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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years

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Grip Tape-Chapter 1 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader Summary: Peter offers to teach you how to skateboard and who are you to say no? This is a pre-bite fic so we get to enjoy Peter Parker in his full Dorky Display. Word Count: 3.2k

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying

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Chapter Summary: You decide Skateboarding is the best way to get the attention of a certain classmate...and it works

A/N: No, because when I wrote this I was under the impression that Andrew Garfield was like 6’2” but he’s like 5’10 ½”. He’s a whole 2 ½ inches taller than me 😭😭😭

I’m not changing anything now though it’s too late.

Also, this started as a drunk dare and now I'm here

Peter Parker. I mean where to begin? You’ve had a crush on him for a long time. You both grew up in the same school district, so you got to watch him grow up, grow into himself. As a kid, he wore a lot of sweaters and khakis. He looked very put together. Peter would get picked on because kids said he dressed funny, but he was still carefree. In the 4th grade, Peter got chunky glasses and it wasn’t long before they were covered in tape. He liked to play with chalk and sticks and seemed to be in his own little world. You wanted to join it but he seemed to like the solitude. You watched it all from the swings.

In middle school, his clothes were baggy and his glasses were still chunky. He got picked on a lot more. Now that you were old enough to understand the concept of wealth it was more evident that his family didn’t have much. You had Spanish class together and the assignment was to present your family tree in Spanish. To get full points you had to include pictures and a fun fact about each member of your tree. Peter didn’t seem too keen on presenting but you couldn’t blame him. Eugine was in this class and loved any opportunity to tease the poor lanky boy.

As Peter presented you realized that it was a very small tree. The pictures of his grandparents were old, which made sense, but the picture he used for his parents was odd. They seemed very young, like in their very early 20’s. The clothing was dated as well, very ninety’s-esk. The pictures of his aunt and uncle looked like they were pulled straight from Facebook. As Peter spoke you noticed he was twisting his hoodie string around his finger, forwards, backwards, back and around. You would watch as his index finger turned red, then blue, then back to normal. His voice wavered as he stuttered over consonants. It wasn’t missed to the class when he skipped over his parent’s “fun fact”.

Finally, it was over and there was tentative, polite applause. He seemed to take a deep breath and started to make his way back to his seat before Senora Willis stopped him. She was probably trying to be nice, perhaps thinking he was just so nervous that he forgot. She just wanted to make sure Peter got all his points but in all actuality, she put him under a glaring spotlight, gave him a mic, and made him declare that he didn’t have a fun fact for his parents because they died when he was young.

“I don’t remember much about them.”

After that, he got teased a lot more but by fewer people. Isn’t it odd how a bully’s brain works? See, because now, everyone knew he was an orphan some people laid off, pitying him instead of terrorizing him, while others felt as though they were just given a full clip of ammunition. Then there were the few who fell in the middle, they didn’t treat him any differently, but that still meant that they were bullying him.

That’s when he started skateboarding. Every day he would hop off the bus, board in hand, and glide away. You always assumed it was because it’s harder to hit a moving target. At this point, you were thirteen. All the right hormones were in place and the gods had given you a soft-spoken boy with brown eyes and curly hair. It doesn’t take a mathematician to solve this equation. Although maybe it did because as smart as that Peter Parker was he was not catching onto any of it. No matter how many smiles, waves, or awkward ‘Hey Peter’s you gave him.

You were now juniors in high school. He seemed to have finally grown into his clothes, his glasses were replaced by contacts, and now he rode his skateboard in the halls. School had been in session for two months now and you had chemistry together. He sat one table ahead of you, to the left. You spent all of class trying to focus on the lecture and labs but ultimately you would always be distracted by a mop of curls. October 8th marked the day you decided to end this endless infatuation. You would actively pursue him until winter break and if nothing happened you would just forget it. You had been working at the local movie theatre for a few months and while you were saving up for a car you could make an exception for a trip to the mall.

You felt very out of place in this Vans shop. You had seen a sticker on the back of his board with this store on it so you thought you would start here. You didn’t know much about skate culture but you didn’t want to look stupid. You picked up a magazine and thumbed through it for a while before you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You were met by the confused gaze of an employee with a blue fauxhawk, gauges, and a teddy fresh hoodie. He smiled at you politely as you placed the magazine back in its caddy.

“How can I help you?” It was a completely normal and warranted question but you felt silly for being asked. You looked down at the ground deep in thought. How were you supposed to explain that you wanted to get the attention of a boy you’ve been infatuated with since you were six and the only thing you could think of was that he possibly shopped here.

“Um…well…you see…” The employee sat there quietly waiting for you to answer.

You galnced back up and almost as if he could see your discomfort and confusion he spoke again, “Maybe we should start with a skateboard?”

You pulled a face and he snickered. “I’m sorry if I offend, it’s just that I haven’t seen you in here before, and you don’t exactly look like Tony Hawk.”

At that you laughed, pushing your hair out of your face, a nervous habit you picked up somewhere. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious” you chuckled to yourself.

“It’s all good, really” The man smiled at you again. He started walking to the back of the store and gestured for you to follow. He helped you find a board, you picked out some trucks, some bearings, and some cool wheels to go with it. He even assembled them for you. You walked out feeling a lot better but then suddenly it hit you.

You had to learn how to ride one of these things. You walked your board over to a Walmart and bought a cheap helmet and a protective set with knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist protectors. You didn’t think you were quite ready for a skate park so you just rode the bus home. You pulled up youtube videos and tried your best in the driveway. You practised every day after school or work, and soon it wasn’t so hard. You could do the two important parts, stop and go. Now it was time for part two, bring it to school.

You rode the bus that morning very anxious. You were blasting some feel-good tunes into your ears to try and settle some of your nerves. As you walked off the bus you took a deep breath and set the end of the board under your toes while holding onto the top, just like you had rehearsed so many times the night before. You stepped forward with your front foot and pushed off, taking sail. So far this was working perfectly. You went up the ramp to the front doors before stopping and kicking it back up into your hand.

As you made your way to your locker you made sure to rest your board against your leg, very visible, so that Peter may spot it on his daily commute past you in the hall. What you didn’t know was that Peter had seen you on your way in when he rounded the corner. He didn’t know you skated. You seemed pretty okay at it too. He sped up to try and catch up to you, maybe get the door for you, but you had already stepped inside.

He wished in this very moment that he wasn’t so damn awkward. If he called your name out you may be weirded out, or you just wouldn’t hear him because you had your earbuds in. Also, he realized he didn’t remember your name so that just wasn’t an option. If he ran then that may also scare you. What was he gonna do, stop you and say “cool skateboard” but then what? He had no clue how to approach you. Now that he was in the halls he was looking for you, he hoped your locker was in this wing.

You continued pretending to be searching through your locker, keeping an eye on the mirror on the door hoping to see him skate by. A few minutes later he passed you, moving faster than usual. He was scanning the hall and maybe you were crazy but he seemed surprised when he saw you. Maybe he had seen you! You felt butterflies in your stomach at the prospect. You hastily stuffed your board in your locker and grabbed the books you needed for class.

As you made your way to first period you missed Peter as he circled back to see you again. He couldn’t remember which one was exactly yours but at least he knew the general area. Maybe he would talk to you tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow is good, that’ll give him time to plan some conversation starters.

You had to hang back and talk to your teacher after second period to go over some questions you had about the study guide. You were rushing through the halls trying to make it to chem on time. Your teacher’s policy was if you weren’t “in your seat” when the bell rings you’re late and you have to go to the office for a tardy slip. You stepped inside right as the bell rang and Mr Crawford gave you an annoyed glare as he jerked his head to your desk, silently warning you to take your seat before he changed his mind. You bowed your head to him and walked briskly to your seat, but not before risking a glance at Peter.

Peter saw you walk in and felt shocked. He knew you. You had always been so kind to him. Oh god, what was your name again? It was on the tip of his tongue. Had you been in his class this whole time? He would have to pay more attention to roll. As Mr Crawford began to unceremoniously drone out the names for America’s future, Peter began to glance back to where you sat. You were still setting up for class, pulling out pens, folders, and journals. “Parker, Peter” Suddenly his attention was brought back to the front where Mr Crawford’s glasses hang low on his nose as he stares at a piece of paper. Peter threw his hand up and declared “Here, sir” as Mr Crawford glanced in his direction to confirm his claim.

As Peter glanced back he saw you were already looking at him. You quickly turned away, sorting your pens, trying to play it off. Peter couldn’t help but grin at this. You had been looking at him. Did you do that often? He couldn’t imagine you did. His attention was broken again when he saw your hand shoot up into the air as you called “Here!” just as he had a few seconds ago. Dammit! He missed your name again!

“Maybe” Crawford began in his almost antagonistic drone “tomorrow you can be more punctual ms (y/l/n)”

“Of course sir.”

Okay so he had a last name, that’s better than nothing. He really needed to pay more attention.

Today was a lab day. There was an odd number in the class so Peter opted to be the only person without a partner. He was always more of an introvert anyway and it’s not like he needed the help. Chemistry was his best subject and it had always come very easily to him, perhaps he had his parents to thank for that. Perhaps he would never know. Today though, He wished he did have a partner and that you were said partner. You shared a similar thought. Your lab partner was Trevor Daniels, he was a nice guy all things considered but he didn’t actually help out with the labs. He claimed that you were “better at this stuff anyway” and just wrote down what you told him to.

The assignment was simple: mix some salt, copper, and aluminium together and see what happens. Peter was flying through the lab when he came up with a genius plan. He went to the sink and dumped the liquid he had and then threw away any evidence of success, going as far as to rip out his lab notes. He went back to his table with a new determination. To the vials he added two scoops of the copper to the beaker and filled it the rest of the way with water, leaving out the salt.

You seemed to be handling this lab well considering there were no measurements given for the assignment, which meant that you must have balanced the equation correctly. Peter wasn’t at all surprised by this. He saw that you were cleaning up your station. You were the Third one done (Well fourth but Peter technically didn’t finish). There were still twenty minutes of class left. He straightened his jacket before he headed over to you. You were on your phone and didn’t notice him approaching you until he lightly rapped his knuckles on your desk.

You looked up at him and he tried his best not to laugh. The goggles had left a red ring around most of your face. It did look quite silly but also quite adorable.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry it’s just I saw that you finished up and I seem to be struggling for some reason. If you could help me out I would really appreciate it.” Okay, the delivery could have been a little better but it wasn’t so bad, nothing he couldn’t recover from.

You knew that something was up immediately. Peter was the first one done every time with perfect execution. How could he possibly be struggling with this easy lab that was definitely an “I don’t wanna grade” assignment?

He sensed your hesitancy and brought his palms together resting his fingers on his lips, a silent prayer, “Please, (y/l/n) I could really use the help.”

You weren’t going to turn him down in the first place but how could that thought even cross your mind when he’s towering over you, those puppy dog eyes boring into your very soul. “Yeah of course, just let me grab my notes.”

At that Peter brought his hands forward, shaking them slightly as if praising you. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

Peter wasn’t truly paying attention as you talked. He hummed along periodically and watched as your pen left permanent scrawl on his graft paper. He loved your handwriting. It was very you. Right now you were balancing the equation because after looking at the concoction in the beaker in front of you, you realized he must have done it wrong. You were glancing over periodically at your own notes and Peter did the same. As he peered over at your notes he saw your name at the top of the paper, (y/f/n) (y/l/n).

You were trying your best not to hyperventilate. Peter was very tall. When you got over to his desk he sat down while you stood so you could reach everything. You occasionally would write in his notebook to highlight important parts in every step. You were leaning in and across him. You could smell his deodorant (cologne maybe?) and you didn’t know how to describe it. It smelled like “boy” but with hints of citrus. You loved it. Peter was trying not to gaze directly at your chest every time you leaned across him to get the beaker or the stir stick or whatever it was you needed.

A few minutes left in class and you managed to wrap it up and Peter seemed to understand where he went wrong.

“Thank you (Y/n) I really appreciate your help. I don’t know how I missed the two.” You giggled along with him, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as you could. This is what you had been wanting since the 7th grade, the ability to talk to Peter normally, and finally, it was happening.

“Yeah, of course, I’m happy to help.” More happy than he knew.

Peter really liked talking to you and would like to do so without having to pretend he’s stupid. “Do you have first lunch?”

The question caught you off guard. Oh my god, is it happening? Does he like you? No, of course not, he's just being friendly. Of course, that’s what it is.

”Yeah, I usually eat in the library.” Your palm met your forehead with such force and velocity Peter worried you may have just given yourself a concussion.

Meanwhile, you were scolding yourself like the mother of a two-year-old throwing a tantrum in a target. Why did you say that? Why would you volunteer information that makes you seem like a total loser? Jesus H. Christ when will you learn?

Peter chuckled softly at your antics. He dipped his head so that he could gaze up at you without your arm covering your face. “Do you like to read a lot?”

You slowly opened your eyes to see big brown ones staring up at you, the clunky goggles made them look even bigger. Two moons orbiting in your space, Deimos and Phobos, drawing you in with their crushing gravity. For a moment you thought you might have just drifted into the cosmos because you found there was a lack of oxygen in your environment. You came crashing back down to the planet when the bell rang. Peter had already packed up for class but your stuff was still out on your table.

Peter walked over with you while you gathered your things. He continued talking like what just happened…didn’t.

“Well if you want you can eat with me. I like to eat in the courtyard. It’s usually empty this time of year so I can skate all I want. It’s just as peaceful as the library but not nearly as warm.” You chuckled at that.

October in New York was indeed no joke but you quickly decided that it would be totally worth any cold or flu. You told him as much and he flashed that Peter Parker smile. The one that makes your heart clench and knees wobble. The one that ctrl, alt, deletes your brain.

“Bring your skateboard if you want. It’s fun and it keeps you warm, I promise.” And with that, he left you in the hallway.

#rancid writes #peter parker x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield spiderman x reader #andrew peter parker #the amazing spider man #peter parker skate king #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #spiderman #pre bite peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm

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kaiserdingus · 2 years

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The Unbelievable Story of the Lost German Dub of Snow White

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Snow White is one of the quintessential German fairy tales, written in 1812 by the Brothers Grimm. The story is well known the world over, largely thanks to the 1937 animated feature film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs from Disney. Both the story and film shared an enthusiastic fan in Adolf Hitler, the infamous German dictator from 1933 to 1945. Hitler was also a big fan of Walt Disney.

Something virtually unknown today is that in 1938, Disney produced a German dub of Snow White on Hitler's wishes. Though this version wasn't released during the Third Reich, it would be released in Germany following the end of World War II. The cast was made up of uncredited German speakers living in Amsterdam. These weren't just any actors, however, these were some of the finest actors in German cinematic history. They were also Jews living in exile, most of whom would be murdered in the Holocaust.

Today we're going to take a look at the production of the German-language version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, produced for the Third Reich and featuring Jewish actors who would be killed before the film would even see a release. We'll also try to answer the age-old question of Walt Disney's alleged anti-semitism, and if he had mutual respect for Hitler. Was Walt Disney an anti-semite? Let’s find out.

Before we begin we should discuss anti-semitism, so everyone is on the same page. Anti-semitism is commonly defined as hatred or bigotry against Jewish people, but it’s a little more complicated than that. The term anti-semitism was coined as a negative meant to paint European Jews as Semitic, which is an antiquated term for Middle Eastern people. Semites were people who spoke Semitic languages like Hebrew, Arabic, and Aramaic. Most European Jews looked and dressed like other Europeans, but many held onto old-world traditions and customs, so anti-semites would attempt to frame the Jew as an untrustworthy “other” from the East.

Jews were a common target in Europe as they were an extreme minority with their own customs and language, Yiddish, as well as segregation laws that dictated who could conduct what type of business. In the middle ages, Christians weren’t allowed to loan money and collect interest, but Jews could, so many Jewish people took jobs as bankers and tax collectors. This created a deliberate buffer between the wealthy royal elite and the common masses, as Jewish people were the ones collecting taxes for the wealthy, and thus the common people would aim their frustration at those who physically took their money. This legal division that economically coerced Jews into jobs concerning money has led to the stereotype of the “greedy Jew” that persists to this day. This is why it was easy for someone to stand up, declare the Jews to be Germany’s enemy, and have everyone unite against them.

Now back to Walt Disney, he grew up in Kansas City, Missouri as an all-American boy with a paper route. After serving in World War I, Disney started an animation studio in Kansas City before moving to Hollywood. By the mid-1920s he was making a name for himself as one of the top names in animation, and in 1928 he would release Steamboat Willie, the first major sound cartoon starring Mickey Mouse. The success of Steamboat Willie made Disney a household name the world over, including Germany. Disney used his newfound success to expand his animation studio, and would eventually begin production on the first full-color animated feature film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

After the National-Socialists came to power in 1933, Hollywood was still exporting movies to Germany on a regular basis. Many studios like Paramount, Fox, Warner Brothers, and Universal had their own local distribution offices, others signed deals with German studios like UFA or Tobis to release their films. By this point, the goals of the National Socialists were well understood by the international community, and there was global outrage about their treatment of the Jews. In 1935, early in the production of Snow White, Walt Disney, his brother Roy, and their two wives went on a European road trip. One of the reasons for this trip was to sign a new distribution contract with Bavaria Filmkunst AG, as Disney had been sour about their previous deal with UFA. The Disneys didn’t meet with any members of the Reich while in Germany, but they did meet with the family of Benito Mussolini while in Italy.

Production of Snow White was completed and the film was released to unprecedented box office success in 1937. The Ministry of Propaganda in Germany knew they needed Disney to release Snow White, after all, it’s based on a German fairy tale. Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels was a well-known film fan, as was Adolf Hitler, both being big fans of Walt Disney. By 1937 most American studios had stopped releasing films in Germany, so the German government and the German film studios worked with Disney to negotiate a deal. Throughout 1938 the Disney company would be in frequent contact with both Bavaria Filmkunst AG and UFA, who were competing for the rights to Snow White.

A total of twelve versions of Snow White were produced for international audiences in 1938, with the German version being the most difficult to iron out. That Spring, while still going back and forth over negotiations, Roy Disney traveled to Amsterdam to oversee the dubbing of Snow White into various European-language versions, as well as a German-language version for when the deal was finalized. Hired to direct the Dutch and German versions was Kurt Gerron, a German Jew living in exile who had been a famous actor and director in Germany before 1933. It’s not currently known if Disney knew he was a Jew who had fled Germany. The simplest explanation is that he was an actor and director who happened to speak German and could do the job.

The production took place at Cinetone Studios in Amsterdam, and the cast of the German version was made up primarily of Jewish exiles like Gerron. Dora Gerson played the Queen, Otto Wallburg played Doc, Kurt Lilien was Grumpy and Sneezy, Siegfried Arno was Happy, and Gerron himself played the Magic Mirror and Bashful.

Dora Gerson was a German-Jewish actress who appeared in German films alongside Bela Lugosi during the silent era. She had been married to director Veit Harlan briefly in the 1920s, Harlan would later go on to direct the anti-semitic propaganda film Jud Süss in 1940. Gerson fled Germany for the Netherlands in 1936, and would eventually be caught and sent to Auschwitz with her husband and two children. The family was murdered at Auschwitz on February 14th, 1943.

Otto Wallburg was a prominent comedian and actor who performed in dozens of movies in the 1920s and 1930s. He appeared alongside Kurt Gerron in the 1931 comedy Bombs on Monte Carlo, also in 1931 he appeared in The Congress Dances, which was an international sensation. He escaped Germany for Austria in 1933, where he continued working in film until fleeing to France and then finally the Netherlands. After the German invasion of the Netherlands in 1940, Wallburg was arrested and sent to the Westerbork transit camp before he was killed at Auschwitz on October 29th, 1944.

