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yr-obedt-cicero · 1 year

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A recording of Hamilton's days following the duel

July 8th, 1804

Sunday morning, Hamilton walked with Eliza “over all the pleasant scenes” of the Grange estate, and returned home at noon. He read the morning service of the Episcopal church. The hours until evening were spent “in kind companionship” with his family. And at the end of the day, Hamilton gathered his children around him under a near tree, he laid with them upon the grass until it turned dark. [x] According to Alexander Hamilton Jr. in an interview; “Col. Smith, son in-law of John Adams, had dined with us, and the result of a conversation on the subject was a tacit agreement on my father's part not to fight.” [x]

July 9th, 1804

Monday morning, Hamilton left Eliza at the Grange and rode down to lower Manhattan, to his town house at 54 Cedar Street with his four eldest sons. After taking care of his urgent clients and affairs, he drafted his will.

Source — Library of Congress, Digital Collections. Alexander Hamilton Papers: Miscellany, 1711-1820; Hamilton, Alexander; Last will and testament

In the Name of God Amen! I Alexander Hamilton of the City of New York Counsellor at Law do make this my last Will and Testament as follows. First I appoint John B Church Nicholas Fish and Nathaniel Pendleton of the City aforesaid Esquires to be Executors and Trustees of this my Will and I devise to them their heirs and Assigns, as joint Tenants and not as Tenants in common, All my Estate real and personal whatsoever and wheresoever upon Trust at their discretion to sell and dispose of the same, at such time and times in such manner and upon such terms as they the Survivors and Survivor shall think fit and out of the proceeds to pay all the Debts which I shall owe at the time of my decease, in whole, if the fund shall be sufficient, proportionally, if it shall be insufficient, and the residue, if any there shall be to pay and deliver to my excellent and dear Wife Elizabeth Hamilton.

Though if it shall please God to spare my life I may look for a considerable surplus out of my present property—Yet if he should speedily call me to the eternal wor[l]d, a forced sale as is usual may possibly render it insufficient to satisfy my Debts. I pray God that something may remain for the maintenance and education of my dear Wife and Children. But should it on the contrary happen that there is not enough for the payment of my Debts, I entreat my Dear Children, if they or any of them shall ever be able, to make up the Deficiency. I without hesitation commit to their delicacy a wish which is dictated by my own. Though conscious that I have too far sacrificed the interests of my family to public avocations & on this account have the less claim to burthen my Children, yet I trust in their magnanimity to appreciate as they ought this my request. In so unfavourable an event of things, the support of their dear Mother with the most respectful and tender attention is a duty all the sacredness of which they will feel. Probably her own patrimonial resources will preserve her from Indigence. But in all situations they are charged to bear in mind that she has been to them the most devoted and best of mothers. In Testimony whereof I have hereunto subscribed my hand the Ninth day of July in the year of our lord One thousand Eight hundred & four.

Alexander Hamilton

Signed sealed published & declared as and for his last Will and Testament in our presence who have subscribed the same in his presence.

The words John B Church being above interlined.

Dominick T Blake

Graham Newell

Theo B Valleau

Source — Last Will and Testament of Alexander Hamilton, [9 July 1804]

According to John C. Hamilton, while he was executing it, a friend came in and related to him his fear of an intended fraud. Hamilton took him by the arm and said, “Let us walk past the counting-room of these people. Perhaps, on seeing us together, they may think it expedient to do you justice.” The expedient succeeded. [x]

In the afternoon, the regulations of the duel were finalized by Van Nass and Pendleton. [x] Hamilton wrote that Assignment of Debts and Grant of Power of Attorney would be placed on John B. Church. This was included in a list of seven items given to Nathaniel Pendleton. [x]

Know all Men by these Presents, That I Alexander Hamilton of the City of New York Counsellor at law, in consideration of one Dollar to me in hand paid by John B Church Esquire, (the receipt whereof is hereby acknowleged) have bargained sold assigned and conveyed and hereby do bargain sell assign & convey to the said John B Church all and singular the debts due owing and payable to me: which are specified in the schedule hereunto annexed to be by him collected and the proceeds applied first towards the payment of all and every the debt and debts which I owe to my household and other servants and labourers, and to the Woman who washes for Mrs. Hamilton—and secondly towards the satisfaction and discharge of certain accommodation notes made by me and indorsed by him and which have been or shall be discounted in and by the Manhattan Bank and the Office of Discount & Deposit of the Bank of the United States in the City of New York. And for this purpose I do hereby constitute and appoint him my Attorney to ask demand sue for recover and receive the said Debts and every of them and upon receipt thereof or any part thereof to make and give acquittances. In Witness whereof I have hereunto subscribed & set my hand and seal the Ninth day of July in the year of our lord One thousand Eight hundred & four.

A. Ham⟨ilton⟩

Source — Assignment of Debts and Grant of Power of Attorney to John B. Church, [9 July 1804]

The last remaining hours of the day were spent with his old Treasury protégé, Oliver Wolcott Jr., who later wrote; “Hamilton spent the afternoon & evening of Monday with our friends at my House in Company with Mr. Hopkinson of Phil’. He was uncommonly cheerful and gay The duel had been determined on for ten days.” [x]

July 10th, 1804

The following document is undated, but is theorized to have been composed or finished on Hamilton's last work day, Tuesday. Hamilton wrote a list of reasonings as to why he accepted the challenge;

Source — New York Historical Society. Alexander Hamilton statement on impending duel with Aaron Burr, undated, [July 10, 1804(?)]

On my expected interview with Col Burr, I think it proper to make some remarks explanatory of my conduct, motives and views.

I am certainly desirous of avoiding this interview, for the most cogent reasons.

1 My religious and moral principles are strongly opposed to the practice of Duelling, and it would even give me pain to be obliged to shed the blood of a fellow creature in a private combat forbidden by the laws.

2 My wife and Children are extremely dear to me, and my life is of the utmost importance to them, in various views.

3 I feel a sense of obligation towards my creditors; who in case of accident to me, by the forced sale of my property, may be in some degree sufferers. I did not think my self at liberty, as a man of probity, lightly to expose them to this hazard.

4 I am conscious of no ill-will to Col Burr, distinct from political opposition, which, as I trust, has proceeded from pure and upright motives.

Lastly, I shall hazard much, and can possibly gain nothing by the issue of the interview.

But it was, as I conceive, impossible for me to avoid it. There were intrinsick difficulties in the thing, and artificial embarrassments, from the manner of proceeding on the part of Col Burr.

Intrinsick—because it is not to be denied, that my animadversions on the political principles character and views of Col Burr have been extremely severe, and on different occasions, I, in common with many others, have made very unfavourable criticisms on particular instances of the private conduct of this Gentleman.

In proportion as these impressions were entertained with sincerity and uttered with motives and for purposes, which might appear to me commendable, would be the difficulty (until they could be removed by evidence of their being erroneous), of explanation or apology. The disavowal required of me by Col Burr, in a general and indefinite form, was out of my power, if it had really been proper for me to submit to be so questionned; but I was sincerely of opinion, that this could not be, and in this opinion, I was confirmed by that of a very moderate and judicious friend whom I consulted. Besides that Col Burr appeared to me to assume, in the first instance, a tone unnecessarily peremptory and menacing, and in the second, positively offensive. Yet I wished, as far as might be practicable, to leave a door open to accommodation. This, I think, will be inferred from the written communications made by me and by my direction, and would be confirmed by the conversations between Mr van Ness and myself, which arose out of the subject.

I am not sure, whether under all the circumstances I did not go further in the attempt to accommodate, than a pun[c]tilious delicacy will justify. If so, I hope the motives I have stated will excuse me.

It is not my design, by what I have said to affix any odium on the conduct of Col Burr, in this case. He doubtless has heared of animadversions of mine which bore very hard upon him; and it is probable that as usual they were accompanied with some falshoods. He may have supposed himself under a necessity of acting as he has done. I hope the grounds of his proceeding have been such as ought to satisfy his own conscience.

I trust, at the same time, that the world will do me the Justice to believe, that I have not censured him on light grounds, or from unworthy inducements. I certainly have had strong reasons for what I may have said, though it is possible that in some particulars, I may have been influenced by misconstruction or misinformation. It is also my ardent wish that I may have been more mistaken than I think I have been, and that he by his future conduct may shew himself worthy of all confidence and esteem, and prove an ornament and blessing to his Country.

As well because it is possible that I may have injured Col Burr, however convinced myself that my opinions and declarations have been well founded, as from my general principles and temper in relation to similar affairs—I have resolved, if our interview is conducted in the usual manner, and it pleases God to give me the opportunity, to reserve and throw away my first fire, and I have thoughts even of reserving my second fire—and thus giving a double opportunity to Col Burr to pause and to reflect.

It is not however my intention to enter into any explanations on the ground. Apology, from principle I hope, rather than Pride, is out of the question.

To those, who with me abhorring the practice of Duelling may think that I ought on no account to have added to the number of bad examples—I answer that my relative situation, as well in public as private aspects, enforcing all the considerations which constitute what men of the world denominate honor, impressed on me (as I thought) a peculiar necessity not to decline the call. The ability to be in future useful, whether in resisting mischief or effecting good, in those crises of our public affairs, which seem likely to happen, would probably be inseparable from a conformity with public prejudice in this particular.

Source — Statement on Impending Duel with Aaron Burr, [28 June–10 July 1804]

Hamilton ran into a family friend and client on Broadway, Dirck Ten Broeck, who reminded him that he had forgotten to deliver a promised legal opinion. Afterward, Broeck reflected with astonishment on Hamilton's reaction; “He was really ashamed of his neglect, but [said] that I must call on him the next day, Wednesday—(the awful fatal day)—at 10 o'clock, when he would sit down with me, lock the door, and then we would finish the business.” [x]

Hamilton wrote to Theodore Sedgwick, his friend of many years, who had been the channel of his most useful communications on the policy of the country; thus showing that, to the latest moment, his thoughts were upon that which had formed the leading topic of the Federalist—“the utility of the Union to the political prosperity of the whole American people.” [x] Since one purpose of the duel was to prepare to head off a secessionist threat, he warned Sedgwick against any such movement among New England Federalists.

Source — Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston. Letter from Alexander Hamilton to Theodore Sedgwick, 10 July 1804.

New York July 10. 1804

My Dear Sir

I have received two letters from you since we last saw each other—that of the latest date being the 24 of May. I have had in hand for some time a long letter to you, explaining my view of the course and tendency of our Politics, and my intentions as to my own future conduct. But my plan embraced so large a range that owing to much avocation, some indifferent health, and a growing distaste for Politics, the letter is still considerably short of being finished. I write this now to satisfy you, that want of regard for you has not been the cause of my silence.

I will here express but one sentiment, which is, that Dismembrement of our Empire will be a clear sacrifice of great positive advantages, without any counterballancing good; administering no relief to our real Disease; which is Democracy, the poison of which by a subdivision will only be the more concentered in each part, and consequently the more virulent.

King is on his way for Boston where you may chance to see him, and hear from himself his sentiments.

