d get over this infatuation with Patton quickly then return to his life as if it were normal again. But of course, that didn’t happen.

“Clearly there’s more to the universe than meets the eye. The Big Bang happened long ago but not far away. It happened here, there, and everywhere. Peering into the dark, we stand on the threshold of great discoveries—and we always will, as long as we keep exploring.”

The roar of applause and florescent lights softly piercing the darkness quickly snapped Logan out of his daze. The warmth of Patton’s hand slipped out from under him as he too joined the audience in their up roar and all Logan could do was copy numbly. This was all very draining and headache inducing, way too many emotions for one day. All Logan wanted to do was go home and sleep.

“That was so cool!” Patton squealed, excitedly jumping up and down “I always thought this kind of stuff would be boring or too hard for me to understand but it was really fascinating. No wonder you like space so much!”

“Yes, well,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses “the wonders of space are vast and endless so there is much to learn.”

“And yet, we’ve only explored 5% of the ocean,” Alex pipped up as he scanned over a pamphlet “I mean not that this isn’t amazing and all but isn’t it a bit concerning that we barely know anything about what covers most of our planet yet know so much about what’s outside it?”

“If it’s oceanic life you’re looking for they have an environmental exhibit here on display,” Morgan said, checking over their own map “right across from us after the American mammals.”

“Oh, you can read this map?” Alex said, turning over his pamphlet every which way “Thank god because I have no idea what I’m doing. I honestly got lost earlier and met that cute front desk lady by mistake.”

“I want to see the birds,” Georgie announced lowly.

“Ah, that’s on the second floor next to the African culture hall,” Morgan said helpfully “anything else?”

Logan sighed tiredly as Alex jumped at the opportunity, “Yeah, yeah, we should go see that, uh, dinosaur exhibit, I wanted to see that t-rex mother fucker.”

“That’s on the third floor,” Morgan said as he flipped through the map “right next to-”

“Guys,” Patton gently interrupted “they probably have their own plans for the evening. We don’t need to force them to be tour guides for us, we can find our own way around.”

“Aw, come on Pat,” Alex whined “we already got them here, might as well take advantage of those big brains of theirs. Could use a bit of relaxing from solving all the worlds problems by taking us shmucks on a tour. They already know how to use a map!”

Another quick smack across the head from Georgie had him shutting up, “Patton’s right, we should leave them alone.”

“Well, I don’t really mind,” Morgan admitted and Logan was now fully considering throwing caution to the wind and elbowing him again “what about you Lo?”

Just when Logan was about to shut down the idea and demand to go home Patton spoke up, big brown eyes on full display. Oh no. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Lo. I’m sure we can find our way around no problem.”

“He lies!” Alex stage whispered, receiving another smack from Georgie.

Honestly, how was Logan going to ever say no to those eyes? Swallowing thickly Logan quietly murmured, “Is…there a particular exhibit you’re interested in, Patton?”

Patton’s smile was shy yet still beautiful and radiant, “Are you sure?”

Logan could only nod, much to afraid of his own voice.

“I…I would actually like to look at some of the environmental exhibits,” Patton admitted bashfully “anything with plants and flowers really.”

“That be right next to the oceanic exhibit,” Morgan announced “we can look through everything here on the first floor if you want before heading on up?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Alex exclaimed as he marched forward “Onwards troops!”

Georgie and Morgan trailed close behind with Logan in the back with Patton who rolled his eyes before shrugging and smiling tiredly, “I’m sorry in advance for whatever he does.”

“As am I with my own brother.” Logan chuckled as they made their way out of the planetarium, side by side and close enough that their swinging hands casually brushed against each other every once and a while.

---

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Thomas asked worriedly. As promised MJ had given Thomas a drink with the works on the house before leading him towards a table near the back where MJ then proceeded to sit down with him. MJ untied his apron and threw it behind his seat before untucking his shirt and ruffling his already messy red hair. They danced like flames of ember and framed his freckled face perfectly.

“Uh, I don’t think there’s much work to do,” MJ chuckled, gesturing to the nearly empty coffee shop “unless you have somewhere important to me and want me to get out of your hair.”

“N-no, no,” Thomas stuttered “not for a while at least but I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’ll be fine,” MJ smirked, chin in hand as he leaned forward “I want to get to know my unconventional savior a bit more.”

Thomas was sure he’d permanently gone red, was flirting just how this guy spoke all the time? Thomas’s heart was not prepared for such onslaught of complements, “I’m not much to know.”

“There’s always much to know,” MJ laughed “especially with two strangers. But that’s usually easy because we’re both blank canvasses to each other so we just got to start painting.”

Thomas hesitated for a moment, “Do you work here often?”

Nice going loser…

MJ laughed again, beautiful and bell like, “Just temporary for the moment, I’m studying to be a nurse actually.”

“Oh, really,” Thomas said, actually kind of surprised that a guy who constantly puts himself in harms way would become someone that stiches up those kind of people “do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” MJ shrugged “it’s hard work but I like helping people. Plus, I don’t need to worry about going to the hospital every time I get into a scrap, I’ll be able to mend myself.”

Thomas huffed out an airy laugh, “I think you should be avoiding fight, you know?”

“Oh, I do,” MJ assured with a smirk “it’s just they can’t seem to avoid me. But lady luck must be on my side because she practically granted me a guardian angel. Well, guardian…spider? I don’t really know honestly.”

Thomas willed his cheeks to not flush more crimson as he asked, “Why do you think that?”

“You’re not gunna believe this but,” MJ rubbed the back of his neck nervously “I’ve kind of been saved by Rainbow Weaver a bit too many times. Poor guy, I must make his job a living hell if he has to keep dealing with me twice a week.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” Thomas said, casually sipping his drink “I mean, he is a hero so it’s his job to look out for people. I’m sure you’re fine and not a bother at all.”

MJ raised a suspicious eyebrow before smiling wide, “And how would you know that? Have you met him or something?”

“Maybe once or…twice,” Thomas fibbed “he’s a pretty chill dude so I assume he wouldn’t mind much.”

“Really?” MJ chuckled then took a deep sigh “Still, I really do tend to get into a lot of trouble.”

Yeah, no shit! Thomas added in his brain but smiled sympathetically on the outside, “I kind of get what you mean, I…admittingly, have a tendency to run into danger myself sometimes.”

“I can see that,” MJ teased “Mr. I-can-disarm-a-gun-single-handedly!”

He smiled sheepishly, hiding behind the rim of his coffee cup, “To be honest, a friend of mine showed me that move so I really can’t take all the credit.”

MJ pouted, cute and dramatic, “Are you denying my praise and admiration? How dare you, sir! I gave you free coffee and I only ever do that to big shot heroes!” A sly wink followed soon after “And good looking guys, both help, really.”

Thomas choked on his coffee, pounding his chest to bring back air into his lungs. Meanwhile, MJ giggled in delight at the sight of Thomas is misery and embarrassment, although he did lean forward to pat Thomas’s back. Once semi functioning MJ giggled again, leaning down to meet Thomas at eye level and the greying man had to control himself so that he wouldn’t go into another coughing fit. Steel blue eyes sparkled in amusement, “A bit too much?”

Thomas cleared his throat, “Maybe a little…sorry, I’ve, uh, never been…well, I haven’t been…”

“Flirted with?” MJ finished with a giggle “I find that very hard to believe.”

Thomas shrugged, “I-I mean, at least not with a really cute guy that apparently need to get saved twice a week.”

Now it was MJ’s turn to blush, freckles on full display like little constellations in the night sky. A goofy smile spreading across the red head’s face as he bit his bottom lip, “Maybe I need somebody to watch my back. Rainbow Weaver can’t be there all the time.”

“What makes you think I’m even qualified for the job?” Thomas asked with a shy shrug.

“Because you’re sweet,” MJ smiled “and you were willing to risk your life for a stranger.”

“I mean, I did get free coffee out of it,” Thomas smirked causing MJ to snort “plus, we’re hardly strangers, I know your name now and you know mine. And I also know that you’re studying to be a nurse! I’m pretty sure a stranger wouldn’t know that.”

“No, he wouldn’t, you’re right we’re practically lifelong friends,” MJ laughed, turning back to his apron at the back of his seat and digging through the pockets. He pulled out a black sharpie and took Thomas’s coffee cup to scribble over. “So, with that being established I think it is appropriate now for you…to have my number? And maybe…I could have yours?”

Thomas could only squeak out a wheezing, “Sure.”

---

“There, all done.” Roman put down the scissors on the counter and unwrapped the plastic wrap from around Virgil’s body. He dusted it off and proceeded to fold it as he circled around Virgil with a critical eye.

Virgil was been tense the entire time Roman was cutting his hair, he didn’t want to move even a centimeter for the fear Roman may actually fuck up. Jenni and Marco kept up casual conversation to keep him distracted, continuing to ask him about witches and what he knew about them. The were nice kids, definitely had Roman’s big personality, but still very sweet plus, they knew how to get under Roman’s skin and Virgil respected that. Then it was over and all of Virgil’s previous worries came flooding back all at once.

“How bad did you mess it up?” Virgil asked worriedly.

Roman scoffed, handing him a hand mirror before going off to sweep the kitchen, “Honestly, have a little more confidence in me.”

Virgil tentatively peered into the mirror to see what irreversible horrors awaited him. To his surprise it was actually a really nice cut, the left side was cut short in a smooth gradient sort of way while the right side was left longer and framed itself around his eye. It was a bit messy but Virgil guessed it was supposed to be that way, keeping to his aesthetic and all, but overall, he actually really liked it.

Virgil looked back up to give Roman his thanks and apologize for ripping on him earlier but froze to find that Roman was staring at him and frowning. Jesus, was he really that upset about Virgil not believing he could cut hair? “Uh, I actually kind of dig it so don’t worry about-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that you like it,” Roman waved him off, leaning up against the counter as he continued to glare at him “I am amazing after all. It’s just now that I look at you I’m kind of pissed.”

“I’m sorry.” Virgil apologized, though for what he didn’t know.

“I like his hair cut!” Marco announced.

“Me too!” Jenni added “He looks cute!”

Virgil flushed red and Roman finally burst, “That’s the problem! I was honestly vouching for him to look at least semi-decent but he actually pulls off this look!”

“W-what?” Virgil squeaked.

What was happening? What was going on? Roman was complementing him but was also pissed at him. That is a very weird combination of emotions to be had as well as to receive.

“You look cute,” Roman stated plainly and narrowed his eyes “and I hate you because of it.”

