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siennahrobek · 3 years

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7:48 p.m. standard time

When Alpha-17 got a direct call from his old general, Obi-Wan Kenobi, he wasn’t entirely sure what to think. He hadn’t really talked with his old general for quite some time, not for any significant length of time at least. Their goodbyes after Rattatak had been brief and quiet, especially considering neither could speak well at that point. He had to go back to the front and Alpha-17 was ordered back to Kamino. He wasn’t completely benched, he would heal for the most part, enough, but someone preferred he didn’t stay out in battle.

He was sure General Kenobi needed something, but he hadn’t expected the call to contain what it did.

But now that the first call was ended with General Kenobi’s conviction-filled and firm statement – ‘with my life. And now, with my family’s lives as well’ – that proceeded his question of trust, he had a whole new layer of thoughts and even more now, feelings. Because, for whatever reason, this had changed everything.

Alphas weren’t supposed to have feelings, even less so than the other clone troopers. They were some of the first generally successful batches, although a bit more violent, impulsive and independent for the Kaminoan’s tastes. His class, although generally fine with the Jedi, had more of a strict loyalty to the Republic rather than the Generals they served under. Not that it often mattered, virtually no Alpha clones served directly under jedi in a commander, captain or similar capacity, they were better with reconnaissance and specialized missions.

At least, except Alpha-17. He had first met the Jedi, specifically General Shaak Ti, who had been stationed on Kamino at the time, and General Kenobi with his annoying little padawan, Skywalker, when there was a Separatist invasion of the planet and the cloning facilities. They had fought back the droids and even saved a few Tubies’ lives in the process.

Alpha-17 did not know exactly what he did to get Kenobi’s attention but the next thing he knew, the General was bringing him along to other missions. He didn’t think he officially had a rank at the time, but Kenobi seemed just fine with letting him have authority over the troops, stepping in as some sort of leadership figure.

General Kenobi had been surprisingly efficient, though Alpha-17 never had a shortage of things to complain about. His lack of a helmet was one of them, although the General at least had the sense to have some armor on his person, which he silently appreciated. Alpha-17 had learned a lot from General Kenobi at the time. If there was anything anyone wanted to know about the Jedi, he was open with answering any questions. Troopers became rather fond of him and even comfortable, as he treated them well. Apparently the jedi had encouraged some types of creativity and even names, which Alpha-17 found a bit odd but somehow, it almost seemed to help casualties, although he couldn’t be certain of the correlation.

He learned a lot about Kenobi specifically as well. The General would answer most questions if they were small and harmless about himself, such as his love for tea, likes and dislikes, hobbies and opinions. But if it came to something deeper and more personal, he was a master at redirecting the conversation without anyone being the wiser. No wonder he was called the Negotiator.

That didn’t stop Alpha-17 from learning the man through his actions and expressions. Somethings Alpha-17 had learned he hadn’t even asked.

By the time Kenobi had requested him to accompany him and Skywalker to another mission, this time to Jabiim, Alpha-17 probably would have taken out any politician on planet that gave him trouble. Would not have been that hard; Alpha-17 didn’t care much for politicians.

But after that place, when he and his general were captured and thought to be dead, and taken to Rattatak, Alpha-17 learned more about not only the Jedi and their culture through observation, but about the inner workings of his General as well.

He couldn’t forget their time on Rattatak, tortured and hopeless.

Nor could he forget how even though he probably should have, Kenobi never let him go. Alpha-17 was almost disappointed when he got reassigned and transferred back to Kamino. He wasn’t sure who did it, perhaps someone higher up thinking he was a liability, but after spending several weeks in a bacta tank, he was sent back to his home world to train soldiers alongside General Shaak Ti, stationed there. His training regimen was a bit brutal, but he could now safely say he had trained some of the best commanders and command class troops that had come out of Kamino. He was promoted to Captain, and he let his cadets have open names, encouraged it really, which, like the troops he saw in the Jedi’s command, helped their efficiency. So perhaps not a coincidence.

Training cadets, sometimes alongside General Shaak Ti, was not so bad, although he couldn’t say that he really cared for the weather anymore. The General was respectful and good, and she treated all the clones well, they had started to refer to themselves as brothers. One of his command class cadets showed even more certain promise and Alpha-17 found himself attempting to pull a few strings to help him get sent out to General Kenobi’s command. Cody would do well with him.

And he did. Alpha-17 had heard of their successes.

But learning what General Kenobi had said, that Cody had attacked him, that seemed ridiculous. Alpha-17 knew Commander Cody, he had trained him. He knew the commander was rather fond of his General; it seemed rather unrealistic. But hearing the General go on about choice and loyalty and then even going further to say he suspected an attack – an attack on the elderly, injured and children – that had unexpectedly rubbed Alpha-17 the wrong way. At the mention of escape, suddenly the alpha clone knew exactly what he was going to do. The statement that the General had brought to him, about trusting him with his family’s lives, just solidified it. Because wasn’t that exactly what Alpha-17 had been doing since the war started? Trusting others with the lives of his family?

It took him a long time to see his brothers as such.

Turning the call off, Alpha-17 spun on his heel and marched out. He was known for his steadfast loyalty to duty for the Republic. He and his brothers were bred for this.

The Kaminoans would never see it coming.

Captain Alpha-17 went straight to Commander Colt and explained the situation. Colt worked with General Shaak Ti much more than Alpha-17 did but respected her just as much. Liked her a whole lot more, he was sure.

“Are you certain of this?”

“Look, I trained Cody personally. He would never attack his General, no matter what,” Alpha-17 insisted. “I have no doubt they are right about the chips. And if so, that means whoever planned for us, also planned for us to turn against and kill the Jedi. And you don’t want to kill the Jedi, do you?”

Colt’s eyes hardened. “No.”

After that, Colt was quickly on board, and they made a plan to investigate the chips.

And then Alpha-17 told him about his other idea.

That took a bit more convincing, although it became much easier once he had explained in more depth to Commander Colt about the danger General Shaak Ti would be facing and was probably currently facing. Alpha-17 didn’t have all the answers, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew this was not going to end well for the Jedi or his brothers.

Then Colt got on board.

The next few hours were a frenzy of explaining, recruiting and bit of sleuthing, although that was more on Commander Colt’s part. Alpha-17 preferred a bit more of a brute force approach. With a team on the investigation and experimentation of the chips that were in their heads, Alpha-17 and Commander Colt, along with a few other clone leaders, gathered together, rather discreetly and implemented Alpha-17’s other plan.

A mutiny.

With the organization and teamwork of the clones – even the ones that had not yet passed all their tests and training – it was almost too easy to take over Tipoca City and surrounding facilities. Even if the Kaminoans had a fail safe for their product, the troopers moved too quickly and had too much surprise on them for those to do anything about it. Alpha-17 couldn’t say that he felt bad that a few died in the assault, but most of them ended up surviving. All Kaminoans, nat-born officers and bounty hunter trainers were locked away as Alpha-17 continued with his plan.

General Kenobi had only mentioned the possibility of the Jedi having to escape and evacuate Coruscant.

But he knew, and Alpha-17 knew, that was going to happen, one way or another.

And Alpha-17 would be ready for it.

Nearby fleets and ships – none had Jedi attachments – had been quickly called back to Kamino, where their ships were taken over, non-clones were brought to locked rooms and the ships immediately began to be retrofitted.

Alpha-17 knew the Sith were no joke. He had learned plenty from General Kenobi’s tidbits of history lessons. Learned plenty from even a simple dark sider like Ventress. And if the Sith had enough power to try and eradicate the Jedi, they would do so, and the Jedi would be forced to flee.

He would not be a brainwashed slave to whatever government would replace the Republic. None of the brothers would.

If the Jedi would have them (Alpha-17 had no doubt that they would; they were sentimental like that) they would also flee to whatever corner of the Galaxy their compatriots decided to run to. He couldn’t imagine many objecting to it.

The Jedi hadn’t started their evacuation quite yet, but the clones had.

Not everyone knew what was going on, but something was happening. Machines were packed up, sometimes piece by piece, and sent up into the destroyers. Babies that hadn’t been decanted yet, followed soon after the machines that kept them alive and safe were assembled as well. Walls from both inside the ships as well as the facilities below were torn out to reinforce the ships. The smartest of them worked out the quickest and best ways for longer term habitation.

Everything was nonstop and most realized the sense of urgency in the air.

