#king of his circle i mean he absolutely would go for world domination but he’s sufficiently pacified with ruining the lives of everyone he | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

philosophicalparadox · 2 years

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📗📗 I am greedy, I desire two please. (for a fanfiction you haven't written but daydream about) thank you

Oh boy. Maybe I was the wrong person to ask for two from, cause this got Long!

I am mildly obsessed with Berserk right now, so mostly my brain has been viciously whipping up WIPs for that, but interestingly two of them are crossover fics. (Well actually 3)

However I also have at least one Blue Exorcist fic I have not written, but keep mulling over. This one's brief as its still in its concept stage: An anthology series I keep imagining but not writing in which I explore mainly Samael's past; I have from his conception, sometime way back in early Mesopotamia, up until things turned sour with Lucifer circa the fall of the Western Roman Empire sketched out. My favorite part so far is writing his relationship with Azazel, who I think of as very knowledgeable but punky, spunky, and a lil bit mean (ahem, courtesy Shiro, Myth of Aries, Myth of Odin, Myth of Zephyrus, and a few other wind and storm gods, plus actual mythological Azazel being a weirdly nice but also kinda douchey and temperamental demon)

The one that is most planned out however is a Blue Exorcist X Berserk crossover in which The Berserk Crew gets caught in a dimension-splitting slash by Skeketon Knight and wind up just over 700 years in the future, in a radically different timeline (The world of BE) Mephisto is no stranger to accidental time-space travellers, and usually keeps an eye on them, but stays away. Most of them die anyway, from the shock to their systems, or go completely mad, especially ones travelled so far. But, they wash up in Tokyo Bay, and he just happened to be nearby, so why not? After all, time travellers who survive the jump Always instigate change, at times radically, sometimes good, sometimes bad; in which case he's in prime position (the only position really) to either "help" or "abate" those changes (translation: they live or they die). He's the only one that can speak to them, anyhow - not a human left speaks Middle High German on a regular basis but him. Plus, Griffith has a very interesting little "toy" called a Behelit, which is of his own kin - how could the devil resist?

Highlights thus far include (long read):

Mephisto forcing the group to live in his Library, because it's the safest place he can think of where they will also be able to remotely educate themselves (Well. Griffith and Casca to a point.)

Rin meeting Guts after sneaking in and thinking he is THE coolest dude ever, and Guts being painfully awkward and shy about it cause he's no one's hero and isn't sure he wants to be; he wishes he could explain that that giant sword has cut horses in half without scaring the kid but he does not know how. Griffith is no help, he's just glad not to be fawned over for once, even if Mephisto has a creepy degree of interest in him.

Yukio finding out about these time travelling medieval knights and absolutely freaking out because Rin is oblivious to how fucking dangerous these people are or what the word "mercenary" means. He works with Mephisto to try and keep things hush hush. Rin is convinced otherwise.

This leads to a sorta well fleshed out situation in which the BE crew get to glimpse these knights in action...while fighting Amaimon, of all people. (Guts has faced apostles near that level of "oh fuck no" so I have faith he would be undeterred). The demon King nearly kills Griffith, who, in desperation and having done plenty of "reading" on summoning circles, (and conveniently has been slipped a paper) summons a Kirin by pleading for some kind of horse; he and Guts both are Cavalry, and without the heft and speed advantage, nothing is gonna get through Amaimon's scaly, armored tail. Kirin are stubborn, though, and very hard to tame - but once they bond with a person, they stay with them for life. Griffith pleads, and his love for Guts and sheer dominating willpower works, and the Kirin Yields, much to the utter shock of even Mephisto, who quite expected a different creature to appear (Behelit being kin of Time and Griffith possessing qualities that make him A Primo target for Kin of Light). Guts and Griffith, using the super speed of the Kirin and the weight of Guts' oversized claymore, gravely wound a fleeing Amaimon, much to the surprise of everyone watching, especially Rin, who is just starting to piece together that these are Dangerous People; but Rin also thinks that that is the most awesome display of (human) power ever. Even more awesome though is the healing scene, which I won't spoil much; it's very tender and sweet and defies what even Mephisto assumes is possible, so there's that.

Following this is a plot point I've drawn up, but have not worked out much, in which this encounter attracts attention and Mephisto is forced to reveal them to the Vatican. Griffith, Guts, and Casca are the only ones to attend - and it is here that they find out they can never go back home. They're too far away; to get back to where they were would take generations of time jumping, which is not something the King of Time is inclined to do. But, he can take them back to the same time, more or less. Just not the same place. But for a price, of course; what this price is, Idk yet.

What I do know is that Guts is very susceptible to possession, even as he is in the Golden Age. (Severe trauma will do that to a guy) And this is very well known to Mephisto, who has been riling him up all the while they've been in audience with the vatican - until something gives, and for a moment, in plain view of all, Guts is possessed by a kin of Spirit. (Upon closer inspection, Beast of Darkness is more Kin of Azazel than Kin of Armumahael) The Grigori were initially impressed, after all, that medeival humans with no formal training in exorcism had managed to so wound a demon King, and were quite willing to take them on as esquires/exwires. But Guts's instability is a liability, and would need to be ironed out first. The ramifications of this on Guts relationships with Griffith and Casca are...tragic. He could go demon at any time; and he has no way to stop it. Angst punctuated by tender, heart-throbbing fluff ensues.

In light of this, I think I'd like for Guts to have a budding friendship with Rin. They have quite a bit in common, and the fear of going berserk at any time is but one more thing to share in common.

Eventually, they will temporarily be assigned as "commissioned exorcists" which are essentially mercs. Rin will slowly come to realize that maybe Guts is not his friend in the way he envisioned - certainly the man has no love for demons, and is utterly ruthless in killing them. He kills the way only a man who has spent his whole life killing can - and it both scares, nay, terrifies, and excites Rin, because on one hand, for the first time he sees a human being that might be able to kill him before he can even react, with such deftness and efficiency he probably wouldn't even know he was dead. This is very scary for him. On the other hand though, that might not be a bad thing - he would rather be executed by someone he admires if it came to that. Plus he definitely wants to study these guys; Guts is terrifying, and frankly so is Griffith, who is just as deft and ruthless, but who also runs this show, and can bark out commands that are followed to the letter with absolutely zero recourse and definitely knows wtf he is doing. Judeau is a fucking phantom, coming out of nowhere, skirmishing, then vanishing again. Casca follows the same pattern, avoiding direct prolonged contact, but she can certainly hold her own with an arming sword. Pippin is a great vanguard, and a living mountain. Put a warpick in his hand and he is indomitable. Rin - along with the other exorcists assigned to the location, are utterly engrossed in the way these people fight, doing precisely what every exorcist should never do, fighting up close and personal, and being damned good at it. But more impressive to them still is how cohesive they are - something even Berserk mentions makes the Band of the Hawk so unique and effective. It inspires change in the way things are thought of, and Mephisto quietly muses over the fact he's been hurled into a different timeline, again, but isn't sure how this one is going to pan out. Time travellers always, always change things, either radically or minutely, for good or for ill, and he both hates and loves it when they happen.

Hope that satisfies!

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #berserk #guts #rin okumura #fanfic #crossover

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kemetic-dreams · 5 years

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African not Black

Blackness Started in Slavery

We have to start this discussion in its most basic terms. Where do Black people originate from? Then if the answer is Africa, then what is the purpose of identifying with a color over our beautiful Motherland? We could end all discussions with just that simple sentence.

Black is a construction, which articulates a recent social-political reality of people of color (pigmented people). Black is not a racial family, an ethnic group or a super-ethnic group. Political blackness is thus not an identity but moreover a social-political consequence of a world which after colonialism and slavery existed in those color terms.

“white” depends for its stability on its negation, “black.” Neither exists without the other, and both come into being at the moment of imperial conquest– Fanon

The Invention of the White Race is a groundbreaking analysis of the birth of racism in America. When the first Africans arrived in Virginia in 1619, there were no “white” people, nor, according to colonial records, would there be for another sixty years. In his seminal two-volume work, Theodore W. Allen details the creation of the “white race” by the ruling class as a method of social control in response to labor unrest precipitated by Bacon’s Rebellion. By distinguishing European Americans from African Americans within the laboring class, white privileges enforced the myth of the white race through the years and has been central to maintaining ruling-class domination over the entire working class.

In our modern era old identities split apart and reform along more self-determined line to recover what was lost after the impact of conquest and domination. We see The Gypsies are now to be called “Roma,” and the reindeer-herding Lapps of Northern Scandinavia are the “Saami.” Similarly, some now claim the Iroquois Indians should be called the “Haudenosaunee” and the Cherokee the “Tsalagi”

Africans have gone from Negro (Spanish for Black) to Black (English for Negro) what has changed? Only the language. An identity is generally geographical and ties the people to their native environment or their core doctrine (Jews of Judaism, Muslims of Islam, Chinese of China).

Very few Africans are actually Black in color, so where is the foundation of a Black people or black people coming from? It is how Africans were seen relative to the European people. So relative to the pales skin of Europeans and White Arabs the most dominant thing about African was relative skin color. Hence the exonym Black in the eyes of the “other.” It was not the land, not the African hair, but the relative color of a diverse skin pigment – that is rarely black in color. For Indians it is their land, for Chinese it is their land, for Jews it is their faith and a notion of Israel. Yet Condolezza Rice feels the best thing that describes her in American is blackness. And to some extent she is right, because there is nothing in her cultural, ethical, aesthetic, outlook that resembles the continent her ancestors came from. She has replaced Africa with America, and finally Africaness with dreams of the White ideal.

African and black are not interchangeable just as Dark continent and Africa are not. Self-determination allows a people to re-examine definitions and sculpt them to their reality. Black, like Negro is facing linguistic extinction, especially in academic circles, due to its poor foundation in speaking about the oldest and most diverse people on the planet. Notice today only two races go by color labels; The race with the most oppression and the ones inflicting that oppression. “I am black and proud” is a song, nothing else. It is the rhetoric necessary at the time to lift an oppressed people who only knew of themselves through the eyes of their oppressor. It has run its course and has expired.

Some have argued that African people chose “black” as an acceptable identity. The evidence is in all the books African-Americans write where the word “black” (lowercase) is used without care. But self-determination has a condition – full knowledge of self. And this is why we see the new Nig*er identity which by the same mass consensus process seems to be a valid new identity. And just like “black” it is again almost exclusively the world view of a minority African population living in America.

In Mauritania, the Haratin account for as much as 40% of the Mauritanian population. They are sometimes referred to as “Black Moors“, in contrast to Beidane. The Haratin are Arabic-speakers, and generally claim a Berber or Arab origin, which is contrasted against other African peoples in southern Mauritania (such as the Wolof and Fula people who have populations in Mauritania). The Haratine, consider themselves part of the Moorish community. But where it becomes problematic is because they are “darker” in color, they are assumed to be slaves brought from “black Africa.” So powerful is the theory of “two” Africa’s that reality is twisted to accommodate its validity. Every study is looking at Africa through the lens of “Black and White”, “slave and master.” It is therefore never considered that these “black” populations, like the Kanuri, who migrated South from North Africa, are native to the region. In a struggle to sustain colonial linguistics all forms of pseudo -anthropology is imposed on the African reality posing itself as mainstream studies.

Ethiopia never had a history of “Black” identity

Brief History : During the displacement of the African Holocaust people were disconnected from culture, language and identity, they went from Fulani, Hausa, Igbo to a relative color, aptly describing their status in European society– Black. Now stuck with this name, and with no agency, no conscious of self outside of the chains of the Holocaust, being black became a source of reactionary pride. (especially in the 60’s). This happened also because the involuntary Diaspora had a deep self-hatred for their African connection, and would prefer to be a empty color than connected to their Motherland–that was the dept of the self hatred. And this produced reactionary love because they had to be something, and they could not be European, so in the psyche reaffirming a negative name was in some sense a statement of ownership–a statement of being. In reality it was a statement of displacement and self-hatred.

The word “Black” has no historical or cultural association, it was a name born when Africans were broken down in to transferable labor units and transported as chattel to the Americas. The re-labeling of the Mandika, Fulani, Igbo, Asante, into one bland color label- black, was part of the greater process of absolute removal of African identity; a color epithet that Europe believed to be the lowest color on Earth, thus reflecting the social designation of African people in European psyche. When Africans, out of their own agency refer to themselves they do so with internal paradigms and self-affirmation. No where in Africa did Africans see the obvious, the natural skin color they had, as the most distinctive characteristic in defining them:

Zulu – People of the sky Khoi Khoi – King of men Numunuu (Native Americans) – The people Mediterranean — ” Our Sea” Senegal – “Our land” Navajo -“Diné” meaning “The People” Han-in (Korean: 한인; Hanja: 韓人; literally “great people”) Bantu – “human” {note}

In this history of Swahili the people called themselves “people” no color attached. Attaching color is only done to refer to “the other.” In Zulu Kingdom again we see no record of a self-reference to a “Black people” they called themselves “People of the Sky” until White people showed up and called them blacks. It is true the term Ethiopia in ancient times meant “burnt face” but the modern name Ethiopia is a name not a Greek word. And the critical thing is name verses descriptive terms. The same is true for Sudan.

ODD ETHNIC GROUP Sesame Street use to play a game called Which one is the odd one out. Can you spot which of all of these so-called Ethnic names is the odd one out:

East Asian (a place) Southeast Asian (a place) South Asian (a place) Black (a color) Hispanic/Latino (a language group tied to a place) Caucasian (a place) Middle Eastern (a place) Native American/First Nations (a place) Pacific Islander (a place) Arab (a place)

Linguistic evolution? COLORED – NEGRO – BLACK – AFRICAN-AMERICAN – NIG*ER

BLACK HISTORY

Black history is the history of enslavement; African history is the history of humanity. If there are no White people, could there be Black people? For over 100,000 years there were only native people of Africa on the planet, and since there were no “White” people there could not have been Black people, since everyone would have been “Black.” This is even more profound when you realize African people are the only truly native people of the place they inhabit—everyone else is at some point a settler.

Every ethnic group in this country has a reference to some land base, some historical cultural base. African-Americans have hit that level of cultural maturity… To be called African-American has cultural integrity– Jesse Jackson

And if all the “White people” vanished from the Earth, would the remaining “Black” people still be Black? So the older group must define itself relative to the European newcomers? Would it not make far more logical, historically, linguistically, and social to describe people by their land of origin. Negro = Negroid = Colored = Nigger = Black (all associated with color none are connected to a continent). Now compare this to Asiatic, Caucasoid, and Mongoloid (all are tied to land, all can be located on a map— but not so Negroid/Black). Black and White are therefore debunked as regressive incomplete terms for describing people.

For all of recorded history we see in every conflict a central theme — that of “land.” So critical as humans need land to grow crops on, to source water from (see Golan Heights), they need a place to build cities and a place to harvest mineral wealth from. So attaching your identity to land makes sense: Attaching your identity to an abstract color, does not. Black and African are not interchangeable in any logical sense. African people claim an African origin and Africa as their Motherland. There is nothing in “blackness” that logically implies any claim to anything of value, except into bondage. All it tells the world is relative to the dominant race class these group of people are “black.” And in Africa it is even worse, because language wise no majority defines themselves against a minority. i.e. Sudan (Northern Sudan) is still Sudan, but Southern Sudan has to insert “South” for clarity. Holocaust, on its own, is assigned to the Jews, who do not insert “Jews” before Holocaust, since they are the first to use the term in its modern context. How can the majority in South Africa need to identify themselves as “black” relative to a “white” when they are a overwhelming majority and hence “the norm”?

And what is even more revealing is that Dutch settlers in South Africa branded themselves as Afrikaners laying claim to the land they conquered. Signifying in that naming process they were the native European tribe of of Africa (per Zuma). And yet Natives in South Africa still refer to themselves, with glee, as blacks.

It is amazing in our modern era that an entire nation of people, who are free to think and free to reflect– the oldest nation on the planet, the parents to every other people are confined by a name that reflects only their supposed skin color — and nothing else. Being “black people” is still today indelible fixed in Western lexicon (both African American and White), despite all the evidence contradictory such color-based terminologies and the profound work of Malcolm X and especially Richard B. Moore to favor African over Black, which would give a humanist representation of marginalized people. And the perplexing thing is general contentment and seeming inability to see the obvious menace in the term. Only two groups remain on Earth adhering to color labels; the most exploited people in the history of humanity (Black people), and their apex oppressors (White people).

True freedom is not only the right to vote, but the right to self-define and the right to interrogate definitions imposed and formulate new ones, which favor the African in any given political climate

If linguistically we reject the term.Sub-Saharan Africa then therefore there is no Sub-Saharan history or people; as distinct from North Africa. We then only have Africanpeople and a history of Africa

We must realize these are still colonial classifications like Middle East which have nothing to do with historical Africa. We cannot discuss a history of Africa in these colonial boxes which only served to humiliate and take away from the continent. The terms create paradigms which limit, rather than expand, reality. If there are a black or Black people then where do “black” people come form? Since Asians come from Asia, Indians from India (all makes perfect logically sense).

So where do Black people come from? Blackia, Negroland or Blackistan, following the obvious naming convention. What is the capital city of the Black home world? Black City or Blackatropolis? So if Africans do not come from these fictitious places and we find that so-called Black people come from Africa (at some time in our recent history) then why not just call them Africans? At best the term is redundant. So what is the purpose of Blackness? Especially in a world where identity and land are exclusively interlinked for every other people: Jews of Israeli, Palestinians of Palestine, Indians of India, Zulu of Zululand, Masai of the Masai Mara

Twenty-two million African-Americans – that’s what we are – Africans who are in America– Malcolm X

Blackness, is largely a Western or American exonym, in which all so-called Black cultures around the world are forced to fit into. As Americanism expanded so to did this notion of blackness, which is attached to the civil rights struggle and today to the urban cultures of the inner cities. However, It cannot be transplanted into ancient history to describe a people such as Ancient Ethiopia who had no cultural similarities to the modern African-Americans communities. Neither can “Blackness” be put in history to say the Ancient Egyptians were not Black because they did not share characteristics with a group of Africans Europeans chose to label as the archetypal Black population (black skin, thick lips and kinky hair). To do so creates connections and disconnections where there are none. So “Black culture” or “Blackness” cannot be imposed anywhere beyond the modern era. But we can say Cultures of Africa, in which Egypt and Ethiopia were part of that African world. Being African doesn’t mean we all dance to the same music and worship the same tree. So outside of the suggestiveness of “black” and “negro” words are necessary in creating new paradigms or we will always get stuck hearing “Well the Egyptians were not Black” because of a language issue or some other technicality. Far less objections could be raised if we just stuck to “The Egyptians were Africans“. Especially if we claim African as oppose to let it float.

The political question of contributions of modern day African people must be addressed and in this respect Ancient Egypt, Ancient Ethiopia were African civilizations, the same way Greece was an Ancient European civilization (it was located in modern Europe). But this argument is a political because we live in a racialized world which discredits a people’s worth by notions of racial origin and assumes black skin is too inferior to construct civilization.

There is an academic debate that the Ancient Egyptians called themselves Black based upon KMT (Kemet) which in some circles is translated as “Black people.” Now at the end of the word KMT is an ideogram which can only mean physical place

The ideogram indicates the context in which the word applies. An ideogram for humans would always be used to represent a word that applied to people. However Kemet can only mean Black Land since the ideogram indicates it is describing a built or non-human environment. They called themselves “remetch en Kemet”, which means the “People of the Black Land.” Where rmt means simple without any adjectives “the people,” the same way the Numunuu means “the people.”(the authentic people) And likewise Zulu means people of heaven.

Ancient Egypt is commonly referred to as ‘km.t’ , with the theorized reference to the black Nile Delta earth. The determinative O49 is used to designate the term for ‘country, inhabited/cultivated land’, called the niw.t (a political designate). It is a circle with a cross which represents a street, ‘town intersection”(Gardiner 2005 (1957): 498)

But none of this discredits the founders of Kemet as being African people, just like the Fulani or the Amhara. “Black” in the North American context. The “social “construction of race in America does not rely on skin color. “African Americans,” as even Asante notes, ” constitute the most heterogeneous group in the United States biologically, but perhaps one of the most homogeneous socially.”

BLACK AND THE 60’s

Indians are from India , Chinese from China . There is no country called Blackia or Blackistan and a people must respectful be tied to geography as skin color is not the primary definitive identifier.. Hence, the ancestry-nationality model is more respectful and accurate: African-American, African-British, African-Arabian, African-Brazilian, and African-Caribbean. And if Black people has some validity as a political term it can not be limited in its application to people of African decent. Nostalgia is not an accurate place for African linguistic self-determination, and blackness is blatantly a cultural inheritance of oppressed people. The pattern of acceptance of a black identity globally walks hand in hand with European cultural oppression.

Black pride is reactionary pride, necessary then, Irrelevant now. As we blossom into a greater historical and cultural awareness of a Motherland a detachment with fictional attachments to slave names must be challenged, and we must end the romance with things that are a disservice to our identity today.

It is worth noting parts of African that are culturally intact such as in Ethiopia, Mali, Somalia, Nigeria and Niger have absolutely no fondness or linguistic presence of a “black identity.”

New York Times | The term African-American has crept steadily into the nation’s vocabulary since 1988, when the Rev. Jesse Jackson held a news conference to urge Americans to use it to refer to blacks. ”It puts us in our proper historical context,” Mr. Jackson said then, adding in a recent interview that he still favored the term. ”Every ethnic group in this country has a reference to some land base, some historical cultural base. African-Americans have hit that level of cultural maturity.” Since 1989, the number of blacks using the term has steadily increased, polls show. In a survey that year conducted by ABC and The Washington Post, 66 percent said they preferred the term black, 22 preferred African-American, 10 percent liked both terms and 2 percent had no opinion. In 2000, the Census Bureau for the first time allowed respondents to check a box that carried the heading African-American next to the term black. In 2003, a poll by the same news organizations found that 48 percent of blacks preferred the term African-American, 35 percent favored black and 17 percent liked both terms.

BLACK-AFRICA IS A RACIST TERM

Nobody on this planet puts a adjective on their identity, especially when they are a majority, except African people. Black Africa, Dark Continent, Heart of Darkness all articulate the colonial contempt for a continent and its people. But how does one arrive at the term “black Africans,” are there green Africans? Would you speak of “yellow Chinese,” or “brown Indians”? Even terms like “White Russian” are unused, despite Russia being a multi-ethnic nation. Because 80% white means the majority have no need for adding White to their Russian to qualify against a minority of “other” Russians. [3] Globally the term ” Red Indian” is rejected as deeply pejorative yet “black African” is still used even in South Africa which is used to define the majority of the population against the minority so-called white-Africans. Black African is as ridiculous as “rock stone”, rocks are stones so why double up two realities which are often the same?

There is an infinite an inexhaustible list of examples which show that no one with power wears and adjective on their identity, especially when equal or a majority. The peninsula of Korea is called Chosŏn Pando (조선반도; 朝鮮半島) in North Korea and Han Bando (한반도; 韓半島) in South Korea based on the respective names of the two countries. (wikipedia)They both use “Korea” as part of their official English names. In other words North Korea does not say they are North Korean, as far as they are concerned they are the KOREA. The South does not waste time defining itself as South Korea, again, as far as their national pride is concerned they are just Korea. Both countries have equal political and cultural agency. So how is it possible for a continent whose overwhelming demographic, political, cultural majority is African, need to refer to themselves as black + African? And with the split of N. Sudan and S. Sudan it would be shocking to see if N. Sudan adds the term “North” to its national rhetoric, to clarify itself from its new southern neighbor.