God bless you

A H

Source — Alexander Hamilton to Theodore Sedgwick, [July 10, 1804]

Hamilton then saw Judah Hammond, who was a clerk in AH's law office, where he drafted an elaborate opinion in a legal matter. Hammond later recalled that; “The last time General Hamilton was in the office was in the early part of July 1804, in the afternoon. I was the only person remaining in the office with him. The last thing he did there, in his professional business he did at my desk and by my side. Even the place seems sacred to my memory. The office was at Number twelve in Garden Street, opposite the Church Grounds. The building has been since removed. It was near sunset, the evening bright and serene. The setting sun approached the margin of the horizon, shedding his last rays on the beautiful objects illustrated by his departing splendours. At this closing of the day, when we love to linger in its pleasures, General Hamilton came to my desk, in the tranquil manner usual with him, and gave me a business paper with his instructions, concerning it. I saw no change in his appearance. These were his last moments in his place of business” [x]

According to John C. Hamilton; “—after waiting upon his faithful friend, Oliver Wolcott, at the close of an entertainment given by him, [...] made his last visit. It was to Colonel [Robert] Troup, the companion of his early years.” [x] For weeks, Troup had lain bedridden with a grave illness that Hamilton feared might prove mortal. When he dropped by to visit Troup, Hamilton did not mention the duel and overflowed Troup with medical suggestions;

“The General's visit lasted more than half an hour; and after making particular inquiries respecting the state of my complaint, he favored me with his advice as to the course which he thought would best conduce to the reestablishment of my health. But the whole tenor of the General's deportment during the visit manifested such composure and cheerfulness of mind as to leave me without any suspicion of the rencontre that was depending.”

Source — William and Mary Quarterly, Journal

Afterwards, Hamilton returned to his townhouse. Pendleton found him there and attempted to discuss with him and make a final attempt to dissuade Hamilton from his decision to delope during the duel. Nevertheless, Hamilton insisted he would fire in the air. When Pendleton protested, Hamilton indicated that his mind was made up; “My friend,” he told Pendleton, “it is the effect of a religious scruple and does not admit of reasoning. It is useless to say more on the subject as my purpose is definitely fixed.” [x]

At 10 p.m, Hamilton - even after already writing Eliza a farewell letter dated on the fourth - sat down in his study upstairs and took his quill once more to pen another letter but in favor of Anne Mitchell, Hamilton's cousin, and his largest supporter in his boyhood.

Source — A letter from Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton, dated July 4, 1804. Courtesy of the Library of Congress Manuscripts Division.

My beloved Eliza

Mrs. Mitchel is the person in the world to whom as a friend I am under the greatest Obligations. I have ⟨not⟩ hitherto done my ⟨duty⟩ to her. But ⟨resolved⟩ to repair my omission as much as ⟨possible,⟩ I have encouraged her to come to ⟨this Country⟩ and intend, if it shall be ⟨in my po⟩wer to render the Evening of her days ⟨c⟩omfortable. But if it shall please God to put this out of my power and to inable you hereafter to be of ⟨s⟩ervice to her, I entreat you to d⟨o⟩ it and to treat ⟨h⟩er with the tenderness of a Sister.

This is my second letter.

The Scrup⟨les of a Christian have deter⟩mined me to expose my own li⟨fe to any⟩ extent rather than subject my s⟨elf to the⟩ guilt of taking the life of ⟨another.⟩ This must increase my hazards & redoubles my pangs for you. But you had rather I should die inno⟨c⟩ent than live guilty. Heaven can pre⟨se⟩rve me ⟨and I humbly⟩ hope will ⟨b⟩ut in the contrary ⟨e⟩vent, I charge you to remember that you are a Christian. God’s Will be done. The will of a merciful God must be good.

Once more Adieu My Darling darling Wife

A H

Tuesday Evening 10 oCl⟨ock⟩

⟨Mrs Ha⟩milton

Source — Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Hamilton, [10 July 1804]

Hamilton descended from his study, and entered the parlor downstairs, there he found his son reading a book. Hamilton watched him pensively for a few moments, before he leaned over his book and smiled as he asked him if he would sleep with him. [x] The son in this story is Hamilton's fifth child, John Church Hamilton, who later recalled the same incident in an interview;

I recall a single incident about it with full clearness. [...] The day before the duel I was sitting in a room, when, at a slight noise, I turned around and saw my father in the doorway, standing silently there and looking at me with a most sweet and beautiful expression of countenance. It was full of tenderness, and without any of the business pre-occupation he sometimes had. “John,” he said, when I had discovered him, “won't you come and sleep with me to-night?” His voice was frank as if he had been my brother instead of my father. That night I went to his bed, and in the morning very early he awakened me, and taking my hands in his palms, all four hands extended, he said and told me to repeat the Lord's Prayer. Seventy-five years have since passed over my head, and I have forgotten many things, but not that tender expression when he stood looking at me in the door nor the prayer we made together the morning before the duel. I do not so well recollect seeing him lie upon his deathbed, though I was there.

Source — Interview with John Church Hamilton, reminiscences about his father.

July 11th, 1804

After Hamilton retired to bed with John uncommonly early, he awoke quietly at three o'clock the next morning. Hamilton reportedly had; “some imperfect sleep; but the succeeding morning his symptoms were aggravated, attended however with a diminution of pain. His mind retained all its usual strength and composure. The great source of his anxiety seemed to be in his sympathy with his half distracted wife and children.” [x] He soon awoke John and took his hands in his palms, “all four hands extended”, he spoke the Lord's Prayer, as John repeated after him. Afterwards he asked his son to light a candle, John asked him what was the matter and Hamilton had lied to him claiming that his little sister, Eliza Hamilton Holly, was ill and had been taken out of town. And that his mother had sent for him and that he was going out with Doctor Hosack. After the candle was lit he sat down and wrote a hymn which he had but just finished when Pendleton and Hosack called for him. The hymn was put in his will where it was found by his wife later on. [x]

Main sources:

Life of Alexander Hamilton, by John Church Hamilton.

The intimate life of Alexander Hamilton, by Allan McLane Hamilton.

Alexander Hamilton, by Ron Chernow.

A Collection of the Facts and Documents, Relative to the Death of Major-General Alexander Hamilton, by William Coleman.

Four letters on the death of Alexander Hamilton 1804, David B. Ogden.

#amrev #american history #the duel #alexander hamilton #historical alexander hamilton #john church hamilton #nathaniel pendleton #judah hammond #theodore sedgwick #robert troup #oliver wolcott #elizabeth schuyler #elizabeth hamilton #history #txt #cicero's history lessons

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jess-moloney · 5 months

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I can't figure out what it is that Jess does that she is also making money to sustain her lifestyle.

She has to spend thousands of dollars to upkeep her face thanks to the cosmetic surgery she's gotten. She definitely gets cheek fillers and she would also have to keep getting fillers for her lips.

Look at her cheeks here. This isn't natural or normal. This is a sign of filler. You can look at her cheeks in lots of photos and see that it bulges abnormally under her eyes.

On top of that, she is somehow affording:

The ability to renew a business license for at least one business (Jess Moloney Management) and office space.

If you look at public records you can actually see that she's lost money between 2021 and 2022. Which means that she's lost work/clients/any number of things. This isn't a woman who is running a thriving business whatsoever. This is also net assets so it wouldn't be cash in the bank. Still, this indicates she's not making a lot of money on this business anyway she's probably putting more into it than she is making a profit out of it.

You can also see she's changed the address of the office several times over the years starting from more expensive locations to less expensive ones. This business is not operating at a profit it's operating at a loss. Someone with a thriving career and client list wouldn't be having profits go down.

I also, for the life of me, cannot find a physical address or location for Ice Studios. There seems to be one, somewhere, as they do promote it as a place/building where Renell takes their photos but it also doesn't seem to exist. Any business address I can find for Ice Studios goes back to the management company that filed for the business (and is not Ice Studios it's their offices). I can find a very old filing address for Ice Studios years ago but it's for a house in Brooklyn and I'm assuming where Renell lived when the business was first filed.

Since the house is not available I would assume that Renell still lives in that location (it's estimated to be worth half a million dollars) but does she run the studio out of her house? Is there an office location? Why doesn't this business have an office location when there seems to be a studio somewhere where photos are being taken? That also doesn't make any sense. Not all businesses need to have an office location, some can be run out of the home, but since Renell is clearly taking photos somewhere and there is a business called Ice Studios (with that word in the name) you would have to assume there is a photo studio location and/or filming (since they seem to produce videos as well).

Still, all of these things cost money, and it does seem that the place that Jess currently has listed as her office (for Moloney Management) has residential/living space. Though I can't get the exact price on that address, the surrounding space for sale is listed as £684,000 - £756,000. If she didn't outright buy a house/space there she's certainly paying rent of some sort and it's not going to be a low number. Nor is it going to be low if there's a studio space in NYC and she has to pay at least %50 of it because she's %50 owner of Ice Studios.

With all of this evidence that her own business is operating at a loss and there's little to no evidence that Ice Studios makes any sort of profit on anything....how is she affording any of this stuff without:

A massive trust fund that she has for some reason

Scamming people out of money and getting them to "invest" in her "business"

Taking Jamie's money and/or making him pay her for "management services"

Subletting office space/residential space since she clearly doesn't use it (but not legally since her name is still listed as owning that space/house)

A combination of these things

I'm very confused as to what she does as a job that justifies her keeping this business open and running, out of England of all places (with a residential space that she could potentially live in) when she's basically never in England and when/if she is, it's with Jamie and for short periods. We never see her in this office/house. We never see her at Ice Studios or Renell's house (I guess one could assume that Renell operates her studio out of her house but it's a small house so I would be surprised). None of this makes any sense. What exactly is her source of income that she can also continue to run these businesses and live this lifestyle when by all accounts she doesn't even have a job?

#jess moloney #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #ice studios #thoughts

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gaykarstaagforever · 2 months

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FREE ON YOUTUBE

Cabin Boy (1994)

"Come on over here, honey. You've managed to charm me with your moronic innocence."

I was 12 when this...whatever it is...came out. My parents were real sticklers for the whole 13 part of the PG-13 rating, so I didn't see it at the time. And because this was 1994, the Internet was just a thing the Pentagon used to send racist memes to itself, so I don't remember even hearing about this thing.

...Or about how, at the time, it was a giant bomb, and widely considered one of the "worst movies EVAR" by that era's smug hipsters who had found a way to get paid to compile those lists.

(Yes, we had them back then, too. They even got away with being called "journalists" back then, like the thing they were doing was some kind of public service. It was not, by any stretch of the concept. But they published it in newspapers alongside actual headline news, so we didn't think about it and let that happen.)

Speaking of people letting things happen to them - so, point is, I had no idea what the hell Cabin Boy was before I watched it. If I had, would I have watched it? I don't automatically trust the opinions of anyone who isn't me. But I also don't seek out media that has an overwhelming reputation for being frustrating and stupid, because that often means I too will find it frustrating and stupid. So I don't know if the critical consensus would have warned me off.

What I do know is, the first 40 minutes of this 80 minute movie (with extended credit sequences) plays host to some of the most unbearably unfunny anti-jokes I have ever endured.

Nothing works in the first half of this. They don't follow through whatsoever on their already idiotic premise (a 'Fancy Lad' accidentally ends up on a rough fishing ship). The only tone is "and then THAT happened!" The cast acts like they're from at least three very different movies. David Letterman has a cameo where he is David Letterman for a scene, and it doesn't help anything in any way (star / writer Chris Elliot and his writing partner got Tim Burton to produce this mess with $10 million of someone else's money, specifically because Chris and the other guy were staff writers for Letterman's show).

There is exactly one joke that lands in the first half, and it is when Andy Richter, playing "a big stupid guy" (brilliant) does what he thinks is a hulu dance. Andy Richter silently wiggling is literally as good as it gets. I was ready to give up.

....But then came the weird puppets. While the first half of this experiment is an exhausting array of sitcom situations almost completely devoid of humor or anything else, it at one point suddenly becomes a vulgar children's adventure movie, if directed by Terry Gilliam. The fantastical costumes and props and puppets and matte paintings and sets are all great, with a specific and distinctive painted storybook style, and the filming and staging of them is as good as Hollywood gets. There are ice giants; a heroic shark-man; the Hindu goddess Kali, who lives in a cave and has sex with wrecked sailors, while her giant husband is out selling appliances (I think) to other fantasy creatures. All of this is ridiculous, but in the fun, good way. Some real professionals worked hard on these aspects of the film, and that is perhaps the Tim Burton production shining through?