“Why?” Virgil was starting to get a bit frustrated because he’s pretty sure all the blood in his body has redirected itself to his face. Also, what the hell was Roman’s deal?

“Because you’re an emo nightmare and you’re not supposed to be cute!” Roman replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, excuse me!” Virgil snapped.

“No, you shall not be excused because how dare you!” Roman exclaimed dramatically “How dare you have the audacity to be cute so flawlessly while the rest of us have to work for it every day!”

Virgil groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration, “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things really.” The twins said at the same time and if Virgil weren’t so thoroughly frustrated at the moment, he might have thought it was creepy.

“Zip it, Fred and George!” Roman snarked and was responded with two sets of loud raspberries.

Virgil ran a hand through his newly cut hair and sighed deeply, “Look, thank for the haircut, sorry you hate it, I’m gunna leave now.”

He began to make his way towards the living room but Roman was quick to catch his arm, “Wait, we aren’t finished with our essay.”

“It’s good enough,” Virgil snapped, taking his arm back “plus, I don’t very much want to sit here and be insulted for my hair, which by the way you cut.”

“I don’t hate your hair Virgil,” Roman replied with a laugh “I’m saying that you’re cute and that I’m frustrated about it because you put zero effort into it. Meanwhile, yours truly has to moisturize every night, put product in my hair, and still do my make-up to at least look decent for the day!”

Virgil glared at Roman, he had no idea what to make of this boy. One minute he’s insulting him then he’s complementing him, he’s nice then he’s a jerk and the cycle continues. Virgil doesn’t get him or how he functions! Roman was so frustrating and flipped flopped emotions so quick Virgil’s head was dizzy. Contrary to popular beliefs Virgil was just as bad at social cues as Logan was so he had no clue how to tell when Roman was joking or not!

Finally, Virgil said, “That’s stupid!”

“Ooo, you said a bad word!” The twins cried.

“Silence demons!” Virgil snarked and the little monsters straight up hissed at him “Like I was saying, that’s stupid! Why the hell are you even worried about that? I’m not even…I’m not…”

Virgil couldn’t even finish the statement it was so ridiculous. He wasn’t cute damn it! Roman was just being weird and dramatic like always! He just wanted to see Virgil flustered and embarrassed, well, that’s not going to happen! Virgil refused to be made a fool of again!

“You’re cute! Admit it!” Roman smirked, because he’s a stubborn jerk who won’t admit he’s wrong.

“I am not!” Virgil groaned, arms crossed and no, he was not pouting! “You’re just an idiot!”

“You’re basically a tiny kitten,” Roman snickered “at first glance people might mistake you for this great big jungle cat-”

“Because it’s true!” Virgil stomped.

“But really you’re just an adorable little kitty cat.” Roman laughed, easily dodging Virgil’s attempt to punch him. Virgil then proceeded to chase Roman around the apartment while the theatrical teen laughed and continued to dodge his attacks. All the while the twins chanted, “Virgil is a kitty! Virgil is a kitty!”

“I am not!”

---

Overall, Patton was glad Logan and his brother was able to say with them a bit longer, they were pretty great tour guides, Logan especially though maybe Patton was a bit biased. Morgan mainly hung around Georgie and Alex, answering all their questions and helping defuse Alex’s plans on climbing up on one of the dinosaur’s displays. Meanwhile, Logan and Patton were practically left to their own devices, which Patton was perfectly fine with, Logan knew a lot of neat stuff and provided insightful in formation on every exhibit. It would have been perfect if Alex didn’t keep giving him suggestive winks plus and enthusiastic thumbs up though Patton is about 85% sure he saw Morgan do the same thing earlier.

He flushed red at the thought of it, was his crush on Logan really that obvious? Did they see him and Logan holding hands during the planetarium show? Patton was going to let go, he swears, it’s just Logan’s hand felt so nice and warm immensely calming Patton’s nerves when everything suddenly got dark. So, he just kind of left it there, Logan didn’t seem to notice or at least Patton thinks he didn’t. Patton was focusing too hard on watching the show and acting as casual as possible.

It was dark in there so Patton didn’t worry about anyone seeing his flushed face but that was now not the case for the rest of the museum. Thankfully, Logan was too enraptured by all the museum’s exhibits to fully pay attention to Patton’s constantly blushing face. Patton had to repress a dreamy sigh threatening to escape him as he watched Logan ramble on and on about animals from the Cretaceous period, he really did look best when talking about the things he was passionate about.

Okay, so like maybe, this all kind of, sort of looked like a date? If you could count a date involving your two older brothers and your crush is brother babbling in front of them as he and Logan trail behind. It was like a very chaperoned date…in Patton’s head at least. It was silly to think off it like that, he knew, but the whole atmosphere of the evening left Patton feeling all fluttery and excited. Even if it wasn’t just the two of them Patton still felt this sort of intimacy between them and, maybe, the sense that Logan might like him back.

Patton didn’t know how much control he had over these empathetic powers of his, Joan and Talyn had turned them off after that whole experiment thing, saying how they were supposed to grow and come in naturally. But aside from that when he and Logan were holding hands during the planetarium show Patton swore he felt tiny slivers of something warm and familiar. Little sparks of pleasure he knew he felt before every time their hands brush. But he really couldn’t be sure so Patton continued to smile and accidently bump against Logan’s shoulder as they walked through the entire museum and into the gift shop.

As usually the elder brothers left the youngers to their own devices more then likely to stop Alex from flirting with the cashier lady. There were many interesting educational toys and items such as candy rock making kits, puzzles, fossil digging cubes, layered mineral rocks, arrow heads and an assortment of other items. Of course, Patton went straight towards the large bins filled with plushies, with Logan not far behind.

“Why is there a monkey in a space suit?” Patton asked, picking up the soft plush toy from one of the large square bins.

“Before sending human up into space they sent animals,” Logan explained “mainly monkeys and apes since they closely resemble our genealogy.”

There were lots of other plushies in the bin such as dinosaurs, birds, and other animals as well as plants, rocks, ships, and planets with cute little faces on them. Patton grabbed a tiny smiling blue ball with specks of white and brought it up to eye level. “I’m guessing this little guy is Pluto, I’m surprise that he’s even here.”

“Well, some people still consider it a planet,” Logan said in a sort of adorably huffy manner before bashfully shrugging “or maybe it’s left over from previous stock long ago.”

Patton giggled, “And where do you stand on the Pluto debate?”

Logan adjusted his glasses critically, “Calling it a dwarf planet is just saying it’s a planet but smaller then average. It has its own moon as well as the other necessities to be a planet but just because of its size it is diminished to dwarf planet.”

“Wow, you have a lot to say on the matter,” Patton smirked delighted by the endearing flush that painted Logan’s cheeks. He reached to pick up another plushie, this one a robot of sorts, “What’s this?”

“That’s the Opportunity rover,” Logan pipped up quickly “Oppy, as some people have nicked named her, she was sent to scan and observe the surface of Mars. She was accompanied by her twin Sprit but he unfortunately got stuck in a sand trap and has cease function. She was only supposed to function for 90 days but excided that by 14 years and 46 days.” Logan frowned a bit, a glimmer of sadness in his eye before he quickly shook it off, “Soon, after in 2012 they sent the Curiosity rover and as of now it is the only one still active out of the three of them.”

“Aw, does that mean he’s up there all by himself now?” Patton said mournfully, holding the little robotic plushie close to his chest.

“Unfortunately, so,” Logan responded blankly “but even so, we will surely have Curiosity functioning for a number of years more. So, we’ll still have plenty of more time to explore the surface of Mars before we inevitably launch there ourselves.”

“But he’ll still be all alone for years and years,” Patton pouted “that can’t be a pleasant experience even for a robot. Just being all on your own on a seemingly lifeless planet with nobody there to talk to you or comfort you when your sad.”

Logan gave a half smirk, amusement glittering in his eyes, “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he can still communicate back and forth with mission control here on Earth. So, it’s kind of like always having someone on call with a one-way video face time.”

“That is a little better,” Patton hummed thoughtfully “but still, the thought of being completely alone in the vastness of space…kind of freaks me out.”

“Well, thankfully you’re not alone,” Logan said warmly, his smirk now stretching into a shy yet honest smile “you’re here on Earth with very many people who care about you.”

Patton flushed pink but smiled back none the less, “Yeah, I guess so.”

They all finished making their purchases before making their way towards the exit. The crowed had thinned out immensely as evening dwindled into night and what people remained were slowly but surely making their way out. Once again the elders tailed up front talking away while Logan and Patton lingered behind discussing the concept of human awareness and if one day robots will be able to gain this awareness.

“Like, I’m not saying a robot uprising in the sense that they’ll enslave and kill us,” Patton explained, hands gesturing wildly “but something similar to protests and political campaigns that fought for equal rights. If they’re beings of intellect then they’ll know that violence will get them nowhere and hurt their cause more then help it.”

“Wow, you have a lot to say on the matter.” Logan teased.

Patton shrugged shyly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just…think sci-fi has demonized the why humans will react to other species coming into contact with us. I mean, we aren’t complete monsters and usually the species we’ll ‘supposedly’ interact with aren’t either.”

“Hmm, you do have a point,” Logan nodded “though honestly if they do end up attacking us, I’m pretty sure we deserved it one way or another.”

Patton snorted, “Probably.”

It happened quickly, a buzzing at the back of his head and a burst of color flashing over his eyes. A voice in his head told him to hold down the back of his skirt and side step forward quickly, so that’s just what he did. When Patton turned around to look, he saw a man on his knees with his arm twisted around behind him by a very furious looking Logan.

“Fuck, let go!” The man wheezed out, another man nearby jogged towards them “Jesus, man lay off!”

Logan payed no mind to what they said, only looked to the man on his knees as he seemed to put more pressure on his arm and lowly asked, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I didn’t do nothing!” The man whined, trying and failing to get out of Logan’s solid hold “Get off me you freak!”

“Fuck off dude!” The man’s friend replied, taking half a step forward before freezing under Logan’s glare. “Clearly, he is lying. Because from what I gathered by the precarious position I caught him in was that he was about to pull up my friend’s skirt.”

“I said I didn’t do anything!” The man cried.

“No, but you were going to.” Logan growled, seeming to increase the pressure on the man’s arm.

Patton heard a commotion behind him and turned to find his brothers and Morgan racing back towards them with a security guard hot on their tale. They seemed to be trying to out run the security man and were quick to circle around them as if to block out anymore preying eyes.

