#they are correct in that the civilians on their side should not be massacred

[suswous]

It’s sorta funny (not funny) sometimes you’ll see an absolutely atrocious take on Israel-Palestine, and not even know which side they’re supporting.

[valsvalentine]

heyy, I wanted to request something🤍

So it is for kny, a female hashira!y/n x hashira!yoriichi , where there is a kind of one sided enemies to lovers ( from y/n‘s side, entho there is no reason to hate yoriichi!)

Hope it isn’t too specific🤍

INFURIATING

Yoriichi Tsugikuni x hashira!reader

ʚ summary. You’ve always been kind of jealous of Yoriichi, being the second best samurai at the time came with trying to compete with him yet he seemed so unbothered and was still kind to you which sparked something in you. Was it love? Or do you just despise him that much?

ʚ A/N. This is um.. long to say the least :,) I hope you like it since I don’t know much about Yoriichis character but I looked into him a bit more before writing this sooo it should be fine

ʚ warning. not proof read, mentions of bl00d, strong language, might be an OOC Yoriichu but I’m not sure since I’ve stated I don’t know much about his character

— Infuriating. That’s the word you’d say every time someone asked you about your fellow hashira; Yoriichi Tsugikuni. You disliked him dearly, the way he did everything so effortlessly and had the nerve to correct your movements when training just boiled something in you. The way he’d bring you water or lunch after training for hours without end, the way he’d treat your wounds after a particularly challenging mission while scolding you like an angry parent.

Most of the time you pushed him away, his soft and caring aura was intoxicating and you just hated it. Why was he so kind? It’s not like you ever did anything for him so what was the point?

You only ever teased him and gave him nothing but annoyed glances when he was around you, yet he still kept his calm demeanor like it was nothing.

Hashira meetings were unbearable and when your master sent you on missions you’d always somehow end up with him if it were to be a joined mission. You begged and pleaded to get paired with someone else but your master was set on pairing the both of you together due to your unwavering strength.

He always tried to get closer to you, asking you questions about your life and what you enjoyed. You never really gave him an answer, either ignoring his question completely and giving him the cold shoulder or told him it was none of his business. Yoriichi might have looked calm, but deep down he was getting a little ticked off by your unexplainable behaviour. He did not understand what he might’ve done to make you hate him so much. Was he too pushy? That could be it. Not a day passed where he didn’t check up on you or tried to strike up a conversation either by sending his crow with a letter neatly tied to its leg or came by your mansion himself.

Fast forward to the present, you were on a mission with the one and only younger Tsugikuni, running towards a village in need of both of your assistance. A lower moon demon has been spotted there and caused quite a massacre along with some weak demons that leeched off the power of the member of the twelve kizuki.

“I’ll head towards the hot springs, they said there were quite a large amount of weak demons there and they’re causing quite a ruckus. I’ll join you after things are taken care of.” Yoriichi was about to protest, knowing that splitting up right now wouldn’t be the best option yet you jumped off high into the air and you were gone. He cussed under his breath and went towards the center of the village where screams could be heard.

Meanwhile you rushed to the hot springs, slaying two demons on your way there, thankfully no injured civilians in sight. The entrance came into view, making your way up the stairs and looked around to see blood, screams getting more and more intense as you neared where you assumed the demons were. Your eyes widened, freezing in place. You were informed that the hot springs had a handful of weak demons, but piercing eyes stared at you with the writing ‘Lower two’ engraved in its power hungry eyes.

You weren’t necessarily scared, you killed a lower moon once, which played a huge part in you being promoted to hashira, but you didn’t come home unharmed. That was a few years ago when you just joined the demon slayer corps, things would be different now, right?

The fight itself was rough, you managed to land hits on it but you yourself didn’t go unharmed. You swung your sword, finally spotting an opening so you went for it, not wasting such a perfect chance at ending the battle. The thread dissapeared last second, your sword breaking as it collided with it’s neck. You curse, stumbling back to put distance between the two of you. ‘What now?’ You think to yourself as your eyes dart around to find some sort of good strategy but your mind was blank. You scolded yourself, a huge burst of guilt and feeling of failure overtook you as you clutched to the hand of your sword. ‘No, I can’t let it win. All of my hard training to surpass that annoying Tsugikuni would go to waste.”

‘Fighting it until sunrise it is.’ You say and swing your legs to hit its head, throwing punches and kicks to throw it off but it dodged or blocked them with ease. Your plan had little to no chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try. You fought it with all the strength you had, somehow dodging the attacks it threw at you along with the blood demon art it unleashed when pure frustration and rage took over it.

The sun was slowly peaking out yet the demon was so blinded by rage it just pounced on you, scratching at your arms and legs and leaving deep cuts on your body that has reached its limit. Soon a scream of pure agony escaped the demons mouth, disintegrating into thin air leaving you panting on the ground. Getting up felt too much like a bother right now so you just lied there, studying how the stars slowly faded from the once inky black sky, fading into beautiful shades of purple, pink and light blue. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t heard Yoriichi running towards you, covering your view of the sky.

You pulled yourself up, you hated being vulnerable and especially in front of the man you’ve been trying so desperately to surpass. Yoriichi furrowed his brows at the sight of your injured body, standing in front of you. “Get on.” He motioned towards his back and you glared. “I can walk.” You say and go to walk but stumble right away, falling face first onto the ground, an agonising pain shooting through your body.

Yoriichi knew damn well he could’ve caught you, but you needed a bit of a humbling after your rude attitude you had with him for the past couple years. He raised a brow at you while you looked away, cheeks red in embarrassment and brows furrowed. He sighed, letting you get onto his back and ran with you to your own mansion.

As he slowly approached the building, he slowed down his pace. Walking through the entrance and down a hallway, he entered your bathroom and placed you down onto the floor, careful not to hurt you. He ran you a bath and looked through the many drawers you had to find bandages and anything to help clean your wounds.

“Take a bath and then i’ll attend to your wounds.” He said and turned around to leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You scoffed and did as he told you, getting into the bath to wash the days filth away. You hated that you were so vulnerable, you hated that he was taking care of you, but you loved his caring tone, you loved his sweet and gentle touches but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling that to anyone. You dry yourself off, your wounds still leaking blood so you decide to change into just your undergarments as to not bloody your fresh clothes. “You can come in now.” You say, the door opening just after that. Yoriichi didn’t even stare, taking you aback but your heart couldn’t help but warm up at how respectful he was. He took ahold of your arm, cleaning the wound and wrapping bandages carefully around it.

He did this with all four of your limbs, and after he was sure your wounds were attended to he pulled you into an embrace. You wanted to push him away, but something in you made you hug him back. You inhaled his scent, it was like a toxic gas as your heart started to pound against your chest and cheeks warming up. “You’re so reckless L/N, you should’ve backed down once your sword broke.” He said sternly like an angry parent making you scoff. “I’m alive aren’t I? So why scold me? A true slayer won’t yield and will fight to the death.” You stated matter of factly and put your hand on his chest to try pull him away yet he didn’t even budge. He stared at you with worry in his eyes and cupped your cheek in his hand, tracing circles as to comfort you in some sort of way. “L/N you have no idea how devastated I’d be if I found out I failed to protect you.” He said and you let out a laugh. “Of course! The perfect Yoriichi Tsugikuni, failed to protect someone for the first time in his life and finds out he isn’t as invincible and strong as he thinks he is!” You say in a dramatic tone and roll your eyes. “You’re fucking pathetic Tsugikuni.” You let those words slip out of your mouth, a feeling of guilt overwhelming you once meeting Yoriichis hurt expression.

For the first time ever since you met the man, anger took over him. He pushed you away and went to say something but not a word came out. He took a deep breath and turned around. “Good night, L/N.” And after that he left.

Weeks went by and Yoriichis visits stopped. He never even spared you a glance during meetings and only spoke to you when absolutely necessary. You found yourself missing his check ups, his curious questions and enjoyable meals he’d bring by every day. You missed his gentle tone, his comforting pressance but most of all his embrace. You thought about that day every single day, the way his heartbeat pounded against his chest, the way he rubbed circles on your back, it left you longing for more.

Maybe trying to find out why he was avoiding you wouldn’t be so bad. Yes what you said was harsh, but you couldn’t understand why he resorted to avoiding you after you’ve been teasing and pushing his buttons for years now. Pleading with your master, he finally slipped and told you what was bothering the young man. He told you about his wife, how he failed to protect her and his unborn child the same year you became a hashira and how it left him devastated. You soon understood why what you said struck him so much, you simply went too far and triggered something in him to make him remember that traumatic experience.

Everything started falling into place, you thanked your master and left without another word to the Tsugikuni mansion.

With each step you got closer, your heartbeat only increased and a lump formed in your throat. It was like something was suffocating you yet your determination to apologise to Yoriichi was stronger then the anxiety trying to hold you back.

Thoughts clouded your mind, thinking about the years you’ve known Yoriichi and scolded yourself for every single thing you’ve ever said to him, maybe, no, you really shouldn’t have been that harsh on him when all he ever did was be kind to you. Yoriichi was a very thoughtful and understanding, but would he forgive you now after crossing the line with your sarcastic remarks?

You let yourself in once you arrived at his home, knowing the path by heart by now and took off your zori before walking down the hall to look for the man. The garden was a place he usually spent his time in; either training or clearing his mind. And you were right, after sliding the door open you were met with Yoriichi swinging his sword at some make shift mannequin, glancing your way as the sound of someone being inside his home alerted him. You went to speak but getting tackled to the ground by a 6’3 man wasn’t exactly your ideal position to start a conversation in. His eyes softened when he saw it was you, getting off and looked at you expectantly. You cleared your throat, all the things you practiced leaving your mind as everything became a blur and a faint ringing noise echoed in your head.

“I wanted to— no, I need to apologise for my actions and attitude towards you for the past couple off years. I’ve been nothing less than a nuisance and even though you were endlessly kind I pushed you away without reason. I was jealous of you, I think I made that very clear and I guess I was blinded by these emotions and lashed out that night. I’m terribly sorry and I understand if you want me out of your sight, just tell me if you don’t want me around I—”

Something warm was met with your lips, you immediately went silent before realising Yoriichi was kissing you. It was sweet and gentle, comforting even but you expected nothing less from this angel of a man. He cupped your cheek, pulling you closer with his other hand which was now on your waist and hummed. A feeling of sadness and wanting enveloped you once he pulled away, his maroon eyes staring gently into yours e/c ones. “Sorry that was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have done that without a warning or permission.” He said and looked away, the tips of his ears red. You embraced him, leaning your head onto his chest. “No, no don’t apologise, you have nothing to apologise for. I’m the one that should be apologising and I really meant everything I said.” You state and cling to him. “I was wrong for pushing you away, I’m sorry I said such hurtful things, I’m sorry for everything Yoriichi I really am.” He put his finger under your chin to make you look at him, his expression was still not readable but he looked more calm, like his usual self. “The things you said did hurt, and I probably won’t forget that easily but I am grateful for the apology. I love you Y/N I really do, but we should take things a bit more slow.” He stated and you nodded eagerly, smiling in relief. “I agree, taking things slow does sound nice and I’m.. new to this whole love thing.”

A low chuckle escaped his lips, a gentle smile gracing his features. “For starters, you could be a little less stubborn when people express their care for you.” He said and pulled you into another kiss, and you smiled. You promised yourself that you’d be better, a nice change you were more than happy to welcome with open arms. Maybe Yoriichi Tsugikuni wasn’t so infuriating after all.

[hearts4jean]

My take on the mischaracterisation of Jean Kirstein

The mischaracterisation of Jean Kirstein at the end of the Attack on Titan manga and the series as a whole has spread a wide discourse and controversy around this minor character. As he is not apart of the 3 main characters being Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman and Armin Arlert, Kirsteins upbringing and development has been severely left in the dark. Hajime Isayama’s widespread audience between both Asian and Western societies fail to take note of Kirstein’s character as he is not under the spotlight as much as other characters. This consists of the common belief that he should not be deemed to be a character that has had any development and continues to carry out the same ideals and linear thoughts and mindset; Kirstein’s relationship with Mikasa Ackerman and the sudden pairing of him and Pieck Finger.

Common misconceptions with Jean Kirstein are that fans are quick to assume how he has no type of character development all the way through from when he was first introduced at the first meeting with Keith Shadis as cadets to when he was last seen Post-Rumbling. What is made out to be fan’s perception in Jean’s character is the mess hall scene where a rivalry is introduced between Jaeger and Kirstein. Of course, the audience will side with Jaeger because he is the main character and has witnessed his ideals and trauma from the past few episodes. Kirstein, a mere outsider has not. Isayama intends to give a realistic view on Jaeger's goal of slaying every titan because the idea in itself sounds insane. The same idea would have been felt within other civilians of the past especially within the military, but it has never been done before; The people who have the same mindset as Kirstein have lost faith due to the everlasting duration of this massacre and deemed it not to be possible. This isn’t intended to be an attack against Jaeger, only because Kirstein does not wish to see him give his hopes up. That’s not saying Jean does not want the titans to be gone, in fact he wishes to live comfortably in the interior as a Military Police. For some reason this wish is seen as ‘selfish’ on Kirstein’s part by fans. Is it so bad that someone living amongst human eating monster's desires to live comfortably? Isayama erases the stereotype of Shonen characters desiring to be the saviour in Kirstein and even Annie Leonhart. It is not out of laziness; it is out of loss of faith and thinking rationally. This ideal does change after witnessing the mass casualties in Trost and loss of his implied to be ‘close friend’, Marco Bodt. From this, he creates a new belief for himself but still based off his old one. Kirstein believes every human deserves a chance at life whether they are an enemy or friend. This is why during the fight against Kenny’s squad, he hesitates to kill one of the members. This hesitation almost results in his and Arlert’s deaths. This should not be deemed to be an act of weakness, sentiment and empathy are the right terms to describe this. During Levi Squad’s evaluation of the battle fought, Kirstein speaks up about the idea of humans fighting humans and how it isn’t isn’t morally correct as he became a soldier to kill titans, to reduce the number of lost lives in the scarce number of humans left within the walls. Kirstein is written to be a symbol of realism which is not typically portrayed in Shonen characters as most tend to appear more driven by their environment (whilst in the moment) rather than logic, and instantly getting beaten by the antagonist or dilemma occuring. Kirstein is also shown to be showing this type of empathy during the Marley arc after witnessing Sasha Braus’ death. He ignored Floch Forester’s suggestion of throwing the culprits out of the airship as he still considered them to be children over the fact that they are enemies first. Evidence that confirms that Kirstein has changed as a person is during a conversation him and Forester hold together. “Go back to being the old Jean; Reckless, annoying and cheeky” In which Kirstein finds rude of him to say, showing that he has changed from his old self. Kirstein has drastically changed as a person from when he was a cadet to an ambassador from participating. in the “Battle of Heaven and Earth”; Fans must learn to understand this and to not only pay attention to the main character as minor characters like Kirstein also serve a purpose.

Kirstein’s relationship with Mikasa Ackerman has been a wide controversy for a while as it is hinted that Kirstein takes a small interest in Ackerman; however, this was when he was still young. The only circumstance where he serves a somewhat interest for Ackerman is during the scene in the mess hall where Ackerman walks past him. He is seen to be blushing and compliments her hair. However, this is purely just admiration, not romance. Romance requires two parties that have synchronised feelings about one another. This interaction does not mirror Kirstein’s current self as he barely even hit puberty during this period when this scene occurred. It’s inaccurate to think that someone who is 12 years old thinks and acts the same as they do when they are 19 years old. A counterargument to this is how the woman in Jean’s dream resembles Ackerman. That is correct, the woman did resemble Ackerman, however it was never confirmed that Kirstein’s spouse in said dream was Ackerman herself. If it was, isayama would have made it clear. Even so, that wasn’t the purpose behind the showing of this dream. This dream depicts how much Kirstein desires to live in a state of comfort whilst disaster is striking. Isayama was smart to display this as it shows a personal depiction of what one of the characters experiencing this war would be thinking. Kirstein’s relationship with Ackerman solely as her comrade who values her existence deeply. This is where audience’s perceptions of Kirstein start to turn to the wrong direction. Kirstein values all his comrades as well as Ackerman. Kirstein manages to keep his distance and is respectful about Ackerman’s relationship with Jaeger. Yes, it is hinted that he especially loves when a woman has long black hair from when he compliments Ackerman’s locks, a portrait he completed of a woman with black hair, and the fact that Jaeger made a comment mentioning Jean about when it was mentioned that people overseas would have dark hair. “Jean would like that.” The misconception of Ackerman marrying Kirstein at the end of the manga is the most widespread misinterpretation currently. It is not like Isayama to pair two characters all of a sudden without a longing build-up to where they admit their feelings for one another. Kirstein has always been respectful of Jaeger’s relationship with Ackerman and ensures to keep his distance; It is not like him to barge into Ackerman mourning her lost lover and sweeping her up on her feet again and taking the opportunity because “Jaeger is dead now”. The scene where he suggests to Ackerman that they must kill Jaeger is not for his own personal gain so his “competition” is gone, it was a genuine suggestion that would benefit all of humanity; This would make sense considering his nature. Isayama does not desire for us to wonder if Ackerman ended up with someone else or not because that completely misses the point of what he is trying to conclude. Even if Ackerman did supposedly move on, it was unlikely to be Kirstein as they already know each other too well and their goals and ambitions would clash constantly; it would not be a healthy relationship as Kirstein would be well aware that she still loves Jaeger. The fact that Ackerman kept the scarf till she was buried may sign that she did not move on at all because nothing can make her move on from the emotional strain Jaeger’s death had on her. Inevitably, Kirstein would not desire to be a burden to her, same as anyone else.