What a shame it is all in service of this particular movie. Truly, no one has ever put in this much work for so little.

The rest of the movie also improves in the second half. While there are no believable character arcs to speak of, at some point the titular Cabin Boy and the crew of fishermen who hate him settle in to a begrudging respect for each-other, and their interactions after this point are, besides the production design, the best part of the movie. The Cabin Boy, weekly defined at the start as a pampered naive jackass, becomes the standard Chris Elliot ensemble character, an eccentric dope with a heart of gold. Chris Elliot is good at that character, which is why he always plays that character. And I like him as that character. Even when he's given nothing to do but bounce from one nonsensical mess to another. And this group of skilled character actors do the best they can to give depth to this razor-thin material.

The jokes get better, too. The story of where the shark-man came from is solid. As is the Cabin Boy using his swimmer love-interest as a rideable watercraft. These are the kind of charmingly over-the-top things a movie like this should be filled with. Unfortunately, there's just not a lot of them.

In looking up how and why this movie happened, I found this retrospective from The Ringer from 2018, aligned with the 25th anniversary Blu-ray rerelease. The premise of that piece is that Cabin Boy is an underrated, ahead-of-its-time anti-comedy that paved the way for Adult Swim and what people used to do on YouTube 10 years ago, and that you'd get it if you were cool.

I'm going to respectfully disagree with that stupid bullshit, you idiot. I appreciate that Elliot was aiming for the kind of snide, winkingly-ironic, piss-take-of-everything comedy that Gen X just couldn't get enough of in 1994. And that can be done in a way that transcends that specific mode and era of media and delights a general audience: think Weird Al, and the early seasons of The Simpsons. But it is also possible to try for that and just completely fuck it up. And I think that is, for the most part, what happened here.

If you are of a type that finds whatever the first part of this movie is trying to do funny and effective, great. Maybe you saw it as a kid, and as a kid who has no standards and missed all the random stupid sex jokes, it really connected with you. Fine. Comedy, and how we come to it, is subjective. But you were / are clearly part of a niche audience, because this thing made back $4 million of a $10 million budget. Why make a general release movie of this at all, if you're not interested in appealing to anyone who doesn't already think David Letterman's dickholery was the height of comedy? I realize he was popular as a latenight host. But that style doesn't translate into a good comedy movie on its own. You have to balance it out with wit and heart and gleefulness, and make an easy-to-follow narrative out of all that.

I know that, because in 1994 they tried to avoid having to do that for 40 minutes, and it fell so flat that even they stopped and made a better fantasy action movie with the rest of the budget.

Cabin Boy is certainly worth seeing, if you can make it through the first half. There is a fun and inventive kids' adventure movie floating around in here, like a delicious hotdog spinning around in an overflowing toilet. In that, it is certainly a one-of-a-kind piece of art. Because why would anyone ever make something like this, ever again?

Holy hell.

#cabin boy #free on YouTube #1990s #chris elliot

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cookie-waffle · 3 months

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I don’t like cops and I think the entire system needs a huge reform. They don’t get mental health training. They don’t get enough training for deescalation (if any) And that’s not even mentioning how goddamn racist and lazy they can be. They murder innocent people and pets all the goddamn time and get off scott free. Fuck cops.

But I ALSO think anyone who claims that no organized protection for the public whatsoever is somehow better is a goddamn idiot.

The honor system is not gonna work outside of smaller communities. You really think the general public is gonna put in the scientific research and funds into finding murderers, kidnappers, and rapists? You think the neighbor is always gonna barge into your house and save you when someone breaks in? Diffusion of responsibility, especially in densely populated areas, pretty much assures us that every day average citizens are not gonna do a great job at what cops (are supposed to) do. Not to mention, humans are animals and animals are often frightened. Even if someone witnesses a violent crime, they may be too scared to do anything to help. Or be too physically weak or outnumbered. There’s also physically disabled people who live alone and would not be able to defend themselves against an able-bodied attacker.

Cops suck shit, but I really don’t think straight up anarchy is gonna make things much better, if at all. There should still be a system in place to help people who are in danger and deescalate bad situations before they turn deadly. It should be a MUCH BETTER system than we have now, but still some kinda system. I will never trust society to universally agree to use an honor system. Most people are not living in tight-knit tribes anymore like we were evolved to, and diffusion of responsibility is something that can actually end your life if there is no service to call for help.

Maybe there can be a new type of social worker that specializes in deescalation (and defense if needed) who are highly trained to avoid using violence unless there is absolutely no other choice. Idk, anything that isn’t cops or the honor system. I would like to feel safe while out in society without worrying the police will murder my dog if I call them.

#I really think more people seriously need to think critically about this.#cops being unfit for a healthy society doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have any public protection at all

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uniqueiasblog · 11 months

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Cracking the MPPSC Exam: How Coaching in Indore Can Make a Difference

Cracking the MPPSC Exam is no easy feat. It requires rigorous preparation and intense focus to succeed in this highly competitive exam. With so much competition, it can be difficult for aspirants to stand out from the crowd and secure a top rank in the MPPSC Exam. This is where coaching institutes come into play, as they provide guidance and resources that are essential for success on such an important examination.

Also Read: UPSC Coaching in Jabalpur

Coaching centers in Indore offer a number of advantages over self-study methods when preparing for the MPPSC Exam. Firstly, experienced faculty members at these institutes have extensive knowledge about all aspects of this exam – from syllabus details to paper pattern analysis – which helps students understand what needs to be done during their preparations more effectively than if they were studying alone at home or with friends/family members who may not possess such expertise themselves. Additionally, many coaching centers also provide mock tests that allow students to practice their skills before taking on actual questions during exams; this gives them an edge over those who do not use such resources while preparing for tests like these since it allows them time to get familiarized with question types & formats beforehand so they can better tackle any surprises thrown their way by tricky questions!

Furthermore, some reputed institutions even offer specialized classes focusing solely on topics related directly towards cracking certain sections of exams like Maths or English Language; having access to dedicated sessions focused specifically towards helping you excel will definitely give you an advantage when compared against other candidates attempting the same section without any extra help whatsoever!

Last but most importantly though - attending regular lectures conducted by qualified teachers ensures proper discipline & dedication amongst aspiring individuals looking forward crack competitive examinations like MMPPC successfully within a given timeframe (which often falls short due to the lackluster approach taken by learners). All said above points make clear why investing your valuable time & money into quality training programs offered through MPPSC coaching Institutes in Indore city would prove beneficial long run i.e. ultimately leading toward a successful attempt made upon the prestigious Madhya Pradesh Public Service Commission Examination (MMPPC).

About the Author:

Unique IAS Study Circle, led by renowned educator Gaurav Marwaha, is a leading coaching institute based in Bhopal, offering comprehensive UPSC and MPPSC coaching. With a stellar track record of success, Unique IAS Study Circle has established itself as a trusted destination for aspirants seeking top-notch guidance for civil services exams. With a dedicated team of experienced faculty, the institute provides specialized coaching for UPSC and MPPSC exams, catering to the unique requirements of each exam. The meticulously designed curriculum, coupled with innovative teaching methodologies, equips students with the necessary knowledge and skills to excel in their exams.

#UPSC Coaching in Jabalpur

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mcknightmclean69 · 1 year

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byrne96robertson · 2 years

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#amazon must haves

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barker07mcgowan · 2 years

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#ull #rolex project x daytona limited edition

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viborgmeredith0 · 2 years

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#ull #Nairobi

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dreamdumpster · 2 years

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Demon slayer Hashira Headcannons/scenarios pt 2!!!

The first one blew up like wildfire! I did not expect that whatsoever!!! So why not make another part???

This is a gn! X reader!!!

Mitsuri Kanroji

Tea parties. She loves tea parties she loves when you attend them and she especially loves when there’s Sakura Mochi.

She’s a cuddly teddy bear

You like to buy her gifts, and she’s always so adorable when she receives them.

She is really big on PDA any given chance she will hugs you and kiss you.

No one will ever mess with you. Trust me, she may be super cute like a doll, but she has the strength of Ten men. So if anyone flirts with you, they will never see daylight ever again.

Calls you “love, darling, sweetie, cutsie”

Loves springtime picnics

Cannot go to bed without the teddy bear that’s wearing your scarf.

Loves headpats and forehead kisses.

Shinobu Kocho

She’s pretty down to earth when it comes to love. And pretty oblivious. Sooo it’s all up to you to make the move.

You constantly bug her at the butterfly mansion, she doesn’t mind. She actually enjoys it.

You ask her to give you lessons on medicine

When you both have time off, you both take a stroll at night near the pond and have late night talks as you both look at the fireflies.

One night you decide to confess your feelings and she returns them.

Pinky holds > hand holding

Constant late night walks

You help her in the butterfly infirmary when you become skilled enough

You always surprise her with some sort of flower

Teatime

You always kiss her hand goodnight

She was the one to actually initiate the first kiss

Iguro Obanai

Okay this man is a Kuudere/tsundere and you can’t tell me otherwise

He will do tiny acts of service for you, but make up some lame ass excuse.

His snake likes you.

You’re the one to initiate the first kiss, he was so red.

You didn’t care about his face scar. You just loved him

He is very clingy behind closed doors

When you’re gone he loves staying in your bed because it has your scent.

In public he links your pinkie with his

He lets you play with his hair, he finds it relaxing.

If he gets angry he will give you the silent treatment and you have to guess what’s wrong. It pains you, but you care for him.

Boom! Another one done! I hope you really like it! I will continue to make more of these with various animes! ❤️❤️❤️

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 2 years

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Midsummer

Day four of the February Ficlet Challenge... Elsa and Kristoff...

Elsa drove further along the highway, into the unknown. She didn’t quite trust the GPS to get the right address, but there hadn’t been any cross streets for miles, so she couldn’t have taken a wrong turn. She was singing to herself, since the only radio stations out this far were not exactly to her taste in music. She wasn’t much for public performances, but singing in the car by herself was a little secret indulgence.

Rolling farm fields began giving way to hilly woods. She glanced down at her phone. There was no service whatsoever out here. Probably the hills took care of that. Elsa didn't mind this drive. She liked Anna’s boyfriend--well, now he was her fiance, and by tonight they would be married. Kristoff had said he was from nowhere in particular, but Elsa hadn’t realized that he was really from this far out in the middle of nowhere. He was nice, though, and since Anna had first brought him home, she had trusted him. He had become a good friend, so even though this wedding was a bit sudden, she had given her blessing and jumped at Anna’s request to be her bridesmaid.

“I just wish she would have agreed to ride with me,” Elsa caught herself saying out loud. She sighed. Anna would be there, but she insisted on driving herself so that she could pick up a few last minute items, and she wanted to make sure that someone got there on time so that Kristoff wouldn’t worry.

“In five hundred feet, turn left,” the GPS voice suddenly announced.

Elsa blinked and shook her head. She had zoned out. Lifting her foot off the gas pedal to make sure she had time to turn, she put on the signal despite the complete lack of other cars for miles in either direction. There was a dirt road to the left, but still no houses in sight.

The road was bumpy and rutted, curving this way and that, slowly winding up the hill. The woods began giving way to rocky clearings. Around a rock outcropping, she saw a group of irregular houses, and what she could only guess was a tent for the wedding.

“You have arrived,” the GPS informed her.

“That’s obvious enough,” she muttered at the electronic voice coming from her phone.

She slowed down, the rattle of the gravel quieting down as she pulled to the side of the road at the first house to the right.

Any other cars must be parked elsewhere. She stepped out of the car, and grabbed the dress hanging in the back seat. She needed to find where she could change clothes. Why couldn’t they have planned to at least have an overnight before the ceremony? Anna said she’d never been to this place, either, but Kristoff insisted that they weren’t allowed to be there until right until the ceremony.