Medical teams found the chips and quickly realized what they were for. No one was happy. A few slicers had been recruited and they had found a list of commands, nearly all of which chilled the troopers to the core. Anything from destroying their comms to destroying the Jedi to destroying themselves. One thing was for sure, they had to get them out. They quickly found a few ways of neutralizing the chips, although none of those ways were fast enough. A compound could be injected into the brain – very carefully – to destroy the chip but that was still very time consuming. Surgeries were also a choice, but there were few medical droids and specialists on Kamino to assist. Alpha-17 couldn’t yet take the time to have everyone have surgeries yet. They needed to be ready to escape. One of the medical personnel and a slicer had found an electronic pulse that temporarily nullified the chips from getting orders, but it only lasted a few hours. Neither were sure if multiple uses would bring about brain damage. It was a work in progress.

It wasn’t long when Commander Colt pulled him aside into a communications tower. They had cut off anything that wasn’t coming from the Jedi or specific ones they were waiting for, but things could still come in through other forms. They watched as a stream of a Senate meeting had commenced.

“I think you should see this,” one of the troopers at the desk said, grimly.

The Chancellor was in a dark cloak, a large hood over his head and obscuring his face. His voice had started off rather slow and gravelly but ended with a loud announcement. “The Jedi Rebellion has been foiled. Any remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.”

Commander Colt and Alpha-17 looked at one another.

“The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed but I assure you, my resolve has never been stronger,” the Chancellor continued. “In order to ensure the security and continuing stability the republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire for a safe and securer society!”

Commander Colt turned off as the speakers boomed with thunderous applause from the senate. He let out a sigh. “If the Jedi are not already dead, they will have to flee the planet.”

“General Kenobi mentioned having to evacuate,” Alpha-17 nodded. “Once the battle at the Temple is over, they will. Those who survive will run, and we will be ready for them when they do.”

Colt just glanced at him. “You plan to help them?”

“The Republic is gone. I was not raised to serve an Empire. You saw that command list. The Sith and the Empire will use us in ways the Jedi never would even dream of. There is a command to kill our brothers, ourselves.”

“That is why you started the mutiny,” Colt realized. “Because General Kenobi called you and mentioned a possible evacuation. And the Sith.”

“The Sith kill and destroy,” Alpha-17 growled. “We will no longer die for them.”

It was barely a half an hour after that when Kenobi contacted them again.

He looked weary, pained, and exhausted.

Alpha-17 wondered who he had to fight. It was probably a personal one.

Those were the worst and hardest kind.

The clone hadn’t cleaned himself up from the skirmishes he was involved in, one of the bounty hunters had gotten in a bit of a lucky shot. He was no longer bleeding but the cut on his head was still there, close to his facial scars. When Kenobi expressed concern, Alpha-17 could not contain his grin. The fights he had been in had been great.

There were a few other commanders in the room while Alpha-17 and Commander Colt spoke with Kenobi, listening as the Jedi explained the attack on the Temple, questions about the chips and their plan to evacuate the planet to flee. Colt didn’t tell him any specifics about the list of possible orders.

Colt and Alpha-17 looked at each other knowingly. Alpha-17 smirked when he explained the loophole in their duty. The Republic may have been first and the Jedi second, but the Republic was no more; they had no real loyalty to it. Especially with Kenobi’s talk of the Sith, Alpha-17 knew this was the right choice. The Sith were brainwashing the troopers. That would not stand.

Kenobi had offered a place with the Jedi for all of them. It wasn’t much; many of them had died and they would be on the run, but Alpha-17 knew the Empire wouldn’t like any of this, not what Colt and Alpha-17 were doing.

The clones had grinned, this certain kind, uncharacteristic for them.

It made Kenobi curious.

Colt had explained what they were doing, the mutiny they had already pulled off and the preparations that they were in the middle of. Alpha-17 watched his expressions, a myriad of ones that he couldn’t quite identify over the holo call. Perhaps if they were in person. There was plenty of confusion and surprise but also some relief, gratefulness and contentment. What Colt and Alpha-17 had done wasn’t what Kenobi was expecting but Alpha-17 was fairly certain he was glad that the clones wanted to go with them.

They were stuck with each other now, by choice, and both parties seemed rather alright about that.

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qunnblackthorn · 4 years

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( robert sheehan, cis male, homosexual, he/him ) rome welcomes QUINN BLACKTHORN, a WEREWOLF. they are 25/27 years old and have been in the city for ONE MONTH. they are known to be ADAPTIVE + RECKLESS, which makes sense because they’re RESISTANT about the marriages. i heard they’re betrothed to BASIL FAININ - a CHANGELING.

Hello! Let me bring you this disaster of chaos and random self-doubt. Feel free to hit me up for plots whenever, I’m always ready to throw poor Quinn into the most outlandish situations and watch him flounder around. Best of luck, he’s a first rate mess and well aware of it.

@bloodwedstuff [repost of this since the first time it apparently didn’t want to tag.]

Some people are seemingly born with madness in their blood, be it from generations or their own vein of it; they come into the world a shrieking torrent and rarely fall to silence. Such was Quinn, a problem from his first wailing breath. There was nothing extraordinary about him, or his pack, aside from the way they carried on about life. As they were not, as most other packs argued, anything near to proper wolves.

They had the gifts of course, the blood in their line surprisingly pure in fact with few humans in the mix, but it was the way they decided to live that cast a shadow upon the entire lot of them. Dogs, scavengers, city-side mongrels by the murmurers of other wolves; the Blackthorn pack had generations long history of etching out an existence right in the middle of human affairs. Or, technically, in the very midst of their towering cities. Which was no place for wolves, not when they were meant to run and hunt, to defend their territory with teeth and claws.

The Blackthorn lot did all those things and more; they adapted. Early on in their line the founders saw the opportunity for something better than lingering in the forests and never let it be said that a Blackthorn isn’t an opportunist right down to the marrow of their bones. So they became what other packs would not; city shadows and lurking creatures in the neon glow. Brilliant con artists who taught their pups the wisdom of how to navigate the humans’ booming cities and fit themselves in. Quinn was no different aside from being born into the important spot of being the youngest of the alphas’ brood; a example for the rest of the pack.

Too bad he was so very terrible at it.

Because Quinn wanted freedom, wanted everything just the way that unpredictable desire ran in the pack. He learned exceptionally well to roam the streets, to be a wolf and a human in the light of day, and he had a smile that could charm anyone. It was just never enough; he was endlessly bored. His older brothers reprimanded him, often, about pulling himself into some sort of presentable shape; even for a pack of scavenging mongrels they still held their heads high after all. But Quinn was starstruck by life, so young, so very eager to explore it all. The war fractured his wild nights and restless joy; tore everything down around him in one fatal swoop.

The pack slunk back, melded into the underbelly of the city and refused the fight; seeing no reason in throwing their lives away by picking sides. They had known good in both, humans and their supernatural kin, so they avoided the bloodshed. Many snapped and snarled that they were cowards for it but they were very swift-witted cowards, yes, and too hard to corner for other packs to bother much with. Most assumed as the cities fell the Blackthorn pack would go down with it. Instead they thrived as the world turned to dust, the true mark of a survivor is knowing when to swallow pride and stalk the vultures rather than fight the lions; better to have a full belly from stolen spoils than your throat ripped out for testing the anger of a bigger predator.

So the ruins of the city, once called London, became their playground. The world fell apart and they established a territory that even now many are afraid to venture too far into; very few want to take a chance on earning the anger of the wolves who rule over their kingdom of rubble and wreckage. It nearly became their destruction though, and Quinn will certainly claim it was his own, the strength of the pack to survive in the decay around them. As they grew larger a fracture appeared, a battle between the alpha and her brother over the state of the pack as their numbers outgrew their resources, and that weakness was exploited by another rival pack that had been lurking and mulling in their rage over the Blackthorn’s mingling in the affairs of humans and turning their back upon outsiders.

It was a vicious, terrible night that most were not prepared for, too many dead and among them Quinn’s second eldest brother and father. There was victory but the cost was a grave one and what remained was a weary, weakened pack. Then the accusations began. They had been united, stronger for it, but blood rage burned in those still alive, demanding answers. Quinn felt the intensity of it when his remaining brother turned sharp teeth on him, knowing his habit of roaming, of testing and toying with the other creatures in the dying woods and lands outside their city domain. It was his fault for tempting them, his fault for foolishly befriending them and leading them right to the pack in the middle of the power shifting between the leaders. Quinn couldn’t even properly defend himself because perhaps it was true.

It was also a noose around his neck for certain, betrayal of the pack was an offense that would not go unpunished but his mother stepped in to save him. Her command over the pack spared his life but it took his place within it away forever and Quinn had no choice but to run. And he kept running, weary through and through but refusing to allow it to show. Right up to the day he found himself in Rome, the sanctuary he doesn’t trust. The alternative has vicious teeth though, not all of his former pack were pleased with the idea of simply banishing him from their ranks, he’s felt them too close on his heels for comfort for far too long.

