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queenburd · 1 year

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ITS TIME FOR THE GAY CONTENT. HAPPY PRIDE TIME FOR IDIOT GAY.

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“Right,” the narrator says, voice unwavering, “you ready?”

Stanley nods. The hand in his squeezes, and then lets go. He approaches the two buttons carefully. Behind him, the narrator clears his throat, and speaks his line.

“And when at last he found the source of the room's power, he knew it was his duty, his obligation, to put an end to this horrible place and to everything it stood for.”

His performance is as strong as ever. Stanley inhales deeply to brace himself.

Then he slams the ON button, turns, and runs.

The fellow is only a few steps behind him, and he breathes out, “Oh Stanley, you didn't just activate the controls, did you?” before he drops the rest. There’s little time for him to speak, of course—the game is afoot.

They’ve been trying to beat this game for so many runs now that it’s nearly muscle memory. Stanley runs to the four computer screens and his friend to the other side of the control room, to the monitor under the painted numbers 0521. The screens display nothing until the countdown properly starts, but it’s a matter of getting to their places.

God, Stanley is so glad he convinced his friend to do this. It’s such a thrill, every time, it gets his heart racing every time they get closer to the solution. To beating the mini game the narrator has made just for him.

It feels like ages ago now that the fellow finally grinned at him (grinned! With his face!) and told him, “well, go on then, see how far you can get”. Delight had painted the narrator’s features as he stood at the top of the stairs by the double doors and monologued while his protagonist ran about the room, slamming buttons to try to make sense out of what was usually senseless.

These buttons were never supposed to do anything, but he can’t resist indulging Stanley. He’s a pushover. Stanley loves him.

Now the fellow shouts a series of colors, and Stanley presses the buttons of the four monitors in that order. The screens flash, then a green check mark appears on them as they chime. Step one, done.

The both of them move in sync. This was the hardest part, this part took the most trial and error. Each monitor in the room displays a number in a certain color. The numbered button has to be hit in the same moment that the colored button attached to the monitor’s console is hit. It is a team effort that requires a lot of movement, a lot of back and forth on both parts as they each work to resolve the monitors closest to the numbers they stand near.

This game can only be beaten in co-op. It needs two people to even get close to success. And it requires luck, too. A good amount of luck.

He presses the heel of his palm into a green button at the same moment the narrator pushes the number 2 flush. The monitor chimes, goes black. Somewhere in the room, a monitor displaying a battery lights up, the display either charged or partially charged.

His heart is racing. They’ve gotten a little over half of the monitors done, and the timer has just gone back to 1:47:00. This is a good run, Stanley can feel it in his bones. They’re going to manage it this time.

They’ve gotten so close in the past. So, so frustratingly close. It’s usually the damn number 4 that trips them up, high up on the stairwell hard to get to. They try to leave it for last and if they have to, they use the big red button in the console up front to reset the remaining monitors. The less times they have to hit the number 4, the better.

How many times have the pair of them tried to beat this game, now? He would wonder if they’ve hit the triple digits yet, if he wasn’t so preoccupied.

It’s been enough times that they can’t do their attempts consecutively anymore. They have to take breaks, they can only do this ending so many times before the frustration builds to a point where they start getting snippy with each other. When that happens they would stop and put the game aside, do something else. A normal run, a familiar ending, something to ease the tension.

Forty-eight seconds left. Which technically means only eighteen—once the clock hits thirty seconds again all the monitors will change to “GOODBYE EMPLOYEE 427” and it won’t matter anymore. They’re cutting it really, really close—there’s two monitors left and they both display a 4. Do they opt to reset the button and risk the new displays showing numbers far from where they stand, or try to bolt up the stairwell?

A choice like this would make the narrator freeze up—has in the past. Has cost them the game. So now Stanley points to the big red button that the fellow is close to, a command he follows without hesitation. He slams it down

RNJesus is on their side. A blue number 1, and a pink number 3. It’s perfect.

Forty-three seconds. The narrator smacks the number 1 as Stanley jams the pads of his fingers into the blue button. He bolts to the number 3 and the narrator nearly trips on his way to the monitor while the building shakes. Thirty-seven seconds.

Two buttons press in sync. All the monitors display the green check mark. The battery displays are all fully charged. Thirty-three seconds. The narrator, out of breath, hauls himself to the standing console that requests he attempt a power surge. The blue screen lights up his face.

SURGE DETECTED. MANUAL OVERRIDE REQUIRED. PLEASE ACTIVATE FAILSAFE.

At thirty-one seconds and all steps completed, Stanley smashes his palm into the power button on the failsafe monitor.

The room goes completely dark. The monitor has gone black. Not even the lights in the center pit are on.

And then the massive countdown screen displays a new message.

EMERGENCY DETONATION ABORTED.

The monitors all light up with the same display:

FACILITY ACTIVE. WELCOME ADMIN EMPLOYEE 427.