There is only one reason the term Black African exists and that is to deny nobility from African people. To explain away how Egypt could be nested in Africa but at the same time divorced from the majority of the African people. Therefore the argument “yes it is in Africa, but it is not Black African.” It is almost like saying Greece was a European civilization, but not a White European civilization.

If 95% of Africans are “Black” (capital B, if it must be used) then the minority should bear the adjective–not the majority. It is disrespectful to describe Africans with a label based solely on a color, especially when it does not accurately reflect the physical appearance of most Africans. This is made even more offensive when the etymological root of that label (black) is derived from the word Negro, and is used in place of the word African as a racial or cultural identity. In reality we must ask ourselves what is the difference between “Negro” and “Black” save historical association, the words mean the same thing, so we have moved from being Black in Spanish (negro) to Black in English (black). It is strange that despite all the genetic research and advance human anthropology we are still clinging to primitive 18th century post-Darwin model of race, which sole aim was/is to segregate and de-culturalize and enslave.

The concept of a “black Africa ” is a Eurocentric term based upon their ignorant primitive regressive deductions. It is true Arabs and Greeks referred to Africans as “black” but this was not a racial label, and moreover Africans themselves did not self-apply these external labels. Like the Phoenician who were called the “red people,” but no Phoenician would have referred to themselves in this way.

CHILDREN DIS-IDENTIFY WITH BLACK

In a recent survey conducted by the African Holocaust society it was noted that young African children (approx 4-5 years old, the age of race consciousness) when told they were members of the “black race” reacted with great confusion because they were also being taught the names of colors. Most of them objected to being called black and said they were not black but rather brown. A repeated survey found that when they were told they were African they did not object to the logic (they were African because their ancestors were from the continent called Africa). Blackness is illogical and only exist by force conditioning of children. This case study is profound because it shows how logic and identify form before social concepts are enforced.

WHITE AFRICANS

It would be very strange if a European, after 200 years in China or India, could be so powerful to alter the definition of Chinese just to be accommodated. Linguistic accommodation is only possible in Africa because of the prevailing injustice of a post-colonial dominance of European settlers. It is clear some European funded African politicians backed it, but where did it originate from? It is interesting to note Europeans (including white Arabs) constitute around 10 million people verses the 800 million plus Africans. Now this negligible minority by way of social influence has caused the majority to need to refer to themselves with the adjective of “black” to separate themselves from a serious minority group who want to be “white Africans.”Minorities of Europeans live in China, in India and in Arabia yet only in Africa has linguistic accommodation been given. Africans now must make room for those settlers who want to identify with the continent for capitalist reasons. Because once you identify with a continent then you have a legitimate claim to its resources. Thus the saying and the philosophy of Garvey “Africa for the Africans” becomes usurped. In South Africa the new trend of “Black Economic Empowerment” has seen the broadening, opening up of the borders of blackness so to speak. Indians are economically classified as ‘black’, and recently Chinese have been included in this definition. So again we see the relationship between linguistics and economic profit.In the scramble for linguistic real estate, why would these descendants of European colonialist who devastated and exploited the continent want to be called African? And in terms of self-determination who introduced these concepts?Despite claiming “African” in name they are very conscious of Whiteness when propagating the White dominant image on the broadcast mediums they control. Being White is clearly obvious when it comes to the dilemma of ownership which is still tipped in their favor. When all of these White South Africans rush home to Europe (when Africa gets a little sticky) do they encounter job discrimination experienced by fellow African South Africans or even 3rd and 4th generation African-British? They integrate seamlessly into the social environment created by White privilege. Seems like with the Indian “Africans”, African is a jacket worn to suit an economic or political opportunity.Race was not only defined in the 18th century, in Aksum and Kemet African peoples have always identified with degrees of racial inclusion and exclusion. The arrogance of Whiteness is to assume they are responsible for every single point of view that has ever existed on this planet. All the while South Africa remains White dominant and unchallenged by people who are the most vocal White Africans. Interestingly if you examine their lifestyle, you will find them to be the most racial conservative personalities. They date and marry women of their specific race, they socialize in White circles, they engage a distinctive non-African culture. And if they do have a few token “Black” friends they are often culturally compromised aberrations the continent can produce. The injustices of White dominance and the legacy of that dominance are smooth over by fictional fantasies of non-returning colonial tourist who still impose their reality as the norm for everyone else. Moreover, in dealing with these issues they always select broad base arguments and never deal with the core issue of African self-determination and agency.

Africa, unlike “black,” is a name, not a adjective. You can get on a plane and visit it, you can find it on a Sat Nav, it has boundaries, governments, you can grow crops on it, and build a house on it. But some say, Africa was a foreign name given to us, if this is true, it was given to us by our contemporaries not our conquerors. However, the word has Berber Tunisian origins meaning ” A sunny place” – Ifriqiya .Romans appropriated this word from which it is believed the modern word Africa came about the describe the entire continent. In addition, Africa is a unique name of a place and Africans are simply people who are native to that place. And over the course of history different names such as Habesha and Takruri were used to refer to African people of various regions, Ethiopia and West Africa respectively. Also the word Moor has been used across the centuries but as critics have established, the term “Moor” was used interchangeably with such other ambiguous terms such as “Ethiopian,” “Negro,” and even “Indian” to designate a figure from different parts or the whole of Africa (or beyond) who was either black or Muslim, neither, or both.

Massey, in 1881, stated that Africa is derived from the Egyptian af-rui-ka, meaning "to turn toward the opening of the Ka." The Ka is the energetic double of every person and the "opening of the Ka" refers to a womb or birthplace. Africa would be, for the Egyptians, "the birthplace.

Human skin color ranges in variety from the darkest brown to the lightest hues. An individual's skin pigmentation is the result of genetics, being the product of both of the individual's biological parents' genetic makeup, and exposure to sun. In evolution, skin pigmentation in human beings evolved by a process of natural selection primarily to regulate the amount of ultraviolet radiation penetrating the skin, controlling its biochemical effects https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_skin_color

“You can’t hate the roots of the tree without ending up hating the tree. You can’t hate your origin without ending up hating yourself. You can’t hate the land, your motherland, the place that you come from, and we can’t hate Africa without ending up hating ourselves - Malcolm X

While in Ghana, Dr. King Jr. told then U.S. Vice President, Richard Nixon, who was also in attendance at the event’s festivities: “I want you to come visit us down in Alabama where we are seeking the same kind of freedom the Gold Coast is celebrating”.Dr. King Jr. also returned from his trip deeply inspired about the Pan-African movement and penned a sermon called “Birth of a New Nation”. In it, he educated others, especially African Americans in the Civil Rights Movement, about Africa, then largely known as the “Dark Continent”. He highlighted various countries across the continent, including Egypt, Ethiopia, South Africa, Uganda, Nigeria, Liberia, Kenya, and Ghana and their plight. He used Ghana’s story to remind his brethren of the cost of freedom:“Ghana reminds us that freedom never comes on a silver platter. It’s never easy…Ghana reminds us of that. You better get ready to go to prison. When I looked out and saw the prime minister there with his prison cap on that night, that reminded me of that fact, that freedom never comes easy. It comes through hard labor and it comes through toil. It comes through hours of despair and disappointment.”2. In previously unreleased documents, it was discovered that Dr. King Jr. traveled to West Africa in 1960, this time, to attend the Inauguration of Nigeria’s Nnamdi Azikiwe in Lagos. He said the following about his trip to Nigeria:“I just returned from Africa a little more than a month ago and I had the opportunity to talk to most of the major leaders of the new independent countries of Africa and also leaders of countries that are moving toward independence. They are familiar with it and they are saying in no uncertain terms that racism and colonialism must go for they see the two are as based on the same principle, a sort of contempt for life, and a contempt for human personality.”

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crusherthedoctor · 4 years

Text

In the Hall of the Would Be King

“Hmm...”

“No, that won't work...”

“Too similar...”

“Not using another brainless monster, not without a catch...”

“If I can find another Conch... Nah...”

“I could just steal the Master Emerald again...”

"Maybe I can use Metal's copied data samples for something...”

"Refine the Slow-Down Shoes perhaps...?”

In his newest lab, surrounded by faint darkness, the aspiring conquerer was hard at work on a new plan to ensure his domination... or at least, he would be hard at work, if he didn't have schemer's block. Though the doctor had many ideas circling around in his head, he dismissed each of them for one reason or another, having taken their chances of working out - or lack thereof - into account. Needless to say, he was not in the cheeriest of mindsets as a result.

“Maybe a virus would do the trick, I haven't tried that sort of method before...” Eggman mused to himself, tapping his pencil idly against the desk where his currently empty sheets of paper were positioned. Normally his papers would be used up with elaborate thoughts and schematics, but this was not the case today. Not a single bullet point or diagram could be found on any of them. He frowned as he stroked his chin in thought. “But such a thing would take ages to prepare, and it could easily escape my control if I'm not careful... bah...”

He lightly tossed his pencil aside, and he slumped on his chair, his wide moustache drooping just a little. He hated it when his imagination came to a road block. Not just because it meant he couldn't be productive with his time and brainwaves, but also because it would pave the way instead for more time to reflect on... him.

He tiredly rubbed his hairless cranium at the mere thought of that meddlesome hedgehog, the one who had thwarted his expertly devised plans, and his immaculately constructed machines, every single time, for what felt like generations. Everything about that hedgehog bothered him to no end. His ridiculous face, his endless taunting, his undeserved luck... How he loathed him so... And how he loathed those irritating theories spread about how he secretly liked him and would regret defeating him for good.

Absolute nonsense, he thought, with a loud bristle of his 'stache. Far as he's concerned, any respect towards the hedgehog is purely on an academic level, directed towards his power and the admittedly entertaining challenge he brings. On a personal level, he wants nothing less than to see his cocky mug six feet under at the bottom of the ocean, and that will never change one iota. He may like his fun, but he's always been serious about obtaining his empire. Why would he go out of his way to postpone his own victory?

“Confound that Sonic,” Eggman quietly muttered, a sneer visibly planting itself on his face. “No matter what I whip up, the conclusion remains the same. How does he always win? What is it I'm missing...? What miscalculation...”

True, he had underestimated his nemesis a couple of times in the past, and the same applied to the hedgehog's increasing number of colorful aquaintances. But he's gotten wiser over time, on top of his already established scientific brilliance, so why did Sonic remain the eternal victor even now?

The doctor scoffed, as he crossed his arms in a muted huff. Surely it couldn't be because of all those friends the hedgehog had. Not when half of his victories were on his own. Not when Eggman himself had far more resources than all of them combined. Not when half the time, Knuckles was on his side, although to be fair, that trick stopped working quite a while ago. And yet... Sonic does always go on about how friendship is everything to him... That's why he's always spouting drivel about teamwork, right?

Maybe the argument of strength in comrades had some degree of logic to it, even if only a little. Sonic's closest sidekick does share a similarly impressive IQ, though still considerably below the doctor's own, in his generous and humble opinion. Since he entered the scene, Tails had always been making planes, ships, and all other sorts of technological doodads, and though they would rarely rival the sheer scale of Eggman's own contraptions, the fox boy's expertise in his own right could not be denied. Though he despised the fox just as much as he did the fox's idol, Eggman could admit that with Tails, he would always be guaranteed an intellectual back and forth. More than can be said for Sonic, who preferred to speak in outdated catchphrases that he could never comprehend the utter inanity of.

Eggman's sneer loosened, as he contemplated further, though it didn't disappear entirely. His biggest dream had always been to be recognised as the best and most beloved genius there ever was. Yet for all his efforts, everyone feared and hated him, because what, he fires a missile at the occasional city? He corrupts the occasional alien species into violent monsters? He pays the occasional media to publicly slander the hedgehog and his friends? Meanwhile, that loathesome piñata of spines was always the one who gained everyone's love and respect with minimum effort... the love and respect that belonged to him.

Why couldn't anyone on this entire globe see that he should be the one everyone should idolize. That he should be the one everyone should parade around like a reclaimed treasure. That he should be the one everyone wants to be friends with-

“How's the plan coming along, doc?”

“BUZZ OFF.”

“Alright then, see ya,” Cubot casually mumbled with a salute, as he left the room as quickly as he entered it.

He turned his head back to his empty papers, very much agitated. His mood was always at its worst when Sonic was on the brain, to the surprise of few. So what if Sonic was the world's fastest thing alive? Eggman was the world's greatest scientist alive. Making new innovations and paving the way for a better future (from a certain point of view) was far more worthy of high esteem than simply running around with your arms outstretched like an airplane. Stupid animal, wrecking apart his glorious monuments of technology like they're nothing.

Still, what monuments of technology they were...

He thought back to when he created the Egg Dragoon, and how he and Sonic - in an alternate and frankly bizarre form - duked it out towards the heart of the world. Despite the outcome being the same as most of their battles, he looked back fondly on the memory, if only because he remained proud of that particular creation in spite of its untimely demise. Why wouldn't he? It had more weapons than you could shake a ring at, its design was awe-inspiring without compromising its practical purposes, AND it could withstand the extreme temperatures of the planet's core with no issue whatsoever. It was one of his biggest breakthroughs, and this was a man who considered everything he ever made a breakthrough.

Well, almost everything. The Egg Dealer was made on an off day.

His lips curled into a smile, and he rested his legs on his desk, crossing them after the fact. As he clasped his hands by his rotund chest, he lifted his mood back up as his thoughts shifted from his enemy to his achievements. He was so delighted to finally bring Eggmanland to life that same day. He never quite decided on what exactly he wanted it to be as the years went by - one day it would be a city, the next day it would be a theme park - but when it finally went under construction, he was more than happy with the results by jamming all his ideas for it together. Sonic may have ultimately conquered it, but at least he got to see his much longed paradise in the metallic flesh for a brief moment... and it certainly wasn't an easy endeavor for the accursed pincushion regardless. He made sure of that much.

The Death Egg was another one he always had a soft spot for, no matter how many times Sonic sent it plummeting. It was the doctor's first project of such a scale, and its design remained emblematic of everything the mad scientist stood for... himself, and nothing else. Simplicity can do just fine sometimes. He laughed merrily as he recalled all his additional Death Eggs, and all his additional spacecraft that might as well have been the Death Egg, like the Cosmic Angel, and the Egg Utopia. He always did like the view from space... mainly because he got to look over what he considered his kingdom.

Sonic always questioned how he constantly had the money to make all his material, particularly his intimidating doomsday devices, and his consistently oversized fortresses. Alas, that would remain his secret. But who said he was shortsighted enough to only have a single means of obtaining his investments...? For all his childish habits, he was remarkably shrewd when it came to maintaining his finances. He would certainly hope so, that's for sure. What sight would be more embarrassing than a revolutionary without a penny?

And of course, there was Metal Sonic. Still one of his finest inventions to date, and track record of defeats aside, time and advancements have only reaffirmed that in a way. He remembered how unashamedly excited he was when he first witnessed his prized subject in action, particularly after witnessing its raw speed, having realised he had successfully created something that would give even its flesh and blood copy a run for his money in the very field he prided himself on. There was a reason that whereas other models and units came and went, Metal always remained by his side. He was undoubtedly a special robot to Eggman, and questionable though it may be, he eventually grew to see Metal as something of a son... Ironic, given who he was based on.

In fact, in retrospect, Eggman couldn't even bring himself to reflect that angrily on the Egg Fleet takeover, for as utterly humiliating as the experience was for him at the time, it at least validated the genius of Metal's programming, and how it brought the copycat's power to new heights.

Not sure what his appearance was going for at the time, though. That was a bit too tacky even for him to stomach. And you know, a betrayal's a betrayal, so he still had to be taught a lesson. He was only slightly more forgiving when it turned out that Metal had simply overloaded with all that power, as opposed to him actively calculating to upstage his master. He made sure that wouldn't happen again if the robot underwent any future upgrades... both the overloading and the poor fashion sense.

Even so, Metal was a testament to artificial intelligence, and a pinnacle of robotics. The doctor leaned back on his chair once more, cackling some more, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. He's made so many great things over the years, hasn't he? Of course he has. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be Ivo Robotnik, would he?

Suddenly, he paused, as his own surname flashed through his mind.

And with that soon came the memory of a different Robotnik altogether. That being, of course, his long departed grandfather.

His face quickly changed once again, this time neither happy nor angry.

Instead... there was conflict.

Once upon a time, he had nothing but praise for the memory of Gerald Robotnik, citing him as the inspiration to try his own hand at the world of science in the first place. Bloodline aside, perhaps it was no coincidence that they looked so strikingly alike. As a kid, he never actually saw Gerald in person, as the latter's occupation meant he was constantly hard at work on the latest concept that would revolutionize the world. Even so, he knew how amazing he was, and he admired all the intellectual prowess that he showed in his lifetime, even if he didn't particularly care for the whole "benefit of mankind" side of it.

But after that incident aboard the A.R.K... his thoughts weren't quite the same since then. He hated having to team up with that wretched hedgehog in order to ensure he had a world to conquer, as the one thing a genius like him hates more than even Sonic is having no control over anything. But his resentment over the incident went deeper than that. He still admired Gerald's intelligence, and still pointed to it as what led to the man that he is today, but the idea that his own grandfather may not have given a second thought about his own extremely gifted grandson's demise in the fallout of the A.R.K's collision course... was not an easy reality for him to consider. Even if they never met each other per say, did he really mean that little to Gerald?

And all because of his despair over Maria, the other grandchild...

The lesser one, Eggman thought bitterly, as he clenched his fist on the desk in a deceptively tranquil fit of stress. While Gerald was always too busy for young Ivo (and come to think of it, so were his parents, though that didn't matter as much), he had all the time in the world for Maria. Supposedly because of some illness or other that he dedicated his life to finding a cure for... but still, why did he hold her up high on a pedestal so much? Granted, Eggman never knew his cousin that well either, but what did she do to deserve it? SHE wasn't the one who made advanced automations during their school years, and anyway, if it hadn't been for her, Gerald wouldn't have gone insane and came close to wiping HIM from existence.

The doctor had no physical memorabilia of his grandfather, and it was always a secret desire to have at least one photo, no matter how old. But he also realised that even if he had one, it would have a likely chance of including the golden-haired child right beside him. For the sake of not having to witness the apparent bias at work, that was not designed in his own favor, perhaps it was for the best.

As he slumped further on his egg-shaped chair, he recalled to his own misfortune that it wasn't simply Maria on her own. By all accounts, Gerald seemed to favor another child over him as well... his pet project, to be exact. The Ultimate Lifeform.

The doctor's feelings on Shadow were every bit as messy, complicated, and a touch regretful. On one hand, he hated Shadow just like the rest. For making a fool out of him and causing the A.R.K. fallout to begin with, and for subsequently going on to join G.U.N. and oppose him alongside all those other anthropomorphic piles of sassy misery... along with that worthless traitor, E-123 Omega. His entire routine with the Shadow Androids was in part an act of petty revenge, to make the black hedgehog feel like a fool himself. An eye for an eye, as they say.

But at the same time... it didn't have to be this way. Eggman was perfectly aware that Shadow wasn't entirely on a different wavelength from him. Despite their dissimilar attitudes, their views were often in-tune with each other, and if there's one thing Eggman likes, it's when someone agrees with him wholeheartedly. They were both smart, and they could both see the grander picture. Not to mention their somewhat familial relation, even if they weren't literally related by blood. They agreed that the world had its issues, and the situation with Gerald was something that caused problems for both of them. It was also no secret that Shadow wasn't necessarily on buddy ol' pal terms with Sonic, especially when compared to the likes of the pink hedgehog, whose endless fawning never ceased to evade the doctor's approval and understanding. By all means, Shadow would understand Eggman's need for control, right...? Would he not take up the offer to help spread that control, and purge the world and beyond of all that could stand in the way of progression...?

No, it would seem not. Shadow considered Eggman's ideas a step too far into the realm of moral depravity (and perhaps absurdity), and never hesitated to inform him of that in blunt terminology. In Shadow's eyes, Eggman may be Professor Gerald's successor, but deep down, he was more comparable to Black Doom. Nothing more than scum in its purest form. At least, that was the impression that the doctor was given ever since the Ultimate Lifeform switched sides.

Is it possible... If he were still alive, and had he not gone off the deep end...

Would Gerald have felt the same way as his creation...?

Would he have disapproved of his grandson's actions...?

Would he have cast doubt on the path he's chosen in life...?

...Hmph. Who cares. What does it matter, when he ended up hardly a perfect bastion of selflessness either...

Eggman sighed to himself, born out of simultaneous acceptance and resignation. After all the time that had passed since the incident, it was still as clear as yesterday to him. He was forced to learn that day that for all his strengths, Gerald Robotnik was flawed like any other being... and those flaws came at Eggman's own expense, which was the important thing. He rested his elbows on his desk with his uniquely shaped head in his hands, almost prepared to sleep the night away to escape the depressing reality surrounding his childhood hero's shortcomings. No one was perfect, except himself.

Besides, he reasoned. Even Gerald apparently failed to unlock the mystery of the Ethereal Zone...

………...

Wait.

Eggman slowly raised his head, as if a light bulb inside had just been set to maximum. His body tensed up. There was no obvious emotion on his face, and yet the glint in his glasses seemed to shine that little bit more as he processed his fresh revelation. After a brief period of uneasy silence, sitting as still as a statue...

He catapulted from his chair without warning, and almost broke the door open to the right of his lab with his surprising strength, revealing a flight of stairs that descended into the unknown. He rushed down the stairs like a madman, his feet gliding faster than all those times he escaped the blue hedgehog on foot, yet he did not stumble for a second, for despite his sudden frantic behaviour, he was very much focused. He went further and further down, the shadows below inviting him to continue the path that suggested great promise... or damnation.

Though he would have taken the time to admire the gargantuan portraits of himself on the walls in any other instance, each of them in their own over-enthusiastic poses, he neglected to take a moment to do even that, such was the speed of his feet as well as his brain. When he finally got to the bottom, he slammed a second door wide open, which revealed what appeared to be a personal library of sorts, filled to the brim with notes and publications about a wide variety of subjects that, with a few exceptions, nonetheless pertained mostly to science and history. Even in this personal library, a magnificent golden statue of his own self stood tall in the middle of the room, its muscular arms holding up the roof as if it were the mighty Atlas, complete with a flattering six pack that was, let's say, visually ambiguous on the real doctor's own person.

Eggman scanned the rows of books to no end, his concealed eyes darting left and right at a speed worthy of his nemesis. He sprinted towards the row furthest on the left, starting from A and working from there. Most of his books were made by a certain author that he was very familiar with, right down to inhabiting his body, but he possessed some of the late Gerald's documents as well here and there. The more he thought about it, there was that one that he never got around to reading. He had obtained it way back in the day... must have been around the time of the Flicky Island siege... but if he remembered the cover correctly, he was absolutely certain it related to what just clicked in his head. It wasn't about the Ultimate Lifeform, or his Prototype, or the Chaos units, or the Black Arms, or the Gizoid, or even the A.R.K. itself… it was something else entirely, of which he only knew the name of. And though Gerald's pursuits were often connected to each other, this one might have been before all that...?

“Is there something you need, doctor?” asked the timely arrival of Orbot, as he made his own way down the stairs in a mild hurry. “I heard a spot of noise a moment ago, and...”