***

“Who even does that?” Elsa asked.

“Sorry,” Kristoff apologized, “it’s how my family does things.”

“Where are they from, anyway?”

“Mostly nearby,” Kristoff shrugged. “It’s… kind of their own thing. I guess it’s kind of new. I mean, it’s not new, don’t tell them I said it was new, please…”

“Wait, is this like-”

“It’s a kind of a commune, okay? I promise they don’t do anything too out there. I know there’s that Norwegian movie-”

“I saw it, but it’s Swedish, not Norwegian,” Elsa corrected, immediately realizing she was missing the point.

Kristoff groaned. “Right… People keep talking about that movie when I tell them about where I grew up. I swear it’s nothing like that. I’ve told Anna about what’s going to happen at the wedding, so just… play along?”

***

Elsa stood by her car holding the dress in its plastic cover, looking around. Thankfully it wasn’t raining this week. The place would get entirely too muddy. She could see why Kristoff had brought up that movie. Kristoff didn’t give her bad vibes, unlike- she wouldn’t think about Anna’s ex. She never liked him.

Elsa walked toward the closest house. “Hello?”

She heard some commotion, and some women came out of the house.

“She’s here!” several said.

Elsa smiled nervously. “Is this where I can change?”

“Don’t worry about that,” one woman said, taking the dress from her.

“You can change into that later after the ceremony,” a younger woman assured her.

Kristoff had said to go with it. This was for Anna.

They helped her put on a long, plain tunic. This didn’t seem that strange.

Now one of them was braiding her hair. This was nice, really. Now there was some kind of veil over her head, and they were blindfolding her. Maybe a little creepy now, but she had promised to be understanding. This wasn’t some death cult.

The women led her back outside. Perhaps this was like the idea of not seeing the bride on the wedding day, but more egalitarian? It had been a while now, and maybe Anna was here already. She must be. Someone nearby had started speaking, and everyone else had gone silent. It was surreal, alternating between the people around singing and the one person speaking, and she couldn’t tell where Anna even was. Suddenly, someone grabbed her hands and guided them to some others. This was very odd. But she was supposed to go along with what they were doing. More words. Now everyone was saying something in unison.

She could feel people gathering around her. She was briefly blinded by the sunlight as they removed the blindfold and veil. Everyone cheered.

“Elsa?!” Kristoff exclaimed.

She blinked and smiled. “Kristoff, I said I’d be here. Congratulations!”

“But where’s Anna?” he whispered.

“Wait, what?” Elsa looked around. Everyone was lining up to shake their hands. A cloud of dust was moving along the road in the distance, and she could just start to make out Anna’s car approaching.

“Congratulations, Anna, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” an older woman smiled sweetly, shaking Elsa’s hand.

Elsa looked at Kristoff in a panic.

“Ma, I-”

“I was so worried you wouldn’t want to have a wedding with your family,” she continued.

“Mrs-” Elsa realized she didn’t know anyone’s names. Because why would she?

“Oh, Anna, dear, please call me Bulda!”

“Um, Bulda,” Elsa almost stammered. “I’m not Anna.”

#FFC 2022 #frozen fanfic #elsa #modern au

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chibimyumi · 3 years

Note

Hi, I hope you're doing well and staying healthy. I've read your post about how Elizabeth attacking ciel is sexism. What about Sebastian getting bully by Frances? Frances is a noblewoman grabbing a servant's hair in front of other people. And fans (including me) are like: oh! What a lioness! Even the devil himself is terrified of her! what if it was the other way around? The idea of a nobleman grabbing a governess's hair calling her nasty and indecent makes me uncomfortable and even angry.

【Response to post: Sexism against men and Kuro Sexist jokes】

Dear Anon,

I’m doing well, thank you very much. I hope you too ^^

Your question is a very good one, and it really had me thinking for a while! I myself admittedly do laugh very hard at Sebastian getting a hard time from Frances. But indeed, like you said, it is still bullying, and bullying is bad. In this post-feminist era, we have been so trained to see women bullying men as ‘funny’ or ‘empowering’, but women getting bullied as unambiguously bad instinctively, that sometimes we forget to check our double standards.

Feelings are feelings, we can’t help what we feel. But how come then that to many of us, Frances bullying Sebas is so funny, but Lizzie almost murdering O!Ciel and Nina bullying men not? This post is merely an attempt to explain this feeling for myself too, but hopefully we can all reach SOME explanation together as well???

Let us first look at in what ways Frances has been making Sebastian’s life hard. From all the interactions we have of these two so far, her main points of criticism seem to be his hair and his lack of professionalism.

Slovenly Hair

Sebastian’s hair is something we’ve gotten quite used to now after more than14 years. In Sebastian’s time however, his hair really would have been the height of impropriety for his profession.

Just like I translated O!Ciel’s looks to 2020 standards, I quickly translated Sebas’ hair to 2020 standards as well. Very clean, innit?! Very professional, innit?!

Even without the translation however, if we look at the worst of wigs from the Kuromyus, we can also see how Sebastian’s hair would be atrocious in any formal setting. Look past the fact that these actors are supposed to represent a drawn character. Just imagine being in a fancy restaurant and encountering a dead-spider feather duster on your waiter’s head.... erm....???

Something that is objectively bad on Frances’ end however, is that chapter 14 is not the first time that Frances has seen his ‘slovenly hair’. If his hair really is so unacceptable, as an authority figure Frances has the right to say something about it. However, as it seems, until this point she has never communicated at all (no, “hinting” is not the same as communicating), so Sebas had no way of knowing what he “did wrong”. She immediately grabbed for Sebastian’s hair without mercy, probably because her crept up frustration got the better of her. This is indeed entirely too harsh for a first time call-out, and entirely on Frances.

Much later in the story Frances criticises and touches Sebastian’s hair again, and this time in public while he was infiltrating as a teacher. Here Frances is even publically humiliating Sebastian in front of his students and other high ranking guests.

Especially when you keep in mind that Frances is a noblewoman and Sebas a mere servant, Frances is indeed abusing her power against a servant who cannot strike back at all.

This is indeed power play. However, though it does not justify anything, in the very least her criticism does have ground; Sebas’ hair is by all measures inadequate for any professional setting. Just be nicer about it, Frances.

Useless Butler

Now, let us look at the other reason Frances disapproves of Sebas. Sebastian is a very competent butler according to most people. To Frances however, this claim is empty. When she arrives, parts of the estate have been destroyed and something very literally exploded in her presence.

Even though Sebas is not the person actively causing the explosion or the destruction, as the senior servant of the household, it is literally his job to manage the other servants. So yes, here too, the fact that things can be destroyed in the household because he either hired inadequate staff or because he mismanages his household, DOES INDEED prove he fails at his job. As the aunt of O!Ciel who cares about her nephew AND her paternal home, Frances is in her right to be concerned and call Sebastian out for NOT doing his job.

In chapter 14, Sebastian’s schedule was all over the place and kept changing the plans for Frances. It is no wonder that she would be quite annoyed and doubt Sebastian’s adequateness. When you know your 13 year old nephew’s household is in the hands of somebody so apparently inadequate, anybody would probably be concerned. However annoyed though, Frances does not overstep any boundaries about this specific issue; she is simply supremely unimpressed. Fair enough?

Compliments where due

Something that is quite interesting though, is that despite disapproving of Sebastian, Frances does also know when to compliment him when due. After Sebastian has saved Lizzie’s life without boasting, Frances recognised how the butler does indeed have some value and the correct attitude as a servant.

She says “though you look indecent what you say is true,” and it is yet another jab at the demon’s expense. But here she is also showing that she is willing to acknowledge somebody’s achievements, looking past appearances.

Before Frances leaves, Frances jabs at Sebas a bit again, but she really is not doing anything dickish this time. Instead of making Sebas think she’s simply chosen him as target to be a prick towards, she concretely states why she doubts his professionalism. She mentions the smashed tea set, bare garden and burnt food; mistakes that are objectively unacceptable. Instead of yelling at him, she actually gives him constructive criticism. So here too, Frances is quite stern, but her grounds are solid.

In the Campania arc Sebas shows up again with the hair Frances disapproved of. Frances clearly wants to do something about it again because in her eyes, the butler simply won’t learn. But given the circumstances and Sebastian’s proven usefulness, Frances actually does shelve her agenda. Just like above, here too Frances shows that she is capable of acknowledging somebody despite their looks.

Later when the zombies dramatically outnumbered the living humans, Frances sends Sebas - who had come to her aid - back to her daughter and nephew. By sending Sebas back, Frances also shows that she in fact trusts this ‘slovenly butler’ with the lives of two children she loves deeply. Sebastian protests, but Frances immediately replies: “don’t you trust our ability as swordsmen?” Here what Frances is functionally saying is: “I trust you with your abilities, so you can trust us back.”

In short, Frances is harsh and doing power-play against a servant, but she can shelve her agenda, and does acknowledge Sebas when due.

Contrast to Nina and Lizzie

So now we have seen how Frances bullies Sebastian, and her motivation behind all her points of harshness. As we have seen, Frances’ only points of criticisms are concrete ones; Sebastian’s lack of professionalism in looks, and his lack of professionalism in management. She goes about them too harshly, but all points are legit criticisms, and something Sebas CAN and probably SHOULD work to improve.

Nina

This is in stark contrast with the way Nina bullies her victims. As far as we have seen, none of Nina’s victims have offended her in any way, nor does she ever give any concrete criticism. She has just decided that because men are men, they don’t deserve proper treatment. Even when providing clothes for men is literally part her job, she refuses to provide the ‘professional service’ she is being paid for. And because she is AN EMANCIPATED LESBIAN!!!!!!! #FEMINISM, it’s FINE (!?!?!?)

Unlike with Frances’ criticism of Sebastian’s inadequate hairdo and managing, being ‘men’ is not something any of these men can do anything about (except Sebas, but Nina doesn’t know). Bullying is always wrong, always low. But it’s EVEN lower when you bully somebody for who they are, and not what they do wrong. What does not help is that Nina seems to only be capable of treating people nicely if they happen to be sexuality-wise compatible with her... but if you are, you’ll get molested. What is wrong with you, Nina????

Yes, Frances is saying: “you are a man, and yet your fringe is so long”. So on the most surface level, it is a woman saying this to a man because he is a man. As we later get to know Frances a bit better though, she would be harsh to anybody who looks slovenly. She just has different hairstyles which she considers appropriate for men and women respectively. Had Sebas been a woman and his hair was the ‘feminine equivalent of slovenly’, Frances would most likely have acted exactly the same. So in this sense, unlike with the jokes using Nina and Lizzie, it is not purely: “Haha, girl bullies boii, lol.”

Something else that is terrible is that what Nina does seems to be systemic. Logically it checks out too; it can’t be that only since the past few weeks she’s decided only women and young boys deserve her kind treatment. For all we know, Nina’s been treating the male Phantomhive staff like this for 2-3 years. Sebastian’s comment about Nina thoroughly ignoring men again with “as always” further supports this theory.

With Frances in contrast, in chapter 14 (so barely a year ago in story time), Sebas seemed to have no clue whatsoever about Frances’ terrors. Sebas announced Frances’ arrival to his master and is very calm about it. It was not until O!Ciel alerted Sebas about his aunt that anybody even guessed what hurricane was headed for them. As such, we can safely conclude that Sebas had only been subjected to Frances’ criticism a couple of times, unlike having had to bear with Nina for years.

Yes, Frances still should have communicated, but I already addressed the details above. Still, the point remains that even though Frances is overstepping boundaries and abusing her power, her criticisms are at least not empty.