“Logan, let him go!” Morgan whispered harshly and, almost reluctantly, Logan complied, the man dropping to the floor clutching his arm. The man’s friend rushed to help him to his feet while Logan still stood by, arms crossed and glaring daggers.

“What the hell is going on?” Georgie demanded.

“That’s what I would like to know.” The security guard pipped up from behind them. Immediately, the man points an accusing finger at Logan, “Officer, this man physically assaulted me!”

“Falsehood!” Logan snapped.

“You were going to pull up my skirt!” Patton shrieked, finally able to find his voice again. He was not going to get Logan in trouble again on his behalf.

“I didn’t fucking do anything, you stupid fag!” The man snapped.

“The fuck did you say!” Alex growled, surging forward to grab the man by the front of his shirt. Had he not Patton was sure Logan and Georgie were close to do so as well.

Patton felt a pit in his stomach, everything was turning into chaos all because of him, again. Why couldn’t he say anything? Why couldn’t he do anything? Why did he have to be such a big baby and cause trouble? How ironic for someone training to be a hero to always get put into situations like this yet isn’t able to save himself. How pathetic.

“Hey, hey, settle!” The security guard commanded, quickly getting in between both men “Now, what I see here is we got two options. One: someone can fess up and give me the real story or two: we can check the security camera, it wouldn’t take too long.”

At the mention of cameras, the two men paled and Logan smirked, the security guard looked tired and seemed to want to be anywhere but here. “If what the young man said was true then you two were the ones committing assault and this other young man here was merely acting in self-defense for his companion.”

“He almost broke my arm!” The main fiend complained.

“I didn’t even do anything!” The other barked, pointing a few feet away “I was standing over there!”

“You were more than likely an accomplice and bared witness to the crime without bothering to interfere,” Morgan quipped, speaking up after his long time silent observation, a calculated look in his eyes “I’ll bet if we look at the camera footage we’ll be able to see you two conspiring together to humiliate my friend like some god damn children before playing rock, paper, scissors or double dog daring one another to go do it. Am I hitting the ball park here? And while I’m at it I’ve been looking through your guys is records and this isn’t your first offence.”

Stepping forward like some sort of professional high security secretary, Morgan pulled up his phone for all to see. There, side by side, were photos of the two men along with their names, contacts, and crimes they’ve been charged for. Patton was pretty sure the two men were nearing the process of passing out their faces were so pale, while Morgan seemed to mimic Logan’s smirk.

“Drunken violence, public indecency, property damage on multiple charges, as well as, surprise, surprise, physical and sexual assault,” Morgan listed off as he continued to scroll through his phone “My, my, you boys have been busy. Now with all of these charges in mind please, pray tell, what were you two thinking when you decided to pull up an under-age boy’s skirt in a high security museum? Or are you that stupid?”

They spat and sputtered but to no avail, not only was one of them caught red handed they had the odds stacked against them. Morgan provided no form of mercy, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, not to worry the police should be here any-” The front entrance was open and four officers came running in “Oh, there they are.”

The men tried in vain to run but the police were able to easily tackle them down while the security guard ushered them all to the side, more then likely waiting to be questioned. Patton felt a bit numb, not really sure if what happened was real or not, there was a lot of energy and emotions in the air and it all gave him a headache. Warm fingers tangled between his and Patton was suddenly brought back to the ground and looking into Logan’s dark eyes.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked, brow frowned in worry.

Patton nodded slowly, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Dude, how were you able to do that? With like the phone and the records and the police and stuff?” Alex exclaimed gesturing to the men being led away in cuffs. Morgan winked mischievously, “Ah, a true computer genius hacker never gives away his secrets…er, phone computer genius hacker? Uh, basically a long story short I did a thing that I will explain to you later because it is, ahem, semi-illegal.”

They all side eyed the security guard who merely shook his head and shrugged. Another officer came by a few minutes later relieving the poor security guard of his duties so as to ask questions. They were all pretty standard: what happened? Why did it happen? Do you want to press charges? Everybody jumped to say yes but honestly Patton didn’t want to deal with anything anymore, he just wanted to go home. Morgan, ever the mystery man genius, said he would willingly handle all the legal stuff so that Patton didn’t have to do anything but sign a few papers, saying how he had a friend who he graduated with who works in the criminal justice system. Usually, Patton didn’t like to bother people and he was trying this whole new thing about fighting for himself but he really, really did not want to deal with complex legal stuff. He also did not want to stress out his family more then they probably already were going to be then he needed too. So, he and his brothers graciously accepted his help.

“You know young man,” The officer said in that adult tone of voice used to scold children “maybe you shouldn’t be wearing a skirt out in public? Would give you an easier time and call much less attention to yourself.”

Okay, so Patton has moved on from tired and pitiful to kind of pissed off, “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” The officer said gently, as if it would make this situation any better “if you were to wear more proper clothes, you’d have less trouble and this situation probably would not have happened.”

He felt Logan’s fingers curl tightly against his, body tensed and ready to jump to Patton’s defense and rescue one more. But Patton was getting really tired of having to be rescued all the time, not that he didn’t appreciated it especially from Logan, but her was getting quite fed up with everything right about now.

“Well, it shouldn’t have happened at all!” Patton said firmly, not really shouting but voice still loud and clear “Regardless of how I dress or how anyone dresses nobody should ever be treated like this! Instead of telling me how I should dress ‘properly’ maybe you should start doing your job and telling people it’s not okay to harass someone just because they’re different or dress a certain way or act a certain way or whatever?”

The officer frowned disapprovingly, like a teacher towards a failing student, but he was no teacher he was an idiot. “Sir, I’m merely suggesting a-”

“I don’t want your suggestions!” Patton snapped “I want to live my life just like everybody else in the world without being bullied or harassed or called names or being shamed just because I’m alive!”

Stunned silence filled the room and Patton just knew that all eyes were on him, surprised and in awe that sweet little Patton would snap at an authority figure. It all would have been quite overwhelming for him if he didn’t have Logan’s fingers intertwined with his and his steady stream of fire and calmness filling his senses. A weird mix of feelings but useful in helping ground Patton and not have him blow up completely. He chanced a quick peek at Logan from the side of his eye and saw a wide and seemingly proud smile stretched across his face.

“I think we’re done here,” Georgie announced, leaving no room for argument “there seems to not be anymore questions you guys need so we’ll just leave.”

“We’ll be in contact, I assure you?” Morgan added as he ushered everyone towards the front exit.

“Our people will call your people.” Alex winked, throwing finger guns at the officer.

They quickly made it to the parking area where they exchanged pleasantries and goodnights before having to part. Georgie and Alex thanked Morgan and Logan immensely for their help, Morgan for handling all the legal stuff and calling the police and Logan for being there to stop the creep. Both Quinn brothers seemed to flush red at the complements and praise, assuring it wasn’t that big of a deal and that they were happy to help. But just before they could part ways Logan thrusted his gift bag towards Patton.

“I, um, thought you might like it,” Logan murmured, avoiding eye contact “I was going to give it to you earlier but, uh, that…happened.”

Patton smiled, happily accepting it before handing over his own gift bag to Logan, “I got you something too.”

“Oh, y-you didn’t – I mean, thank you.” Logan reached for the bag and Patton, once again, did something very bold. He firmly took Logan’s hand, pulled him forward, and gently kissed his cheek.

Patton was quick to pull back, face flushed pink but still smiling, “Thanks for saving me again, you seem to be having to do that a lot.”

Logan was silent for a moment, eyes wide and a careful hand placed over the cheek Patton just kissed. He quickly shook out of his daze, “I-it’s no problem…I’ll always be there if you need me. That is what friends do, correct?”

“Yeah,” Patton giggled “and I’ll be there if you ever need me too, okay?”

Logan nodded vigorously, “Affirmative.”

There was a car honk behind them and Alex is annoying voice yelling across the parking lot, “Come on lover boy, Ma want’s us home soon!”

There was an audible smack and a whiny “ow!” soon thereafter. Patton sighed and smiled apologetically towards Logan before dropping his hand and slowly walking backwards. “I gotta go, see you at school?”

“Uh, yeah, see you.” Logan replied, awkwardly waving his hand.

Patton couldn’t help but giggle and wave back before turning to rush towards the car. Alex booked it out of the parking lot, all the while teasing Patton about his little moment with Logan. But Patton wasn’t really paying attention, instead he was curiously looking inside the bag Logan gave him and found a robotic plushie. At first Patton had assumed it to be Oppy but the design was different so he looked at the tag attached to it and saw that it said Curiosity with a bit of scribbled handwriting at the bottom.

Surely, he will not feel as lonely now that he’s with you. -L.Q.

Patton bit down on his lip to hold back a squeal threatening to burst out of him as he hugged the little robot close to his heart.

---

Virgil left an hour before his mother and sister were due home and the twins whined the whole while not wanting him to leave. They had both latched on to Virgil’s legs and it took Roman an embarrassingly long time to pry them off, with Virgil teasing him the whole time. He left soon after and Roman sat the twins down and scolded them for their behavior, such actions might have been fine with Patton but Virgil was different, especially when it came to physical touch. Although, it didn’t seem like he had minded Roman told the twins if ever he came back that they should ask before engaging in any physical contact.

They seemed to understand well enough and that was all Roman needed before he was ushering them to take a shower and change for bed. Obviously, it didn’t go that easy without a bit of fighting so by the time his mother and sister got back home the twins were freshly bathed, wrestled into their pajamas, and Roman was currently combing his Jenni’s hair while Marco played with his cars.

“Como te fue? ¿Se comportaron los niños?” His mother asked, peeking into the room with Leslie right behind her. They looked tired, hair a mess and dark circles around their eyes.

“It went fine,” Roman replied, finishing Jenni’s hair and tying it off in a simple braid “the twins were fine and we were able to finish everything.”

“Aye, que bien.” She replied.

“Roman’s got a boyfriend!” Jenni announced loudly “And he’s totally a secret witch even though he says he isn’t! But I know!”

Roman squeaked as he pulled his little sister to his chest and clapped a hand over her mouth, “You shush! Time for bed!”

“¡Romano tiene novio! ¡Romano tiene novio!” Marco chanted as he began to jump up and down on his bed.

“Shut it, you little demon!” Roman growled, face aflame.

“Marco no jumping on the bed,” Leslie scolded before a sly smirk crossed her face “and Roman, why didn’t you tell us it was your boyfriend coming over? We could of sent the twins off to their friends how so you two could have some alone time.”

“It’s not like that at all!” Roman shrieked “W-we’re just friend who made a club together, that’s all!”