The fanon pairing of Kirstein and Pieck Finger is sudden and way out of character. Ever since Pieck has been introduced, there was a wide discussion of who she should be shipped with as what anime fans always do because a character not just live in peace without any love interest. Initially, a popular pairing was of her with Porco Galliard, but now that he is out of the picture; Pieck is singled-out again. Attention is brought upon Kirstein, and something drives them into shipping them together. This was not out of pure connection; PikuJean is merely based off the fact that they both meet each other standards. A Reddit user states: “Jean likes women with long black hair and Pieck likes men with beards”. Quite frankly, this sentence alone depicts how ignorant anime fans are to how relationships work because this is the only argument they have. Is that saying that you can instantly fall head over heels for someone only because they have a characteristic that you find attractive? there is a difference between being attracted to someone and loving someone. Grisha Jaeger has a beard too, why not pair him with Pieck? Kiyomi has long black hair, hey, she must be perfect for Kirstein! See how ridiculous it sounds? Another argument that PikuJean shippers have is the fact that they have each other to fill the void for their “lost lovers” since Kirstein is unable to be with Ackerman and Pieck experiencing the same with Galliard who is deceased. Does that not sound downright disrespectful on Kirstein’s part? It’s the same as with Ackerman, swooping Pieck off her feet now that her “love interest” is deceased? Kirstein is always seen as the “Plan B” in these types of situations. The only thing that is driven by the pairing of Pieck and Kirstein is convenience. There is no real connection. One of the pieces of “evidence” to this pairing is the fact that Kirstein and Pieck were working alongside each other during the Rumbling and the fact that Kirstein saved her at one point. Is that not what he is supposed to do? To make sure no one else dies. This counters with Kirstein’s objective and ideals to ensure no one else losses their life because of someone he’s known for 7 years. Isayama’s audience is extremely brainwashed from other types of media that display these romantic tropes which do not apply in such a complex story as this. Attack on Titans complexity is the reason why people are quick to misinform each other.

To conclude this, the mischaracterisation of Jean Kirstein from the Attack on Titan manga and the series as a whole has spread a wide discourse and controversy around him. This is because Hajime Isayama ensures to write his characters to be complex and not 1 dimensional which is common in minor characters of a Shonen setting. This consists of the common belief that he should not be deemed to be a character that has had any development and growth, his relationship with Mikasa Ackerman and the sudden pairing of him and Pieck Finger.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Ya know. I'm sick of seeing the Palestinian flag everywhere.

No for real. I'm tired of it. I've said this a number of times but fascists, communists and socialist, as well as anarchists, hate jews. And all of them believe the Nazi propaganda about them.

What's even more sad is watching people call for the death of an entire country because they view them as "White" when MOST jews in Israel are arguably not remotely white. This includes Arab and African Jews. But it's funny watching the Rhetoric of the KKK and Neo Nazi's show itself in the group I will now refer to as the FCSA.

"Jews control the world", "Jews are making everyone gay", Jews control all the money", "Jews are all rich and white". Yeah yeah yeah we've seen the Hitler talk for years. We know the bullshit you stupid fucks believe. War is bad but what is going on now is retaliation for a MASSACRE. Hamas and even the people of Gaza, those you call "Palestinians" are VERY specific about who they point the finger at too. So I hear nonstop the idea of "Colonizer" meanwhile this is what the Arab conquest looked like:

Interestingly, before this happened, Judah was a place. Israel in fact was mentioned in the Koran a number of times. Meaning it predated even the Muslim faith. Muhammad, was the purveyor of this faith. So if anything, the progressive should be on the side of Israel. BUT do you know why they aren't? Because in their view? Jews are "White Oppressors".

Now is killing civilians bad? Yes. Is war bad? Also yes. But sadly when it comes to war, civilians die. Except in this case, it's because Hamas are willing to do whatever it needs to, to both protect themselves, (including human shields) which also helps them spread propaganda that the Israeli military are hunting the people of Gaza for sport. See.....fog of war is a shit thing and everyone is going to have their own side. Me? Hamas is a radical sect of Islam. We see them when they do videos in LAVISH places with trinkets that would make the Vatican blush. Why? By stopping aid into Gaza, taking money from Iran, and then selling the aid for a HUGE markup, to get more rich.

What happened to eat the rich? OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RIGHT when they are brown or black it's fine if they are rich right? Because you arrogant fucks don't actually believe anything at all. And none of your views are consistent. Hamas admitted the "Death count" it was sending out was GROSSLY inflated and every single country took it at face value and has yet to correct it. And now, the leaders of Hamas are some of the single richest people on earth. What's more, they want more people from Gaza to die because it makes them (Hamas) look more oppressed. And makes Jews and Israel, look evil.

Then there are the anarchists who I love hearing from *Sarcasm* who want to abolish Israel, but will outright deny that Islam sees Judaism as a slight against their god. Believe me when I say that if Israel left the rest of the hostages to die or be tortured.....this conflict would not stop. Hamas would strike again and again, and anarchists would say, "Well that's just what Israel gets for existing. If they just gave it to the Arabs everything would be sunshine and rainbows". OH so Arabs get to own land and have a theocracy where they commit humans rights violations but Israel can't exist? Sounds to me that the issue you have is the Jewish homeland there sir. Oh and if you think the Jewish people would be safe? Nope. They'd have to escape to other places around the world, knowing it's only a matter of time before those other countries turn on them.

Like the Leftists in the West, who are hunting and harming/threatening Jews with ZERO ties to Israel over this conflict. Enough that a number of students got trapped in a library because a mob formed outside chanting "From the river to the sea". A phrase both created by Hamas and used as a genocidal chant.

Civilian deaths are bad. We get it. But why does NO ONE seem to give a fuck about the massacre? "Oh it was bad but~", No there is no BUT. IT WAS FUCKING AWFUL. And Hamas has stated it's goals over and over. Yet the cult of activists in the west will just dick suck actual terrorists so long as they aren't "White" or "White adjacent". It's even funnier when you consider shit like "Queers for Palestine". Bro they would stone you nearly to death, castrate you then throw you off a fucking building. The LAW in Gaza as enforced by Hamas, was 10 years MIN jail if you were caught being a homosexual. Assuming you lived to SEE jail.

And it actually gets more weird. Seeing the far right say, "Jews are helping create the gays" while the far left is saying "Jews HATE the gays and Islam actually loves them". Have you assholes READ the Koran? Or any related books of the faith? It expressly FORBIDS homosexuality if I recall, and sees it as a slight against Allah. And for slights against their god, they can and WILL kill you. (NOT ALL but enough of the countries that follow it that it's an issue).

My point is. I don't really have a dog in the fight of this conflict. It's just funny watching the FCSA all come together and pretend they don't hate Jews while TARGETING Jews. And I'm tired of influencers, Bands, Actors, and Activists pretending they know what's going on when all they are actually doing is swallowing Hamas propaganda whole. Again. A leader of Hamas has openly said they want more civilians to die because it makes them look more sympathetic. Many have tried to escape only to be blocked off by Hamas. And given their track record for propaganda I would not put it past them to kill an IDF member, take their uniform, and go execute some civilians and then use their Hamas journalists who were on GREAT terms with the UN to film it and create a fucking puff piece worshiping these terrorist fucks. Who DO NOT care about civility, rights, or peoples lives.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

My friend did not leave his house after over 12 hours to get his parent a needed medicine, passing the streets seeing countless of bodies on the sidelines of the streets, for people to say the masscare didn't happen.

My other friend did not go to 10 funerals last week for people to say the masscare didn't happen.

My TV isn't full of families begging to have their voice heard to return their familes from being held hostage by Hamas, for people to say that the kidnapped people are "fake news".

I didn't have a part of a rocket hitting the building next to mine (we're a total civilian area), while I squeezed into a bomb shelter with 14 more people, for people to think that "Hamas are freedom fighters".

People should have some shame for tearing down pictures of the hostages. And if someone so little as think "look how Hamas are treating and releasing people!" they forget the "who they kidnapped from their homes brutality!". Even more stupid - Hamas who they defend who tries to look more human (we know it's just PR) claim themselves to return the hostages "for humanitarian need".

Really. Some people are so stupid even with actual evidence from both sides in front of their eyes.

You're absolutely correct, and I can only say how deeply sorry I am for the trauma you and other Israelis are facing.

It's worse than stupidity. It's outright malice motivated solely by a deep hatred and contempt for Jews. That's the only reason they deny the massacre and downplay Hamas Nazism. If this were just a political dispute, nobody would hesitate to stand with Israel after October 7.

When the Russians committed war crimes against the Ukrainians in Bucha and other cities, millions condemned Russian soldiers. There was no debate. The fact that even worse terrorism against Jews has produced celebration, obfuscation, denial, and worse, equivocation, shows how many people worldwide are antisemitic.

[darkpetal16]

Can we see anything about the Jujutsu story? I'm so excited to see all the chaos!!

Sure thing! I'll take some scenes from chapter one. They haven't been edited yet and I don't have a beta so please forgive the typos / lack of description.

April 13th, 2000

Éclosion was a town of over 25,000 citizens in France. It was a suburb a few hours from Paris, and was known as one of the safer towns in France.

On April 13th, in the year 2000, the entire population of Éclosion instantly died from an “unknown” cause.

To most of the world, it was a bizarre tragedy, something to be marked down as an unsolved mystery for the history books. Each citizen had simultaneously suffocated within a few minutes of being exposed to… something.

Something that could not leave behind a physical trace of its existence yet was so overwhelming it simultaneously strangled over 25,000 living beings within Éclosion.

To a very small group of people, they knew the truth.

That town did not die by ordinary means, rather, from the sheer spiritual pressure exerted by a very dangerous being.

To that small group of people, they assumed it was the work of a curse.

Curses were created when cursed energy leaked from humans as a result of their human emotion. Cursed energy would build up in areas like sediment until it is strong enough to manifest a form. They were known to be lethal when left alone.

Populated locations such as schools and hospitals are hot spots for creating curses because many negative emotions were associated with those places. The same concept applies humanity's collective fear and hatred. An image of fear shared by the masses can create a powerful curse even if the subject was not real, such as famous monsters or ghosts. The negative emotions that humanity directed at that singular fear would cause it to manifest as a curse and in time… a cursed spirit.

Cursed spirits’ bodies are entirely made up of cursed energy--or spiritual energy. Their metaphysical existence made it impossible for normal humans to perceive or touch them.

Only a small group of humans were able to interact with cursed spirits, and in turn, combat them.

They were known as Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Jujutsu Sorcerers formed a society over the past thousands of years to work in the shadows to supress curses in an effort to protect humanity. All Jujutsu Sorcerers were trained in their youth at one of the two Jujutsu educational facilities in either Tokyo or Kyoto in Japan. At those facilities, they were taught how to utilize their own cursed energy in order to exorcise cursed spirits.

After graduating, alumni Sorcerers who remain aligned with the schools typically used one of the two facilities as a home base. Those facilities served as the cornerstone for the Jujutsu Sorcerer community. They mediated issues, assigned missions, and officially established a payroll for all their employed exorcists. The higher-ups were in charge of the schools and by extension all Jujutsu sorcerers.

Sorcerers would be dispatched wherever they found a gathering of cursed spirits. They were dispatched based on how strong they are in comparison to the spirit they face. The jujutsu society would rank spirits--and Sorcerers--like so:

Grade 4 - The weakest; a tire iron is plenty to deal with it.

Grade 3 - Slightly harder than Grade 4; handgun or something of similiar power recommended.

Semi-Grade 2

Grade 2 - An average Jujutsu sorcerer would not come out unscathed.

Semi-Grade 1

Grade 1 - “Even a tank might be insufficient.”

Special Grade 1

Special Grade - “Cluster bombs might work.”

For reasons not yet known to the Jujutsu community, curses and Sorcerers were most commonly found in Japan. While some could crop up in other countries, it was exceedingly rare.

That meant only a handful of Sorcerers were dispatched on rotation to monitor countries outside of Japan.

For example, France.

There were only three Sorcerorors stationed in France and they would handle the curses and Curse Users that appeared in France.

Three Sorcerers.

Who, at best, could handle a Grade 1 spirit.

But on April 13th that year something truly horrific happened.

A curse that had simultaneously slaughtered thousands of civilians within minutes of being born. Its mere presence could be felt by the Sorcerors not only in France, but in the surrounding countries across Europe.

It was only felt for five minutes, and then it vanished.

And so while the majority of the world was in a panicked frenzy over the mysterious massacre, the Jujutsu world was in a different kind of panic.

For a spirit that went beyond their measurement system had just been born… and they had no way of dealing with it.

.

<Skipping a scene here to avoid spoilers>

.

(Lilly - April 13th, 2000)

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Lilly stared in grim resignation at the hanging corpse. The woman didn’t even reach her thirties before throwing in the towel. The body swayed side by side, still warm. Still leaking. The woman hadn’t hung herself from far up enough to snap her neck, so she strangled slowly and painfully.

Dumbass, Lilly thought, finding it hard to scrounge up sympathy for the woman.

Woman could have saved herself the painful death if she just chugged sleeping pills with wine.

But people that desperate to flee reality rarely thought that rationally.

“Geh,” Lilly gasped, clutching at her head as another burst of pain shot through her. She was blinded, her vision going completely white at the influx of memories.

She fell to her knees, struggling to breathe from the intense pain. Her body quaked and trembled, unable to cope with the weight of her soul.

Too many memories. Too many lives. Too many deaths.

If she could forget then the body would carry on without needing her entire soul to be there. She could rest a bit more. She could sleep in death’s kind arms--

But, no.

Again.

Again.

She woke up again in a body too small and immature to handle the weight of her memories.

Lilly was what many referred to as an old soul.

It was not that her soul was older than the others around her, more so that her soul tended to retain the memories and knowledge of her previous lives.

Whereas death granted most souls a clean slate before their next life, Lilly was not permitted the same courtesy.

She was, mockingly, a Blessed being.

The pain subsided, the small body quivering.

How old am I now? Lilly wondered. Which world is this? Where--?

Panting, the old soul glanced around the house. Most of it looked like an average house on Earth from the early 2000s or late 1900s. None of it was in disarray so probably not apocalyptic.

Not completely normal though, Lilly thought, feeling how sensitive her spiritual energy was in her current body.

If was born in a powerless world, she wouldn’t have woken up. The fact that she woke up meant there was something about that world that made it special.

Maybe a Hero will be born here? Will a Story happen?

Her head throbbed again, her soul and energy aching from the strain of being awoken in a premature body. Lilly stumbled around the house, every so often feeling another spike of her insides burning.

It was not too dissimilar to swallowing lava. On top of the pain, she was nauseous, unbearably hot, and had significant difficulty in trying to focus on what was in front of her. Every step was a milestone. Her soul yearned to burst out of the fragile body, to preemptively rejoin death.

Not yet. I woke up here for a reason. There’s always a reason, Lilly thought. She fumbled around the house, searching for anything that could give her a better idea of where she was.

No computer. I think I see a landline phone, though, Lilly thought.

When she went to use it, however, only silence could be heard. She frowned, then hesitantly moved to flick on the lights.

Nothing happened.

Uwa… did I accidentally fry the tech trying to contain my energy? Lilly wanted to groan.

She hated being reborn in tech-sensitive worlds. If her spiritual energy was too overwhelmign for the technology, it became such a hassle. It meant she had to consciously filter, repress, and refine her energy any time she had to use it when around technology.

Whatever.

Time to find a neighbor then, she thought.

Stepping outside the house, Lilly found a bizarre scene. There was a mailman who collapsed right at the door, and judging from how still he was, she could tell he wasn’t breathing.

Lilly stared at the dead body. She looked up and found several crashed cards and more dead bodies.

Oh.

“Oops,” she said.

.

<Skipping several scenes & time skip>

.

March 8, 2001

Lilly was minding her own business the following day. Yuuta was swaddled and placed in a baby wrap carrier that Lilly tied around herself. She kept his head well supported, it rested in the crook of her neck.

It had been a while since she had repeatedly cast so many illusionary and compulsion spells. She knew it couldn’t be helped--she was in the body of a seven-year old, of course the adults wouldn’t take her too seriously.