Rome might be the best chance he has but it won’t be an easy road.

First and forth-most Quinn will offer as little as possible about his past, shift the conversation to any other direction because he doesn’t want to speak of such things. He still suffers horrible dreams over it and still has no doubt his eldest brother intends to track him down. After seeing that anger he’s terrified of it catching up to him. The less he speaks of the past the more he can pretend it never happened, the more he can pretend the more he can exist without being wary of every shadow that crosses his path.

Quinn is exhausting. There’s little way around it, and it doesn’t trouble him very much. He’s sarcastic, talkative and generally difficult to follow in a conversation but the opinion that if he’s going to make the effort of accepting the oddities and downsides to other people they should do the same for him is one he holds strongly to. Then just as quickly he’ll tip into bland indifference, boredom plagues him. His downsides are a bit harder to navigate, he’s a dramatic, argumentative sort, sometimes to a fault and rather stubborn, but nobody’s perfect.

As it is with most wolves, Quinn values loyalty a great deal. Once his is earned, which doesn’t take as much work as it should, he’s not likely to turn his back on anyone. He might tell them to their face he thinks something they do is foolish but he’s the type to be there for whatever terrible idea it is regardless. He’s devoted to those he is close to, even if he’s just as likely to playfully push buttons as he is to do anything else.

A creature of the pack; he does not do well solitary. Quinn is afflicted by misery when alone and he does everything in his power to avoid it. His decisions are often questionable as it is but when it comes to finding a comfortable spot around others he’s a real master at worming his way into peoples’ graces because he is exceptionally earnest and accepting. He needs people, he’s lost everything else; being all alone is the worst fate he can imagine.

That doesn’t exactly extend to the idea of being pushed off onto some poor soul in the idea of marriage. It’s downright offensive, actually. Pack mentality, wolf mentality, puts a high value on the idea of connections and bonds, and mates, and frankly the idea of a stranger being expected to hold that spot? He’s still got his hackles up about it, that’s not likely to be an easy situation for anyone to walk into. He has every intention of avoiding it as long as possible.

Unpredictable tends to be Quinn’s main direction in life. He is a very sharp survivor and thinks on his feet faster than most, but his attention often wavers and he simply cannot help but fall victim to the extremes in his own emotions. Which means everyone around him has to suffer it as well, misery loves company after all. He’ll take whatever risk crosses his mind, what does he have to lose? He’s a hedonistic sort who never grew out of it, the only difference is now he has grief to haunt him and make the need to experience life all the more dire. Missing out on anything is a missed chance, he doesn’t want to leave any path unexplored.

Other wolves might know of him, the Blackthorns were rather distinct and a bit notorious for their odd ways of life. They also weren’t viewed in a very positive light and generally considered the last bunch anyone would want to trust. Those opinions don’t bother Quinn, but he does know that it keeps most other wolves at a distance. He doesn’t see rejoining a pack in his near future because he can’t fathom one would have him.

In spite of everything he’s not one to get too drug down by life, rather optimistic and unrealistic in his views that things will turn out good enough in the end. Sometimes it’s all he has left, that conviction. And why not? He’s seen what he thinks must have been the worst so things have to get better in comparison to what they used to be.

Oddly, even if he doesn’t look it, Quinn isn’t one to back down when cornered or his teeth are bared. He’s bolder as a wolf than a human, certainly, and he’s faster on his feet than he is strong but that doesn’t mean he’s a pushover by any means. It’s more the fact that he won’t stop, blood rage and blind intention, until he physically cannot take anymore. It’s the sort of brutal necessity that his pack taught; too often if other wolves challenged them it was with intent to kill. He very rarely uses that humanoid wolf form in a fight, or at all, finding it awkward to manage, and prefers to be fully human or fully wolf.

Quinn is a pack-rat. He adores collecting the oddest things and his tiny little apartment home is proof of that much; it’s a bit cluttered and something is nearly always falling over. He loses things more often than he keeps up with them, but it doesn’t matter much. He also has a fascination with books and amasses them, he’s probably read more than he can recall and is constantly curious over new stories.

Rather than take advantage of the usual comforts of his own apartment, Quinn still holds to some old habits. Growing up it was rare to stay one spot too long, even rarer to have much personal space. The excess of it, even though his place is small by most standards, feels strange. He still hasn’t gotten used to the exposed feeling of a bed, prefers to keep his matress in the closet and sleep there.

It’s usually up for debate just how it is he pays for his existence, but the truth is he’s good at finding ways to make ends meet. There’s few jobs he won’t take on, or hasn’t in the past, from the legal to the less than so degree, and he usually has enough in his bank account to stay on his feet comfortably enough. His morals are always a bit shifty though, so it’s not like answer to that question is always an answer he offers up.

Since he has little luck with other wolves Quinn has managed to end up with a few dogs, three to be exact, that share said apartment with him much to the disdain of his neighbors. The animals are actually rather well behaved, he has a way with them, and more often than not has them in tow if he’s near to home. An ancient pug named Gin, a mongrel named Bacardi, and a corgi named Vodka; they’re quite the interesting trio. He found them along the way and far be it for him to turn them away.

#@bloodwedstuff #bqhqintro #intro #quinn / headcanon #death tw

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bootindia4-blog · 4 years

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alternislatronemhq · 4 years

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Congrats, Beth, you have been accepted to AL for the role of Kingsley Shacklebolt (FC: Aldis Hodge). Beth!! Way to go in breaking the ice on picking up your second character! I know that you’ve been thinking and dreaming about Kingsley since the beginning, and the way that you’ve brought a familiar but mysterious character to life while keeping that mystery alive is incredible! There’s so much tension within Kingsley that even he isn’t really aware of in his need to please in following in his father’s footsteps, and I can’t wait to see how that comes into play as the war begins to heat up again. Fantastic job! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — Beth age — 24 pronouns — She/Her timezone — CST

IC Overview

name — Kingsley Shacklebolt

age — 34 (Birthday: March 2, 1952)

gender — Cis Male

sexuality — Asexual, Biromantic: Kingsley hasn’t put much focus in relationships, and it’s left him feeling a bit lonely. Straight out of school, he began training to be an auror and was shortly after inducted into the Order. Even after the war ended, Kingsley has focused his attention on work things, like making sure Voldemort isn’t coming back. Still, he can’t help feeling like it would be nice to have someone to come home to—someone he could kiss good morning, make dinner for, and fall asleep with at night. Kingsley isn’t sex-repulsed and will have it with a partner he feels highly committed to, but he doesn’t seek it out or find inherent pleasure in the act itself so much as the intimacy with someone he loves and trusts. He hasn’t technically shared a bed with anyone since Hogwarts when he was still figuring himself out, and Kingsely has only had one romantic relationship as a full-fledged adult. He misses having someone he can be romantically close to. He feels alone and wonders at this point if that will be his lot in life.

hogwarts house — Hufflepuff, and it would be difficult to find one more likely to work hard than Kingsley. He probably trusts too easily, but his years as an auror have taught him to rely less on that instinct. Despite his experience, he has a hard time believing that anyone is ever truly without good. People can be redeemed, and Kingsley is pretty sure the moment he stops thinking that is the moment he stops being a good auror.

blood status — Pureblood (Though his non-English mother doesn’t exactly have his family in high standing with the “truly” pure English elite.)

patronus — Lynx, both because it’s canon and because that aloof individualism + steadfast loyalty thing feels fitting for Kingsley.

boggart — In school, his boggart was his father scoffing and yelling at him for failing out of school and being a disappointment. It was counteracted by imagining his mother coming in and laughing that his father was reading too many puff news publications and that no such thing was true of her well-achieving little boy. As an adult, it became a Death Eater slowly moving toward him. If he gives it long enough, it eventually takes off the mask to reveal his own face. The only time he’s been faced one in front of other people, Kingsley quickly cast the spell, imagining the figure tripping over his own robes and dropping his wand before the mask could come off. The explanation was a conversation Kingsley didn’t want to have.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

Kingsley is an incredibly driven individual, although he may have been accused of being obsessive a time or too. That drive has always worked out for him since he’s so goal-oriented, and both his job and his, well, other job have benefited from his methodical approach. Occasionally Kingsley has been called naïve because he desperately wants to see the best in people; however, he sees no problem with being trusting and giving people the benefit of the doubt. He has a big heart and doesn’t try to hide that from the people he’s closest to, perhaps even making him a romantic. His whole life was grooming him for a position as an auror, so Kingsley does well under pressure. He comes off cool and collected. A person would be hard pressed to consider him callous for this lack of emotion, but The Prophet has made the claim in respond to Kingsley’s ability to keep his emotions hidden during stressful interviews. Still, that power to remain calm and not let his feelings get the best of him are part of what makes him good at his job.

character biography —

The Shacklebolts are a longstanding pureblood family, and while Kingsley has some halfblood cousins, his immediate family could still claim their Sacred 28 title if they wanted. His mother was born Esi Caron and attended Beauxbatons Academy before beginning her career as a seer. Her parents had immigrated from Libya to French when she was a small child, but Esi never fully felt comfortable there. It wasn’t difficult for her to give up those new roots when Cypress Shacklebolt entered her life while abroad on a Ministry mission. Although it was another three years before they married, Esi moved to the UK almost immediately.