“Ay, pero Romano, ¿por qué no lo invitaste a cenar para que podemos conocerlo adecuadamente? Quiero asegurarme de que va a ser bueno para mi pequeño príncipe.” His mother giggled along with the rest of his family and Roman really wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

---

Thomas on a roof of a shop near a familiar alley way in full Rainbow Weaver gear. He had just finished making a full sweep around the city an hour ago and decided to take a quick brake before doing another one. He quietly observed the familiar little café across the street and the familiar red head wiping down the tables one last time.

Thomas had stayed to talk to MJ a while more before an influx of customers suddenly made there way in for a late after work coffee run. MJ now suddenly had plenty of work to do and Thomas suddenly remembered that he had a city to be patrolling. They reluctantly parted ways, Thomas sputtering like a fool while MJ was as charming and as cool as ever. He was lucky that he packed a bag with him and stuck his Rainbow Weaver gear onto a nearby building or else he’d have to be fumbling back home and explain to Joan and Talyn why he hadn’t been patrolling the city for two whole hours. He wasn’t ready for the teasing sure to come when they eventually find out that he had been distracted by a cute boy who worked in a coffee shop and that he saves twice a week.

Speaking of, said cute boy was walking out of the coffee shop now, smiling down at his phone as he typed away at something or another. Thomas suddenly felt his own phone vibrate in his pocket and he was quick to pull it out and see a new texts message.

MJ<3: i think i’ll take a different route home today ;-)

Thomas looked back up to watch and sure enough instead of crossing the street MJ turned right towards a much safer part of town. Thomas couldn’t help feel a bit bummed out that he wouldn’t be able to have another possible interaction with MJ again tonight but he was much more happy that MJ took his advice to a safer path home.

Thomas: Good choice! Get home safely :)

MJ<3: Sure thing tiger! <3

---

Virgil had stomped all the way home grumbling to himself. Stupid Roman and his demon siblings kept teasing him the whole time he was there, though admittingly it was kind of fun. Especially since the twins were always willing to turn head on their older brother real fast. They eventually finished the essay and just kind of spent the whole evening bickering and answering Jenni’s curious questions about witches until Virgil had to go back home. He was surprised when they both latched on to his legs and begged him not to leave but soon became amused as he watched Roman struggle to pull them off.

Despite Roman’s entire personality in general he was a good brother and a good person at heart. He just tends to rub people the wrong way (mainly Virgil) sometimes, he was loud and brash, and spoke before he thought. But he wasn’t out right awful, nor was he terrible to be around just very, very annoying. Virgil still didn’t know what to make of Roman and their weird teasing back and forth but he could for sure say that it was…good. For now, at least.

His parents questioned him about the hair cut as soon as he got home and he truthfully told them what happened, not wanting to lie to them if he didn’t have to. They really didn’t mind and actually liked the hair but told him that he really should call them next time and ask for permission before letting his friend cut his hair.

He quickly promised and tiredly slipped in to his room where he was greeted by an excited JD, as always. After feeding and placing fresh water in his tank Virgil kicked off his shoes and proceeded to flop into bed, fully prepared to just sleep. Then his phone pinged!

Idiot: u will now be happy to know that I have now changed ur contact name to Nyan Cat!

Nyan Cat: fuck you!

Idiot: mmh not now maybe later ;-P

Virgil cheeks flushed red, growling as he began to furiously type back a reply. He took back every nice thing he said about the moron, he was the worst!

---

Morgan and Logan of course had to inform their parents about the situation that happened on their evening out. They weren’t freaking out as much as the late time Logan got in trouble but they were still worried none the less. They scolded Logan for his rush into violence but also commended him for protecting his friend from danger. For some reason Morgan did not mention to them about his part in the whole fiasco but instead gave them a vague summery of what went down. He was kind of glad for that, not that Morgan didn’t deserve credit, because he really did work wonders today, but Logan did not want to go another round of compare and contrast between him and his brother.

Logan sluggishly made his way into his room, completely drained from the whole outing. From the walking to the socializing and large crowed of the museum Logan was both physically and mentally drained. But as he looked down at the gift bag still in his hand and the warmth that blossomed in his chest, he couldn’t help but think it wasn’t too bad. A few minor complications but overall the part before the incident and after were pretty great. His cheeks were warm as he ran a finger over the spot where Patton had kissed him and he couldn’t help but let out a dreamy sigh.

Curiosity finally got the better of him and Logan quickly reached into the bag and pulled out a familiar soft round ball, pale blue with white specks and a cute smiling face. He smiled to himself before noticing the neat loopy hand writing on the end of the tag.

Viva la Pluto! <3

Logan was sure that he had a big goofy smile spread across his face by now and was so glad that he was alone in his room. Though he was soon snapped out of his warm and fuzzy day dream by the ping and vibration of his phone. He quickly fished it out of his pocket honestly expecting it to Virgil ready to complain about the god-awful time he had over at Roman’s place but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was Patton.

Patton: the moon is smiling tonight! :)

Logan peeked out his window and sure enough was in its waxing crescent formation which edged near the bottom, looking like a giant smile in the night sky. Logan chuckled softly to himself as he quickly typed out a reply.

Lolo: So, it is.

Tags: (sorry if it doesn’t work, Tumblr is stupid)

@immortaldystopia @metaphoricalpluto2  @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @misunderstood-shadow @fairytailtwists @0callmevirge0 @blenderkit17 @galaxy-lilies-main @lumi-1 @paint-in-flames @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @superwholocked-for-life @generalfandomfabulousness  @oakskull@scarletnoiryt @softnic @asiagotea3890 @enteryourfandomhere @saltwithrandomfandoms @ninjago2020 @average-human @hecksupremeart @teepee-honesty @perfectly-precautiously-gay @a-weirdo-with-a-computer@itsashtronomy @khadij-al-kubra @maryjanewolf @icequeenoriginal  @ocs-and-chapters @lilyfond @palepanfandomtrash @always-in-a-fandom @boxofsushi @hellomusicalnerdhere

[dukeofriven]

Let Boys Love Girl Things

For a deeply depressed, angry, and vitriolic bisexual 20-something who stumbled out of a toxic 2-year intensive college program confused as fuck about his gender and hurting everyone around him, it is with no exaggeration that I say My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic’s low-key stakes, warmth, humour, kindness, and utter lack of cynical irony was my first step on the road not only to recovery but coming even sort of close to having an accord with my identity. So I quite frankly I am exhausted that I have spent nine years being judged on the behaviour of a fandom group from 4chan. Nine years ago there was a gross perpetuation of toxic masculinity where men were ridiculed en-masse for liking a “girl’s show,” a campaign of derision that only intensified as the worst elements of 4chan gave everyone the evidence they seemed to want to justify their snap-judgement that boys liking girls shows was fundamentally weird, gross, and worthy of censure. We like to clap ourselves on the back for how woke we are now. There’s no discourse that says it is “skeevy” that men enjoy She-Ra, and petulant MRAs on Reddit getting upset about the show’s new ‘feminist’ agenda is considered to be representative of nothing other than petulant MRAs on Reddit, not the She-Ra fandom as a whole. Steven Universe is triumphed everywhere as a victory for better masculinity - without anyone ever noting that Steven would love every single moment of My Little Pony: FiM. He’d cry at the wedding, and he’d weep at the destruction of the library, and he’d think the Storm King was an effective villain while Connie rolled her eyes and tried and failed to point-out the weak characterization. Steven would cheer and cry every time a villain was redeemed through the power of love and friendship. Because he’s Steven, and he loves schmaltz, and it’s okay for a boy to like schmaltz. If we truly believe that, as we say we do, it’s time let the habit of shaming boys who liked a cartoon show go. It’s been a decade. Yes: MLP: FiM had a disgusting contingent of its fandom. You know what other franchise has that problem? A little film series you might have heard of called Star Wars. A contingent of Star Wars fandom was so racist it drove actors of colour off of twitter because it piled hate upon them. It was so misogynistic that somebody out there recut the entirety of The Last Jedi so that men save the day and all the women get reduced to bit parts. And yet if I see a Star Wars avatar my first assumption generally isn’t “oh you like Star Wars, so you must therefore be a misogynistic racist.” Because statistically speaking, you aren’t - just like, statistically speaking, the men who liked My Little Pony weren’t 4chan users. Not that most people bothered to find that out, because - shockingly - the worst elements had loud voices and got all the press, and the standard we applied to them was so entrenched in patriarchy that none of us wanted to accept that men could like the girls show without it being some gross violation of the proper order. I’m tired of that. The show’s been on nine years - long enough that kids who grew up watching it are old enough to start entering “The Discourse Space,” and what kind of example do we want to set for them that a show that might have meant so much to them growing up is given a defacto label of deviancy? ”Adult males like this show about the little kiddie ponies - that’s so creepy.” There’s a point I want to make here that I think really needs to be said so I am going to make it large

My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is a show for children; it is not a show about children.

What do I mean by this? Adventure Time is the story of Finn, a 12-year-old. Steven Universe is a show about Steven Universe, a 12-year-old. Ok K.O. is a show about K.O. a 6-11 year-old. Avatar: The Last Airbender is about a group of kids aged 11-14. She-Ra is a show about Adora who is… 16-ish? 17? And so on.

MLP:FiM is a show about 20-somethings. It’s a show about a grad student, a small business owner, a baker, a farmer, an environmental technician, a… trust fund baby?*... and, later, a former dictator. Yes, there are some kid characters, but the primary cast are all young adults who’ve reached adulthood and found themselves having to learn over and over again all sorts of shit they really ought to have known by now but don’t. It is, in short, a story about Millennials: an entire generation who reached adulthood not knowing what that meant or how to cope. Every time you laugh at the characters and go “how do they not know this [obvious thing that is obvious to adults]” you do so while watching a children’s cartoon rather than paying your taxes because you’re still not sure how to do that properly and are just low-key freaking out about it and hoping the problem goes away on its own. I speak from experience. The list in endless: we might ridicule the ponies ignorance at social graces, but i’ve been on this hellsite long enough that I’m pretty sure most of you are social-anxious neurotics who cock-up just as often and just as spectacularly as any pony on the show.

I’ve grown up in-sync with these characters. I’ve seen them go from floundering at 20 to sorta getting their act together and coming to grips with adult life as they reach 30. I’ve seen them become successful, get new jobs, start new careers. There have been episodes about how to deal with parents who embarrass you, how to get your parents to understand that you’re an adult now and want to be treated that way. There str stories about how to handle deadbeat older brothers who won’t stop mooching off your emotional labour, and how to mourn parents who’ve died. There are also stories about the byzantine nature of school regulation. (If next season is all about Twilight Sparkle reforming the Equestrian tax code it will be entirely in keeping with the adult-life-trend the show has been on for a while.)