She had finished authenticating his birth certificate, adoption papers, and was on her way to handle funeral arrangements for his mother. Lilly had already made a few tentative and brief ventures into the world to steal (shamelessly) steal money so she had cash on hand in case the woman hadn’t made prior plans for herself--which guessing by how optimistic she was, Lilly assumed the answer was no.

Yuuta was an easy crier, which made what would have been a thirty-minute errand into a two-hour errand since a lot of that time was spent soothing the infant.

Lilly could feel he had more spiritual energy inside him than some of the adults she had previously encountered, but it was still growing.

If her hunch was correct and he was a protagonist--or antagonist--then she figured his energy would only continue to grow.

Maybe I should start feeding him some of mine? Lilly pondered. If she doubled or tripled the raw power of someone important, what would Fate do? Would it increase the power levels of everyone else to match, or would it give away under her pressure?

She didn’t know the story--if there was one in that world--so she had no way of knowing what to anticipate. She could only catch the common signs and draw her own predictions from her past experiences.

Let’s find out, Lilly thought.

<Scenebreak>

Daiki Choki was had recently completed his mission to vanquish an A-Grade Curse at a nearby graveyard. It had gone much smoother than he anticipated, and the Jujutsu Sorcerer was looking forward to his pay.

As he was leaving the graveyard, however, he felt something… odd.

It was indescribable. A sensation he had never encountered.

Similar… very similar… to encountering a powerful Curse, but…

It was a Curse, yet it was not.

It clearly had a presence. He felt an uncomfortable heat wash over him, as if the thing was projecting an aura of fire, but it was not malicious. Curses were filled with malevolent bloodlust, but what he felt lacked that intensity.

It was still dangerous, that heat.

Perhaps not directly evil, but…

If he had to put it into words, it was as if he had stumbled across a forest fire. The fire held no ill-will, but it was still a dangerous force that if left unchecked would devour the entire forest.

Daiki did not feel that it was especially powerful, however, so he made his way over to it.

To his surprise, it took the form of a small girl holding something in a budle of cloth. She was entering the funeral parlor.

Daiki frowned. Curses had never looked human before.

Suppose there’s always a chance it’s possessing her corpse, Daiki thought. He may not have encountered that specific scenario before, but he didn’t see a reason why it couldn’t happen.

Curses weren’t human, but they were tricky by nature.

Daiki lingered outside the mortician’s office, wondering if he would need to follow after the curse. He hated fighting near civilians, but--

The Curse left, as if sensing something was wrong.

But that’s silly, thought Daiki.

It headed straight past the building, making its way to the graves behind. Daiki followed behind it, slowly pulling his gun.

The Curse stopped, turning around to face Daiki. Its eyes were a vibrant red.

“Why are you focusing on me?” it asked.

Oddly articulate for a curse, the Sorcerer thought, raising his gun and taking aim. He smirked. “Don’t worry about it, Curse.”

“Curse? What--?”

He fired, and then his whole world tilted upside down. He hadn’t even felt it happening, let alone seen it, but somehow his head had been chopped off his body the moment he pulled the trigger. The Curse, who had been several steps ahead of him, was suddenly crushing his gun in her bare hand, scowling at him.

“If I had let that gone off, you woulda woken him,” she scolded the decapitated head. “Rude.”

[re-diesirae]

13. Chris

Irritation was beyond what Chris was currently feeling. He and the Alpha team had been preparing to leave for Leon's location point when the second wave of B.O.W.s attacked the city. The emergency call required their immediate response, and the Alpha team's departure was pushed back, much to Chris dismay. His sister was somewhere in the middle of nowhere at the other side of the planet, most likely in great danger, and the damn mutants were preventing him from going to her rescue.

The second wave of attacks was on a bigger scale than the first one, but with the civilians evacuated, B.S.A.A had received permission to use any force necessary to stop the attackers. The city got engulfed in a sea of fire and destruction that brought him a bunch of bad memories, and what he hated the most was that his little sister would return to find her home destroyed.

"Fuck those terrorists," Barry's annoyed growl sounded somewhere close to his side. They had barricaded themselves in a building as they shot a horde of j'avo that had decided to open fire on them, "Can't I just throw them a grenade and end with their pathetic zombie asses?"

"More like mutant, insect asses, Barry," Jill corrected him.

"Who cares? It is all the same to me..."

"What's our status?" Chris groaned as he replaced the cartridge of his machine gun.

"Surrounded. These bastards won't give us a break," Jill replied.

"Have they ever done such a thing?" Barry spitted in annoyance.

"Get down...I'm using one of these."

Following a previous suggestion from Barry, Chris pulled off one of the grenade's security locks and threw it against the j'avos. The thing exploded, sending the foes flying in pieces.

"Well, that surely worked," Jill approved.

"Yeah, why didn't we do that from the beginning?" Barry growled.

Chris was about to articulate a response to that when the sizzling of his radio interrupted him in mid-sentence.

"HQ to Redfield, do you copy?"

"Redfield here."

"Redfield, a large scale B.O.W has been spotted north from your position. We sent the Betta team to size it, but we lost contact with them 10 minutes ago. We need you and Alpha Team to check on the situation."

"Understood. We will take a look. Redfield out."

Chris pushed his radio back into his utility belt and turned to the rest of the team. Barry looked at him and shook his head grumpily.

"So we get to do babysitting, huh?" Barry sighed, "Soldiers these days are useless."

"You sound like a cranky old man, Barry..." Jill teased.

"I'm stating a fact. I don't remember our men being such a joke when we started at this..."

"Not everyone can be like you or Chris, Barry."

"I should suggest some new training plans when this shit is over..."

" I am sure there are a lot of things we can do when this shit is over. For now, let's deal with this crap first. I still got to get Claire back."

"Relax, big brother. Claire is a tough cookie who knows how to take care of herself. The girl has survived three zombie apocalypses" Barry chuckled, "She might even be tougher than you despite being a girl."

"Hey, don't underestimate a woman," Jill smirked, faking an offended glare.

"Of course, I do not. Don't forget that I live surrounded by four. I am always on the losing side..."

Jill laughed, imagining how life in the Burton house probably was.

"Either way, Barry is right, Claire won't die so easily, she's a Redfield, and Redfields are hard to kill."

"And don't forget Kennedy is with her," Jill added.

"Yeah, I bet Kennedy will take care of her," Barry nodded, "So let's focus on cleaning up the city, shall we?"

"Huh," Jill snorted, "When Claire comes back and finds this mess, she won't be too happy with you, Chris."

Chris snorted. He could picture Claire's pissed look as she complained about him rushing to rescue her and leaving her beloved city at the mercy of a B.O.W. attack. Jill was right, Claire would be angry at him, and he knew better than to provoke his little sister's fury.

"Well then, let's clean up this city. If there is anything I fear in this world, that is Claire when she's angry."

He wasn't lying, and he found it amusing. He could face a war, survive a zombie apocalypse, fight horrifying mutants, and yet, Chris couldn't stand his sister's glare, tears, or anything she did to persuade him. Barry had always laughed, saying that he had a sister complex, but more than a sister complex, it was a soft spot for her. She was his baby-sister no matter how old she grew, and she had certain privileges that no one else in the world would ever get from him.

"Heh, I wonder how scary can the little Redfield be if she can make the almighty Chris Redfield scared., Barry laughed, "Is she that scary? I've never seen her mad."

"That's because she's the sort of woman who wouldn't get mad unless you did something truly despicable," Chris commented.

"Ow...and what exactly did you do to anger her?" Jill asked curiously.

"I am her brother. I am an exception. She always gets mad at me at the minimal thing," he said as he shot a couple of mutated j'avos that had been chasing them.

"So, you get the privilege to feel her anger for small things," Barry asked, shooting another group of infected, "I don't envy you at all, pal, and wait till you get married. Your wife will team up with Claire and make you miserable. I know what I tell you. When my girls team up against me, it is worse than fighting off zombies."

Chris wondered about that. He couldn't imagine how bad that would be, and he heard Jill amused laugh.

"This might be the first time I'll see Chris scared at all."

The two soldiers broke into a fit of laughter, and Chris rolled his eyes.

"You two….stop it already." Chris growled grumpily, "Focus on the mission!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood," Barry said with a chuckle," "I think this is the place," Jill said, checking her intel.

Chris looked around. The place was deadly quiet, and there were no signs of the soldiers or zombies. He signaled Jill and Barry to be alert, and both of them nodded as they took a position with their weapons ready. Chris walked into the place, looking around with his gun raised. So far, there were no signs of the B.O.W., but he noticed something lying a couple of feet from him.

"Redfield here. I've found the members of Team Betta. The situation is bad. I'll look for survivors."

"Understood, be careful, team Alpha."

Chris walked cautiously around the bodies, feeling disgusted. It looked like a slaughterhouse; something had torn the soldiers into pieces, and their body parts laid scattered all over the place. It was a massacre and a horrendous one. Chris was sad to say it, but he doubted that there were any survivors from Team Betta.

"Chris, watch out!" Jill's voice shouted out of sudden.

Chris turned around in time to dodge a reddish blur that jumped over him. The man rolled over his side and got back up with his gun raised. He shot the B.O.W. that had just attacked him, and he could hear Barry and Jill shooting, too.

"Watch out! I think this thing might be the one who slaughtered the whole Betta team."

The creature roared and vanished into the surrounding darkness.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Barry growled.

"I have no idea," Chris said, reloading his gun, "but I don't think it is good news. Alpha Team to HQ, do you copy?"

"This is HQ. We hear you, Alpha Team."

"We have a situation," Chris said, aiming his gun. He could hear something moving around them, but he could not see it. "Unknown B.O.W. Most-likely, the one responsible for Betta Team's slaughter. Requesting back-up."

"Copied. Hang on in there, Alpha team."

There was a screech, and the red blur jumped out of the shadows, trying to tackle them. The trio rolled over and evaded it.

"What the fuck?" Barry said, shooting.

Chris had no idea what it was, either. The creature in front of them was something they had never encountered before. It looked like a giant meaty caterpillar with four long paws that ended in curling tentacles. There was a long slash on its face, filled by long yellowish fangs. The drool was dripping disgustingly from it. The three of them were shooting endless at it as the thing jumped from a wall to the other, roaring.

The trio rolled over the ground dodging the whipping tentacles. The creature, despite lacking eyes, was easily tracking their movements. Chris had showered the meaty body with a wave of bullets, but the thing didn't seem to be affected. The creature roared once more, showing the second row of yellow fangs and a bifid black tongue.

"What an ugly face. Makes me wanna punch it."

"You are welcome to blow it up, Barry," Jill said.

"Heh..thought you'd never say it."

Barry pulled out one of his grenades and threw it into the B.O.W. The first grenade barely missed the creature, but the explosion effect managed to hurt it and throw it on the ground. Taking advantage of its vulnerable position, Barry threw a second grenade directly at it as Jill and Chris kept shooting at it. The explosion raised an intense flame, and when the fumes had dissipated, the monster laid dead and half scorched.

"Well, there you have it. Nothing can do against a well-aimed grenade... "

"What the hell is this thing?" Jill said with a disgusted look.

"Guess it is Neo-Umbrella's new toy, " Chris said, kicking the corpse to take a look. "Team Alpha here. We took down the B.O.W that attacked Betta Team. It's been taken care of, but we found no survivors."

"Those are unfortunate news. Understood, team Alpha. Return to HQ, let clean-up to the back-up team. You've received new additional orders."

"What new orders, sir? If I may ask..." Jill said, looking at Chris with a frown.

"We've received intel from a member from the F.O.S, concerning the location of agent Kennedy. The place might be testing grounds for developing B.O.W.s"

"Just great, another Santa's factory of B.O.W." Barry mumbled bitterly. Chris knew the man was still bothered by what had happened to his daughter two years ago. Heck, he was mad, too. They had taken Claire once, and they had taken her again and right under his nose. Those fucking bastards would have to pay.

"You've been ordered to rescue and investigate the place. An aircraft is waiting for you at the power building. You are to depart asap."

"Understood. We are on our way."

Chris looked at his companions. His face twisted in an angry look. Those damned terrorists would pay if they touched a single hair of his sister, and he wasn't kidding.

"Leon...Claire. We are coming for you."

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

[silverselfshippingchaos]

Ash goes to Edenhall to find Yaag during the destruction of Cocoon. Warnings for light swearing, injury and blood, mentions and discussion of death, and an overall glum mood. Also some endgame spoilers for the first FF13 game.

"What the hell..." Ash found herself whispering as she looks down at the sight below her. From her airbike, she could see the full view of Eden. Or, well, what was going to be left of Eden, that is.

Her eyes went wide in horror at all the Pulse beasts, the crushed buildings, the civilians crying for help. This is horrible...

Too much had happened too fast, and she hadn't quite had a chance to process it all. But it finally hit her. Eden was being destroyed. This was likely the end of Cocoon.

She had gotten the report of Cid Raines being dead not too long back, and it still felt surreal. The idea of him once being a Cocoon l'Cie was just as jarring. Him being appointed to Primarch too.

l'Cie or not... He was my friend. And now he's gone.

All she could hope for now was her family and Yaag making it out alright, but one of those seemed a lot more likely than the other. Yaag had left in the Proudclad, hoping to protect Edenhall all by himself. That idiot...

PSICOM soldiers were still pursuing the Pulse l'CIe after their appearance earlier that night, but she was not a PSICOM soldier. She had a different goal. She was going to find Yaag and make sure that she didn't lose anyone else.

“I guess Edenhall is my best bet...” She takes a deep breath and flies towards the heart of the city on her airbike.

~~~~~~

Ash never had much experience with on-field work. Or any of this. She wasn't a soldier, and nor did she want to be, but she did help PSICOM. She helped them defend Cocoon, and even helped with the Purge. Maybe not personally with the weapons, but it was some of her intel that led to the Pulse l'Cie hunts. Who was to say that she wasn’t as bloodstained as the soldiers themselves?

Edenhall, the heart of Cocoon, was off-limits to the public, save for some higher-up officials. She had never gotten a chance to go, but she knew that Yaag had multiple times to meet with the Primarch. Even images of the inside weren't revealed to the people. The Sanctum, in their own words (Cid had given her the intel), saw the people as nothing more than cattle.

She was grateful to the fal'Cie for everything they had provided her. A comfortable home, warm food everyday, an education in multiple fields, everything she considered to be "hers" was all because of them. The education system of Cocoon worked in such a way where anybody could pursue their areas of interest and have it fully paid for, and that only helped cultivate her passion for learning.

It was difficult for her to open her eyes to the truth. Even now, there were some blank holes, but what she had gathered was that the fal'Cie weren't right. Whatever happened to humanity, even if it was their downfall, should be all because of humanity. Not some self-proclaimed god with an ego as large as Cocoon itself.

She had felt this way for many years, but meeting with the Cavalry, learning who they really are, and talking to Yaag when he's not working had only solidified her opinion. Yaag had believed that perhaps the fal'Cie's rule would be best for the present and future prosperity of Cocoon, that maybe the Primarch wasn't entirely horrible. Somebody in his position couldn't afford to have doubts.

After all, he was the officer in charge of orchestrating the Purge, the massacre of all those innocent people in the name of Cocoon's peace and betterment. It was then when his hesitation to oh-so blindly follow the fal'Cie grew.

Ash flew into the building through a large hole in the roof, maybe caused by some kind of winged monster. It's not that she couldn't fight, she just didn't have much experience, so hopefully she could avoid confrontation.

Hopping off of her bike and grabbing her bag of essentials, she runs deeper into the building. It was large, and she couldn't help but feel small. Her footsteps echoed in empty halls, now cluttered with debris and things of the such.

Near the pale walls, however, she spots crystals. She stops, slowly approaching it. "It's... It's dead." And a Cie'th, no less. She shakes her head, stepping away. She had to keep going. She needed to find Yaag. She had already lost a lot, and she wasn't going to lose him too.

When a l'Cie, a human chosen by a fal'Cie, failed to fulfill their Focus before their brand reaches stage 13 and is fully developed, they're done for. They turn into a Cie'th monster and are forced to roam the world while wallowing in their own failure. If they did fulfill their Focus, then they'd slumber eternally as a crystal. Although Ash had heard things of crystalized l'Cie coming back to life hundreds of years later. Regardless, it seemed to be a lose-lose situation.

She thought back to Cid. And the Cavalry. His Cavalry. She had always agreed with their cause, and it would be a lie to say that she hadn't assisted them sometimes. Especially before the Purge. They were all a team back then.

Perhaps not to the point of betraying PSICOM, but she a small part of her couldn't help but wish to see them prevail. What could be better than a free Cocoon? She was sure that Yaag has caught on, but he didn't seem to say much. From what she had gathered, they were old friends. Apparently they went to school together.

Ash always liked seeing Yaag as happy as he was when he was with Cid. Well, happy was a questionable term. Cid always had a way of getting under Yaag's skin, and Ash found it somewhat entertaining. Yaag wasn't the easily flustered type, so Cid's slight teasing was always a blast in her eyes.

Cid was a l'Cie, made one by Barthandelous. Or something. The details were fuzzy. The truth had only come out recently. They all thought he was human. He must have felt terrible and filled with nothing but pure dread. He had both the power and the supplies to make his dream of a free Cocoon reality, but... He couldn't do that when he was just another slave.

"Rest well, my friend." Ash mutters, shaking her head. No use dwelling on what's done.

This is a new beginning. I need to move on.

As Ash ran through seemingly endless grand halls, she saw more and more Cie'th. "There were never this many l'Cie. Only the six... And Raines. But he's done for." She added with a sigh. "So who could all these people be? The only people tasked here were that one PSICOM elite squad..."

She gasps in horror as realization hit her.

"No..."

No, no, no, no, no... Please no...

She looks at her hands and notices how much they're trembling. She tries to steady her breathing. "The only ones with the power to do this are the fal'Cie, but they wouldn't. They wouldn't..." She tried to tell herself. But they would, and she knew that well. She just didn't want to believe it. She'd known that for so long, but this was horrific.

"Yaag... This didn't happen to him, too... Right..?"

She gulps, taking a deep breath. And let's hope that this doesn't happen to me either.

Ash turns around to keep moving, but abruptly stops upon hearing static in her PSICOM issued communication device. I thought communication lines were done for... Thank goodness.

"This is... This is PSICOM Director Rosch.." The voice rasped out, and she gasped. Yaag! He's alive!

"Attention all PSICOM and Guardian Corps units." He took a shaky breath, "Suspend l'Cie operations. I repeat, suspend l'Cie operations. All units should focus their efforts on evacuating the civilian population." He pauses.

Ash's eyes go wide at the order.

"I do not issue this order as an absolute. You are free... to make the choice." He seemed to rush the last part, as if it pained him to even speak. All she heard after that was something falling to the ground. And then more static.

"Director? Yaag? Please, come in!" She called, but nothing came through.

Shit.