Lizzie

Lizzie too just like Nina, had zero grounds for showing that much aggression. She did not give anybody the benefit of the doubt, did not communicate, or even so much as give O!Ciel any chance to explain the situation. So far O!Ciel has given Lizzie no reason to think he’d cheat on her, and yet she hurled so much aggression at him Sebas had to intervene.

Still, Lizzie is marginally better than Nina because she is not systemically bullying O!Ciel. It is a one time event. However, this one makes me more annoyed with Yana because it means that even Yana had to use this stale, stale trope of “LOVE TRIANGLE COMEDYYYY”. Have I ever mentioned how MUCH I hate love triangles and jealousy???

Conclusion

Feeling wise, the most important reason for why Sebas being bullied by Frances is funny is probably because of who Sebas is. Sebas is otherwise an all-powerful demon, but to see him inventing colours to shit at Frances - a human Sebas could crush between his fingertips like a cookie - is just hilarious. Had Sebas been a human though, I would not have laughed so hard personally.

Rationally however, Frances is doing power play against a servant who cannot talk back, so it is still bullying, and bullying is inexcusable.The only bit of “right” Frances has is that she does not seem to be systemically bullying Sebastian, and that her criticisms have some ground.

So if Nina and Lizzie’s behaviours played for jokes are like... a -7 and -9 respectively, Frances’ at least scores a -2 for me?

(Yes, as we’re talking about bullying anyway, I just have to make a jab at Vincent.)

Afterword

Something not really related to why “Frances:Bad”, “Nina-Lizzie:Worse”, but I do wish to mention is Yana’s improved drawing skills. I have no proof, but I think it MIGHT have been where this Frances-joke originated.

Yana’s time in the more traditional mindset of manga-worldview really showed, especially at the far beginning. Besides, she was still in the process of finding a way to draw handsome men. In the more traditional mindset of the early 2000s, handsome men were just not supposed to have slicked back hair - “that was reserved for old men and nasty dudes!!” Yana’s discomfort with drawing handsome men with slicked back hair was clearly visible in Sebastian’s early appearances, and making the ‘”hair, back!!! says old-fashioned lady” was potentially even a way of Yana to laugh at herself.

I don’t know who else is old like me and grew up with 80s to early 00s manga, but at the time, hair for handsome men was a BIG deal. In that world ‘slicked back hair’ just carried a certain laughability about it; a “rule of not-cool”. To me at least at the time this ‘laughability’ really resonated with me, and Yana probably also trusted this same ‘unspoken rule’ to resonate with her audiences.

Much later though, Yana clearly grew more comfortable and maybe even fond of slicked back hairstyles as she confidently chose to portray Sebas as ‘appealing’ while wearing his hair in the style Yana previously disliked.

Again, I have no proof, but I can’t help but think that if Kuro had started 10 years later, the running gag revolving Frances might look altogether different.

What do you guys think? ^^ Cheers, and stay healthy!

Character analysis Nina Hopkins

Character analysis Vincent Phantomhive

Sexism against men and Kuro’s sexist jokes

MASTERPOST Gender in Kuroshitsuji

MASTERPOST Analyses & Info

#Kuroshitsuji #Frances #Midford #Sebastian Michaelis #hair #joke #funny #tw bullying mention #Lizzie #Nina Hopkins

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toshootforthestars · 2 years

Text

In his I’m-Sorry-if-You-Were-Offended apology posted on Sunday night to Instagram, podcaster Joe Rogan tried to smooth over the fact that he’s been broadcasting dangerous misinformation on his show, The Joe Rogan Experience. The requirement for him to do anything at all arose only after musicians including Neil Young and Joni Mitchell asked that the streaming service Spotify remove their music after 270 medical experts demanded that the platform establish a clear misinformation policy rather than allowing its shows to “damage public trust in scientific research and sow doubt in the credibility of data-driven guidance.” As Young put it at the time, “They can have Rogan or Young. Not both.”

Spotify, which had bought the exclusive streaming rights to The Joe Rogan Experience in a deal reportedly worth more than $100 million, at first did nothing, then pulled the lever for Rogan. Spotify thus proceeded to pull down Young’s work, and Mitchell’s, and to stand behind its guy, whose show reaches about 11 million people an episode. In the disputed episodes, Rogan has amplified multiple known falsehoods about the dangers of vaccines, touted the benefits of ivermectin (strongly disputed by the FDA), and promoted an “expert” vaccine skeptic with lethally discredited views.

* * * * * *

The hope may be that “truth will out.”

But the problem is: It won’t.

Truth won’t out because the market wants what Rogan is selling, and what Rogan is selling is doubt.

That is also what Carlson is selling and what the GOP is selling, and that is what Donald Trump has been selling for six years. The beauty of “just asking questions” as a rhetorical frame is that it provides cover for some of the foundational work of authoritarianism—it casts broad and enduring doubt on government, on science, on fact, on vote tallies, and on science. The current democracy-on-the-cusp scenario we all live in now is the result of this tendency: People are running for secretary of state positions across the country because they rose to prominence after “just asking questions” about the 2020 election; Donald Trump pushed real plans to seize election machines because he was just probing “both sides” of the Big Lie.

Under cover of having all sorts of interesting and entertaining questions, actual fact has been subordinated. That which is neutral has been politicized, and that which is abhorrent has been normalized, all in the name of just asking tough questions.

I’m not calling Rogan an authoritarian. Carlson surely is, as is Trump. I am saying that when grown adults say they have no responsibility whatsoever to learn or understand or contextualize fringe ideas, they are doing the work of authoritarians, and at minimum, they are absolving themselves of any responsibility to check the tide of it.

What Rogan well knows, and what Spotify has flawlessly commodified, is that pretending that you just aren’t smart enough to understand your own guests, the reach of your show, the consequences of your bookings, your lack of preparation, and your amplification of untruth (and also casual racism and climate denialism and misogyny) lets you get away with all of it. And it forces your listener to either do all of the above for themselves, or to accept your work as truth. And to be perfectly fair, even blaming Rogan, Spotify, Alex Jones, Jordan Peterson, or all the brave askers-of-questions also misses the point.

The problem is that there is a market for what they are selling—the problem is that it is too profitable to stop. This is what we seem to want, to believe ourselves the final arbiters of all that is knowable. It soothes us, this devaluation of knowledge or scientific consensus or expertise. It rewards our sense of self, reassures us that ours is the only science, the only law, the only experience that matters.

Truth isn’t going to “out” because we don’t want to believe in it.

Which is why we’re not only getting exactly the truth-tellers we deserve—we’re actually paying them to lie to us.

Dahlia Lithwick: The market wants what Rogan is selling, and what Rogan is selling is doubt

Slate / 3 Feb 2022

#america 2022 #news #joe rogan #spotify #coronavirus #pandemic life #war on facts #war on truth #war on science #covid truthers #covid disinformation #covid misinformation #yes the vaccines are safe #the vaccines are safe #please get boosted #please get vaccinated #please wear a mask #please stay safe #2022 us elections

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coccinelle-et-chaton · 3 years

Text

*slips you a twenty*

Hey kid wanna read some lit fanfics?

I just updated my blog with a link to all my AO3 works

Also...... Chapter 8 of The Wall Between Us is up and it’d be cool if you read it or whatever, a bunch of us are gonna be there, we’re gonna cry and order pizza and suffer for the love square it’s gonna be cool

Read Chapter 8 on AO3 Start from the beginning here

Or on this post below the cut!

The Wall Between Us

Summary: Marinette is left to pick up the pieces after losing her chance with Adrien and having Master Fu give up his memories to protect the Miraculous Box. She struggles to find her ground as the new Guardian, and finds unexpected support in Luka Couffaine. Simultaneously, Adrien is learning how to navigate his emotions and slowly growing into his role as future co-guardian, and in the process realizes important truths about his feelings for Kagami, Marinette, and Ladybug. When Ladybug tells Chat Noir that as the Guardian, she is okay with not only revealing their identities but also entrusting her secret to close friends of hers, things become unequivocally complicated for the superhero duo. Will Marinette and Adrien be able to sort through their feelings and do what’s best for the Miraculous team?

Chapter 8

By the time Gabriel and Natalie had returned from their business trip to Seoul–and really, Adrien wasn’t even sure they had been gone at all due to the fact Akumas were aplenty during their absence– he had already extracted a good volume of information to make a case for his suspicions.

He hadn’t found the evidence he needed to prove that his father was indeed Hawkmoth, but instead he had found years of badly-filed fiscal reports, personnel that had been hired and fired under very mysterious conditions, some sort of project for the mansion that his father paid millions for which Adrien had never seen, and the one that irked him the most: audits from France’s Child Protection Services, fines, and ‘cease and desist’ letters warning Gabriel that he was putting Adrien under too many work hours.

That, he discovered, was the real reason why Adrien had been allowed to go to school in the first place. It wasn’t that Natalie had made him a favor: They enrolled him so that Child Protection Services would get off the brand’s neck for forcing Adrien on a part-time job when he wasn’t even sixteen yet.

All of Adrien’s findings were pretty incriminatory, not to mention infuriating, but none were exactly what he was looking for. And yet, it was one of those things that once you have considered, you cannot help but keep seeing.

“Adrien, would you like to explain to me why you have been missing your extracurricular activities for the past two weeks?” Natalie said with a stern voice one morning, as Adrien meticulously chewed on his oatmeal breakfast.

The fiery urgency to flip a table, which had taken a hold of him lately any time Natalie or his father addressed him, surged like a geyser.

“I just didn’t feel like attending,” he said politely, without looking up.

Natalie was taken aback by his answer. “Excuse me?”

Adrien looked up this time. “I didn’t feel like attending,” he repeated. “You weren’t here, and I just didn’t feel like going.”

“You know if you start doing poorly, your father will have you homeschooled again and–”

“And what? He’s gonna lock me up again? Is that it? Wouldn’t people start asking questions?” he demanded.

Natalie blinked, completely caught off guard by Adrien’s sudden rudeness. “This is no way to be talking to your–”

“My what? My dad’s assistant? You’re not my babysitter, not my teacher, and certainly not my mother. I can do whatever I want.”

Natalie composed herself and marched swiftly out of the dining room.

“Kid, what the hell?” Plagg hissed from inside his shirt. “That’s a dumb way to get caught.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered back. “I’m just… I’m so angry at them! I can’t stop thinking about all this stuff that I found, and just… the idea of them being–well, you know who. It’s making me see in red.”

He marched to the patio and went into his car, where, to his surprise, he found he’d be sharing a ride with his father.

He felt Plagg jabbing his little paws at him as if to say, “I told you so.”

“F-father. Good morning.”

“Drive, George,” Gabriel instructed. After a silence, he spoke again without looking at Adrien. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Disrespecting Natalie like that, blatantly disregarding your responsibilities, and giving the brand bad publicity.”

He threw a newspaper at Adrien’s lap. It was from a few days ago. Apparently his sudden outburst at the crowd of harassers in the skate park had made it into the news.

“I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to give you this much freedom.”

Adrien gulped, shuddering with sudden terror.

“Perhaps it will be better if you go back to being tutored at home. Or even better, I’ll send you to a boarding school where I don’t have to deal with your carelessness anymore.”

Adrien gasped. “Please… please don’t. Don’t send me away.”

“You’re not feeling so brave and boldened now, are you? Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Adrien didn’t move. He didn’t dare speak, breathe, blink.

The car had stopped already, they were at the steps of the school. His friends were all hanging at the entrance and had spotted him.

“Your lack of words doesn’t surprise me. You’re just a naive, spoiled little boy who can’t begin to understand the sacrifices I make for this family… You’re dismissed.”

Adrien opened the door, not yet getting off the car.

“Are you going to take me off school?”

“No. Take it as a gesture of good will, and a warning. Stay. In. Line.”