He already concluded that the doctor wasn't listening, as he was much too focused on finding that one book. He paced along the aisles like a hungry tiger, yet his eyes were glancing up and down repeatedly, faster and faster. It wasn't in the A aisle, wasn't in the B aisle, nor in the C aisle, or the D... Wisp books... Little Planet books... cooking books... where was it, he thought to himself in a jumbled combination of giddiness and frustration that frequently clashed with each other by the second. He gritted his teeth slightly. Where was that one blasted book. He swore to himself that if Cubot lost it, or if he placed it out of alphabetical order in the wrong aisle - even by the second letter - then he would gladly rearrange his scrapped remains into a Dreamcast so functional that he could play Skies of Spagonia on-

...No. That won't be necessary. Not today. For it finally came into view, in the G aisle, thankfully the correct placement in this case. Fitted tightly between the sleeper hit of “The Games of Dr. Eggman”, and the somewhat rarer “The Glory of Man: An Ivo Robotnik Story”, sat one lone book... a hefty one from the looks of it, even compared to those by its immediate left and right. Using the uncanny length of his right arm, he effortlessly picked it out, its weight resulting in no visible strain on his part. Not even a second into looking at the cover, he could already tell for sure that this was the very one, as it was marked with a rather beautiful array of different colours, almost every colour of the rainbow at that. It was capped off with sharp white outlines that appeared to resemble translucent crystals, each complex outline forming a circle all together, like the shining rays of the sun. The title, in thick white bold, was upfront about its subject:

The Gems of Heaven, by Professor Gerald Robotnik A study of Viridonia and its phenomena

Without a word, he scrambled through the pages, not giving the slightest concern towards the proud history of this region, nor its sights, nor its cultures... only one thing was on his mind, which was already beginning to make a sinister calculation even at this primordial moment. Flashes of colour were passing through the pages, with photos so awe inspiring that anyone else would have taken a moment to savor… Until at last, his speedy page turning came to a very abrupt halt. It was as if time itself grieved. He found the part he was looking for... to the unknown regret of the rest of the population...

“Is something wrong?” Orbot asked, more timidly this time. He was facing the back of his creator, and he had no idea what mood he was in, though given what he overheard earlier at Cubot's expense, he could have made an easy guess. The master still didn't respond, what with his intense fixation on what he was reading. Despite the plentiful amount of pages dedicated to the chapter in question, his mental process was breezing through it. His eyes finally slowed down, and he took the time to read it through a second time, though still rather quickly compared to that of the average person.

All of a sudden, he closed the book shut. It made a notable echo in the room, enough to make his servant flinch. His shoulders rose a single time, then relaxed back down, as if a weight had been lifted off of them.

“Doctor...?”

“We have work to do,” Eggman finally answered. His voice was calm... uncharacteristically so. “A lot of work. Perhaps I shall rebuild some old friends to help us out... In the meantime, set a course for Viridonia, immediately.”

“Viridonia? Never heard of that one... whatever, got it,” Orbot complied without argument. “Let's just hope Sonic doesn't obtain another new pesky friend to his collection when he inevitably catches on to us, hmm?” He was about to head back upstairs, but he hesitated for a moment, and raised a finger as he turned back to the doctor. “You are okay though, right doctor?”

Eggman stood still for a few seconds, though Orbot could see his head raising ever so slightly. He slowly turned to the robot's direction, counter clockwise... and with it, a perfect grin on his face. Orbot had seen that maniacal grin so many times before, so surely he would be used to it... Yet in his heart of circuits - maybe it was due to how it glistened in the shadows - he could immediately sense that something was off with this one... more than usual anyway... He didn't like it.

This was it, the scientist thought.

With uncontested proof, everyone would at last be left with no argument, as they finally witness the day.

The day he officially surpasses his grandfather to the world.

Even if the world has to suffer for it.

“Never felt better.”

#Crusher's Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Dr. Ivo Robotnik #Fanfiction

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mllemaenad · 5 years

Note

Wizards in Harry Potter aren't liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions. Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them. The two settings are completely different. Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren't necessary.

Hi Anonymous person!

Look. I’m a little perturbed by what you’ve got there, because you seem awfully willing to cause harm to helpless people on the basis of what they might do. But I’ll do this in chunks.

Wizards in Harry Potter aren’t liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions.

Well. Neither are mages in Dragon Age, largely because ‘hell’ doesn’t exist. I know that sounds flippant, but it’s important. Andrastianism isn’t Christianity, of course, but it does have a Christian aesthetic – more specifically a Catholic one – and the Chantry operates in a world reminiscent of a time when a pope could dominate kings and start holy wars.

That Christian aesthetic is also applied to spirits. Instead of the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ we have Enchanter Brahm’s five demons: rage, hunger, sloth, desire and pride. It’s a useful game mechanic, absolutely; you can’t have infinite monster designs in a game, and it helps the player figure out what kind of weapons to employ in any given fight. However, as the story goes on it becomes increasingly clear that the Chantry’s view of spirits and demons is simplistic at best and outright wrong at worst.

Spirits embody something that has become important to them. There are many, many more kinds than the Chantry’s sins and virtues lists would acknowledge. There’s a spirit of Command hanging out in Crestwood in Inquisition who just really wants someone to obey its orders for a while. Solas will talk to you about a spirit who embodies an ideal people have forgotten.

Demons seem to be largely spirits who have suffered in some way. We usually don’t know why. Solas’s friend is an obvious example – a spirit who was inexpertly summoned and trapped by frightened mages. It’s also noteworthy that Merrill talks about her ‘demon’ being bound and left over from war. While of course we can’t know exactly what happened there, we can fucking guess, right?

These are all just beings – people. And they’re all from the same place. Not hell, heaven, purgatory or anything like that. They’re from The Fade, which is their home, the source of magic, and was apparently much closer to the rest of the world before Solas and the Veil.

I’ve noted repeatedly that spirit possession is an important part of several cultures, and is often a positive thing. Possessed mages serve as companion characters (Wynne, Anders) and kick some serious arse in battle, and Justice just wanders around in Awakening wearing a corpse and it’s fine.

Of course, no one is saying that possession can’t go wrong. I’ve played the games, and of course my characters have killed both ‘demons’ and ‘abominations’. But. When you say something like ‘demons from hell’ you’re imposing a particular religious view on the story – one that allows you to simply declare that these people are evil and that it’s fine to kill them. We know that it is possible to liberate a possessed mage, and to heal a spirit who has been corrupted. We have seen both those things. But why bother if they’re evil, right? Just lock them up and kill them if things get tricky.

That view is wholly wrong for the setting of Dragon Age. But it is … pretty well on par with the view the Chantry actually expresses. So when you say ‘demons from hell’ I actually think that’s an excellent reason why the Circles should be abolished, because it’s imposing ideas on this situation that are wrong, unhelpful and cruel.

Also. I mean. Also. Yes, I have fought possessed mages in Dragon Age. I have also fought possessed templars. Possessed trees. Possessed bones. Possessed rocks.

If you feel we need to lock up everything that can get possessed, you’re going to have to start with all the people and then move on to all the plants and inanimate objects. If all things can be possessed, then all things need to be locked up. And if all things are inside the prison, couldn’t we just … not have one?

Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them.

Um. Sorry Anonymous person but … what? Have you … read those books? Now, granted I haven’t read them in a while but I have read them. And … I have no idea what you’re talking about.

‘Muggles’ in Harry Potter are usually comic relief, and even the ones that aren’t simple buffoons are depicted as largely helpless against magical attacks of any kind. The British government shows up just long enough to express a heartfelt ‘What the actual fuck?’ at the war with Voldemort before promptly vanishing from the plot again.

All of this … stuff about conventional weapons you’ve introduced has come from your imagination. It’s not how the relationship between Muggles and wizards is portrayed in the novels at all.

In fact, conceptually, I would say that the wizards of Harry Potter are much scarier than the mages of Dragon Age. Tevinter had an empire in Dragon Age, and because they value magic the magisters undoubtedly used it in the fight to obtain that empire. But they were taken down by famine and Blight, and finished off by war. In the series’ ‘present day’ Orlais has achieved the exact same thing as Tevinter with significantly less magic (not no magic, of course, since they will drag their imprisoned mages into battle), and there’s no sense that Tevinter can just zap its way back into power. They are constrained by economics, geography and politics just like everyone else. Magic is useful, but only up to a point.

Now … in Harry Potter, there’s a pretty strong sense that wizards could just take over the planet any time they felt like it. In fact, the back story contains one Grindelwald, who actually did want to take over the world and enslave Muggles. This was not a war between Muggles (who are not supposed to have been able to prevent this) and wizards, but rather an internal schism in the wizarding community. Gindelwald was not defeated by NUCLEAR BOMBS (And seriously – what the hell, is your plan to defeat wizards ‘flatten Scotland’? because that’s what would happen if you tried to bomb Hogwarts. You want to take out Diagon Alley? Congratulations, you just blew up London.), but rather in an old style man-to-man duel with another wizard. In a castle. They were ex-lovers. I’m assuming it was on the ramparts, it was raining and everyone was screaming like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker in Revenge of the Sith.

I haven’t kept up with it, but I am peripherally aware that J K Rowling has said … increasingly weird things over the years, and I’m not attempting to defend any of that. But there was a general … theme in the novels that … most people probably aren’t fascists, and when the fascists come from within it is the community that must take them down. So Muggles are not given much power or agency at all.

This had nothing to do with heat-seeking missiles. Just … what?

Meanwhile, over in Dragon Age the Chantry talks a lot about mages having advantages in battle, but in practice that’s not what we actually see. For a start, non-mages have plenty of weapons that work just fine against magical enemies - swords, spears, arrows, axes. Nobody in Thedas has NUCLEAR BOMBS, mage or not. It’s not setting appropriate. Anders may have been a mage, but he had to rely on explosive material (likely gunpowder) to actually get a significant bang.

Non-mages may also wield enchanted weapons, meaning that they can literally take magic into battle with them. The mage over there is shooting lightning from her fingers? Your sword shoots fireballs. What the hell are you complaining about?

Nor does simply having a weapon in your hand mean that you know how to use it. I don’t know how to use a gun. Someone could give me one, in a crisis, I suppose. But it would only be luck that allowed me to incapacitate an assailant, and I certainly couldn’t fight several. Most ‘ordinary’ people in Thedas won’t have much in the way of weaponry. But likewise, neither will mages. They have magic, but that isn’t the same thing.

How many dead bodies do you need to prove this? The mage who was apparently murdered by villagers in Crestwood, when she went in to try to help them. The mages cut down by the Qunari swords in The Demands of the Qun. The villagers who were going to fucking lynch Rhys and his friends in Asunder.

It feels like you’ve made up a story about how magic works in both of these series that isn’t true to either of them.

Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren’t necessary.

So … to be clear, you’re arguing for:

the abduction of and permanent separation of children from their parents

forced conversion to a religion and the suppression of alternative religious beliefs

deprivation of citizenship and the basic rights that come with that

reducing people to a permanent infantile status as wards of a religious institution

permanent surveillance of affected individuals (phylacteries)

execution without trial where deemed appropriate by religious authorities

… because people might get possessed and can sometimes make fire come out of their hands? Well. Okay then. Good to know.

#dragon age #chantry critical #Anonymous

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joshuascurls · 4 years

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make up | j.b.

IN WHICH: y/n goes out with ricky, ricky’s teasing is too much for y/n’s parents so she gets upset with a very turned on ricky.

INSPIRATION: y u gotta b like that - audrey mika

WARNING: oral, fem receiving, dom and switch. full on sex.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget your name.” After these words left Joshua’s mouth, I swear I had to practically contain myself from throwing a hand down my pants and touching myself in front of him. God, Josh’s dominant side is the hottest thing in the universe. Unconsciously, I said, “hmm.” Joshua smirked and turned to move even closer to me. He smelled impossibly amazing, and it was not helping that the first few buttons of his button-up were undone, exposing his chiseled chest and defined collarbone. “Yeah? You like hearing about how hard I’m going to thrust into you? How I’m going to make you so incredibly wet for me that my dick will slide in with ease…” I glared daggers at him, I wanted him so fucking badly but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “Okay, play hard-to-get baby, I think I’ll just,” he starts to unbutton his dress shirt even more, “make this game a little bit harder for you, what do you think?” At the sight of his abs, I wanted to pin him against the wall that I was staring at, however I stared ahead, poker face on.

Behind me, I heard him shuffle so that he was in my line of sight. Right when I blinked, I heard Josh’s belt quickly unbuckle, and the unzipping of his pants. Well, fuck. I thought. When my eyes opened again, there stood my boyfriend in all his glory, fully naked and pumping his shaft in front of me. At this I couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan. “Well, are you going to help me out here, or am I going to have to finish by myself?” Joshua asked me, pouting beautifully with that face of his. Damn, he knew I couldn’t resist him when he does that. “fine, but I’m still mad at you.”

“You won’t be when I’m through with you,” Josh said suggestively. I rolled my eyes, and got up from the couch, kneeling in front of him. He looked annoyed that I was still wearing my clothes, but since I was still mad, I didn’t really care. I pumped his shaft somewhat aggressively so that his pre-cum would come out quicker, then licked it clean. Above me, Josh had his head thrown back in pure ecstasy, he was mumbling words of encouragement for me, saying things like, “oh god, baby, just like that, you’re so good to me, don’t stop.” I bobbed my mouth up and down his now fully erect member, and I felt him relax as he reached his climax. Joshua moaned my name as loudly as ever. See, what he didn’t know is all the while I was giving him head, I was also rubbing circles on my now throbbing clit, maybe he’d been right about him being able to slide into me easily. “Y/N.. have you been touching yourself this entire time?” Joshua seemed amused but not surprised. “god, how do you expect me not to when you look like that?” Irritated at his amusement, I gestured to his fit, immaculate body. Josh pouted again, “c’mon babe, don’t be like that, besides, have you seen yourself?”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Bassett.” On any other night, I would have blushed and melted into his embrace, however, tonight regardless of how turned on I was, I was insanely mad at Joshua. “Why are you denying the fact that we both know you’re horny right now, and could be having mind blowing make up sex right this instant?”

“Because, Joshua, you kept teasing me at dinner with my parents! Do you know how badly that paints you as my boyfriend in their eyes? They probably think you just want me for my body!” He blinked a couple times, seemingly hurt. “How could you say that? You know how much I love you.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my messy hair, “I know you do. I’m just saying, if you wanted to tease me you could’ve waited until we got home, baby.”

Joshua nodded and said, “okay babe, you’re completely right I am so sorry. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything you want.” Josh was kissing my neck as he said this. For some stupid reason, my mind was telling me to go the fuck to bed already because it was late, but the ache in my clit needed sex, now. “I guess we could go upstairs and finish what we started… But you’re in charge, I need dominant you right now.” Joshua grinned. “Deal.”

He picked me up and carried me up the stairs, bridal-style, laying me on our bed. “Take off your shirt.” Joshua said huskily and darkly. I did as he commanded me, which left me in my red bra and dress pants. He admired my boobs in the bra for a minute or so before saying gruffly, “lose the bra, I want to see those beautiful breasts of yours.” I took off my bra, my nipples hardening against the cool air. Upon seeing this, Joshua’s usually hazel eyes darkened brown with lust. “Pants and underwear now,” Joshua said while stroking himself. I obeyed him silently a third time. Once I was completely naked, Joshua leaned forward onto the bed, inches away from my own body, he was supporting himself with his strong arms. He closed the distance between us, gingerly kissing me lovingly and then when I met his kiss with more force, he responded by slipping his tongue in my mouth to fight for dominance. I let him win, and he smiled against the kiss. “that’s a good girl,” Josh said approvingly. I felt one of his hands grab my left boob and his dominant hand travel down my curves resting on each spot leaving goosebumps behind. He traced circles on my abdomen, getting slower as he reached my pussy. I moaned his name and I felt him harden against me, he took a staggered breath as he composed himself and continued to rub circles on my clit. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby girl.” I nodded vigorously and said, “please just fuck me Joshua.”

Josh smiled wickedly at me and said, “as you wish, baby.” Removing his hand from my clit, he lined himself up with my entrance. “Ready?” Josh asked me, as caring as ever. I merely moaned in response. With a sexy chuckle, he slipped easily inside me, and as he thrusted into me, I threw my head back, moaning Joshua’s name over and over. As each thrust grew messier and sloppier, the pleasure and intensity grew, until I was panting so hard I could hardly breathe. “Please don’t stop, you’re so fucking good to me,” I managed to whisper out, until he slammed into me once more and as my orgasm caused me to explode, I screamed his name so loudly, it echoed throughout the apartment.

I gasped as I came down from my high, and Joshua asked me, “you okay, babygirl?” he waited for my silent nod, and then he proceeded to leave kisses down the entirety of my body, in just the way that drove me absolutely insane. When he was done, he asked me, “do you want me, my fingers or my mouth?’” Given the fact that I hadn’t had his mouth today, I said quickly, “your mouth.” Josh chuckled and said, “someone’s eager,” I giggled while I looked at him, doe-eyed and innocent. While his face traveled down my body, his mouth leaving kisses in random places, he said lustfully, while kissing the spot above my belly button, “you’re gonna be the death of me one of these days.” I could feel his hot breath against my clit, and once he started to kiss the inside of my thighs, I swore I was actually going to lose my mind. Joshua loved to tease me, but he forgets that two can play at that game. In my head, while he kept teasing me, I could only think of so many ways to tease him and drive him absolutely wild, but once he finally started to lick at my pussy, specifically targeting my clit, I simply said, “oh my sweet Lord.” Joshua chuckled against my heat and I could feel his eyebrows flicker up as if to say, “babe, not the time to bring the Lord into this.” I mean true, I thought.

While Josh’s tongue lapped at my core, I rubbed at my breasts to make them hard, since for some reason they were completely soft. I groaned when I realized he hadn’t done what he had promised: to make me forget my own name. Sure, his oral skills were fucking great, but not as amazing as they usually were... Josh’s head snapped up as if sensing my thoughts, “you’re not into this are you?” I shook my head and said, “I mean, it’s great but you’ve done better before. What’s up?” I asked, concerned. Joshua sighed and said, “I feel bad about earlier, I wanted to make it up to you, but I keep picturing your dad shaking his head at me when I kept teasing you at dinner.” I gave him a weird look. “You’re picturing my dad while you’re giving me head?” Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ew, Y/N! No! I mean, yes, but out of guilt not cause I’m gay for your dad.” I grinned at him, and said, “I know, silly, I’m just teasing.” “Okay, good. Now come here.” Josh commanded me. I smiled at him, as invitingly as I could, and swung my long legs around his bare waist. “You know, that I love you regardless of what happened tonight, right?” I said. Josh melted into my embrace and responded, “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t know that. I love you, princess. You’re my everything, my sun, my moon, my stars. My whole fucking universe.” I couldn’t help but kiss him after he said that.

The whole world seemed to fade into nothingness as our lips embraced; our tongues both fighting for dominance. When Joshua and I kissed, it felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was just what it was supposed to be: a declaration of love. Even though we were both naked, it was just as pure and chaste as if we were clothed. It was like that one scene from the Lion King, the one where Simba and Nala fall in love, kind of, forgive me for the odd comparison. We could both literally feel the love in the room, even though we were completely lost in the other, we could feel that this was a love that would last a lifetime. There were quite simply, fireworks.

When we finally came up for air, Josh was the first to speak. “That kinda felt like our first kiss, didn’t it?” I nodded, smiled with all the love I had in me, and said, “it did. But this one was better.”

“When and how on earth did I get so lucky?” Joshua asked me. “You’re telling me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” I nuzzled into the crevice of his neck. He laid his head against mine, and said, “not to totally wreck this beautiful moment but uh, I’m really horny.” I laughed out loud, and said, “not surprised at all.” I pinned him down on the bed, and said, “I let you have your turn, now let me make you feel good.” Josh licked his lips, stared at me, more specifically my body, with passion and lust. I looked down at his twitching cock, which was starting to look painfully red. I knew he needed some relief and quickly. I positioned myself over his length and slowly but surely slid onto it. Thankfully, I was still pretty wet, so it wasn’t painful really, and the expression of bliss on his face made any pain go away. Once he was fully inside me, I started to bounce up and down on his dick, which obviously made him get more turned on, seeing my naked breasts jiggle. His facial expressions were pure joy and love, and it made my heart grow with even more love for him, which I didn’t think was possible. Eventually, he started to twitch more, and then I saw it on his face that he was going to come. “baby, I’m gonna come, do you want to-“ I shook my head no, “Shh, it’s okay, just let loose. You forget I’m on the pill.” Josh groaned my name as he shot his hot cum into me, in four quick bursts. Once he was done, I slid off him, and lied down next to him. Josh put his arm around me, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. “I love you so much, baby.” I said, and he said, “I know. But I love you more.”