~~~~~~

"Stay alive. We'll see you when it's over." Is all the blond l'Cie, (Snow Villiers, if Yaag's memory proved correct) said before leaving.

Yaag clutches his side, and he can feel the blood soaking into the black leather of his clothes. His ears rang, the pain in his head nearly unbearable. It all hurt so much. His left leg was numb. He would move it, perhaps adjust himself into a more comfortable position, but he knew that would be more than a stupid idea and would only cause him more pain.

All he could see was the pale walls of the hall, blurred and unfocused. These halls where he had walked so many times. All in the name of protecting Cocoon.

Yaag thought back to Ash. She would like it here, wouldn't she? Perhaps she wouldn't be too great a fan of Sanctum business, though. He chuckles, a bitter and raspy noise. That was always his department. She had often expressed how the military, let alone the Sanctum was not for her. Funny, considering how things ended.

He would be leaving her behind, but what could he do? He was helpless, bleeding out onto the floor of Edenhall. He drank his last potion in the battle against the l'Cie. Shockingly, they spared his life. But from his current situation, he realized that he was probably going to die anyway.

Yaag thought back to his mother and father. His father was PSICOM, through and through. Just like Yaag. His mother was Guardian Corps, but she had perished in battle when he was a teenager. He remembers the day vividly.

The rivalry between PSICOM and GC was always intense, and he had heard that his parents were no exception. His father had once spoke about how he and his wife absolutely despised each other at first. Clearly that didn't last long.

Yaag thought back to the way his father seemed to light up when speaking about his mother. "You have your mother's eyes..." A rare look for a man known for his serious demeanor. Ash had often talked about how serious and intimidating Yaag could be, too. Perhaps it ran in the family?

How did he even end up here...? He had always wanted to join PSICOM, and not just to follow in the footsteps of his hero, his father. He wanted to protect people. Ever since he was young, he had always feared the fal'Cie. Humanity was ruled by them, and it frightened him. Humans such as himself were so small and pathetic in their hands.

It made him feel less small, telling himself that he's fighting for the people rather than the fal'Cie. He remembers the words he uttered to himself before what he assumed would be his final battle. "This is for humanity. Nothing else."

The main purpose of the PSICOM division of the Sanctum military was to fight threats from Pulse. It was what they specialized in. Yaag knew that he could do all his drills in his sleep, but it turns out that it still wasn't enough.

He didn't want to stop the Pulse l'Cie. Of course, he didn't have a choice. They were a threat from Pulse, after all. So the responsibility of seeing them through to their executions fell onto his shoulders.

He felt strongly about wanting to stop them at first. It was what the people desired, but it seemed that his views had grown over time. He realized that perhaps he was on the wrong path all along. Everything he used to feel so strong about then just felt stupid now.

But all of his doubts, his slight hesitation, none of it stopped him from going through with the Purge orders. None of it stopped him from having all those civilians murdered in cold blood because of him.

A soldier's duty was to follow through with their orders regardless of what their thoughts, and he understood that. A pawn of the Sanctum, a pawn of the fal'Cie. That's all he was. All the fear he had as a boy came flooding back.

He can feel the blood trickling down his forehead. "This is... my punishment, isn't it?" He gasps for air, "Very well,"

After everything he had done, all the blood spilt under his orders, this is what he deserved. He had lived fighting for Cocoon, and would die having fought for it until the bitter end, even if it was all a lie. He knew since the very beginning that it was all fake. But he had fought for it regardless. All he did was for the people.

Or so he told himself.

He smiles. "I accept it..."

And with that, Yaag lost track of time, dizzy vision turning to black.

~~~~~

Every single one of the hallways, all once illuminated by Phoenix through large, glass ceilings, seemed to lead to one door. It was so quiet. It felt easy to ignore the absolute apocalypse happening just outside, all within the city Cocoon proudly called its finest. She looked up at the door, and then back down again. If not here, then...

By her foot is another Cie'th, but this one still seems to be alive. Barely, with it's body half crushed by a pillar, but it was reaching to her. She crouches down, gently touching the cold crystal of its body, "... You're hurting, aren't you?"

She takes a closer look at the beast, and within all the crystal was the face of a soldier, twisted and contorted with pain. She knew quite the handful of PSICOM soldiers since she was always hoping to make new friends, and found this face to be quite familiar. No...

Her heart ached, so she figured that maybe her best bet was to put it out of its misery. If she were to help it, there was nothing it could do to become human again.

All of the Cie'th bodies she had seen throughout Edenhall weren't branded. They were made Cie'th by the fal'Cie by not giving them a Focus, yet still making them l'Cie. That's cruel and disgusting. It was said that Cie'th didn't think nor feel, but she didn't think that was the case. This one seemed sad and alone.

She reaches for her blade. "I'm so sorry."

~~~~~~

Putting her blade away, she gently pushes open the doors. Small chunks of white had been floating through the air ever since the portals from Pulse had opened, but the effect seemed to be heightened as she traveled deeper within the building.

As she pushes the double-doors open, she's met with a cloud of black smoke. She coughs, but pushes through regardless. All of the rooms she had been to so far had been huge, but this one was much bigger than the rest. Intricate patterns ran across the floor, which seemed to be a bridge above the ground floor, and in the center was the ruins of a huge machine.

It was the Proudclad, Yaag's personal airship and normally his weapon of choice aside from his trusty sword. Destroyed, it was barely recognizable. The black smoke was coming from it.

Ash's eyes drift over to a body laying face-down next to it. She could recognize that black uniform from a mile away.

Before she had a chance to register her own thoughts, she was sprinting towards him. She crouches down, gently turning him around so she could see his face.

"Yaag!"

He was unconscious, his face covered in his own blood. His uniform was in tatters, pristine and dark fabric covered in dirt and grime and blood and god-knows-what.

For a moment, Ash feared that she was too late, but he was still breathing. Barely. His side was drenched in his own blood, and Ash stared at her now-red hand in horror.

"Oh my..." She was already on-edge, but seeing him like this broke her heart. What if she hadn't have found him? Then what?

Ash digs through her bag, "I know I have Phoenix Down somewhere..." She rummages through the inner pockets and triumphantly pulls out a tuft of Phoenix Down. First-aid wasn't her expertise, but hopefully she could wing it.

(Get it? Wing it?)

Perhaps Ash would have laughed if she wasn't freaking out. She holds the glowing feathers to his body, and was relieved to see that they had worked, fading into thin air. Legend had it that the feathers of a phoenix allowed a lost fall to be returned to its body, and she had thanked her past self for buying some extra from her local terminal.

In her arms, Yaag stirred. Ash let out a sigh of relief and gently brushed his bangs out of his face. She pulled out a spare cloth and began dabbing at the wound on his forehead, wiping away all the blood.

Yaag groans, silvery eyes fluttering open. "Ash?" His own voice sounded foreign to him, and all he remembered was being ready to die after a hard-fought battle against the l'Cie and even his own soldiers, now turned Cie'th.

"Yeah. You're not getting rid of me that easily." She whispers, giving him a gentle smile. He tries to push himself up into a sitting position, but he found himself clutching his side and unable to move his left leg.

"Damnit."

Ash helps him up, propping him up against the remains of his own ship.

"My... My apologies... You shouldn't have to see me like this.." He says through gritted teeth, but Ash places a finger to his lip. "Nope. None of that. I'm not taking any of it. I'm here to take care of you and get you to safety."

"You... You always have been there to save me. Thank you." Yaag whispers. It's all he can manage, and Ash leans forward, giving him a small kiss on the scar on his forehead. That had always been her favorite spot to kiss him, and even though he was barely alive, he still found his heart fluttering.

That's right. She had been there for him when he had gotten shot in Palumpolum as well. It seemed like ages ago, but it truly wasn't that long ago. So much had happened so fast.

"I'm just doing my job. Don't try to force yourself to talk, okay? You're really beat up right now." Her hands go to take off his coat, but she stops, "May I?"

Yaag nods, and she starts by unlatching all the straps that ran across his chest before undoing the buttons on the coat below, slipping it off his shoulders. She was careful to not accidentally hurt him. That was the last thing she needed right now.

His bare chest is no new sight to her. In fact, it's one of Ash's favorite sights. Firm muscle carved by endless battle experience, long-healed battle scars, the wounds from the gunshots in Palumpolum. But even so, Ash gulps at the sight of the wound on his side and the bruises running across his body. “They really did a number on you, huh?” And Yaag couldn’t help but agree.

Ash never was fond of the sight of injury, and that was made even more clear by how much her hands shook as she tended to his injuries. . Yaag shakes his head (or at least, tries to), "You don't need to. Just allow me." He tries reaching for the cloth, but his hands tremble and it pains him to even move. Pathetic...

"You are in no state to take care of yourself right now. I'll be fine. Just, uh, focus on staying awake for me, okay?" Ash pulls out a few more supplies from her bag. Not only did she try to stay prepared for any possible situation, but she had become close friends with many of Yaag's soldiers, and she knew just how dangerous their jobs could get, so she tried to carry extra healing supplies.

She starts tending to his wounds as best she can. She's not great, not by a long shot, and her constantly squirming at the sight and lack of experience only made it more difficult, but she tied a knot in the bandages she wrapped around him and buttoned his coat back up.

Yaag's vision shakes, but he tries to keep his breathing steady. Ash pulls out a flask and pops it open, holding it to Yaag's mouth. "Drink it. It's a spare potion."

Yaag nods and gulps the liquid down. He can already feel himself becoming more awake at the sweet taste. He feels guilty that she has to see him in such a pathetic state, but can't help but feel grateful nonetheless. She had saved him. Again. She truly is my everything, isn't she?

"Do you think you can walk?" She asks, and Yaag takes a look at his good leg. "I think I can manage."

"Alright. I'll be right back, okay? Gonna go grab my bike. It was a long walk here." Ash gives him a smile, and he tries to smile back for her as best he can. She runs out of the room, and comes back only a minute or two later. She's panting, but hops off of her airbike and back next to him.

Yaag attempts to push himself up from the ground, but he pathetically crumbles back down like a sack of rocks. He mentally curses himself. He couldn't afford to be this weak.

Ash wraps an arm around his shoulders, and he's thankful for the support. He's a good head taller than her, so the position was a bit awkward, but he managed to pull himself back to his feet thanks to her help.

"We're almost there, Yaag..." She says, helping him limp over to the bike. Helping him onto the seat, Ash then sits down. "You doing alright?" She asks.

The numbing of the potion had begun to wear off, and Yaag found himself unbearably tired. But he needed to stay awake. He was pretty sure his leg was broken, and clearly his left arm was not in its best state either. His head hurt. Ah, probably a concussion, He softly groans, resting his head on Ash's shoulder.

"Will be... alright. But what of my... my soldiers?"

"Really is always about work with you, huh?" She chuckles, "They're working on relocating the populace to Gran Pulse, just like you ordered."

Yaag nods.

"But you can worry about all that later. Just stay awake. Some of your - No, our - people set up a medical camp nearby." She puts her hands onto the handles of the bike and begins driving, her pace slow.

Ash can feel Yaag's gentle breathing on her neck, and she's glad. She's so glad. "I love you a lot, you know."

"... love you too." He mutters, "Was... prepared to die... Thank you."

Ash smiles. "I don't want to lose you. Ever." She stops, just feeling the weight of his body against her, his gentle breathing tickling her neck, "Save your strength though."

"Mhm..."

Ash kept driving, but she always made her to check on him every once in a while.

"...'alk to me." Yaag whispers.

"What was that, my dear? Did you say something?"

"Talk to me. I want to... hear your voice... Need to stay awake."