Kurt Lilien was an actor who was most active between 1927 and 1933. During this time he appeared in a number of films, including Two Hearts Beat as One starring Lilian Harvey. Lilien also performed in the 1927 silent film The Most Beautiful Legs of Berlin alongside Kurt Gerron. He was killed at the Sobibor Concentration Camp in Poland on May 28th, 1943.

Of those who performed in Snow White, there is no one more historically significant than Kurt Gerron. Unbeknownst to Disney at the time, Gerron had a reputation with the new regime. To international audiences, Gerron was Marlene Dietrich’s manager in The Blue Angel. To the Nazis, Gerron represented the personification of Jewish excess. In his films, Gerron commonly played the part of the Jewish banker, lawyer, or any sort of greedy businessman. His appearance inspired many of the anti-semitic cartoons published in right-wing newspapers of the 1930s, and in 1940 his image would be used disparagingly in the propaganda film The Eternal Jew. Gerron was the image most people had in their heads of what a Jew looked like.

The final film directed by Kurt Gerron, long after his work on Snow White was behind him, was a propaganda film praising the conditions of the concentration camps. The Reich had intended to use his international fame to show the world that Jews weren’t being mistreated in concentration camps. Gerron believed producing the film would save him and his wife, but after the film was finished the two were sent to Auschwitz where they were murdered on October 28th, 1944.

Production on the German dub of Snow White wrapped towards the end of July 1938. Materials were sent from Amsterdam to Hollywood, where the recordings would be synced to the movie itself before release. Deals to release Snow White were already in place for other countries, but Germany was the big one and negotiations were moving slowly. As a show of goodwill, Walt Disney invited German filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl to show her latest film Olympia at the Disney studio. Riefenstahl was controversial, however, as she produced propaganda films for the National-Socialist regime. Olympia was a two-part documentary covering the 1936 Berlin Olympics, and she was preparing to travel to the United States to promote the film.

Riefenstahl’s debut in the United States couldn’t have come at a worse time, and her untimely appearance would do irreparable harm to both Walt Disney’s public image and his lasting legacy. Shortly after Riefenstahl’s arrival, on November 9th, 1938 a deadly anti-semitic pogrom would unfold across Germany. Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass, was a tipping point for the Holocaust. Jewish businesses were ransacked and destroyed, thousands were attacked and injured, and there were nearly 100 deaths. The international press lit up with reports, it’s said that no other event in Germany between 1933 and 1945 had more significance in the international media.

When informed of what happened, Riefenstahl dismissed the reports as anti-German propaganda. Regardless of how she felt, the American people did not welcome her with open arms. She had planned to visit all of the major Hollywood studios, but in the wake of Kristallnacht, only one would see her: Disney. All of the other studios had pulled out of Germany by this point, but Disney was still hoping to sign the deal for Snow White. Disney personally welcomed Riefenstahl to his studio and showed her production art from Fantasia, but informed her that they wouldn’t be screening her film. All of the projectionists who worked for the studio were part of the projectionist union, who were boycotting Riefenstahl. Disney did his best to salvage the Snow White deal without offending his contemporaries in Hollywood but ultimately failed.

The public had been unaware of the Snow White deal, so when Disney was the only Hollywood studio to welcome Leni Riefenstahl immediately after Kristallnacht the American public had been convinced he was both an anti-semite and a supporter of the Third Reich. Maybe unfortunately for Disney, the deal fell through and Snow White wouldn’t be released in Germany until the 1950s. While it may seem obvious why the deal fell through, releasing a film in Germany post-Kristallnacht would’ve been an international public relations disaster, that might not be the only reason, though.

The Reich Film Archive was the state-owned center dedicated to preserving film, well before film preservation became an important issue in Hollywood. The Germans recognized that they had a very big hand in shaping cinema as an art form, and they made it a priority to preserve it. Following the Soviet invasion of Germany, the Reich Film Archive was seized by Soviet forces. Within the archive was a curiosity, four versions of Snow White, one being the unreleased German version. The Third Reich was in possession of a copy, indicating that Disney got as far as submitting the film for approval before everything fell apart.

So, what happened? That’s the part of the story where things get fuzzy. After Riefenstahl returned to Germany in February 1939, Goebbels put a ban on American media. Snow White would’ve been given special permission, but Disney canceled the release altogether given the political climate. The Reich was in possession of a copy of the film and it was likely screened for Hitler’s inner circle, as it was reportedly one of Hitler’s favorite movies. This begs the question, did Hitler know who the voice actors were? Did Goebbels know the Queen was voiced by the Jewish ex-wife of the director he chose for Jud Süss?

These questions are difficult to answer as it was uncommon for voice actors to be credited in animation at the time, even in the United States. The opening credits of Snow White largely focus on the artists and animators without any mention of the actors. The Reich Film Archive entry for Snow White lists the credits as they appear in the film without a single mention of the German language actors. If Hitler’s inner circle had sat down to watch Snow White after dinner, as they did with a different film each night, and someone were to ask who the actors were there would be no way to immediately answer that question. The only evidence publicly available today are newspaper clippings from the Netherlands announcing the production, as well as a newsletter by a journalist who reported on Jewish actors living in exile.

As mentioned earlier, Hitler and Goebbels were movie buffs who were regular attendees of the cinema. They were well aware of who Kurt Gerron was, and would likely recognize the sound of his voice. Again, Gerron was seen as the personification of negative Jewish stereotypes. It’s likely they would have known of his involvement after watching the film, so what would they have thought of it? No one from The Walt Disney Company has ever publicly spoken about the 1938 German version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs featuring a cast of exiled Jews who would be murdered in the Holocaust. It would certainly be a dark secret that any company would want to cover up, but this is a story so obscure that few of those actually involved would be aware of its historical significance. Song of the South this is not.

Neither Walt Disney nor his brother Roy had been aware that Kurt Gerron was Jewish. They had no idea the cast he assembled for the German version had been Jews living in exile. If they did, it’s unlikely they would have hired Gerron, but not out of a direct sense of anti-semitism on Disney’s part. It would have been anti-semitic not to hire Gerron because he was a Jew, but that would be the cost of doing business with the Third Reich.

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Sources

·“Walt Disney’s European Tour in 1935: Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.” The German Way, 4 May 2020, www.german-way.com/walt-disneys-european-tour-in-1935-germany-austria-and-switzerland.

·Giesen, Rolf, and J. P. Storm. Animation Under the Swastika. Jefferson, North Carolina, McFarland, 2012. ·Prisoner of Paradise. Directed by Malcolm Clarke and Stuart Sender. Menemsha Entertainment, 2002.

·“De Nederlandsche Versie van Walt Disney’s Sneeuwwitje.” Nieuwsblad van Het Noorden, 7 May 1938. ·“Hollands Sneeuwwitje Vóór de Zomer Klaar.” Zaans Volksbad, 19 May 1938, p. 14.

·Snow White Archive. “1938 German Dub of Snow White.” Filmic Light, 19 Nov. 2017, filmic-light.blogspot.com/2017/11/1938-german-dub-of-snow-white.html.

·Doherty, Thomas. “When Leni Riefenstahl Came to Hollywood.” The Hollywood Reporter, 23 Aug. 2021, www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/leni-riefenstahl-hollywood-1235001606.

#snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white #disney #disney history #film history #animation history #world war 2

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nicknellie · 3 years

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Context so people who haven’t seen Ghosts can still read and enjoy this: Alex is the ghost of a WWII Commanding Officer. In this fic he relives his army days before he died, telling Julie all about it, focusing on another soldier in particular - Lieutenant William Havers.

Sidenote for people who have seen Ghosts: Alex is the Captain, Julie is Alison (because I would pay real money for them to have a conversation like this in the show), and Willie is Havers.

This is the saddest thing I’ve ever written. I wanted to include Willex in the longer Ghosts AU I’m writing but I couldn’t find a natural way to fit it in so I wrote this as something completely separate. Every interaction between Alex and Willie is taken from BBC Ghosts and is very gay.

Here’s to Buried Secrets

Alex could remember it like it was yesterday. Late June in 1940 – hazy spring had bled into a dazed summer, his troops were getting restless after going on a year of work, and he was just about ready to lose his mind. That day had been one of startling revelations and hard-hitting truths, painful decisions that felt like betrayals, stagnant silences and hurt.

With the war dragging on endlessly, his troops had been getting complacent. They did critical work at their base, top secret and crucial to the war effort, but there were times where nothing would happen for days at a time and the troops would get bored. Their behaviour was beginning to waver, and though he wasn’t too against it overall (he understood why they were acting up, he was bored to death too) Alex had to do the right thing and set them straight.

“Now,” he said, “that brings me neatly to point sixteen. There is still a great deal of noise going on at night – laughing, giggling, horseplay. Now, we all get bored – that’s inevitable in our circumstances – but may I remind you, we are at war. I wo…”

He had let his sentence trail off. At that moment, the doors at the back of the room had swung open and in walked Willie. Lieutenant William Havers was Alex’s right-hand man and close friend. There couldn’t always be much room for friendships when at war, and living in such close quarters with everyone in the house could make bonding difficult, but there was something about Willie and Alex that had allowed them simply to click. They understood each other – they cared for each other. Perhaps a little too much.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Alex greeted, interrupting his own speech.

Willie walked towards him, hand outstretched, holding a small, folded piece of paper. “Communique for you, sir, from HQ, marked urgent.”

“Ah,” Alex returned, taking the note. “Finally! This’ll be my requisition for a service revolver.”

Willie smiled gently as Alex unfolded the note, and Alex suppressed his own. But as soon as he read the note, there was no smile left to hide. This was that first striking blow, that devastating loss; the note brought with it the news of a surrender.

“Good God,” Alex exclaimed, skimming the note over again, making sure he’d read it correctly.

“Sir?” Willie prompted, sounding concerned.

“France has surrendered,” Alex explained.

“My God,” muttered Willie. The troops, still assembled to the side of the two men, began murmuring amongst themselves, the tension in the room much higher now than when Alex had been telling them they needed to go to bed on time.

Alex looked out the window, scanning the sky for any sign of attack. It was silly, he knew – nothing could have happened so quickly – but as it was wont to do, his anxiety began to overwhelm him.

“The Germans are coming,” he said, breath hitching in his throat.

“I don’t think they’ll be here just yet, sir,” Willie told him.

Alex shook his head, regained control. Willie was always good at doing that; he could sense when Alex needed help to calm down, and he could do so with an easy joke, a clever quip. Coming from anyone else, talking to a commanding officer that way might have been a sign of disrespect, but from Willie it was just what Alex needed.

“What? Right,” Alex agreed.

Willie could see he was still distressed. “May I suggest we initiate the emergency lockdown protocol, sir?” he said easily.

“Yes!” Alex exclaimed. He was eternally thankful for Willie – God only knew where he would be without that man by his side. “Yes, jolly good.” He turned to address his troops. “Now, it’s vital that nothing fall into enemy hands.”

“You heard the CO,” Willie said to the troops as Alex turned to watch out the window again. “Get to your duties.”

The troops dispersed in a cloud of excited but nervous chatter, getting to their stations, hiding their work. Alex was left alone with Willie, his only comfort. As Willie came to stand by the window with him, that easy, dashing smile on his lips, Alex felt himself both tense and relax. His worry ebbed away, but it was replaced with the hammering of his heart and a shortness of breath.

“Er… exciting times, Willie,” he ventured. He knew he should have called Willie by his proper title, or at least his surname, but when in private the two were much more open and colloquial with each other. Besides, in the wake of such a bombshell using his first name didn’t seem so scandalous. “If they do invade, we might get a proper pop at Jerry.”

“Yes,” Willie said through a chuckle. But the smile on his face dropped after a moment. Alex felt his heart plummet – Willie was usually all smiles and it was never good when they fell away. “About that, sir… I know we do vital work here, sir… but I want to get involved in the fighting. I’ve put in for a transfer.”

Alex felt like his breath had been stolen from him. Here again, that blow to the gut, that crushing feeling of betrayal. He knew distantly that Willie wasn’t betraying him and he could understand why he wanted to go. What stung was that he was only finding out after the fact. Though he knew also why Willie hadn’t told him: because they both knew that Alex would have done everything in his power to stop him, and it would have been too painful for either of them to bear.

Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but there was something magical about the bond they had. It was like they shared a soul, improved each other, completed one another. Alex didn’t want to think too hard about it. The thought of what he and Willie could have been was painful in innumerable ways.

He still didn’t voice those thoughts now, even though he knew it may be one of the only chances he had left. Instead, through a hitch in his voice, he said, “You’re leaving?”

Willie didn’t reply for a moment, a pregnant pause growing between them, pushing them apart. It stung, and Alex couldn’t feel anything.

But then Willie gathered himself and said, “There’s talk of a North Africa front.”

“Yes,” Alex replied, nodding like it all made perfect sense, like he didn’t feel as if he were going to die. “Yes, well, I totally understand, of course. Carry on.”

He ended it like a command, an order. It wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from Willie - no, he wanted to keep him close by forever - but he needed to grasp some semblance of control and giving orders, doing his job as CO let him do just that - be in control, understand what was happening.

“Thank you,” Willie replied, excruciatingly quiet, ducking his head.

He left the room and Alex in musty silence, the air heavy with revealed secrets and suffocating like gas. Alex’s mind was swimming, fogged with hopeless fantasies, weighed down by the knowledge that the one person who kept him going would soon be leaving him.

Alex had almost forgotten that Julie was there until he looked around and saw her watching him. He was dragged back down from his own mind, his own dredged up memories, and instead reminded himself that he had been telling her all that, not reliving it for no good reason. Perhaps he’d got a bit too caught up in it all, lost in his own head.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Willie was wonderful. A very fine soldier. I never found what became of him, though, after he left for North Africa. We exchanged letters for a while, but it was difficult – what with the top-secret work I was doing, we couldn’t have addresses being traced and whatnot. We soon fell out of touch, and then… well, I died.”

Julie reached out as if to take his hand, but then seemed to remember they couldn’t touch, so rested it in the space between them on the sofa. Alex smiled weakly, laid his own hand beside hers. He tried to avoid looking her in the eye – her expression radiated pity and it was the last thing he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said gently. “It must have been awful.”

“Luckily, a true soldier like me becomes adept at hiding his feelings,” he said, trying for light and joking but clearly missing his target. “Besides. I couldn’t worry my troops. Had to keep morale up, which was difficult enough in itself. It was… it was rather a lot to come to terms with.”

“What happened when he left?” Julie asked softly.

Alex sighed. “Well…”

Alex had been in his office just a few days later. He was staring down at an envelope, carefully sealed. In it was the blueprints for a new limpet mine, a prototype bomb that would perhaps revolutionise the war had it not been so unstable – Alex and Willie had been trying to create a version that was safer, easier to use, but so far had come up empty. They had been instructed to dispose of the bomb and its blueprints; the mission would be dropped.

The envelope was marked simply with the word ‘William’. That was what the operation was called, its codename. Alex had been the one to decide upon it, uncreatively naming it after the first thing he saw, which just so happened to be his lieutenant sat by his side. Willie was the only other one to know about Operation William and when he left it would just be Alex.

Alex had imagined many a time that the contents of the envelope were something entirely different, that the name on the front was to address someone rather than to hide something. In his dreams, there was a letter inside written in his own handwriting and it spilled every deep dark secret he was keeping. It would be addressed to Willie and for his eyes only. In his dreams, Willie would write his own letter in return, addressed to Alex.

He would never write that letter, he knew. It could get him killed.

He was snapped out of his reverie by a knock at his office door.

“Come,” he called, tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket.

The door opened and Willie let himself in, shutting it behind him, standing to attention.

“Ah, Willie,” Alex greeted, glad to see him as usual. “At ease, at ease. I was just thinking about you, actually. How’s the emergency lockdown coming?”

“Very good, sir,” Willie returned, smiling sweetly. “Most items have been squared away, as per the order.”

“Excellent,” Alex returned, beaming. He moved to stand behind his desk, closer to Willie but with a barrier between them. As he tried to speak, Willie began too. “I see–”

“I’ve come to tell you that–”

Both laughed, nerves buzzing between them. Alex knew what his were about – he could only guess and hope as to why Willie seemed a little on edge. The space between them felt charged with expectation, though what it was for Alex didn’t know.

“Sorry,” he said, returning Willie’s genuine but faltering smile, “you first, Lieutenant.”

There was a pause. Uncomfortable, excruciatingly anticipatory. The last remains of Willie’s smile crumbled and he swallowed before he said those few words that would tear down the last of Alex’s resolve and ruin him forever, haunting every dream and nightmare and waking moment. The words that would echo in his head whenever there was silence. The words he would fall asleep thinking about every night from that day forward.

“I’m afraid I’m leaving you, sir… At eighteen-hundred hours this evening.”

The world stilled. Alex wasn’t sure his heart was beating anymore. The part of their shared soul that was Willie’s was torn away from him. He came up blank.

“So soon?” was what came out of his mouth, weak, desperate, small. He hated himself for it, so tried for light-heartedness and gestured to the shining new gun on Willie’s belt. “That would explain your new service revolver. I don’t suppose they sent one for me, did they?”

“Only for front-line personnel at this stage, sir,” Willie said, a light but forced smile on his face.

“Of course. Yes.”

“It’s North Africa, sir,” Willie said. There was something like hope in his voice – it felt like he was asking Alex not to be too upset. Be proud, he was asking. Be happy. For me. “I’ll be able to have a proper swing at Fritz!”

“You make sure you give them a bloody nose,” Alex joked.

He answered Willie’s silent plea for his blessing, his reassurance, his pride, and he tried hard to be positive. He attempted a half-hearted fake punch, throwing it in Willie’s direction and was delighted when Willie responded (if only subtly) as if he’d been struck. Willie was grinning, looking happy, looking excited. Alex had to try and be excited for him too.

But still he said, “I shall miss you, Willie.”

Willie’s face fell again. Alex half-hoped his meaning hadn’t been easy to decipher. He knew what he meant, he knew why he’d said it, but it was a stupid and dangerous thing to say – a stupid and dangerous thing to hope for. Willie swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing, and Alex couldn’t read his expression. Though he was fairly certain it was something similar to his own.

He had always known that Willie felt it too, this forbidden and electric thing between them, whatever it was. This shared soul that was now breaking in two, never to be repaired, never to be recreated. It was this moment that Alex realised he and Willie could never have what they wanted.

So he backtracked.

“By which I mean, of course, that we shall miss you. And I know the Wilson House XI will certainly miss your cover drive.”

Willie’s smile came back too slowly. Alex knew his lie hadn’t come quick enough. He knew the unspoken words and unwritten messages were still there between them, heavy and quaking and full of fear, sadness, silence, and things neither wanted to put a name too. They danced around it, though they wouldn’t have to for much longer. Just a few more hours and whatever they had would be shredded forever as Willie said goodbye.

“Thank you, sir,” Willie said. “Well… if that’s all?”

Alex collected himself, simply looked at Willie for a moment before making himself reply. “Yes.”

Willie nodded, took it as his cue to leave. He pulled the door open and was on his way out of the room.

There was so much Alex wanted to say, so much he wanted to do. He wanted to spend a hundred more sleepless nights with Willie, working on secret projects and perfecting weapons. He wanted a thousand more late night conversations spoken in metaphors and riddles, deciphering each other, growing closer, learning more about their relationship than was permitted. He wanted a million more moments just to look at Willie’s face, to dream of what he couldn’t have.