#joshuabassettsmut #joshuabassettsexy joshuabassett hot

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noelacciari · 5 years

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alright this is kinda bad but I'm gonna ask anyway. so I'm a new/casual hockey fan and this girl I'm friends w is super into hockey and I'm kinda having to bluff my way through convos rn so could you give me a basic summary of the roster and stuff pls :)))

okay babe, so this is how we’re gonna set this up for you… personality quiz style. (also wait I’m assuming you mean Bruins so. im very sorry if this was about another team lol)

Step 1: pick your star

- Do you strive for perfection? Do you look for stability in a relationship? Can you appreciate a good beard? Do you need a perfect man to project all your feelings regarding men onto and then you never have to even look at another man in real life? Then Patrice Bergeron is the guy for you. He’s perfect. Like legit. Has been nominated for the Selke Award (best defensive forward) approximately a gazillion times, eventually they’re going to change it to The Bergy. Gorgeous play maker, dominate on the face-off circle. Quiet leader in the room. A pillar of the Boston community. The only person who can tame Marchand (we’ll get to him later). Every person in New England is AT LEAST 30% in love with him, regardless of sexual orientation. (I’m not even kidding). Future Hall of Famer. Without a doubt. (Forward (Center), #37, first line)

- Do you enjoy carbs? How about charming smiles? Do you enjoy men who toe the lines of fashion? Do you like a show, flashy lights and stunning tricks? Do you like people who make you smile, no matter how bad your day is? Then David Pastrnak is your man. Better know as Pasta (said with a deep Boston accent), he’s been tearing up the ice from the moment he arrived in TD Garden. A member of the Best Top Line in the League (alongside Bergeron - and that other guy who we will get to later). His goals are always absolutely nasty, just. Sexy, sexy hockey. Off the ice he’s sunshine personified, known for his chipped tooth smile, wearing checked suits and floral shirt, and just being generally the best. (Forward (winger), #88, first line)

- Are human sized chipmunks something you think would be pretty cool? How do you feel about Long Island? Would you think it’s funny if a guy who was a star player on a Boston team dated the daughter of a Pittsburgh coach? Do you think it’s even funnier if a guy who tweeted “I hate the Bruins” then proceeds to get drafted by them? Then Charlie McAvoy is your star d-man. At the ripe old age of 21, Long Island native Charlie McAvoy already carries a huge chunk of responsibility on the Bruins defense core. A future leader for the team (captain. imo), Charlie puts up incredible minutes, and is the perfect complement to his d-partner Zdeno Chara (we’ll get to him too). Also known as Cheeks (on tumblr) or Mac (by his teammates), Charlie isn’t afraid to throw his weight around on the ice, and he looks good doing it. Dude is a Bonafide Stallion. (Defense, #73, 1st Pair)

Step 2: Pick your Dad

- Are you vegetarian? How do you feel about EXTREMELY tall men wearing easter bunny onesies? Do you prefer to bike to work instead of taking the train? what about pigeons? If you consider pigeons friends, then Zdeno Chara is your new dad! (Boogie Woogie Woogie). You know how Bruins fans like to say - Don’t Poke The Bear? Well Big Zee is that hypothetical bear. Our beloved captain and father earned himself quite the reputation on the ice, known for his hard AF slap shots and even harder punches. Clocking in at 6′9″ and 250lbs, Zad is still a beast at 42 years old - and he apparently has no plans to retire. While his age doesn’t appear to be slowing him down on the ice, Zee has shown his softer side off the ice with his inspirational and extremely cute Instagram. He came into Boston in 2006 and was named Captain upon signing, and has forever changed the culture of the Boston Bruins. Chara facilitates an inclusive but hard working locker room, and his legacy will live on in Boston long after his retirement. (Defense, #33, first pair)

- Are you a dog person? Also are you American? Those are really the only 2 qualifications you need to chose David Backes as your dad. Although some of us older folks like me (at the stunningly old, reaching retirement age of 26) might consider Backes to be more of a daddy, the majority of Bruins tumblr view him as their Dad. Common nicknames include Dadkes and Papa, and his effect on the team after being brought back into the line-up during the playoffs has endeared him to fans. While his deal is… not great (he’s expensive!!) and he hasn’t performed up to how much money he’s paid, it’s clear that he’s a leader on the team. The young guys look up to him, and the older guys respect him, and that’s what we’s appreciates ‘bout him. Also. He LOVES animals. Backes and his wife Kelly (who have known each other since kindergarten how cute is that shit) have their own charity that helps animals!! (Forward (Winger/Center), #42, currently 2nd line)

- Were you really into magic as a kid (or currently)? Have you always gravitated to your one friend’s dad who was super quiet but super smart and taught you how to play chess at that cookout one time? Then your new dad is David Krejci! Sometimes called The Wizard, Krejci is known to make magic happen on the ice. Between no-look passes and somehow being able to know exactly where his wingers are going to be before they even know, tbh. Krej is probably the MOST underrated player on the Bruins, but he’s always dependable, and always seems to be there when you need him. (Forward (Center), #46, 2nd Line)

Step 3: pick your weirdo

- Have you never eaten a vegetable willingly in your life? Do you consider yourself a chef - specifically for children? Do you think getting your teeth knocked out is fun and exciting? Then Jake “JD” DeBrusk is the dude for you! Goofy AF off the ice and a sniper on it, Jake is extremely worthy of being your chosen weirdo. He has a lucky winter hat named “tuukka” that he’s been wearing all playoffs, and he might only have one brain cell but we love him for it. At one point called a draft bust, Jake has been proving himself to be an elite player, and has been a steady winger for Krejci all season. Plus. He’s cute af. (Forward (winger), #74, 2nd Line)

- Is getting under other people’s skin one of your favorite activities? Do you like to piss people off by being better than them at everything? Does licking someone’s face in the middle of a hockey game seem like a Good Idea to you? Back in step number one did you chose Patrice Bergeron as your Lord and Savior? Then Boston’s favorite Pest - Brad Marchand - is the guy for you! Brad started off as an undersized fourth liner, and has worked his way up to one of the top scorers in the league. Outside of Boston he’s probably the most hated player in the NHL - earning himself a reputation for being a pest (at best), and sometimes being dirty (at worst). This year we are proud to announce that he did not get suspended once! Though he did come in just short of 100 Penalty Minutes. Marchy was our top scorer this year, and has become an integral part of this team. (Forward (winger), #63, 1st Line)

- Are you secretly an arsonist? Are frogs your favorite animal? Do you have a crush on that Pretty Jock that’s in all your classes and sometimes smiles at you in the lunch line? Then Danton Heinen is the weirdo for you. Danton has been a quietly steady performer for the Bruins this season, spending time on the top line with Bergeron and Marchand when Pasta was out. He’s growing into quite the play maker, and he’s known for making good decisions on the ice that lead to goals. Danton also happens to look like a frog, which is an important character trait imo. He’s a tumblr favorite, but he’s a good person to like even in real life, because he makes an impact on the ice. (Forward (winger), #43, 3rd Line)

Step 4: chose your conventionally attractive white boy

- OKay we’re not doing the questions thing because judging by your ask you may not even be interested in men so i’m just going to dive straight into the description. He’s tall with a strong jaw and perfect curls and pecs of a God. Charlie Coyle is a Weymouth, MA native who Boston brought back home at the trade deadline. He’s been a bit of a hero this playoff run, and he looks damn good doing it. The B’s have been searching for a good 3rd line center, and Charlie has filled the role perfectly. Personally, I am deeply in love with him, in case you could not tell. (Forward (center/winger), #13, 3rd Line)

- an integral member of the Bruin’s all important Line 1A (aka the 4th line), Sean Kuraly has got it all. Piercing blue eyes? Check. Perfectly highlighted hair? Check. Cute little chin? Double check. Though he’s been photographed wearing jorts and an open flannel shirt with nothing underneath it, Sean is still a certified Babe. He’s been Klutch in every playoff run he’s had with the B’s, and is the scoring force behind the 4th Line’s brawn. Not to mention, his signature celly is a leap from the ice! (Forward, (center/winger), #52, 4th Line)

- Brandon Carlo… how do I begin to explain Brandon Carlo? Brandon Carlo is flawless. He has two bible tattoos and a designer bulldog. I hear his hair is insured for $10,000. I hear he does Tri-City Americans commercials… in Washington. His favorite movie is Miracle. One time he met David Backes on a plane… and he told him he was pretty. One time he punched me in the face… it was awesome (’cause he missed). In all seriousness though, Monte is a hardworking, defensive defenseman, who has really shone this season. He doesn’t show up on the scoreboard often, but he makes it really hard for other teams to get goals. Even though he struggles to score empty netters... he’s still a babe. (Defense, #25, 2nd Pair)

Step 5: Chose your shorty

- If you’re thinking - wait, shouldn’t Marchand be in this category? Isn’t he the smallest guy in the World? Then Torey Krug is the Short King for you. An ELITE offensive defenseman, Torey is absolute dynamite on the ice. In game 3 of the Stanley Cup Finals Torey made history by becoming the first Bruins player ever to record 4 points in a stanley cup finals game. Krug is quick on his feet and can snipe from the blue line, but isn’t afraid to lay down the law when he needs to. Notorious for loosing his helmet so he can show off that flow, Torey also has a bulldog named fenway and a BABY on the way. (Defense, #47, 2nd Pair).

- Is talk shit, get hit a favorite saying of yours? Can you appreciate biceps the size of your head? Then Noel Acciari is your man. He might be short but he’s built like a tank, and he uses that bod to plow through guys on the ice. Noeldozer is known for laying down the cleanest hits, and we love when he takes out the trash! The Rhode Island Native got married last summer, and has a golden retriever named Thor. His mouth is currently fucked right up but I promise he’s actually kinda pretty. (Forward (winger/center), #55, 4th Line)

- Are you one of the apparent hoards of people that think a Boston accent is sexy? Could you get into a guy who says the fuck word on live television? Are collarbone tattoos a thing you admire? Do you like sexy, tough little son’s of bitches? Great! Matt Grzelcyk is the little guy for you. A BU grad who’s become a cornerstone of the Bruins d-core, Grz is a tough little cutie who works hard and gets shit done. More of an offensive defenseman, Matty G has been there for the team even when all of our other defenseman were injured. His Dad has worked at the Gahden for like a million years, and playing for the B’s is a dream come true for Matt and his family. He got taken out in Game 2 of the Finals, and the Bruins are currently seeking revenge. Dude’s got a good beard going too. (Defense, #48, 3rd Pair)

Step 6: Pick your goalie

- As much as we love Jaro, there’s only one goalie you need to know about when you’re learning about the Bruins... 2 U’s 2 K’s 2 Points... Tuukka Rask! The clear MVP of the Playoffs this year, Tuukka has been a brick wall in the net for the B’s. He’s known for being quick tempered and a little... wild, at times, having been caught on camera beating the shit out of a bunch of milk crates and on time brandishing a skate blade at the refs like a knife. Though some fans seem to never forgive Tuukka for the B’s loosing the 2013 playoffs, around these parts we love and respect and rely on his prowess in the net. Off ice, he kinda looks like the grinch (and knows it), though apparently Bergy thinks he looks like Harry Styles (i wish i was kidding). He’s also got 2 adorable little girls! (GOALIE, starter)

So now you’ve got 6 guys that you know about, right? I would pick 1 or 2 of those to be the ones you pay attention to. Listen for headlines about their goals/play, if you’re watching games, look for their numbers on the ice. All you gotta do is be able to say “Wow did you see that Coyle goal on Saturday night?” and all of a sudden you sound like an expert! (This works even better of you choose a guy not from the first category).

If you have more questions about specific players or lines, feel free to reach out! I know not a lot but I know many people who actually do know things lol

(Also to any of Bruins tumblr who made it this far, I KNOW i’m missing your faves okay. Wagner, Clifton, Nordy, MoJo, Moore, and half the providence roster deserve a spot on here. But I’ve already written too much)

(Also Also, special thanks to Lil for helping me with Monte’s description)

#boston bruins #this was a labor of love #look i know not everyone will agree with my categories but i was trying to be succinct #mine #mine:bruins #anonymous #beth's got mail #bruins

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gunnerpalace · 5 years

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Hyperchlorate: How I’d Rewrite Bleach (Part I)

Okay, this is it, kids. This is gonna be—as best as I’m able to manage—the ultimate synthesis of all my scattered discourse on Bleach, combined with a condensation of what I’d do about it all. Buckle up, because these posts are going to be long, and I’m not putting it behind a spoiler. I’d apologize for destroying your dashboard, but I put in the work.

WHAT’S UP WITH THE NAME?

What's referred to as (liquid) bleach is usually a solution of sodium hypochlorite (NaClO) in water. Sodium hydroxide (NaOH) is usually added to slow the decomposition of bleach into sodium chlorate (NaClO3), and sodium chloride (NaCl)—that is to say, common salt. (How appropriate!)

Sodium perchlorate (NaClO4) is a perchlorate salt which is very closely related to the above and, when treated hydrochloric acid (HCl), makes perchloric acid (HClO4) and common salt. The former is very nasty in and of itself and is mostly used to make other, worse things.

In the context of chemistry, the prefix hypo- means one less oxygen atom than something suffixed -ite, while the prefix per- means one more oxygen than something suffixed -ate. (See here for a chart if you want.) The prefix hyper- isn't used in chemistry, but I think it sounds better.

tl;dr: It's a weird chemistry not-joke used as a code name for this project.

WHAT’S THE PITCH?

The short version of the pitch is: Most people who liked Bleach as a thing liked the initial Karakura and Soul Society arcs, and interest gradually dropped off after that.

Therefore, if you wanted to rewrite Bleach, you’d want to focus on that time period and expand on it and develop it further. You would also want to rework whatever came after, and more thoroughly integrate it with that time period in tone, focus, and perspective.

To do that, you first need to understand how it was structured and what made it work in the first place.

OKAY, WHAT’S THE LONGER VERSION?

The longer version of the pitch is: Bleach was supposedly a shōnen. One of the Big Three shōnen, in fact (in Western thinking). But understanding Bleach and why it worked (and why it fell apart) requires debunking that idea.

You see, the thing is that Bleach was never particularly good at being a shōnen, at least as most people think of such a thing. When people think of shōnen, they tend to think of four (4) things: 1. A Certain Kind of Protagonist, 2. Worldbuilding, 3. Plot, and 4. Fights. Bleach doesn’t really fit the pattern when it comes to these elements. I’ve been over these before, to a certain extent (many times), but I’ll reiterate them here:

A Certain Kind of Protagonist: Goku. Luffy. Naruto. Natsu. Kenshin. Yusuke. I don’t have to name their anime or manga; you already know who they are and what they’re from. Ichigo is certainly a kind of protagonist, but as Sera (@hashtagartistlife) once pointed out, he’s very different from what one normally thinks of when they consider the genre. Ichigo is a punk with a heart of gold (a la Yusuke) but he lacks the inner drive and confidence of all those other protagonists. He is, in fact depressive at the start of the series; he’s at best listless and nihilistic, and at worst suicidal. He’s something of an outcast loner with a tsundere personality he developed as a kind of mental armor. He’s deliberately mediocre at and unengaged with things. That changes (and the story starts) when Rukia enters his life and gives him the ability to act on his desires to do good and protect people. In other words: his confidence comes from outside of himself. Indeed, it’s a recurring plot-point that the longer he’s separated from Rukia, the more his confidence wavers. In addition to all the other things that were noted as marking him out, this one is crucial, because the average shōnen protagonist is possessed of unwavering confidence. Having Ichigo’s confidence (and his animating ethos) externalized to Rukia essentially splits the traditional protagonist role in two. (Indeed, you could readily say Ichigo and Rukia are deuteragonists, despite the story focusing on Ichigo—he eclipses her visually, but her gravity is unmistakably present and dominant.) This by itself tells you that you are dealing with a different kind of story than usual. This fits in with one of the reasons people tend to like Bleach, specifically the first.

Worldbuilding: Few shōnen rival Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings in sophistication and detail, but they usually have well-developed worlds where whatever is going on substantiates—and ideally enhances—the plot and the journey of the protagonist. Think of the world of One Piece, which is excellent at this, or those of Naruto or Fairy Tale, which still sufficiently sell that there is a living, breathing setting in which the story is taking place. Bleach is something more like Plato’s Allegory of the Cave: it holds up on its own if you accept its premises at face value, but if you start to investigate more carefully, things stop really making all that much sense. My own personal go-to example is the identity of the two unrevealed Great Noble Houses which presumably wielded power in Central 46. (I don’t consider Can’t Fear Your Own World a satisfactory answer for this, or other questions, and notably it has only revealed one of them.) Another example is the history of the Great Noble Houses, or Soul Society in general, or the Soul King. All of these (and much more) were things that were shoved into data books or follow-on novels, if they were ever addressed at all. The more one inspects the worldbuilding of Bleach, the more it feels like it’s flat or significant sections of it were missing—like it’s a movie set instead of an actual place. Most fiction strives to present, as much as possible, a kind of simulated world that you could imagine existing. Bleach, perversely, rather brazenly gives us a set of stages with clearly defined borders instead. This ties into the third and fifth reason people tend to like Bleach.

Plot: In academic circles, you will be told that what distinguishes literary fiction from genre fiction is the former is about characters (i.e., how events impact them), and the latter is about plot (i.e., what happens). For example, White Noise by Don DeLillo is not about “The Airborne Toxic Event,” it is about what that catalyzes in the protagonist’s life. Something like One Piece is very much a genre story about adventure. Things happen to the characters, sure, but they don’t really change all that much over time. They’re all following their dreams, and those dreams are (for the protagonists) often immutable. Bleach doesn’t really follow that structure. Ichigo and Rukia have an ethical viewpoint, but they’re not really on a journey to implement it. Things largely just kind of happen to them. In this regard, Bleach is much more like a literary work than a genre one. It also features, as Sera pointed out in an earlier post, a depiction of Joseph Campbell’s monomyth within the Karakura and Soul Society arcs: we see Ichigo and Rukia go through the process of “becoming a hero.” Protagonists like Luffy or Goku already are the heroes, it’s just that nobody else knows it yet. The plots that unfold are thus very different. Furthermore, Bleach is also often a symbolic work. For example, the Karakura II, Hueco Mundo and Fake Karakura arcs are a sort of inverse deconstruction of the earlier Karakura and Soul Society arcs; they function as an anti-monomyth and refutation of it (think of it as being like “how a hero can fail”), a la how Bloodborne subverts the monomyth to incorporate Lovecraftian mythos: they are designed to cast down the achievements of the protagonists and demoralize the reader, rather than being triumphant and uplifting. Bleach also frequently prioritizes thematic elements over verisimilitude. One example is the association of romance with death (Isshin and Masaki, Ryuuken and Kanae, Kaien and Miyako, Rangiku and Gin, and so on). Another is loneliness (no one ever seems to really hang out or have many friendships), especially when it comes to parents (Isshin and Ryūken have strained relationships with Ichigo and Uryū, Ikumi is a single mother, Chad parents are dead, Orihime’s were reverse-abandoned, Keigo and Mizuiro’s are absent, Tatsuki’s are never seen, and so on). Bleach absolutely prioritizes characters and themes over traditional plot or plausibility—that is to say, how things feel is often much more important than how exciting or realistic they are, which ties into the second and third reasons people like Bleach.

Fights: Bleach’s fights tend to suck. There are some exceptions, sure, but the power of those exceptions usually stems from the emotional content and personal nature of them. Something like Ichigo vs. Byakuya, Uryū vs. Mayuri, or Rukia vs. Aaroniero (to name a later example) are very emotionally charged fights. That said, even fights that aren’t particularly interesting, like Ikkaku vs. Edrad, tend to be more about showing us aspects of the characters’ personalities more so than about the fight itself. In fiction, one is encouraged to show rather than tell, and more extreme situations (which violent confrontations are one example of) allow one to show deeper and more extreme aspects of a character than slice-of-life situations usually do. This is what Bleach’s fights are often in service of. This is evident from how uninteresting the average Bleach fight is. There’s a lot of sword-pressing, a lot of ineffectual diagonal slashes, a lot of appearing behind someone to their surprise, a lot of losing an arm as a serious injury, a lot of no-selling attacks, and whoever reveals how their powers work first usually loses. The fighting quickly boils down to shikai and bankai, or their equivalents, with the other aspects of fighting, like kidō (and the rest of zankensoki) being discarded except when they reflect some matter of character (for example, Byakuya or Uryū’s more analytical and technical approach to things). Combat in Bleach isn’t about a robust combat system or consistency, nor is it about what looks cool—it is about what shows off the character in question. This is unusual for a shōnen and ties directly into the second reason people like Bleach.

I’ve talked a lot about why Bleach is liked, and it’s now prudent to get into that. In my opinion, the reasons that early Bleach was well-liked and well-received can be boiled down to five (5) things: 1. Deuteragonists, 2. Character Designs, 3. Mystery, 4. Contrast, and 5. Urban Fantasy Setting. I’ve been over most of these before, but they also bear repeating.

Deuteragonists: I have explored this concept in quite some detail (see: 1, 2, 3) before, so I’m not going to go too deeply into its mechanics here. The most obvious selling point here is that splitting the role of the protagonist into two mutually supporting halves that are fallible in their own ways is A. relatively unique, and B. humanizing. Ichigo and Rukia are by no means either the first example of this (consider Sherlock Holmes and John Watson) or the last (I've not seen Psycho-Pass, but Shinya Kogami and Akane Tsunemori seem to have much the same relationship), but I am unaware of any (supposed) shōnen prior to Bleach that attempted it. (That’s not to say that it doesn’t exist, but rather, that its obscurity if it does simply reinforces the point.) That made it unique for its time. That Rukia is a (competent and independent, but still vulnerable and feminine) woman only makes it even more unique, especially given the medium and how women tend to be treated within it. It also allowed for both Ichigo and Rukia to have problems as characters, and to largely grow beyond those problems over the course of the series, rather than there being yet another immutable and unchanging rock of a protagonist like so many other shōnen feature. When coupled with their interpersonal banter and dynamics, they formed a major draw together simply because their sharing of the role was so unusual and well-executed.

Character Designs: Bleach suffers from a dizzying overabundance of characters. Many of them are only present for a few chapters, at most, and yet even characters who appeared very briefly have any number of adherents out there among the readership or viewership. Consider characters like Starrk, Bambietta, or Bazz B., who have little to no establishment, and little panel time relative to the series, but who nonetheless gained resolute fans. Sometimes they have backstories shoehorned in to help sell them (as in the case of Starrk and Bazz B.; the most hilarious example is probably Giriko being given a flashback several chapters after he was already dead), but often they succeeded without them. They also often succeed despite their personalities largely being remixes of existing characters. How? Because of their character design and attitudes. Bleach was enormously successful in delivering characters that appealed to somebody, even at almost only a glance. The characters almost radiate a sense of mie purely through their designs. This sort of visual imminence routinely overcame all other character shortfalls.

Mystery: The anime of Bleach began airing on October 5, 2004. Coincidentally, Lost started airing on September 22, 2004. They began at almost exactly the same time. What does one have to do with the other? Nothing, except for the fact that they both relied heavily on mystery and both capitalized on it (in different markets) at almost exactly the same time. The bulk of Bleach is predicated on inculcating a sense of mystery. This is why basic facts that would often be mentioned in passing are kept tightly wrapped secrets until the end of the series and beyond. (Token examples, great and small: Who are the other two Great Noble Houses? Where’s Yoruichi’s zanpakutō and why can she turn into a cat? What’s the deal with the Soul King? Why is there a fox-man like Sajin around, and is he a yōkai or what? What was the Final Getsuga Tenshō?) Even things that were resolved, like Ichigo’s parentage, what was going on with his “inner Hollow” and zanpakutō, and so on, were kicked down the road as long as possible to create an air of mystery. The most obvious manifestation of this was all the guessing about the bankai of various characters that the series egged on. This sense of mystery and a desire for closure kept quite a lot of people invested when their patience for the rest of the series ran out.

Contrast: While lots of anime and manga frequently leaven their drama with comedy, or vice-versa, Bleach was unique for the means in which it did so. It’s worthwhile to draw a contrast with something very close to its opposite: Gintama. Gintama is particularly notable because of its odd mix of different elements; it has a fantastical alternate history setting and can go from irreverent comedy (running the gamut from pop-culture puns to crude toilet humor) to deadly serious drama in just a few pages. However, Gintama’s default mode is comedy. Bleach is a relatively grounded secret history with a default mode that is dramatic. In this regard, they are equal but opposite. Early Bleach was a very dark and grim, almost Lovecraftian setting, and often had elements of horror or was just plain gross, but was lightened up through the way in which it approached that and its frequent inclusion of humor. This contrast is also heightened by the relative lack of fighting in the early manga; when fighting does occur, it’s all the more notable because the focus is largely upon slice-of-life elements. As the series progressed, this element of contrast was lost as it became relentlessly serious (in the process, becoming desensitized to its own sense of horror, great or small) and tried to become a battle manga.

Urban Fantasy Setting: Although Bleach ultimately goes on to visit rather fantastical places, it started out in a very grounded and realistic fashion. The sleepy (fictional) suburb of Karakura in Western Tokyo is just the right mix of urban and rural to be relatable to almost anyone. Simply by virtue of being based on a real area (the region around Tama), Karakura feels lived-in and well-developed, despite the fact that we see very little of it. (This is especially true compared to Soul Society [be it the Seireitei or Rukongai] or Hueco Mundo, both of which are very sterile and fantastical in a bad way [especially since the former is really just a stylized representation of the Heian period in Japan]. There is a very old parody of DBZ featuring the line "We need to go to some place that's completely desolate and... that would never be in real life at all, and it's huge, and it's a bajillion miles wide and it's nowhere to be found on earth—but it's right over there!" and that accurately describes both Soul Society and Hueco Mundo. I’ll get into this more in the next post.) The initial focus on day-to-day high school life also gave it a solid grounding for the age bracket of its intended audience. In this capacity, it exactly nailed the setting of teen-focused urban fantasy. The interesting thing is it did so before a lot of the most prominent novels in that genre were written. In other words, Bleach was a market-leader in urban fantasy for teens, and beat many of its peers to the punch. Just as deuteragonists were a major selling point out of their sheer novelty, so was the setting.