"Oh, of course!"

~~~~~~

Ash finishes her story about some of her school days just as they arrive at the camp. She opted for a fun-filled story instead of their current events, not wanting to overwhelm him. He chuckles. I could listen to her all day...

"Alright. We're here." Ash parks her airbike, stepping back onto the ground before reaching for Yaag, helping him down as well. He held her as support, trying to keep his weight on his good leg.

Ash clears her throat, her tone firming as she addresses the PSICOM team, "Hey, everybody." She puts the hand she wasn't using to support Yaag up, "It's Ash. I've got Director Rosch with me, and he's not looking good. Do your thing."

Yaag gives the medics a firm nod as they carry him away into a tent, and Ash watches him leave before taking a deep breath. Welp, no time to rest.

"Hey, Ash." Says one of the soldiers standing guard around the area. Monster attacks would be more frequent now that they didn't have the luxury of being protected by the fal'Cie.

"Heya!" She grins at him, grabbing one of the spare guns they kept around, "I'm going to go help some of the people near the relocation area now. Look after the Director."

"Stay safe, Ash. The Director'll rip me apart of anything happened to ya." The soldier laughed, "And he's already intimidating enough as is."

Ash chuckles, thinking back to when she first met Yaag. It was hard to even stand in his presence without feeling absolutely terrified. They’d come a long way since then.

"No kidding." After giving the soldier a friendly high-five, she turns around. "See you!"

Ash leaves to return to her trusty bike. "I'm no soldier, but it's my responsibility to help the people." She says to herself as she sits down, grabbing her keys.

Regardless of what happened, she knew that she had to do the right thing.

[stargazersastronomy]

Social Change & Protest Astrology

“I can't get it out of my mind how you were left to bleed Was it how you dressed? Or how you act? I can't believe how they could act so violently, without regret. Well, we will not forget”

-- ‘We are the Others‘ by Delain

I normally don’t make posts like this, posts that deal with violence or politics. These subjects are similar to religion and sexuality, etc. There are so many different perspectives that you can never know what backlash, if any, will happen because of your words. However, people George Floyd’s murder, the protests, everything has effected the world. I haven’t felt this affected by murders since Brian Deneke’s and Sophie Lancaster’s deaths. Like Deneke and Lancaster, I still hear Floyd’s pleas for  his life, for his mother, for mercy echoing in my mind. My imagination could never do his suffering justice; I keep imagining the pain Floyd suffered as his neck was crushed by Derek Chauvin’s knee.  I’m someone who believes that Hell is impermanent – and that humans’ depictions of Hell originate from our artists and poets than our holy books – but I hope Chauvin burns in whatever Hell he’s sent to. Even if that hell is life imprisonment.

Similar to Deneke and Lancaster, we’ve heard the same statements: that Floyd was killed for his differences. While that is partially correct, killed because he was different, shifts blame from the murderers to the victim. Statements like these imply that if Deneke hadn’t be Punk, Lancaster hadn’t been Goth, and Floyd hadn’t been Black, they would not have been killed. Yes, the fact that they were all minorities in some way is part of our discourse of it; their attackers – and society’s intolerance – of them was the cause of their deaths. Dustin, the jock, mowed Deneke down with his car. The five boys who pummels Lancaster and her boyfriend killed Lancaster. And it was Chauvin that suffocated Floyd to death. These seven would have gone after anyone different and weaker from them, they chose the easiest targets.

In each case the murders were unplanned, random, that the victims happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But with the violent acts that happened before then – Deneke and his friends beaten by the Jocks, there were beatings against others before Lancaster was killed, and racial deaths have only been increasing here in the States. Signs were there and without intervention of some kind, Floyd’s, Deneke’s, and Lancaster’s deaths were inevitable. No one knew when or to whom these tragedies would happen to, but something like this would.

Anyway, this has been a very long prelude to introduce my point to all this. When these things happen I like to do a horoscope on the event in order to understand it, aka electional/event astrology. Last time I looked up this chart I was reading an event horoscope about the Port Arthur Massacre, so I decided to try my hand at this type of astrology. Now, I’ll probably cast a horoscope for Sohpie Lancaster and Brian Deneke, but for know this chart will focus on George Floyd’s Death, its impact, and the Lafayette Square Protest earlier this week. Before I start this reading, just know I use the Whole Sign house system and not Placidus. Lastly, Floyd was a person and astrology can’t explain away everything, so I’m going to treat him with the dignity he deserves.

Whenever one sees horrific violence and mass uproars in astrology, Mars and Pluto are the prominent players in the horoscope. This isn’t surprising because Pluto is a higher octave of Mars (like Neptune is to Venus, and Uranus to Saturn) and they’re dignified in Aries and Scorpio. Mars is Ares, it is raw masculinity, sexuality, conquest, war, anger, passion. Pluto, aka Hades, Greek God of the Dead, is all that Mars is with one difference. Pluto bides its time waiting for the opportune moment unlike Mars that is impatient and impulsive. In these charts we expect Gemini to be one the dominant signs because it’s Gemini season, Sagittarius because that’s Floyd’s death ascendant (rising sign), and Scorpio because that the protest’s ascendant. However, I did not expect Hades Moon[*1] to be so important here. More on that later.

Gemini Sun (7/Descendant) squared Pisces Mars (4/IC)

Sun is the ego, who we are as an individual. Mars is our drive, its our fighting words. Harsh aspects like oppositions and squares are blessings in disguises because if one can work through the initial turbulence, this person is unstoppable. How this power is often abused. Floyd begs Chauvin for mercy but his words (Gemini/third house) are going unheard. Witnesses are telling Chauvin to stop but they’re ignored and Chauvin’s fellow coworkers are silent.

For now, I’ll give the other cops the benefit of the doubt. Bystanders tend to fall under three camps: one, the bystanders that side with the aggressor, two, the bystanders that sympathize with the victim but are too frightened to confront the bully. Three, perhaps the most insidious, the bystanders that are apathetic to both sides. No matter which camp they fall into they’re cowards and unfortunately the law doesn’t punish inaction.

Pisces is exalted in Venus (Aphrodite) and while it rather not be situated in Mars, Pisces realizes Mars (Ares) is the gender-flipped equivalent of Venus.  Pisces Mars is the seafarer, it is Captain Ishamal, Captain Nemo, the old man from The Old Man and the Sea. And Mars in conflict with the sun is causing a storm.  Instead of noble victory, Mars uses its strength to dominate. Look at the videos, Chauvin’s photo during the scene. His semi-slouched posture indicates nonchalance and with his hands stuffed in his pockets say that he has nothing to hide. How he eyes the spectators is that of confusing and superiority. They’re saying, “Yeah, I’m boring my knee into this innocent man. And? You guys can’t do anything.” He’s also forcing his will on Floyd. Aphrodite is definitely not happy being thrust into war.

Gemini Venus (7th House) squared Pisces Neptune (4th House)

I mentioned how the generational planets are the higher octaves of the primar planets. Venus is the Greek love Eros while Neptune is Agape, or universal love. Neptune is also illusion. American cops are often placed on pedestals and absolved of their actions, but Venus here is breaking the American people’s disillusions of that. Chauvin is abusing his authority murdering an innocent man in public, no one can ignore this power imbalance now.  The crowd that witnessed this atrocity, the millions more worldwide that saw this televised and online can’t erase this from their minds. We’re seeing that the Other (7th House) has no differences from us, that Floyd is not different from us. Pisces Neptune is communicating to us to show love and compassion to our fellow man. Later, in Washington DC Rahul Dubey offered his home to approximately 60 protesters overnight, so they’d remain safe from the police. When interviewed Dubey said what he did wasn’t a choice, it was the right thing to do.

Chauvin showed no kindness, and people are calling him out on this. None of the people in the crowd can do anything, all they can do is beg and shout from the sidelines to help Floyd. This didn’t help Floyd, and this is of little consolation because he died, but people cared enough to record the cops’ crime. They cared enough to demand the cops help Floyd. It feels inadequate at the time, it won’t resurrect him. At least he heard some kindness and concern in the voices of others.  

Cancer Moon (8th House) squared Taurus Uranus (6th House)

A Hades Moon is any moon connection to Pluto and/or the eighth house. Whenever the moon is connected to the generational planets – specifically Saturn and Pluto – there’s a war between feminine, nurturing energy and masculine, destroying energy. Saturn freezes emotions whether it’s trined or opposed the Moon. Pluto when aspected to the moon gives the moon psychic, explosive energy. Moon is dignified in Cancer which gives it added strength, however, it’s in the eighth house of death weakening it. “From tomb of the womb, to womb of the tomb.” (Hero of a Thousand Faces) Women give life and we live with the knowledge that life will be taken away. With Floyd’s last breaths he says that he “can’t breathe” and calls out “mama.” How many heartstrings were tugged at? How many mothers, girlfriends, daughters, embraced their children and significant others when they heard this?

Taurus is Eve from the Garden of Eden. Taurus craves stability and sensuality which is why it is fallen in Uranus. Uranus uproots Taurus’ stability to initiate change but note where Uranus; it’s in the house of work and health (6th house). Floyd’s life was taken by men who swore oaths to serve and protect. Chauvin’s coworkers should have done their duty (Virgo/6th house) and protected Floyd from one of their own. Instead they lazily stand aside and let a man die. They ignore his health when Floyd informed them earlier that he was claustrophobic.

Yet the civilians around them did their duty. They videotaped these cops so they’d be held accountable and couldn’t lie about their actions. Women and men called out to the cops demanding the Chauvin get off of Floyd and for the others to call an ambulance. Granted, Floyd still died. His daughters and wife weren’t there to hold his hand in his final moments. He was denied a good death, a death where he’s an old man surrounded by family who loves him. He’ll never see his daughters, graduate, marry, and bear children of their own. The only solace is that his memory has become immortal, no one will forget him now. I doubt he wanted to be a symbol in death, but now we can ensure that his death isn’t in vain. We can make sure we can bring change to the States. We can make sure that these cops are forced to take responsibility for their crimes. That’s our duty in remembrance to Floyd.

“One day we won't slay our brothers One day we won't hate each other One day we'll help one another But that day is not today”

-- ‘The Pallbearer Walks Alone’, The Dark Element

Lafayette Square Protests

For the most part the placements of the Lafayette Square Protests stay the same as Floyd’s death horoscope. The differences are:

Scorpio Ascendant, meaning Mars & Pluto rule the chart

Scorpio Moon (first house/ascendant)

Cancer Mercury (Eighth House)

Mercury trined Uranus

and Moon trined Saturn

Ultimately, the astrology placements I discussed earlier apply here. But for the protests I just want to focus on the 9th House and 10th House/Midheaven.

Cancer Ninth House & Leo Midheaven

Each country has its own natal chart, for the States, this nation was founded during Cancer season. Many people consider America to be their motherland (Cancer), even people who emigrate here. Personally, I think the States have 2 main lessons to learn: One not to be the savior and think itself the hero of other countries, and two, learn that how it’s governed affects the world (ninth house). In my opening paragraphs I mentioned that Sophie and Brian’s deaths impacted the world as does George’s. That’s exactly what happened. As a nation we have daily protests since Floyd’s death. We’re using emotionally charged language to to force Trump, our legislators, police officials for equal rights for black minorities. Saturn is in Aquarius – and we’re about to enter Pluto in Aquarius in the next few years – we’re finally heeding Saturn’s lesson. That everyone should be treated the same, that we must collaborate to enact change.

Whenever there are empty houses, that house is still important but the lessons and symbols that house represents aren’t important at the moment. Trump used his authority, military, police loyal to him to force them out of the square. Why? For a photo-op. Leo long to be center stage and calling attention to itself; the midheaven makes and ideal home for Leo. But this empty house shows Trump’s failure here. It shows no one will allow him to dominate them anymore. I’m not saying astrology can explain all of Trump’s behaviour, but his incessant need for admiration and attention backfired. Now, I never expected much from him, but if he had the ability to think through his actions and consider anothers’ perspective, I would have tolerated him. (The 2020 elections will not be kind to him.) More importantly Floyd’s death and the proceeding protests have effected the world. And if we as American citizens don’t change, the entire world will be affected. (Pluto and Uranus). The United  States are considered a superpower with Russia and China close behind as world powers. I’m not psychic nor have a crystal ball, but how this nation handles these conflicts will make or break 7 billion + people in this world. I didn’t intend for this astrology post to sound political. I just wanted to explain this through astrology.  

“There will come a day not so far away When the hunter becomes the prey (and you will pay).

Its a hellish inferno This is war eternal.”

-- ‘War Eternal‘, Arch Enemy

[coriandher]

Big thanks to @falloutfandomeventhub and @yesjejunus :D fun to do!

General

Name: Doctor Camille Ng

Aggression: Aggressive

Confidence: Brave

Assistance: Helps nobody

Karma: Evil

Location: Bitter Springs Medical Tent, Callville Bay if camp is massacred

How To Obtain: pass Perception check, spar her, or kill the camp

WARNING, further reading contains mentions of slavery and eugenics. The Vestalis usual

Companion Wheel

I think we should travel together: 

“Remember, natural selection will take out slow walkers.”

“Wacky adventures with the Mailman!”

Use Melee: 

“Promise you’ll cover me”

“(lightly humming Butcher Pete)- chopping that meat”

Use Ranged: 

“If I hit you, discount coupon on treatment”

“Their post mortem will be… ever seen a swiss cheese?”

Open Inventory: 

“Anything new you’ve got?”

“Hoarding is a disorder y’know”

Stay Close: 

“(mumble) -at least dinner first”

“Okie dokie”

Keep Distance: 

“Oh… did I do something wrong?” 

“But :( I thought you liked me…”

Stealth:  

“Lay low. Try to, yeah shh”

“Tiptoe-tiptoe”

Back Up: 

“Sorryyyy”

Be Passive: 

“Yeah yeah, peace, no war, ring around the rosies”

[If Under Attack] “Here?! Now? I’ll PASS on that!”

Be Aggressive: 

(cracks neck)

“Make way, medic coming through”

Use Stimpack: 

“Dosage correct?”

“It’s not spiked with anything right?”

“Where are you injecting?!”

Wait Here: 

“O..kay?”

“Like, stand still here?”

“Can I wander around at least?”

Follow Me: 

“Where did you go?”

“Yay :D It was getting boring”

“Continue adventure!”

Send to the Lucky 38: 

“Oh that fancy place. Take care out there!”

Send Home: 

[Bitter Springs] “Hope the Lt’s more reliable (sigh) Back to volunteer work”

[Callville Bay] “How fast do Cazadores hatch? I should make notes”

Injured: 

“Rookies think this is deep”

“Son of a- fuck”

“Stimpak, stimpak, stimpak!”

Death:

“Fucking kidding me- like this?”

“s’ fine….s’ lright”

Perks

[I’m A Healer, But] Camille gives pointers on where to most effectively strike opponents. Gain +15% critical hit damage bonus when she is in the party.

[Burn Forsooth] Your enemies can hurt you less if they die faster. Once per day, give her a melee weapon and she will upgrade it to have +10 damage per hit.

[Gone To Flowers] In the wasteland, always bring medical supplies with you. Once per day, she can give you 3 stimpaks or 1 Super Stimpak (Luck dependent)

Drops

Encrypted Notes - It has symbols and alphabets combined from different languages. It’s meant for someone. More than one?

Diadem - 10mm SMG with a faster reload time. The receiver is engraved and inlaid with silver.

Doctor’s Bag - A normal doctor’s bag, it drops a collar when used.

Recruitment

She’s treating refugees at Bitter Springs. Pass an [8 PERCEPTION] check pointing out that she doesn’t seem to be from around there. Camille scoffs and introduces herself, saying she’s obviously a Followers volunteer. She can be recruited, as she voluntarily went to the camp, thus she can ‘voluntarily leave as well.’

Failing the Perception check, there is an option to spar with her early every morning. Defeat her or last for a few minutes and then she can be recruited. If she wins, wait for another day.

The Bitter Springs Camp can also be massacred to recruit her. She’ll disappear from the camp if you open fire and once everyone is dead, she can be found chilling by the docks at Callville Bay. She can immediately be recruited.

Camille will not leave regardless of Karma leaning or chosen factions.

Personal Quest

 [Not All In Vein]

Spend enough time with her and new dialogues will unlock. Camille shares her outlook on life. It’s said in a joking tone, but it’s implied that she believes in philosophies such as social darwinism, slavery and eugenics. You can agree or disagree with her. Bring her to Vault 22, Primm, HELIOS One, The Thorn, Cottonwood Cove and the Fort.

Once her dialogue is exhausted, she will openly admit her ideology and share her background.

If the Courier has previously agreed with her, Camille will continue with the prejudiced reasoning. The perk gained is [Burn Forsooth].

If the Courier has disagreed with her, Camille will abandon her old ways and promises to look at life differently. The perk gained is [Gone To Flowers].

However, you can later tell her that you changed your mind, believing the vice versa. Camille will then leave you. If agreed-then disagreed with her, she will be at Legate’s Camp. If disagreed-then agreed with her, she will be at Mormon Fort. Camille can be spoken to, but not recruited.

Other Quests

[Et Tumor Brute?]

She can be asked to operate on Caesar. She will not be available as a companion for a day, but Caesar will survive and things can go as normal.

Alternatively she can be sold to Lucius. This will cause her to approach the Courier, berate them with ‘You could’ve just asked?!’. Camille will flee, shooting the guards. She can be killed at this time, but if she escapes the tent she disappears forever. The quest must be completed using different methods.

[Beyond The Beef]

Camille can be offered to Mortimer. She overhears and refuses, threatening to kill the entire casino. However with 800 caps she can pull some strings to supply the specific type of person Mortimer requires. After three days, speak to Mortimer again and find that the casino has received a man named Fraser for the banquet.

Ending Slides

If her personal quest is not completed, Camille will be known as a bigoted but talented doctor. This caused her to be ostracized by other medics and kicked out of the Followers of the Apocalypse. People still find her for health matters but it’s up to her to decide if they deserve to be treated or not.

If the Courier sides with Legion,

- [Burn Forsooth] is achieved, Camille marries a high ranked Legion officer. Her services as a doctor are only offered to ‘worthy’ Legionnaires. Shockingly, she has a voice in the misogynistic society, giving valuable input to optimize slavery operations. Her first contribution was to direct the military to conquer her old vault, and she personally coordinates the ‘sale and stock’ of her own family.