“I-if you send me away, people will start wondering what happened,” he said with a small voice. “They’ll ask questions.”

“And what sort of questions would those be, son?”

At Adrien’s silence, Gabriel sighed. “Close the door. Have a good day.”

He got up and stood in front of the car, breathing deeply so as to not give into the urge to cry.

“I can’t wait to be eighteen to get away from you,” he said and smashed the door close as hard as he could, then sprinted into the school building, afraid that Gabriel might order George to stick him back in the car.

Regrettably, all his friends, Marinette included, saw the display unfold.

It was Nino the one who ran after him.

“Hey, dude, everything alright?” Nino said, as he caught up with him in the locker room.

“Hey Nino, good morning!” he chirped with sunny disposition.

The sudden contrast between what he had seen at the school entrance and then, gave Nino whiplash.

“Erm. Yes, good morning. Don’t ignore my question.”

“Nothing happened,” he said shrugging. “Come on, we’ll be late for—”

Nino yanked the strip from his messenger bag and forced him to stop. “Cut the crap, Adrien. I saw. Is everything alright?”

Adrien’s mask of optimism wavered, but he fought hard to keep it in place. “Yes, Nino. Everything’s alright. I promise.”

Nino sighed, not impressed. “Okay, if you say so.”

As they went into the classroom, Adrien saw from the corner of his eye how Nino shook his head discreetly at the girls. He had been right not to tell him. He knew those two would also want to know what happened. He didn’t want to cause hysteria. However, a more pressing thought occupied his mind for the rest of the day.

Given his regrettable display of temper, and though his father said he wouldn’t pull him out of school, Adrien knew not to trust it. One could never anticipate what his father would do just to stay in control. It worried him that he may have crossed a line that would be difficult to come back from. His father might increase his security, might actually pull him out of school. Not ideal, if his hunch was actually right.

He had to tell Ladybug what he knew as fast as possible.

On the lunch break, he excused himself to the bathroom, taking the burner phone with him to send Ladybug a message:

I DECIDED I’M READY TO REVEAL MY IDENTITY. SOMETHING CAME UP. DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT IN DANGER. BUT WOULD IT BE OKAY IF WE MEET AT THE HANG OUT TODAY? PLEASE WRITE ME BACK AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS.

He kept inconspicuously checking the burner phone for the rest of the day, getting no answer from Ladybug whatsoever. It made him restless. What if she was in danger?

No, she couldn’t be. There would have been an Akuma attack or something.

Still, he was worried, and he knew he couldn’t afford to go back home that day without having told Ladybug about his suspicions, so he resolved to drop by the hang-out anyway later that day. Natalie and George would pick him up after fencing, which gave him enough time to swing there and come back.

It only occurred to him that this might not be the greatest idea once he found himself sans transformation, standing at the door of the hide-out.

What if she wasn’t there today? What if she’s shocked by learning who he is?

He shook his head. No. This was an emergency. He had to do it now, so he ringed the bell.

He texted: LB DID YOU GET MY MESSAGE?

Almost immediately, he got a text back: YES :) I AM HERE. WAIT A SEC. WILL OPEN THE DOOR SOON.

His heartbeat so fast he could hear his pulse. He was short of breath and felt as if his knees would buckle under him at any second.

He heard some voices, then someone approaching to open the door.

Adrien felt temped to open it himself just get over the painful anticipation. The seconds extended for an eternity.

And then, all of a sudden, he was greeted with a most confused Alya Cesaire.

“Alya?”

She crumpled her face, perplexed. “Adrien? What are you doing–”

From inside the house, Adrien distinctly heard the voice of none other than Marinette. “Alya? Is that him?”

It took him a fraction of a second to figure out something that had taken him two–almost three now– years to realize. It felt as if time had stopped and then abruptly resumed, pushing him into a turbulent shore of angry waves.

All of a sudden, it was hard to breathe, impossible to buoy to the surface for a gasp of air. His voice caught up in his throat.

He figured it out.

“Alya?” Marinette repeated from inside the house as Alya stood petrified in front of Adrien, realizing exactly who he was.

“Don’t–” he said gasping. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded and then darted away as fast as he could possibly run, only stopping when the tears completely blurred his vision.

Back at the house, Marinette was trembling from the utter anticipation. She had requested that Alya come with her to meet Chat. She wasn’t sure she could take it by herself and she needed someone for moral support.

The seconds of wait stringed into whole minutes of silence and Marinette forced herself to march to the front of the house, where Alya was still clinging to the frame.

She was… were those tears? Was she crying?

“Alya?” she asked with trepidation. “What happened?”

“Chat— Oh, Marinette!” She gasped. “Chat was here. He was–he wasn’t transformed.”

Dread came over Marinette’s expression. “Where is he?” she insisted urgently, “What happened?”

“He– he’s gone. Mari, you need to talk to him. You–we… we know him.”

She blinked, too shocked to let fear take ahold of her. “What? Who is he?”

Alya shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” Marinette demanded.

“Marinette, I can’t tell you. You’ll never forgive me if I do… Just… You have to go talk to him, Mari.”

Marinette sprinted outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘someone she knew’, but it was the beginning of rush hour and the streets flooded with commuters, anonymizing everyone. She called and called and called him. Left him voice mail after voice mail, message after message:

CHAT NOIR PLEASE PICK UP! I’M WORRIED, PLEASE!

CHAT.

CHAT PLEASE.

ALYA SAYS YOU KNOW HER, SO MAYBE YOU ALSO KNOW ME... I’M SORRY IF YOU’RE DISAPPOINTED IT’S ME. CAN WE PLEASE JUST TALK?

MINOU. PLEASE. TALK TO ME.

CHAT NOIR, I KNOW YOU’RE MAD. PLEASE, JUST… PLEASE PICK UP.

Chat Noir did not pick up the phone and Marinette, well, Marinette had not been this brokenhearted since Adrien had started dating Kagami, and that was saying something.

Adrien didn’t sleep that night. He hadn’t cried this much since he lost his mother, hadn’t felt this much either.

He never was one to give into negative emotions, but when they got the best of him, they pulled him deep into an abyss that was hard to crawl out of. If any butterflies came flying his way, he wouldn’t have known. Plagg kept guard the entire night.

“I can’t do this anymore, Plagg,” he confessed. “I can’t–I can’t be Chat Noir anymore. It hurts too much.”

“Kid don’t say things like that,” said Plagg as Adrien sobbed. “I’m sure there’s a way to fix this.”

“She loves someone else,” he cried. “I can’t… She’ll never love me, Plagg. It doesn’t matter if I wear the mask or not.”

“That’s not true,” Plagg said, fetching the burner phone. “Look at how worried that poor thing is for you.”

Adrien kept crying. “She doesn’t love me the way I love her. I won’t stand in her way.”

The next morning, Adrien had to put on very little effort to act indisposed for school. He hadn’t come down with anything, but he felt sick. At one point during the night, he had been so caught up in his crisis that he ended up emptying his stomach. In the morning he had woken up from the few hours of sleep he managed to clock in with an insulting headache and even worse nausea than before.

He called in sick and remitted to his room for the next couple days.

It was funny. He never remembered feeling safe or at home in his room. It was too big, too cold for him and somehow at the same time, too small, too stuffy. It was as if his dad had tried to fit in the entire world inside it in the hopes that he’d never want to see the real thing himself.

It wasn’t comfort what made him feel like he belonged there. It was the fact that for once, his surroundings completely matched his state of mind. This is how he felt: as empty and grey as the mansion had been since his mother disappeared, as much of a prisoner as his father intended for him to be.

He groaned at the sound of his civilian phone chiming non-stop with messages from Nino asking if his father had done something to him, Marinette offering him any help if he needed it–these were the ones that hurt him the most to read–, and finally, Alya, who was not sending messages so much as entire monologues begging him to answer at least Ladybug.

He turned off both his civilian phone and the one for Ladybug, hoping there would be no Akumas while he was in this state.

With Chat gone, Marinette regressed into the sort of grief that shut her down when she became the Guardian. She didn’t stop showing up to school, mainly at Alya’s pressing insistence, but it was evident to the class that something was going on with her again.

A few of her more curious friends and acquaintances ask her if everything’s alright with Luka, which only added to her mortification. She hadn’t been herself these past days and she wasn’t exactly sure she’d be able to explain to Luka why she was so brokenhearted without giving her identity away; why Chat’s sudden rejection was way more painful than anything she ever had to go through. So, against her better judgement, she decided to ignore him for a couple days, at least until she was able to sort her head through the situation.

The truth is Chat’s disappearance–not only this one but every time he’s been convinced he’s not cut out to be her partner–hurled her into a spiral of helplessness not just because she couldn’t fathom doing this without him. There was another reason, one she always purposefully ignored.

It’s like she had told Alya: She had feelings for Chat Noir. It had become easier to ignore them with time, and especially when she could just invest all of her romantic attention on Adrien before Luka came around. But the thing with being in love with Adrien is that she was in love with the idea of him. The idea of being together if she could only one day bring herself to tell him. He was an outlet of sorts–more often than Marinette liked to admit out loud– to feelings she could never show, as they were forbidden.

The second reason why Marinette always fell into despair when Chat Noir surrendered or try to surrender his ring, was because she actually loved him. If she was honest, completely, absolutely honest, she loved him. But she could never tell him, it was Master Fu’s orders not to get involved with him, not to reveal their identities. She maneuvered through those restrictions by effectively fooling herself into believing that one day, in the far future when Hawkmoth was defeated and the stakes wouldn’t be so high, she’d tell him and then everything would be okay. She’d tell him the way you admit to a school crush on one of those high school reunions or unlikely encounters as adults.

Chat surrendering his ring always cut that fantasy short.

What is worse, Marinette realized, was that this time she wasn’t using the idea of someone to distract herself from the way she felt. She was using Luka. Luka, who has been nothing but supportive and absolutely selfless. Luka, who loved her, who didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

Marinette cried in part because this was Chat being typical Chat. But also, because she realized she would eventually need to let go of Luka, and she didn’t want to do that, no matter how wrong it was to keep him to herself. Maybe she just needed to try harder, maybe she just needed to shut down the idea of Chat as she had done before.

The problem was that ignoring him was impossible in this circumstance. Ladybug was about to lose her Cat for good.

“Mari,” Alya said softly as she rubbed her friend’s back as Marinette sprawled over her lap. They were in Marinette’s room. “I think he was just shocked. He’ll come around.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she asked desperately. “I can’t do this without him, Alya. You-you wouldn’t understand. I can’t explain it… I just can’t do it if he’s not there.”

Alya gave her a pained smile.

Oh, this was all so rotten, Alya thought. And Marinette didn’t even know the beginning of it. Alya found herself wondering what would have happened if they had actually revealed their identities before things got complicated off and on the hero costume. It probably would have saved everyone a whole lot deal of pain.

“He will,” she reassured him. “Trust me, he will.”

Alya gave it a few days. But when the end of a week arrived and there was still no sign of Adrien, she decided she probably overestimated him. Nino was mad at him for virtually disappearing, Marinette was growing worried that something had happened to him, not to mention that his disappearance as Chat Noir was truly causing a number on her.

So, she did what she did best: take action.

She asked her teachers for Adrien’s homework worksheets and on she went Friday after school to confront what would be very possibly a mess even bigger than Marinette’s.

She sighed, rang at the gate of the Agrestes’ mansion and waited for the camera to activate.

“Yes?”

“Hello, Miss Sancoeur. I’m Alya, I’m in Adrien’s class. I’m here to give him his work for the week he missed.”

“Deposit it on the bin, please,” Natalie said, as an automated door slid open. to receive the packet of books.

“Actually, I was hoping I could see him? There’s a few things that our Social Studies teacher asked me to explain to him about a specific assignment,” she said, beaming.