They’ve done it.

The lights come back on as one. In the pit under the catwalks, the rim lights are an oscillation of green and white. Overhead, a new song plays, celebratory and triumphant.

Stanley whoops. The narrator is howling with joy, fists thrown in the air where he stands by the console.

“Yes! YES! Woo! We did it! We did it!”

God, Stanley wants to howl with delight. He wants to run laps, he wants to spin in circles until he’s dizzy.

He runs from where he stands by the failsafe button, to where the narrator is fist-pumping the air triumphantly. The fellow laughs madly with joy when Stanley scoops him up in a bear hug, lifting and spinning him in the air like he’s light as a feather.

God, Stanley is on top of the world. He could do anything right now. His narrator’s arms are around his neck and he’s laughing in his ear, that wild laugh where he’s just so bloody proud.

There is so much joy in Stanley’s chest. He spins his narrator again, feeling how he laughs, and then Stanley tilts his head up and kisses him.

The narrator’s mouth is warm, open, jaw loose. Stanley closes his eyes and feels how that lower lip gives. He lets the world fall away.

There’s a little noise against his mouth, startled. The jaw goes tense, the body in his arms stiff—but even as he registers it and the fight or flight instincts kick in, pulling him back, the narrator makes another noise and relaxes again, mouth chasing his. There’s no chance for disconnect.

The slightest of head tilts—then they’re even closer. His nose presses into the skin of a cheek. The mouth against his parts and lets him in. There is a hand in his hair.

Stanley doesn’t need to breathe, which is good, because he could do this forever; but he eventually pulls back for air anyway. He opens his eyes, mouth open while he pants.

The narrator blinks at him, looking dazed. His eyes are lidded, like he’s just opened them to try to seek out why Stanley stopped. His mouth is pink. So are his cheeks. He’s fucking gorgeous, lips parted, hand sliding from Stanley’s shoulder to press the tips of his fingers to that kiss-swollen lower lip.

Stanley looks at him, beautiful and breathless and speechless—and then finally registers just what the hell he’s done.

Why did he do that. Why did he do that.

“Stanley?”

He shouldn’t have done that, why did he do that, why couldn’t he control himself? Why is he like this? Why doesn’t he think, why is he so stupid?

“Stanley!”

The narrator’s not like him, he’s overstepped, he’s so stupid, just Stupid Stanley, who just kissed his only friend like an idiot, who’s ruined everyth—

The narrator’s hands press to his cheeks and then that mouth is back on his.

It’s sloppy. It’s rough. There’s the brush of teeth and a pair of glasses press into his nose, but even as he thinks it the narrator tries to correct, softening the force and adjusting the angle. Stanley sees the squeeze of the narrator’s eyes shut tight, before his own slide shut again.

Oh. Right. Yes. This is why. This is right.

He kisses back, hand finding a cheek. The narrator kisses him with a startling desperation, like he might never get the chance again.

This time, when they pull away, it is the narrator’s turn to look anxious.

“Was—was that alright? I didn’t, I didn’t know what to do, you were panicking, and I just—oh, did I do it wrong? I shouldn’t have presumed, I—“

Stanley cups his cheek, thumb stroking the skin there. The third kiss is slower. There’s intent behind it. Certainty. It’s a much softer thing, it feels like comfort.

The narrator makes that noise again, something like a relieved moan. That’s it, sweetheart. There we are.

Stanley’s heart is slowing. There’s a hand on his chest, his fingers are on the narrator’s hip, and they kiss and kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like they were made for just this.

When they finally part, he doesn’t go far. He presses his forehead to his narrator’s, his eyes closed, and the fellow is content to be held. Their noses brush. They fit.

The triumphant music has long since ended, the silence creeping in around them. Stanley finds he is content with it. His eyes stay closed even when the narrator finally finds his voice.

“Could we…. Stanley, could we have been doing that this whole time?!”

He snorts, the upset and outrage in the fellow’s voice utterly shattering the quiet peace of the moment and surprising a laugh out of Stanley. His face breaks into a grin as he laughs, pressing his forehead harder against his friend’s.

“I can’t believe you’ve been letting me go on about this story and its themes and these damn buttons when this entire time—Stanley, stop laughing, I’m serious!”

He nearly doubles over with the fit of giggles. As it is he presses his face into the narrator’s collar, knit acrylic on his cheek, and laughs so hard it hurts.

“Unbelievable! Utterly ridiculous, I’m here bemoaning all the time lost and here you are, laughing like a lunatic and not kissing me!!”

He throws his head back and laughs and laughs and laughs.

He loves this bastard. Really, he does. They’ve never put it in so many words, but he’s loved him for years now and he knows—well—he shouldn’t assume, but he’s pretty certain—

“Yes, yes, I’m in love with an idiot man who has me in his arms and is fully capable of expressing his adoration of me and yet is choosing to laugh instead of fixing his mouth back onto mine where it should go,” the fellow huffs, trying to sound stern and offended and not at all like he just told Stanley an open secret.