- [Gone To Flowers] is achieved, she continues to live in Legion controlled land as a travelling doctor. When the Followers were exiled / killed, she figured that the common people would still need medics around. Camille understands how Legion slavers operate, and would occasionally give tips to her patients. She never teams up with anyone anymore, knowing individuals are harder to target.

If the Courier sides with NCR,

- [Burn Forsooth] is achieved, she attempted to run a new slavery ring in the Republic, much underground than the previous Slavers Guild. Camille was successful for a time until a convicted politician exchanges her information for a shorter sentence. Camille was caught, jailed, then executed via hanging.

- [Gone To Flowers] is achieved, Camille starts a clinic in the Mojave. It is very well received with the local community, treating everyone from all walks of life. She wouldn’t charge patients that couldn’t afford it. There are unsettling rumours regarding her past, but nobody’s willing to speak up. Anyone who did open their mouths found that she is as likely to heal you as she is to stab you.

If the Courier sides with House,

- [Burn Forsooth] is achieved, she follows the retreat of the NCR back West, posing as a medic. While the Republic recovers from losing the military campaign, she re-established her old contacts. New Vegas thrives with the old world glory House wanted and Camille finds business in dealing with the Three Families, particularly in the less seemly side of the neon lights. The Omertas is her most loyal client, finding new ‘talents’ in resources she sends over. Camille remains with her old vault’s doctrine, ‘Everything has worth’. 

- [Gone To Flowers] is achieved, Camille negotiates with House’s forces to allow the Followers of the Apocalypse to be left alone. Instead, House decided that the faction can occupy the now abandoned NCR Embassy in exchange for loyalty and an imposed medical tax. Many of the Followers, most prominently Julie Farkas had disagreed, believing it goes against their philosophy. The group left Freeside to find a new base of operations in the Mojave. However, a splinter group lead by Camille emerged, settling with House’s proposition knowing that their facilities and funds will be considerably improved.

If the Courier makes New Vegas independent,

- [Burn Forsooth] is achieved, civilians sometimes go missing without a trace. People who disappeared are usually attractive, well-behaved with no enemies and most of all- healthy. Addicts, drunks and troublemakers are left untouched. The local community banded together to investigate and avoid future abductions, but in the end nobody’s convicted. Without a task force capable enough to uncover her new operations, Camille founded a new Slavers Guild underneath Sin City.

- [Gone To Flowers] is achieved, her presence stabilizes the overrun Mormon Fort. Camille became Julie Farkas’ advisor, helping to organize the Followers better. She has the connections and the resolution to keep the faction afloat. Members are encouraged to take in apprentices to grow their numbers. Working side by side for so long, Camille began a relationship with Julie. The Followers of The Apocalypse gained notoriety and respect with the community, cementing their influence.

[ohshitmomitsawritingblog]

Intelligent child ;; Tomoko Fujimoto

We’re gonna kick this off by introducing today’s birthday girl, Tomoko! 

That’s right, Tomoko is born on April Fool’s day! Why? Because her life is a JOKE! Haha! But in all seriousness, this is the first of the few OCs I’ll introduce to you guys, if you enjoy these kinds of posts! I’m a little nervous about sharing these characters with you all, but I love creating unique, interesting characters and I love seeing unique, interesting characters, so I thought I’d share mine! I’ll be sharing basic character information, but if you guys ever want to send in asks about these characters, I’d be very happy to answer any questions. As always, thank you for reading my work and supporting my blog!  Now without further ado, Tomoko:

Personality 

THIS BITCH IS ARIES AS SHIT!!! I’m only partially kidding. Tomoko is a self motivated, Type A personality to the nth degree. The type of ‘used to be in the gifted program and she hasn’t lost her edge but she has a sense of humor now’. She’s assertive, often taking the lead in group projects, and is observant and considerate of people’s strengths and weaknesses. She’s practical, sweet, and is typically willing to help out. Very girl scout, in energy. Like, Tomoko ain’t no pushover, but she’s not a bitch without a reason, and is in fact very warm, a little silly and affectionate with most friends or people she’s close to. Can she be a bitch though? You bet. And she loves it. Tomoko often talks people into a corner, and has a bad habit of assuming things, or assuming that people should be able to tell what bothers her. 

She jumps to confrontation easily, and while she’s not one for physical fights, typically she internalizes a lot of her issues until she explodes or antagonizes the people she has a problem with. She’s also convinced she has to do everything herself, and has, generally, a very, very hard time truly trusting people. She can be a bit melancholy, and often overthinks problems to death. It makes her great for managerial positions, but life isn’t about managing people, lol. She feels a deep need to be perfect, and this fuels her already competitive nature. any game with any kind of point system? All’s fair in love and war. 

History 

o know the history of Tomoko Fujimoto is to step back one generation, in the Village Hidden in the Mist. Tomoko’s mother, Aoi Fujimoto, is the sole survivor of a brutal massacre that befell her clan during one of Kirigakure’s many internal skirmishes. Their name is scrubbed from all official records, and little is known about them other than they were in possession of a truly unique bloodline limit, and that they were a reclusive and unfriendly people. Aoi, for her part, spent much of her young life a trophy passed around from one clan to the next, valued for her blood but never respected, and never allowed much freedom. That is until she fell hard and fast for the son of a small time Yakuza leader, and together they ran off, never staying in one place for long, but always doing as they liked. Robbing, gambling, drinking, nothing was off limits for these two.  That is, until Aoi became pregnant, and she and her lover-turned-shotgun husband settled down in a secluded area in Fire Country, buying a small onsen with what little money they could scrape together, and trying to achieve some sense of normalcy. Aoi gave birth to Tomoko, and while business was never exactly booming and Tomoko lived a life of isolation from other children, things were okay enough. Aoi’s husband, Tomoko’s father, could never quite adjust to onsen life and was a poor father, to put it lightly. Strict, demanding, and violent, Tomoko and her father had an incredibly turbulent relationship. Tomoko grew close with her maternal grandfather, who came to stay with the family under vague, foggy circumstances, and the old man taught her basic martial arts and taijutsu.

After his death - a possible suicide - at age twelve, Tomoko had to work hard to maintain the onsen and care for her mother, whose life of chaos and violence caught up to her after her husband’s death in the form of a year of not leaving her room, and often sleeping for hours at a time. While other children started trade careers or continued their schooling, Tomoko learned the ins and outs of the hospitality trade, and over the years learned how to manage, schedule, pay, and control the somewhat unruly staff of the onsen. Cut to Tomoko, seventeen, overworked, underpaid, feuding with a mother who suddenly wants to take back control of her business, and ultimately, very lonely. 

Either she meets Sasuke Uchiha just before the Fourth Great Ninja War, and while the two pass each other like ships in the night, they do, vaguely remember each other when they meet again, Sasuke with only one arm and a world of sadness on his back. Tomoko travels the world with Sasuke, and while neither were looking for romance, they slowly but surely find in each other the understanding and companionship they mutually craved for so, so long. Tomoko eventually marries Sasuke, and they have several children. In this alternative, Tomoko is less prickly, generally happier, and she and Sasuke have a much easier time, ironically, navigating the pitfalls of marriage than their peers. They’re an intensely private couple with a very tight, united front. To an outsider, they probably seem cold - until Sasuke runs his fingers over his wife’s elbow, and she, almost unconsciously, leans against his side. There’s a certain understanding between the two that’s almost creepy, but they also talk often, or write to one another. Tomoko is the Uchiha matron, and is a thorn in the council’s side. Radically political PTA mom vibes.

Alternatively, she meets Gaara of the Desert, days after the Fourth Great Ninja War’s end, and they two become odd, fast friends. They both share a love of literature, and Tomoko’s airy nature and the ease in which she fills the silence for both of them warms Gaara to her. They write to one another often, and one often visited the other in the intermediate years that blended into ‘courting’ and ‘we’re just penpals’. One anguished confession after a failed arranged marriage on Gaara’s end of things, and Tomoko and Gaara married at age twenty-two, which for ninjas, as we all know, is absolutely old as balls. Tomoko doesn’t take well to her position as Lady Kazekage, despite her and Gaara’s generally happy marriage. The council disliked the idea of a foreigner marrying into the Kazekage clan, and made a bit of a game out of making their new Lady’s life as difficult as possible. Between this, Tomoko and Gaara’s personal struggles in having children, being unable to communicate or understand the other well, and the onset of until-then-simmering mental illness brought on by the prolonged stress of being a public figure, the couples marriage was .... rocky. Yes i love this ship. Yes they go to therapy. Yes she (eventually) loves Shinki more than she loves 99% of everything else in her life.

In both of these Alternative Futures, Tomoko becomes an author, writing prose horror novels and poetry compilations. 

Stats/Fun Facts

- Tomoko has PTSD, and later in her life suffers from chronic pain due to several broken bones that never quite healed right in her youth.

- Tomoko is a civilian with some martial arts training, but she doesn’t know how to perform ninjutsu or genjutsu, and has largely been insulated from the ninja world growing up.

- Actually has huge difficulty in achieving chakra control, and later comes to find out that she has a rare genetic disorder that disrupts the flow of chakra in her body. This is why, in conjunction with her PTSD, Tomoko struggles with her lethargy later in life. It’s slightly corrected with acupuncture, and if it had been caught at an earlier age, Tomoko would’ve been much better off, if not completely healthy.

- This bitch TALL at 6′2 ft. Yes the pink hair is natural. The boobs are too.

- Likes going on random, meandering walks. Hiking is her favorite hobby after writing.

- Her mom gushes over and adores either of her husbands. Sasuke or Gaara gets a MILF in law who hugs and kisses them every time they visit and that’s facts.

- as Lady Kazekage, her fashion sense drifts from kimonos and casual dresses to ... sexier waters. A council member made a comment over her clothing choices one too many times and now Tomoko wears floor length dresses for hot bitches and hot bitches only.

LIKES: Hikes, pomegranates, cooking, making lists, writing, winter

DISLIKES: Clutter, whining, apricots, folding laundry, anywhere with high humidity

below are some messy sketches of the girl, the gal, the main squeeze

[walaw717]

01.14.2020

In 2017 the San Antonio leaders decided to move our Alamo Christmas Tree.  For decades prior, visitors took photos advertising to the whole world you vacationed at our Alamo City during Christmas.  City leaders erased one of our best sources of free media and advertising. 

In 2018, city leaders decided to move the Alamo Cenotaph at least 500 feet away from what we know as the “Shrine of Texas Liberty.”

During the 1936 Texas Centennial, the State of Texas provided $100,000 for the Alamo Cenotaph.  Also known as the “Spirit of Sacrifice” monument, the Cenotaph finally provided a sacred “empty tomb” and a final resting place that Santa Anna had denied the Alamo Defenders.

In 2019, elected officials want to honor the heroes on “both sides” of the conflict and even consider erecting a statue on Alamo grounds to the dictator and brutal tyrant Santa Anna and his “freedom fighters.” 

History reminds that in war with a ruthless dictator, only one side can be deemed the freedom fighters.

I believe each of three (2017, 2018 and 2019) politically motivated actions is immoral, an abomination and a desecration to our Heroic Defenders of the Alamo.

These radical steps are part of a progressive agenda to “reimagine” the Alamo.  In my experience on the Texas State Board of Education (SBOE), reimagine is a political “dog whistle” meaning the agenda of revising and rewriting history 183 years after the fact.

Historical revisionists now claim Texas was “stolen from Mexico” and “Santa Anna came to the Alamo to free the slaves.” 

True history reminds us that with the Constitution of 1824, the United Mexican States became a “Constitutional Republic.”

Modeled after the United States Constitution, Mexico’s 1824 document included one key difference, slavery was illegal.

In 1829, Mexico strengthened their Constitution with an “Emancipation Proclamation” to stop the attempt of “Jacksonian Democrats” migrating from the United States and trying to bring slaves into Mexico. 

Again, the 1824 Mexican Constitution and the 1829 Emancipation Proclamation opposed slavery.

Tejas (Texas), whose population was too small to warrant representation as a separate state, was part of the Mexican state of “Coahuila y Tejas.”

In 1835 Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was elected President and then declared himself military “Dictator of Mexico” and “Napoleon of the Western Hemisphere.”

Santa Anna annulled the Mexican Constitution of 1824 and enacted his own Constitution known as his “Siete Leyes” or seven laws. 

His new constitution allowed only those with a certain level of income the right to vote or hold office. 

Santa Anna had his military disband the elected National Congress and Legislatures of each Mexican state.  History tells us the elected officials of Mexico fled for fear of their lives. 

The Mexican state boundaries were redrawn into military districts governed by officers loyal to Santa Anna. 

Historians point to several Mexican states revolting against the tyrant Santa Anna including: Coahuila y Tejas (the northern part became the Republic of Texas), San Luis Potosí, Querétaro, Durango, Guanajuato, Michoacán, Yucatán, Jalisco, Nuevo León and Tamaulipas.

Several of these states formed their own governments including the Republic of the Rio Grande and the Republic of Yucatán. Only the Republic of Texas was successful in gaining independence.

On May 11, 1835, Santa Anna brought his army to end the rebellion in Zacatecas.  He did not come to free slaves.

His “Army of Operations” captured almost 3,000 prisoners.  Reports have Mexican civilians being massacred by the thousands. 

This cruel dictator gave his soldiers forty-eight hours to first rape and pillage Zacatecas, and then loot the rich silver mines. 

Santa Anna would spend years suppressing revolts by other Mexican states.

The “Thirteen Day Siege of the Alamo” began on February 23, 1836.  The flag that was flown had four numbers –1824. This meant the Texians were citizens of Mexico and wanted to reestablish the Mexican Constitution of 1824.

I was honored to carry and lead passage of SBOE amendments to continue reading the world famous “Victory or Death” letter of Col. William Travis and to recognize our Alamo Defenders as” Heroes.” 

Travis’ short, 250-word “primary source document” tells us that 189 (some sources say 257) Alamo men fought Santa Ana’s army of 1,500 that grew with reinforcements to over 3,000 Mexican solders.

On March 3, 1836, probably unknown to the Defenders at the Alamo, Texas ratified her Declaration of Independence.

The grievances delineated included: Freedom of Religion (Santa Anna declared one national denomination), trial by jury, right to bear arms, public education, along with political corruption and abuse.

On March 6, 1836, the Alamo fell; and Santa Anna executed all surviving combatants of the Alamo. To deny a Christian burial for our Defenders, he ordered all the bodies be stripped, looted, stacked and burned.

And yes, one Alamo Defender was former U.S. Congressman David Crockett of Tennessee.

Three weeks later at the “Goliad Massacre” Santa Anna executed Col. James Fannin and 344 prisoners.  Officer Fannin requested that “our belongings be left for our families” and “we not be shot in the face” to allow identification by the families and to have “a Christian burial.”

Santa Anna’s army took all belongings, fired shots in people’s faces multiple times, and burned all bodies to deny them Christian burials. 

Their charred bodies were purposely left for the vultures and coyotes.

World opinion, including the United States, France and Great Britain, then branded Santa Anna and sadly the people of Mexico as cruel and brutal. 

The New York Post editorialized that if Santa Anna was more moderate in his tactics, perhaps world opinion. sympathy and support for the Texians would not be as strong.

Did Santa Anna try to change World opinion and suddenly declare he was peaceful and came to “free the slaves” as some officials are now reimagining?

Ask the Mayans from the “Republic of Yucatan” who also rebelled.  Cuban history documents that after the failed Yucatan rebellion, Mayan slaves arrived as part of a “deal” the Mexican Army made with Spain in exchange for cash per slave to pay off war debt.

Now, in 2019 certain elected officials, 183 years after the Alamo, voted to move the Cenotaph memorial and consider building a statue to honor Santa Anna and the “other freedom fighters.”

Again, in a war against a dictator and tyrant, only one side can be deemed freedom fighters.

I challenge San Antonio leadership:     

Return the Christmas tree to the Alamo.  Our Defenders deserve this worldwide symbol of faith and peace.

Do not move and do not deface the Alamo Cenotaph.  Our Defenders earned this permanent memorial and “hollow tomb.”

Stop this politically correct agenda that states Santa Anna came to “free the slaves.”  Remember Zacatecas, the Alamo, Goliad and Yucatan.

History 101 tells us: Dictators and tyrants do not come to free slaves. Dictators and tyrants come to make slaves.

Of all places in our world, the “City of Saint Anthony” should not allow this absurd, politically corrupt agenda to reimagine, revise, and rewrite our history.  Our “Heroic Defenders of the Alamo” deserve better.

Ken Mercer

Member: Texas State Board of Education’

Former Member, Texas State House, Committee on Higher Education  

[sebeth]

Injustice #4

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Injustice: Gods Among Us # 4 by Tom Taylor.

 Dick and Damian spar in the Batcave. Dick critiques Damian: “You keep aiming for that killing blow, you’re trying to hurt me, which I’m trying not to take personally by the way, but it’s not all about the body and head. Your opponent has sticky -outy bits that are easier to reach. Not only does your opponent have sticky-outy bits, they may also have had some bad circumstances that led them to a point where you’re fighting them. Some criminals deserve a second chance. Second chances are harder with a severe brain injury.”

An angered Damian hurls an escrima stick at Dick’s head, which is caught by the newly-arrived Superman.

“That’s not very sporting, Damian.”

Dick assures Clark: “It’s okay, Superman. I knew it was coming. He tries it all the time.”

The opening scene is foreshadowing for later events in the series. Damion’s routine hissy fit with the escrima sticks will end up having severe consequences.

Events before the beginning of the series in this universe are rather vague. We don’t know the circumstances of Damian’s introduction to the Bat Family. I would assume it’s similar to the mainstream universe. Damian appears older than 10, possibly in the 13-14 years old range.

Tim became Red Robin in this universe but we aren’t given details. Did Final Crisis happen? Was Bruce lost in time and presumed dead? Or is Dick’s mentorship of Damian similar to the animated movies?

Superman is at the cave to speak to Bruce. Damian says Bruce is “broodier than usual.”

Damian thanks Clark for killing the Joker: “Not that the Joker’s gone, everything just feels safer, you know?

Dick asks Clark if he’s okay. Clark says he’ll manage.

Clark demands to know where Bruce was when Ma & Pa Kent were kidnapped.