All he wanted was to speak this silent truth that hung between them like a noose – damn him if it killed them both.

He called him back. “I say, Willie?”

Willie turned faster than lightning, hand rested on the doorknob but eyes trained on Alex like his face was all he ever wanted to see.

He tried to say all he wanted to, but knew he could never. It appeared he just had time for one last metaphor, a final riddle, one last waltz around their dire and doomed reality.

“It’s a bally shame we won’t get to finish the operation together,” he said.

Judging by the look on Willie’s face, the message was received loud and clear. Willie offered a smile, genuine but bittersweet. And without a word, he left the room.

Alex took the little envelope out of his pocket again, stared down at it. He had wanted to bury Operation William alongside Willie – they had both worked so hard but for nothing and it seemed only right they should rid the world of this failure together. But Alex would have to do it alone.

If only he could write that imaginary letter now, he thought. There was so much he could say, but not enough words in the English language to say it. There weren’t words to describe the abject loss he found himself steeped in, the gaping hole that had opened in his chest, the weeping wound that would never quite heal.

That night, alone, he went into the garden with the blueprints and the prototype bomb and he buried them both. With it, he buried all memory and evidence of himself and Willie, all their hard work, all they had built and experienced together.

He bottled those emotions to never let them out.

“He left that night,” Alex said to Julie, “six o’clock on the dot. The rest of our crew saw him off, waving from the doorway, but I stayed in my office. I told them I had paperwork to do.”

“Did you get to say goodbye?” Julie asked.

Alex sighed. “That conversation… well, that was our goodbye. The rest of the house was in chaos so I didn’t have another chance to speak with him alone, everyone needed either my assistance or his.”

Julie’s eyes were brimming with tears; Alex didn’t look at her, or his own eyes would have watered too. “So that was it? That was the last you saw of him?”

“Sort of. I watched him leave from my office window. He… he gave me one last wave from the gate then disappeared, off on his own adventure. Without me.”

“Don’t you wonder what happened to him?” Julie asked, shuffling closer to Alex on the sofa.

“All the time,” Alex breathed. “I looked for his name in every newspaper and every message I received after we lost contact but I never heard of him again.”

“Would you like me to Google him?” Julie suggested. She had explained this whole ‘Googling’ thing to him a while ago and from Alex’s understanding she simply had to type Willie’s name into the little search bar and all his information would come up in an instant. It was quite remarkable, really, and perhaps it would give him that last little bit of closure. And yet…

“No,” he said, “no, thank you, Julie. It’s quite alright. I… I have this version in my head of who he became and I shouldn’t like to spoil it. I shouldn’t like to taint what memory I have left of him, should his life have turned sour.”

Julie smiled softly. “What’s the image in your head like?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose I like to imagine that he was the best soldier out there on the North Africa front. He rose to a position of command – that was where he thrived, really, but good Lord was he good behind a gun. He was well-respected and kind and his men adored him. And I pray that he survived the war, that he made a living for himself, that he got everything he could have ever wanted in life. Really, I suppose… I suppose I just imagine him to be happy. That’s all I could have ever wanted for him. And if I were to find out he were not happy, well… no, I quite like the Willie I remember.”

Julie left a pause before she spoke again. Alex could see the cogs turning in her mind, could see her wondering if she should say whatever was on the tip of her tongue. He knew what was coming the moment she opened her mouth.

“Did you love him, Alex?”

Alex stood, crossed the room and stood by the window. His hands clasped behind his back, swagger stick gripped tightly, he looked outside, eyes trained on the gate. How many times had he stood here during the war and after, waiting for what he had lost to return, hoping in vain that by some miracle he could be granted his happiness? How many times had he wished for what he could not have? How many times had he replayed those final moments in his head, watching Willie wave goodbye?

It happened again as he stood there. It was as if a cloud came over him, throwing him back decades, putting him right back where he started. Willie stood by the gate, thick coat donned, hat atop his head, his bag slung over his shoulder. He waved up at Alex, and Alex smiled back.

“Yes,” he said at last, so quietly that he thought Julie may not have heard him. A great weight was lifted from his shoulders, decades of repression undermined in that one admission of his true feelings. It wasn’t enough – it never would be because he’d never said it to Willie – but acceptance was a start.

Slow as death, Willie – Alex’s version of him – ceased his waving and walked through the gate, disappearing into the darkness to where Alex would never follow. And for the first time after reliving that agonising memory, Alex let himself smile.

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Note

Din + 1, 48, & 57 (Jedi!Reader? Or at least force using bounty hunter)

1. "You can't always do everything on your own." & 48. "If we are going to work together than will you have at least more than a one word conversation with me?" "No." & "Let. Her. Go."

Ayyy, I'm a sucker for a force sensitive reader so here we are.

Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"You're really not going to let me help?" the Mandalorian's voice was a mixture of amused and concerned as he trailed after you. He was normally the quiet, stoic one and it proved to be an interesting turn of events that it was now his turn to be inquisitive. You momentarily ceased what you were doing, just long enough to give him an annoyed glance, "come on, we can work together.”

"Not interested," you stated firmly, deciding to lightly shove him back with a small flick of your hand. In truth, you were interested, you would have loved if the ragtag bounty hunter came alongside you, but you also didn't want to put him in any sort of danger. You'd grown fond of the mysterious man you've been working with for several months, but you had been operating solo for so long, you weren't sure what it was like to have a partner anymore. Those who had once surrounded you, including the one you used to call Master had all been killed when you were just a child.

"That's not fair!" he sounded and exasperated and you had to turn away, hiding your face to make sure he didn't see the little smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth, "you can't just use the force all willy-nilly!"

"You don't seem to mind when he does it," you looked down at the small child standing near the two of you, listening to everything intently. He cooed excitedly when you gave him a smile, waving his little hand at you.

"That's different-"

"Oh?" you turned around and raised an eyebrow at helmeted man, "how so?"

"It just is," he insisted, watching as you clipped your trusted old saber onto your belt, concealing it with the cloak, "you can't always do everything on your own."

You paused for a moment and gave him a curious glance; he'd repeated the last bit of wisdom your master had passed on before succumbing to death. It was an almost eerie moment and you let out a long sigh, "I know. But I also know that the last person who told me that is now dead. And I'm not putting you in danger too. Not you or the Child.”

"I can handle myself," he insisted and you knew he was right. He wasn't a skilled and highly renowned bounty hunter for no reason after all, "you know I can. We've been working together for months."

"I'm aware," you reminded him, staring at your feet for a moment before reaching up and tapping the side of his helmet, "and if I ever do need your help I will let you know. You'll be my first call."

"Y/N," he was getting frustrated with you but was trying to hide it. He understood why you were the way you were, but he also wanted you to let him in. He wasn't too different from you, you'd survived similar circumstances and he'd slowly learned to open back up to people, while you were struggling with that still. It had taken a long time for him to even learn your name, while he'd learned to trust you quickly, something in his gut telling him it was okay to let you in, “let me keep you safe. I care about you too, you know.”

“I know,” you said softly, giving him a soft smile. He always caused a feeling of butterflies in your stomach, no matter how hard you tried to repress them, they were always there, “I know, Din. But I can’t have you coming with me. This is my bounty, not yours. Besides, one of us should stay with the child.”

“Y/N-”

“No.”

“Will you at least listen to reason for once?” he carried on but he knew it was no use; you were as stubborn as he was, and once you made up your mind, you had made it up and there was no going back. Sometimes it led to a lot of arguing, but you never stayed mad for long. The back and forth, the give and take, was all part of your natural flow and it worked well.

“Nope.”

“Please...”

“No.”

“If we are going to work together will you at least more than a one word conversation with me?” he leaned against the metal wall of the ship, his arms crossed over his chest as he tried to reason with you. You grabbed a few blasters and put them into the holster you were wearing, giving yourself a pat down to make sure you had everything.

“No.”

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?” while he was being serious, there was a little tilt to the way he addressed you, and you were sure there a little smirk on his face under the helmet. You shrugged your shoulders and gave him a sweet as honey smile.

“Ever since I was young, my job, my training, everything, has required me to protect others. It’s the Jedi way, and although I am a Jedi no more, it’s ingrained in me,” you explained and he nodded, “and you’re supposed to protect the ones you love more than anything else.”

There was a pause as soon as he heard the word love spill from your lips. It wasn’t lost on you either as you stared at him through the helmet for a moment, right where his eyes would be. You only snapped back into attention when you felt a light tugging on the edge of your trousers, and you looked down to find the Child watching you closely. He lifted his arms up and couldn’t help but pick him up, giving him a tight hug before passing him to Din.

“Stay with your father, okay? I’ll be back before you know it,” you said quietly as Din took him from you, giving you a small nod as you turned around to head out. Just before stepping out into the light, you stopped one hand on the door to the ship, “I’ll be back soon, Din. Please don’t worry.”

“Okay,” it was a soft sound and you knew he didn’t really mean it. He would always worry when you were gone, no matter how safe of a situation it was. He watched you go before giving the Child a few small scratches on the head before setting him down in his makeshift bed, “I gotta go for a little bit. You know I have to go after her.”

The Child seemed to make a small noise of agreement before plopping down and watching as the Mandalorian started to gather up his own weapons, making sure everything was strapped to his body, “be good and we’ll both be back soon.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

It should have been an easy capture; everything about it suggested that it would be easy. The target hadn’t been known to be violent, he shouldn’t have had anyone around him, shouldn’t have had a cache of various weapons. But he did, all of it and then some. You had basically walked into a trap, and despite your strong and renewed connection with the force, you hadn’t been able to sense this. It was wrong, all wrong, and you hated to think that Din was right. He’d know immediately once he saw your bruised face; that was if you ever even made it back to him, or saw him again.

You’d held your own for a little while, managing to take down the majority of the guard, but the target himself was something else. He had been stronger and bigger than you, and for some reason he had gotten the jump on you.

“A Jedi bounty hunter,” he smirked as he trailed a finger along your cheek, making a small tutting sound at the cut that was already welling up underneath your eye, “my, my, my, how far from you have fallen from grace. What would your master say if they saw you now?”

“Don’t you dare talk about my master,” you hissed at him, pulling your face out of his grasp, “he was more of a man you could ever wish to be.”

“Couldn’t have been that good,” he grinned at you, “he didn’t even teach you how to defend yourself. But don’t worry sweetheart, it’s just you and me now, and you’re going to make it up to me.”

“I owe you nothing,” you glared at him.

“You’ve killed my men, stolen some valuable information, and destroyed my work space,” he brought his face close to yours, his lips inches from your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep him away. You needed to think of a plan, and quickly, if you had any chance of surviving, “you owe me.”

“I-”

“Let. Her. Go,” your eyes snapped open as you the familiar voice reached your ears. You looked up and found the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, a blaster in each hand, pointed directly at the man. You let out a small sigh of relief when you realized that you were safe, that you were going to be okay.

“I don’t think I will,” he said as he stepped away from you and took a few closer to the Mandalorian, “how adorable, you’ve come to rescue your little girlfriend. Now let’s make a deal...”

“Yes, let’s,” Din paused for just a moment, and you thought he was being serious. But before any other words were exchanged, the blasters were fired and the man crumpled to the ground, dead as the guards around him. The sound of the blaster shocked for a moment and you let a shaky breath as you realized what you had witnessed. You’d seen plenty of violence before, but it never made it any easier, it always got to you in one way or another.

Din came over immediately, putting his hands on either side of your face as he examined you to make sure you were okay. He made a small sound of disapproval as he looked at how hurt you were. Untying you was a quick process and you almost fell to the ground of the release. Letting out a shaky breath, you rubbed your raw wrists and gave him a thankful nod.

“I guess you were right,” you said quietly as you grabbed your saber and weapons that had been taken from you, “I guess I did need help after all. I just...couldn’t sense this. I dunno what happened...I just...”

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, “sometimes we all need help.”

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up,” you gave him a small smile, “I guess that would have been the end of me.”

“You would have found a way out,” he reassured you softly, “the force is strong with you.”

“I dunno about that anymore,” you frowned, wondering why it had failed you, or your own judgment had just been so clouded that you missed all the signs, “it was all due to you. Thank you.”

“You know what they say,” he said as he started to walk out, holding his hand out to you, beckoning for you to come along, “you always protect the ones you love the most.”

“Yes,” you said quietly as you followed after him, gently taking his hand in yours, “I suppose they do.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #star wars #star wars prompts #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

5 underrated Richard Donner movies you need to see

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Richard Donner will forever be remembered as the filmmaker who created the blueprint for the modern superhero blockbuster with 1978’s Superman starring Christopher Reeve.

Yet that doesn’t tell even half the story of the Bronx-born filmmaker’s brilliant filmography.

Donner was in his late 40s by the time Superman came along, having made a name for himself in Hollywood two years earlier, with 1976’s suitably terrifying The Omen.

Prior to that, he was a budding director making the transition from the small screen to the world of cinema. Donner worked on everything from Gilligan’s Island to The Twilight Zone. Even then, it was clear he was destined for bigger things though, as anyone who saw “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet”, the iconic episode of The Twilight Zone he directed, starring William Shatner, can attest.

While a disagreement with producers ultimately saw him walk away from Superman II, the 1980s saw Donner establish himself as an incredibly versatile big budget director capable of handling everything from the epic family adventure fun of The Goonies to the balancing act of action and comedy found within the buddy cop antics of Lethal Weapon.

It was a skillset that drew admiration from the very best in the movie industry, including Steven Spielberg who was among the first to pay tribute to Donner after learning he had passed away, aged 91.

“Dick had such a powerful command of his movies, and was so gifted across so many genres,” Spielberg, who worked with Donner on The Goonies, said.

“Being in his circle was akin to hanging out with your favourite coach, smartest professor, fiercest motivator, most endearing friend, staunchest ally, and – of course – the greatest Goonie of all.”

Donner may not have had the same impact in the 1990s and early 2000s but he still enjoyed major success with the Lethal Weapon franchise and as a producer with movies like Free Willy and X-Men.

More importantly, the other films he made during that period and in the years between some of his biggest hits remain well worth revisiting or seeking out for the first time – starting with these five.

Ladyhawke

Coming hot on the heels of The Goonies and two years prior to Lethal Weapon, Ladyhawke represented another major departure for Donner. A dark medieval fantasy, it centred on Rutger Hauer’s mysterious Captain Etienne Navarre and his female companion Lady Isabeau (Michelle Pfeiffer), a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run from a vengeful bishop who has placed a demonic curse on their heads. While Navarre transforms into a wolf by night, Isabeau exists as a Hawk by day. Teaming up with petty thief Philippe Gaston (Matthew Broderick) they embark on a quest to overthrow the evil bishop and break the spell.

Something of a passion project, Donner had attempted to get Ladyhawke off the ground several times before finally getting the green light from Warner Bros and 20th Century Fox in the mid ’80s. The film then suffered another setback when Kurt Russell, originally cast as Navarre, dropped out during rehearsals.

That ultimately proved a blessing in disguise with Hauer going on to deliver arguably his best performance since Blade Runner. Not everything about Ladyhawke works – Broderick’s character feels a little too close to Ferris Bueller while the runtime could be trimmed down – but it remains a beautifully realised fantasy epic, full of memorable action set pieces, stunning cinematography and a spellbinding turn from Pfeiffer.

A box office bomb upon release, Ladyhawke has stood the test of time too, garnering a cult following as an authentic and fresh take on the sword and sorcery formula.

Maverick

Maverick is the film Will Smith must have hoped Wild Wild West would be; a funny, clever action comedy based on a classic TV show. Coming in an era when most westerns were deadly serious, Donner’s film also felt like a breath of fresh air and benefited hugely from a masterful William Goldman script that was both witty and unpredictable.

The latest in a series of films featuring Donner’s muse-of-sorts, Mel Gibson, this time out Mel plays Bret Maverick, a brilliant card player and equally impressive con artist trying to collect enough money to earn a seat at a high-stakes poker game. Along the way he is forced to contend with a fellow scammer in the form of Jodie Foster’s Annabelle Bransford as well as lawman Marshal Zane Cooper, played by James Garner, who starred in the original TV series.

While the glut of cameos from country music stars and the likes of Danny Glover can be a little distracting, there’s something wonderfully charming about Maverick with Gibson, Foster and Garner all on top form and boasting an undeniable chemistry that helps keep things entertaining.

The climactic poker game which sees Maverick face off against Alfred Molina’s psychopathic Angel is also expertly handled by Donner, who cranks up the tension as Maverick reveals his final, decisive, hand with a slow-motion toss of the final card towards the camera. A critical and financial success, Maverick has been largely lost in the shuffle since its release but should be sought out.

Conspiracy Theory

There’s something strangely prescient about Conspiracy Theory given the current predilection for such thinking on the internet at large. One of Donner’s most inventive and intelligent outings alongside Gibson, this time out Mel plays Jerry Fletcher, a New York City cab driver with a penchant for paranoid conspiracy theories.

Jerry’s life takes a turn for the strange when he finds himself being targeted by a set of shady government goons led by Patrick Stewart’s Dr Jonas. He quickly realises one of the conspiracies he has been promoting in his weekly newsletter (this was the ‘90s) is based more in reality than he thought. The question is: which one?

An engrossing thriller featuring Donner’s trademark dashes of witty humour, Conspiracy Theory is bolstered significantly by the presence of the ever-reliable Julia Roberts as a government lawyer with a soft spot for Jerry. Despite a lengthy run time, Donner also keeps the action moving along at an engaging pace while Gibson’s performance is just the right side of manic to keep you rooting for him.

A first foray into the kind of deep state conspiracy thrillers that were commonplace in Hollywood at the time, the film also boasts some genuinely striking moments, not least the sequence where Jerry undergoes “psychotic testing” at the hands of Dr Jonas, which wouldn’t have looked out of place in A Clockwork Orange.

Though it was a hit with audiences, Conspiracy Theory earned mixed reviews but appears increasingly worthy of reappraisal.

Timeline

Some movies are big, dumb but lots of fun. Timeline sits firmly in that category despite what many naysayers would have you believe. It’s a brash, simplistic sci-fi flick to rival the likes of The Core and Geostorm and thoroughly entertaining to boot.

The fact that it features Gerard Butler, as well as the late, great, Paul Walker only adds to that sentiment.

Walker plays Chris Johnston who, along with Butler’s Andre Marek and a team of fellow archaeologists travel back in time through a wormhole to 14th century France to rescue their professor, Dr Edward Johnston (Billy Connolly), who just happens to be Walker’s character’s dad too.

Based on a book by Michael Crichton, Donner had been in the running to direct Jurassic Park a decade earlier and jumped at the chance to adapt Timeline for the big screen. While filming went off without a hitch, Donner repeatedly clashed with Paramount Pictures in post-production and was forced to re-cut the film three times in a development that saw the release date pushed by nearly a year. The resulting edit did not sit well with Crichton either, who disliked it so intensely he stopped licensing his work for a few years after.

Whether Donner’s original cut would have earned better reviews or Crichton’s approval remains to be seen but what remains of Timeline is still a well shot, enjoyable sci-fi yarn with some neat medieval action flourishes.

16 Blocks

Donner’s final film also ranks among his most unappreciated. On the surface, 16 Blocks sounds like the perfect fodder for a game of buddy cop movie bingo.

It stars Bruce Willis as Jack Mosley, a worn-out NYPD Detective with a drinking problem tasked with transporting Mos Def’s trial witness Eddie Bunker to court. Problems arise when some of Jack’s fellow officers arrive to kill Eddie and prevent him from testifying. Eager for redemption, Jack decides to take the would-be assassins on and get Eddie to court on time.