The two were lovely together, even if they weren’t always the most cohesive. They loved each other and never had a harmful household, but when they didn’t agree, it was certainly a tense one for Kingsley and his siblings. Two headstrong parents meant that an argument could stew unsettled for the better part of a week. Still, his parents worked at their communication and always tried to create a loving environment for their kids.

As the oldest, Kingsley had a certain responsibility to look out for his younger siblings. Irma, Hendrick, and Rosetta had plenty of responsibilities too, but it was Kingsley who grew up constantly trying to meet Cypress’ expectations and always felt like he never truly got there. Cypress’ approval was hard won, and occasionally Kingsley wondered how his father would react if Kingsley hadn’t wanted to become an auror. It was family legacy at this point, but because of Kingsley, his siblings didn’t have the same expectations. The option was there if they wanted it, but it was Kingsley who had Cypress’ attention.

The weight of his father’s expectations wasn’t easy to live with, especially when Cypress was killed by a cursed object when Kingsley was sixteen. Kingsley was a fifth year studying for his O.W.L.S. Momentarily his indecision paralyzed him, but the thought that he’d never have his father’s full approval made Kingsley throw himself even harder into his studies. Maybe he couldn’t ever have his father’s praise, but he could follow the steps that would have made his father proud.

Kingsley came of age and joined in aurors right as long brewing tensions and whispers finally broke out into war. At first, he was convinced that the Ministry could handle it and that the aurors would be the front lines working toward stopping Lord Voldemort and his Death Eater followers. Instead he saw firsthand the Ministry’s corruption as higherups looked the other way or stalled searching on ‘important families.’ Kingsley grew more frustrated by the day as they barely reacted to something that had already spiraled beyond the Ministry’s control.

Alastor Moody saw this frustration. After some small testing of Kingsley’s loyalty and conviction, he invited Kingsley into the Order of the Phoenix. Despite its technically illegal nature, Kingsley never hesitated when faced with the opportunity to make lasting impact. Almost ten years of his life was devoted to that cause, but when the war ended, Kingsley couldn’t wrap it up quite like everyone else. Between the Ministry and the Order, he’s kept himself fairly busy in the time since then.

Kingsley has watched two of his siblings find happy partnerships and one have children. In his father’s absence, he hasn’t ever tried to be that figure, but he has certainly tried to help out his mother as much as possible, especially with Rosie. The gap between them is large enough that she literally has no memories of him before Hogwarts, so they’ve always been a little different than the other sibling relationships in their family. Every once in a while, Esi gently inquires about Kingsley’s love life, but she accepts his no with just a small nudging reminder that she wants to see him happy. Kingsley is happy. At least, that’s what he’s told himself.

With rumors of Voldemort returning and Death Eaters beginning to shift, Kingsley isn’t so sure he found the happiness and stability he was looking for. This has been his life for about fifteen years now. He’d hoped they were on the tail end of cleaning up that mess, but apparently that might not be the case. When he can see the rebuilding around him, Kingsley has a hard time accepting that everything could shift again in an instance, but he knows how easily it could happen. He’s hoping to be part of the force that can keep that shift from ever coming.

plot ideas —

The Order: Obviously certain members of the Order have never really stopped looking to cement that Voldemort doesn’t return. People like Alastor and Sirius are among Kingsley’s closest confidants. Surely they don’t always agree about how to move forward, though, especially right now when there are so many whispers about Voldemort’s potential return.

The old Order: Some members of the Order have “retired” so to speak in light of Voldemort’s disappearance. I’d love to see the tense interactions of people like Kingsley trying to convince them there’s still a threat—or on the flip side, Kingsley trying to mislead them against it for their own good.

Known Death Eaters: Plenty of Death Eaters escaped justice, some with fairly sizable evidence or gut instincts betraying them. Even if he wants to see the best in people, Kingsley won’t trust them.

Siblings: This is more character than plot, but it could be interesting to eventually see some of Kingsley’s siblings or in-laws in play. How do they react to their workaholic big brother? How do they feel on the matter of blood status? Family dynamics are always interesting, and the range for the Shacklebolts could be fun.

Potential romance: As I said above, Kingsley is asexual, but he’s still a romantic soul. In fact, he’s quite lonely and wouldn’t mind a relationship if he had more time to meet someone. It could be fun to play out a potential relationship forming, whether it works out or fails dramatically. I could also see fun potential for an ex where things didn’t go well (I mentioned above one particular one in his adult life, and that could be interesting to play with). Another connection off this idea is a well-meaning friend trying to set Kingsley up on dates that don’t really work out because his friend doesn’t really know much about his type (although to be fair, Kingsley isn’t always sure either).

Whistleblower: Eventually something is going to happen which cannot be denied any longer. While Kingsley wouldn’t probably be the person to go, “He’s back,” or, “The situation is worse than you’ve all feared,” I could see him potentially supporting the person who is, depending on how they go about it. Regardless of his beliefs, it would be interesting to see how everyone reacted and who the surprise denialists are.

extra —

Family tree: https://narcissaamaryllis.tumblr.com/private/621468809324380160/tumblr_3GKGHoSROIWvKhxY7

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/myrpboards/kingsley-shacklebolt/

#harry potter rp #hp rp #marauders rp #kingsley shacklebolt #al:accepted

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with CASSIAN BHATT, who is THIRTY years old. He is often called CASSIUS by the CAPULETS and works as their SOLDIER. He uses HE/HIM pronouns.

He never loved his father, not even as a child. Perhaps it was their differences, a long list he’s kept since the moment he could write. Maybe it was the way Cassian had always detested what other little boys his age lived for—playing catch, riding their bikes, skinning their knees with kids in the neighborhood—and instead found comfort in the logic and reason between book pages far more interesting. One would think an avid reader would have adored a son who took to written word just as he, but the division always came down to one thing. Preference. His was non-fiction. REALITY. Looking to the clouds, Cassian never saw some great, profound potential, nor fluffy animals and fun shapes like other children; what he saw was weather patterns. Mother Nature rearing its ugly head on those too stupid to know they’re hurting her. He saw a world wrought with misconception, filled with beasts and famine. Misrepresentation of the plague an entire people had reaped by being WEAK. He had no time for their dreams, for their wild imaginations, or their incessant need to color outside the lines—just like his father. A renowned professor who always asked the two simple questions, what if? and why? He sought out the answers of the universe, pondered the wonders of man’s most celebrated philosophers as he spoke at colleges and universities throughout Cassian’s youth. And while his father loved language, too, written word to eat up with his hands like a barbarian, he also favored the unthinkable: man is good, man is worthy, man is trying. His son knew better. And he preferred a fork and knife when he consumed his DOCTRINES.

It was only fitting his mother was a POLITICIAN, another lover of words, but spoken to the masses with the conviction only a snake could possess, spinning lies into truths with such flawless execution. Part of him was proud, as he aged and watched her take over the whole city, secretly wanting to do exactly the same thing. Afforded the best possible education, Cassian spent his teenage years not with his nose exactly in a book, but at dinner parties where the guests were the best names in Science. The most progressive thinkers on cancer research were regulars of his parent’s Saturday night euchre party and the highest ranking government officials spent two weeks in the summer at their villa in Naples. And that’s not to say he spent these nights hidden in a corner, keeping to himself so as to not disturb theSHARPEST minds in the world—no. Cassian offered the quickest of wit, the most illustrious of answers to their questions, a rigorous debate over gender politics once ensuing one Sunday during brunch. He’d said something scandalous like society is the only reason we conform so strictly to such labels, nearly causing the bulging blood vessel in the poor, old cazzo’s forehead pop. He met the man with bared teeth, smug grin plastered along his reckless features. Without abandon, that’s how he always spoke, but only when it counted. Only when he knew his breath wasn’t going to be WASTED.