Bruce tells Clark that he has to “stop what you’re doing”.

“I have to stop what? Stop saving lives? Stop bringing dictators to justice?”

“You’re scaring them.”

“They should be scared. They should be too scared to press the button. They should be too scared to pull the trigger. They should be too scared to hurt each other. You taught me that. You’d do exactly what I’m doing if you were me, if you could do what I can.”

“You killed a man, Clark.”

“I did. And every time you let that madman live, how many more did you condemn? Did you even feel responsible? Did you even feel guilty?”

“Every time. But we don’t get to choose who dies.”

“One death. To save millions.”

“One. Death.”

“It always starts with one. That’s how justification works. But once you justify something once, you can do it again and again. It becomes easier. Right and wrong blur.”

I find myself on both sides of their argument. Bruce is absolutely correct on the slippery side nature of taking the law in your own hands. Superman and company have no right to run the world. On the other hand, killing the Joker is something that should have been done years ago. The Joker’s body count is in the hundreds if not more. There is no hope of redemption for him – and even if he suddenly regretted all of his previous actions, there is no way to atone for his scale of murder. And this is before the Metropolis massacre. The Joker – and Harley’s – death toll is now in the millions!

A Japanese fleet harpoons whales in the ocean only to encounter a very angry Aquaman.

Aquaman sinks the ship causing the Justice League to respond.

Diana urges Arthur to withdraw. Arthur refuses – the ocean is his kingdom and he will protect it as he sees fit.

A worried Atlantean soldier blasts Diana, starting an Altantean-Justice League brawl.

We return to the Batcave where Clark accuses Bruce of loving the Joker: “You’re not sitting in the dark mourning Metropolis, are you? You’re mourning him. You’re angry at me for taking the Joker away from you. You loved having him around. Your constant nemesis. The two of you played your stupid game and people died. Why did you let him do this to me, Bruce?”

While the suggestion of a Bruce/Joker love match is disgusting, Bruce should have ended the Joker years ago. Honestly, the Joker should have been killed – and left dead – in the Death of the Family storyline.  After the paralyzing Babs/murdering Jason combo act, the only thing the writers seem to do with the Joker is have him commit yet another atrocity. Boring and redundant.

Clark continues his rant, bemoaning the loss of his wife an unborn child. Clark specifically mentions the loss of his unborn child denying the world of another Kryptonian, “someone who would have made me feel less alone.”

Maybe Clark should try being nicer to Conner!

Clark criticizes Bruce’s parenting skills: “You’re sitting in the dark, ignoring Dick and Damian. How many friends did they have in Metropolis? Have you consoled them? Have you held them? Your parents died and left you, Bruce. What’s your excuse for not being a father?”

I don’t know if the events of a future Injustice annual were planned out at this point but if they were, Clark’s speech is rather ballsy and hypocritical considering his treatment of the Titans in the aftermath of the destruction of Metropolis.

Did Clark ever consider Bruce is “sitting in the dark” at the Batcomputer because he’s searching for his missing son? The one Clark banished to the Phantom Zone?

Dick and Damian wouldn’t normally have “friends in Metropolis”. Jon was never born and Dick doesn’t hang around in Metropolis. Is Clark’s “friends in Metropolis” rant the first clue Bruce has regarding the whereabouts of the missing Tim and the Titans? Is that the reason Bruce punches Clark at the end of his speech?

Clark switches from angry to concerned in a second, examining Bruce’s hand. Normally, I’d say it’s a typical Clark move, but in the Injustice-verse it’s a sign of Clark’s growing instability.

The Batcomputer alerts the duo to the brawl in the Atlantic Ocean. Clark decides to head over there.

Bruce warns Clark: “You can’t yourself above us, Clark. You’re right. I’m not saying I’d act differently if I had your abilities. I’m not saying I wouldn’t try to impose peace but you…you’re a better man than I am.”

Not anymore, Bruce.

Alfred asks “Master Kent” if he’s staying for tea.

“I’m afraid not, Alfred. And you don’t have to call me ‘Master’”.

“Good. Let’s remember that.”

Alfred is not fond of Clark’s shenanigans.

Aquaman has summoned a creature so huge that its arrival causes a tsunami. That’s right, the Kraken has been unleashed.

Batman warns Aquaman via a communicator: “Listen to me. He’s coming. He’s in angry. He’s in pain. You’re hurting his friends. You need to stop or there’s no telling what he may do. Do as he says.”

Superman wants Arthur to withdraw the Kraken.

Arthur does after reminding Clark the League started the brawl. Which they did. Arthur attempted to calm the situation down after his soldier blasted Diana. Diana decided she was “tired of words” and started the rumble.

Arthur and Clark argue.

“I called for a worldwide ceasefire.”

“Even your voice does not reach down into the deep, Superman. If you wish to rule the surface world…”

“I do not seek to rule, only to protect.”

“I understand, with the destruction of Metropolis, you lost your kingdom. But you can’t have mine.”

“I do not want…”

“Superman, whether you see it or not, your reign is beginning. But the sea is mine alone to command.

The League realizes “Atlantean armies are rising in countries across the world.”

Superman: “Arthur, what is this?”

“A reminder. I am not some self-appointed leader of an insignificant country who can be bullied into submission. Every port. Every ship. Everything that flies over the oceans does so with my blessing. Your world would halt grind to a halt if I willed it. Every land mass borders the sea. Your entire world is inside mine. Consider this a show of strength. Now get the hell out of my ocean.”

Bruce fumes: “You idiot. He’s not going to respond to an ultimatum!”

Clark orders Diana, Hal, and Billy to accompany him: “Aquaman is using his strength. It’s time we showed him our strength. It’s time we showed everyone who would threaten the world just how much power they’re dealing with. No more holding back.”

The foursome then lift Atlantis out of the ocean and re-locate it into the middle of the Sahara desert.

That’s the show of strength? Lifting a city containing thousands of civilians, women and children, and putting it in the middle of an environment where they are unable to breathe or tolerate the extreme heat. Sounds more like a murder plan.

It should be noted the panels containing the “rising Atlantean armies” only showed the Atlanteans standing in formation on the coasts – not actually attacking.

I’m not defending Arthur – he, along with Clark and Diana, all acted like immature toddlers having a fit.

The forcible removal of Atlantis is where any remaining sympathy for Clark went out the window. He acted like a terrorist. A “proper show of strength” would have been engaging the Atlantean armies not threatening unarmed civilians. It boggles my mind that the rest of the Justice League has been fine with Clark’s actions.

Diana is clearly a more sinister version of herself in this universe. She’s been egging Clark on the entire team and she is the cause of the Atlantean confrontation.

Hal should know better – Sinestro was removed from the Green Lantern Corps because of Superman-like actions – but he’s shown bad judgement in the past so I could maybe see him siding with Clark. It’s still iffy as Hal hasn’t been traumatized by the destruction of Coast City in this universe.

Hawkgirl – well, if she’s “Hawkworld” version of Shayera then she would be comfortable in a military-run world

Raven – will be shown to have fallen under Trigon’s influence so she’s clearly fallen to the “dark side”

Cyborg, Captain Marvel, and Flash are simply too good/sweet to fall in line with the dictator posse. Boggles my mind to see the trio blindly following Clark and Diana’s orders.

Diana informs Clark that Arthur is ready to speak to him. Clark demurs, stating “I’ve achieved nothing by talking today.”

More like cowardly refusing to own up to his actions.

Arthur urges Diana to steer Clark “away from this course of action”, warning her that “you will have scared a lot of people today. Ordinary people who will not want gods and aliens telling them what they can and can’t do.”

Diana refuses as she believes “this course of action is what’s best for the world.”

Diana returns to Clark and informs him that Arthur “will pull his armies back into the ocean”.

Clark has Billy and Hal return Atlantis to the ocean, nothing “this action didn’t sit well with either of them.”

Diana tells Clark “Don’t worry about what they think. You did the right thing. You did what needed to be done.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I won’t let you doubt yourself.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“Surely Arthur had more to say.”

“No. Nothing.”

Diana omits Arthur’s concers and his expressed sympathies for the loss of Lois.

Diana is quite the sinister manipulator in this universe. She’s all but hurling Clark down the “slippery slope” of his actions.

It’s easy to see the reasons of Clark’s descent. He’s lost his wife, unborn child, and his entire city. He’s isolated his parents in a fortress instead of mourning with them. He has a fierce anger towards his best friend because of the Joker and is unwilling to listen to Bruce. Diana, his other best friend, is urging him to indulge in his worst impulses. And the rest of the Justice League – minus Arthur – is too cowardly to call him out.

Next issue: It gets worse. Of course, that could be the summary for every issue.

[dweemeister]

Cheyenne Autumn (1964)

The American Western has been a genre in cinema almost from the artform’s beginning. Over decades and influenced by the traditions of Western firsthand storytelling and literature, Western films evolved with the vocabulary and history of film. Maybe the most important figure in the Western’s development is director John Ford. Ford directed not only the greatest films of that genre, but for the entire medium of cinema – including titles like Stagecoach (1939), My Darling Clementine (1946), and The Searchers (1956). All three of those films were shot in Monument Valley, located on the Arizona-Utah border within the Navajo Nation, and famous for its imposing mesas. Many Navajo starred as extras in those films, including the subject of this write-up, Cheyenne Autumn.

With this final Western to direct and his health failing, Ford was in an unusually repentant mood. Upon reflection, he became to realize how poorly he treated the Native American characters in his Westerns. They were often one-dimensional villains massacred by white pioneers or United States Cavalrymen; noble savages; or just faceless, bloodthirsty legends that are never seen. Ford always sympathized with the Navajo extras he employed in his Westerns (they often played non-Navajo tribes, and the filmmakers spent no effort for linguistic accuracy), albeit from a paternalistic lens. Cheyenne Autumn is shadowed by that white paternalism – an overlong experience never adopting the perspectives of its Native American characters.

In Oklahoma Territory/Indian Territory, a group of Northern Cheyenne leaders are planning to return their people back to their homeland in Wyoming. Led by Little Wolf (Ricardo Montalbán) and Dull Knife (Gilbert Roland) after the death of Tall Tree (Victor Jory), the tribe’s efforts are opposed from a military and Department of Interior policy lens. Captain Thomas Archer (Richard Widmark) sympathizes, but refuses to listen to the advice of his bloodlusting, openly prejudiced subordinates (especially Patrick Wayne’s character). American newspapers get wind of these Western developments, and begin to misrepresent the Northern Cheyenne actions as a danger to American civilians. Numerous subplots abound, including Archer’s Mormon love interest, Deborah Wright (Carroll Baker, whose character teaches the Cheyenne children English) deciding to embed herself with the Cheyenne’s northward journey. Secretary of the Interior Carl Schurz (Edward G. Robinson) also wants to avoid violence, and will venture westward to defuse the situation.

Other characters including a Cheyenne named “Spanish Woman” (Dolores del Río, probably referring to the character’s mixed heritage), the fiery Red Shirt (Sal Mineo), and the short-tempered Captain Oscar Wessels (Karl Malden). An ill-advised pre-intermission comedic sequence with Wyatt Earp (James Stewart) and Doc Holliday (Arthur Kennedy) comes off only as bloat.

The chief problem of Cheyenne Autumn is one that constantly undermines its central premise. In this film, Ford and screenwriters Mari Sandoz (a novelist-biographer who specialized on the American West, including the Plains Indians) and James R. Webb (1962′s Cape Fear, 1963′s How the West Was Won) rarely adopt the point of view of the Native American characters. When the screenplay does concentrate on them, it is distilled by the experiences and political positions of the white characters. Carroll Baker’s character becomes the white character through whom the Cheyenne become relatable, their intentions and reasons sanitized. Mentions of American atrocities towards Native Americans – if not specifically the Cheyenne – are superficial, requiring guesswork for those unfamiliar in American West history, with Ford never bothering to contextualize how those actions have contributed to the Cheyenne’s presence in Oklahoma. As characters, they are never anything more than frustrated figures that speak out against the American government. Aside from moments where the Cheyenne are taking down their teepees and packing their belongings, what are they like as parents? Friends? Peers? The film is not interested in that, depriving a lot of potential emotional power for the characters that should be central to this work.

One important inclusion in Cheyenne Autumn is the American media’s depiction of the roving Cheyenne as a band of anarchic scalp-collectors. An outlier newspaper editor wants to distinguish himself from the mob, so he frames his paper’s stories as supporting a horde of noble savages. The mass hysteria among Eastern and Western publications could stand in for twentieth-century Hollywood, as the initial storytellers of a narrative tradition colored by racial fear. As much as this film’s allegiances are more beholden to the Native American characters compared to John Ford’s previous works, Cheyenne Autumn is not so much forcing the viewer to experience American imperialism through the eyes of its Native American as it is an expensive, languidly-staged presentation of Ford’s personal beliefs.

Ford further weakens his film by whitewashing the principal Cheyenne characters. Dull Knife, Tall Tree, and Red Shirt are all played by white actors; Little Wolf is played by Mexican actor Ricardo Montalbán, but this is just as problematic – Mexican actors or “less pale” white actors were often employed to portray Native Americans in American Western movies. While conversing in “Cheyenne”, the few Navajo actors playing the Cheyenne are saying dirty Navajo jokes to each other. This erasure of historically correct Native American perspectives fails to generate much empathy, even if Cheyenne Autumn has some structural similarities to documentaries or docudramas.

Cheyenne Autumn’s comedic sequence in Dodge City featuring some of the most famous names of Western lore is an inexplicable miscalculation. As much as I might like some Jimmy Stewart any day, there is no reason for Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday (Stewart and Kennedy are too old to play Earp and Holliday, respectively) to appear. This pre-intermission comic relief does nothing but wreak havoc on the film’s already-languid pacing. It does not help that the broad comedy elicits few laughs.

Shot in Super Panavision 70mm Technicolor, Cheyenne Autumn has a wide frame for cinematographer William S. Clothier (1948′s Fort Apache, 1959′s The Horse Soldiers) to work with. The final cut is beautifully photographed, if a bit repetitive and annoying to anybody with an understanding of Great Plains geography (those Monument Valley vistas are not that ubiquitous across the central United States; for example, there are no mountains in Kansas). The signature vistas, shot solely medium and long shots that a widescreen format enables, are gorgeous as always. Moab, Utah and Gunnison, Colorado also stood in for locales along the Northern Cheyenne Exodus – even if the exodus never traversed those states. Ford, his eyesight failing, had lost much of his sense of composition by this point. Those repetitive wide shots and awkward stagings of dialogue scenes with a mass of characters all attest to this. But even a weaker John Ford effort ranks as a stunning visual experience.

Composer Alex North’s (1960′s Spartacus, 1963′s Cleopatra) modernism in his score clashed with Ford’s expectations. North’s score is powerful, brimming with anticipation of the tense situations that are to come. Yet it is without any identifiable leitmotifs until later in the film, as North adopted a modal structure based in Native American music that runs against the idea and expectations of recurring, melodic musical ideas. This set-up works in the context of the film, but independent of the accompanying scenes – and this subsequent statement is speculation but based on my experience with modal classical music; Cheyenne Autumn’s score is unavailable for free online – the score probably suffers. Music like the lyricism of Dimitri Tiomkin’s Western scores (see 1948′s Red River and 1956′s Gunfight at the O.K. Corral) would not fit in Cheyenne Autumn, given the challenging subject matter. Ford himself disliked North’s music, cutting much of it from the final version of the movie. This would not be the last time North was on the wrong side of an artistic disagreement, with much worse treatment by the likes of Stanley Kubrick in his future.

For Warner Bros., 1964 proved to be an eventful year. Its two most high-profile properties – at least, the two movies they spent the most money to acquire the rights for – were Cheyenne Autumn and My Fair Lady. Producer Bernard Smith (1960′s Elmer Gantry, How the West Was Won) convinced Jack Warner, after Warner’s greenlighting of My Fair Lady, that the studio needed a second surefire hit: a John Ford Western. But Ford’s decision in material was among the least commercial of his career, and Cheyenne Autumn’s constitution is not conducive to a single sitting for most. With My Fair Lady slated to be released three weeks  after Cheyenne Autumn, Warner Bros. then decided to concentrate its advertising firepower on the Lerner and Loewe musical adaptation – sealing the financial fate of John Ford’s last Western.

More truthful, faithful Westerns portraying Native Americans would be released in later decades – perhaps not always the most high-profile Hollywood features, but worthy in their fidelity to depicting Native American perspectives. Yet the idea for a kind of cinematic reparation from a major Hollywood production can be said to begin here, in Cheyenne Autumn, under the direction of the one person who might have been most responsible in popularizing negative cinematic stereotypes of Native Americans. John Ford may be the most accomplished director the United States has given to cinema, but a great portion of that success is thanks to capitalizing on destructive ideas serving as the keystone of American narratives.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

[deviantaccumulation]

Knightrise - Chapter 2: Negotiator

Read chapter 1 here (tumblr) (AO3)

Read chapter 2 on AO3

“Did you put everything up?” Obi-Wan asked Ahsoka, his eyes fixed forward on the door to the holo-conference room, where they expected Satine to walk out of any minute. Master Yoda had gone into the gardens, and Obi-Wan knew that the Grandmaster didn’t want to bear the wait when there was nothing he could do to help them. Ahsoka however had wanted to come, even if she wouldn’t be going into the session with Obi-Wan.

“Yes,” Ahsoka said with a sigh. Obi-Wan glanced towards her to see her looking down, her montrals drooping slightly. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder.

“I too wish that we didn’t have to do this, dear one,” he said quietly.

“It feels like I am… defiling their memory somehow,” Ahsoka murmured. “I don’t know if I can look any of the others in the eye should they ask me about it.”

“It feels like something that should be kept private, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling her nod through his hand on her shoulder. “If the others disdain us for it, then that is their right. But I think most of them will understand our reasoning behind it.”