A formulaic enough premise, 16 Blocks is emboldened by the fact it plays out in real-time with Eddie required at the courthouse by no later than 10am. In this sense, Donner found himself in new territory with an action thriller that thrives on a unique sense of urgency.

While the filmmaker is no stranger to the action formula, this setup sees him imbue events with a renewed sense of chaos, as Jack and Eddie fight their way through armed adversaries, busy crowds and bustling traffic, all against a cacophony of shouts, car horns and gun blasts.

Ostensibly a chase movie on foot rather than four wheels, the action traverses 16 blocks in 118 minutes and rarely lets up for a second with Donner proving a dab hand at balancing the action with the engaging back-and-forth between Willis and Def who are both understated yet effective throughout.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Throw in the ever-watchable David Morse as the leader of the shady cops baying for Eddie’s blood and you have arguably one of the most underrated action thrillers of the early 2000s

The post 5 underrated Richard Donner movies you need to see appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3AA61tK

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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paleodictyoptera · 4 years

Text

I had a dream about a marketing salesman advertising snow.

~~~~~

I had a dream on the 20th of October 2020 (record keeping) that I found unusually profound, especially since it was, from at least one perspective, marketing-themed.

This portion of my run of dreams is the only one I really remember from this night, but its lead-in feels important. For whatever reason, I was in some crummy-looking bathroom from a nightmare and had trouble finding a stall I was comfortable with taking a dump in. I've had this kind of confusing-bathroom nightmare before, which is something I only remembered after the fact.

I walk into a stalled portion of the bathroom, and the style of the architecture shifts like I’m in an experimental design, covered in silver foil like the outside of a ventilation shaft. As I round a corner,(the floor plan is the size of a small room if you take all the sq ft together) I get ready to take a dump on what looks the most like a potty. I believe it was labeled, "intake valve."

Before I let loose, a man walks out of an alcove in the ductwork and introduces himself as Mirushi Hiruchi, and this was his Hiruchi machine. I told him straight up, desperate as a dog, "Hi, I have no idea how to use your machine." He then leads me down a hallway which wasn't there before (dream logic, bruh) and either gives me a speech that my brain wrote out and gave accompanying images with, or a translucent brochure where the images scroll by automatically, and which my brain read out loud in his voice. Again, dream logic bruh.

He said that this particular Hiruchi machine was in the possession of his dear friend Mōshi, who was the inventor of the company's trucks. I think the next part of his speech was about what his company does, but I don't honestly remember the general, but I do know that currently, he was trying to make marketable snowballs. And he had found a place with practically ideal conditions for snowballs; the snow fields of Ashton(I don't know about state or province dude, this was the last thing on my mind, Ihadtotakeacrap, but it was like, stuck in my butt from holding it). Here was an image of a field of snow with occasional bits of plants and twigs sticking out, bathed in the light of a sunset or sunrise. My brain could feel the denseness of this snowfield. He said something about how the sunshine was just right as to make material for the perfect snowball, but this too was a bit fuzzy. Maybe it melts the snow a little but not too much? I dunno. I got Canada or Northern State vibes, but maybe just because they’re stereotyped with that.

He then told me that if I wanted to help spread the word, he would appreciate it, and to tell my family, friends, and neighbors that "The snowfields of Ashton are known for their remarkably heavy and round snowballs.” This was paired with an image of a lady completely buried in warm clothing, puffy insulated jacket and tufted beanie included, holding what might be close to a pound of snow within her hands. These particular clumps weren’t rounded into snowballs, but I don’t know if you can even hold that much snow without at least some of it falling apart; I’m from a desert, so my snow experience is limited to say the least.

This all happened as I was in the hallway that had appeared, and not moving very much for some reason, even though I felt it in my gut the need to poop? Dream logic again. He thanked me and left back down the hallway. Next thing I know, I woke up with a turd in my butt and proceeded to the bathroom. After I had recovered from this plausible-yet-off-the-walls dream, I collected the majority of this experience while I was on the toilet and accidentally on purpose in the bath. I was so focused on this I couldn’t take a crap and proceeded into the bath to try and wash my butthole clean. Even though I used toilet paper? Dream lo- wait, this was reality.

I feel… many things right now. Things like, "This has SCP energy," or "This man is like Willy Wonka but Japanese and not specifically targeted at candy making, because if he is willing to merchandise snowballs he's willing to sell anything, like actual, crystallized joy." I spun up a whole bunch of theories and ideas about what the heck had happened. Was I just hijacked by a viral memetic entity? I sure feel unusually compelled to share about the heavy snow fields of Ashton and their perfect snowballs. Did someone in Japan hack into the dreamscape and is now using it for marketing purposes? I don't kNOW, man.

But this feels important, somehow, and so would you kindly spread the word, about how the snowfields of Ashton are known for their remarkably heavy and round snowballs? It’s a surreal meme in its own right, so it can spread, and if it’s true, bruuuhhhhhh...

~~~~~

Ashton County, Virginia; my brain just decided to say that's where it was. After a little research, I've found two places that could be this place: Ashburn, Virginia; and Ashton, West Virginia. Intriguingly, both are right next to a river and exist at nearly the same latitude. Both are on the fringe of being a real place; Ashburn being a CDP and Ashton an unincorporated community, so understandable why it was hard to specify.

I’ve had experiences with the spirit world and mindscape before, but none this catastrophically and simultaneously mundane and profound; partly because I’ve rarely had this level of verification and solidity before, and never involving a real location on Earth. I want to go see the snow fields of Ashton, or possibly Ashburn, and play in them, and have a real, splendid snowball fight. I grew up in the Valley down here in AZ, which is not known for their unusually ideal snow fields, but for their saguaro cacti and dust-colored everything, so this speaks to me more than others.

I must (again?) emphasize how utterly used I feel in this experience, but like, used for a greater good or at least a good purpose? It’s like encountering a mildly benevolent entity who only slightly inconveniences you to achieve their ends. Bear in mind this is the first post I’ve ever made on Tumblr, so it has had the power to send me forth headfirst into a website I have heard described as cursed, in an attempt to bring remarkable, marketable joy to others.

P.S. I woke up at ~4:30 with this dream and have spent the last two hours collating this haphazard post, so, there’s that. I don’t feel particularly tired after this, so if Mr. Hiruchi is selling, I might have bought some of his well-being juice.

#benevolent god #dream logic #dreamlogic #bonehurtingjuice #butlike #bonehealingjuice

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cactiem · 5 years

Text

Everyone Leaves (Part 1)

Pairing: Marcus Lopez x Reader

Requested: Nope

Summary: Thinking Marcus is dead, you do a stupid thing only to find out he’s not actually dead.

GIF Not Mine

Part 1 -> Part 2

It was no secret that if anyone in the camp disappears it wasn’t by accident. They were murdered by, what you and Marcus dubbed him as, the camp asshole. Everyone knew that he was the self proclaimed leader of your little camp, if you can even call it that, and that whenever you went out scavenging for food or whatever he’d take it off you. You also knew that he didn’t like Marcus so you wouldn’t put it past him to do something to him.

This was why you were stood in the shadows, watching the camp asshole stumble about drunkenly and waiting for the right moment, a knife sitting comfortably in your grip. It wasn’t just any knife though, it was one that had intricate detailing on the handle, one that you and Marcus had found together. You had fallen in love with it when your eyes first landed on it, not understanding why someone would throw out such a beautiful piece. You put it back though not wanting it to end up in the wrong hands. What you didn’t know was that Marcus took it and hid it, giving it to you later on that night when the two of you were alone.

You looked at the knife in your hand again. You knew it was a bad idea and knew that Marcus would hate it but he wasn’t here. The only person you had in your life wasn’t here. You were all alone because of the camp asshole and he wasn’t going to get away with it. Not again.

As you were about to execute your plan you heard a noise to the side of you, like someone was there, making you stop walking any further. Stepping closer to that direction you see that there was two guys there, one of which held a gun aiming it at your target and the other was Marcus. A frown etched onto your face, confused as to why Marcus was here and with a random guy who was wearing nice clothes. You didn’t have a chance to go up to them as a shout interrupted, gaining both yours and Marcus's attention.

He was stalking your way, having seen the glint of your knife he was going towards you more making Marcus finally notice you, giving you a look of confusion. No one could say anything as you all started running to try and get away from the man that was currently chasing you. You had split up from Marcus and his friend but heard them in trouble so you went back for them.

When you got there he was towering over Marcus's friend, Marcus was no where to be seen. Without hesitation you swung the knife into his neck. He turned around slowly, bringing his hand to his neck and then removing it, seeing the blood. Everyone, including you, was shocked by what you just did. He was about to lunge at you when Marcus yanked the knife out of his neck making him collapse onto the ground.

A blanket of silence covered the three of you. You all looked at the body bleeding out before you before looking at each other. "Are you okay?" Marcus asked, talking a step towards you. He was about to cup your cheek when you moved out of his reach. "Y/N?"

"I- I thought you were dead. I thought he- I thought he killed you." You rambled on. "You disappeared without saying anything and I thought he killed you."

"Look, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-" Marcus started before getting interrupted by you.

"Where were you?" You asked him and he was about to answer but was stopped by Willie, silently shaking his head to tell him no. You saw him do that which made the worry you had turn into you being pissed off.

"I- I can’t tell you that." Marcus said, his voice barely above a whisper. You hastily wiped away the stray tear that fell. He made a move to grab your hand which made you take another step away from him.

"Of course you can’t." You scoffed. "You know what? You enjoy it with your new best friend here and this fancy place, wherever it is. Forget about me because everyone else does, everyone else leaves." You and Marcus just looked at each other in silence. There was so much both you wanted to say to each other but nothing was being said so you decided to go, not before adding something else, a goodbye if you will. "Have a nice life Marcus." You mumbled and started walking away.

"Y/N, wait!" Marcus called after you, about to chase after you only to get stopped by Willie.

"Just let your girlfriend go." He told him.

"She’s not my girlfriend." Marcus replied.

"Whatever, man, I don’t care. Let’s just clean this up and go back to the school." Willie said, starting to clean up the mess that was made and leaving Marcus to stare at the spot you were just at, cursing to himself at everything that just happened.

A/N: my first Deadly Class imagine! I love this show and there’s only been one episode 😂 anyway I forgot what the guy at the camps name is so I just called him an asshole because, well he is 😂

I also have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested 😊

Tag List (Still Open): @mayaslifeinabox @lunarmoonwolf @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey

#marcus lopez imagine #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez #marcus lopez arguello #deadly class imagine #deadly class

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renee-writer · 4 years

Text

Learning To Love Chapter 138 The Mission

The Team exits the helicopter two klicks away from the target location. They immediately adjust their packs and double time it towards the target. Marcus takes point and his Team follows.

Amy and Grace give John Mark a bath around the same time. The poor baby screams throughout the ordeal. He quiets when his Aunt Grace diapers and tightly swattles him. His Momny Amy gives him a bottle, burbs him, and lays him down in the bassinet besides her and Willy's bed. When the baby is asleep, his Mommy Amy and Aunt Grace sit down to pray for his daddy, Uncle Daniel, and the others.

The approach the target house at 0400, Iraqi time. They are using force entry, throwing flash bang grenades ahead of them to distort everyone in the house. Michael aka Cowboy, takes point and leads them in.

They had easily blow open the door showing Seheed isn't security conscious. Cowboy throws more flash bang grenades ahead of them. Tex head to his 3 and Boss to his 9. The others follow, scanning for threats.

"Moving!" They call out.

"Clear." Through the first room. At this point, they split up. Cowboy, Tex, and Chief clear the next room while Boss, Amiga, and Red clear the one behind it. When the downstairs is cleared, Boss gestures for his Team to head upstairs.

Cowboy lobes two more flash bang grenades up the stairs ahead of them. Their is a very distinct cry, the cry of a newborn. This freezes all the new fathers for half a second. They know that a very complicated mission just got more complicated.

The baby sleeps for three hours before waking up fussing. Amy and Grace were sitting in the living room talking and praying when the baby starts to fuss. Amy jumps right up and goes to get him. Her instant reaction causes Grace to smile.

"It is okay John Mark, Mommy Amy is here." She coos to him, lifting him out of the bassinet and into her arms. He quiets at the sound of her voice. She changes his diaper and then hands him to his Aunt Grace so she can make him a bottle.

Grace gives it to him. As she cradles the tiny baby, she can't help imagining holding her and Daniel's baby in her arms six months from now.

"It is an amazing feeling, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. It is a true shame that Shelby is missing this."

"It is. Her decision."

"Ainsely said that Shelby was her first client to have ever done that." Amy shakes her head. She can't understand it.

The Team quickly run up the stairs. They split off, Cowboy, Tex, and Chief enter a room filled with women and children.

"Stay where you are." Cowboy orders them in Arabic. He covers them while Tex and Chief quickly clear them. They check for weapons and any male of military age that may be hidden among them. After determining it is just women and children, including the newborn they had heard, Cowboy asks them about the location of Seheed.

"Not here. Not here!" They keep telling him.

Boss, Amigo, and Red do the same in the other rooms. They don't find Saheed or any other MAM.

"He is here. I can feel it." Marcus tells his Team as they gather back together in the hall.

"I agree. Let's clear the whole house. Check for hidden rooms." Michael suggests.

"Agreed." They make sure all the women and children are in one room and begin to knock on walls and pull up carpet.

"Got something." Liam reports 30 minutes later. He had been knocking on the ceiling, looking for any hidden spots. He pulls down a hiddrn door and staircase he had found. Willy turns to cover his and Marcus' six as they charge up the attic. Cowboy throws another flash bang grenade up ahead of them. They come up the stairs, weapons hot, scanning in front of them.

They discover their quary hiding behind a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. Cowboy and Boss pull him out, quickly frisk him, and then place him on the floor, secured with plastic cuffs on his waists and ankles.

"Hiding up here leaving the women and children unprotected." Cowboy says with a sneer. Seheed just glares at him.

"Clear the room. Search for any records." Boss instructs. He sits beside their prisoner and begins to question him.

"Do you want me to spend the night?" Grace asks Amy.

"You have to work tomorrow and this little guy will be up every couple of hours."

"Well, I have to get used to that." She replies placing her hand on her stomach.

"Yes, but with your little one you will be on maternity leave. It is okay Grace. Thank you but we will be fine."

"If you are sure. If you need me, call."

"I will thanks. I love you."

"I love you too."

They find tons of papers and electronic intercepts. They gather them up to take with them. While they are searching the house, Marcus tries to get Seheed to speak with him. He gets nothing but knows the Egyptian's will.

Four hours after entering the house, they are ready to leave. They bag up all the records and Marcus and Michael carry the prisioner down. Willy goes before them, scanning for threats.

They get down to the front room they had first entered, where all the women and children are. A woman steps out. A wife or elder daughter, she holds the newborn baby girl to her chest with a AK-47 in her other hand. Willy doesn't hesitate. He has no time too. She has the gun pointed at him. He puts a bullet between her eyes. As she falls, her grip loosens on the baby. Daniel steps out and catches her. They stand in the silence after the shot.

"Take the baby up the the others Chief. Cover him Tex." Marcus tells him. Willy goes first. He enters the room where the women and children still huddle. He enters gun first. Daniel follows, holding his own gun with the hand not holding the hysterical baby.

They find the others cowering on the bed in the room. They aren't a threat. Daniel places the baby in the arms of one of the woman and they exit. Meanwhile, Marcus and the others take several pictures of the dead woman and search her, hoping to make an ID. When Daniel and Willy rejoin them, Marcus calls the helicopter back in and taken the records and their prisoner, they leave the house.

"You did what you had to do." Marcus tells Willy as they sit on the Chinook heading heading to the closest base to drop their prisoner off. Daniel and Liam sit in another area going over the intel they had retrieved. Jose and Michael are still trying to get info out of the prisoner

"I know." Willy replies. He does know. She was a threat. But it didn't help him get the sight of the newborn baby she was using as a shield, out of his head. He has seen babies and children used as shields before. But, having a newborn at home himself made an emotional difference. He knows he will see that little girl and her psychotic mother star in his nightmares.

"We got something Boss." Liam announces. Marcus and Willy make there way towards them.

"What is it?"

"We found a connection between our friend Seheed and ISIS," Daniel announces, "Seems he has been their momey man since 2008."

"So ISIS is behind all the attacks?"

"Yes, the prove is right here." Liam answers

"Any word of an impending attack."

"Not yet. But we are still looking." Daniel answers.

"Good job. Keep looking. I am going to have another crack at Seheed." Marcus says. They nod and turn back to the intel."

"We know you are working with ISIS." Marcus tells him in Arabic. "We will find out any more secrets you are keeping. My guys are the best. Anything they can't find, the CIA and FBI and Homeland Security will."

Seheed responds with very colorful curses

"I am really trying to help you here. We will be dropping you off at Liberty Base. From there you will be heading to Egypt." His eyes get fairly large at this news. "Yes, thought that would get your attention. The more you tell us, the easier it will be. Give it some thought." Marcus stands, gesturing for his man to do the same. He knows time alone to think about the Egyptian's can only help.

#my writing #my ocs #learning to love #the mission #the military one

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cyberneticlagomorph · 5 years

Text

Red Button

"Vampires aren't real."

At least, that's what they tell people. Like the sick, bloodthirsty masses tearing each other apart in the street are just figments of a collective imagination.

As if you aren't one of them.

They'd brought you in when you were young, so young that you could lie and say that you didn't remember anything before then. Before them. But you'd be lying.

But you don't lie.

And you don't forget.

You can't. That'd be a luxury, reserved for your betters, and those you hunt.

You are special, an oddity born of a disease meant to separate the weak from the strong. Manmade in a lab somewhere far away, where the creators sit in their ivory towers and watch as the world burns and they hoard all the fire extinguishers.

You were a child when they found you, hiding in some filthy hovel full of diseased freaks that dared call themselves "vampires". Nothing more than arrogant humans trying to sew silver linings onto clouds full of acid rain. But not you. No, not you.

There was something wrong with your strain, wrong with you, that made you more like the demons of olde. There was something so fascinating and strange about you that the team of Bloodhounds that found you that night decided to spare your life, instead of ending it right there.

They took you back to the scientists that made them, made the master strain of your disease, and thus, made you. They ran their tests on you, day after day, and found you quite remarkable, saying that your "mutation" was unlike anything they'd ever seen. That you were unlike anything they'd ever seen. You were too precious, too rare to be killed, so they found a use for you in time. They taught you how to hunt, and how to kill. You took to your training like a duck to water, learning how to recognize heartbeats and memorize the scents of your targets, your prey. They made you into a weapon of exceptional lethality.

To date, you are best assassin the Conglomerate has ever had, and you have never lost your prey once.

You are the one they call in when all other methods are exhausted and yet the target is somehow still alive.

A walking "red button" with two rows of teeth and no fear of death.

Your designation is Lazarus 414379, code name "Charon". You like to call yourself "Mira", a name that used to belong to a little girl a long long time ago. But none of that matters now. No one speaks to you unless it's to give you a mission, and even then you are referred to as just your designation or callsign. But again, none of that matters. You are here to end lives, not make friends. Weapons don't need names, the same way they don't forget, and don't lie.

You aren't surprised to have a file forced into your hands first thing in the morning, just like you aren't surprised to read that your newest target is someone that's managed to dodge every agent the Reclamations Unit has thrown at him. You are no stranger to these cases, labrats that scuttle back onto the filthy streets they'd come from, only now they're carrying some important piece of Conglomerate tech that still needs testing. So they have to be captured and brought back. You aren't fond of the Reclamations Unit, their ways are roundabout and sloppy, spending precious resources trying to keep ungrateful filth alive when there are countless other labrats to be tested on.