As an aside at this junction, I’d like to direct your attention to something from the Wikipedia page on urban fantasy, regarding the distinction between urban fantasy and supernatural romance:

The two share 90% of their genre DNA. However, the main differences are this: Urban fantasy focuses on an issue outside of a romantic relationship between two characters. Paranormal romance focuses on a romantic relationship between two characters and how outside forces affect that relationship. The best litmus test to determine if a story is urban fantasy or paranormal romance is to ask the following question: 'If the romance between Character A and Character B were removed, would the plot still stand as a viable storyline?' If the answer is 'yes,' chances are good it's urban fantasy. If the answer is 'no,' it's most likely paranormal romance.

Now, whether you think the relationship between Ichigo and Rukia is romantic or not, I would note two things. The first is that if their relationship was removed, the plot would not “still stand as a viable storyline.” The second is that the events of the Karakura and Soul Society arcs are very much about “how outside forces affect [their] relationship.” (As were all subsequent events involving them, really.) In short, I would argue that it’s impossible to suggest that early Bleach doesn’t sit somewhere that very closely approximates paranormal romance, if not being one outright. In this regard, Sera’s assertion that Bleach is a shōjo is a lot closer to the mark than you might think, as is my own that it was on the path to becoming either a battle shōjo or a couple shōnen.

HOLY SHIT, GIVE ME AN EXECUTIVE SUMMARY SO FAR?

To summarize, Bleach started off as a pseudo-paranormal romance (if not an actual one) that succeeded on the basis of being—on the one hand—grounded, characterful, and novel, while—on the other—also being mysterious, emotive, and meaningful. Bleach was, at the start, not necessarily trying to sell itself as an unbiased account of “things that happened in this fictional world,” or create an expansive universe. It was instead a rather intimate story set in a particular place, focusing very much on its characters and on conjuring up emotions.

Even when it went to Soul Society, you might still just as easily think it as something like an off-beat Kabuki play rather than a traditional shōnen. (Perhaps making it not so surprising that it was so easily adapted into a musical play.)

I feel that Bleach is also notable for embracing the aesthetic principles of Japanese art and culture that other traditional shōnen usually do not heavily emphasize; it features elements of not just Kawaii (of course), but Jo-ha-kyū, Geidō, Miyabi, Iki, Ensō, Shibui, Yūgen, and Wabi-sabi. (Indeed, I would say that an over-attachment to those last four is a major component of why it ultimately failed.) This also gave it a unique flair.

I think it was ultimately so successful to begin with because it was a unique melange of elements.

BUT I LIKED BLEACH BECAUSE OF SOME PARTICULAR THING YOU DISMISSED AS ANCILLARY!

There’s no accounting for taste. I’m just telling you what Bleach’s focus was and why it was initially exciting and good at what it did.

OKAY, FINE, WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH REWRITING IT?

Like I said, I think it’s important to first understand what worked and why. Then, it’s important to understand why things went wrong. (And boy, did things go wrong...) Only then can you reasonably propose solutions to fix things.

Next time, we’ll go into what went wrong, which involves a mixture of poor planning, shifting priorities, inflexibility, overindulgence, and hubris. But for that story, you’ll have to stay tuned for Part II!

#Bleach #Hyperchlorate #Meta #Analysis

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vinylexams · 5 years

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INTERVIEW with Brian Cook of SUMAC, Russian Circles, Botch, These Arms are Snakes, and Roy

Brian Cook of the MANY gnarly bands listed above took time to answer a bunch of questions that had been burning a hole in my mind for years earlier today. Did you know that aside from playing bass in some of the heaviest bands currently in existence, Brian is also an avid record collector and he also runs a very similar page where he posts all of his records and writes up a bit of history and personal context with each one? A man after my own heart! I’ve dropped a link to his Tumblr below and you’d be a fool not to go check it out and follow his work there.

https://bubblesandgutz.tumblr.com⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I really appreciated having a chance to talk to a very talented musician who also places a LOT of importance on physical medium and the recording process. All too often I get submissions from bands who either don’t know the in’s and out’s of the vinyl format or they took a lot of shortcuts and deprive their art a chance to really shine in the ways that vinyl allows. I picked Brian’s brain about his approach to creation of physical musical media as well as his history as a collector (and even tried to convince him to get These Arms are Snakes play my big gay wedding reception!). Thanks for taking the time to tell your story to us, Brian!

You've been a member of several incredible bands over the past few decades (Botch, Sumac, Russian Circles, These Arms Are Snakes), all of which have released pretty much everything they've recorded on vinyl. How important is the vinyl medium for you as a musician and creator?

Thanks for the kind words. It's really important to me for my music to have some sort of physical format. I realize that mode of thinking might seem sort of old school or outdated, but i've always been enamored by music as a kind of historical artifact. When I was younger, that meant it was important for me to have an actual Dead Kennedys cassette as opposed to a dubbed version from my friend. It was like the difference between owning a painting versus owning a xerox of a painting. When I became a musician, it was a sign of validation. By having a record with my name on it, I had created something that would potentially outlive me. And now in the digital age we've convinced ourselves that everything lives forever on the internet, but it's not true. Myspace just lost all their music. I've written for a lot of online music outlets that have closed shop or simply deleted old posts. Meanwhile, I have a trunk full of old zines that outlived the supposed permanence of blogs. So while the digital age is great for convenience and scope, creating a physical recording is really the more reliable way to make sure something exists for more than five to ten years, or however long it takes for the newest technological fad to become obsolete. Vinyl seems to be the longest lasting format, so it's my preferred medium. But if my music exists on tape or CD, that's fine too.

Do you approach your recording and production processes with specific formats like vinyl in mind? If so, what do you do differently? Absolutely. The main concern is that we're dealing with the time constraints of vinyl. For bands like Russian Circles and SUMAC who have really long songs, it means we have to be careful how we sequence our records because we can easily exceed the 22-minutes-per-side rule. We've also been told by pressing plants that it's better to have long drones in the middle of an album side than at the beginning or end because there tends to be more surface noise at the beginning of a side and more warble at the end, and drones don't do much to mask these imperfections. But while one can complain about the limitations of vinyl, there are also issues with digital formats that can alter the way an album is put together. For example, the digital version of Empros has a longer drone at the end of "Batu" than the LP version, partially because of vinyl's limitations, but also because digital outlets like iTunes don't recognize records with long songs as full albums unless at least one track is longer than ten minutes. So we stretched it out on the digital version so that we'd be compensated appropriately for our work, but condensed it on vinyl so that we didn't compromise the sound quality.

Of all of the albums you've contributed to, which one stands out to you as the one you feel most connected to?

Probably Geneva by Russian Circles, if I had to pick one. We wrote that record over the span of several months at a house in rural Wisconsin. It was one of those ideal scenarios I'd always dreamed of---hunkering down in some isolated retreat and just immersing ourselves in the writing process. I've never walked away from an album feeling as accomplished as I did with that one. It just felt like we'd achieved something that had previously been out of my level of expertise. I think we've made better records since then, but I don't think I've ever felt as successful in making the sounds in my head translate to the recording. With regards to my other bands, I feel that way about Botch's We Are The Romans, These Arms Are Snakes' Easter, Roy's Killed John Train, and SUMAC's What One Becomes. But Geneva will always hold a special place.

How did you get into vinyl collecting and how does it play a part in your life?

I started buying vinyl around '92 because it was cheap. My first LP was Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet's Savvy Show Stoppers. I bought it for $2. Then I discovered 7"s, which was the dominant format for hardcore and punk bands at the time. Throughout high school, I mainly bought 7"s because i could buy 3 or 4 a week on my allowance. And let's be honest... most hardcore bands in the '90s had better 7"s than full albums. But vinyl was so dead at the time that you could also go to thrift stores and scoop up the entire Creedence Clearwater Revival discography for the cost of one CD. Even new vinyl was cheaper than their CD counterpart back then. So it's a bit of a drag now considering that vinyl is currently the most expensive format, but I still get a thrill from going to record stores, digging through crates, and coming home with a new LP. I can't say I buy that many 7"s anymore though.

What do you think about the relatively recent resurgence of large-scale vinyl production and collection?

It certainly has its advantages and disadvantages. I buy a lot of reissues just so I can have a clean, good-sounding copy, so I appreciate the resurgence in that regard. At the same time, the vinyl boom has made used record shopping a bit more of a drag. I don't know how many copies of Neil Young's Harvest I saw in used bins throughout the '90s and '00s, and then when I finally decided to buy a copy five years ago, it seemed like they'd all been snagged and the reissue was going for $50. When the Zeppelin discography got reissued a few years back, I mentioned wanting a new copy of Physical Graffiti to my husband. He went to our local indie record store in Brooklyn and asked the owner if they carried it and he totally balked at the question. "Why would we carry a reissue when you can buy a used copy of that in any record store for $5?" he said. My husband was like "every used Zeppelin record you carry is beat to shit and goes for at least $20... what the fuck are you even talking about?"

If you had to pare down your entire collection to no more than three albums, which would you keep?

What's the broader context? Like, are those the only three records I can listen to for the rest of my life? Or is it just a matter of only being allowed to own three records? If it's the former, I'd probably choose Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, Miles Davis' In a Silent Way, and a Can album... either Ege Bamyasi or Soon Over Babaluma. Ask me tomorrow and I'd probably list off a different three. If it's the latter... like, if i'm merely holding onto records because the actual artifact means a lot to me but I can still listen to music in some other capacity, then I'd probably go with the His Hero Is Gone / Union of Uranus split LP, Undertow's At Both Ends, and Sticks & Stones Theme Songs For Nothing, just because those seem like a pain in the ass to replace and they're important records to me. I have records that are worth way more money, but I'm not someone who buys records because they're valuable.

Do you have a "white whale" record you still haven't found?

Not really. For ages I resisted the urge to buy used records online, but I've since relented. The record that finally broke my ordering embargo was Hack's The Rotten World Around Us. They were a band from Adelaide, South Australia in the late '80/ early '90s who sounded like a grungier version of the first couple Swans records. Super heavy and scary. I got turned onto them through a 7" on Alternative Tentacles, but the LP was never available stateside. The first few times I toured Australia i went to every record store I could find in hopes of finding a copy. No one had ever heard of Hack. The singer was in another band called Grong Grong, and members of that band had gone on to be in King Snake Roost, Lubricated Goat, and Tumor Circus (with Jello Biafra on vocals), but no one had heard of them either. In my mind there was this rich underground of Australian noise rock from that time period that was still vital and valid, but the reality is that it was largely ignored and forgotten. I eventually found a copy online and bought it for $20. A year later i found a used copy in Boise. Oh well. I'd love to find Acme's To Reduce The Choir..., or an original copy of Popol Vuh's second album, or the Neu! 7", or the Greenlandic prog band Sume's Sumut album.

Hypothetically how much money would I need to raise to get These Arms Are Snakes to reunite to play my wedding reception? My family will hate it but my partner and I will be very happy, etc.

We still talk about doing some proper "farewell shows" since we bailed on doing them back in 2009/2010. Granted, now they'd be reunion shows, but in our hearts they'd be our proper goodbye. We're putting together a vinyl release of various odds and ends for next year, so maybe that'll give us an excuse to finally book something.

#vinylexams #vinyl #vinyljunkie #onmyturntable #nowspinning #sumac #botch #thesearmsaresnakes #seattle #taas #roy #russiancircles #briancook

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hazbinextgeneration · 5 years

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(Special thanks to @palettepainter for the pic idea. Mimzy and Alastor belongs to Vivziepop.) What was a mother? She had heard many definitions of the word by the time she was just a couple years old. Some said it was the one who birthed you or gave you life. Sometimes it was a silly woman at the orphanage who signed those silly legal papers. Some even said it was the person who raised you. In that case a mother could be your aunt, sister, grandmother, cousin, friend, stranger.... But it could also mean your father or another male could be your mother. Anyone could be labeled as a mother, father, guardian,....Parent. But sometimes a mother was simply the woman who married your father. But she didn't trust this woman... Oh yes. This plump little woman may have been older but she was truly the more powerful of the two. The blood of Kaycee and The Radio Demon flowed through her every being, her brain twisted but not broken. She was obviously the better one of the two in everyway.....Then WHY in all of Hell's nine circles would her father choose to cling himself to this sorry excuse of a mate? She had no powers, their same interests were very little in her eyes, and she obviously held no true status beyond her well off voice. Yet he coddled and fonded over her like he would her, but in a more spouse way. Anyone would fall for her father, and who could blame them? He was powerful beyond any mere mortal soul, tyrantical. And a loving father behind closed doors. For a long time Alastor had been her everything. Her father. Her mother. Her whole home and world. She never even laid eyes on her true birther. But oh well. He always said to smile through it all. She was going to be the next tyrant of hell alongside him. They would do a many wonderous things.... But that dream all but crashed the day he met...Mimzy. The woman who broke into her father's emotions and made him swoon over her. Like a love struck gentlemen straight from church. She would never stoop for someone so low like her. Then why did he? She couldn't understand it. Maybe it was because she was still young, not even ten years old yet. But this woman was turning her world against her. It got worse when he fathered two others like her. Not as powerful or perfect as her but just as twisted minded. Then all came crumbling down. Stories, lullibies, toys all for them. These two little deer that she shared half blood with...she didn't mind of course. She took care of one other also of her father's blood. Hannibal fit in with her. She wouldn't have minded these two.....If they didn't resemble her. The female was blonde and the male had her disgustingly pink eyes.....But they were still part of her. SHE WAS STEALING HER WORLD. SHE WAS TRYING TO MAKE HER PART OF IT THROUGH THIS. IT WOULDN'T HAPPEN IF SHE DID SOMETHING. Killing wasn't an option. Despite seeing her father hunt, she still was too young for her mind to take a death by her hands. And he'd know who it was soon. Blackmail neither. She knew nothing that her father didn't like about this woman. Perhaps fake evidence? Hmmm. "Queeny, Sweetheart. Have you been digging through the dirty laundry again?" There it was. That sickly pink eyes insect with that sweet tone her father used with her. Why she bothered trying to confuse her was beyond her. She gave a chuckle at the sight of her wearing one of her father's oversized shirts. Queeny usually got anxious when Alastor went on one of his trips for days on end. And the nervous fawn would cling to something with his scent on it. It helped calm her knowing his scent was on her. Not many demons would dare try anything sending his scent to her. Usually it was an old shirt, but she looked absolutely adorable watching the toddler scamper around and sometimes falling over the big shirt when Mimzy tried to catch her. "You know you're not supposed to wear dirty shirts." "Father's dominant scent keeps me safe. It's this natural thing called survival of the fittest.~.....It's the reason he puts his scent on you." She said the last part with an undertone, but it didn't sound threatening with her little squeaky voice. She chuckled and walked her way over towards her, "But that's shirt's dirty. Come on. It's nap time anyways." "I have no need for those I'm afraid. I can be awake for weeks on end." "I don't doubt that, but you're 'awake' needs a break now. Come on." "No. I have no desire to." That didn't stop this woman from walking towards her. Amused smile and heels clicking. ......SH*T!! She quickly turned and bolted down the hallways like she did many times before. Her fawn legs easily giving her more speed, but unfortunately her father's oversized shirt making her stumble over half her steps and instead of a run, she ended up quickly stumbling about like a newborn fawn. Her father's mate didn't even have to run to be right behind her. Her amused smile never faded as the just casually walked behind the toddler waiting for her to just tire out or finally tip over like she usually did....But her smile quickly turned to a frown ounce she looked up. "Queeny, stop. Come here." "You are not my mother! Lady I am not leaving my safe haven for the likes of my you!" Who did this woman come off as thinking she could order her around. She was not leaving the only thing possibly keeping her safe without her father's presence. She continued to stumbled blinded by the shirt and the hair constantly floating around her face. "Queeny, I'm not kidding! Come here now!," she shouted voice panicking. "I want my fathe-" The world went around and a pain suddenly coursed through her left side. Followed by another hard blow to her head the second flip....and then something soft and firm gripping her and holding her up. "Why don't you listen to me?!" Mimzy quickly lifted the small fawn from mid air above the third step of the stair case up and into her arms. The small child stared up patheticly at nothing in particular. " You could've gotten hurt! What's wrong with you?! Don't you know to listen when I tell you-?" "I WANT FAtheR!!," she shouted in a distorted voice, "I W-WA-..NT FaTHEr NoW!!" The light above the stairs flicked above them as the child continued her tantrum in her arms. When Mimzy turned her around to scold the child, she nearly dropped her at seeing the red dripping from under her eyes. At first she thought the worst and somehow she hurt both of her eyes, but is became clear that she was just crying when those black n' yellow eyes opened to stare at her. "I want Father!" "Alastor's not here right now.....You need to listen to someone he knows is going to take care of you," she said in a much more soft but firm voice, "Don't you think he'd want me to keep you safe?" "Father's scent keeps me safe! You're trying to take it from me!'' Well at least her voice went back to it's regular radio-ized self. "I'm not weak! I will not submit to you!" Mimzy stared at the little girl in her hands with a new realization. "Is that what this is all about? Oh, dear." She was hoisted against the plump woman's shoulder and taken back up up hallway they started from. They didn't even go that far. Strange how far you think you go when you can't see where you're going. She really didn't have any other choice but to stay huddled against her shoulder as Mimzy carried her back towards the entrance way to her bedroom. Kicking it open with her foot before walking in. The child still sniffed but leaned back to look at her ounce she sat down on the bed. Her younger siblings were still sleeping in the corner of the sared nursery. How ironic. She was placed down on the soft bed and looked up at the taller demon. "There. You look tired." Queeny sniffed and reached one of her father's oversized sleeves to rub at her dripping face. "I-I'm not." "You wanna hear a story?" ".....What kind?" Mimzy smiled while reaching over to carefully grab her blanket and pull it towards them. "Well. There's a King of Deer- "Like Father?" "Mmm hmm." The blanket was pulled over the child as she continued to stare up at her. "And he had a little girl, and this kind fell in love with a human." "A human? Why would a majestic creature like him fall for a mere human?'' "Hmm. I don't know. Love is a strange thing." She got up from the bed and made to turn around- "Where are you going?" "Oh? I thought you weren't tired. You don't need a bedtime story if you're not tired." "I suppose a nap wouldn't be a bad thing." She smiled and sat back down on the bed when Queeny laid down on the giant pillow. "Tell me how this Deer King fell for the human. It doesn't seem logical." Her smile got wider. "Well. Once there was a Deer King, and his little girl. And one day humans came into the forest without them knowing-" ================================================ "-and so while she was never the true mama to the little fawn, she learnt that you should learn to accept love for what it was and not try to intervene when you know someone's happiness is gonna be shattered." The child lazily blinked her eyes up at her while battling the sand man it seemed. Mimzy smiled and rolled up the dirty shirt she managed to slip off her and stood up from the bed. "...Did you like the story?" "....Mmmm. Ok." Her mouth stretched far in a yawn showing off chompers that clearly resembled Alastor's. "It'll....do." She smiled and began walking towards the door. "Good. Now go to bed. It's late-" "Goodnight, Mama-" She froze. "What did you-?" Queeny was already asleep by the time she turned around. After a few minutes of standing there, she turned back around and went back out of the door. "MMMIMZY!!" The louder than life voice scared her as the taller figure quickly approached her from up the hallway. Smiling from ear to ear. "Mimzy, my darling, I just came back from the picture show debate and thought I would surprise you!" "Oh...Oh, what a surprise." "Mimzy...You're crying." He narrowed his eyes as he spotted the pink liquid running down her cheeks. ''Did something happen while I was gone?" ....She shook her head and smiled. "No. Nothing a mother couldn't handle."

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space-rangers-on-ice · 5 years

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World Building and Chara Backstories!

So, this is for a lovely on Twitter, anyone who still follows me on this pretty much dead account (i love and appreciate you if you do, you da real mvps lol), so ignore this if you want :) If you still wanna follow me, you can find me, my art, and my ramblings @TheSnarkanist on Twitter <3

So, Dominic and Casimir. Dom and Cas. My precious OC’s. Here’s their story and a bit of the world they live in!

Before I go into detail about them though, let’s start with a bit of world building first so some stuff later makes sense!

WORLD BUILDING!

So, in this Universe, there is a huge plethora of Gods, think Greek or Japanese Mythology style, just tons of gods everywhere! Anyway, there are two overarching categories of Gods. Elemental Gods, and Empathetic Gods. Elemental Gods (pretty self-explanatory, but will elaborate anyway lol) govern over the elements of the universe and the mortal world, such as the basics of Fire, Earth, Wind, Water, etc, as well as the broader elements such as the concepts of Dark and Light, among many others. Most of the elemental Gods tend to be more powerful than Empathetic Gods, so they make up the majority of the upper tiers of the Hierarchy of Gods. Empathetic Gods govern over human emotion. Not to say that they control how people feel, absolutely not, humans have Free Will, the Gods cannot control any humans unless absolutely dire situation requires it to keep the Universe in balance. Empathetic Gods essentially require human emotion to remain in existence, and the more people feel a certain emotion, the stronger the gods of that emotion will become. The major downside of Empathetic Gods that Elemental Gods don’t experience is that they literally rely on mortals to maintain their existence. Empathetic Gods wink into existence when a certain emotion becomes widely felt across many people, and Empathetic Gods fade from existence when a certain emotion is no longer as widely felt by people. For example, if there is war and strife, where fear, anger and hatred are the emotions running wild through the people, then gods of those emotions grow stronger, more gods of those emotions wink into existence, and gods of emotions such as happiness, love, and compassion, will begin to weaken and/or fade from existence, and the reverse is true in times of peace (think of the anime Noragami, if you’ve seen it, to get an idea of how Gods and their powers work). Due to this constant change in power among the Empathetic Gods, most of them make up the majority of the lower tier of the Hierarchy of Gods.

And that wraps up the important aspects of my World Building to explain my OC’s and their story!

DOMINIC AND CASIMIR!

So, I’m gonna start with my problem child, Dominic AKA Dom. Below is his Godly Form!

So, Dom is 20 years old. He grew up in an orphanage after having been found wandering the streets at the estimated age of 8, with no memory of who he was or where he came from. He was an angry, closed off child, and so he bounced from foster home to foster home, nobody willing to keep a child with the issues he had. He ran with a pretty bad crowd, and spent quite a bit of his adolescence in and out of juvie. He picked up the habit of smoking cigs at 14, dropped out of school at 16, and then when he aged out of the system at 18, he began bouncing from crappy min wage job after another just to afford the crappy run down apartment he barely lives in. He developed a habit of dying his hair wild colors, and he is currently sporting purple and green (as shown above), and he has quite a few piercings as well. One thing that has remained a constant for him though, is his passion for photography. Specifically, he loves sneaking into old abandoned places and photographing them. He feels a kinship with these places that have been forsaken by the world and lost to time, just like him. He feels the need to preserve their memory, so at least one person will remember them. Because of his childhood memory loss, he obsesses over photography so that he never forgets anything ever again, it’s one of the things he fears the most. Dom is a good guy though, he has a good heart, he’s just been fucked by society and has a lot of issues to work through. He’s better since he’s grown up a bit, but he’s still pretty angry at the world and has issues with authority, he hates being told what to do. Now, how did he lose his memory exactly? Well, I won’t go into detail about how or why, because I don’t wanna spoil much, but I will give this interesting tid-bit away. Dom is actually a former Minor God of Compassion, and something happened that caused him to flee from the heavens to take refuge on Earth. He reverted his form into that of a child, locked away his powers, and erased his memories, so he would grow up as a human and forget about his Godly troubles.

Now, for some information on Casimir AKA Cas!