He dealt in cruelty the more he aged, grinding it out of the bones he deemed less than, those not worthy of his time then suffering the worst FATE of all: his attention. It was rare that one could easily draw his gaze; Cassian is not readily amused, if ever. He deals in facts, in history and how it so clearly repeats, saving little time and even less energy for brevity, for romance or comedy. But when you dare to look a monster in the eye, when you issue that kind of challenge, when you provoke a man who takes pride in evisceration, one gets exactly what they bargain for: DESTRUCTION. He harnessed this power by way of making the rules bend to his will, not a creator of such a power, but someone strong enough to wield—to tame such a brutal thing. Law school was met with eager ears and a hollow hunger in his chest, a craving for knowledge making a home in his throat, never to leave again. But he put it to use when he ran his mother’s second campaign and managed a full schedule with the ease and grace only a man meant to rule the world could possibly possess. And it was a dangerous thing at that, the poise with which Cassian carried himself, with such avarice for not money butINTELLIGENCE. The smartest man in the room, that was what he truly wished to be, and it wasn’t too hard assert such dominance with the title of dottore of the Law now fashioned securely on his shelf.

It didn’t take long for him to have to put his newfound degree to the test, in fact it came the moment his mother’s name was SLANDERED in the press. Dragged through the mud so clearly by the opposition that he couldn’t not defend her, if for no other reason than not a soul speaks ill of the Bhatt name whilst he still has air in his lungs. His father may have soiled it with his prophesying and idealizing, but Cassian and his mother—though she loved the man for some reason; he can’t imagine why—still had something left of their lives to need Bhatt free and clear of any skeletons in its closet. Suing for libel, he won the case in record time, his words more convincing than that of the piss poor District Attorney who dared to try and poke holes in the confidence of a man with EVERYTHING to lose. So he took the sad sack’s job instead, convincing his boss to offer it up in under ten minutes flat. I just beat him, he’d said with a smug smile. And? he’d asked, brows raised at the sheer audacity of this sore winner. I can do the same for you. And with that, he had him. The position was his and he’d stood in the hallway of the courthouse, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall, watching as the fool lost everything. True power doesn’t come from giving orders, nor does it come from brandishing fine weapons or throwing mean fists; it comes from being the best, and Cassian Bhatt is just that. PERFECT in every way imaginable. Just ask him yourself.

LILLIAN WEN: Fiancée. A trophy, something to show off, to place upon his mantle with pride and evidence of his of true ambition. She is that and not much more, but what a pretty face indeed. Glistening like a diamond, he’ll wear her around town if for no other reason than how good she looks with his Versace loafers. Lillian is a prize he thinks he’s won, but he’s yet to cross the finish line. Don’t bite the hand that feeds, and silly boy, does she ever feed yours. Gloat all he wants, parade her around like a doll and forget all she’s giving him, but if Cassian isn’t careful his intricate little plan will foil right before his eyes as she walks out the door. There’s only so far to push someone standing on the edge of integrity. Best he start appreciating the good deed that’s come his way before it blows up in his lap. He can’t survive another tarnish on his good name, not after how hard he’s worked to clear it. Cherish her, Mr. Bhatt, lest you lose the one thing to make you look halfway decent: a good woman to love you.

MONA CHEN & TIBERIUS CAPULET: Extortionist & Captain. She has pictures, hundreds of them, and despite his best efforts to seize them time and time again—even going so far as to hire the best thief money can possibly buy—they remain in her possession. Kept taught between her palms, held tightly against her chest, used to pull the strings of a man not used to answering to God or anyone, let alone a Madame. But she’s smart, he’ll give Mona that, always protecting her Sparrows first even if it means ruining a good man’s reputation in the process. He has no other choice than to obey, no other option than to come to heel and kneel before her and her boss. Though it’s his captain he’s more worried about. Cosimo’s nephew isn’t a man he wants to find the bad side of, but he’s well on his way if he doesn’t do his part. If he doesn’t do exactly as she says, execute every single order perfectly, it’ll be his ass that’ll need saving. Not hers from whatever sort of wrath he thinks he can come up with to outsmart the most clever woman in Verona. Nor Tiberius’ from whatever power play the lawyer thinks the heir won’t see coming. Checkmate, Cassian.

CRISTIAN DE LUCA: Interest. He’s never been one to lust after kingdoms, preferring to stick to the shadows as a powerful entity of demise with the flick of his wrist not a booming voice. Cassian wishes to be flocked to, praised for his deeds not his ability to bring people to their needs but his knack for dissecting the brain, its desires and every machination. He sees something quite similar in Cristian, and it’s so very enticing, so exhilarating to spot a creature just like himself out here in the wild. He wants to know more, see more, hear more from the man who has done nothing but kick up dust in the subtlest of ways since his feet landed on Italian soil. Pulling at the strings of chaos is his specialty, but to watch a man so apt at his favorite wicked game is exciting to say the least. He knows the man’s allegiance, on which side of the bridge his loyalties lie, but when have rules ever stopped Cassian from getting what he wants? And what he wants is a look inside that beautiful Montague mind.

TAMURA CHIKO: War dog. Be careful with that one, they bite. Of this Cassian is positive, what with how many times he’s been on the receiving end of such sharp teeth. But there’s something lurking behind those eyes, he’s sure of it, if only he could just—no. They don’t let him. With an arm outstretched, Chiko keeps him at a distance, and with good reason. He’s every bit as dangerous as he looks, a serpent slithering beneath the shade of the brush, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce; and sink his fangs into their neck he will. Dio does he want to, oh, so very much. There’s something so fascinating about their restraint, their constant will to never break composure. They are a puzzle Cassian is desperate to find all the pieces to, if only to marvel at his handiwork for having put it together. Paying no mind to the wreckage looking at such a visceral image could cause. They are everything his opposite, all violent combat and trigger fingers. He wonders what it would be like to hunt a creature like that. Satisfying, he muses.

Cassian is portrayed by RANVEER SINGH and was written by SIDNEY. He is DECEASED.

#ranveer singh fc #bio rp #mafia rp #literate rp #lsrpg #cassian bhatt #d

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adventure-hearts · 7 years

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tri. Chapter 5 - Recap, Analysis, Review [part two]

I’m sorry for the delay (and not reacting to the feedback), but it’s been a busy weekend. Hope you like it!

(Check out part one!)

Taichi consoles Meiko, and if you needed any proof that he's had amazing development in this series – and how much he's grown since Adventure – this scene is a great example. He's empathic, he's caring, he says the right things at the right moment. Fulfilling his role as a leader, he assures Meiko that she (and Meicoomon) are now part of the group.

Again, this proves that the trip to the hot springs and similar scenes were absolutely essential to the story. You had to show them becoming friends and welcoming Meiko, in order to explain why the Chosen Children care so much about her, and why they don’t see her as an outsider, but as one of them.

(By the way, the new instrumental version of "Butter-fly" that plays during this scene is beautiful!)

And for everyone still complaining about Sora's arc last Chapter, here's the moment when the resolution to her conflict is actually verbalised for the audience.

Not only has Sora’s learned something about herself (which, if you go back, has been a problem since Adventure), and now she’s putting it into practice, by admitting it openly to others. Moreover, she's using that same information to help Meiko, asking her not to repeat her old mistakes, and not to close herself off from her friends. (This also shows that “character arcs” can span multiple movies, so Hikari will probably receive a far sgare of attention in the next one).

Hikari intervenes too, affirming her faith in the almost mystical connection between partners.

The message the group conveys to Meiko is solid: trust Meicoomon and trust yourself, don’t give up, and everything will turn out well.

This view may seem a bit idealistic, but it truly reflects the profound conviction these kids have about the special bond between them and their partners. This the reason why they came back, why they're sticking together even though the Reboot erased the digimon's memories.

Their absolute faith in the group and in their friendship is also stronger than ever, and you see how much they stick out for each other. They take care of their own, no matter what.

These are beliefs that made them succeed so many times over the years, and they've seen how they can do miracles. So it's a tested assumption... even if it's starting to look dangerously naïve.

It can't be a coincidence that Hikari is the one giving the more important speech in the movie. Again, the sequence is telling us a lot about her – not only exploring her sensitivity and empathy, but also her strength of purpose and her wisdom beyond her years, which allows her to speak for everyone and verbalise the deeper values of the group. It may be subtle, but this is character development for Hikari, and it’s giving her a type of focus we’ve rarely seen in Adventure or 02. And it all comes into play later, when Hikari’s certainties receive an incredible blow near the end of the movie.