My point with all this is that the “liking the kid’s show” narrative is disingenuous in the way it frames fans as creepy. To get tu quoque about it all I could raise my hand and point at all you adults gushing about all these kid protagonists in your favourite cartoon shows and go “Isn’t that CREEPY and GROSS you DEVIANTS” and on and on and on.

But I won’t.

Because it was never really about that, was it? It’s never been about that.

It was, at first, about what it was and wasn’t okay for boys - for men - to like. As a kid who’d been mercilessly bullied for being even the tiniest bit effeminate, openly embracing the fact that I liked this show about the colourful cartoon ponies felt like painting a target on my back. As for the boys younger than me - the boys still in high school in 2010 and 2011 who openly embraced this show? Braver than any US marine. When this all started it was about policing what was ‘appropriate’ for boys - nobody gave the adult Transformers fandom the same kind of shit, I assure you. It was about patriarchy - and how unwilling we all were to let go of it, no matter how progressive we told ourselves we were. Just like any moral panic, it developed a far more disturbing tone of disapprobation because if a handful of fans on 4chan were creepy than surely all the fandom was creepy. I’ve had plenty of fun mail in my inbox as people with cartoon avatars told me my opinion was invalid because I had an avatar from a different cartoon show. If I had an MP avatar that made me a “brony,” which made me a creepy MRA edgelord. Never mind that I don’t even use the term, and haven’t since… well, since the grossest elements of 4chan got it tattooed on their phalluses and trumpeted it to the heavens as the calling card of their misogyny.

There was a moment, I think, back in the halcyon days of 2010 and 2011 where we could have taken this another way. Where, socially, the rise of boys watching ‘the girl’s show’ was treated as a breakthrough, as a paradigm shift, as something to be celebrated and nurtured instead of something to revile like an anti-homosexual PSA from the 1950s. “Can’t let the adult men near that children’s show, who knows what might happen. They might repeat the trends that all fandoms have done for decades upon decades - the horror!”

We could have been better - but we weren’t. We mocked, and clutched our pearls, and looked appalled, and in doing so we fed the trolls all the ammunition they’d ever need to turn themselves into The Poor Oppressed Babies who just wanted to be left alone to watch their ponies and belittle women in peace. So the gender-questioning bi boy trying to feel good about himself got rounded-up with the usual 4chan suspects because we both enjoyed the same television program.

Patriarchy is not an external force with its boot upon our necks: it is a collaborative social effort, reinforced both consciously and sub-consciously every day. The internet of the early 2010s was a very different place, and the decisions we made then still live with us today. If we want to stop the perpetuation of toxic masculinity, we have to ourselves cease to perpetuate it. There’s an entire generation of queer boys and non-binary boys and non-bro cis-boys - the kind who cry and care and give a shit about kindness - who have grown up on Steven Universe and Adventure Time and yes, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. These are boys who deserve to have a better place prepared for them than I had, one that isn’t still littered by the baggage of all the dumb stupid crap from 2010 and 2011.

It’s time to let the ghost of Toxic 4chan Fandoms Past go already, and let this show about cartoon ponies be free to entertain and delight without incurring a moral inquisition. Life is so bad right now, the news is so dire. Curl up with My Little pony: Friendship is Magic and let all its goodness, and kindness, and laughter, and caring carry you away and remind you that we can still tell stories about worlds in which those virtues are treasured. Let the show stand on its actual merits, and not the cultural lodestones of long-gone reprobates. And stop granting the phantoms of 4chan the power to say anything meaningful in 2019.

_________________ *Serious question: what does Fluttershy do for a living? Like, as her job? For most of the series? She’s the only one who doesn’t have a meaningful career, and after meeting her enabling parents you just know she’s been living off pre-existing savings for years (she’s thrifty like that).

[Note: this post was originally posted in this thread. It has since been re-edited and slightly modified.]

[phroyd]

American presidents lie. They always have. Just Google “Lyndon Johnson and the Gulf of Tonkin,” “Bill Clinton and NAFTA” or “George Bush and weapons of mass destruction.” Even Honest Abe likely told a fib or two.

But no U.S. president has ever lied as prolifically, constantly, insidiously and dangerously as Donald Trump. He never stops. He’s the Energizer Bunny of endless falsehood.

It’s enough to make even Orwell’s head explode.

Trump, who received votes from just one in four U.S. adults in 2016, claimed that he would have won the popular vote over Hillary Clinton were it not for the voter fraud of undocumented immigrants. The alleged criminal votes were never cast.

Trump called his 2016 Electoral College victory “The biggest electoral victory since Ronald Reagan.” It was no such thing.

Trump lied about the size of his inauguration crowd even as aerial photographs of the event contradicted his boasts.

He has repeatedly and preposterously claimed that the Latinx immigrant population is full of murderers, rapists and gang members. It is not.

Trump claimed that President Obama “had my ‘wires tapped’ in Trump Tower” just before his 2016 election victory. They were not.

He claimed to have as president-elect negotiated a deal to “save 1,100 jobs” at a Carrier plant in Anderson, Ind. He did no such thing.

He absurdly concocted a terrorist attack that never occurred, in Sweden, during his first month in office.

He claimed that the head of the Boy Scouts called him to say his speech was the best ever delivered to the Boy Scouts Jamboree. No such call ever took place. Trump’s terrible oration was widely reviled.

Trump claimed to have fired James Comey because the FBI director mishandled Hillary Clinton’s email scandal prior to the 2016 election, not because he was continuing to investigate Trump and the Trump campaign’s ties to Russia. That was another baldfaced lie.

He claimed that white-nationalist and neo-Nazi marchers in Charlottesville, Va., were “protesting very quietly,” and that liberal and left counter-protesters “didn’t have a [protest] permit.” False and false.

Trump laughably told oil workers in North Dakota that environmentalists “didn’t know why” they opposed the ecocidal, petro-capitalist Dakota Access and Keystone-XL pipelines. Ridiculous.

Trump lied repeatedly and viciously about the number of people who diedduring and after Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico.

He ludicrously claimed to have led a strong federal response to the devastating storm in Puerto Rico. (He gave himself a “ten.”)

Trump absurdly claimed that his former national security adviser Michael Flynn didn’t do “anything wrong.” Flynn was later convicted for lying about his communications with the Kremlin during Trump’s presidential transition.

Trump farcically claimed that Paul Manafort never played a major role in his 2016 campaign. (Manafort chaired the Trump campaign up through the Republican National Convention that year.)

Trump falsely claimed that a Justice Department inspector general report exonerated him of collusion with Russia and obstruction of justice. The report did neither of those things.

Trump ridiculously claimed that Michael Cohen was never a big player in his career or campaign. Cohen was Trump’s longstanding personal attorney and “fixer,” and he too has been convicted on federal charges.

Trump has claimed to know nothing about the illegal campaign finance payoff of Stormy Daniels and Karen McDougal. Cohen exposed that lie this summer.

After Cohen turned himself in to federal authorities, Trump said that Cohen pleaded guilty to two counts of campaign finance violations that “were not crimes.” False. The violations are indeed federal crimes.

Trump unbelievably claimed not to have known that his son and son-in-law met with Russians claiming to have dirt on Hillary Clinton in Trump Tower in June 2016.

Trump helped concoct the White House lie that the real subject matter of that June 2016 meeting was U.S. adoption policy.

He says that China “has been attempting to interfere in the upcoming 2018 elections.” There is no evidence to support that charge.

He falsely claims to be a self-made billionaire, something that The New York Times shows to have been a lie. (His father staked his entire business.)

Trump says that he and the Republican Party passed a “middle-class” tax “reform.” He certainly knows that they enacted a plutocratic tax cut, a great windfall for big corporations and the richest 1 percent.

Trump absurdly claimed before the tax cut that “we [U.S.-Americans] pay more taxes than anybody in the world” (we don’t) and that the tax “reform” would “cost me a fortune.”

He absurdly said that “public lands will once again be available for public use” while handing over 2 million acres to private corporations for coal mining, oil drilling, uranium extraction and other environmentally disastrous industrial activities.

He falsely claimed that he was legally compelled to order a “zero tolerance” border policy last spring that separated Mexican and Central American children from their parents.

In defense of his good friends atop the absolutist, head-chopping Saudi Arabian regime (which sends kill teams to torture, kill, and vivisect dissenting journalists in foreign embassies), Trump claims that Saudis have purchased $110 billion worth of military equipment from the U.S. and that this purchase creates “five-hundred thousand jobs,” later inflated to ““1 million jobs.” ”in the U.S.  His numbers here are absurdly exaggerated.

He claims without evidence that there are “people of Middle Eastern descent” in the latest Central American migrant “caravan” moving through Mexico towards the U.S.’ southern border.

He baselessly insisted that “Democrats are paying members of the caravan to try and get into the U.S. to harm Republicans in the midterms.”

He has sent U.S. troops to guard the border on the absurd lie that the beleaguered caravan constitutes a “national emergency.”

He preposterously claims that it is the mainstream media, which he calls “the enemy of the people,” and not him that has created our current climate of hatred and violence—even as he applauds a Montana congressman for body-slamming a young reporter.

Trump’s evasion of responsibility follows a hate-filled campaign and 21 months of ax-grinding in the Oval Office that has seen him call immigrants criminal gang members, murderers and rapists, while maliciously describing his political enemies and media critics and journalists as “evil,” “low lifes,” “low IQ” and “the most dishonest people on Earth.” Along the way, the openly sexist Trump has referred to women as “animals,” “dogs,” “horse-face,” “fat” and worse. The white supremacist who killed 11 people in a Jewish synagogue last Saturday was egged into violent action by Trump’s ridiculous and hateful caravan rhetoric.

The Trump Lie Machine is going into head-spinning and soul-numbing overdrive as the midterm elections draw closer.

Trump claimed earlier this year that leftist violence will break out across the country if Democrats reclaim Congress in the upcoming midterm elections. The absurdity speaks for itself.

Trump said in Arizona recently that immigrants had illegally taken over a city council in California. The claim was complete nonsense.

Trump has recently and insanely suggested that people are “rioting” in California “to get out of Sanctuary Cities. …They’re demanding to be released from sanctuary cities.” (This may be the single craziest thing I’ve ever seen Trump claim. It is truly bizarre.)