Cas is the Dragon God! The Dragon God is the God of Creation, he rules over everything within the Universe, and is the King of the Gods. He has been the current Dragon God for over a thousand years now. The Dragon God is not all-seeing and all-knowing, however, and can make mistakes just as easily as anybody. The Gods are not perfect beings by any means, though some may try to act like they are (lol). Cas is a kind and benevolent Dragon God, he treats everybody equally, and is stern when he needs to be. He is fiercely protective of those he cares about. He can be stubborn and impulsive though, and doesn’t always realize his own faults, so sometimes he has to get knocked around a bit to realize when he’s being stupid. Anyway, so poor Cas here, just being a good Dragon God, minding his own business, just trying to do his job, suddenly gets taken out by some unknown entity out of nowhere. By taken out, I mean that this strange black entity shows up randomly with no warning, steals Cas’s powers, puts him to sleep, and then basically just fucking YEETS the fucker down to Earth. And it all happens so fast that the other gods around Cas, his Inner Circle mostly, have literally no time to act and stop this entity in time, so they lose their King, but before the Dragon God’s powers can fully manifest within the entity, Cas’s Inner Circle are able to restrain and seal away the entity so that it can’t do anymore damage. Since they have no clue what it is or where it came from though, they can do nothing more but keep it sealed until they can get some information. So, the Inner Circle splits, half researching the entity, the other half trying to find their fallen King.

That wraps up my OC’s! Now....

HOW DID THEY MEET!????

So glad you asked! So, one day, Dom snuck into an old abandoned mansion to check it out and mark some good spots to come back and photograph. So, while he was carefully picking his way through the rickety old building, he gets startled by a damn pigeon of all things! As a result, he accidentally missteps and falls through the floor to the room below. There’s no light in the room except for his dim flashlight and what little light is shining in from the hole he made above him. As the ceiling starts to collapse on him, he suddenly gets yanked out of the way by...... Cas! (Because who else would it be? Lol) Casimir has been asleep in this mansion for the last 12 years, and Dom basically falling on his face is what finally woke him! So, Dom helps Cas get out of the mansion and lets Cas stay with him for a few days while Cas brushes up on the current state of the world today, and tries to communicate someone from his Inner Circle with no success. Once Cas has his bearings, he thanks Dom for taking care of him, and goes on his way. From there, Cas uses his charm and intelligence, as well as a little bit of what small dredges of power he has left to build himself into a successful businessman (because how else are you gonna afford the lifestyle of a GOD and have the power and connections to do questionable Godly things?) and searches for a way to contact his Inner Circle to find out what happened up in the heavens and find a way to get back up there. And that’s how Dom and Cas meet!

WRAPPING UP!

Now, of course Dom and Cas will meet again and all kind of craziness will ensue, but if I talk about all that here, that’ll spoil the fun and then what will be the point of writing my story at all? If you wanna know more about them, you know how to contact me! I’ll be posting more art pieces of them over time as well, and my hope is to eventually turn their story into a comic, so if you want to keep up to date on how that is going, follow me on Twitter~!

Thanks for reading! <3

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oscar-isaacs-number-one-bitch · 5 years

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“Aquaman” Movie Review

Aquaman is DC’s sixth and latest entry into their cinematic universe, and the first since the severely underwhelming box office results of Justice League made us all question whether or not this attempt at replicating Marvel Studios’ success was ever actually going to succeed post-Wonder Woman. This film finds Insidious and Conjuring director James Wan helming the story of Arthur Curry, the son of a lighthouse keeper from Amnesty Bay and the Queen of the underwater kingdom of Atlantis. After the events of Justice League, as well as a submarine rescue in which he encounters the man who will become Black Manta, Arthur returns home to his father. It isn’t long, however, before Princess Mera finds him, and warns him of a coming threat: Arthur’s brother, King Orm, means to declare war on the surface world, and everyone in it. If he is to be stopped, Arthur must put off the grudge he has against his people (whom he has denied because they supposedly killed his mother), and become the hero he is meant to be.

If there were a single word to describe what I felt sitting in the theater watching Aquaman for the first time, I wouldn’t know what it would be. I’ll say ahead of time that Wonder Woman is absolutely still DC’s strongest film to date, but the sheer level of commitment this movie has to its mid-2000’s levels of cheese and pulp give it an affecting charm not too many superhero films find themselves openly sporting in the modern day. Many superhero films, especially when it comes to those put out by either Marvel Studios or Warner Bros, have a particular dispensation towards either hard-hitting emotional drama or outright action comedy, so to see something so bizarre as Aquaman’s singular commitment to its premise that sounds like something a 10-year-old playing with action figures would have written significant portions of is really something quite special to witness.

This is all thanks to the visionary direction of James Wan, a man so adept at building worlds and creating wholly unique atmospheres for actors to play in that he might as well have actually gone underwater to the kingdom of Atlantis just to get some primary location photography. Seriously, the underwater worlds in this thing are genuine stunners with easily the best bioluminescent environments and effects on screen since James Cameron’s Avatar (not that anyone’s really tried all that hard since anyhow). Traveling through the kingdoms of Atlantis, the Brine, etc, is wonderous and somewhat frustrating, but only because you’re taken through it so quickly you never stay long enough to drink in every bit of visual beauty this movie has to offer. But if you thought the visuals and central premise of an Atlantian superhero having to find a trident and fight a war against his brother underwater for the safety of the world is the most absurd thing in Aquaman, you are not prepared for the hurricane that’s about to hit.

About one third of the way through the second act, there are a number of montages that occur all within about ten minutes of each other and feature the only three songs in the entire movie whilst the rest of its runtime is filled with a mostly workable but never-quite-finds-its-footing score from Harry Gregson-Williams. These montages begin with a sort of half-committed Baywatch tribute that features a cover of Africa by Toto (sung by musical artist Rhea), which is mixed in with a rap by Mr. Worldwide himself (Pitbull). Not even half an hour later, the film sports another fantasy tribute by setting a Tangled-esque scene between Arthur and Mera in a shoreside town near the same beach. It really is quite something to witness this movie simply take a break from itself in the middle of the second act just to play three music video montages in a row and then get right back to the action that brought the characters there.

Speaking of action, this is some of the most unique and kinetic the DC Extended Universe has ever had. Given the premise that most of the fighting in Aquaman is based around one-on-one trident warfare and hand-to-hand combat, what of the action isn’t grandiose superpower grandstanding has to be very up close and personal bow staff style fight choreography, and the way it plays out is a beautiful thing to see. It’s wonderfully edited during the up close and personal stuff, and some of the tracking shots during the larger battles between civilizations are truly some of the best in DC’s pantheon. I suppose if there were any negatives to the action sequences, it would likely be that most of them start the same way, with the characters getting quiet and then an explosion rocking them back to preparedness, which wouldn’t be a problem except that it occurs four or five times throughout the film, thus costing each subsequent surprise attack its effectiveness by making it too much of a habit.

But enough about the action and visually stimulating underwater worlds; how are the characters? A film can have all the spectacle in the world, but without proper character, it’s going to flounder. The characters in Aquaman? They’re…fine. Truth be told, anyone who wasn’t already on board with Jason Momoa’s bro culture rendition of the title character isn’t necessarily going to be won over by his mostly stilted but badass-in-action-scenes performance here, but they do tone down a lot of his more annoying quirks he was introduced with in Justice League, and that should count for something. Momoa is a physically dominant force as Arthur Curry, but whether it was some of the line he was given or because maybe he’s just not been with the right directors yet, his performance here really only reaches dynamic screen presence levels; there’s not a lot of room for nuance in his acting, and while that may be for the best given the kind of performer he is, it does hurt the film a bit overall.

Showing up again as well for round two is Amber Heard as Princess Mera, who more than fits the part as the woman trying to get the reluctant hero to do the hero’s arc because it’s important for him to know he can do it on his own (and she easily has the best costume design in the entire thing), but part of her arc has to do with her relationship to Arthur, and it gets a little confusing because this had supposedly already been covered in Justice League. She does really well for what she’s given to work with, but unfortunately Momoa just doesn’t give off a lot. Also here is veteran Wan-man Patrick Wilson, turning yet another leaf in the journey of acting circles around everyone even with a somewhat messy script to work with. As King Orm, he’s act once fiercely commanding and brilliantly emotive, but he never takes his performance so far as to overshadow Arthur’s main narrative. Willem Dafoe is in…something, but it’s not Aquaman. Seeing him show up as Valko is a real treat to watch, but largely because he’s such an interesting performer, it’s almost like he’s brought back his Norman Osbourne character to teach Jason Momoa how to swim. I’m sure the character probably matters more in the comics, but here, he just feels unnecessary, despite the joy just seeing Willem Dafoe on screen brings.

The unsung hero of this movie, though, at least in terms of performance, is unquestionably Nicole Kidman, who runs the emotional gambit from motherly chiding/affection to kick-ass warrior queen to awestruck-but-terrified literal fish-out-of-water in just her first fifteen minutes of screen time so smoothly and so expertly you’d think she might actually pull an Oscar nomination out of this. She really is having a great year performance-wise between this, Big Little Lies, Boy Erased, and the upcoming Destroyer, and it’s really been quite something to see her come back mid-50’s and show up everyone on any screen she shares by her sheer level of talents and commitment to character. In fact, her part in this movie might not just be the most compelling of the character turns, but also of the plot threads – it actually moved me, and cut right to the heart.

Some negatives about the film (besides what I’ve mentioned already) would include fairly subpar editing and lack of narrative focus; it’s not exactly bad most of the time right up until the second act where the music video montages come in and feel incredibly out of place in this already two and a half hour long movie (that you absolutely do feel the length of during the transition to act three), but it is somewhat off-putting, especially when certain scenes seem to either just start right in the middle of what was probably a longer take, or they’re just strangely placed as if they’re out of order and the editor just forgot about it. It kind of seems like part of the time, it doesn’t know what it wants to be about, and this is particularly felt during the scenes with Black Manta, who (while cool) doesn’t seem like he really was necessary to include this time around. The sound design also sometimes makes things difficult to hear since a lot of it takes place underwater, and while I certainly understand the need to communicate that, it might have been better left to the visuals to communicate, as the effects sometimes blurs certain lines and entire character monologues get lost. In addition, some of the visual effects (while there are a lot that are incredible to see) are actually pretty subpar, particularly wherein green screen is used to give location background to actors that are clearly acting against nothing during a beach training scene where most of the close up shots are straight on rather than from the side or done with two people in frame.

Still, despite its somewhat obvious flaws, Aquaman is the sort of rock and roll good-time superhero movie 10-year-old me would have eaten up. It’s cheesier than a white man’s casserole and pulpier than Tarantino’s back catalogue, but its sheer commitment to the dumb fun of it all really makes it a charming wave to ride. The visuals and costume design are all (mostly) immaculate, and the overlong runtime, while noticeable, doesn’t overshadow the film’s fair share of crowd-cheer moments so cool you wanna jump out of your seat. It may be quite bizarre even for DC, but their innate faith in James Wan’s filmmaking prowess and risk-taking shows they’re taking a few steps (or swims) in the right direction.

I’m giving “Aquaman” a 7.8/10

#Aquaman #Movie Review #The Friendly Film Fan #Jason Momoa #Amber Heard #Willem Dafoe #Patrick Wilson #Dolph Lundgren #DC #DC Comic #Warner Bros #Warner Brothers #Film #Movie #Review #DCEU #DC Extended Universe

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resetmypatientviolence · 6 years

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Ménage à Trois (Drake x MC x Liam) [NSFW Alphabet]

It’s still Thirsty Thursday here, but it might be Frisky Friday for some of you... but here, at least... is the Drake x Jaela x Liam NSFW Alphabet. I’m warning you now: this is pure FILTH and it you don’t have nsfw or long post blocked and don’t wish to see this, please do so. Jaela’s just living the best life in this world, y’all.

Pairing: Drake x Jaela x Liam / Drake x Liam (yep, I went there)

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Language; Pure fucking smut after the cut; most turned into mini-drabbles, but I don’t think you’ll mind.

Word Count: ... 5, 539. This is why it’s taken so damn long. Settle in.

** Adding tagging @boneandfur and @decisso for TRR Appreciation week since the tags are being wonky!

A= Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

She’d never tell either of them, but Liam’s definitely the better cuddler and draws a bath for her, even if it’s 2am and they’re just ready to pass out in each others arms. Though, there’s something about Drake and the way he whispers in her ear the moments after he comes that leaves her breathless, craving for more, even if he falls asleep shortly after, Jaela curled against his side after cleaning up.

Though… they can all agree they love the laughter after a ménage à trois, Drake and Liam’s hands resting on her body between them, caressing her, even after the intense lovemaking, both spoiling her, until they fall asleep, all tangled up.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Liam and Drake both love their dicks—both because of that face Jaela makes when she comes, and she can say the same for them. “How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

“Because,” Liam says, tilting her chin up, smirking and wiping her lips with his thumb while Drake’s nails drag along her back, Jaela shuddering as he pounds into her. “You learned how to share.”

To say that she didn’t have any idea of what would happen the first time they all slept together would be a lie. She knew she’d be treated like a goddess, and that she was. Drake loves her ass, and it all started after one night of too much whiskey and wine, Jaela on Drake’s lap, rough hands squeezing it, trailing soft kisses on his second favorite part of her, her neck. Something about how she throws her head back when she laughs, or when him… or Liam… kiss her there.

Liam wasn’t exactly jealous, watching Drake and Jaela on the chair next to the bonfire, the light bouncing off the Washington woods—and their bodies—perfectly. But… he downed the last of his whiskey. Her tits looks amazing in that shirt, one button undone enough to flash that black lacy bra he loved, too. And he was drunk. So…, why shouldn’t he give it a shot? Turns out, the moment he touched her chest, fingers grazing over her stiff nipple, that was enough for her to pull him into a kiss—only for a moment—before looking between the two of them, all three of their eyes alight with something… new.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…)

Coming in their mouth when they eat her out, or when she rides their face, is her absolute favorite way to come. There’s so much power in how Drake or Liam hold her closer, murmuring how great she tastes, tasting herself on their tongue shortly after.

The boys, of course, have a favorite place to cum—and then their seconds. Naturally, coming in her is preferable, condom until they all aptly handled the matter of birth control—especially after that one time—but they both have their second favorites, in case they can’t, at least, not at first. Liam loves coming on her tits, and Drake in her mouth, both always locking eyes with her when they do.

But she fucking loves it when they come at nearly the same time, in or on her. And Drake and Liam do too.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Maybe that first threesome—oh god she still gets warm thinking about it—wasn’t exactly spontaneous. “Abdi… can I tell you something?” he whispers, finger tracing circles on her arm, naked bodies intertwined on their bed.

“Of course,” Jaela replies, smiling up at him, pushing aside hair from his forehead. Outside, there’s a distant howl, moonlight peeking through the tall pines. He shifts, taking a deep breath. Jaela props herself up, eyebrows furrowing. “You know you can tell me anything, Drake. Remember, that’s one of our rules: honesty.”

He nods, clicking his tongue. “Well… okay. I… I might have gotten off to hearing you and Liam… more than once.” A beat. “And it took so much willpower not join you two.”

Her eyes widen—but only for a moment, lips curling into a grin. “You know… I wouldn’t have minded.” Drake nearly sputters, pulling her back to him.

“What?!”

Jaela nods, hand trailing down his chest. Like her and Liam haven’t thought it? Like she hasn’t wanted it since well… since they got used to this? “Get a little whiskey into Liam, and get him to watch us, and I can bet we’ll make that happen. Tomorrow?” Drake can only nod, kissing her and rolling on top of her in response, ready for round two.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Being a former Prince and King had its perks, and thus, Liam extremely experienced with women. Drake is too, reaping more than just a place to live, by being the Prince’s best friend. They competed for and shared women—separately—until Jaela came around, stealing their hearts and bodies with just a look. And they make sure she knows all of their tricks… yet still manage to have something up their sleeve.

Jaela too, had her fair share of men. Some hookups, and a handful of relationships that never went anywhere in New York. Though, being poly was a new thing for her, even though Drake and Liam eased her into it. Hell, threesomes were new for her and not for them… though, Drake and Liam laughed that of the threesomes they had, it was surprising that they weren’t involved in one together back in Cordonia… and both wondered why they hadn’t before, gazes lingering on each the first time they touched.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

She loves riding them, Liam or Drake holding her close and whispering sweet—or dirty as all hell--- nothings into her ear. But god she loves it when they take control and push her against a wall, bend her over, or just pin her down, sometimes looking up at both of them, grinning until one kisses her and the other lowers his mouth to her body, fire kisses heading down to her hips, legs on their shoulders before he dives in.

Liam, surprise surprise, loves being dominant with any position that allows him the control, controlling Jaela or Drake’s pleasure—in a sense, he loses all control when he comes, hips meeting theirs, lips on each others names but yet, he feels like the King he was, seeing how they writhe under his touch. Though, he doesn’t mind being the one under their control, their spell, really, but it has its time and place.

“Jaela, my Queen, I love you…”

“Hmm… but you’re no King…” She giggles, nipping his ear, rolling her hips, Liam gripping them tight, eyes flashing, more heat pooling in her stomach. Oh, that look. How far could she go? “Just a commo—” And in a flash, Liam pins her on the bed, holding her wrists time.

“I think I should tie you up for such blasphemy.”

“Whatever punishment fits the bill… my King.”

Drake, on the other hand, doesn’t mind being submissive to Jaela or Liam’s whims (course, they’re left with plenty of love marks when he’s in control) and loves looking into her eyes and holding Jaela close, whether if she’s on top or not. It’s also fucking hot looking into Liam’s eyes, too, when they three of them fuck, one behind Jaela and the other in front. Or, well, when she’s away and he and Liam are both a little drunk, or not, there’s something about getting lost in his eyes, too.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

After everything they’ve been through, and while there’s so much laughter and joy after they have sex, all three are serious in bed. There’s some goofiness, like the first threesome, all three getting used to each others motions as one, but the order of goofiness—or seriousness, goes as this, is determined around breakfast one snowy morning after a night of lovemaking, first her and Liam… but Drake joined in when he got home from work.

“I can’t believe you laughed when I nearly tripped trying to get to you, Abdi.” Jaela snickers, buttering her toast. It was a sight, Drake barely able to contain himself once he came in the room, Liam’s nod a signal for him to join—if the Statue of Liberty key chain turned outward on their door wasn’t signal enough—almost falling out of his pants.

“So? It was funny!”

“To be fair, Jaela,” Liam says, shaking his protein shake, eyebrow raised. “We were, moments before, quite serious—you had tears, dear.” Jaela rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… okay, I like to laugh here and there, you sometimes, do, Liam, and Drake…” Jaela and Liam both set their sights on him and he flushes, shifting in the chair.

“Uh…”

“Goes without saying, you serious marshmallow,” Jaela snickers, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Liam’s well-groomed if not nearly bare, fucking loving feeling all of Jaela or how her mouth feels on him. Drake’s groomed, but sometimes if he’s busy, he’ll forget and be a natural, not that Jaela—or Liam—minds either way. They just love him for him. Jaela mixes it up, honestly, because she busy too but their faces when she is bare always makes her night—and always means she’s about to get no sleep, whether with one or both.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Even in the roughest of nights, there’s always an element of intimacy that starts in the living room—or out in the woods, or well, anywhere really. The small touches, the kisses that begin at the mouth and wander without a hurry…. The in the moment, holding each other tight no matter what, making the other feel loved.

Jaela, once more, wouldn’t say this to the other, but Drake has a certain form of intimacy that takes her breath away, how he looks at her. Was it because she was gone with Liam, vanished without a trace, until she contacted him? Or something else? Thinking he’s second best, even when, finally, they’re both equal in her eyes?

That’s not to say Liam isn’t intimate, god he is, by the way he moves and takes control. How he caresses a jaw as he thrusts from behind, fingers winding into hair and pulling—but never with enough force to hurt. Just enough to remind them who’s is in charge.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Drake was ashamed, at first, when he did get off to Liam and Jaela’s sounds of lovemaking. Not his fault the first he listened in, they nearly knocked over a chair in the kitchen before retreating to their room and he had to investigate and… well, it was hot, hearing the woman he shares making those sounds.

As much as Liam loves being teased by Jaela, he (or Drake, of course, one of them, ideally) just wants to be the one making her feel like that. Not that he doesn’t mind catching her, pulling her into a kiss, kissing her fingers, or anything but….

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Jaela didn’t call him King Kinky for nothing, when they were in Cordonia. Or out of it, for that matter. Liam and Jaela racked up quite a few kinks: public and outdoor sex for starters, then temperature roleplaying, light bondage… to name a few. Drake never told them that it hurt him, before they found the happy balance they needed, to see the ropes and ties still around their bedposts. Part of the sacrifice, he guessed.

Little did he know he’d be happy to see those months later, and even happier to be tied up with them. First, Jaela taking control—before that breath of temptation spilling over into reality. “Fuck, Jaela—”

“Did I say you could talk?” She purrs, sliding a finger across his lips, pupils dilated as she rides him, nails digging into his chest. Drake gulps and shakes his head, hickies on his neck. She smirks, rising off of him. He opens his mouth in protest, straining against the silk tie, but is silenced, Jaela moving and riding his face, her pussy tasting so fucking good. “That’s better,” she says, gripping his hair and shutting her eyes.

Of course, the best thrill for Liam comes when he has control of them both, both submitting to him and his whims. He’s big into edging, watching them soar to the highest of highs—but not getting that release until he lets them, whether from him or with each other, so long as he can see when he’s dominate. Sometimes, they’re tied next to each other, sneaking glances, fingertips brushing as he kisses up Jaela’s body, but not leaving Drake without something to moan about, both begging for more.

Though, working with Drake at the most intimate level… that was a thrill all on its own, both working to deny, but only to bring Jaela the greatest of pleasures. “Please, Drake—”

“Drake,” Liam says, and Drake looks up from his assigned task: eating her out. Liam squeezes her breasts, kissing her neck. “Remember what I told her about begging?” He nods, removing his mouth, standing up but letting his hand fall between her thighs.

Jaela throws her head back in frustration, groaning. “But—”

Liam tightens the silk around her wrists behind her back and pinches a nipple, eyes locking with Drake, both dark with desire, smirks on their lips. Drake steps back from the edge of the bed. “No buts. Knees, now.”

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Liam and Jaela? Oh god, anywhere and everywhere, really. He can’t pick a favorite, because the high of the thrill—even if they’re in the bed—blocks out everything but his and her pleasure, bodies locked together, smiles on their lips and each other. That’s all that matters. Though, in Miami with her, it was fucking hot to do it on their balcony, ocean spread out all before them, the people dots below.

Drake’s a simply guy, and he just loves picking Jaela up, legs straddled around him, and carrying her right to the bed to make love to her, pressing her against the mattress, sheets tangled up between them. Though, outside has a special place in his heart, hands over hers as she braced against the tree, pine and spring and dirt and her scent filling his nostrils and sending him into overdrive, birds flying away from the noise.

Drake and Liam are weak in the knees for their shower, but they think Jaela doesn’t know. She got off work early, letting down her hair, ready for a shower. “Drake? Liam?” she called, rubbing her eyes. The house was quiet, no surprise at this time of night (and god, she’d kill them if they let the kids stay up late again), except for the shower. Liam’s bed was empty, and so was Drake’s. She paused, glancing around the hallway. Not like their house was small, nor was it big… but where the hell were they?

She approached the master bath—maybe one was taking one in the guest bathroom, too? Hand on the handle, she paused, as new sound breaking through the sound of water. Moans. Loud ones, too. Then, a tumbling of a shampoo bottle—followed by Drake’s and Liam’s all too familiar, groans when they came. Jaela smirked, eyebrows raised. So that’s how come her bottles were always out of order.