Another important motivation established here is Taichi’s decision to protect their digimon friends, even in the face of criticism. Again, it’s another indication that Taichi is overcoming the hesitation he was facing earlier, and is ready to step up into the fight.

Basically, the scene around the fire shows Meiko’s current emotional state, but it’s also very much about the core motivations of the other Chosen Children.

This isn't a just a pep talk for Meiko; it’s telling us what these kids are fighting for, what they believe in, and why they make the decisions they make later on. Moreover, their certainties and their idealism are heavily contrasted with Meiko’s bleaker outlook.

Hackmon announces Homeostasis’ decision to remove Libra, now that the Reboot failed, before things get worse. He also ads a bit of clarity regarding Meicoomon’s different forms: she hasn't been evolving, but rather mutating.

Daigo is isn't accepting this sudden change of strategy, because he thought they were protecting Meicoomon. Especially when Hackmon also reveals that Homeostasis is cooperating with the government to destroy Meicoomon. Daigo's position is too low for him to have any influence. He’s confused, angry, and he's probably feeling used – and now that Maki is out of the picture, his loyalties aren’t certain anymore. And Hackmon rubs salt in the wound by making allusions to what happened when he was a Chosen Child. (Does this suggest that Homeostasis considers that previous mission a failure?)

Finally, Hackmon reiterates Homeostasis’ agenda – they're on the side of stability and don't care about anything else, much less the feelings of a bunch of petty humans regarding a "contaminant".

It's starting to look that Maki isn't the only former chosen with unresolved issues...

Whatever, Tentomon. (I laughed, but he’s a bad influence on Koushirou.)

Oh, and let’s discuss how Tailmon is still able to stay an Adult level permanently, despite having lost all of her memories of being abused and trained under Vamdemon. This is a pretty glaring contradictions that needs be explained. Is this just a lazy overview by the writers? Or are we're supposed to accept that "old" Tailmon is still there somewhere, unconciscously holding back to her former self? This is really ambiguous regarding all the Digimon – but remember Nyaromon and the whistle? Is this a set up for the inevitable scene where everyone regains their memories?

The Chosen children speculate that the reboot as changed things somehow. Hikari states that they're going to be kicked out. and then, they’re lured outside the cave by a very familiar setting...

The sudden appearance of the nostalgic scenario could suggest that maybe there's a small part of the DW that's still on their side. On the other hand, it could very well be a way to lure them out of the cave in order to expel them. As they leave the Digital World, we immediately get a reaction from Mystery Man, which I think suggests that the latter is more likely.

After all, they are being returned to a world in the middle of a digimon crisis, which they know nothing about, plunged directly into a crowded street of hostile, scared people and police...

Food for thought: at this moment it seems that the populace identifies the monsters as digimon – which didn't happen in Chapter 1&2. Could it be that the government has changed its policy (under Homeostasis?) and is now publicly identifying the monsters as digimon in public and though the media?

Oh, and as they escape the police, Taichi keeps holding Meiko's hand at random situations so Taichi/Meiko is officially not a crack ship anymore!

This entire sequence of the escape, the interrogation, and the scene between Daigo and the cop is something we haven’t seen before in this universe and I found it super compelling. It's the first time the kids are actually confronted with the authorities over their involvement with the Digimon, which is something I've wanted to see for a very long time. It’s a pity it was solved so quickly.

At this point, however, the Chosen Children’s status in the real world is going through siginificant changes.

First, it seems that Daigo has gone rogue to help the Chosen Children and is acting on his own – which is perfectly consistent with him no longer trusting Homeostasis or his superiors, but it’s also possibly illegal. He has the parents’ consents, but does he have the Agency’s consent? Did Daigo just turn the Chosen Children into outlaws?

It's also very interesting to wonder who leaked their identities and addresses to the media, and why. If their identities are finally being revealed to the public at large, this will have very serious consequences in their personal lives.

By the way, where did Meiko get that new pair of glasses?!

Stuck at the school, the Chosen Children realise how serious the situation is, we continue to see how far Taichi has gone since the start of the series.

His first reaction is to urge is urging the others to stay calm, saying they can't fight randomly or things will get bad. Yamato immediately interprets this as Taichi falling back into his previous hesitation and inability to fight -- and gets angry at him. But Taichi explains that he's just acting cautious, for the sake of the world and everyone. He’s not running away anymore. Yamato gets this, and agrees.

Again, this shows that Taichi has actually listened to what Yamato has been telling him since Chapter 1. He’s no longer questioning the need to fight or running away from problems - but he’s also no longer the reckless 11-year-old he used to be. Taichi’s grown up - and Yamato has played a crucial role in this.

After Daigo tells them about Homeostasis' plans for Meicoomon, Meiko (who's still not convinced) concludes that Meicoomon is an undesired existence, and therefore she is an undesired partner. Taichi intervenes by telling Meikomon that Meicoomon desires her, and everyone agrees.

Considering the destruction Meicoomon has caused, she's now questioning her friend’s optimism and their plan, which is to to somehow “get to” Meicoomon through Meiko, stopping her, and saving the day. Once again, Meiko isn’t being mopey and defeatist – this is a reasonable standpoint, and possibly the more pragmatic one. While the Chosen Children are still placing their hope on Meicoomon’s ability to be redeemed as a partner Digimon and are apparently unable to conceive a scenario where this plan doesn’t work, Meiko is willing to imagine the opposite.

Again, this conversation establishes the growing division between Meiko and the other Chosen Children’s optimism. Meiko’s starting to consider the worst possible scenario, while the others are still fixed on their enduring belief that the “sacred partner” bond will solve everything -- and even Daigo is in the same boat! Meiko’s dilemma is that, after what she’s seen, she can’t quite believe all their talk about hope.

The way I see it, this shows that Meiko’s actually being fairly reasonable here in the face of an incredibly painful dilemma for her, and it’s *the other kids* are still far too stuck in their naïve worldview.

#digimon #digimon adventure tri #kyousei #review / recap #meta #sorry for typos and lack of clarity it's late and tumblr kept crashing on me!

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politicaltheatre · 4 years

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Justice, Faith, and Power

We can learn.

We take it as a matter of faith. We have no proof that we can learn. We always have. It’s gotten us this far. It stands to reason that it will take us farther.

Maybe that isn’t faith. If it stands to reason, then we do have proof. We have a track record, we have history, our own and that of other civilizations, that we have learned.

Patterns are revealed in that history, proof of what we have done, how we have succeeded and how we have failed. All it takes is a willingness to see and a willingness to learn.

Which brings us to Mardi Gras.

You could be forgiven for wondering what drunken partying has to do with learning, but you’d be wrong, at least about Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras is all about traditions. The partying is one, yes, but everything about that party is layered with meaning, with rituals and traditions passed on generation to generation, rituals and traditions that carry lessons and that hold communities together when times get hard.

Yes, rituals and traditions can be twisted and abused by those seeking to acquire or maintain power, used against other communities and used, eventually, against their own, but rituals such as Mardi Gras are built on lessons, ideas meant to be learned and passed on through repetition.

Justice, faith, and power; these are the themes of Mardi Gras, represented, respectively, by the colors purple, green, and gold. Mardi Gras asks us to look around at our lives and our world, asks us to ask, What lessons in justice, faith, and power are there for us learn?

Justice? That’s easy. There isn’t any. Well, okay, maybe there is some, but lately it feels like there’s one set of rules for the rich and powerful and another for everyone else.

Yesterday, Harvey Weinstein was convicted of 3rd degree rape and sexual assault, a sign of progress for every woman he attacked and demeaned, but he was also acquitted on two more serious charges. The bar for fighting sexual harassment and assault has been lowered, but not so significantly that women in every workplace in the film industry - or any other - will now feel safe.

Those “above the line”, women whose positions in the filmmaking process are visible to the viewing public thus giving them clout, they may be safer than they were. Me, Too and Weinstein’s downfall have had an immediate impact for them, but for those “below the line”, still relying on the good word of those with hiring and firing power, little to nothing has changed.

The lesson: if you are rich and powerful, only those with clout can take you down.

It’s just as likely that those with clout will help you keep what you have, especially if what you have will help them get more of what they want. Case in point, the acquittal of Donald J. Trump by a stacked jury of his peers.

Talk all you want about the politics of impeachment. The Republicans in Congress and their surrogates in the media sure are. They’’ll be talking about it all the way to November and probably for years to come. And why wouldn’t they? It keeps them from having to ask about the law and how Trump sought to undermine the rule of law.

Of course, he succeeded. With their help, he broke several laws and, thanks to the glory of legal precedent, has rendered them effectively null and void for future presidents to come. If, you know, we get any more.