Trump is ridiculously claiming the Democrats will kick seniors off health insurance, abolish insurance protections for people with health problems, destroy Social Security, abolish U.S. borders and (I am not making this up) give “illegal” immigrants “free cars.” That’s right: “free cars” for “illegals.”

Trump repeatedly—36 times across seven political speeches this fall—called the Democrats “radicals.” Of course, the Democrats are a deeply conservative, Big Business-friendly, imperial/pro-military, and depressingly centrist apparatus. There isn’t a single genuine radical in their entire party.

Trump says that the “new platform of the supposedly ‘radical’ Democrats is to abolish ICE” (Immigrations and Customs Enforcement). That is flatly false.

Trump lies and distorts so relentlessly and profusely that tracking and fact-checking his false statements has become a full-time job for journalists at home and abroad.

One of these journalists is Daniel Dale, the Washington bureau chief of the Toronto Star. He calculates that Lyin’ Don has made four false claims per day since being sworn into the presidency 21 months ago with his hand on the Bible.

When Dale was first assigned the Trump beat in September 2016, he found the Republican candidate “so incessantly dishonest” that his habit of twisting and inverting reality required a specific focus “separate from the day-to-day news coverage I was doing.” Dale looked forward to being “freed from this [ugly] task” of covering Trump’s persistent untruths once Hillary Clinton prevailed, as was widely expected. Trump won “and so, [he] had to continue.”

What accounts for this endless mendacity and rhetorical manipulation? Speaking to “Public” Broadcasting System “NewsHour” anchor and Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) member Judy Woodruff last week, Dale theorized that Trump and the Republican allies and outlets who repeat his outlandish and bogus assertions want to drive media coverage and political discourse away from topics they wish to avoid—health care, the Mueller investigation and “anything else the president doesn’t want us to talk about,” such as Trump’s still unreleased tax returns, climate change and the party’s regressive tax cuts.

Dale is on to something there, no doubt, but the real meaning of the president’s Twitter-amplified Fibby Pulpit is deeper and darker than mere diversion and partisan spin. As Chris Hedges suggests in his latest book, “America: The Farewell Tour,” Trump and his party’s continuing defiance of reality suggests that the United States is sliding into “corporate totalitarianism”:

Trump and the Republican Party represent the last stage in the emergence of corporate totalitarianism. Pillage and oppression are intensified by the permanent lie. The permanent lie is different from the falsehoods and half-truths uttered by politicians like Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama. The common political lie these politicians employed was not designed to cancel out reality. It was a form of manipulation. … But Clinton did not pretend that NAFTA was beneficial to the working class when reality proved otherwise. Bush did not pretend that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction once none were found.

The permanent lie is not circumscribed by reality. It is perpetuated even in the face of overwhelming evidence that discredits it. It is irrational. Those who speak in the language of truth and fact are attacked as liars, traitors and purveyors of ‘fake news.’ They are banished from the public sphere once totalitarian elites accrue sufficient power, a power now granted them with the revoking of net neutrality. … “The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world – and the category of truth versus falsehood is among the mental means to this end – is being destroyed,” Hanna Arendt wrote in The Origins of Totalitarianism. …

The permanent lie turns political discourse into absurdist theater. … Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin claims he has a report that proves the tax cuts will pay for themselves and will not increase the deficit – only there never was a report. … The permanent lie is the apotheosis of totalitarianism. It no longer matters what is true. … When reality is replaced by the whims of opinion and expediency, what is true one day becomes false the next. Consistency is discarded. Complexity, nuance, and depth and profundity are replaced with the simpleton’s faith in threats and force.

Consistency is discarded. The Trump administration has cited “states’ rights” in trying to roll back federal requirements that out-of-date coal and nuclear plants be shut down, even as it endeavors to federally negate the state of California’s right to enforce comparatively stringent emission regulations.

Republican Congressional candidates run campaign commercials proclaiming their commitment to retaining the Affordable Care Act’s provision prohibiting health insurance companies from discriminating against people with pre-existing conditions at the same time that the GOP is viciously challengingthat provision in court.

Trump blames the nation’s bourgeois media and a timid, centrist Democratic Party for the hatred, incivility and demonization that pollute U.S. politics while he calls his opponents “evil” and celebrates violence against liberals and journalists.

It is important to understand, as Hedges does, that the Trump-led assault on veracity, evidence and our very ability to separate truth from falsehood has been able to gain traction only because a decades-long corporate coup has devastated and discredited public education, academia, organized labor and the legal and criminal justice systems. It has done all this and more while turning the Democratic Party into what the late Princeton political scientist Sheldon Wolin called the nation’s Inauthentic Opposition.

Think of this distinctively American “corporate-managed democracy” and “inverted totalitarianism” as the nation’s pre-existing authoritarian condition for the rise of an Amerikaner-style fascism.

In the face of what an authoritarian like Trump and his white-nationalist Republican Party have done over the last two years of one-party rule—an annulment of what’s left of the U.S. Constitution’s much-ballyhooed “checks and balances”—there’s no credible moral argument against the notion that progressives living in contested districts should choose the lesser of two evils in next week’s midterm elections. Adolph Reed Jr., Noam Chomsky and Arun Gupta’s warnings about the dangers of a Trump presidency have been richly born out. I, for one, should have paid them more heed.

Still, we on the left, what’s left of it, should nonetheless retain our capacity to be properly nauseated by a yard sign I recently saw in arch-liberal, super-blue Iowa City, Iowa. Surrounded by other, smaller signs with the names of a handful of dismal local and statewide Democratic candidates, it read “MAKE AMERICA GOOD AGAIN: Vote.”

Please. The notion that the richly bipartisan corporate totalitarianism of which Trump is the apotheosis can be reversed, and the nation made “good” simply by voting Herr Donald and the Republicans out of office is a childish fantasy.

That, too, is a Great Lie. As marchers celebrating a rare legal victory over a white supremacist U.S. police state in Democratically controlled Chicago chanted last month, “The whole damn system is guilty as Hell.” It’s the whole damn system that must be democratized from the bottom up. From the dismal dollar Democrats, The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, MSNBC, “P”BS, Tom Steyer, the Gates Foundation, the Brookings Institution, the CFR, the Atlantic Council, the Obama and Clintons on the so-called left, to the radically reactionary Republicans, the Koch brothers, the Mercers, the Heritage Foundation, the American Enterprise Institute, Fox News, the Weekly Standard, the Hudson Institute, the Hoover Institution, and the American Legislative Exchange Council, Breitbart, right-wing talk radio, the Sinclair Broadcasting Co., the Federalist Society and more on the actual right, imperialism, racial inequality and class rule have brought us to this menacing pre-fascist moment.

Paul Street

ContributorPaul Street holds a doctorate in U.S. history from Binghamton University. He is former vice president for research and planning of the Chicago Urban League. Street is also the author of numerous books,…

Phroyd

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Battle for Our Souls

The biggest casualty of strongmen getting elected that not a lot of people talk or think about, because as Trevor Noah puts ‘Ain’t Nobody Has Time for That’, is the social and personal psyche. There are always two ways to win over, rule or lead people. One is to unite them. To appeal to the similarity, to remind them that there are far more things that unite us than divide us. This is difficult, because humans are evolutionarily primed to focus on the contrasts. Woody Allen once said that if only two people remain on earth after rest of humanity has destroyed itself, the left-handed guy will take on the right handed one. Uniting people is slow painful task where success comes in excruciating increments, where for every one step forward, one risks sliding two back.

Or you could just divide people into tribes that hate each other's guts and make sure your tribe votes harder than theirs. This divide-and-rule strategy is as old as humanity itself, though the motto (divide et impera) is attributed to Philip II of Macedonia. Machiavelli called it an effective strategy to weaken enemies.  British used it in India and advanced into the subcontinent at an astounding pace. And Donald Trump used it to propel himself from a joke candidate to a joke President, only it’s not so funny this time.

Trump has succeeded so well in doing this, that his statement about shooting someone at 5th Avenue in New York and getting away with it seems horrifyingly accurate. In Trump’s tribe, The Man can do no wrong, and any evidence against him make people question the facts themselves. As Trump progresses in office, he keeps alienating his opponents more and more, while his base gets consolidated and strengthened by the day. At this rate 2020 will be less of a battle of ideals and issues and more of a ‘Might-is-Right’ contest between two group.

There was an article in The Economist on how moderates have become an extinct species. Moderate voices will always become a casualty when the discourse takes sharp turn towards ideological extremes. The Republican Party has effectively cannibalised voices with veneer of sanity, and replaced them with gun-toting-Bible-thumping-sons-of-soil; where they would rather vote in a peadophile with tribe loyalty than a moderate critical thinking maverick.

Technology was once a great uniter. It helped the cause of democracy with Arab Spring, India’s Anti-Corruption movement, Net Neutrality and so much more. We elevated the Techpreneurs to messianic figures proclaiming the gospel of hyper-connectedness and outreach. Today, we have to an extent confronted the damage these glorified advertising corporations and their tools can inflict on the state of the nation. The Cambridge Analytica scandal has cast Mark as the villian. The fact remains though that it is foolish of us to feign shock over what we always suspected, and in fact knew, these Ad-holes were up to, and that we would gladly give up privacy for the convenience of sharing a selfie of us with our breakfasts.

The mechanism employed to delegitimise the opponent is straight out of Joseph Goebbels playbook. By constantly referring to your opponents with an unkind adjective, like ‘Crooked Hillary’, ‘Low-Energy Jeb’, ‘Lying Ted’, he is making sure these people are dehumanised and reviled by his support base. Constantly badgering people with lies like election fraud, wiretapping, ‘witch hunt’ and crowd size makes the fan base buy into the idea of widespread conspiracy. Hell, Trump has even thrown FBI into jeopardy to increase his support among his base.

The ruling party in India has adopted a similar strategy to delegitimise opposition, with its highly effective social media machinery belting out catchphrases and blurbs like ‘Pappu’ and aggressively sharing memes about how great their Exalted Highness is. The discourse has descended into primitive tribalism so badly, that the supporters are finding it difficult to see any wrong in the rape of an eight year old girl. Systematic, some subtle and some not so subtle, efforts to equate loyalty and blind Nationalism to patriotism is underway. Party spokespersons ask us to be grateful that people are not jailed for speaking out against the government. Leaders bayed for arrest of the family after a man was lynched for alleged possession of beef, conveniently ignoring the brutal mob justice part or even describing the mob as innocent! That the most populous state in the country is now ruled by a fanatic whose government does not regard Taj Mahal as a monument worthy of endorsement. School textbooks are being tweaked to suit the ideology of the ruling party, extolling the virtues of debatable schemes rolled out by the government and disregarding achievements of previous governments.