When together? Well, that is the bed, much to Drake’s delight. There’s something private and personal and complicated—in all the right ways—when they have a threesome and having it be anywhere else but their home seems… wrong. The townspeople never questioned the two rings on Jaela’s hands, assuming one was a family heirloom (which it was, in a way, from Drake’s grandmother) but bringing their ménage à trois outside of their bedroom, or home, would be… wrong, an unspoken agreement between them the moment Drake kissed her lips and Liam pulled down her jeans, trailing his hands up to slide off her panties before she fell onto hers and Liam’s—no, their, bed.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, the better question is what doesn’t get them going.

No, seriously.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The sky’s the limit, and they’ll indulge each others fantasies either one on one, or if they all agree to it, but they have a few NO’s: sadomasochism, anything that draws blood, whipping, and jealously. That’s the biggest one: no jealously. If those feelings arise… then they work it out, however they can.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Jaela’s a spoiled woman. And she can’t wipe the smirk off of her face at the stupid PTO meetings, thinking that a half hour before Liam went down on her right after she put the brownies into tubberware… and it was her night with Drake tonight. “Jaela, what’s your recipe for the brownies again?”

“Oh uh… you know, the usual things?”

And she’s pulled out of her head again, back to the politics of school and drama and avoiding the pointed looks of too many Mary-Sue’s in this small town thinking it was a little odd that Drake was living with them a single man… and that one of her three definitely has his nose, but she never addressed that.

As for Jaela, well, she’s more than willing to drop to her knees at anytime, but they always beat her out for the gift of receiving. Drake, generally, prefers to give and just wants to bury his cock in her, usually, even if he does love coming in her mouth…. Liam is more of a giver, liking to wake her up in the morning with his head between her thighs, but he fucking loves her blowjobs. Liam and Jaela both find it sexy when he’s commanding, hand gripping the back of her hair while she takes all of him in, looking up and never breaking eye contact until he comes, Jaela smirking as his eyes flutter, head rolling back, and letting out that moan she loves so much.

Commanding Liam is gone and replaced with the tender one, asking if that was too much. Jaela wipes her lips and he shudders, holding her close. “It’s never too much, Liam,” she whispers. “I love it,” she pauses, tracing his jaw, eyes brightening. “Though… I would like to try something… if Drake agrees.”

Liam raises his eyebrow, matching her expression. “Pray tell, love.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

They’ve gotten their times nailed down to an art form, really. Working around the kid’s schedules is one thing, combined with their different work schedules, but they’re masters of knowing how long things are going to take, depending, of course.

Public is always quick, even if Liam wants it to go on longer. Drake can stay out in the woods for an hour with Jaela. Jaela pretends to not notice their long, ahem, separate showers. But the threesomes? Well, that’s setting up the candles, and exploring each others bodies with care, salt and sweat and heat beneath their lips, not matter how rough it is.

“There’s always times to savor you, love,” Liam says, tracing lines down her curves on one side, Drake on the other, kissing her neck. She needs to get to the fucking bake sale, she didn’t mind playing betty homemaker to keep gossip away, but goddamn, how could she leave them?

“The bake sale though?”

Drake chuckles, turning her cheek, looking deep into her eyes, the intensity from all those years ago still there, even with a few fine wrinkles. Liam’s hand, fingers nimble, run down her body and settle on her clit, rubbing circles, Drake keeping her face turned to him. He takes her lower lip between his teeth, and she shudders in pleasure. “Fuck the bake sale,” he whispers. “Fuck me instead.”

But Liam inserts two fingers into her, her answer lost on Drake’s tongue.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Jaela’s a fan of quickies, and Drake has to roll his eyes when Liam and Jaela disappear in public for ten minutes at a time. “You know,” he hisses when they sit back down in the theatre seat, her hair disheveled. He smooth down a side, smirking, despite his tone. “This isn’t a ball where you can sneak into the closet and pretend your guards don’t notice.”

But Jaela grips Liam’s hand tight, eyes lighting up with the screen at the memory of Liam pressing her against the stall and fucking her senseless, holding her up, muffling their sounds with their lips on each other, fast and hurried. Somebody coughed when they left the stall next to them, but they didn’t care. “The women’s bathroom worked quite well,” she whispers, sliding another hand on Drake’s thigh, squeezing his shaft through the jeans. Liam snickers as Drake shifts, grasping hers, locking eyes. “Maybe next time we can try it?”

Drake gulps, but she sees the blush and flash of desire in the movie light. And indeed, that stall again proved useful, only this time Drake’s hands cupped her breasts through her shirt as he took her from behind, teeth nipping her ear. Another cough, too.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Of fucking course. Jaela thinks fucking in the woods is risky enough, always convinced a bear is going to come out—but her and Drake have done nothing more than scare a few deer and birds. But, anything outside of their NO’s has been tried, thought of, a regular feature, or is on the list of things to do.

Jaela’s current want to do risk?

Fuck at that damn Mary’s house. She’s the one that look at her like she’s a slut when Drake comes around to events—like his child’s soccer game, supporting his and Liam’s—like any father would do. She’s also the one that commented one child looked so peculiar from the others. She should have slapped her there, but instead…

“I got it!” she says grinning between the two. “Now, I don’t care who, but she has this parent-meeting or whatever coming up next month. One of you are coming with me—” They both pale. “And you’re going to fuck me senseless on her newly renovated bathroom counter she won’t shut up about.” Liam’s eyebrows perk up, and Drake’s do too, but she senses his hesitance. She knows him too well.

Jaela approaches and Drake leans back on the couch before she straddles his waist, pressing into him. Drake grits his teeth. “Okay… I’m listening….”

“And I really don’t care if she hears. She can’t insult our child—our children, our life—without facing the consequences. So, anybody in?”

A month later, Drake holds her close, both panting, the gleaming light from the newly renovated bathroom also too much, but all Jaela can focus on is his thrusts, slow and drawn out, hand on the glass. Her nails dig into his back, trying to holding in a cry—but letting out the moan, pulsing as the orgasm spreads throughout her shaking body.

Oh, it’s worth the looks.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

“Fucking A Liam, she’s already came twice from you, I think she’ll sleep just fine tonight…” Drake groans, burying his head in the pillow. He just wants sleep and him and Jaela are still going at it, though, she looks tired too. Drake glances at the clock—it’s almost four and he has work at eight. He could have gone to his room… but something about curling up next to them after a night like tonight was worth the sleepless nights.

“Just a… god, Jaela,” he says as he comes, kissing Jaela before collapsing next to Drake, Jaela chuckling to herself, looking at the two perfect men in her life, skin on skin. Her hand floats over Liam’s body, and he pulls her close, chin on her head. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ditto,” Drake says, and then drifts off. Jaela takes in Liam’s scent, Drake’s not far behind. Oh, how she’d never get tired of nights like these.

Jaela whispers against his chest, “I’m so happy,” before she falls asleep, only to be waken by Drake getting up for work, Liam pulling him close for a moment before Drake comes to her, kissing her cheek, then shoulder goodbye.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Drake doesn’t own any, he doesn’t care for them. He’d much rather fuck them with him and only him, taking pleasure that only he can make them feel.

Liam used to share the same sentiments as Drake, until Jaela introduced him to first her vibrator, and how fucking sexy it was when she used it on herself as she gave him head. Like, hell. “Fuck, Jaela… that’s hot.” She stops for a moment, lips against the tip of his cock, the breeze of the Atlantic blowing across their faces, high on their balcony, happy to have found a place where they could finally relax and enjoy their escape.

“I thought you told me you were the only one to make my cum from now on?” Liam smirks, dragging a finger down her lips, parting them again.

“We’ve only begun the night, my Queen. Now, continue.”

So, he has a small collection that only him and Jaela use, tucked away, Drake never getting curious as to what goes on those nights, honestly.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jaela thought she teased bad in Cordonia, separately drawing them in and out with a flick of her wrist or the longing glance out of the corner of her eye.

Oh, how she proved them—and herself—wrong the moment her and Drake finally caved and she had not one, but two, pairs eyes filled with lust on her when she bent over, making sure they saw the red thong. It was something about an audience that upped her teasing game, just waiting till one of them would cave—thought, it was the best when Drake and Liam would nod, then end the game with one at each set of lips.

Drake doesn’t mind teasing, he liked it more in Cordonia, if he was being honest. Something about pretending to merely be just their friend in Washington made it hard to grab her ass or whisper in her ear everything he’d like to do to her in the grocery story. He didn’t want to attention of the nosey locals, nor did he want their kids to think that it was wrong, what they were doing. So, he lets Abdi to the teasing (except when they’re in bed together, Drake confessing everything he wants to do with her, drawing each stroke, lick, suck, or bite out until she’s begging to come over and over).

If Jaela plays hard, so does Liam. Touching her, whispering in her ear, promising all the positions they can do in a timespan of a PTO meeting, in the closet… yet, only leaving her wet and him hard, Jaela tearing off his clothes—and she literally made a tear once—the moment they get home, teasing done and the real game beginning.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

There was a reason why Drake couldn’t help but get off to Liam and Jaela, you know. Between their moaning and dirty talk, could anybody blame him, really?

Drake, however, is pretty quiet, preferring to listen to how he makes them feel over his own voice, contained within his throat and only being brought out here and there—sending chills through Jaela and Liam when he does make loud, guttural sounds because that usually means they’re in the middle of something intense, special, and only between them.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Jalea bites her lip, leaning back against the pillows, arms propping herself up. Drake and Liam stare at each other, and the tension—the nerves—in the room twists her stomach, just watching them, one hand on her and the other on each others arms. She can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the sheer fact that this might be a turning point… for everything… with them.

They had three threesomes before tonight, both lavishing her with attention, sure their hands touching each other on her body, but never a kiss, no touching of each other, focusing on her, and what kinds of sounds she made under their joint effort.

Oh, but tonight… tonight was different. Like she didn’t notice the looks they shared in the heat of the moment—or hell, even back in Cordonia. “You can kiss,” she said and they snapped their attention to her… before going back to each other. Liam’s hand slide down Drake’s side and he shivered, glancing between Liam and Jaela, breathing quick.

“I…”

“Please,” Jaela says, sitting up and removing their hands. “Can’t you feel it? Haven’t you felt it?” She gets on her knees, and they still don’t look at her, Drake touching Liam’s cheek with a gentleness she only saw reserved for herself.

“You won’t be…?” Breathes Liam, now gripping Drake’s neck, their faces closer. Her hearts swells. What else could she feel but utter love for these men… and if they wanted to explore, who was she stop them? They all loved each other with everything they had.

Shaking her head, Jaela takes both of their dicks in each hand, both taking an intake of breath. Still, they stared, even as she began to pump, eyeing them each. “Never. I love you both. You love each other… why not… see what happens? We are sleeping together as one now. What’s holding you ba—”

And finally, fucking finally, they kiss, Jaela not knowing who’s lips touched the others first, Liam’s hands in Drake’s hair and Drake’s around his back. Jaela, quietly sat back and watched the show, letting their desperate, clinging moment come to fruition—until it turned to her, bringing her in center stage once more.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Drake, above average (around 6 ½) and thick, not too much… but enough to make Jaela feel so fucking full that she could cry—and sometimes, she does, from the pleasure. “Abdi, Abdi—are you okay?”

“Just hormonal… and because you feel so good. Don’t stop, please.”

Liam’s slightly bigger, around 7 and thinner, in the slightest. Honestly, Jaela doesn’t care—nor do either of the men—because the competition is over and sometimes, they get to fuck her at the same time—ass and pussy—and Jaela’s convinced she’ll never walk straight again,

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Liam’s higher than both of them, Jaela’s higher than Drake’s, and Drake’s the least of the three—what? He likes cuddling, too—but all are high, passion still running high from their life in Cordonia. Life doesn’t always allow for sex as much as Liam wants, but goddamn if he doesn’t fuck one or both of them four times a week at the least.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pillowtalking is fine, and Drake and Jaela like it to some extent, though they tend to fall asleep quickly or have sex one more time before they pass out, but Liam is the true king of pillowtalking after sex. To a fault, too.

Legs all tangled together, cool summer air blowing in through the window, drying their sweat and cooling warm, flush bodies, in a heap, light kisses and touches being exchanged between all three, there’s no difference, no matter, with the love they all have, her two rings sparkling in the moonlight. The kisses slow... conversation ebbs… except for Liam, still talking. Drake and Jaela don’t even know anymore.

“Liam…” Drake mumbles, head buried in Jaela’s shoulder.

“Liam…” Jaela follows, taking his chin and turning it to her, Jaela and Drake’s brown eyes focused on his. He stops, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah? I mean, did you hear about—”

“We need—” Jaela starts, but Drake interjects.

“We need some fucking sleep.”

Liam’s looks shocked, but then chuckles, arm lying across Jaela and hand resting on Drake. Maybe he did talk too much, but to be fair, sex on nights like tonight energized him. The world, full of possibility in the little corner of the world they found to be as one. What could he say? It was perfect. Just so perfect, their bodies entwined like it was always meant to be.

Note: Yep, poly AU Drake x Jaela x Liam are definitely going to be making a proper appearance at some point in time. Hope you enjoyed this little AU I’m setting up for them. Bonus points if you can put the backstory piece together.

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eng-hypnosismic · 6 years

Text

[Eng translation of Fling Posse Drama Track 1]

youtube

Ramuda: [humming while walking]

Girl 1: Ramuda-chan! Play with me again, okay~?

Ramuda: Haha, I’ll ask you out again~!

Girl 2: Aw, but if you don’t play with me, I’ll get sulky...

Ramuda: Onee-san, if you pout, I might cry...waaah!

Woman: Ramuda-kun! That last outing was absolutely the best!

Ramuda: I had fun, too! ☆ Let’s have lunch again, okay, Onee-san?

[Girls screaming]

Ramuda: Ahahaha! ♡ I’m kinda busy, so I’ll see you all later!

[Ramuda walking]

Ramuda: Aaand...I’m here! Where could he be...oh! Found him, found him!

[Ramuda runs towards someone]

Gentaro: Ah… is there something I can help you with?

Ramuda: Nice to meet you! I’m Amemura Ramuda! You’re the novelist Yumeno Gentaro-sensei, right?

Gentaro: Yumamo Gentalo(1)…? My name is not that weird. Perhaps you have the wrong person?

Ramuda: [Points at the author’s photo in a book] Hehe! There’s the author’s photo right here! You can’t fool me~! ☆

Gentaro: Aah, that… Yumeno Gentaro-sensei is a friend of mine(2), and he asked me to take the author’s photo in his place. It can’t be helped.

Ramuda: A liar like the rumors say, huh? But that’s a no-no! A big big no-no! I can see right through you, you know.

Gentaro: Oh? And what is it that you see? Please, do enlighten me.

Ramuda: [Whips out his mic] Tadaa! ☆ With this Hypnosis Mic, I’ll uncover the truth of your lyrics, Gentaro-sensei! You might already know this, but the sound from this mic can disturb your mind, so you won’t be able to lie!

Gentaro: [Sighs] I got it, I got it. Everything I told you before was a lie. I am Yumeno Gentaro, in the flesh. So? What does the ex-Dirty Dawg member - easy R - want from me?

Ramuda: Form a team with me!

Gentaro: ... Excuse me?

Ramuda: Let’s make this world more interesting!

Gentaro: There are so many things I want to ask but, first, why me?

Ramuda: Eh? It’s obvious isn’t it, Yumeno-sensei…? Ah, it’s okay if I call you “Gentaro”, right? Right?

Gentaro: Do as you want.

Ramuda: Because Gentaro is one of the two people I find the most interesting in all of Shibuya Division!

Gentaro: In what way am I interesting?

Ramuda: Isn’t it interesting for a person to keep telling lies for no reason?

Gentaro: [Laughs] Most of the words coming out of my mouth are lies, you know? You can’t trust such a lowly man so -　

Ramuda: But! Behind those lies, there are feelings out of sympathy, aren’t there? After all, you’re doing it for the sake of your sick friend.

Gentaro: [Pauses] What are you talking about?

Ramuda: [Giggles] It’s useless to lie to me. My friend in the Ikebukuro Division runs a general odd-job service. So I asked him to dig up all kinds of information on you. Your friend has an intractable disease and can’t leave the hospital, but you want him to smile even if only a little. Therefore you always come up with funny stories to tell him, to the point that you became a novelist... you’re amazing! Other people lie just to make things up you know? Then it’s not a lie, that’s thoughtfulness! Also, it seems like all of your novels are happy stories, but I somehow feel that there’s a sense of loneliness. And that is to say, you think that this world is boring, isn’t it? That’s why I’ll say it again. Let’s make this world more interesting, yeah?

Gentaro: Can I think about it for a bit?

Ramuda: [Laughs] After you’ve decided, come to the address written on this name card, okay?

[Ramuda walks away]

----

Dice: [Growling] P-Please, this is my last chance, if I don’t get a seven here, then I will be homeless!

Ramuda: Arisugawa Dice-kun, found you~!! [Jumps on Dice]

Dice: Uwa-

[Machine starts rolling]

[“You lost” sound]

Dice: [Screams] You! What have you done?

Ramuda: [Laughs] Sorry, sorry, more importantly, listen to what I have to tell you!

Dice: “More importantly” you say?! My whole month of living was depending on this last chance!! And YOU just pressed it and lost it and that’s what have to say? What the hell!?

Ramuda: I want Arisuagawa-kun to… Can I call you “Dice”? Can I? Yeah!! I want you to join my team!

Dice: You’ve gotta be fucking with me

Ramuda: Oh, thank you! You’ll listen to my request, right?

Dice: Listen to what others are saying!!

--------

[Dice and Ramuda walking]

Dice: Tch, don’t follow me...

Ramuda: Hey, hey… Dice why are we going around the park in circles?

Dice: Right from the start you weren’t listening to one thing I said… by the way you made me miss my last chance and lose all I had left.

Ramuda: I see! I see…! I did bad, hm? Silly, silly, silly me! ☆

Dice: You don’t sound like you’re sorry at all!

Ramuda: Hey, will you team up with me?

Dice: [Sighs] Why would a famous MC like you want to team up with a scum like me?

Ramuda: Huh? Are you actually worrying about me, that’s why you don’t want to join?

Dice: Dumbass, that’s not it. From the start I didn’t really care about rap battles, on the other hand, I just want to gamble whenever I can. It’s the best.

Ramuda: [Laughs] Just like I heard~

Dice: Huh? What exactly do you know about me?

Ramuda: Let’s see… I know that not long ago, in a certain match, you put your life on the table as a bet for something.

Dice: [scoffs] A former Dirty Dawg member would totally know underground infos like this.

Ramuda: Well, I only got this information thanks to a friend from the Ikebukuro Division.

Dice: Well, it doesn’t matter either way. Wherever you got that info from, I don’t give. A. Flying. Fuck.

Ramuda: [laughs] True, true! Where I got the info from doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I know it, right?

Dice: [drags a smoke] If you understand then give up already.

Ramuda: But, you got one thing wrong in what you just said.

Dice: [smokes] Wrong? What did I get wrong?

Ramuda: “I don’t really care about rap battles”. That’s a lie, isn’t it? That’s because the thing you bet your life for, was a hypnosis mic.

Dice: [smokes] [Throws cigarette and steps on it] It’s not really a lie. I’ve heard that using that mic in a rap battle gives you an unbelievable sense of thrill and excitement.

Ramuda: Then? Have you ever tried it?

Dice: Yeah, but… Neither the thrill nor the excitement ever came to me. That’s why “it doesn’t interest me” isn’t a lie.

Ramuda: I see, I see, then why don’t you try having a rap battle with me?

Dice: You’re such a pain in the ass.

Ramuda: Huh? I thought you were in it for the thrills and chills… or are you all bark and no bite, is that it?

Dice: Fine, then, challenge accepted. I’ll make you eat your words.

Ramuda: Then it’s decided. [Mic on sfx] Dice, you can go first.

Dice:Ok then, I won’t hold back.

[Dice’s rap]

It's now or never, it's good luck or bad luck Who's going to win this battle? The king or the joker? Get lost, victory is under my eyes I'm betting it all on this battle, we're reaching the climax.

Ramuda: [groans, tries to laugh] Amazing… I can’t remember the last time I was this affected(3) after just one turn. I knew I had my eyes on the prize!

[Dice’s rap continues]

The goddess of victory is on my side The tension in the air is the best energy Luck is everything, now bet, bet. With this battle how would it turn out even or odd?

[Dice’s rap ends]

Dice: So that’s an ex-Dirty Dawg for you… anyone I’ve battled up until now would have been instakilled.

Ramuda: That’s ‘cuz they were all normies! I get it, though, with lyrics like that. But too bad for you! I’m not your average person.

[Ramuda’s rap]

Haha you're awesome after all I know why you took the mic now But I'm gonna go all out, ok? Kill two birds with one stone look at the fake flow and strong motion

[Dice grunts and falls to the floor]

It's the best it's the best This is a first for me, tensions are to the roof With the circumstances right now I’m dominating you can feel the sensation of defeat I got a feeling that’s just like my last divination Join me In this mic show

[Ramuda’s rap end]

Ramuda: Wow! You’re amazing Dice, normally people can’t stand up so quickly after hearing my lyrics. Guess you’re no normie yourself, huh?

Dice: [laughs] This is just getting interesting, huh? Right now, I finally feel that I am living a life.

Ramuda: [laughs] Let’s not stop till one of us drop.

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

Ramuda: You already felt the thrill and excitement to your heart’s content, right?

Dice: Ah… it’s just as bad as gambling… it’s the best.

Ramuda: If you join my team then there will be lots of battles like this. That’s why, let’s form a team together!

[Takes dice out of his pocket]

Ramuda: Why did you just pull out a dice?

Dice: I always do this whenever I have to make an important decision. There’s a god in this dice. Even, I’m in; odd, I’m out.

Ramuda: Got it!

Dice: Let’s go! [throws dice] Odd, huh… well, it’s a shame, but it looks like we’re done he —

[Ramuda takes the dice and fixes it]

Ramuda: Yaaay! It’s even!! So you’re now a member of my team ♡

Dice: H-H-H-Hold up, just now, you totally touched the dice, didn’t you?

Ramuda: No good?

Dice: Obviously it’s not good!

Ramuda: Hey, Dice, do you seriously believe in the dice god?

Dice: Of course, I believe that a god lives in this dice.

Ramuda: Then, you’re betting on that there’s god, right?

Dice: What are you sayi-

Ramuda: If you win, then I’ll give all of me to you. If you lose, I won’t take anything, don’t worry.

Dice: I don’t understand what you mean at all.

Ramuda: Now then, form a team with me - if nothing worthy comes out of it, that proves that there really is a dice god. But, if you think that you’re glad to have teamed up with me, then that will prove that there is none.

Dice: [laughs loudly] You’re so interesting! Fine, I’ll join you.

[They high five]

-----

Dice:Thanks for letting me stay at your house.

Ramuda: Not a problem at all, we’re already a posse now. Ah, Gentaro! I’m glad, you finally decided to join me, right?

Gentaro: Before you decide, can you carefully listen to my rap?

Ramuda: Hm! Got it. So… here! A Hypnosis mic.

[Gentaro’s rap starts]

Say do you know how to let somebody dream when they've forgotten how to laugh?

If you do please tell me

There's a person whom I want to make him smile no matter what it takes

I'm fed up - to penetrate and pierce through this reality

Funny store, or someday I’m fine with whoever’s story

If I could change the world wouldn’t it be nice to have a rap that transcends lies and reality

[Gentaro’s rap ends]

Dice: Heh, those are really pretty lyrics.