“Adrien has come down with a bad case of the flu, I am sure it wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Don’t worry ma’am. I got all my shots up to date.”

Natalie sighed and after a few minutes of deliberation, the gates opened. She met Alya at the front door and directed her to the floor where Adrien’s room was. “Down the hall, first door to the right,” she instructed. “I have to warn you. Adrien has specifically requested not to receive visitors.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll make an exception,” she said with determination in her eyes. “Thanks!” Alya flashed her a smile and once Natalie had returned to her office, proceeded to barge into Adrien’s room.

The blinds were all drawn, only letting in slivers of light. The air was stuffy, like no one had opened the windows in a good while. It also smelled disgustingly of spoiled cheese.

There were clothes and dishes and all kinds of things lying everywhere. Alya did not remember Adrien ever being this messy.

Both the three displays of his computer and the television were on with different shows each, mixing the occasional strands of yellow light from the windows with the morbid blue of the screens.

A lump, which she supposed was the culprit himself, lay buried in a mountain of blankets and pillows. It seemed he hadn’t noticed her–or in the very least, he didn’t care someone had entered the room.

“That’s it!” Alya announced, dropping her school bag unceremoniously as she huffed and puffed making way through the catastrophe of a room he had, to draw the curtains back and open the windows letting in fresh air and the sounds of the city. She then proceeded to turn off every screen and to yank, almost with unnecessary force, the blankets off of Adrien.

“What?” Adrien groaned.

“That’s it!” Alya said. “Get up. Get up this instant or so help me god, I’m going to toss you directly into your bathtub, clothes still on.”

“Alya?” He seemed confused. “What are you doing here?”

She proceeded to make piles of the different kinds of trash to make it easier to bag them later, and discarded plates and cups as she gagged at the smell.

“Seriously, what is that stench?”

“Camembert,” he explained, not finding it in himself to feel ashamed. “For my Kwami. He doesn’t eat anything else.”

Alya eyed him with disbelief and shook her head. “What are you doing there, just looking? Go take a shower!”

“But–”

“Go. Take. A. Shower. Adrien Agreste.”

A little afraid to continue questioning her, Adrien made his way to the bathroom and emerged a good twenty minutes later still in pajamas. Fresh ones at that, but still.

“You live like a pig,” Alya berated him as she took a seat in the couch in front of the television.

“I’m not– why are you here? Did you just come in to criticize me?” Adrien complained, joining her.

“First of all, no. I came in to make sure you were still alive, seeing as you decided to literally disappear off the face of this earth telling absolutely nobody. Nino is livid, by the way. Will love to see how you explain yourself out of that one. Oh, and there’s been Akumas, not that you’d even get the memo in this bunker, so I had to pitch in as Rena. You’re welcome.”

Adrien looked down.

“Second. I knew. I knew you were going to do this; lock yourself up here and wallow in your self-pity. And I knew somebody needed to come here to make you snap out of it,” she said, giving him a gentle slap on his head.

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?” Alya demanded. Being met with silence, she nodded. “My point exactly.”

“Third,” she continued. “You think you have it bad? Try being Marinette for a little bit and have your oh-so-trusted partner of years now, suddenly bail on you with no explanation after realizing who she is. How could that possibly look to her, huh?”

“Marinette?” he said softly. “Is… is she alright? I didn’t mean to–”

“Shush. Don’t interrupt, I'll see that you get your chance to apologize to her, don't you worry your pretty face. Fourth. You sir,” she said poking her index finger at his chest. “Need to put on your big-boy pants and deal with your shit like the superhero you are.”

“And fifth,” she said, the fire in her eyes lightly subduing. “There’s homework,” she said pointing at her bag. “I brought it for you.”

Adrien became small in his seat as he took in Alya’s numbered series of complaints. Meanwhile, Plagg came out of hiding, knowing Alya already knew of his and Ladybug's identity.

“I like the way this one talks,” he said, munching a piece of cheese. “Finally, someone with some goddamn common sense!”

“You’re… Plagg?” Alya said.

“Have we met?” Plagg retorted. “Ah yes, Marinette’s friend on the door the other day. Of course. Either way, you have to know. I would’ve kicked him off the bed myself but well, I’m the size of a tennis ball.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Adrien said quietly, gaining the attention of the pair. “I know… I know I keep messing things up. Which is precisely why I’m not going to be Chat Noir anymore.”

“What?” Alya said, widening her eyes.

Adrien brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on top of them. “I just make everything worse,” he explained. “I keep messing up. And I… I know she used to have a crush on me, as Adrien. I don’t want to get in the way of her and Luka…”

“Adrien,” Alya said softly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but for such a smart guy, you’re pretty darn stupid sometimes.”

Adrien couldn’t help the sudden chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Why on earth do you think that would be a good idea? Have we not met the same Marinette, or, Ladybug in this case? For a reason that’s entirely beyond me, the girl crumbles if you’re not the one to help her up. It’s like… like she wouldn’t believe anything unless it comes from you. You should have seen the certified dumpster fire the last Akuma was. We were all over the place without you.”

Tears fell down his cheeks, and in that moment, Alya knew to knock down her tough-love strategy down a notch. Yes, this was Chat Noir. But it was also Adrien, and while Chat may react to confrontation, Adrien would do anything but.

She clicked her teeth. “Oh, Sunshine. Don’t cry,” she said as she pulled Adrien into a hug.

“I don’t think I can do it, Alya… I’ll make everything worse.”

“You keep saying that, Adrien. But why?”

“I–I think I know who Hawkmoth is,” he admitted in the quietest possible murmur, followed by a sob.

“What…? Adrien, look at me. What do you mean you know who Hawkmoth is?” she said, eyes wide with concentration.

“I figured it out,” he said, hiccupping as he tried to stop crying. “That’s why I went to the hide-out that day. I wasn’t ready to reveal my identity, but I had been stupid with my dad and I thought he might pull me out of school so I knew I had to tell her what I knew before my dad could lock me up or send me away. The first time she took me to the hide-out, I was browsing through some of the documents… Then I found this, this scanned page about the Peacock Miraculous from one of the grimoires and I knew I recognized it from somewhere.” He looked up with an ominous look. “My dad,” he explained. “He has this safe that I once broke into out of curiosity. And he had the missing grimoire in the set and also the brooch. I snuck in his office to investigate and they weren’t in the safe anymore. Then, I found all these documents… he’s been spending money in weird ways, making orders to companies that don’t exist… If he’s Hawkmoth and Natalie is Mayura… that’s–that’s why I had to tell Ladybug. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she found out who I was and thought that I was part of it all. Alya I’m so scared… I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she said softly. “And why didn’t you stick around to tell her that?”

“Because I’ve been in love with her since I met her, okay? I panicked,” he said, now a bit more exasperated. “You– I don’t think you and Nino know what it’s like, it all came so easy to you. But for me… It was so hard to get over her as Ladybug, then realizing that I was really in love with Marinette, and now–”

“Wait, you’re in love with Marinette?” Alya interrupted, jaw on the floor.

“Did Nino not tell you?”

“No! We don’t gossip about what you guys tell us!… I mean, unless it's really important, but that's besides the point! Holy shit, this is so complicated,” she said with a long sigh, plopping her back against the couch. She groaned as she processed the information. “Why are you two like this?” she exclaimed, rubbing her face in frustration. “Okay, but about your whole theory,” she said, once she recovered. “I think that doesn’t prove much, Adrien. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

Adrien shook his head. “I know what I saw, Alya. He had the Peacock Miraculous.”

“But that could mean anything. It could be a replica; I’ve read a lot of studies tracking the history of each jewel. People have tried replicating them to scam others.”

“It’s Natalie, Alya,” Adrien said with less patience. “Natalie is Mayura,” he said. “I just know it…” He sighed. “I don’t know how to tell Marinette. I don’t want to make things complicated for her.”

Alya thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I got it. What you have right now is a lead, at best. We need to come up with a plan to prove your theories. And Marinette doesn’t need to know how you found it. I didn’t tell her that it was you at the door that day, so really, you could just tell her there’s reason to believe that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth. You tell her your sources is someone close to the Agrestes.”

“What if she asks who the specific source is?”

“We’ll get to that bridge when we cross it.”

“Half-baked plans don’t work on Ladybug,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Perhaps. But she won’t press if she knows your identity is at stake. And for what it’s worth, Adrien, I really do think you should just come clean. About your identity, I mean. It would make everything easier for both of you. I know it must be super scary but... At least promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

-- “Well, you look like shit,” Juleka commented a bit amused as Luka joined for breakfast before school. He hadn’t been sleeping well and it showed. He simply gave Juleka a ‘I’m not in the mood to fuck around’ smile and begrudgingly served himself a bowl of cereal.

“What is it?” Juleka insisted.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Jules.”

“It’s Marinette, isn’t it?” she asked, sounding more like she already had an answer.

Luka sighed and said nothing.

“She’s still not answering your messages?”

Luka shook his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing, probably.”

Luka looked up at his sister, who shrugged at him. “Alya says there’s something going on with her family or something, and she’s really having a hard time with it. It’s probably only that.”

Luka appreciated the fact Juleka tried to cheer him up, but he already knew Marinette wasn’t answering because of family trouble. It had been no secret that Chat Noir had been absent in the last few Akumas. Coincidentally, Juleka had mentioned Adrien had been missing school the last few days, so he knew something must have happened between them. Maybe a fight, it was anyone’s guess. The only thing he knew is that he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand that he couldn’t do anything about it, that Marinette wouldn’t actually tell him why she was hiding–to be honest, he also was unsure he even wanted to know. The prospect of her crying to him for a guy who has broken her heart not once, but twice now, did not appeal to him in the slightest bit.

Adrien Agreste was so stupid! He was an idiot! And yet, Luka couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette would ever cry for him like that, even if the last thing he’d ever want to do was to hurt Marinette the same way Adrien had. If she’d ever trust him as blindly as she trusted Chat Noir or love him just the same.

He sighed, trying to push the thought away. Lately, he had run out of strategies to keep his jealousy at bay and so, defeated, he simply tried to ignore his feelings as best as he could, not knowing what else to do. Giving into the feeling made him think horrible things about Adrien, which he was sure weren’t true. Confronting them brought up a proposition that made him break a cold sweat, which although extremely painful, had begun to make a case for itself. It was something he didn’t want to do, but that he suspected would be the best for both of them in the end:

Break up with Marinette.

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10, pt 11

- Chapter 12 -

The Nightless City was grand and glorious, as luxurious as Koi Tower and as tasteful as the Cloud Recesses, and Meng Yao would burn it all down in a heartbeat for the chance to return to the familiar sparse stone and metal of the Unclean Realm.

Wen Ruohan had forgiven him for murdering Wu Bixian and blowing his cover once Meng Yao had explained the circumstances, although he’d been displeased; Meng Yao had had to work his way back into his inner circle the hard way, inventing monstrous machines for him to use in his Fire Palace, where he played at treating torture the way other people viewed sport.

Meng Yao had once dreamed of torturing his enemies – initially defined as anyone who insulted his mother, but later expanded to include anyone who made a serious effort to harm Nie Mingjue and recently he had been considering an additional expansion to loop in the same for Lan Xichen – but now he realized that torture was boring and burdensome and messy, and a quick execution was clearly much more effective.

There was a lot less upkeep, for one.

A lot fewer tormented doctors as well – that poor Wen Qing would probably have never picked up her needles if she’d known this was where she was going to end up using them, that was for sure – and anyway, neither of his lovers would have approved so it was all a moot point anyway.

Possibly former lovers.

Not that they’d ever actually made it to the stage of being lovers, what with Lan Xichen’s sect rules and parental trauma, Meng Yao’s nightmares of the brothel, and Nie Mingjue’s experiences with Wen Ruohan…

Probably for the best, actually, given what Meng Yao now knew about Nie Mingjue – something that he was almost certain that Nie Mingjue did not know about himself.