Stanley lifts his head from the fellow’s shoulder, grinning, an eyebrow raised in challenge. Why does Stanley have to be the one to fix the problem, hm? If the narrator is so upset, then he should do something to fix the situation.

The face he’s met with has been painted with irritation, but now it shifts to surprise, the narrator’s cheeks flushing all the way to his ears. Surprise and uncertainty, his eyes wide and darting away from Stanley’s face. He mumbles something that the protagonist might have missed if he wasn’t mere inches away.

“M’not as good at it as you are. Obviously.”

Oh, sweetheart. His sweetheart. Stanley presses both his palms to the narrator’s jawline with tenderness, and gives him what he wants.

It takes practice, he thinks. Not that Stanley has had more of it, but he’s had longer to know how his body moves and his mouth works. He’ll teach him. He’ll teach the narrator whatever he wants.

The narrator wraps a hand around his wrist but does not pull him away. A hum purrs in his chest. Stanley loves him so very much.

This is a shorter kiss, but Stanley follows it up with a peck on the mouth and then a peck on the cheek. Okay, okay, if they keep this up they’ll never leave this room. There are much more comfortable places to kiss in this building.

“Mm,” the narrator hums distractedly. “You’re right I suppose.” He’s clearly not thinking about any of them, too busy looking at Stanley’s mouth.

Sweetheart.

“Mm.”

Narrator.

“What?”

Reset?

The distant look clears and the narrator furrows his brow, looking irritated. “Oh for—Stanley, look at the monitors.”

Caught off guard, Stanley glances at the closest screen. Underneath the words “WELCOME ADMIN EMPLOYEE 427” is a new line of text.

> RESTART SIMULATION Y/N

Oh.

“An idiot,” the fellow in his arms groans, dropping his head onto Stanley’s shoulder to hide his face. “I’m in love with an idiot.”

Okay look, he was a little distracted, alright.

“Really, really stupid, button obsessed, stubborn, bratty—“

Look, does the bastard want more kisses or not?!

The narrator’s mouth snaps shut. Stanley smirks. Better.

“Mean,” the fellow adds under his breath as Stanley half turns to put his hand on the standing console, fingers hovering over the Y.

Yeah, Stanley loves him too. So very, very much.

#tsp #the sparrow parable #they did it guys.#they did the gay.#may writes

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helyiios · 7 months

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Just imagine Benji choosing to sacrifice himself to protect Ethan or to help Ethan with the mission, being convinced that his life is not very important. Whether Benji survives or not is up to you to decide, but the choice is very clear...

Bombs, by some cruel trick of fate, had become his thing.

He knew them inside out, knew how to disarm them in less time than anyone in the IMF, he'd grown into the bomb expert of the whole agency, and he doesn't even know how that had happened.

The bomb in front of him, though, was completely different. It wasn't like the one Lane had strapped him to, not the one Gabriel had threatened the airport with, it was worse. It was worse, and the clock was ticking, and he was losing patience, and nothing was working, and Ethan was busy killing the last men that were trying to get into the room as he worked his magic on the weapon.

There was sweat glistening on his forehead, and his hair had come undone in a messy way, the one that revealed he was actually curly haired.

"How's it looking, Benji ?" the other agent asks as he retrieves his knife from an assailant's skull, "all good ?"

"I'm trying," Benji retorts, trying to crack a smile and failing horribly. "It's—it's a complicated one. I've tried a bunch of things, but..."

"Can I help ?"

"You're lovely, but no, not with this."

Ethan knew how to do many, many things, but bombs weren't his area of expertise. Hell, if the best guy at it wasn't making it work, Ethan wouldn't be of much help, bless him.

Benji's eyes drift to the rapidly moving numbers, notes the 00:07:59, clenches his jaw. His body was hiding the actual timer from his friend's vision, but it wouldn't be long until he'd notice.

Fuck, he swallows thickly, trying to think, fuck. This wouldn't do.

"I committed the plans to memory," he settles on saying, "you've got to get down to the basement, there's a...there's a bomb shelter, you need to go, now."

"What ?" comes Ethan's genuine surprise, "why would I do that ?"

"Because—" the younger man breathes in, shaking his head in defeat, "because I might not be able to defuse this one, E. And I'd rather you be safe."

"Bullshit," is his immediate reply, "if you can't do it, come down to the shelter with me."

"I can't," Benji can't help but laugh, "I can't let go of the trigger, or else it'll explode on us, right now."

"What are you talking about ?" Ethan worriedly asks as he walks up to him, "what is..."

His eyes widen comically as he takes in the contraption, staring at Benji's right hand firmly pressed on one side of it, the left one fiddling desperately with the remaining parts.