That’s all OK, but what’s it got to do with you and me?

Image Courtesy: FunEcho, YouTube

Valid question. That takes us to where we started. Let’s begin with Trump. Everytime the POTUS tweets, that becomes the news. Trump is keenly aware of this. And he was a reality TV star. So he keeps peppering them with generous doses of outrageous statements. Martin Scorsese used a similar trick to get Taxi Driver approved with R rating with its bloody scenes. MPAA wanted to give the film an X, but by submitting the film uncut again and again, he desensitised the censors and got them to give an R. We now accept that the leader of the free world will bully anybody who opposes him using unkind words absolutely unbecoming of a man of his stature. We accept that a president can just support Nazis and not expect impeachment at all. As the administration turns the government into a cemetery, the public is letting smaller skeletons slide. In India, the fringe has come out of hiding. We are finding it okay, and even legitimate that there be a sound logic to murder of a senior journalist for her strong views against The Party. Demonising minority community and dissing them openly is becoming more and more mainstream. Leaders who have called for violence against the minorities, who have engineered riots, who have made fake exodus claims, are now finding themselves elected and popular, because they work ‘18 hours’ a day and ‘transfer non-performing bureaucrats’. That when a violent opposition towards a mediocre period drama resulted in a school bus with kids getting stones pelted, the social media devotees defended by commenting at least nobody was injured.  That when pointed about States violating freedom of speech, one gets responses such as ‘Do you have guts to make a movie on the other religion’.

There is a decline in the political and moral discourse. The emphasis is less on merits and demerits of ideas and more on the person or the party behind it. When this happens, debates gets infused with sentimentality. When you have an opposing political stand to a coworker or a friend or family, things get taken personally and suddenly, you are an enemy. You are to them, trying to undermine the effort of a man working 20 hour days trying to save the country from decay that everybody else had wrought upon for 60 years. Imagine the arrogance we allow when we idolise people that were once considered fringe and vilify everybody else who have had an important role to play in the country’s history. Nehru may have made mistakes, but he did what he thought was best for the country. So did Gandhi..

When we mainstreamise the fringe, where do we go from there? When we shut our eyes to rationality and reason and have unquestioning and blind faith in a party or a man, it undoes the centuries worth of works of soldiers and writers and philosophers and saints and statesmen who fought for ideals that ask us to rise above the petty tribalism. The very idea that the ideals, the morals, the rights, the institutions are greater than a person, a party, a caste, a religion or a group might be at stake here. The great war today is not between right and left, between Trump and Dems, between One Man and the 19 odd parties; it is between the works of centuries that has woven a fragile fabric of our socio-economico-politico-moral existence with enough checks and balances and our primitive instincts that threaten to tear it all apart, testing these checks to the limit.

In other words, it's a battle for our collective souls.

References:

1. Taxi Driver: https://books.google.com/books?id=40UTI-uUHpwC&pg=PA108&dq=%22We+got+congratulated+on+changes+that+we+never+made%22&hl=en&sa=X&ei=iU1mUqH7HYeTrgf6kYCQDA&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q=%22We%20got%20congratulated%20on%20changes%20that%20we%20never%20made%22&f=false

2. The Economist Article: https://www.economist.com/united-states/2016/01/14/the-centre-cannot-hold?fsrc=scn/fb/te/pe/ed/thecentrecannothold

3. The war on textbooks: https://washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2018/06/01/indias-new-textbooks-are-promoting-the-prime-ministers-favorite-policies-critics-allege/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.0cfb5af3c8e4

4. Beef over beef: https://firstpost.com/india/dadri-lynching-take-action-against-akhlaqs-kin-for-eating-beef-says-adityanath-2811776.html

[ciaran-nyc]

Beyond iCelebrity Week 3 Assignment

How can we heal as a nation from these twin viruses: COVID19 and The Big Lie/QAnon Conspiracy Contagion? What are some of your proposed antidotes?

Subjectivity and personal experience must be removed from the acknowledgment and understanding of objective facts. With politicians serving as interpreters of complex information for vast swaths of the nation, they must be held to a higher standard beyond personal political aspirations. Facts and real life events cannot be questioned and must simply be agreed upon as a base level in establishing common ground. Disagreement can exist in how to respond to reality but the first step is getting all to choose to exist in a world guided by the truth. There is no moving forward or healing as a nation, when some experience two contrasting realities when under the same circumstances. Alternative news sources and forums will always pop-up under stricter regulations, so if civilians can’t be trusted then the onus must be placed on politicians.

What are your thoughts on Eugene Goodman's actions the day on Jan 6th?

Officer Goodman’s actions on the day of January 6th exemplified extreme bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. He is a true patriot, for he put himself at risk for the safety of our country and the protection of democracy. Goodman’s identity as a black man cannot be overlooked in the context of the video and adds a great weight to his presence as a uniformed officer. Many of the same lawmakers Goodman sought to protect refuse to even acknowledge racism in America and further demonize efforts that seek equal rights for minorities. Watching Eugene Goodman be put in such a dangerous position for the sake of many who won’t truly appreciate his sacrifice is deeply troubling and difficult to reconcile. There is no question he is a hero, but it is a tragedy that his bravery won’t be recognized by the same people that claim to support the police.

Do you think AOC demonstrated bravery in telling her story? How does such a narrative redefine power? How do her relationships with other staff members provide solace and assist with collective healing?

Congresswoman Ocasio-Cortez demonstrated great strength and perseverance in her vulnerability and openness on such a public platform as Instagram live. Unlike a well crafted political speech, her live performance eliminated the middle man of a television broadcast as she directly spoke to her following. Her candor and honesty challenges much of the secrecy in politics that has sowed great mistrust for the government. By choosing to tell her own story she is taking the power back from the Capitol rioters and giving it to the people. This move certainly had political implications, as it is on brand for her to connect with fans and potential future voters in such a manner, but beyond that, she is refusing to be silenced by threats and violence, proving that American democracy was triumphant. Her symbolic survival of the siege and refusal to concede on her beliefs is meant to provide comfort and inspiration that despite the tough times America is experiencing, we will survive. By invoking her relationships with other staff members, Congresswoman Ocasio-Cortez creates a picture of a united government and demonstrates that despite the stark divisions in this country, progress can be made by coming together.

What is the difference between Fame and Infamy? What does the insurrection say about the shadow side of celebrityhood and false idolatry?

I think it is difficult to separate fame and infamy because rooted within fame and fandom is a desire to see behind the mask of celebrity into the messy and often traumatic lives of well known figures. A celebrity’s failures and shortcomings make for a far more compelling story than highlighting accomplishments. When a famous person makes a mistake and falls from grace, there is a feeling of reassurance for civilians because it proves that all people are flawed, allowing for normal people to feel more secure in their own failures. Celebrities that openly embrace their flaws can attain a different level of trust with fans, as it mimics an equal dynamic although the power distribution still remains greatly skewed. For many, a significant component of Donald Trump’s appeal was his public struggles in the spotlight, for his fallibility was misinterpreted as a relatable normalcy in rebuke of formality and political maneuvering. Although Donald Trump openly made mistakes, he refused to ever acknowledge them as such, and this resistance to facts was born out of an innate confidence that his supporters sought to mimic. Trump’s fame and infamy are one in the same, for his actions have propelled him to be both revered and reviled by millions. Perhaps Donald Trump’s most significant impact as president will be as a result of his influence as a celebrity and not from his power as president. Donald Trump was able to inspire an insurrection because he is famous; he didn’t have the power to command those civilians to act like he does with the army, he had to rely on his celebrity.

The social media, live-streamed insurrection: what does it mean that the perpetrators of the Capitol siege provided photographic and video evidence of their crimes? Was this more evidence of delusion? Of white privilege?

I believe privilege and delusion are indistinguishable. Privilege affords certain people a life that other’s are not privy to experience, thus creating intense delusions that simply become reality for the privileged. From an outside perspective, the rioters may have seemed delusional, but if in their lives the sum of their experiences has indicated a minimal expectation of resistance or repercussions to their actions, then it is simply a fact of their lives – why would they expect anything different when upping the stakes? The timid response from capitol officers and the delayed arrival of the national guard further maintain the privilege-born delusions that enabled the attempted insurrection in the first place, as it has been reinforced that white people can act with impunity. While the concept of a civilian-led government raid sounds outlandish and delusional, their boldness and total disregard for American customs indicated an inherent confidence that allowed these people to overlook the absurdity of their plots. Although many of the rioters have been arrested after the fact, they were still extremely successful in their motives. Although Joe Biden has been inaugurated, the impact of the siege will be long lasting. The rioters disrupted the world and made history, shaking the very foundation of the country. The widespread documentation of the insurrection led to the arrest and capture of many of the individuals, but also drastically impacted they way all who witnessed the events comprehend American politics and the culture at large. The visual evidence of the insurrection will be manipulated and used for a host of unimaginable reasons for years to come. Although many have ascribed negative attributes to the perpetrators of the Capitol siege, others have glorified them, transforming their image and likeness into a representation of resistance and strength. Without social media, the insurrection would have been far less effective and the long term affect would have been minimal.

Discuss the role of citizen sleuths and the anonymous creator of Faces of the Riot in this ongoing collaboration with the FBI. How does the hive mind serve as a corrective?

The work of “Faces of the Riot” in this situation is extremely important and well intentioned; however, working with the FBI and any government body is a slippery slope. There is no question the Capitol rioters need to be brought to justice, but with civilians aiding the investigation efforts, civilians in opposition will likely feel more emboldened to act. Many of those that stormed the Capital would likely self-describe as internet sleuths that are “fighting to uncover the truth.” Civilian cooperation is essential in solving any crime, but allowing civilians that are driven by no structure or regulations other than their own morals and partiality risks a wide margin of error rooted in personal bias/interest. The concept of a hive mind is potentially scary because of the lack of control once a large body of people are driven by a single directive in accomplishing a shared goal. Although the hive mind’s intentions may be pure, the means of accomplishing said goal will vary based on the individual. Further, those that appear most committed to a cause will likely become one of many leaders for their determination and intensity. Without a means of proper checks and balances of power, the direction of a a hive mind can switch swiftly and without thorough cause. Such switches can be inspired by a charismatic leader, or the desire of a well-connected government agency manipulating information in favor of those with the most social/political power at the time.