A few months at Wen Ruohan’s side had certainly been enlightening on that front. As Meng Yao might’ve suspected, he treated even the people in his clan about the same as wooden furniture, useful to varying degrees but all ultimately disposable, and someone like Meng Yao, a talented retainer he’d stolen from another sect and who had no way out, made for amusing company.

Wen Ruohan had in fact heard the rumor of someone in the Nie sect being born as a yang furnace, very likely from Wu Bixian himself in an attempt to get rid of what he perceived to be a stain on the sect’s reputation, and he’d investigated, ultimately figuring out that the person in question was Nie Mingjue. A yang furnace, Meng Yao learned, was considerably rarer than a yin furnace, requiring the right horoscope and lucky (or unlucky) parentage, and was considered far more precious – people with that constitution would have an incredible talent for cultivation themselves, but would also be able to magnify, many times over, the cultivation or even cultivation potential of those with whom they engaged in dual cultivation.

The furnace’s consent in the matter was not required.

After discovering the truth, Wen Ruohan had apparently gone back and forth for some time in deciding whether to snatch him up immediately, training him up as a concubine reserved for the use of the Wen clan, but one of his more esoteric specialists had told him that the sort of intense cultivation techniques he had in mind would likely kill a child and, more importantly, that the positive effect on his own cultivation would be magnified if Nie Mingjue’s cultivation were higher when he began.

“Sect Leader Wen’s patience is admirable,” Meng Yao said with the sort of smile he’d worn when talking to the brothel owner that used to beat his mother on a regular basis just so she’d ‘remember her place’. “If only I had known..! I am not so certain I could resist such a temptation for years on end.”

Wen Ruohan laughed. “Well, I must admit I gave it a half-hearted effort a few times. The doctors did say that a few times early on wouldn’t hurt.”

By hurt he meant damage to Nie Mingjue’s ability to cultivate, or to cultivate with others, not to the lifetime of nightmares and terror that Nie Mingjue suffered as a result of his unrelenting pursuit.

“Though on that subject,” Wen Ruohan continued, a faint smile on his face, “perhaps you’d like to take a look at the room I’ve prepared for him, and let me know if you have any suggestions – anything you think he’d enjoy for the times when he’s not – in service.”

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Naturally, if you also have any proposals regarding any of your marvelous machines…”

“Naturally, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan praised. “If you please me well enough, perhaps I’ll let you take a turn once I’m done with him.”

He had other requests, too, which were even less savory – mostly storytelling, Meng Yao casting his mind back to his days at the brothel and even in desperation some of the artwork Nie Huaisang insisted on collecting to describe all sorts of scenarios for Wen Ruohan’s evident enjoyment.

Meng Yao took a bath as often as he could plausibly manage it, and still felt unclean.

(Chiwen, hidden away as best as he could in the room he’d been assigned because a Nie saber did not voluntarily enter Wen hands, screamed in his head. He hated everything about what they were doing.)

It was amazing, Meng Yao thought, how far self-deception could go: he had thought, once, that he would be able to distract and dissuade Wen Ruohan without losing anything along the way, that he could sell himself without counting the cost, and at the last he realized that his mother had been right about warning him not to get used to making deals with bad men.

Wu Bixian, too. He had thought that Wen Ruohan’s goal was domination of the cultivation world, his pursuit of Nie Mingjue only a means to get there or at best a distraction, when in fact Wen Ruohan wanted to be a god, to break through the barrier of cultivation and rise up to the heavens, and he believed that Nie Mingjue could get him there.

And yet Wen Ruohan, too, was deceived – he thought that everything in the world was meaningless grist to that great ambition’s mill, thought that everything he did was for power and power only. And yet there was the great care and attention with which he had filled the prison room in the Nightless City with all the things Nie Mingjue liked, things that he’d figured out from casual mentions in discussion conferences, the fascination in his eyes when Meng Yao told him stories that were sometimes so very boring and mundane, the casual way he dismissed even his own heir’s death at Nie Mingjue’s hands…

Perhaps the interest had been merely practical once, but it certainly was no longer.

At least the war was going well.

Not much else was.

His letters with Wen Ruohan had been belatedly discovered and publicized, his betrayal becoming widely known – Wen Ruohan deliberately cutting off Meng Yao’s route of return, no doubt. The fact that it was a good move, and one Meng Yao would have done if he were in his place, did not make it any easier to swallow.

He had always assumed he would be there to explain the letters to Nie Mingjue.

He’d said so many cruel things in those letters over the years, hurtful things, things he didn’t believe but thought that Wen Ruohan would like to hear – things about Lao Nie, about Nie Mingjue, about Baxia, about Nie Huaisang…disdainful, wretched things, lies that had flowed so easily out of his brush when he’d thought it was all a game.

He didn’t want to think about Nie Mingjue hearing them – seeing them – reading them –

He didn’t want Nie Mingjue to think that was how he really felt.

Some days, in the middle of the night in the too-brightly-lit core of the Nightless City, Meng Yao put his head in his hands and felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. He should have known better, he thought. He shouldn’t have tried to take it all on his own shoulders; he shouldn’t have assumed he’d be able to explain, that he could swear on Chiwen that his motives were pure and that all would be easily forgiven; he should have told Nie Mingjue what he was doing early on so that it would not come to him as a surprise –

He should not have repeated his mother’s mistake from all those years ago.

(“They don’t trust us!” Lao Nie had shouted, his voice still audible behind those stone walls, and Nie Mingjue had gone silent, the words hitting their mark and leaving a wound, before he’d started arguing once again.)

Meng Yao had originally planned on having both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen act as his contacts during the war, but instead for his sins he got stone-faced Lan Wangji and, eventually, red-eyed Wei Wuxian, who was clearly still deeply shaken by the near-destruction of the Lotus Pier and how close he had come to losing everyone he loved.

(Meng Yao killed time in between boring torture, nauseating dinners with Wen Ruohan, and interacting with his two contacts in trying to figure out how to get said contacts to confess their obvious attraction to each other without ever actually telling them to their face that they were being idiots.

How anyone had ever compared him to Wei Wuxian – citing their status as fatherless children being raised by sect leaders alongside their heirs – he honestly did not know; the boy had a genius for cultivating and the arrogance to go with it, but simply no common sense whatsoever. Meng Yao was his exact opposite.)

They had both briefly been guests of the Wen sect, brought in by the same invitation that had been forcefully extended to Nie Huaisang; once they were there, they were given to Wen Chao to lead and reshape. Obviously that went about as badly as anyone could imagine, Wen Chao being what he was.

Nie Huaisang had been there too, of course, and Meng Yao hadn’t dared go anywhere near him. It wasn’t that he doubted his own acting abilities, or Nie Huaisang’s for that matter, but rather his own perception. Nie Huaisang was a very good liar, and if Meng Yao got it into his head that his own blood brother didn’t believe him, he might very well fall apart.

So he didn’t go.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Apparently, not showing up was seen as some sort – admission of guilt, perhaps, because the second Nie Huaisang returned to the Unclean Realm, things started going very badly indeed. Many of his old contacts stopped talking to him or even disappeared, even the ones he would have sworn Nie Huaisang had no knowledge of, and he didn’t even want to think about how many of his plans ran into obstacles that had nothing to do with luck and had everything to do with Nie Huaisang’s Nie temper.

Meng Yao only hoped that the cause of the temper tantrum was his failure to apologize for not letting Nie Huaisang properly into his schemes, and not that Nie Huaisang thought –

Surely Nie Huaisang would have said something to Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji if he didn’t believe Meng Yao to be trustworthy? They were peers, had been schoolmates, and a few months together was more than enough time for Nie Huaisang to get the measure of them – he had to know what they were doing on his behalf, surely, and he hadn’t stopped them, so…

Sometimes Meng Yao thought that his circular rationalizations would drive him mad, long before anything else about this horrible life of his did.

(He also thought, sometimes, about how his mother would feel – how she did feel – about what he was doing, and whether she approved or not. He usually tried to stop thinking about it as soon as possible.)

At any rate, the sect heirs had all escaped after some unfortunate encounter with a corrupted Xuanwu that made Meng Yao twitch in fear when he belatedly learned about it, and soon after that the war began in earnest.

The Nie sect took Heijian, as had always been the plan; the Wen sect’s cultivators threw themselves against their iron wall without any success and even some heavy losses, especially whenever Nie Mingjue himself there to lead battles. The Lan sect was scattered after the burning of the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji’s early warning had preserved more of their lives than might have otherwise been accounted for – the attack on the Lotus Pier had been similarly blunted through timely advice, although Jiang Fengmian’s stubborn refusal to take immediate action had resulted in injuries, some rather serious.

Two major attacks, in under a year – the rest of the cultivation world was alarmed. A sizeable number chosen to give in at once, while others opted to join the opposing forces, and war was everywhere.

Meng Yao had hoped that his information would be enough to tip the balance, that he could play the same role he’d played against Wen Ruohan in the past – acting as an interruption, but never quite tipping his hand. Never pushing for the real reward, taking the big risk…

The war dragged on.

There were some close calls – some difficult battles. People were dying on both sides. Several times there were reports of terrible injury to key people; the death of someone he loved was only a matter of time.

It seemed that he didn’t have a choice but to take more dramatic action.

Evil, Chiwen screamed in his mind, just as he had every day since Meng Yao had arrived at this horrible place. Kill it!

Meng Yao wished it was so easy.

“Do you mind if I borrow your brother?” he asked Wen Qing, who glared at him but accepted the jar of wine he offered her. “Just for a while.”

“None of your machines,” she said at once. He couldn’t blame her.

“No machines,” he agreed. “I need a courier.”

She paused, then put the wine down. “Out of the Nightless City? Safely?”

He smiled.

Wen Ning was delighted to see Wei Wuxian, and the feeling was decidedly mutual – Meng Yao had picked Wen Ning in part because of the extraordinary initiative he had taken at the Lotus Pier, initiative that made the entire Jiang clan quite fond of him – and Wei Wuxian happily agreed to smuggle Wen Ning out of Qishan to deliver a private message.

“Make sure he gets to Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao instructed. “A message can be compromised or lost – a person, not so easily.”

“I’ll do my best,” Wei Wuxian said, and almost looked approving, like he thought that Meng Yao was doing this to save Wen Ning from the worst of the war.

He had no idea what Meng Yao was doing.

“Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao said when they were about to leave. “What does Lan Xichen say about me?”

A blink, there and gone. “He fears for your safety, and hopes you are well.”

“And – Nie Mingjue?”

He didn’t bother asking about Nie Huaisang. If his brother didn’t want someone to know how he felt, no one would ever have the slightest clue.

Wei Wuxian hesitated, and Meng Yao waited, and in the end Wei Wuxian finally said, “I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything about you at all.”

Meng Yao nodded. It was no less than he’d expected, for all that it felt as if his heart were shattering. “Thank you. Please go.”

Wei Wuxian would take Wen Ning to Lan Xichen, and Lan Xichen would believe the words of a person more than he believed a letter – it was his nature to do so, especially when that person was as serious and earnest as Wen Ning, who seemed so trustworthy and who would never knowingly tell a lie.

But a person who would never knowingly tell a lie could still be made to carry one, and so Lan Xichen would listen to Wen Ning, and he would take what Wen Ning told him to Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue – who might have questioned information brought by Wen Ning but who would never question Lan Xichen, the way he had previously never questioned Meng Yao – Nie Mingjue would listen, and believe, and act on that belief.

He would go to Yangquang –

And Wen Ruohan would be waiting for him.

Sometimes Meng Yao hated himself.

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #wen ruohan #wei wuxian #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #three gates

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