"Y—"

"It automatically activated itself when we got inside the room, I had to slam my hand on the trigger to contain it, and it—it started the countdown," Benji explains as calmly as his beating heart allows him, "there's not much time left, you've got to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you," Ethan firmly says, frowning like there was no other answer that was acceptable.

"I appreciate the sentiment, really, I do, but we've got to be smart about this," his teammate almost groans, still busy with trying to find a way to defuse it, "we can"t stay here like idiots and wait for the explosion to blow us to bits."

"Well, I'm not going to hide into the basement while you're there," the other counters, wincing at bit at the graphic description just given. "I won't."

"God, is this—is this some ego thing ? You don't want to let me do all the work ?"

"No, I just don't want to leave you alone in there !"

"Ethan, you can't work with bombs, and it's okay, you're great at many other things, but right now you'd be of much better use far and safe !"

"I want you to be safe !"

"FUCK, ETHAN !" Benji suddenly yells, taking him by surprise as his entire face morphed into pure wrath. "FOR CHRIST'S SAKE ! LISTEN TO ME !"

"I'm listening, I just—"

"You're the IMF's most treasured asset, and I am not letting you die at my hands because of my own inadequacy to deal with this."

"Benji—“

"There's no use of two of us being here, I—“ he pauses, biting the inside of his cheek to compose himself, casting a sorrowful glance at the other man. "Just—Ethan. I might not make it. Do you understand that ?"

And Ethan's entire expression collapses, and he hates to see it. Truly, he does.

"I don't—look, this bomb's impossible, and there're less than five minutes left, realistically I'm not going to fucking make it, E. I'm not. And—" his voice shakes, and he does his best to keep face, to keep the tears at bay, "and I'm at peace with that. I've been at peace with it for the past ten minutes, actually, and I—"

"But I'm not," the other agent cuts him off, tone icy. "I'm not leaving you."

"You're not fucking listening to me !"

"You wanna know something, Benj ?" Ethan roughly asks, fists clenching. "Anyone else, I would've left. Everyone always tells me I'm selfless, and that I want to save the whole world, and it's true, but I would've—maybe I would've made my peace with it, too, and I would've gone to that basement, had it been anyone else."

"Then why—“

"Because it's you, Benji !" he exclaims, expression open and horrifyingly vulnerable, "I already lost you, I—Lane, he almost took you away from me, twice, I'm not letting that happen. I'm not losing you."

"I'm not going to make it, E," Benji softly says, a desolate smile casting a shadow on his expression. "I'm not. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't fucking say that," Ethan all but growls, "you're the best at this, there must be a way, something you haven't see, there's—“

"I'm not going to find it in four minutes thirty."

"Benji, please," the older man pleads, desperate, "I won't be able to live with myself if I abandon you here. I won't, I just—"

"And I won't live with myself if I know I've kept you here and fucking killed you !"

"I can't leave."

"Ethan, I'm begging you," Benji insists, "you need to go."

"No !"

"You stupid man !" he shouts out, red with anger, "don't you get it ?! I'm replaceable ! I'm nothing ! You're Ethan fucking Hunt, for Christ's sake ! You can't die ! Not now, not ever !"

"And I don't want to exist in a world you're not a part of !" Ethan yells back, eyes glistening with tears, "I can't ! I can't, I just—"

He pauses, raising a hand to his lids, shaking the wetness away.

"I love you, Benji," he finally chokes out, his entire body shaking with the admission, "so much. I love you, I'm in love with you, and I'm not leaving you."

"Then I'm asking you," Benji gently replies, voice just as shattered, "I'm imploring you. Ethan, please," he begs, closing his eyes, turning to hide his state, "leave."

"Benji, Benji please, don't make me do this."

"I love you too," the other man breathes out, "I have, for a while actually. I know this isn't the best way to announce it, but I wanted to say it back at least once."

"Benj—"

"If you love me, then go," Benji nods difficultly, "now."

"I can't, I—“

"I can't promise you anything, E, but I promise to you, I'll try everything. But I need to know you're safe to focus. Please."

Ethan's jaw clenches, and he finally looks down pitifully, not daring meeting his eyes.

"Go," Benji whispers, "For me. Live for me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too, E."

He takes him in one last time, takes his wild hair and his bruised cheeks, takes his the brightness of his eyes and the way his suit was crumpled.

He turns on his heels and runs.

He runs.

Benji watches him leave, the bomb growing warmer and warmer under his hands with each passing seconds.

He won't go down without a fight.

#mission impossible #mission impossible fic #benthan #benji dunn #ethan hunt #ask #snovyda

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kadextra · 11 months

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hiya :3

i haven't been able to catch up the last couple days, would you mind summarizing what happened with the countdown dungeon?

yes anon no problem! :] to summarize all of it:

Jaiden’s cucurucho tasks led her and The Jaidens (cellbit, bbh, foolish) to the “Noise Dungeon,” where they had to fight down 9 levels underground, cleared waves of mobs, ending up at the final room with that red countdown timer. The room being a freezer with 8 spaces/pods(?) in the wall, and the timer counted down for 3 days.