With the rise of McCarthyism in the 1950’s, hyperbole and gross over-exaggeration was utilized to manipulate United States civilians into equating communism with an attack on American values, which resulted in an intense national paranoia. Those that were accused of being communists were shunned, expelled from the country, and regarded as anti-American. The FBI’s director J. Edgar Hoover played a pivotal role in this campaign by sowing fear and division within the country as a means of maintaining political influence. The fervor of many Trump supporters and those that ultimately stormed the capital were rooted in misplaced trust in others, which created mob mentality singularly motivated by chaos. While those working to combat the hate witnessed at the Capitol siege can view their work as corrective, there are scores of Americans that fully supported the initial attack. Correction is entirely subjective and can be attempted, but it also entirely depends on access, privilege, and power.

[morfiction]

Lot’s Wife

Bringing the Mind to Peace

and Removing it of Sin.

By

Mara The Sorrowful

Genesis 19:6

6 But his wife looked back from behind him,

and she became a pillar of salt.

http://biblehub.com/genesis/19-26.htm

So was the fate of Lot’s wife as she witnessed the destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah. The place had been a place of sin and so great was the sin that God had it destroyed. All she did is witness its destruction, she is punished for it.

The mind, body, and soul of deeply religious person in today’s society is equal to that of a pillar of stone. Their hearts and minds are hardened to armor them against the love that is God’s Love for them. Against the love of their fellow man.

The teaching of Jesus upon the Sermon on the Mount were many wise and well considered words. They will be a cornerstone of this book. But I do not wish to preach to champion the Christian Faith. Rather, I use these words to comfort the soul of all men & women upon the earth.  You may find solace in them if you are or are not a believer in him.

I will begin with a most important concept.

Matthew 5-7 (King James Version)

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=MATT%205-7&version=KJV

25 Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?

26 Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

27 Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

28 And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:

29 And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

30 Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

31 Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?

32 (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

34 Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Jesus isn’t saying you should be a nudist. He’s saying DO NOT judge people by their clothes (aka “raiment”) if you think wearing your Sunday Best or an expensive piece of clothing gives you a higher place in Heaven than a bum wearing rags, you’re dead wrong, buster.

To whom is Jesus speaking? Who does Jesus truly believe will follow him into Heaven & get their just rewards? You and me, my friend. God doesn’t judge you harshly for being gay or lesbian or bi or transgender or even heterosexual. He doesn’t care how you express your sexuality or gender. He made you different because he loves you and wishes to give you strength to stand up against your oppressors and say “NO!”

Be happy with who you are. I’m not here to pressure you to join any group you don’t entirely want to join. I wrote this document to give you hope for your future. Shine that light of yours that God has given you. If you’re LGBT, wave that Pride Flag high! If you are not, then speak no more sinful assertions against your fellow man or woman who are.

Now let’s back up a bit.

www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=MATT+5-7&version=NIV

“Matthew 5-7

King James Version (KJV)

5 And seeing the multitudes, he (Jesus) went up into a mountain: and when he was set, his disciples came unto him:

2 And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying,

3 Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

4 Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

5 Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.

6 Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.

7 Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

8 Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.

9 Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.

10 Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.”

And is when Jesus spoke the words “falsely, for my sake” he predicted that a series of new religions would spring up which claimed to be inspired by him and his sacrifice but ultimately were just a continuation of the practices of the Temple he sought to overthrow.

“12 Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.” And great the reward shall be…”

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

Let’s step outside of preaching mode for a moment so I may explain. I am referencing Jesus, but I am not speaking only to Christians. Jesus is speaking to those who have been outcast or teased or bullied. Whether or not you admit it, if you have been set aside because you are different, you have been persecuted.

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

If you have been told you’re too tall, if you’re too short, or too this or too that. If you’re not good at sports, if you stutter, if you have ADHD, whatever… and people are using your difference from the norm against you, Jesus is looking right at you and giving you a promise towards salvation.

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

Jesus isn’t going to save the bullies. The bully can go to church every sunday and swear on a stack of Bibles all he wants, and Jesus isn’t fooled by this deceit. Bullies threw stones at Jesus, the whipped him, and they murdered him. He will have not that person in Heaven beside you.

“14 Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.

15 Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.

16 Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.“

A little opaque in the delivery, but Jesus is saying do not hide or feel shame for your gifts and God-given talents. If you can sing, sing. If you can draw, draw. If you can write, write. Do all the creative things you wish. Do not let the bullies and naysayers tell you to stop being you. Those who do so are jealous of you and your gifts, they wish to poison your mind against you so that they may feel satisfaction.

“20 For I say unto you, That except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven.“

He’s saying that those who have been bullied & scorned are far better than those who do the bullying & scorning.

40 And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.

41 And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.

42 Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.

43 Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.“

Now I know the word “sue” gets a different meaning now than Jesus had meant. The word should be “request.” He means in these passages that you freely give of yourself to others, especially those who are poor or harmless who ask for help. That you should go beyond that, even, give the person roughly twice the help they request.

Now I’m not saying give someone twenty dollars just because they want ten. If you cannot realistically afford to give money, give them kindness. Be that person’s friend in the very least. By adding value and self-worth into their lives adds value and self-worth into your own.

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

“44 But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;“

Need I explain? (smiles) Do not seek vengeance, but try and ask for God to forgive them.

“6 Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven.

2 Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

3 But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:

4 That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.“

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

Fascinating. Jesus actually predicted mega-charities springing up! Don’t let them fool you, most of the money you give to these places to “feed the poor starving African children” doesn’t go entirely towards feeding them. A large portion of it pays for the salaries of paid actors & high production values… goes into the pockets of people who become wealthy thru this subterfuge.

http://facu.proboards.com/thread/139/goals-website?page=1&scrollTo=246

Jesus doesn’t pass the collection plate. If you worship somewhere that expects you to DEFY Jesus’s above proclamation against public charity, then do not go there. Don’t let them convince you they are serving his will, don’t believe the lies! This is the first of the crimes organized religion has made against him and the most telling example of their falsehood.

“5 And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

6 But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.“

Okay, not literally in your closet. But in Jesus’s time there were only synagogues. But if Jesus were alive today, he’d tell you not to go into a Church either. Any building that says it is “God’s House” and exists only to profit off of people seeking enlightenment is a place of sin.

He is saying your prayer should be a private thing between you and God, that God will see you pray and will hear your words no matter how secretly you do it. In fact, you don’t even have to pray at all. He’ll read your mind, he will know what bothers you and will do his best to give you happiness but he cannot give everyone instant gratification for there are so many other people in need.

“7 But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking.

8 Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.“

Jesus is specifically saying do not form your prayer as a routine thing you say. Don’t say Grace, don’t say The Lord’s Prayer before you go to bed. God will hear your words and ignore you. And back to the mind-reading I said earlier. Sweet.

“9 After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.

10 Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

11 Give us this day our daily bread.“

This passage is invalid because it contradicts his edict against “vain repetitions.”

What have we learned? We have learned not to value Organized Religion’s doctrines above our own self-worth. We have learned not to make a show of charity or prayer. We have also learned to not structure our prayer in the form of a prideful speech. We have discredited the tools that the bullies use to oppress us.

This is the end of the first part of my narrative. Be well. See you in Part Two.

[duaneodavila]

The New England Patriots Restore My Faith In America

(Photo by Jim Rogash/Getty Images)

With another soul-crushing, officiating driven victory, the New England Patriots will have the gall to publicly bitch that no one ever believed in them and tout their “underdog” status despite being an “underdog” precisely once in since 2016, while their fans, from Donald Trump on down, will obnoxiously flock to social media to claim that the “haters” just can’t stand their success.

It’s hard to find joy in times like these, but surveying the metaphysical carnage wrought upon the sporting world last night, I find hope — if only a sliver — in knowing that, by and large, America is still a place where the commitment to an abstract sense of justice, even just a promise of justice that goes routinely unrealized, still holds sway.

The New England Patriots are not universally reviled because they have won six championships. America doesn’t viscerally reject champions. America only rejects champions when it has a deep and abiding sense that their success is ill-gotten. Whether the fault one finds is based on a belief that the team has broken the rules of an otherwise fair and just system or the conviction that all this champion has done is expose the rotten that lies at the heart of the whole institution, it’s the revulsion to the concept of foul play that agitates America to come together over its hatred of this loathsome franchise.

Root for him or against him, LeBron was never hated in Cleveland — a team that was consistently a power in the East. He earned disdain when he did an end-run around the league’s salary cap to assemble a super team in Miami. At this point most people who hated that Miami team would gladly give LeBron a hug rather than let him suffer another second playing for this moribund Lakers team. The Golden State Warriors were generally beloved until they managed to add KD to one of the best teams in the modern era. The New York Yankees were reviled when a whole range of factors kept them in a position to outspend every other club — a feature that’s no longer unique to the Yankees — and maybe if baseball’s around in another generation we’ll find people who can’t even grasp why the team had been so despised before.

The Patriots aren’t a team that people hate for their success, they’re a team people hate because they’ve been stone cold caught cheating… twice. And that’s not counting the way they were the most aggressive and greedy cheaters of a whole league of cheaters in bilking the American taxpayers out of money for the team’s own publicity stunts.

They are truly the Lance Armstrong of football and yet somehow no one gets away with saying, “yah just hate Lance Armstrong because he was a champion!”

This brings us full circle to the foundational legal issue here. The rule of law is under siege in America. The Trump administration is now openly declaring they plan to abuse the “acting” tag — a convention it’s been defiling from the Sally Yates dismissal through the Matthew Whitaker regime — by just refusing to even bother with constitutionally required Senate confirmation, which is somehow below the fold because this same White House is about to declare a national emergency to get a boondoggle appropriation it can’t get legally. George Conway’s over here becoming a Twitter phenomenon complaining about the erosion of the rule of law. It’s easy to convince yourself that the underpinning of American democracy is poised on the brink of collapse out of the public’s general apathy in the face of a bargain basement Larry Rhodes.

But things aren’t that bad yet. The Patriots, and more accurately the true patriots who want this franchise to be nuked into oblivion for decades to come, give us hope. There’s still an appetite in America for the old-fashioned idea that rules are rules and cheaters shouldn’t win. Perhaps someday we’ll see an America that lives up to that ideal.

Unfortunately that ideal is probably the Bills, so we’re screwed.

Joe Patrice is a senior editor at Above the Law and co-host of Thinking Like A Lawyer. Feel free to email any tips, questions, or comments. Follow him on Twitter if you’re interested in law, politics, and a healthy dose of college sports news. Joe also serves as a Managing Director at RPN Executive Search.

The New England Patriots Restore My Faith In America republished via Above the Law