The door opened slightly, Satine stepping through halfway to motion for him to come in. Obi-Wan moved, but Ahsoka’s hand clasping his arm made him pause for a moment.

“May the Force be with you,” Ahsoka said, and Obi-Wan nodded.

The inside of the conference room seemed empty, until he stepped into the projector field, and suddenly the walls disappeared behind blue shimmering rows and rows of seats, a representative of the Neutral System seated in each one of them, and all of them staring down at him with impersonal expressions on their faces.

“Esteemed Council,” he greeted, affording them the customary bow of one dignitary to the other. “I stand before you today to request asylum for my people.”

None of the Councilors reacted, but then they hadn’t been elected by their people because they wore their emotions on their sleeves.

So Obi-Wan recounted the Fall of the Republic to them, the last battle for democracy, how Palpatine had been playing both sides of the war and had finally accumulated enough power to call for himself to be made Emperor. He told them of the so-called treason of the Jedi and the massacre of the Temple in as few as many words as he could manage, trying his hardest to keep his voice from breaking.

He was used to doing this for other people, other civilizations, he was even used to be the one who as a Republic representative was being plead to, instead of doing the pleading. He had never wanted to experience the quiet helplessness he had seen in other refugees’ eyes, the desperation, the knowledge that their fate didn’t rest in their own hands anymore, and that they couldn’t afford to be turned away.

The Council was quiet for a few moments after he finished, contemplation heavy in the room.

“Master Jedi,” one of the Councilors said. “You are asking for asylum due to your people being hunted by the Empire, yes? And how do you plan to hide from said Empire?”

“That’s simple,” Obi-Wan said, “I don’t plan to hide.”

“You… do not plan to hide?”

“I expect it to be a waste of energy to try to hide,” Obi-Wan said, the fabric of his sleeves shuffling as he shrugged. “Even at this point, there are already over a hundred people only in this call that know our current location. Any attempt at a secret will slowly trickle down, the number of people who know will increase exponentially and sooner or later someone will have mentioned something to the wrong person.”

“So you expect us to take in a large group of highly wanted people, in a move that would definitely draw the Empire’s ire on us? You are aware that we have regulations as well as a contingent for refugees, yes?”

Beside him Satine tensed in a way that made Obi-Wan suspect that said contingent didn’t get resolved upon with a full majority.

“I am aware, yes,” Obi-Wan said nonchalantly. “Let me alleviate your fear about going against the regulations of the Neutral Systems. I do not wish to apply my people as refugees. Instead I am officially petitioning that we may join the Council as a recently from the former Republic separated system.”

A murmur went through the rotunda, but the same Senator as before seemed quick to gather themself again.

“You need to have a planet to join the Council, Master Jedi,” they said between gritted teeth.

“Oh, but we do,” Obi-Wan said, having to do his best not to laugh at the representative’s face. He took out his comm unit, putting it on the holo-table in the center of the room. Keying up the right data set, the projection of an ice-blue planet appeared in the air. “This is Illum. It is located in the Unknown Region, and has belonged to the Order since before the era of the Old Republic.”

There was a half-stunned silence around the room.

“Master Jedi,” another representative spoke up. “Correct me if I am wrong, but you did mention at the beginning that you do seek asylum on Mandalore, did you not?”

“That is correct,” Obi-Wan said with an incline of his head. “Illum has an average temperature of only shortly above zero Kelvin, and is in general just rather uninhabitable and not self-sustainable. In any case, I expect the new Emperor to know about it, so returning there on a permanent basis wouldn’t be too healthy in that sense either. Still, a planet is a planet in your convention, is it not?”

“Indeed it is,” the same representative said, hiding an amused smile behind a hand. Obi-Wan managed to keep the answering grin from his face, instead reaching out to turn off the projection.

The first chancellor butted in again: “The status of your planet will mean that you are still dependable on us for sustenance, won’t it? How exactly do you plan to offset the cost of living for your people? You cannot act as diplomats anymore, not when there is a warrant for your arrest going around the Republic, and we are a Council that has devoted itself to peace – we do not need your warriors.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “While it is true that there is a contingent of the Jedi Order that acts as Knights, and therefor in the capacity that you have just described, we have more divisions than just that.”

“And which would those be?”

“The Jedi Corps. An organization with four subdivision, respectively the Educational Corps, the Medical Corps, the Exploratory Corps, and the Agricultural Corps,” Obi-Wan said, ticking off his fingers. “While I expect the Educational and the Exploratory Corps to be of little interest to you, the Medical Corps is filled with professional healers, many of whom are specialized in Force healing. The Agricultural Corps usually specialize in feeding worlds struck by disaster, and while half of them is supposed to help the inhabitants of the planet itself to build up their own sustainable structure, the other half of personal and material is devoted to hydroponic ships.”

“Hydroponic ships?” The Councilor who had been so amused before was leaning forward.

“Yes. They are supposed to act as first-aid, in those months were a planet is unable to produce harvest. The ships produce an enormous surplus, which used to go to Coruscant, but that won’t be necessary anymore. They have been rather dispersed across the galaxy lately, but should even three of those ships come into the Neutral Systems, they will be more than enough to produce enough food for my people, and enough surplus to sell that all our basic needs would be filled.”

“Good to hear,” the Councilor said, leaning back with a satisfied smile as their colleagues murmured around them.

“Still,” the first Councilor spoke up again. “We have a responsibility towards our own people too. If it gets out that we are providing you with protection, we will have to fear retaliation from the Empire, even against our civilians. How would you have us justify that risk to our constituents?”

“Honored representative,” Obi-Wan said, any previous humor he had felt evaporating, “You are misunderstanding something fundamental about the Empire. The Republic was largely content to let you be, because they were a democratic body, led by many, and with decent people among those leading. The Empire is led only by one man, Palpatine. This man has no interest in adhering to laws. He won’t make compromises. He will ask you to join the Empire, and once you’ll refuse, he will take what he wants by Force.” Obi-Wan looked through the rotunda, addressing all present. “I know that none of you here liked the Republic. Some of you may have even downright hated it. Well, whatever you thought about the Republic, about its power grabbing, its tyrannical laws and its oppression – all your worst fantasies are now truth when it comes to the Empire. The Republic and having to pretend to keep within its laws so that he could amass enough power were the only things holding Palpatine back. They’re gone now. And he won’t stop until he has each one of your constituents kneeling before him.”

“Surely you are exaggerating,” another Councilor interjected, a frown on her face.

“I have just told you that the entire war was engineered by him,” Obi-Wan said. “Palpatine readily killed millions just so he could have complete control over the Republic systems. You have all been in politics for quite some time. Are these the deeds of someone who will ever be content with what he has when he knows that there’s more yet outside his current reach?”

The room was quiet as the people in the projections exchanged looks.

“Master Jedi,” another Councilor said into the silence. “The official stance of the –former, I suppose – Republic is that the Jedi have been the one who have committed treason. While I am sure that many here know you as a man of integrity, in that matter it is your word against theirs. Why should we not believe that you are the traitor in this scheme?”

Obi-Wan lowered his head, looking at the comm unit still lying on the holo-table. He had known that this question would come, had planned for it even, but that didn’t make it any easier.

A few button presses, and the security recordings began to play in the air above the table.

He could distantly hear a few gasps, and he tried to not look up, not wanting to catch even one more glimpse of the massacre if he didn’t have to. Watching it for Ahsoka had been bad enough, but he had owed her that much. Now, playing it for a group of total strangers, who had no right to be privy to his pain… But it was necessary.

That thought didn’t stop him from switching off the feed after less than ten seconds. Behind him he could hear fabric rustling ever so faintly, knew that it was Satine who wanted to reach out to him, and as much as he would have found solace in her freely offered comfort, they couldn’t have her appear to be playing favorites any more than they already were.

“If any of you are unsure of the credibility of the footage,” he started, and damn it, his voice was hoarse again, “the entirety of the recordings we took from the Temple has been uploaded on the Holonet half an hour ago. While it is of course not everything, I think the few hundred hours should be enough to assure you that the footage hasn’t been doctored.”

When he looked up many of the Councilors were staring at him with widened eyes. Of course they all had heard him before when he had talked how a battalion of the GAR had marched onto the Temple and killed most of its inhabitants, but watching it happen still gave an entirely different view on the same facts, especially for civilians, for most of whom the horrors of battle were something to be read about in reports, and not the burning hot memories of blood-screams-pain-death-death-death.

“If there are no more questions, I would take my leave to let you discuss our petition,” Obi-Wan said into the stunned silence. No one protested immediately, so he bowed (too quick too shallow), and exited the room, his forcibly regular breathing pattern falling apart the moment the door closed behind him.

“Master,” a voice said, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Ahsoka. He forgot that Ahsoka would still be standing here. Shit.

“Everything’s fine, I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, stumbling in the direction he remembered the freshers to be, not daring to look at her. Half-blind he shut the fresher door behind him, then the door of the nearest stall, feeling too much like he was building a barricade.

He plopped down onto the lid of the toilet, burying his face into his hands. His breath was loud in the small space left in between.

In.

Out.

Air filled his lungs, yet he still felt empty.

Something was eating at him from the inside out, and all he wanted to do was to let it, to hope that it would devour even the last bits of him.

In.

Out.

“Ben?”

His head rose from the little cavern his fingers had made, staring at the opposite stall door. It didn’t reach all the way down, so he could see Satine’s elegant yet practical dark boots.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“The discussion is through,” she said, “there is a brief period for quiet contemplation, then the votes are placed. You should start to get ready.”

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he said.

“Alright,” Satine said, the boots walking away from the door.

He waited for a few seconds, then crept out of the stall. There were mirrors above the sinks in the washroom. For someone who had just half-hyperventilated he still looked rather good, he thought as he examined his image. He brushed through his hair with one hand, then decided that there wasn’t much he could do to improve how he looked, and left the bathroom.

He walked into the hallway with the conference room to see Satine and Ahsoka standing before each other, Satine’s hands resting on Ahsoka’s shoulders as the young girl leaned into her, Satine’s lips forming words he couldn’t quite make out.

Satine looked up, and he sent her a look that he hoped conveyed his gratitude, smoothening it back out again when Ahsoka too noticed his arrival.

Ahsoka didn’t ask him how he was doing, and he was grateful for it.

“I’ll call you in when the vote is done,” Satine said, going into the conference room and leaving the two of them in the hallway.

Obi-Wan didn’t know who reached out first, but their hands found each other, saber-calloused fingers curling into tight grips as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

It felt like half an eternity, until the door opened and Satine looked out again.

“It’s a yes,” she said, and Obi-Wan’s legs nearly gave out from under him because of the immense relief. Ahsoka turned into his side, hugging him, and he put his arm around her shoulders, squeezing tight before he had to let go.

“Go and tell Master Yoda,” he said to her, a smile on his face mirrored by her own. She took off with a nod, and he watched her leave for a moment before he turned to Satine.

“I imagine there are now quite a few details to our membership that need to be hammered out?” he said with a grin.

“Some, yes,” Satine said, a small grin on her own face. “Now come, you wouldn’t want to keep your new co-representatives waiting, would you?”

[newstfionline]

Aung San Suu Kyi, a Much-Changed Icon, Evades Rohingya Accusations

By Richard C. Paddock and Hannah Beech, NY Times, Sept. 18, 2017

NAYPYIDAW, Myanmar--Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate and de facto leader of Myanmar, stood before a room of government officials and foreign dignitaries on Tuesday to at last, after weeks of international urging, address the plight of the country’s Rohingya ethnic minority.

But those who expected Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi to deliver an eloquent requiem for an oppressed people were disappointed.

In her speech, delivered in crisp English and often directly inviting foreign listeners to “join us” in addressing Myanmar’s problems, she steadfastly refused to criticize the Myanmar military, which has been accused of a vast campaign of killing, rape and village burning.

“The security forces have been instructed to adhere strictly to the code of conduct in carrying out security operations, to exercise all due restraint and to take full measures to avoid collateral damage and the harming of innocent civilians,” she said.

As she spoke, more than 400,000 Rohingya, a Muslim minority long repressed by the Buddhists who dominate Myanmar, had fled a military massacre that the United Nations has called a “textbook example of ethnic cleansing.” The lucky ones are suffering in makeshift camps in Bangladesh where there is not nearly enough food or medical aid.

A stark satellite analysis by Human Rights Watch shows that at least 210 of their villages have been burned to the ground since the offensive began on Aug. 25. Bangladeshi officials say that land mines had been planted on Myanmar’s side of the border, where the Rohingya are fleeing.

Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi tried to mollify her critics by saying she was committed to restoring peace and the rule of law.

“We condemn all human rights violations and unlawful violence,” she said. “We feel deeply for the suffering of all the people caught up in the conflict.”

But, asking why the world did not acknowledge the progress made in her country, she also boasted that Muslims living in the violence-torn area had ample access to health care and radio broadcasts.

It was a remarkable parroting of the language of the generals who locked her up for the better part of two decades, and in the process made a political legend of her: the regal prisoner of conscience who vanquished the military with no weapons but her principles.

But she is also the daughter of the assassinated independence hero Aung San, who founded the modern Burmese Army. And she is a member of the country’s elite--from the highest class of the ethnic Bamar Buddhist majority.

Officials in Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s government have accused the Rohingya, who have suffered decades of persecution and have been mostly stripped of their citizenship, of faking rape and burning their own houses in a bid to hijack international public opinion. She has done nothing to correct the record.

A Facebook page associated with her office suggested that international aid groups were colluding with Rohingya militants, whose attack on Myanmar police posts and an army base precipitated the fierce military counteroffensive. In a statement, her government labeled the insurgent strikes “brutal acts of terrorism.”

It has been a stunning reversal for Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi, 72, who was once celebrated alongside the likes of Nelson Mandela and Mother Teresa. The 1991 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to her for her “nonviolent struggle for democracy and human rights.”

There were worrisome signs from the moment she entered a power-sharing agreement with the military after her National League for Democracy won the 2015 elections.

Myanmar’s generals--who ruled the country for nearly half a century and turned a resource-rich land also known as Burma into an economic failure--stage-managed every facet of the political transition. The Tatmadaw, as the Myanmar Army is known, made sure to keep the most important levers of power for itself.

It also effectively relegated Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi to the post of state counselor by designing a Constitution that kept her from the presidency.

“It’s always a dance with the generals,” said U Win Htein, an N.L.D. party elder. “She needs to be very quick on her feet.”

“The army, they are watching her every word,” he said. “One misstep on the Muslim issue, and they can make their move.”

Yet even before the compromises that accompanied her ascension to power, Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi was already distancing herself from the hopes invested in her by the rest of the world.

“Let me be clear that I would like to be seen as a politician, not some human rights icon,” she said in an interview shortly after her release from house arrest in 2010.

Such a recasting of her role has disappointed Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s fellow Nobel Peace Prize laureates. In an open letter, Desmond Tutu, the South African former archbishop, advised his “dearly beloved younger sister” that “if the political price of your ascension to the highest office in Myanmar is your silence, the price is surely too steep.”

Muhammad Yunus, the Bangladeshi social entrepreneur and recipient of the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize, was even more pointed.

“She should not have received a Nobel Peace Prize if she says, sorry, I’m a politician, and the norms of democracy don’t suit me,” he said in a telephone interview with The New York Times. “The whole world stood by her for decades, but today she has become the mirror image of Aung San Suu Kyi by destroying human rights and denying citizenship to the Rohingya.”

“All we can do,” he said, “is pray for the return of the old Aung San Suu Kyi.”

Through all of the current Rohingya crisis, and a swatch of military offensives against other ethnic armed groups, she was taken pains to publicly support the military.

“We do not have any trust in Aung San Suu Kyi because she was born into the military,” said Hkapra Hkun Awng, a leader of the Kachin ethnicity from northern Myanmar, one of more than a dozen minorities whose rebel armies have fought the Tatmadaw over the decades. “She is more loyal to her own people than to the ethnics. Her blood is thicker than a promise of national reconciliation.”

Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi has largely shielded herself from the media and has holed up in Naypyidaw, Myanmar’s bunkered capital, which was unveiled more than a decade ago by a junta paranoid that the former capital, Yangon, might be vulnerable to foreign invasion.

Earlier this month, Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi chose not to attend the United Nations General Assembly, where her stance on the Rohingya would surely have met with criticism. Just a year ago, as the nation’s new civilian leader, she attended the annual assembly and was celebrated by world leaders.