3 days later the “Time’s Up” event began. on this day it was pouring down rain that never stopped (it doesn’t usually rain on the island) and the binary code entity had seemingly hacked into the egg’s daily quests screen. The binary in the quests spelled out “your time is almost up.”

Everyone waited for the timer to hit 00:00:00, and when it did QSMP in chat told everyone online to go to the Noise Dungeon again. A unique screen also played saying “TIME IS UP” that glitched from red to green. back in the dungeon, they once again had to go down the 9 floors and fight through mobs, but now with more people coming along.

However, this time in the final freezer room, the code entity was just hovering there and waiting for everyone. It didn’t attack and simply dropped a book with instructions. It told the group of people to split into 2 teams and each go to different sets of coordinates.

At the coordinates, each team had to reconnect the wiring of two machines that started building train tracks.

Afterwards, everyone heard a loud sound from a train and got a message from QSMP in the chat that said “the train is leaving.” everyone started running asap to the train station and down the tracks. But it was too late, the trains were too fast and disappeared into the now-working nether portals at the end. some people managed to get into the nether but got kicked out right after (in meta admins don’t want them going there yet it’s still being worked on)

To close off the whole event, this image was posted by QSMPGlobal twitter as a teaser of what will come next…! :D

#qsmp #qsmp summary #qsmp lore #asks #anon <3

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mariacallous · 11 months

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Amid a desert landscape a visionary unveils an invention that will forever change the world as we know it.

That’s the climactic scene of the Christopher Nolan biopic Oppenheimer, about the eponymous J. Robert Oppenheimer, the “father of the atomic bomb.” It’s also the opening scene of the Barbie movie, directed and co-written by indie auteur Greta Gerwig, which opened on the same day as Oppenheimer.

Despite the two films’ radically different subject matter and tone—one a dramatic examination of man’s hubris and the threat of nuclear apocalypse and the other a neon-drenched romp about Mattel’s iconic fashion doll—they have far more in common than just their release date. Both movies consider the complicated legacies of two American icons and how to grapple with and perhaps even atone for them.

In Oppenheimer, the desert scene depicts the Trinity test, the world’s first detonation of a nuclear bomb near Los Alamos, New Mexico, on July 16, 1945. A brilliant but flawed theoretical physicist and the rest of his team work frantically to develop the weapon for the United States before the Nazis can beat them to the punch; they then gather on bleak, lunar-white sands near their secret laboratory to test the terrifying creation.

The countdown timer ticks to 00:00:00, the proverbial big red button is pushed, and a blast ignites the sky—a blinding white flash that quickly morphs into a towering inferno. Everything goes silent as Oppenheimer stares in awe from behind a makeshift protective barrier at what he has created.

Suddenly, he begins experiencing flashes of a different kind, premonitions of the human horror and suffering his weapon will wreak. Nolan is unambiguously signaling to the audience that this is a pivotal moment for the world, and for Oppenheimer personally, as what was once merely a theoretical idea has become monstrously real. The fallout, both literally and figuratively, will be out of Oppenheimer’s control.

Barbie’s critical desert scene comes not at the film’s climax but at its very beginning. The movie opens with a parody of the famous “The Dawn of Man” scene from Stanley Kubrick’s classic 1968 science fiction film, 2001: A Space Odyssey. As a red-orange sunrise breaks across a rocky desert landscape, a voiceover (from none other than Dame Helen Mirren) begins: “Since the beginning of time, since the first little girl ever existed, there have been dolls. But the dolls were always and forever baby dolls.” On screen, underscored by the ominous notes of Richard Strauss’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra,” little girls sit amid dusty canyon walls playing with baby dolls.

“Until…” Mirren says. And then comes the reveal: The little girls look up to see a massive, monolith-sized Margot Robbie, dressed in the black and white-striped swimsuit of the very first Barbie doll. She lifts her sunglasses and winks. The little girls are stunned—and, like the apes in the classic sci-fi movie, they begin to angrily dash their baby dolls against the ground.

This is Barbie’s mythic origin story: Once upon a time, little girls could only play with baby dolls meant to socialize them into wanting to be good wives and, eventually, mothers. Then came Ruth Handler, who in 1959 decided to create a doll with an adult woman’s body, adult women’s fashions, and adult women’s careers so that little girls could dream of being more than just wives and mothers. And the rest is history. Thanks to such iterations as doctor Barbie, chef Barbie, scientist Barbie, professional violinist Barbie, and beyond, Barbie opened up young girls to a world of possibilities and, Mirren says, “All problems of feminism and equal rights [were] solved.”