The only lesson he learned - sorry, Susan Collins - was that he can violate with impunity. He celebrated his victory over the rule of law first by firing those who testified against him, then by hiring a man who had himself been fired from the White House for breaking the law to oversee the firing of anyone else who fails to pass some kind of loyalty test.

In each case, we have already been told, no one has actually been “fired”. As a National Security Adviser Robert O’Brien explained, everyone stops working at he White House at some point, all that’s happening in these cases is their time has come.

How’s that for a place to work: you’ve already been fired, now give me a reason to let you stay.

Trump followed that up by interfering in the sentencing of Roger Stone, convicted of lying to and obstructing Congress on Trump’s behalf, and then by pardoning a slew of rich and powerful men who had been convicted of crimes such as soliciting bribes and insider trading.

It doesn’t help that an a depressingly credulous media chose to take Trump’s staged sparring with his complicit Attorney General William Barr at face value. Such is their willingness to do so that even something as obvious as that bit of pantomime mostly escaped comment, let alone any serious investigation.

The corruption of executive, legislative, and judicial power in the United States government is just about complete, with nothing but the coming election in November to stop it. Trump and his Republican allies are counting on Americans’ increasing lack of faith in government to carry them through. If they keep destroying what government can and should do, they might just succeed.

Faith, and the lack of it, is an important factor in Trump’s success. Ask many who voted for him in 2016 and they will tell you it was “a leap of faith”.

They didn’t know what he would do or how. They had, or should have had, an idea, given everything he’s ever said or tweeted, but he had no track record, no history, in politics other than race-baiting and showing politicians who could help him a good time.

They would have told you at the time that it was his success as a businessman that convinced them, but if you had asked them then what they actually knew about his business, they wouldn’t have known much beyond what his public relations team or NBC’s “The Apprentice” had told them.

Faith. They were told a story and they chose to believe. It’s a bit like religion, and like religion if that story comes under attack they will rise to that story’s defense. They don’t dare lose what that story gives them, the justification for their decisions and something embedded within their identity.

Lose that, and they don’t know who they are. Having supported someone who has done something wrong, they don’t dare accept that he could have done it; if they must accept that that he has, then they don’t dare admit that doing it was wrong.

Imagine what it must be like to root for the Houston Asterisks Astros right now. They probably feel the same way. The team cheated. The team was caught cheating. That much isn’t in doubt.

The reactions are what we might expect.

The player who blew the whistle, Mike Fiers, has been condemned as a “snitch” by those who cover the sport and by at least one former star who himself was caught cheating with steroids. He has also received death threats from fans of the Astros and of the sport in general.

Those fans’ faith in a game they have followed since childhood has been shaken. It doesn’t help that the powers that be in Major League Baseball have chosen to protect their money-making players at the expense of game integrity.

The rest of the players don’t like it. It’s gotten so bad that the league commissioner, Rob Manfred, felt compelled to tell pitchers not to throw at Astros batters.

As if that was the biggest threat to his sport.

Baseball’s economics have long been a problem. Star players are signing contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars. The last guy on the bench, barely able to hit big league pitching, makes more in a season than the average American might make in ten years.

The pressure to acquire and maintain those contracts combined with lax oversight led to the same steroid scandal that shook fans’ faith in the sport a decade ago. The price for paying such high contracts is paid not by the teams but by the fans, those willing to pay big money to see their teams at the stadiums or on premium cable and streaming services.

Is it really enough to keep steroid cheats out of the Hall of Fame if the cost of watching a game becomes increasingly unaffordable? Is it enough if fans and players can’t really trust the results of those games? And if cheaters do get in, as “snitching” complainer David “Big Papi” Ortiz likely will, what then?

Loss of faith terrifies us. Faith in anything serves as an anchor; take even the worst anchor away, we fear drifting or even being completely swept away. This is why we fight for it with such ferocity. This is why we hurt others in order to protect it.

The recent attacks by right wing terrorists in Germany are perfect examples of this. In Volkmarsen yesterday, a 29 year old German drive a car into a crowd celebrating Carnival. He wounded 30, including 10 children. Last week in Hanau, another German, 43, killed 9 adults in a restaurant in the city’s Turkish and Kurdish neighborhood.

If the names of these cities don’t seem familiar, let that teach you a valuable lesson about the threat these right wing groups pose. They aren’t just focusing on the big cities like Berlin and Frankfurt; they’re in the small cities and small towns, places that traditionally have fewer foreigners, places that once seemed all the same and now do not.

These attacks are meant to instill fear in those not like them. They are meant as a call to action for those who, like them, live their lives in constant fear of being weak, of being vulnerable, and of being alone.

Anti-semitism has also been on the rise in Germany, too, with murders and other attacks growing in number as they have in the United States and elsewhere. In a country that once seemed inoculated against a recurrence of Nazism, the fear among many is that no cultural antibody may be enough to stop its spread.

The reasons offered for the rise of right wing movements around the world are many, from demographic shifts and immigrants to loss of local industry and economic uncertainty.

The actual reason is something common to them all: a loss of faith in community and in government. In societies in which there is demonstrable social and economic justice, there are fewer attacks on minorities. There are fewer attacks, in general.

Why is religion at the center of every civilization? It isn’t because it helps those in power stay in power. It does do that, yes, but only because every institution is ultimately corrupted to do just that.

No, it holds that place because at some point it provides certainty and stability. It provides the idea that we are all equal, if not in the disastrous present then in some distant past or inevitable future.

Ritual and tradition are key to every culture’s power. Those that interfere with them do so at the risk of destroying the most important power any community has, the power that holds that community together.

Sports fans will only pay what they believe they can afford. Their faith in the integrity of what they’re paying for can only hold out for so long before they can no longer avoid the facts. Lose their faith, they’ll go find another and spend their money there.

Likewise, voters will only go out and vote for a candidate they believe they can afford. The cost to them, literal or figurative, is what will decide if they make the effort. Their perception of risk and its proximity to them, therefore, decides if they turn out to vote or not.

That’s power. That’s a power to be exploited, and it’s being exploited right now.

When we talk about a “base” in politics, we mean a community held together by stories and rituals and tradition, ones who will turn out not because they were persuaded by a policy position or a great debate performance but by how that candidate reflects those stories, rituals, and tradition that give them their identity.

Trump’s rallies have been all about that: stories, ritual, and tradition. They’re mega-churches, with a smarmy loud mouth spouting lies and pointing his faithful to scapegoats and other victims for bullying.

Make no mistake, Donald Trump is the most powerful politician we have seen in the United States in our lifetimes, and he is because he is everything that can and will destroy the things that hold the United States together.

We made the mistake in underestimating him in 2016, in underestimating the willingness of so many to follow a bully and to do his bidding, and in the damage they might do to the idea that there can be such a thing as justice.

There will be things in our lives that we regret. That’s bound to happen with drunken partying, but equally it is bound to happen in defending our faith in ideas and people who do not deserve it. That, however, is how we learn.

We must not be afraid of our mistakes. We may fear learning the difficult lesson, but having made the mistake and sharing it, we pass on valuable information to others in our communities that help them succeed.

In doing so, we help restore a sense of justice and, with it, faith in our community. That’s our power, one no one can take away.

- Daniel Ward

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megacircuit9universe · 4 years

Text

Cannon Ball

TUE DEC 10 2019

Okay, so less than a week after Speaker Pelosi officially directed the House Judiciary Committee to draft articles of impeachment, early today those drafted articles were announced.

They decided to go simply with two; Abuse of Power, and Obstruction of Congress.

And just like five days ago, everybody was taken by surprise (including me)... not only that this came so quickly, but that it was just two articles, and not three, or five, or whatever.

But I suppose this is perfectly in keeping with the way the whole Inquiry has been conducted since it was first announced on September 24th... fast moving and clearly focused... like a cannon ball.

Now, political pundits in the news have been leaning more heavily into a defeatist narrative as this thing has gone along, and it’s gonna keep getting more defeatist through December... I guess, because nobody wants to be blamed for creating false confidence again, like we had before the 2016 election, when everybody was positive there was no way Trump could possibly win.

But, again... we are not talking about a snowball that the House is about to launch over to the Senate. This pair of charges have the full weight of the constitution behind them.

They are not going to hit with a powdery puff and a muffled poof.

They’re gonna punch through a couple walls, topple a few bookcases, drop a few chandeliers, and knock a bunch of Republicans off their feet. Whoever is dumb enough to hold up a shield in the hopes of deflecting this incoming projectile... is gonna take some serious political damage in one form or another.