But this file is different somehow, with page after page of blacked out text. Things beyond classified. None of that is any of your business, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't just a little curious about what made subject 7886 so interesting. What nonclassified information on him there is, you read with fervor. A lot of it borders on fantastic or nonsensical but cliffnotes mentioning unstable genetic modifications and something called "project Merlin" steal your attention, almost as much as the bolded words stating that any agents sent after him have not returned alive. He is suspected of destroying Lazarus Facility Delta, and the theft of Conglomerate property including but not limited to several hundred test subjects, FERA hybrids, dozens of files worth of classified information, and several things too far above your pay grade for you to know.

That was days ago, weeks almost. Until now you've been biding your time, surveying the target's place of work. Apparently nobody can find out where he lives. Typical. Typical Reclamations Unit halfassery at work. You've done your best to try and find out where he lives so you can corner him somewhere quiet and put a bullet in his skulk before anyone can notice, but it's like this guy just magically appears wherever he needs to be and then vanishes just as quickly. It doesn't make any sense. You've tossed around theories of him using the sewers and old city infrastructure to scuttle around unseen, but you'd be able to smell that if it were true. He's always gone before you can corner him, or surrounded by too many people for you to get a clear shot. It's like this guy knows how to dodge assassins in his everyday life, and judging by his file, you wouldn't be surprised.

Since the easy way is thusly inaccessible to you, you'll have to do this the hard way. The messy way. The "shoot this bastard in public and make it look like a hatecrime" way. You hate the hard way, it's sloppy and much too juvenile for your tastes. But it's not like you have any other choice. So you show up at his little hovel of a bar one night during the dinner rush, covered in a thin layer of kevlar, and enough guns to take out a small country.

It doesn't smell right here, the patrons don't smell right either. Their heartbeats are wrong, or gone entirely. This place makes you feel... uneasy, something you aren't used to feeling. Your target is behind the bar. He's... weirder in person, to say the least. This whole place is weird, you don't trust it or the patrons. They're much too cheerful, munching on plates of stirfried weeds and mushrooms, downing tankards of jewel-hued alcohol, or playing video games on the odd little cabinets tucked away in one corner. There are strange symbols on the floor that you write off as "tasteful graffiti" or some trashy hipster appropriation of a mandala. You find a seat at the bar next to an absurdly tiny old man with the most extravagant beard you've ever seen. He's nursing a mug of what might be tea and sketching in a notepad, long elegant strokes depicting what might be architecture of somekind. He catches you staring and smiles a preposterously warm smile.

"Silverware," he whispers, "a future gift for our beloved barkeep here, but shh don't tell him." he chortles, mostly to himself, and flips the page when your target appears to top off his tea. They both share a sly look as your target slides the old man a jar of something golden and a spoon. You ignore the other guy from then on, locking your eyes on the target. His heartbeat sounds wrong, doubled somehow. He smells strange, like soil and growing things, but also like dry bones and warm machinery. Beneath that you can smell his blood and the nose-singeing radioactive tang that comes with it. So many of the people here share that smell. What is it? Are they sick? Some new Conglomerate affliction you aren't privy to? Doesn't matter, really, chances are it won't infect you. Whatever it is. Your target swings back around, toweling off a damp glass as he grins at you. His teeth are almost as sharp as yours, caging a pair of black tongues that make you grimace inwardly.

"What can I get ya?" he chirps, obviously in some kind of a good mood. Pity what you're about to do then. The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion. You draw your weapon, his eyes widen, someone close to you screams. The other bartender, the girl that fills in when your target isn't here, shoves him aside as you pull the trigger. Glass shatters and the floor is bathed in spilled alcohol. All hell breaks loose as the symbols on the floor vanish and the air is suddenly filled with that radioactive tang. The small man leaps for you, trying to wrestle your gun away. You shoot him in the chest and watch him crumple like a dropped toy. Your target is unscathed, his coworker is not, but... she isn't dead. She's just wrong.

There isn't any blood, any gore, just... Nothing. Just empty darkness where splattered gray matter and vicera should be. Even as this wrong thing rattles like dry bones and claws her way to her feet, you feel something cold and foreign slither down your spine. Fear. Fear is for prey when it is cornered. You steel yourself and squeeze off another shot before the glint of metal in the guttering overhead light catches your eye. The guy you'd shot just moments ago, the really short one, was back on his feet, wielding an axe as if you'd just punched him as opposed to put a bullet in his chest. He brings the axe down on your shoulder before you have time to react. The crunch of metal on bone is forever seared into your memory.

As the axe bites through kevlar and into your shoulder you scream, an inhuman caterwaul that takes out what little glassware your bullets missed. The sensation of metal grating against bone and flesh is beyond agonizing. You twist around, find your assailant, and put a bullet in his skull this time. You empty the rest of the clip into his torso. He doesn't get up this time, and neither does the girl, not after you turn her skull into powder. The bar is in chaos, what few people that haven't fled are now cowering under tables with wide eyes. You take out a semi-automatic and spray bullets willy-nilly, not caring who you hit. Your target dissolves into a cloud of blue fireflies as you turn the gun on him and for a moment you are awestruck. Until a wildcat with glowing green eyes lunges at you, only to go down in a hail of bullets.

Now it's your target's turn to scream. He throws himself at you like an idiot, but his body changes midair into a massive snake with glittering crystal scales so sharp they leave furrows in the floor. He stinks now, that same radioactive reek, but a hundredfold. You watch him coil around the bloody cat, emptying clip after clip into his hide but only a lucky few manage to do the job. He flails in pain and his tail comes at you at lightspeed, hitting you square in the chest, knocking you out the front window. As you struggle to your feet you watch him revert back to his "normal" self and squeeze off a paltry few shots before he vanishes in a bright flash and the sound of fucking fairy bells. As sirens roar up the street, you bolt, the stench of that place forever burned in your nostrils.

Your arm is hanging by a string of gristle, your shoulder shattered, broken, bleeding as you find a place to hide as cops swarm the ruined bar. You halfway collapse in a nearby alley, wheezing through punctured lungs and a glass-riddled throat. If you were human you'd be going into shock right now, but you aren't, you're just pissed as fuck that your prey got away. That's never happened before, none of this has happened before. What the fuck was any of that?? Just what exactly were you up against.

A homeless man lingers near the mouth of the alley, you can hear the timid thrum of his heartbeat and smell his stink. It coats your tongue worse than the blood and bile welling up in your mouth. You spit on the ground as he approaches, not listening to whatever inane mumbling he's making. He comes within reach and you strike with more precision than you should be capable in your condition. The skin of his throat gives way beneath your teeth, he tastes like sweat and unwashed skin but as his veins are shredded beneath your jaws and the metallic heat of his blood fills your waiting maw, you can't bring yourself to care. He tries to flail and panic, but you just clamp down and glut yourself until he goes still.

Your body is riddled with thousands upon thousands of nano machines that boost your already remarkable healing abilities and discourage the spontaneous growth of cancer, at the expense of large quantities of protein. You drink blood daily so it's not like you're deficient, but at times like this one can't be too careful. So after you're finished with the old man you tear off what's left of your arm and eat the entire thing. Wounds itch and burn as they heal, some sealing around bits of shrapnel and glass, broken bones set wrong, and your arm starts to grow back in an incredibly barbaric way. In the end, that little snack isn't enough to repair an entire missing limb so you have to eat the rest of the old man. His vile, bloodless flesh tastes horrendous, but it fixes you so you don't complain. Mouthful by mouthful, you start to feel like your old self again.

By the time you're done, the cruel sun has set. Your meal is nothing more than a bloody smear on the pavement and a pile of rancid smelling clothes. Between the specialized nanos in your gut and your 'natural' capabilities, there's is very little you can't digest, but you draw the line at clothes. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that your prey managed to slip away from you. But you have his scent now, and there is hunting to be done.

#ic #action post #mira #payback #blood #gore #death #shooting #ask to tag #seriously ask to tag #proceed with caution #cannibalism #self cannibalism #personals dnr

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la-knight · 5 years

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Books I Read in 2016_::_The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy by Nikki Loftin

“When my mom was alive, she read me stories every night.

‘Use your imagination, Lorelei,’ she’d say, ‘and your whole life can be a fairy tale.”

I wanted that to be true. But I should have paid more attention to the fairy tales.”

When Lorelei’s old school mysteriously burns down, a new one appears practically overnight: Splendid Academy. Rock-climbing walls on the playground and golden bowls of candy on every desk? Gourmet meals in the cafeteria, served by waiters? Optional homework and two recess periods a day? It’s every kids’s dream.

But Lorelei and her new friend Andrew are pretty sure it’s too good to be true. Together they uncover a sinister mystery, one with their teacher, the beautiful Ms. Morrigan, at the very center. Then Andrew disappears. Lorelei has to save him, even if that means facing a past she’d like to forget – and taking on a teacher who’s a real witch.

What Lorelei and Andrew discover chills their bones – and might even pick them clean!

1.85/5 stars

So I read this book a while ago, and the first time I read it, I really liked it. Not love, but I enjoyed it just fine. I’m not snobby about the target age of my reading material: I love Dragons Love Tacos as much as I love Red Queen as much as I love The Night Circus as much as I love Aru Shah and the End of Time. And I read The Sinister Sweetness of Splendid Academy at a dark time in my life (I have many) when my depression went undiagnosed and therefore untreated and I couldn’t handle much in the way of length or high-high stakes or grimdark or anything like that. So this book was perfect because it had stakes but it’s easier to care about one kid’s life than about, say, the war for the Iron Throne on top of all your faves possibly getting killed by ice demons or zombies. And I enjoyed this book.

More recently, I’ve reread it, and…well, I didn’t love it or like it as much as I had the first time. I didn’t hate it, but I definitely didn’t love it.

People talk about purity culture, which is hecka toxic, and I’m not here for that (I don’t judge people’s reading material unless it’s something drastic, like shouting from the rooftops how much they enjoyed Mein Kampf because, um, yikes). If there’s a book that I’ve heard is problematic, I may or may not read it for myself, depending on the nature of the issues and whatever. No media is perfect, it’s a balancing act. If I’m titchy about the person getting my money, I’ll buy that book secondhand so they don’t get any of my money (this is what I did with Stephenie Meyer, Suzanne Collins, Cassandra Clare, Anne Rice, James Dashner, & JK Rowling, for example). Not difficult to do. The obsession with consuming so-called “pure media” can be super bad and result in things like anon harassment or even death threats. I’ve seen this happen. On the flip side, the push against both problematic content and purity culture, when dealt with rationally, has led to some really great discussions regarding media analysis and critical thinking with regard to story consumption, and that’s great.

Why is this relevant?

So I reread Splendid Academy after some exposure to articles, essays, blog posts, and tumblr posts about several topics - including the pervasiveness and lethality of fat-shaming (among other things, like the silencing and condemnation by society of justified female anger). I did not go looking for these posts, they just trickled into the fringe of my social awareness as a result of using social media. I’d read them, reblogged and retweeted them, but I didn’t consciously try to apply those posts to Splendid Academy when I reread it. But this time through, the book made me super uncomfortable, although at first I didn’t quite understand why. I had to sit and, as they say, “think muh thoughts” all the way through a few times before I figured out what was bothering me.

The very basic dual premises of this book are sexist and fat-phobic. Now, I’m fat. There’s a lot of stigma around being fat. I mean, people have died of treatable, not-fat-related medical ailments because their doctor refused to look for those things, falling back on “just lose some weight and you’ll be fine” instead - and then boom, it’s something like cancer (which is not exacerbated by being fat) and the person dies.

(I am not Google. You can Google this information if you really want to. It’s all over Tumblr, Twitter, and Google. Don’t bother me about it)

The sinister nature of Splendid Academy is that its run by three witches fattening up all the kids to be eaten. Typical “Hansel and Gretel” motif, right? Except! In “Hansel and Gretel,” the kids are literally starving when they come upon a food source, an adult tells them to eat and eat and eat (it’s not their idea), and Hansel ends up locked in a cage by the witch and force-fed because the witch* threatens to kill his sister if he doesn’t. A lot of fairy tales (original ones in Grimms collections and by Andersen and whatnot, I mean) have morals of various types. The moral of “Hansel & Gretel” is not “gluttony should be punishable by death” or “being fat makes you a worthless human and it’s why bad things happen to you.”

(*By the way, the stereotypical long-nosed warty witch who eats Christian children is an anti-Semitic caricature of Jewish women and it’s gross; luckily the author doesn’t do that)

But in this book, the kids almost seem to bring their imminent demise on themselves by eating too much junk food. Sort of like how the narration says Augustus Gloop ended up turned into semi-sentient fudge in Charlie & the Chocolate Factory because he was a greedy glutton and not because Willy Wonka is a colonizing* sociopath who should never be in charge of minors.

(*Three words: Fucking. Oompa. Loompas.)

All but one of the kids attending Splendid Academy are snackers. These twelve- and thirteen-year-olds will snack on Skittles or sunflower seeds or whatever while they do homework or school work. They’re fed gourmet breakfasts and lunches in the school cafeteria every day. The food is enchanted, of course, to be highly addictive and also enchanted so that it transforms immediately into fat, apparently? Bypassing the stomach entirely, I guess, because the kids never get full and literally just eat all day every day that they’re in school.

Wait, you say. If the food is enchanted, it’s not the kids’ fault they’re eating it. That’s not fat-phobic at all. What?

I said all but one kid has fallen for these magical machinations. One boy (not our protagonist Lorelei, but her friend Andrew) is basically immune to the call of the candy. If the One Ring of Power was candy, he’d be movie!Faramir and Lorelei would be Frodo. And why is he immune? Because he’s got a fairy godmother? He’s magical himself? He’s a total nerd and studied mythology and knows how to spot ensorcelled edibles a mile away?

Nah. It’s cuz he went to fat camp.

Y’all can’t see my face right now.

Now, to be fair, apparently Andrew was a compulsive eater and needed some kind of intervention because he was out of control (which, also being fair, is a ridiculous and tired trope about how fat people can’t control themselves around food and we need to kill that with fire and not spoon-feed the idea to tweens, thanks). But even with the blegh back story of compulsive eater, YOU DON’T SEND A TWELVE-YEAR-OLD TO FAT CAMP, OHMIGAWD. Unless he’s got PICA (that mental illness where you compulsively eat dangerous or non-food shit like glass or soap or carpet lint) or whatever, he’s not compulsively eating because he’s the next Augustus Gloop and he’s a spoiled brat who hates the word “no.” I used to be a compulsive eater as a kid (which is oddly not how I got fat). I developed the habit if “eating my feelings” because I WAS SUICIDAL AND FOOD WAS THE ONLY THING THAT EVEN HELPED A LITTLE BIT.

And you know what helped me curb my compulsive eating when my depression got really bad? It wasn’t the taunting about being fat or my mom telling me I needed to go on a diet or my dad asking me constantly if I really shouldn’t put back that second cheese stick or applesauce cup. What really helped me stop compulsively eating WAS TREATING MY FREAKING DEPRESSION.

Ahem. However, the book does do one thing sort of right with this kid - because he HAS UNTREATED DEPRESSION went to actual therapy (for the compulsive eating specifically and not anything else that might be wrong) while shipped off to fat-person exile because his parents are horrible people, he can recognize “trigger foods”* - the foods that he would compulsively eat and would make him overeat when he was upset, foods he now avoids. They got that part right. But it also means he’s more selective about what he eats (which is fine) and has more self-control than the other kids (um…), self-control he learned thanks to an entire summer at fat camp (UM…), and his sheer determination alone to not “stuff his face” helps him shake off the herion-addictive magic laid on the school food.

ExCUSE me???

(*Side note, I’m on meds now for non-food stuff that screw with my appetite and also I’m a broke bitch but as a kid/teen, my trigger foods were bread, apple pie, cake, waffles, and fruit bagels. I can still, if I had money, eat an entire angel food cake but that’s not a trigger, it’s just super fluffy and delicious)

So our sidekick is a former fat kid with untreated mental health issues who got sent to fat camp and thanks to the miracle of fat camp has now overcome his unhealthy dependence on food AND has the will power (forged from denying his inner fatty) to throw off three witches’ worth of addictive magic. Something Lorelei only manages to do after she eats magical dead-kid bone chips. Because she and the other kids have no self-control and so just eat and eat...apparently.

Alrighty then…

But Andrew’s not our lead. Lorelei is. And Lorelei interesting as a middle grade protagonist. Her mom recently died of cancer and Lorelei blames herself (because that’s what kids do) and she’s filled with even more confusion, fear, self-hate, and anger than a typical tween girl as a result both of her mother’s lingering illness and ugly death as well as the fact that Lorelei at one point jerked away from her mom during an argument and, due to chemo-induced weakness, her mom lost her balance, fell, and broke a bone.

Lorelei is lost and angry. She makes friends with Andrew and finds out about the witches and their cannibal plot while still struggling not only with her mom’s death and her own guilt, but the screwed-up situation with her family. What situation? Her dad and older brother are 100% emotionally abusive and treat her like she’s some kind of bratty little monster because she’s feeling sad and guilty and scared and angry all the time.

HER MOM JUST DIED YOU BUTTHOLES, SHE’S GOING THROUGH PUBERTY WHICH IS A HORMONAL HURRICANE OF DEATH THAT RUINS EVERYTHING, AND YOU POOP-WAFFLES ARE HELPING NOT AT ALL AND YOU SUCK.

This is a MAJOR pet peeve for me because too often emotional abuse is normalized in middle grade fiction, especially when it comes from parents (this book, The Night Parade by Kathryn Tanquary, All Four Stars by Tara Dairman, Young Wizards by Diane Duane, and even in Harry Potter, perpetuated by some of the so-called heroes) and it drives me bat-crap.

This is a middle-grade review, so I’m trying to keep it PG13.

The head witch, Ms. Morrigan, is drawn to Lorelei because of her anger and how lost she feels, and instead of eating her, wants to adopt her and make her into a baby cannibal-witch. This would be kind of a cool angle except once again, it reinforces that Lorelei being angry about her mom being dead is a flaw iin her character and not a completely understandable psychological response to a tween’s universe being ripped in half by the concept of her mother being gone forever.

Her dad and brother are “good guys” and disturbed/horrified by and condemning of her anger, grief, guilt, and fear, and they punish her for it. Ergo, according to the narrative, her anger is bad. The evil witches who literally eat children admire her anger and say it proves she should be one of them, too. Ergo, her anger is double bad. She only stops being tempted to join with the witches once she realizes being angry about her mom dying is “immature” and “bad.” Ergo, blah blah blah, girls should never be angry, it’s unladylike and turns you into a flesh-eating witch.

My parents spoon-fed me “demonstrating anger in any way for any reason is bad” along with a HUGE helping of “being angry about feeling powerless makes you a bad person” for six years of my adolescence, then wondered why I started self-harming, developed depression, and attempted suicide on multiple occasions before I was twelve. The message that a child’s anger in the face of powerlessness, death, or sudden and unpredictable changes to their homeostasis is an inherently bad thing that should be punished and makes them bad or evil can be incredibly damaging. Her mom died. A twelve-year-old girl is allowed to be confused and sad and hurt and angry about that.