Well, not so fast: Mirren adds one final, snarky beat: “At least,” she says, “that’s what the Barbies think.”

Thus Gerwig introduces the central tension that animates the movie: Handler set out to create a feminist toy to empower and inspire young girls. But we sitting in the audience in 2023 know that things worked out a little differently. In the intervening years, Barbie would come under fire from feminists and other critics for a whole host of sins: encouraging unrealistic and harmful beauty standards that contribute to negative body image issues, eating disorders, and depression among pre-adolescent girls; lacking diversity and perpetuating white supremacy, ableism, and heteronormativity; objectifying women; promoting consumerism and capitalism; and even contributing to greenhouse gas emissions.

And here is the core parallel between Barbie and Oppenheimer: Two iconic American creators who ostensibly meant well but whose creations caused irreparable harm. And two iconic American directors (Nolan is British-American) who set out to tell their stories from a very modern perspective, humanizing them while also addressing their harmful legacies.

But while Nolan obviously had the much harder task—no matter how much harm you think Barbie has done to the psyches of young girls over the years, there’s simply no comparison to the human toll of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the environmental impact of decades of nuclear testing, or the cost of the nuclear arms race—oddly enough, it’s Gerwig who ends up taking her job of atonement far more seriously.

As its opening scene shows, the Barbie movie lets the audience know right from the start that it’s self-aware. It knows that Barbie is problematic. And it’s going to go there.

And it does—almost to the point of overkill. The basic plot of the movie is this: Barbie is living happily in Barbie Land, a perfect pink plastic world where she and her fellow Barbies run everything from the White House to the Supreme Court and have everything they could ever want, from dream houses to dream cars to dreamy boyfriends (Ken)—the last of which they treat as little more than accessories.

But suddenly, things start to go wrong in Barbie’s happy feminist utopia, and to fix it, she is forced to journey into the real world—our world—accompanied by Ken, who insists on going with her. When she does, she realizes that contrary to what she believed (as Mirren told us in the opening scene), the invention of Barbies didn’t solve gender inequality in the real world. In the real world, Barbie is confronted not only with the dominance of the patriarchy (she discovers, for instance, that Mattel’s CEO is a man, played by Will Ferrell), but also with the fact that young girls seem to hate her.

In a crucial early scene, Robbie’s Barbie encounters ultracool Gen-Z teen Sasha (played by Ariana Greenblatt), who delivers a scathing monologue about everything that’s wrong with Barbie, the doll and cultural symbol—basically a checklist of all the criticisms lobbed at Barbie over the years, from promoting unrealistic beauty standards to destroying the planet with rampant capitalism. Barbie is crestfallen.

Meanwhile, there’s a subplot involving Ken’s parallel discovery of patriarchy, and how awesome and different it seems to be from his subjugated life in Barbie Land. Ken proceeds to go full men’s rights, heading back to Barbie Land and seizing power. He transforms Barbie’s dream house into Ken’s Mojo Dojo Casa House, where Barbies serve men and “every night is boys’ night!”

Barbie enlists the help of Sasha and her mom (played by America Ferrera)—a Mattel employee who secretly dreams up ideas for new, more realistic Barbies such as anxiety Barbie—to unseat Ken and restore female power in Barbie Land. Along the way, Ferrera’s character delivers the film’s other major feminist monologue, about how hard it is being a woman in the real world.

The monologues are unsubtle, as are the repeated mentions of concepts like the patriarchy. In every scene and nearly every line, the movie hits the audience over the head with the pro-feminism message. Gerwig knows what her job is—to atone for Barbie’s sins (and, yes, help Mattel sell more dolls)—and she makes sure everyone knows that she has fully understood the assignment.

But it’s in the film’s quieter, more tender moments that Gerwig’s background as an indie filmmaker and her true talent shine through, and where she’s able to communicate the message in a subtler, but ultimately more impactful, way. The scene where Barbie in the real world sees an elderly woman for the first time (old people and wrinkles don’t exist in Barbie Land, obviously) and is stunned at how beautiful she is, wrinkles and all. Or the scenes where Barbie talks quietly with her deceased creator, an elderly Handler (played by Rhea Perlman), who explains that the name Barbie was an homage to Handler’s daughter, Barbara, who inspired her to make the doll.

The overall result is a movie that, even if a bit ham-fisted in its over-the-top messaging, doesn’t shy away from the uglier parts of Barbie’s legacy. It looks them right in the face, wrinkles and all.

I said above that the Trinity test scene is the climactic scene in Oppenheimer, but that’s not really the case. For a movie about the complicated life and legacy of the man credited with creating the world’s most destructive weapon, it should be the climax. You might imagine it would follow with a denouement of the inventor confronting the reality that his creation is used to kill tens of thousands of Japanese civilians and sparks an arms race that threatens to destroy all of humanity.