Ramuda: You’re amazing, Gentaro! Better than I imagined! Let’s change the world together!

Gentaro: Yeah, we’re gonna change this world.

Ramuda: Now, all three of us have assembled. We’ve gotta think of a team name. Hm… that’s right! Our team name should be...

Gentaro pretends to have never heard the name, that’s why it’s like that.

Gentaro also uses “Yo” here to represent “I” , which is a very old way to refer to yourself

The original word here is "片膝 (かたひざ)"，meaning that he’s literally kneeling down on one knee - I think the imagery here iis to show that Ramuda is still intact, unlike Dice who just flopped to the floor

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic #fling posse #t:drama #amemura ramuda #yumeno gentaro #arisugawa dice

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ais-n · 6 years

Text

One Piece theory

I’m in a mood to talk about a One Piece theory I have. This contains SPOILERS for One Piece’s world/history in general, but I’m guessing about the future so I could be totally wrong on ideas or predictions. I’m trying not to do any major spoilers in this beyond what we’ve learned of the ancient weapons, but if you’re worried about any spoilers at all, don’t read if you aren’t at least through Fishman Island arc.

btw you may read this and go “...yeah, and?? I already thought this too” but I wanted to put it down anyway, if for no other reason than potential amusement 10 years from now to look back and see how right or wrong I was.

Specifically, my theory is about what “one piece” itself is, and what would need to happen in order to achieve it. And why I think “one piece,” as I imagine it being, would end up also fulfilling the dreams of the main characters and many we know.

SPOILERS BELOW

So, let’s look at the ancient weapons as we know them.

Pluton is a ship, capable of massive damage and destruction, built in the Void Century on Water 7. My theory includes that Pluton represents “land” or at least, the elevation level of land - in this case, water/the ocean, which is the baseline level around the world because the majority of the world is water. In other words, Pluton is mid-range in terms of height. It would be used by people who naturally live at that level, aka humans or other beings which can’t just swim around in the sea and have to use a ship to navigate beyond there.

Poseidon is a “weapon” which we later learned is actually a person - specifically, a mermaid princess from the Void Century who had the ability to talk to Sea Kings, which are huge afffff and could do some massive damage. Poseidon represents the lower level or the deep sea - the lowest of the levels in terms of height. It is a weapon which can only be used by a denizen of the deep sea; a mermaid princess, in this case, who naturally would have been able to speak to sea creatures anyway but because of her extra powers she can speak to creatures of an age and size no one else (mostly) can communicate with.

Uranus is the last weapon, and we know nothing about it - except that it could be animate or inanimate, based on Pluton and Poseidon. My theory is that Uranus will be a weapon of the sky or air, something on the level of Skypiea or higher. Possibly even the moon. We’ve seen that there’s advanced technology in use already on the moon, thanks to Enel’s little foray into space. I feel like Uranus might end up being a weapon based on the moon OR be a weapon (or person or creation such as an android or cyborg or etc) which operates from a place of height such as the clouds, sky, or moon, and which is only capable of use by someone who naturally lives there. So, someone from Skypiea perhaps, or the moon people. Or possibly the sky weather wizard dudes, but since Uranus has been thought of as a night god and we’ve seen the technology of the automatons up there, I keep going back to the moon in my mind. But if we tie it to the Void Century, it’s harder to do because according to this One Piece timeline the moonfolk had already abandoned the moon at that time, which makes it seem like Skypiea is a choice again. But Enel clearly met someone up there since then, so... At any rate, Uranus represents the highest level of the weapons in terms of height.

In other words, Poseidon is the sea, Pluton is the land, and Uranus is the sky.

Why this matters is related to my theory and the Void Century.

So, prior to that, there was a great kingdom on Raftel which started gaining power. I keep thinking that kingdom is related to the D family line or at least the D’s in general, but we don’t know. What we do know is that 20 other kingdoms formed an alliance to fight the great kingdom, and those 20 kingdoms eventually won and became the World Government and produced the Tenryuubito - a system which, by this time in the OP world, is corrupt from its dominating power for so long.

We also know that prior to all that, the great kingdom had “built” 3 ancient weapons which I already named above.

Additionally, we know somewhere along the line Noah was brought down to the Fishman Island by Joy Boy in order to ??? - we don’t know for certain, but my theory is to bring the fishpeople and merpeople up to the surface.

We also know that it’s possible in the OP world for someone to have foresight, as Madam Shyarly/Sharley has shown us. And we know that some people can live a long ass time even if they are human in present settings.

Another thing we know is that Raftel is where “one piece” is allegedly going to be found, but no one has been there since Roger and his crew, who won’t really tell anyone what was up. There are 4 Poneglyphs, very specialized kinds called Road Poneglyphs, of which all are required in order to locate Raftel. (From what we understand, you would basically draw an x between these points, and the center is Raftel - x marks the spot) Which means Raftel isn’t something you can just willy nilly stumble across accidentally. There are implications with that, of course, but we’ll leave it for now.

(Just sayin’, though, do we know for certain it’s an island in the sense of the word we usually imagine? The images we’ve seen of it are mostly cliffs with fog or clouds surrounding it, and theoretically the blue at the bottom is water but it doesn’t necessarily mean it is, or if it is water that doesn’t necessarily = the ocean. I don’t have a strong opinion on this part, mind you; just mentioning it because if it’s not a traditional island, that would make it much harder to run across. Such as if it were on or in Red Line itself, or if it were beneath the water or in the sky, or some other unexpected location. But, again, that’s not really part of the theory, just a comment. It could easily just be a regular island that’s hard to find, too. Just seems like it would be a bit easier to stumble across if it is.)

Lastly, what we know is the world is divided into oceans based on the Red Line (a long string of land which goes all around the world) and the Calm Belt (which bisects the world perpendicular to the Red Line, and is two long slices of water where there are no currents and no wind and the Sea Kings thrive - therefore being a mortal danger to normal ships and boats). The Grand Line and New World - a turbulent strip of ocean circling the world - is located between the two Calm Belts and can only properly be accessed through the Red Line due to the Calm Belts (unless you are super special). The rest of the world is constituted of the more normal seas of East Blue, West Blue, North Blue, and South Blue. They span the entire world, but they are broken into their little sections by the Calm Belt/Grand Line on one side, and Red Line on another. Here’s a visual if anyone needs to be reminded. Also, here’s another two visuals which are different ways of looking at it.

This entire system keeps the nations and sea life and peoples and everything of the world all very much segregated from each other.

There is something known as “All Blue” that Sanji is seeking as his dream, where allegedly all the waters of the world pool together, meaning you can find all the sea animals/fish/etc of all the world co-mingling and all available. As a chef, he loves this idea.

We know a lot more things too, but it all ends up on tangents from what I wanted to get at now for my theory:

Personally, I think “One Piece” is the world becoming one world, by breaking down the Red Line, which I think was erected by the World Government or someone else in some way during the Void Century (or, barring that, was somehow taken advantage of by them). I think the three ancient weapons were made so that everyone had to work together to use them - people of the sky, the land, the sea - so that no one nation and no one people would become a danger of completely subjugating another.

If you look at the way the world is broken into pieces, a lot of it is based on the currents. The Grand Line is mega fucked because the currents are weird as hell, and the only law on that side of the world is the magnetism of the islands. In order to reach the Grand Line from the Blues, you have to scale a great mountain using what’s basically a backward sea current, which happens because all these different oceans try to meet at the same place and the pressure shoots the water upward and over into the Grand Line.

These ocean currents also probably play into the formation of the Calm Belt.

But when you look at WHY there are these wonky ass currents, personally I believe the Red Line is a large reason for it. That is what causes the water to be unable to flow all around the world, that is what stops people from being able to migrate between countries, and it’s only through the Red Line that you can “easily” access the Grand Line/New World which is sandwiched between the Calm Belts. In a world of water, the Red Line is the outlier as the only massive strip of land which bisects the entire world. Everywhere else, it’s islands.

Also, whether by design or simply by taking advantage, the World Government controls a lot of the migration of people and more by controlling essentially the ports and gates of the Red Line. The Red Line allows them to exert inordinate control over a world otherwise easily run or equaled by pirates or just regular seafaring folk. Because the World Govt has its holiest city at the Red Line, and controls Sabaody and other places which are the only way to realistically gain entrance unless you’re willing to risk your lives and your ship by going the more difficult route of the sea floor.

If there were such a powerful set of weapons which could attack from below, at sea, and above, in sequence, it seems like they could at the least break a hole through the Red Line. The Sea Kings are absolutely massive, and if they were to ram themselves against the Red Line the way Laboon did Reverse Mountain, it seems like at the very least they could do some damage. I don’t think on their own they could break through, though, nor do I think a single ship could, nor any weapon no matter how powerful from the sky. The Red Line is incredibly massive, tall, and deep. It would take a coordinated attack on an extreme scale to make it budge.

But imagine a world where the Red Line was gone, or at least opened up significantly. If the Red Line is the reason for the messed up currents, then that could on its own affect the blue seas which would in turn affect the Calm Belts which would in turn affect the Grand Line/New World which would in turn affect the entire world.

If the world were, in fact, one piece, it would mean everyone would have an equal chance, it would mean power could be redistributed, and the people who felt banished to the sea floor could come back to the surface, and the people who fled to the moon or sky could return to land, and everyone would come to know each other and see that they all have meaning regardless of how they look or what they are. It would mean All Blue would happen, because now all the creatures of the sea could swim wherever they want, and a chef in the East Blue could, for the first time ever or perhaps hundreds or thousands of years, see naturally in the ocean a fish from the West Blue.

The Pirate King would be a king who ushered in a new world, a new nation comprised of the world nations as one, but being that he’s a pirate, he doesn’t want to rule it. So it would be a ruler who would let everyone rule on their own, without a governing agency telling everyone what to do and how to do it.

And through the creation of this sort of ‘one piece’ it would, in turn, fulfill the dreams of everyone in the Straw Hats:

Luffy: to be the Pirate King, not because he wants power, but because he wants to be the most free - now he is free to go on any adventure, anywhere, any time he wants

Zoro: to be the strongest/greatest swordsman in the world - now, he can easily travel the world to seek out opponents and rivals and maybe even proteges

Nami: to make a map of the world - now, because it’s all open, she can easily navigate everywhere and create the most complete

Usopp: to become a brave warrior of the sea - there would be no braver warriors of the sea than those who reunited all the seas into one

Sanji: to find All Blue - now, with the world opened to all the oceans, All Blue is everywhere; literally All of the Blues of East Blue, West Blue, North Blue, and South Blue

Chopper: to become a panacea, a doctor that can cure any disease - now he can go anywhere in the world, learn all of the medicine and healing advice from all of the cultures, and he can collect all that knowledge in order to use it to save everyone

Robin: to learn the true history of the world - the process of getting to the point where the world becomes one would likely inherently include learning what happened in the Void Century, but even if it didn’t she could now go anywhere, learn anything, talk to anyone, to learn even more

Franky: to create his dream ship - which he sort of already has done, in Thousand Sunny, but for it truly to be his dream ship he wants to see it around the world, through all these adventures, in all these contexts, and in the process of making the world one, he would do just that. And afterward? He would have that much more world to explore on his ship.

Brook: to navigate the world and return back to Laboon, so he knows he wasn’t abandoned by the crew all those decades ago. They would likely make it back to Reverse Mountain anyway through the process of all of this - because if indeed attacking the Red Line is part of what frees the world then that’s the natural next stop - but even without that, if the Red Line is no longer a barrier, then Brook and Laboon won’t be stuck on either side of the world from each other, and they can reunite anywhere.

Jimbei/Jinbe: TECHNICALLY not a straw hat at the moment, and so therefore we don’t technically know what his dream would be, but based on what we know of him he seems to wish for the fishpeople and merpeople to be free of oppression, to have better relations with humans/their like, and just generally for everyone to be safe. This could happen, with the world as one.

You could get into others at this point -

-Dragon and the Revolutionary Army want a revolution, primarily to wrench control away from the World Government which they seem as corrupt and oppressive (this dream would be met if the World Govt falls or loses its stranglehold on power).

-Coby, Smoker, Fujitora, formerly Kuzan and Garp, and all of the other Marines who see justice as something other than the justice the WG has been enforcing would see a more just justice come to play if the WG is no longer the monopoly on power and world navigation, and if everyone who joins the Marines or WG are able to do so of their own volition, and can affect the nature of the organization through hard work and a genuine passion for helping others.

-Everyone who’s talked about the Will of D would see the ancient weapons of the D empire, Raftel’s great kingdom, come back to the world in a manner which allows the world to regain a sense of freedom it hasn’t had in hundreds or thousands of years

-Alabasta, Dressrosa, Fishman Island, and all the nations who want better relations with other countries, who want a more equal world, would see a greater chance of that coming about with the Tenryuubito and others at the very height of it no longer dictating for everyone else. Including the nations who represent that gathering of nations (as all those I listed do) but who feel their voices aren’t being heard.

-Everyone who wants adventure without near certain death, who wanted to race around the world on a ship but whose dreams were broken by the severity of the Grand Line/New World, would have another chance

-Even the Vinsmokes may have a chance to regain their kingdom, since what seemingly took it away was the World Government

And many more people from many more perspectives. Hell, even Big Mom’s dream of everyone sitting at the table would be sort of achieved through this, except she’s kind of crazy so idk that she’d see it that way since she’s taking her dream to be much more literal than figurative.

Basically, the main people who would lose out in this are the corrupt people using the segregation of the world to their advantage to control traffic flow and monopolize power.

I could go on... I have theories about what may be going on with Vegapunk and more, but my theories are less strong down that line.

For now, I’ll leave it at this.

If anyone got this far, you probably already had all of these thoughts, too. If you did, I’d be curious to see if you have any other reasons for thinking all this which I didn’t mention. I didn’t go into everything for proof or evidence of why I think any of this, so it’s possible you’d be pointing to the same thing as me, but you may have noticed other things I didn’t - so it would be fun to compare :)

And if you hadn’t thought of any of this and you got this far, I’m curious what you think - if you think I’m tooooootally off, or if anything is interesting to you.

#one piece #one piece theories #about me #long post

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mllemaenad · 5 years

Note

(Chantry Asker) I don't defend the Chantry because I think is "has to be good", but part of what Dragon Age encourages us to do is consider the difficulty faced by well-intentioned factions. The Inquisition, for example, has problems, becoming vulnerable to infiltration, and depending on how you played the game, may have done worse. It's not easy to help people, but the Chantry TRIES. Many Thedosian groups don't even do that. If not the Chantry, then to whom do the downtrodden and hopeless turn?

But Anonymous person: this is exactly what I mean. Whence comes this desire to treat the Chantry like some kind of beleaguered, underfunded kindergarten teacher?

“She’s trying, okay? She’s trying.”

Do you feel the need to defend Mass Effect’s Cerberus, too? Sometimes an evil organisation is just an evil organisation.

Why on earth do you think the Chantry is ‘trying’? Again: absolutely no one is saying that a particular revered mother (or Chantry brother or sister) may not be a good person who attempts to help people. That’s not in question. But ‘the Chantry’ is a continent-wide political organisation with massive resources and influence. It is led by a divine and by grand clerics, and on the other side by lord and lady Seekers and by knight-commanders of the templars. It has shaped the world. That’s the scale we are working on here.

No one group in history has impacted life in Thedas more than the Chantry. The influence of this church of the Maker prevails across most of the continent’s kingdoms, and the bulk of humanity pays at least lip service to its tenets. Belief in the Maker has started wars and forced those outside the Chantry to the fringes of society.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s a good start.

"The Keepers, Shaperate, Qun, Augers, Seers, and Shamen don't help. Only the Chantry.”

That’s one of the first things you said to me. And it’s so confusing because ... it reads like you really don’t grasp that these people are not in Lothering because, largely, they have been driven to the margins by Orlais and its Chantry. They can’t be there. They would die.

Just as an example – can you imagine what would happen to an augur who set up in some Chantry-dominated village? Started summoning his gods, offering guidance and assistance, suggesting spirit possession to help training young mages? The poor bastard wouldn’t live out the day. But that wouldn’t be his fault. His people aren’t the ones practising religious persecution.

How – how – does that demonstrate the virtue of the Chantry? You can’t give someone points for being the only game in town when they’ve killed all the other players.

The Chantry began and has continued to be a predominantly human organisation. Other races are seen to be further from the Maker. The elves have their false pantheon of idols. The dwarves worship themselves. The Qunari are the worst of all, actively crushing worship of the Maker and desecrating Chantry values in the name of the Qun.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

They have built the racism right into their doctrine, so that’s nice. And the religious persecution. And just ... zero self-awareness in that they hate the Qunari for converting by force when they do the same thing.

But let’s think about your "downtrodden and hopeless”, shall we?

Why is it that most of the elves in Thedas live in abject poverty, and regardless of their skills are effectively barred from bettering their lot? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry invaded their homeland, stole it from them, and forced them to live in slums and convert to the Chantry faith.

But you already know that something went wrong. A small elven raiding party attacked the nearby human village of Red Crossing, an act of anger that prompted the Chantry to retaliate and, with their superior numbers, conquer the Dales.

We were not enslaved as we had been before, but our worship of the ancient gods was now forbidden. We were allowed to live among the humans only as second-class citizens who worshipped their Maker, forgetting once more the scraps of lore we had maintained through the centuries.

– The City Elves

Why is it that most mages are dependant on Chantry run Circles to house, feed and clothe them? Oh, that’s right. Because the Chantry kidnaps them as children, prevents them from inheriting their family titles and property, and steals their children in turn should they have any.

Chantry law requires those with significant magical ability to join the nearest Circle and live under its supervision. While Thedosians with extremely low levels of magical talent are generally permitted to go about their lives, they are still closely watched. In most nations, practising magic and not joining a Circle is to be branded an apostate and, thus, a danger to society. Those who survive capture are turned over to the Circle to become students or prisoners, depending on the circumstances.

– The World of Thedas Volume I

So that’s ... pretty great. It sounds as though you’re suggesting – best case scenario – that the Chantry should get points for setting up a soup kitchen for the homeless, when they were the ones who burned down those people’s houses. And built an ugly mansion on the land.

But that really is a ... best case scenario. It doesn’t really fit with the reality of how the Chantry operates. I mean: the Chantry takeover in Kirkwall was a fucking disaster. Meredith had death squads. I mean – death squads. That whole situation was a dystopian nightmare.

And then there’s whatever the fuck is going on in Tantervale:

Chantry law is all but absolute in Tantervale, earning the city its dour reputation. The city guard is obsessed with enforcement. A street urchin would get a year in the dungeon for something that would get him a pat on the back in Orlais.

– World of Thedas Volume I

So ... yay for theocracy? And then there’s the clusterfuck in Jader:

The overpopulation and poor living conditions led to an outbreak of disease that nearly crippled the city, followed by famine in the poorer sections when it was quarantined.

Mother Giselle, whose prosperous chantry was in a wealthier quarter, wrote to Val Royeaux asking for assistance from the Chantry. When help was not immediately forthcoming, it is said that she addressed the clerics of her chantry. “As Andraste herself said, ‘My faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,’ then so shall faith sustain the hungry in this time of need,” Giselle told them. “As we have devoted our lives to divine contemplation, such a diet should come to us quite easily.” With that she took the unprecedented step of taking all of her chantry’s food into the poor quarters of Jader, distributing it to peasants who would otherwise have starved to death.

Shocked and shamed by what some in Val Royeaux privately referred to as an ostentatious bullying tactic, Chantry officials coordinated relief efforts. Food arrived quickly, along with instructions on how it was to be distributed: first to the Jader chantry to end the hunger strike, then to the Orlesian peasants, then to the Fereldan refugees, and finally to the elves of the alienages. Mother Giselle famously replied to the orders by saying, “If we believe that some have fallen further from the Maker’s grace than others, then those who have fallen further are in greatest need of our care. We cannot fill their souls until we have filled their bellies.” With the support of Lady Seryl of Jader, who was directing relief efforts of her own, Giselle ignored the directives and fed the poor of the city without regard for race or nationality.

Her actions saved thousands of lives in Jader and made her a beloved figure among the poor in Orlais and Ferelden alike. Those actions also destroyed her chances of any official political advancement in the Chantry, as the grand clerics did not look kindly on being shown up in such a manner.

– World of Thedas Volume II

So, five important points here:

1) Mother Giselle’s actions are ‘unprecedented’. So stepping up like that and forcing the Chantry to give aid in a time of crisis is not actually standard practice.

2) This is a clear example of a person attempting to do good and being stymied by the Chantry hierarchy.

3) The Chantry is, in case anyone forgot, really fucking racist.

4) Ending a famine also ended this woman’s political career, because the Chantry just cannot stop being The Worst.

5) While Giselle is undeniably doing some really awesome stuff here, that bit about not being able to fill people’s souls before filling their bellies indicates that even good people tend to do harm when following Chantry doctrine, because they can’t just ‘do good’. They’re also pushing conversion.

Whenever and wherever the Chantry has real power, they tend to do terrible harm. They do it on such a scale, on such a level of ‘these bloody hands may never be clean again’ awful that ... a few acts of kindness can’t easily redeem them.

To be critical of the Chantry, I don’t need to have another option. I can critique a thing without going further – especially since ‘The Chantry killed everyone else’ is ... pretty much why other people aren’t around to help. But ... it really isn’t as if no one else knows how to do good?

I mean – look at Alistair. Assuming you made him king, he shows up with ships to bring the Fereldan refugees home, and offers aid to rebel mages. He fights with Meredith about it. That aid continues into Inquisition. While the Chantry is busy tearing Kirkwall apart, Alistair is helping. Anders runs a clinic for the poor and dispossessed in the Kirkwall sewers. He’s so damn popular that a mob turns up to defend him. That’s just one man. Most people like him are locked up, so they can’t help. Imagine a thousand clinics run by spirit healers.

Or ... did ... no one listen to Merrill?

Merrill: What does your Chantry do? I mean, you keep saying how great it is. Anders and Isabela tell me to stay away from it. But what does it do? Among the Dalish, the Keepers teach the children, preserve our history, perform magic. The priestesses here just... sing.

Sebastian: The Chantry does many charitable works. It cares for widows and orphans –

Merrill: Who in the Dalish would just be part of the clan, like everyone else. I just don't get it.

...

Bethany: So, there's no Circle among the Dalish?

Merrill: Any child with the gift of magic is apprenticed to a Keeper... in another clan if there's no need in her own.

Bethany: That sounds nice.

Merrill: Magic is a gift of the Creators. Why wouldn't we use it? It just seems... wasteful for humans to lock their mages away where they can't do any good.

– Merrill Dialogue

The Dalish would regard ‘charity’ as a communal duty, and magic as a tool to help people. She’s not wildly impressed by the Chantry, which is not doing enough good of any kind for her to notice. Merrill lives in one of the poorest parts of the city. So. Maybe her way might be worth a try?

Individuals can do good. Organisations can do good. These things are not in question. But the Chantry is – and I say this again – an imperial religion. Its primary function is to serve the Orlesian empire, which is racist, power hungry and deeply religiously intolerant. Empires are bad news.

I’ve seen the examples you’ve given. They exist. Some of them are real instances of a Chantry official, or a small, local chantry, doing a Good Thing. But I have to ask ...

Can you really look at a set of scales that has ‘genocide’ on one side and ‘helped out a single mum that one time’ on the other and say “Sure, that balances”?

#dragon age #chantry critical #Anonymous

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