Like I said, I didn’t hate the book (although these two things I ranted about made me suuuper uncomfortable while reading and the more I thought about them later, the angrier I got). But I didn’t love it, and I didn’t like it as much as I did during my first read-through. The fat-shaming was annoying and gross, and I’m suuuper tired of angry girls being shamed for their feelings, especially teens and kids. Young people feel things so intensely. And they don’t always have the experience or the vocabulary to parse out how certain aspects of a story make them feel or why, or resist internalizing toxic messages about how feeling intensely or feeling a particular way at all is bad. Thre’s a big differene between asking an eight-year-old to consume their media critically and someone twice or thrice that age. And yeah, parents have a responsibility, family discussions, if they rely solely on books society has failed them, blah blah. Unfortunately, a lot of parents suck and a lot of parents shame their kids for having feelings the parets don’t think they should. Especially young girls. The normalizing of emotional abuse by parents in middle grade books proves how “normal” many adults think such things are.

Did I Enjoy This Book: yeah, for the most part, I guess. But I won’t be reading it again anytime soon.

Would I Recommend It: No, I wouldn’t. I can’t think of anyone I would feel comfortable recommending it to, who would actually enjoy it.

Plot: .35 star

Word Choice: .5 star

World Building: .5 star

Characters: .5 star

Realism: .75 star

-¼ star for fat-shaming

-¼ star for normalizing emotional abuse

-¼ star for shaming female anger

Total Score: 1.85/5 stars

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Nicole Kidman as Principal Trapp Michelle Pfeiffer as Ms. Morrigan Bryce Dallas Howard as Ms. Threnoddy

#book review #aesthetic #nikki loftin #sinister sweetness of splendid academy #suicide m #fat shaming tw #sexism #misogyny #middle grade #food tw #emotional abuse tw #character death tw

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thefinishedarticle · 5 years

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Alternative Team of the Year 2018/19

Another year, another premature selection by the PFA, and another chance to reflect and correct now that the season is actually done.

Liverpool and Manchester City dominated the chosen team, just as they dominated the league with two of the three best ever points tallies, only behind City’s own record last year. After adding a Champions League crown and a domestic clean sweep respectively, they deserve to go down in history as the best top two that the Premier League has ever seen. Both teams were a class above the rest, and so it isn’t surprising that they contributed X of the chosen XI, with Manchester United’s Paul Pogba the sole exception. Even then, his inclusion was the most controversial.

Goal - Alisson

It’s worth starting off by noting that this is the first year David De Gea hasn’t been named to the team since 2014. That year he lost his crown to Petr Cech, who was still in his first spell at Chelsea. Cech has since spent four seasons at Arsenal, before returning to the Blues in a behind the scenes role, and De Gea had been the first name on the PFA team sheet in every one of those years until now, making it five times in his first seven years in England.

But last season he wasn’t even in the top two. United suffered as a whole from the inevitable collapse of a Mourinho third season, but even before then the cracks were beginning to show. In the summer’s World Cup, De Gea faced 11 shots on target for Spain, and conceded 10 of them. Even excluding penalties, he let in six out of the seven attempts which came his way.

He then conceded seven of the first twelve shots he faced for United when the league season got under way, including a low in September where he dropped the ball and then dived for a foul to try to cover his mistake. Another dip followed in March, when he conceded four goals against Southampton and Arsenal from their six attempts. After arguably carrying United for so many years, his heavy arms became one of the parts which let them down.

The decision for the PFA was between Ederson and Allisson, City and Liverpool’s goalkeepers, numbers one and two in the league. Ederson had arrived the season before as a marked improvement from Claudio Bravo, and played a big part in City winning the league with a good defensive record and a style of playing out from the back, his distribution so impressive that he even assisted a goal.

Liverpool had similarly struggled with error-prone goalkeeping, and after Loris Karius’s gaffes in the Champions League final they splashed out a world record fee for Alisson this year, breaking the record that City had set for Ederson (only for Chelsea to break it again a few weeks later). He proved worth every penny, establishing himself as one of the best shot-stoppers in the league, winning the Golden Glove in his first season, and producing a solid display and clean sheet to win them that much coveted European title at their repeat attempt.

Along with fellow newcomer Virgil van Dijk, Alisson’s arrival was a major part of what transformed his team and made them so impressive after last year’s third place finish. They had two Golden Boot winners in their side, but it was their defensive record that truly impressed this year, a departure from the most recent Liverpool sides who have come close with world-class firepower but a leaky back line.

He fits a slightly different team to Ederson, who may be better with the ball at his feet, but there is a reason one is chosen over the other for their native Brazil. This team, a mish-mash of players from different clubs, will be more like Brazil than the free-flowing hivemind of City. All we need here is an individual who can keep the ball out of the net, and when it comes to being good with their hands, Alisson earns his place as the best keeper in the league.

Defence - Digne, Keane, Boly, Wan Bissaka

This is really tough. The PFA selection got this absolutely spot on this year, and really they were left very little room for doubt. Liverpool had the best defensive record in the league, led by the incredible van Dijk, who stopped every single opponent from dribbling past him, dominated the airspace around his goal, and turned up with some goals at the other end as well.

City had the second best back line, and Aymeric Laporte was the ever-present heart of it as John Stones, Vincent Kompany, and Nicolas Otamendi drifted in and out of favour. He was undoubtedly their best centre-back, and he also emerged as their best fit left-back for a time after Benjamin Mendy’s injury. With the rotation of those four, Danilo, Fabian Delph and Oleksandr Zinchenko for the shampions, there was little competition for Laporte’s place in the PFA side, with Kyle Walker his only defensive team-mate to play more than 25 league games.

There is therefore little choice but to turn back to Liverpool, who switched van Dijk’s partner between Joel Matip and Joe Gomez, neither of whom managed more than 17 starts. But whoever played at centre-half, they were joined by two brilliant attacking full-backs in Andrew Robertson and Trent Alexander-Arnold, who surpassed almost every winger and matched and broke the record for the most assists for a defender (11 and 12 respectively), totals which in some seasons would have beaten every pair of forwards in the league.

It feels strange to remember that the season didn’t start that way. In the opening few weeks, the league was ruled by left-backs. By early September, the top four teams (City, Liverpool, Chelsea, Watford) had all ascended with complete reliance on their left-back for assists: Mendy and José Holebas had four each, and Robertson and Marcos Alonso had two, which were the four most of any player in the league.

Holebas and Alonso had also scored a goal each, meaning the list of players with the most combined goals and assists read Holebas on five, and Alonso, Mendy, Aguero, Hazard, Mané and Mitrovic on four. Robertson and Alexander-Arnold only caught up as the season went along.

So did Lucas Digne, Everton’s own left-back, who only managed 4 assists and 4 goals, but sent in the most crosses of any player in the league (280, dwarfing Robertson’s 135) and created more chances than any other defender, suggesting that the prominence of the Liverpool duo may be just because they had the team-mates who could put them away. Everton’s defence was also the fifth tightest in the league, with Digne named their player of the year, and so I am happy to add him as a contender to the established elite.

I will resist the urge to add Walker as the sole available candidate from City’s defence, although he should be recognised for his part in their remarkable achievements. Instead, I will offer that recognition to Aaron Wan-Bissaka, another young full-back arriving in the Premier League and making an immediate impression, becoming the player of the year for a Crystal Palace side who had been wholly reliant on the talents of Wilfred Zaha (and the penalty kicks of Luka Milivojevic).

But he earnt it. Wan-Bissaka recorded the most tackles of any defender in the league, the most interceptions of any defender in the league, and all this for a mid-table side; defensive statistics are usually dominated by the overrun relegation scrappers, who face more attacks and so have more opportunities to build up their numbers, but Palace conceded fewer goals than Manchester United. Their star right-back was a big part of that.

In the middle I will pair Digne with team-mate Michael Keane, who kept out more goals than either United or Arsenal whilst winning more aerial battles than any defender but the relegated Sean Morrison. He was ranked tenth for clearances, only beaten by van Dijk and players at the bottom of the league, and in the top twenty for blocks (again, a category dominated by Burnley and Cardiff players, making this ranking for a top team more impressive) and passes.

Similarly, Willy Boly deserves recognition for his part in Wolves’s impressive break-through season. Whilst their attackers received most of the plaudits for their seventh-place finish, they actually only scored the thirteenth most goals in the league, but conceded the fifth least (joint with Everton). Their strength was in a defense led by Boly, who had the fourth most interceptions, fifth most tackles, 9th most blocks and 14th most clearances of any defender, despite playing in a highly successful team. He was then 9th for aerial battles and 13th for passes.

Midfield - Ndidi, Fraser, Sigurdsson

Now it gets interesting. There are a number of mistakes which the PFA selection consistently makes, year after year, and most of them appeared again this time around. But to start, I should applaud them for actually picking a balanced midfield three, with Fernandinho behind Pogba and Bernardo Silva. In previous incarnations the PFA have tried to cram in another wide forward or three attacking midfielders behind three central strikers, and this year’s approach actually looks relatively reasonable, even with Pogba there.

But he’s an easy target, so let’s target him for a minute. Pogba had a rollercoaster of a season, falling out with Mourinho and disappearing for a the first half, then bursting into life under Solskjaer with an incredible return for a midfielder of eight goals and six assists from his first nine games, and then going quiet again. Outside of that honeymoon he only scored 5 goals in 26 league games, and four of those were penalties.

It’s impressive to look back on 13 goals and 9 assists for the season. It’s less impressive that 7 of the goals were penalties (Milivojevic may as well be lauded for his 12 goals). It’s less impressive when they all happened in the space of a month, with the rest of the season featuring more action in the newspapers than on the pitch. It’s strange to have to spell it out, but recognition as the team of the year should go to players who have been excellent over the course of the year. Unfortunately, concentrated, unexpected bursts of brilliance stick in the mind more than the players who consistently turn up.

This is one of the common mistakes of the PFA selection, compounded by the indisputable error of holding voting in March, with a 2 April deadline for submission. Before this date, Solksjaer’s United had won eleven of his first fourteen games. After it, they only won one of the their final seven. Pogba was included because he happened to hit form just before players voted, and then timed his crash perfectly to happen after voting ended. But looking back over the whole season from its end, he was not the best player over the course of the year.

I will instead recognise the creativity of Ryan Fraser over the course of a season where he registered the most assists (14) in a league which includes Man City and Liverpool, also sending in the most crosses and recording 7 goals with no penalties, which is more than Pogba can say. He crushed the competition for big chances created, with 28 compared to 16 for David Silva in second place. Silva deserves credit for his consistent levels of brilliance, but he plays in a team of record-breakers. I will instead recognise Gylfi Sigurdsson for his 6 assists and 13 goals, eleven of which weren’t penalties (more than any other midfielder in the league), in a team with no real striker where he scored most of their goals.

From a more conservative perspective, I will choose Leicester’s young Wilfred Ndidi, who allows an attacking, creative midfield to flourish by providing a solid defensive cover, with the league’s most tackles, second most interceptions, fourth most clearances, as well as its ninth most passes. Whilst the defensive figures are made more impressive by the fact that Leicester are not a struggling team, the passing stat is high for a team outside of the elites: excluding the dominant Big Six, only Milivojevic has two passes more.

An honourable mention should go to his colleagues, the likes of James Maddison (equally worthy of recognition for a breakthrough season with 7 goals and 7 assists) and Youri Tielemens (whose 3 goals and 4 assists in just 13 games since arriving in January would have earnt him a place if stretched over a season), but the evidence of their success shows that Ndidi’s presence will allow our more creative midfielders the space and time to link up with the forwards. Speaking of which...

Forwards - Hazard, Aubameyang, Salah

Another of the consistent flaws in the PFA selection is that it picks players who are unexceptional parts of exceptional teams in preference to exceptional players in unexceptional teams. Eden Hazard was chosen in 2016/17, when he was just one part of a dominant Chelsea team, in preference to Alexis Sanchez, who at the time was the dominant force carrying an average Arsenal team. This year Hazard was the dominant force carrying an average Chelsea team, but he misses out for Sadio Mané, just one part of a dominant Liverpool team.

Mané was another beneficiary of the premature voting deadline: he scored nine goals in as many games from mid-January to mid-March, when voting started, which made people forget that he’d only managed 4 goals in Liverpool’s 18 games before. I will discount Tottenham’s Son Heung-min as an alternative for the same reason: whilst he did exceptionally well deputising for Harry Kane, he scored eleven of his twelve goals for the season in just thirteen games from mid-November to mid-February. He was a shoe-in for the team of those three months, but that doesn’t put him in the team of the year because the year also includes the six months in which he scored one goal.

It’s hard to argue against including a Golden Boot winner, but then again the PFA ignored two of them. Mané ultimately scored 22 goals, but he was matched by team-mate Mohamed Salah and Arsenal’s Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang. This was a strange season for picking top forwards, with the field closely bunched together. It was the first year since 2010/11, when Carlos Tevez and Dimitar Berbatov shared the Golden Boot with a measly 20 goals each, that no striker had broken the 25 goal mark.

Instead, three came equally close, with Aguero’s 21 goals a whisker behind. In fact, it was only braces from Mané and Aubameyang on the final day that overtook him, with Salah otherwise set to be the sole winner. Just behind them were Jamie Vardy (18 goals), Harry Kane (17), Raheem Sterling (17) and Hazard (16). Hazard also had the most assists in the league (15), making his 31 goal involvements the most of any player.

He also led the league for chances created, dribbles and take-ons completed. That sounds all the more impressive given that he wasn’t part of a fluid Liverpool or City system, but had to do all of the work himself. He was a part of half of Chelsea’s goals, a higher percentage than any other player in this conversation. Aguero and Sterling had each other, Mané and Salah had each other, but Hazard had an ageing Pedro and Olivier Giroud... and he still beat their numbers.

He carried Chelsea to a respectable third place and Europa League win, and it is small wonder he was named man of the match more than any other player in the league.He deserves the recognition of a place in this team. So does last season’s player of the year, Salah, who combined his goals with sixteen big chances created (second in the league behind Hazard), resulting in eight assists, for a total of 30 goal involvements.

Mané’s respective numbers are seven (seventeeth in the league, well below the likes of Alex Iwobi and Troy Deeney) and one (below 23 defenders), for a total of 23. Aubameyang is somewhere in the middle: eight big chances created, five assists, a total of 27 (and as with Hazard, he is playing in a much lesser team, fed by the likes of Iwobi rather than the likes of Sterling, Sané and the Silvas). In terms of all-round play, it seems Mané is lacking something that the others have, a direct, selfish player who likes to run into the box and shoot for himself instead of crossing to a team-mate, and so this team feels stronger with the flexibility of three forwards who are happier to link up and create for each other. It doesn’t hurt that two are Golden Boot winners as well.

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blackkudos · 7 years

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Julius Erving

Julius Winfield Erving II (born February 22, 1950), commonly known by the nickname Dr. J, is an American retired basketball player who helped popularize a modern style of play that emphasizes leaping and playing above the rim. Erving helped legitimize the American Basketball Association (ABA) and was the best-known player in that league when it merged with the National Basketball Association (NBA) after the 1975–76 season.

Erving won three championships, four Most Valuable Player Awards, and three scoring titles with the ABA's Virginia Squires and New York Nets (now the NBA's Brooklyn Nets) and the NBA's Philadelphia 76ers. He is the sixth-highest scorer in ABA/NBA history with 30,026 points (NBA and ABA combined). He was well known for slam dunking from the free throw line in slam dunk contests and was the only player voted Most Valuable Player in both the ABA and the NBA.

Erving was inducted in 1993 into the Basketball Hall of Fame and was also named to the NBA's 50th Anniversary All-Time team. In 1994, Erving was named by Sports Illustrated as one of the 40 most important athletes of all time. In 2004, he was inducted into the Nassau County Sports Hall of Fame.

Many consider him one of the most talented players in the history of the NBA; he is widely acknowledged as one of the game's best dunkers. While Connie Hawkins, "Jumping" Johnny Green, Elgin Baylor, Jim Pollard and Gus Johnson performed spectacular dunks before Erving's time, "Dr. J" brought the practice into the mainstream. His signature dunk was the "slam" dunk, since incorporated into the vernacular and basic skill set of the game in the same manner as the "crossover" dribble and the "no look" pass. Before Julius Erving, dunking was a practice most commonly used by the big men (usually standing close to the hoop) to show their brutal strength which was seen as style over substance, even unsportsmanlike, by many purists of the game. However, the way Erving utilized the dunk more as a high-percentage shot made at the end of maneuvers generally starting well away from the basket and not necessarily a "show of force" helped to make the shot an acceptable strategy, especially in trying to avoid a blocked shot. Although the slam dunk is still widely used as a show of power, a method of intimidation and a way to fire up a team (and spectators), Dr. J demonstrated that there can be great artistry and almost balletic style to slamming the ball into the hoop, particularly after a launch several feet from that target.

Career

High school

Erving was born in East Meadow, New York, and raised from the age of 13 in Roosevelt, New York. He played for Roosevelt High School and received the nickname "Doctor" or "Dr. J" from a high school friend named Leon Saunders. He explains,

I have a buddy—his name is Leon Saunders—and he lives in Atlanta, and I started calling him "the professor", and he started calling me "the doctor". So it was just between us...we were buddies, we had our nicknames and we would roll with the nicknames. Lo and behold we graduate from high school together, we both go to U-Mass, and we separated for many years 'cause he went over to Africa and did some stuff, and I went my way. But now he's my golf buddy in Atlanta...and I love him. He's just like a little brother to me even though, you know, there's only months between us. But he's the professor and he was the first one to call me "the doctor". And that's where it came from.

Erving recalled, "[L]ater on, in the Rucker Park league in Harlem, when people started calling me 'Black Moses' and 'Houdini', I told them if they wanted to call me anything, call me 'Doctor,'" Over time, the nickname evolved into "Dr. Julius," and finally "Dr. J."

College

Erving enrolled at the University of Massachusetts in 1968. In two varsity college basketball seasons, he averaged 26.3 points and 20.2 rebounds per game, becoming one of only six players to average more than 20 points and 20 rebounds per game in NCAA Men's Basketball.

At that time, professional basketball was in flux, split between two leagues whose players rapidly switched clubs and leagues. Erving joined the ABA in 1971 as an undrafted free agent with the Squires.

Having left college early to pursue a professional career, Erving earned a bachelor's degree from the University of Massachusetts Amherst through the University Without Walls program in creative leadership and administration in 1986, fulfilling a promise he had made to his mother. Erving also holds an honorary doctorate from the University of Massachusetts Amherst

Virginia Squires (ABA)

Erving quickly established himself as a force and gained a reputation for hard and ruthless dunking. He scored 27.3 points per game as a rookie, was selected to the All-ABA Second Team, made the ABA All-Rookie Team, led the ABA in offensive rebounds, and finished second to Artis Gilmore for the ABA Rookie of the Year Award. He led the Squires into the Eastern Division Finals, where they lost to the Rick Barry-led New York Nets in seven games. The Nets would eventually go to the finals, losing to the star-studded Indiana Pacers team.

When he became eligible for the NBA draft in 1972, the Milwaukee Bucks picked him in the first round (12th overall). This move would have brought him together with Oscar Robertson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Instead, the 6 feet 7 inches (2.01 m), 210-pound (95 kg) Erving signed a contract with the Atlanta Hawks before the 1972 draft when he discovered his former agent Steve Arnold happened to work for the Squires, deluding him to sign for a low paying contract.

As attorneys tried to reach an agreement among three teams in two leagues, Erving joined Pete Maravich and the Hawks's training camp, as they prepared for the upcoming season. Erving enjoyed his brief time with Atlanta, and he would later duplicate with George Gervin his after-practice playing with Maravich. He played three exhibition games with the Hawks until, because of a legal injunction, he was obliged by a three-judge panel to return to the ABA Squires. The NBA fined Atlanta $25,000 per game for Erving's Hawks appearances because Milwaukee owned his NBA rights.