These scenes are in there, but they are given short shrift next to the other story Nolan wants to tell: that of how Oppenheimer, once considered an American hero, was mistreated by his country in the postwar years. As McCarthy-era fears of communist infiltration grip the country, Oppenheimer’s previous ties to the Communist Party (he never joined the party himself, but he had close family members and friends who were members, and he supported various left-wing causes) are mysteriously brought to the FBI’s attention despite already being well documented. His security clearance is revoked, and his career working with the U.S. government on nuclear issues ends.

It is this storyline—not the apocalyptic destruction of two Japanese cities—that is given the most pathos. Much of the movie’s three-hour run time—and nearly all of its third act—centers on what we are clearly meant to see as the great evil that was done to this man who did so much for his country. The real climax of the film is not the Trinity test, nor even the bombings of Japan (which are not even shown in the movie), but rather the moment we learn who betrayed Oppenheimer by handing over his security file to the FBI.

This is the shocking revelation that is meant to induce gasps in the audience, not the images of charred and irradiated bodies. In fact, those images aren’t even shown to us, the viewers. In the scene where Oppenheimer and his team are shown photos of the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the camera stays tight on Oppenheimer’s face as he reacts to the images—a reaction that consists of him putting his head down to avoid seeing them.

It is an act of cowardice on Oppenheimer’s part, yes, but also on Nolan’s. Indeed, the only glimpses we get of the macabre effects of the atom bomb take place in Oppenheimer’s fevered imagination, and even then, they are brief flashes used for shock value: skin flapping off the beautiful face of an admiring female colleague; the charred, faceless husk of a child’s body Oppenheimer accidentally steps on; a male colleague vomiting from the effects of radiation. Of the Japanese victims, there is nothing. They remain theoretical, faceless.

Nolan has said that he chose not to depict the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki not to sanitize them but because the film’s events are shown from Oppenheimer’s point of view. “We know so much more than he did at the time,” Nolan said at a screening of the movie in New York. “He learned about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki on the radio, the same as the rest of the world.”

But in reading the numerous interviews he’s given about the movie, it’s also clear that Nolan fundamentally sees Oppenheimer as a tragic hero—Nolan has repeatedly called Oppenheimer “the most important person who ever lived”—and Oppenheimer’s story as a distinctly American one. “I believe you see in the Oppenheimer story all that is great and all that is terrible about America’s uniquely modern power in the world,” he told the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. “It’s a very, very American story.”

That Nolan’s film devotes so much runtime to Oppenheimer’s point of view and how he was tragically betrayed by his country is partly due to the fact that the film is not an original story but rather an adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of the great scientist, American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer. That book also places Oppenheimer being stripped of his security clearance at its center. But that didn’t mean Nolan had to do the same in his adaptation. That was a choice. And the end result is what military technology writer Kelsey Atherton aptly described as “a 3 hour long argument that the greatest victim of atomic weaponry was Oppenheimer’s clearance.”

At a time when Americans are struggling to reckon with their country’s past and how it has shaped the present—from fights over how (or even whether) to teach children about the legacy of slavery and Jim Crow; to debates, including in these very pages, over the role (or lack thereof) of NATO expansion in Russia’s decision to wage war on Ukraine; to retrospectives on the myriad failures of the U.S. war in Afghanistan; and beyond—the fact that the two biggest films in theaters right now are attempting to confront the legacies of two American icons, the nuclear bomb and Barbie, is understandable and perhaps even impressive.

But the impulse to look away from the ugliest parts of those legacies remains strong, and Oppenheimer never fully faces them.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

Photo

Steve Brodner

* * * *

When Americans went to bed last Friday evening, Fox News was running a “countdown timer” to the apocalypse. What apocalypse, you ask? In Fox’s telling, the “apocalypse” was to be heralded by the expiration of Title 42, a Trump-era Covid policy that allowed for the expedited removal of foreign nationals seeking asylum in the U.S. (A video of the countdown timer can be seen here at the 55-second mark.)

According to Fox, when the Title 42 countdown timer reached zero hour, “hordes of illegal immigrants” would bust through the US border and overwhelm American civilization. See, e.g., Laura Ingraham on Fox News, The scenes you're seeing at the border are exactly what Democrats want. Per Ingraham,

In T-minus two hours now, hundreds of thousands of foreigners gaming our immigration system will begin pouring in. Now, after they get there, though, they're going to be asked where they want to go, then they're going to get their free bus tickets, all courtesy of U.S. taxpayers.

The countdown timer to the apocalypse reached 00:00 on Friday evening at midnight. And then . . . nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing. According to the Department of Homeland Security, border crossings began trending down—by as much as 50%. It is, of course, too soon to declare the trend permanent, but if the apocalypse is upon us, Fox miscalculated the date.

As of Sunday evening, the story of the “Title 42 apocalypse” had almost disappeared from the Fox News website. It was buried as twenty-six stories below the headline on Sunday, which blared, Former US attorney says top levels of DOJ, FBI making 'political decisions' not to investigate Bidens.

But even Fox was forced to admit that border crossings decreased concurrently with the expiration of Title 42—although it did so in a back-handed way. See Fox News, Biden says border looks ‘much better than you all expected’ after Title 42 ends, has no plans to visit.

As Fox conceded in its twenty-sixth-ranked story on Sunday evening,

Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas said border patrol agents have seen a 50% drop in the number of migrants crossing the border since Thursday.

The long-term crisis at the border and the failure of US policy are real. Fox’s failed effort to manufacture a crisis was an illusion. But it is also a morality tale that we must keep top of mind as we move into 2024. The hyperbole at Fox infected the entire news ecosystem. Every network had reporters and cameras at the southern border because—well, because Fox was at the border with reporters and cameras.

The attention to Fox’s fabricated border crisis suggests that the media has learned little over the last seven years. Remember Trump's claim in 2018 that “caravans” of criminals were headed to the US through Mexico? While the media generally attempted to refute those claims, it also repeated the story thousands of times without labeling Trump's claim for what it was—a “lie.” See Newsweek (11/1/18), Trump Says Caravans Are Larger Than Reported: 'I'm Pretty Good at Estimating Crowd Size'.

The failure of US immigration policy (including the Biden administration’s dubious decisions to continue some Trump policies) is beyond the scope of this newsletter. We must find a way to create a system that is more fair, humane, and efficient—and that dramatically increases legal immigration. America’s immigration problem is that there is too little of it, not that there is too much.

America is a great nation (in part) because of immigration. If it is to remain a great nation, it will do so (in part) by increasing immigration to help America remain competitive in the global economy. The current dysfunction and failure of US border policy are interfering with a traditional source of strength and renewal for the American dream. Let’s not compound that interference by repeating myths and lies about the impact of asylum seekers entering through the southern border.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

#Steve Brodner #border #immigration #Southern Border #Robert B. Hubbell #Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter #mercy #humanity #immigration policy

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capybaraonabicycle · 8 months

Note

Have you ever written a soulmate au?

Thank you so much for indulging me, anon!!

I have not!

I do think soulmate au-s are intriguing and I've read this amazing Doctor/Clara/Danny one by @marvellouspinecone semi-recently that I can promote since I don't have a link of mine for you.

I have also had a fic of mine being described as showing doctor/river as soulmates. (this one in case you're interested)

But Idk. It's just - I think I am a bit intimidated by the logistics of it?

So if I were to write a soulmate au, I would probably try to keep it simple? Like go with the 'first sentence they say to you is a tattoo on your body' idea or having a countdown on your wrist or something, just some idea that I feel is rather common?

(I honestly also don't read soulmate au-s much, sorry, Idk what I am talking about.)

And then probably in the first case I'd make it something funny and write some fluffy one-shot for some couple I adore - maybe Bill/Heather, I have been meaning to write for them. And in the second case I would probably pick some aroace person and have that counter making them uncomfortable until they meet a really great person at 00:00 and then stay friends forever or something. (Skye Penderwick comes to mind, and that great person would be Jeffrey)

OR NO! You know what? Sorry, idea incoming, not sure you'll like it (also I am not deleting what I have written so far, sorry if this is turning into a complete mess):

If I were to write a soulmate au, I would do it in the good place fandom. I would make it one of Michael's thousand attempts to run the neighbourhood. And he introduces one of these soulmate au rules to mess with my poor Chidi. Give him a counter that ticks down to the moment he and his soulmate kiss or something and then don't tell him who that is. Write something onto his tattoo that he has multiple demons say at the same time to Chidi.

And then in the end when the humans find out, Eleanor gets to punch him for it and Chidi gets all the books on a quiet lake to make up for the stress ❤️

Yeah, I like that. I'd write hurt and comfort Chidi & (or rather vs) Michael for my soulmate au.

(Also featuring Eleanor and Tahani being soulmates just so Eleanor can mock whatever her tattoo says, before looking at Tahani and going 'oh so it's a superficially horny kinda soulmate, got it, I can roll with that'. I mean, she would also assume the soulmate was for someone else, so she would not really be that surprised but anyway)

(Jason's running around with a still ticking timer, trying to get people to kiss him so it will run faster bc he is tired of waiting and people bringing it up and reminding him he STILL has to wait for it. Very few people are willing to kiss, but he's gotten to kiss Janet about a hundred times, Chidi once and Eleanor 5 times, so that's a start? He does not get it when Tahani explains his timer still running means the people he has kissed can't be his soulmate. Maybe that's because Eleanor very hurriedly shut her up by pressing a scone into her mouth.)

#thank you so much anon!#you might just have given me a new fic idea #soulmate au #anyone else wanting to send me one? this is fun! :)

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marketingprofitmedia · 27 days

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