Back in the ABA, his game flourished, and he achieved a career-best 31.9 points per game in the 1972–1973 season. The following year, the cash-strapped Squires sold his contract to the New York Nets.

New York Nets (ABA)

The Squires, like most ABA teams, were on rather shaky financial ground. They were forced to trade Erving to the Nets in 1973—a move which eventually sent the Squires into oblivion. Erving led the Nets to their first ABA title in 1973–74, defeating the Utah Stars. Erving established himself as the most important player in the ABA. His spectacular play established the Nets as one of the better teams in the ABA, and brought fans and credibility to the league. The end of the 1975–76 ABA season finally brought the ABA–NBA merger. The Nets and Nuggets had applied for admission to the NBA before the season, in anticipation of the eventual merger that had first been proposed by the two leagues in 1970 but which was delayed for various reasons, including the Oscar Robertson suit. The Erving-led Nets defeated the Denver Nuggets in the swan-song finals of the ABA. In the postseason, Erving averaged 34.7 points and was named Most Valuable Player of the playoffs. That season, he finished in the top 10 in the ABA in points per game, rebounds per game, assists per game, steals per game, blocks per game, free throw percentage, free throws made, free throws attempted, three-point field goal percentage and three-point field goals made.

In all, Erving played five seasons in the ABA. In that time, he won two championships, three MVP trophies, and three scoring titles. He was also a four-time All-ABA First Team selection.

Philadelphia 76ers

The Nets, Nuggets, Indiana Pacers, and San Antonio Spurs joined the NBA for the 1976–77 season. With Erving and Nate Archibald (acquired in a trade with Kansas City), the Nets were poised to pick up right where they left off. However, the New York Knicks upset the Nets' plans when they demanded that the Nets pay them $4.8 million for "invading" the Knicks' NBA territory. Coming on the heels of the fees the Nets had to pay for joining the NBA, owner Roy Boe reneged on a promise to raise Erving's salary. Erving refused to play under these conditions and held out in training camp.

After several teams such as the Milwaukee Bucks, Los Angeles Lakers and Philadelphia 76ers lobbied to obtain him, the Nets offered Erving's contract to the New York Knicks in return for waiving the indemnity, but the Knicks turned it down. This was considered one of the worst decisions in franchise history. The Knicks' Walt Frazier led-dynasty in the 1970s had previously taken a big hit following the 1973–74 season when three of their stars (Jerry Lucas, Dave DeBusschere, and Willis Reed) all retired, dropping the Knicks from perennial contenders to just an average team over the next 2 seasons. The Knicks remained an average team in the 1976-77 season. They had a solid winning season in 1977–78, but then dropped back to average in the 1979-79 and 1979–80 seasons. They won 50 games in the 1980-81 season, went 47-35 in the 1983-84 season, then plummeted to 24-58 in 1984-85, resulting in their acquiring Patrick Ewing from Georgetown with the overall No. 1 draft pick. The Sixers then decided to offer to buy Erving's contract for $3 million—roughly the same amount as the Nets' expansion fee—Boe had little choice but to accept. This would total $6 million overall, with the other half going to Erving. His new jersey number 6 would derive from the $6 million paid by the Philadelphia 76ers; it also matched the team nickname "Sixers". For all intents and purposes, the Nets traded their franchise player for a berth in the NBA. The Erving deal left the Nets in ruin; they promptly crashed to a 22–60 record, the worst in the league. Years later, Boe regretted having to trade Erving, saying, "The merger agreement killed the Nets as an NBA franchise . . . . The merger agreement got us into the NBA, but it forced me to destroy the team by selling Erving to pay the bill."

Erving quickly became the leader of his new club and led them to an exciting 50-win season. However, playing with bigger stars forced his role to diminish. In the ABA, he would be told to do everything for his team. With the Sixers, he focused more on scoring. Despite a smaller role, Erving stayed unselfish. The Sixers, featuring other stars like ABA co-MVP George McGinnis, ABA All-Star Caldwell Jones, future All-Star World B Free (then Lloyd Free), outside shooting threat Henry Bibby (father of Mike Bibby), and the versatile and aggressive Doug Collins (later Michael Jordan's coach during the late 80s), won the Atlantic Division and were the top drawing team in the NBA. The Sixers defeated the defending champions, the Boston Celtics, to win the Eastern Conference. Erving took them into the NBA Finals against the Portland Trail Blazers of Bill Walton. After the Sixers took a 2–0 lead, however, the Blazers defeated them with four straight victories after the famous brawl between Maurice Lucas and Darryl Dawkins which ignited the Blazers' chemistry.

However, Dr. J enjoyed success off the court, becoming one of the first basketball players to endorse many products and to have a shoe marketed under his name. It was at this time that he appeared in television commercials urging young fans asking for his autograph in an airport to refer to him henceforth as "Dr. Chapstick". He also starred in the 1979 basketball comedy film, The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh. A famous TV commercial for Sixers season tickets during the 1977–78 off-season summed up Erving's desire to win an NBA Title. In the commercial, Erving was in the Sixers locker room and he said to fans, "We owe you one" while he held up his index finger. It took a few years for the Sixers franchise to build around Erving. Eventually coach Billy Cunningham and top-level players like Maurice Cheeks, Andrew Toney, and Bobby Jones were added to the mix and the franchise was very successful.

In the following years, Erving coped with a team that was not yet playing at his level. The Sixers were eliminated twice in the Eastern Conference Finals. In 1979, Larry Bird entered the league, reviving the Boston Celtics and the storied Celtics–76ers rivalry; these two teams faced each other in the Eastern Conference Finals in 1980, 1981, 1982, and 1985. The Bird vs. Dr. J matchup became arguably the top personal rivalry in the sport (along with Bird vs. Magic Johnson), inspiring the early Electronic Arts video game One on One: Dr. J vs. Larry Bird.

In 1980, the 76ers prevailed over the Celtics to advance to the NBA Finals against the Los Angeles Lakers. There, Erving executed the legendary "Baseline Move", a behind-the-board reverse layup. However, the Lakers won 4–2 with superb play from, among others, Magic Johnson.

Erving again was among the league's best players in the 1980–1981 and 1981–1982 seasons, although more disappointment came as the Sixers stumbled twice in the playoffs: in 1981, the Celtics eliminated them in 7 games in the 1981 Eastern Finals after Philadelphia had a 3–1 series lead, but lost both Game 5 and Game 6 by 2 points and the deciding Game 7 by 1) and in 1982, the Sixers managed to beat the defending champion Celtics in 7 games in the 1982 Eastern Finals but lost the NBA Finals to the Los Angeles Lakers in 6 games. Despite these defeats, Erving was named the NBA MVP in 1981 and was again voted to the 1982 All-NBA First Team.

Finally, for the 1982–83 season, the Sixers obtained the missing element to combat their weakness at their center position, Moses Malone. Armed with one of the most formidable and unstoppable center-forward combinations of all time, the Sixers dominated the whole season, prompting Malone to make the famous playoff prediction of "fo-fo-fo (four-four-four)" in anticipation of the 76ers sweeping the three rounds of the playoffs en route to an NBA title. In fact, the Sixers went four-five-four, losing one game to the Milwaukee Bucks in the conference finals, then sweeping the Lakers to win the NBA title.

Erving maintained his all-star caliber of play into his twilight years, averaging 22.4, 20.0, 18.1, and 16.8 points per game in his final seasons. In 1986, he announced that he would retire after the season, causing every game he played to be sold out with adoring fans. That final season saw opposing teams pay tribute to Erving in the last game Erving would play in their arenas, including in cities such as Boston and Los Angeles, his perennial rivals in the playoffs.

Career summary

Erving retired in 1987 at the age of 37. "A young Julius Erving was like Thomas Edison, he was always inventing something new every night", Johnny Kerr told ABA historian Terry Pluto. He is also one of the few players in modern basketball to have his number retired by two franchises: the Brooklyn Nets (formerly the New York Nets and New Jersey Nets) have retired his No. 32 jersey, and the Philadelphia 76ers his No. 6 jersey. He was an excellent all around player who was also an underrated defender. In his ABA days, he would guard the best forward, whether small forward or power forward, for over 40 minutes a game, and simultaneously be the best passer, ball handler, and clutch scorer every night. Many of Erving's acrobatic highlight feats and clutch moments were unknown because of the ABA's scant television coverage. He is considered by many as the greatest dunker of all time.

In his ABA and NBA careers combined, he scored more than 30,000 points. In 1993, Erving was elected to the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. When he retired, Erving ranked in the top 5 in scoring (third), field goals made (third), field goals attempted (fifth) and steals (first). On the combined NBA/ABA scoring list, Erving ranked third with 30,026 points. As of 2013, Erving ranks sixth on the list, behind only Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Karl Malone, Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, and Wilt Chamberlain.

Memorable feats

1976 ABA Slam Dunk Contest

Erving in this memorable contest would face George "The Ice Man" Gervin, All-Star and former teammate Larry Kenon, MVP Artis "The A-Train" Gilmore, and David "The Skywalker" Thompson. Erving would start by dunking two balls in the hoop. Then, he would release a move that brought the slam dunk contest to the national consciousness. He would go all the way to the end of the court and run to release a free throw line dunk. Although dunking from the foul line had been done by other players (Jim Pollard and Wilt Chamberlain in the 1950s, for example), Erving introduced the dunk jumping off the foul line to a wide audience, when he demonstrated the feat in the 1976 ABA All-Star Game Dunking Contest.

Dunk over Bill Walton

This transpired during game 6 of the 1977 NBA Finals. After Portland made a basket, Erving immediately ran full court with the whole Blazers team defending him. He made a cross-over in front of multiple defenders and just glided to the hoop with ease. With the defensive UCLA legend Bill Walton waiting in the post, Erving threw a vicious slam dunk. This dunk is considered by many to be one of the strongest dunks ever attempted considering he ran full court with all five defenders running with him. This move was one of the highlights of his arrival to a more television-exposed NBA.

The Baseline Move

One of his most memorable plays occurred during the 1980 NBA Finals, when he executed a seemingly impossible finger-roll behind the backboard. He drove past Lakers forward Mark Landsberger on the right baseline and went in for a layup. Then 7′2″ center Kareem Abdul-Jabbar crossed his way, blocking the route to the basket and forcing him outwards. In mid-air, it was apparent that Erving would land behind the backboard. But somehow he managed to reach over and score on a right-handed layup despite the fact that his whole body, including his left shoulder, was already behind the hoop. This move, along with his free-throw line dunk, has become one of the signature events of his career. It was called by Sports Illustrated, "The, No Way, even for Dr J, Flying Reverse Lay-up". Dr J called it "just another move".

Rock The Baby over Michael Cooper

Another of Erving's most memorable plays came in the final moments of a regular-season game against the Los Angeles Lakers in 1983. After Sixers point guard Maurice Cheeks deflected a pass by Lakers forward James Worthy, Erving picked up the ball and charged down the court's left side, with one defender to beat—the Lakers' top defensive player Michael Cooper. As he came inside of the 3-point line, he cupped the ball into his wrist and forearm, rocking the ball back and forth before taking off for what Lakers radio broadcaster Chick Hearn best described as a "Rock The Baby" slam dunk: he slung the ball around behind his head and dunked over a ducking Cooper. This dunk is generally regarded as one of the greatest dunks of all time.

Post-basketball career

Erving earned his bachelor's degree in 1986 through the University Without Walls at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. After his basketball career ended, he became a businessman, obtaining ownership of a Coca-Cola bottling plant in Philadelphia and doing work as a television analyst. In 1997, he joined the front office of the Orlando Magic as Vice President of RDV Sports and Executive Vice President.

Erving and former NFL running back Joe Washington fielded a NASCAR Busch Series team from 1998 to 2000, becoming the first ever NASCAR racing team at any level owned completely by minorities. The team had secure sponsorship from Dr Pepper for most of its existence. Erving, a racing fan himself, stated that his foray into NASCAR was an attempt to raise interest in NASCAR among African-Americans.

He has also served on the Board of Directors of Converse (prior to their 2001 bankruptcy), Darden Restaurants, Inc., Saks Incorporated and The Sports Authority. As of 2009, Erving was the owner of The Celebrity Golf Club International outside of Atlanta, but the club was forced to file for bankruptcy soon after. He was ranked by ESPN as one of the greatest athletes of the 20th Century.

ABA and NBA career statistics

Regular seasonPlayoffs

Personal life

Erving is a Christian. Erving has spoken about his faith saying, "After searching for the meaning of life for over ten years, I found the meaning in Jesus Christ."

Erving was married to Turquoise Erving from 1972 until 2003. Together they had four children. Their son, Cory, drowned after driving his vehicle into a pond in 2000.

In 1979, Erving began an adulterous affair with sportswriter Samantha Stevenson, resulting in the 1980 birth of American tennis player, Alexandra Stevenson. Although Erving's fatherhood of Alexandra Stevenson was known privately to the families involved, it did not become public knowledge until Stevenson reached the semifinals at Wimbledon in 1999, the first year she qualified to play in the tournament. Erving had provided financial support for Stevenson over the years, but beyond that, had not been a part of her life. The public disclosure of their relationship did not initially lead to contact between father and daughter. However, in 2008, Stevenson contacted him, and they at last did initiate a further relationship with one another. In 2009 Erving attended the Family Circle Cup tennis tournament to see Stevenson play, marking the first time he had attended one of her matches.

In 2003, he fathered a second child outside of his marriage, Justin Kangas, this time with a woman named Dorýs Madden. Julius and Turquoise Erving were subsequently divorced. Erving continued his relationship with Madden, with the couple having three more children together. In 2008, he and Madden were married. Erving has in total fathered nine children.

Wikipedia

#Julius Erving

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onlineworkyou2b · 5 years

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Twitter responds to Will Smith's Genie outfit

The time of Disney live-activity changes has arrived, thus far the Mouse House has neglected to disillusion. 2015's Cinderella got the ball coming in style, and Jon Favreau's widely praised form of The Jungle Book was one of the motion picture occasions of 2016. The 2017 live-action Beauty and the Beast didn't score very as profoundly with faultfinders, yet regardless it figured out how to pull in an astounding $1.2 billion at the overall film industry. The studio has three big real to life revamps hitting theaters in 2019, however while The Lion King continues to create buzz, individuals are getting stressed about Aladdin — and the primary authority photographs (discharged by means of Entertainment Weekly) have done little to facilitate those worries.

The greatest staying point for most fans is by all accounts the way that Will Smith is playing the Genie, a character deified by the late, incredible Robin Williams. Smith told EW that his performance would be "a praise" to Williams yet would contrast to some degree as far as melodic style. "There hasn't been a great deal of that hip-bounce season in Disney history," he called attention to. We get that they're attempting to go for an all new interpretation of the Genie, yet for what reason would he say he isn't blue? Also, what's happening with that haircut? Smith addressed the principal question (He'll be a blue, CGI Genie more often than not), yet he hasn't reacted to the assault of tweets about his character's ensemble. Here's a gathering of the best Twitter responses.

Gathering the Sinbad we had always wanted

Performing artist and expert wrestler RJ Skinner (better known by his ring name RJ City) reignited a well established discussion when he saw Will Smith's Genie ensemble — one that includes '90s parody star Sinbad. An age of children grew up trusting that Sinbad (genuine name David Adkins) had featured as a genie in a motion picture called Shazaam, however stop and think for a minute — that film never at any point existed. As per Snopes, the "Sinbad-genie wonder" is a prime case of the Mandela Effect, which is "a casual term for a group false memory."

Some quite persuading phony VHS covers have been circled by those attempting to sustain the legend, however Sinbad has dependably precluded the presence from securing such a film. He accuses this for the wild creative ability of children who experienced childhood during the '90s, yet RJ City offered an alternate clarification: "Recollect that imaginary world s*** when we thought Sinbad featured in a genie film?" he tweeted. "Turns out we were really thinking about a timetable later on with Will Smith." We figure he could be on to something here.

Twitter goes on the Shaq assault

It's conceivable that one reason individuals trust they recall a Sinbad motion picture named Shazaam is due to the also titled Kazaam, as indicated by Snopes. For those of you sufficiently fortunate to have maintained a strategic distance from 1996's Kazaam every one of these years, it stars ball pro turned on-screen character Shaquille O'Neal as a rapping genie who shows up from an enchantment boombox to allow a kid named Max three wishes. On the off chance that that sounds strange, that is on the grounds that it is.

Kazaam has a fairly telling 6 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, whose faultfinders moaned about the way that "Shaq's overwhelming magnetism is smothered through repetition filmmaking and a dull story." The motion picture has really been canceled out for tearing various plot focuses from Disney's 1992 animated Aladdin, however for some, O'Neal's slump has turned into a faction classic —Erik Lonnquist included. "I'm sad, Will Smith, however you can never supplant the world's most noteworthy no frills motion picture genie," the Esports caster tweeted. "It's an acts of futility."

That haircut may complete him

Marlow Stern, Senior Entertainment Editor at the Daily Beast, was one of various columnists who tweeted about the primary authority pictures of Will Smith in his Genie ensemble, yet as opposed to scrutinizing his throwing or the way that he wasn't blue, Stern simply mentioned an insightful objective fact. "Will Smith's Genie in Aladdin got the Goro haircut from Mortal Kombat," he tweeted, and he's not off-base.

Things being what they are, Smith's Genie isn't the first to take motivation from Goro, the four-outfitted Shokan warrior infamous for his ruthlessness. Movie producer Gabriel Barreto rushed to call attention to that pop star Ariana Grande has additionally been shaking the Goro look. "One encouraged me adore, one showed me tolerance, one instructed me torment," Barreto stated, tweeting a picture of Goro, Grande, and Smith one next to the other for examination. We'll give you a chance to choose who wore it better.

In West Philadelphia, brought up...

On the off chance that there was exclusive you could ensure would bounce in on the Will Smith Genie banter, it's Dave Itzkoff, a culture journalist at The New York Times. At the point when he's not expounding on movies, he takes a shot at books, and his latest discharge was entitled Robin, a life story of Robin Williams. Itzkoff is "a brazen fan" of the late comic, so it was an inescapable result he'd have a comment about Smith's refreshed variant of the Genie.

Rather than attacking the principal pictures of Smith in character, Itzkoff offered a basic (though crazy) arrangement. "It's not very late to rescue this" he inscribed an image of Smith's Genie, however instead of that superbly pruned whiskers is Gritty, the absolutely unpleasant mascot of the Philadelphia Flyers. As we as a whole know, the Fresh Prince was brought up in West Philadelphia, yet by one way or another we can't see Disney going for this late expansion to his Genie ensemble.

Fence your wagers, people!

In the event that you're British and you're a gamer, you've presumably gone over the name Chris Scullion previously. The veteran computer games writer carried out his specialty in the Official Nintendo Magazine at one phase and has additionally composed for CVG, the longest-running British gaming distribution ever. Tragically, the two mags never again exist, yet Scullion still offers his master sentiments by means of his own website, Tired Old Hack. He's likewise dynamic on Twitter, where he joined the discussion over Smith's new Genie ensemble by offering a strange option.

"I see many individuals are troubled that Will Smith's Genie character isn't blue in that EW Aladdin cover," Scullion tweeted. "Try not to stress, yer man Scullion's figured out how to take out two targets with one shot." oneself broadcasted hack concocted an answer just somebody who grew up fixating on computer games during the '90s could invoke — Will Smith's Genie's head on Sonic the Hedgehog's body.

Jada: We have to talk

Saeed Jones is the co-host of the BuzzFeed demonstrate AM2DM and the writer of Prelude to Bruise, an accumulation of ballads that won the 2015 Stonewall Book Award. "In his introduction accumulation, Jones has created a fever dream, something much the same as enchantment," Publishers Weekly said in its survey (by means of Coffee House Press). That sounds exquisite, however when Jones tolled in on the Genie banter, there was nothing especially beautiful about his remark, however he raised a decent point.

"What could Will Smith perhaps have done to merit this?" Jones tweeted. "Jada is going to need to complete an entire scene of Read Table Talk about this hair piece." What Jones intended to state was Red Table Talk, which is the name of Jada Pinkett Smith's Facebook Watch arrangement. Will's significant other has been dishing some truly succulent prattle in late scenes, notwithstanding opening up about her association with previous NBA star Grant Hill, thinking back to the '90s. Who knows, perhaps we'll get the chance to hear Jada's supposition on her hubby's new ensemble.

Doh! Smith is inclining for the wrong reasons

Kyle Cardine is a maker on AM2DM, the BuzzFeed indicate co-facilitated by Saeed Jones. Like Jones, Cardine really wanted to ring in after the main authority pictures of Will Smith as the Genie dropped, however as opposed to tackling the performing artist he chose to jab fun at the web's response to those pictures. "Twitter toward the beginning of today," he stated, tweeting another adaptation of a well known Homer Simpson meme used to pass on cluelessness about a major occasion on the web. In this example, the leaders of the considerable number of individuals around Homer in the bar have been supplanted by that of Smith's Genie.

This was the second time Smith had been made the subject of online criticism in the same number of weeks. Underneath Cardine's tweet, his devotees rushed to raise the debacle that was YouTube Rewind 2018, in which Smith had an unmistakable influence in. The on-screen character's contribution caused a remarkable blend inside the YouTube people group, whose individuals rushed to transfer recordings deriding the A-lister.

Huge Willy reacts

At the point when Smith shared the Entertainment Weekly cover with his Instagram supporters, he probably known about the kickback that was working over on Twitter. While trying to enduring the ship, the performing artist consoled fans that his Genie will undoubtedly be blue, generally. "Check me rockin' the best bunch braid vibes," he inscribed the photograph. "Furthermore, indeed, I'm going to be BLUE! This is the way the Genie is in human/mask shape. My character will be CGI the greater part of the film." However, when the EW images dropped, a lot of individuals were uninformed this was the Genie masked as a human, and one displeased Disney fan volunteered make the Genie blue himself.

Photoshop wizard and mainstream fan artist BossLogic made the fundamental acclimations to the photograph before sharing it on Instagram, where ComicBook.com noticed it. The production depicted the blue Smith Genie (finish with inky bruised eyes and pointy ears) as "somewhat alarming," and that essentially gets the job done perfectly. How about we trust the last form isn't as nightmarish as this.

You realize it's awful when Star Wars is in the blend

Erik Kain is a PC diversion and TV creator right currently completing his claim to fame at Forbes. In the wake of seeing the chief authority pictures from the best in class nitty gritty Aladdin, Kain said that doing "Aladdin without Robin Williams is to some degree like Solo without Harrison Ford." He made this in a tweet, yet it was moreover the component of a feeling piece he composed for Forbes. In it, he fights that Disney genuinely had no genuine alternative but to take an exceptionally astounding edge with the Genie character in light of the fact that the brilliance of Robin Williams' execution couldn't in any capacity, shape or frame be reproduced.

"There wasn't such a wide bay between vivified Belle and genuine to life Emma Watson," Kain expressed, referencing Disney's 2017 genuine re-try of Beauty and the Beast. "They're one of a kind yet they're less phenomenal. Clearly, that is the universally useful in tossing Will Smith instead of someone more Williams-like, if there is such a person. He's adequately particular that we can recognize him as another Genie all around."

We needed for joke, and we got it

Performing artist Joshua Malina is the man who destroyed The West Wing. (Those are his words, not our own.) In his Twitter bio, Malina jokes about the way that a few people appear to consider him in charge of the destruction of the powerhouse political show. His character, Will Bailey, was presented in Season 4, similarly as fan most loved Sam Seaborn (Rob Lowe) was en route out. Malina can chuckle at the thought that he demolished the show, and he apparently thinks Will Smith is bound for a comparable destiny with Aladdin.

In the wake of seeing the main authority pictures of Smith in outfit as the Genie, Malina conveyed a tweet suggesting that his contribution will destroy the film. "I saw 'Will Smith' slanting and my heart dropped!" Malina said. "For a second I thought he would play Genie in a real life adaptation of Aladdin." Other Twitter clients went to Smith's barrier, bringing up that individuals likewise thought Heath Ledger would demolish the Joker before he turned in an Oscar-winning execution in 2008's The Dark Knight.

Resolute fans are staying up for the Fresh Genie

Sean O'Donnell portrays himself as a performer, artist, and picture taker in his Twitter bio, yet he forgot one imperative job: He might be Will Smith's main protector. O'Donnell (who has in excess of 65,000 endorsers on YouTube, where he's best known for his coordinated efforts with Jordan Doww) didn't favor of the manner in which Smith and his fairly surprising Genie get-up were being ridiculed on Twitter, so he hopped to the performing artist's guard. Addressing his Twitter adherents, O'Donnell asked individuals to quit groaning about the disputable Genie outfit and simply get behind Big Willy.

"Everybody tearing separated what Genie looks like in the real life Aladdin however I'll confide in Will Smith till the day I pass on so I'll shake with it," he tweeted. Smith's vocation has been on a descending slide for various years (Digital Spy renamed him the not-so-crisp sovereign in 2017), but rather we're with O'Donnell on this one —how about we sit back and watch what the full CGI Genie looks like before we go discounting the motion picture.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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celticnoise · 6 years

Link

CELTIC legend Davie Hay admits he was a little surprised when he read media reports with ex-Hoops star Andy Ritchie claiming he brought players such as Pierre van Hooijdonk, Jorge Cadete and Paolo di Canio to the club.

The former manager and player laughed: “I think Andy’s getting a little confused – I was the chief scout when these players were signed.

“I did the scouting – and I’ve got the air miles to prove it! Andy’s memory is playing tricks on him.

“I have no doubt he did bring some quality players to Celtic after I left, but I worked hard to get these guys to the club. Just ask anyone who was at Celtic at the time.”

CQN have teamed up with the Hoops icon for a four-part series detailing some of the transfers in which Davie dealt to bring superstars to the club during the Tommy Burns and Wim Jansen managerial eras.

In Hay’s autobiography, ‘The Quiet Assassin’, co-author and close friend Alex Gordon dedicated a chapter to the club ambassador’s spell as chief scout.

Here is part one, the second will be tomorrow and the fascinating series will conclude on Sunday. Enjoy!

***

THE Henrik Larsson deal was on the brink of collapse. I realised something would have to be done within the next crucial twenty-four hours if Celtic were to sign the Swedish international from Dutch side Feyenoord.

If we did not act with the utmost speed there would be no transfer. I had travelled to Gouda, in Holland, where I was to meet Henrik’s agent Rob Jansen and try to put the finishing details on the contract. Wim Jansen had just taken over as Celtic manager in the summer of 1997 and we struck an immediate rapport. I had worked the previous three years with Tommy Burns, who had brought me back to Celtic in June 1994.

Wim, who had been in the Feyenoord team that had beaten Celtic in the European Cup Final in Milan in 1970, remembered me from our playing days and we had a chat about the way ahead for the club. I might not have been there at all because I was close to quitting after Tommy and Billy Stark left.

HAPPY BHOY…Henrik Larsson with his trademark goal celebration.

I was in a quandary because Tommy, Billy and I were a team behind the team. However, Celtic wanted me to stay on and, after a lot of soul searching, I agreed. What would the point of us all being out of a job? I decided to remain and discuss things with Wim. I’m glad I did. He was an impressive bloke and his ambition was obvious a couple of minutes into our wee natter. He wasn’t in Scotland to top up his pension. He was here to do a job for what he called ‘one of the most famous football clubs in the world’.

Wim trusted my judgement completely and I appreciated that. He would listen to your views on a player and would give you the thumbs up or down whether or not we should proceed. He listened to advice and always kept an open mind. Naturally enough, he wasn’t quite up to speed with some of the Scottish players around at the time, but he had an extensive knowledge of the continent. And, with his Feyenoord background, he knew all about a bloke called Henrik Larsson.

‘I want him, Davie,’ he said. ‘He will do well for this club. I know it.’ He had made Henrik one of his essential targets that summer and, armed with that knowledge, I flew to Holland to meet the player’s agent. I had done business with Rob Jansen before and I liked him. He dealt in quality players and Henrik Larsson certainly came into that category.

‘When I met up with Rob in his office, Henrik, his wife Magdalena and baby son Jordan were there, too. The fee had been set at a mere £650,000. It was more of a steal than a deal. There was a clause in the player’s contract that would allow him to move on if Feyenoord received such an offer.

It was obvious that Wim knew the ins and outs of Henrik’s contract and the Swede was as eager to come to Celtic as we were to have him. I had seen him play as an out-and-out left-winger for the Swedish international side and had always quite liked the look of him. He had a fair turn of pace and excellent ball control.

I didn’t realise then what a place he would take in Celtic history and the part he would play in revitalising the club. As Henrik, Magdalena and Jordan sat in the corner, Rob suddenly became very serious. He was a businessman, after all, and, while wanting his best for his client, he wanted a good deal for himself. That seemed fair.

Rob asked for something in the region of £140,000 for his part in the transfer. It was hardly an extravagant amount. I telephoned Jock Brown, the General Manager, and relayed the message. Now, unless you have been living on the moon for the last decade or so, it was well known that Fergus McCann, the club’s owner, was never going to become famous for throwing his money around. ‘Not one more slim dime,’ was one of his oft-used phrases and you knew he meant it. He could be stubborn when it came to loosening those purse strings.

I know Jock would have had to go to Fergus to run the sum by him. Nothing was paid for at Celtic without the say-so of Fergus. I could hear him asking, ‘Can we bring the agent’s fee down a bit?’ That was his style. I reassured Jock that Rob’s fee was not excessive, especially as we were getting a special talent in Henrik for £650,000, which was buttons in the market at that time.

I was asked to see if Rob would modify his cash demands. He proved to be every bit as stubborn as Fergus. It was going to be £140,000 or there was every likelihood that the player would be moving elsewhere. Can you get your head round that thought? Now, as I said, I had a good relationship with the agent and we had worked together before when I helped to bring Pierre van Hooijdonk to Celtic in 1995.

Rob, rightly or wrongly, didn’t think he received a proper percentage of that £1.1million move. He was going to get his money’s worth on this occasion. I realised he was not bluffing. I telephoned Jock again and emphasised that we should pay the £140,000 without a quibble. There was no room for manoeuvre. I reasoned that Celtic were getting a world-class player for well under £1million and that figure seemed to be the starting point in transfer bids for distinctly average players around that time. I said, ‘Make it happen.’

Rob agreed to wait for one more day and, thankfully, Jock didn’t hesitate. He was sent over, completed the negotiations and, on July 27, 1997, the club had a rock-solid contract signed, sealed and delivered. Celtic had just landed a legend for £650,000. It must still rate as one of the greatest transfer deals in the history of football.

I think you could say the club got their money’s worth from the Swede! Even Fergus agreed. In fact, not even the most outrageous optimist could have foreseen what Larsson would bring to Celtic over the next seven years. Remember, Rangers had just completed their sequence of nine successive titles and that matched Celtic’s effort that started in 1966 and carried through to 1974.

They were going for ten-in-a-row and that could not be allowed to happen. Henrik Larsson played an awesome role in derailing the Ibrox juggernaut in his first year at Parkhead.

I wonder how he would have fitted in with the Three Amigos – Pierre van Hooijdonk, Paolo di Canio and Jorge Cadette? They had all departed the scene by the time Henrik arrived, but it would have been highly interesting to see how they could have fitted in together.

It was Fergus, of course, who gave that trio their nickname and there always seemed to be something going on in the background with the club’s owner and these three colourful, charismatic and controversial characters.

TOMORROW: PART TWO: Life with the Three Amigos, the Dutch star who almost signed for Celtic but ended up at Rangers and the £15million world-class defender we could have signed for £800,000!

* Don’t miss the big-match report between Celtic and Rosenborg this evening in your champion CQN.

* ‘Billy McNeill: In Praise of Caesar’ is the latest Celtic book from author Alex Gordon. In this magnificent tribute book to the Celtic legend, chief executive Peter Lawwell has written the Foreword, there’s a personal message from Brendan Rodgers and there are interviews with around forty of Billy’s friends in football including Sir Alex Ferguson, Sir Kenny Dalglish, Davie Hay, Gordon, Strachan, Roy Aitken, Paul McStay, Frank McAvennie, Frank McGarvey, Charlie Nicholas, Pat Bonner, Bertie Auld, Jim Craig, John Clark, Bobby Lennox, Willie Wallace and so many more. It’s on sale now at CQN Bookstore and here is the link: https://ift.tt/2QFy5VA

https://ift.tt/2QL3WEj

#CelticNoise #Celtic #CelticFC #CelticQuickNews

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junker-town · 7 years

Text

Kristaps Porzingis is the right man for New York.

But are the Knicks the right franchise for him? This year will determine a lot.

BOSTON -- Kristaps Porzingis, the one true unicorn, was going to work. The game opened with Al Horford guarding him. Horford is a master of positioning, as crafty as they come, but Horford is 6-9 and Porzingis is 7-3 so the obvious ploy was to shoot over him whenever Porzingis could get an advantage.

KP opened by securing the high post, but his jumper missed the mark. Next he tried attacking the basket on a pick-and-roll, but he couldn’t get all the way to the rim. He then tried to establish low-post position, but there was no entry pass. Finally, he tried to create for himself with a pull-up jumper, but that clanged off the rim.

It went like that for the rest of the night. Porzingis couldn’t connect. Passes and actions that should have funneled through him went nowhere. He couldn’t take advantage of smaller defenders like Horford and Jaylen Brown, and he didn’t do much of anything at all against rookie Semi Ojeleye. For one night, the unicorn was rendered invisible.

His task this season is carrying the team night after night in city after city with all the defensive pressure mounted squarely on his back. Maintaining that level will be the hardest thing for Porzingis. His body makes him unique, and it also makes him a target. He came back from Europe with a maintenance plan to get through the 82 games, focusing on rest and recovery.

“If I can stay fresh throughout the 82 games, then I’ll be fine and I know I’ll be ready to play at a high level,” Porzingis said. “Eating, sleeping, all that. Just non-stop thinking about that. That’s what I did this summer and that’s what I’m going to try to do this season.”

He will have to deal with smaller defenders -- they will all be smaller -- getting into his space and trying to cut him down at the knees. He will have to deal with double and even triple teams. Opponents will be physical with him because how else do you try to stop a 7-3 dude with this kind of game? He knows that, and he thinks he will be better prepared.

Wendell Cruz-USA TODAY Sports

This was not all about Kristaps. The Knicks were bad on Tuesday night. Really bad. They were so bad that afterward Tim Hardaway Jr. and Courtney Lee both lamented the lack of cohesion on the offensive end. “We were all out there running around like we don’t know what’s going on,” Hardaway said. “And it can’t happen.”

Lee took it a step further: “There were a lot of possessions, like the normal eye might not see it, but we messed up on a lot of plays whether it was the ball getting delivered on time, or one or two guys not being on the same page as far as the play calling. That’s on us, we got to pay attention more in practice and make sure we execute when we’re out there.”

Everyone is entitled to an off night, and Porzingis had been brilliant in his first two games, scoring 64 points in a variety of ways. It’s not that he doesn’t have a go-to move yet, it’s that he has so many options at his disposal with his uncommon range, athleticism, and reach.

Porzingis can do everything and that’s part of the problem. He will have to do a lot of it by himself, given the lack of a penetrating guard or a wing creator. With Carmelo Anthony gone, he is the unquestioned man of the New York Knicks. Welcome to the maelstrom.

Porzingis is just 22 years old, one of the handful of wunderkinds currently playing in the NBA tasked with carrying franchises even while they develop their own games. That task is made harder in that he is playing for a team in the midst of a transition wrapped in a transformation.

That his team is in New York, as opposed to say Milwaukee or Minnesota, means that his every move and every utterance will be chopped up and scrutinized for backpage consumption. He will not be allowed to falter anonymously.

Porzingis is one of the few young players who seems not only equipped to handle New York, but born to play the role. He is funny and sharp enough to spar with the New York press and he’s blessed with a game that’s been sanctified by every discerning corner of New York fandom. He is their adopted Latvian son and woe to anyone who tries to mess with him. Including the New York Knicks.

Photo by Jeff Zelevansky/Getty Images

It’s hard to remember a Knick savior that’s ever had this amount of goodwill built up at the beginning of his tenure. Lord knows Latrell Sprewell, Allan Houston, Amar’e Stoudemire, and Carmelo Anthony had their skeptics and critics throughout their runs. Even the sainted Patrick Ewing had to deal with the ill-fated twin-towers experiment along Bill Cartwright and a handful of coaching changes in his first few seasons.

That will come in handy because this season figures to test everyone’s resolve. The Knicks have a couple of young players they like, including rookie point guard Frank Ntilikina and young big man Willy Hernangomez. But Ntilikina has been dealing with injuries since summer league and Hernangomez has been dropped from the rotation in favor of Enes Kanter and Kyle O’Quinn.

The Knicks are a year away from being a year away. In an ideal world, they’ll develop their kids while Porzingis adjusts to life as the number-one option. They’ll make individual progress while losing a sufficient number of games to draw a high draft pick and take a shot on a player like Luka Doncic, Michael Porter, or Marvin Bagley.

For just about every other franchise in the league, this would be easy. The Knicks are never easy. Porzingis is playing for his third coach in as many seasons, if you count the interim tenure of Kurt Rambis who wanted him to play like it was 1989. He’s also on his third lead executive, if you count the interim run of team president Steve Mills, who signed Hardaway for $71 million before the team hired Scott Perry.

From last year: How the Knicks began to rebuild their offense around Kristaps Porzingis.

In Perry, there is hope. He is widely respected throughout the league and widely connected. He is not under the spell of a particular basketball philosophy. As a decision-maker, Perry offers the best kind of hope for a rebuilding franchise: patient, restrained, and smart.

The first of many tests to that approach is already happening with Eric Bledsoe due to be traded after a fallout with Phoenix. Bledsoe is exactly the kind of player the Knicks have pursued in panic-driven maneuvers over the years. While he would undoubtedly help now, he would also compromise a good chunk of their future. The Knicks are reportedly not inclined to deal any of their young players. This is a good sign.

If the Knicks can just give this a little bit of time ... if Ntilinka can be the point guard of their dreams, if Hernangomez can provide an interior compliment to Porzingis, if they can simply maneuver from Point A to Point B without a self-inflicted catastrophe, then there is hope.

Porzingis offers the best route toward a long and prosperous run. Teams spend years trying to luck into a player like this in the draft. Landing one is the hardest part, regardless of front office dexterity or brilliant maneuvering. Now he just needs to live up to the role.

“At the end of the day I always try to make things simple for myself,” he said. “I’m just playing basketball out there. I know it’s going to be physical. I know guys are going to try and come at me, but at the end of the day just play basketball and have fun.”

Good luck having fun in New York. The city is many things, but fun hasn’t really been part of the equation. Kristaps Porzingis could be the one to change that dynamic. In many ways, he should be the one to usher in a bold new world for Knicks basketball. It would take a unicorn, frankly.

It would take someone like Kristaps Porzingis.

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