These articles have the full weight of the Constitution behind them... meaning they are clear and undisputed violations of it, on the highest order. Which means that to try and dismiss them, adjourn on them, or vote against them, is to defy the Constitution itself.

And yes, maybe, if you fool and confuse enough idiots out there in the voting public, who are either too ignorant of their Constitution, or too blinded by tribalism to care, you can hang on to their votes and pray that enough of them go to the polls in 2020 to save your seat and keep the President you know should be removed... to whom you’ve already sworn a blood oath of loyalty... in power for another four years.

Maybe! But that’s the best possible outcome.

Some might imagine the best outcome would be for Trump to become dictator for life in his second term, but that would actually be a bad outcome, even for his loyal sycophants, because... well, he’s the kind of guy who always repays loyalty with expulsion at some point.

Barring that, the best possible outcome for all involved, is surviving reelection in one year... and that’s all. But even that is a huge gamble.

There is no guarantee that these brain dead voters to whom GOP congressmen are CLEARLY tailoring their arguments and public statements... hyper-tribalistic morons who can't tell the difference between a well articulated argument, and a meaningless word salad of bullshit with some dog whistle buzzwords thrown in... are actually going to go to the polls and vote in the places where their votes matter enough to make a difference.

On the other hand, it’s a foregone conclusion that the, “blue wave” which gave the House it’s current majority in 2018... and which is responsible for the Impeachment which is happening right now... will only surge stronger in 2020, if Trump does not get removed for such clear violations of, and contempt for, the Constitution.

The 2018 blue wave knew they were fighting an uphill battle even then, and so that midterm should rightly be seen as a test-battle for 2020... in terms of fighting voter suppression, as well as foreign interference, and all the other dirty tricks.

To gamble that scraping an army of mentally and morally bankrupt buffoons out of the bottom of the voting barrel is going to make up for all the straight laced Republican voters who’ll be alienated in that process, and then go on to win the day over a Democratic voter base more mobilized than they’ve been since Nixon... well, it’s what they call... a long shot.

The seated GOP congressmen all know this, but they also calculate that to convict Trump is also a guarantee that their careers are over, so... why not take the long shot?

Why not? Well, because you took a goddam oath to defend the Constitution

That oath itself... is part of the Constitution, which is why it does not say, “Do you swear to defend and uphold the Constitution... unless it’s you know... getting in the way of your plans?”

And herein lies the the true self-inflicted damage for anybody who tries to defend Trump against these damning charges... the long term damage to their names.

And by long term, we’re not talking ten or twenty years. We’re talking centuries. We’re talking perpetuity.

People from every generation thus far have laid down their lives to defend the Constitution. Presidents have been assassinated defending it. The Constitution is not some fashionable fad, here today and gone tomorrow. The repercussions of treating it as such will be severe and long lasting... and very rightly so.

For this reason, yes, that damage to name and reputation will start immediately, and be experienced in real time for these guys over the next several decades before they are laid to rest. But their grave markers will then go on to be reviled by all generations to come, as all of their descendants do their best to distance themselves from this crazy ancestor who was ride or die for the man all history books will refer to as, “the guy the founding father’s had in mind when they included impeachment in the Constitution.”

This time around, the case to impeach Trump is so damning, that win lose or draw, it will forever clarify what impeachment is supposed to be for.

Win lose or draw, this impeachment has already rehabilitated Clinton’s legacy, because so many of the exact same GOP senators will have presided over both... and totally reversed their stance on every point against the first guy, in order to defend a far more guilty second guy who happened to be from their party.

These GOP turncoats will go down as not only having flipped on their views about what is impeachable... but on Russia... on the FBI... on everything they ever claimed to stand for and hold dear... like the most cowardly hypocrites American history has ever known.

Again, people have died for all this shit.

This impeachment has already even made Nixon look not all that bad at all, by comparison.

Today, with these articles... Trump did not simply join an elite club... he became the all time poster boy for impeachment. Whether he beats it or not, he’s gonna be the only one we point to when we talk about it... and it’s gonna be the only thing anybody remembers him for... for the next five hundred years.

All of this said, let’s take a moment to reflect on the fact that Trump’s opponent in 2016, Hillary Clinton... may very well have lost her bid for the Presidency because of the impeachment stain she acquired from her husband... a guy who was acquitted in the Senate, in his second term.

This is not some fluffy snowball, or forgettable censure.

This is one of the all time biggest moments in American history, even if most people are too close to it, and too freaked out by the past three years to truly appreciate what it all looks like in the grand perspective.

That’s my take for tonight, and now it’s time for bed.

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lesbiannova · 7 years

Text

Light Side!Jaesa Willsaam Character Thoughts

[Note: I posted this meta for the first time on my first blog, which has been deactivated. I am reposting and revising this meta because Light Side!Jaesa could never get enough love, and in my honest opinion, LS!Jaesa is a criminally underrated character]

I want to talk about Jaesa - specifically, Light Side!Jaesa - a lot. I want to talk about the things that make LS!Jaesa such a wonderful character, thus I’m deeply grateful of her existence.

(Warning: Spoilers for the Sith Warrior storyline and LS!Jaesa’s conversation arc)

Throughout the Star Wars universe, from the movies to the expanded universe (including the Legends canon), we have heard many stories about the fallen Jedi - Jedi who once start questioning the Jedi Order and their doubts grow bigger as time goes on, and often is also combined with seduction to the Dark Side, they transform into heartless monsters or extremists. (Whether they get a redemption arc or not in the end is another matter)

The most important thing that makes LS!Jaesa such a refreshing character, is that she is not a typical “fallen” Jedi - even though she has doubts about the Jedi Order, defects from it and joins a Sith’s cause, she still remains an adherent of the light side, not abandoning the virtues and moral values she believes in. It’s easy to fall, while it takes strength and conviction to remain kind and compassionate when you’re being placed in unpleasant circumstances.

It’s hard to imagine how overwhelming the events of Act 1 of the Sith Warrior story must be for Jaesa. The Sith Warrior spends the entire Act 1 to hunt down Jaesa, because she possess the unique Force ability to sense a person’s true nature, an ability that will threaten Darth Baras’s power base. As a result, Jaesa’s world starts falling apart; the people she knows and loves, including her master, her parents and her Jedi allies, have been threatened.

By the time the Warrior confronts Nomen Karr, Jaesa has become lost. As she witnesses her master’s dark side nature as a result of his confrontation with the Warrior, Jaesa is exposed to the worst of the Jedi - the hypocrisy that shatters her faith in the Jedi Order. From being a handmaiden on Alderaan to being a Jedi, Jaesa’s life has been surrounded by lies and deceit. Now the Warrior comes along and exposes the truth of Karr, Jaesa chooses to join the Warrior to leave the Jedi Order for good. Even though she is stepping into an unknown future, she chooses it without looking back, because she believes she could find a new purpose there, a truth she could not find within the Jedi.

“At last, I feel a sense of purpose. Something I can count on.” - Jaesa

When recruiting Jaesa as a Light Side Warrior, the Warrior convince Jaesa to join them and reform the Sith Empire together. Both the LS!Warrior and LS!Jaesa find each other invaluable allies that can bond with as Force users who walk the light path.

I also want to talk about recruiting Light Side Jaesa as a Dark Side Warrior (here’s a video for it), because I don’t see many people playing a DS!Warrior with LS!Jaesa at the same time. Words aren’t enough for me to express how much I appreciate that you can recruit LS!Jaesa regardless of your Warrior’s alignment - light, dark or neutral. The game could have easily railroaded you to recruit DS!Jaesa if you’re playing a DS!Warrior, but it doesn’t.

“I believe there’s a better way for you. Remain on the light path, Jaesa.” - DS!Sith Warrior to LS!Jaesa

Changing sides does not mean you have to abandon your core principles. Similarly, convincing someone to turn to your side does not mean you have to make them completely discard their personality either.

Being a light side Sith is not an easy job. Since the Sith Order embraces the dark side by default, light side Sith are treated as renegades. Therefore, one of the biggest challenges Jaesa has to face after joining the Warrior is to play the part of a dark apprentice, so she could walk among Sith without arousing suspicion to her true alignment. These challenges are a test for Jaesa's commitment to the light side.

Jaesa is an idealist at heart. The Sith Empire is not a friendly place to someone with a great deal of kindness, but Jaesa still believes that differences can be made, which contributes to her goals to reform the Empire.

”I believe all beings have a great capacity to change.” - LS!Jaesa to Jedi Master Somminick Timmns on Belsavis

At the same time Jaesa also realizes the importance of taking action. Therefore, when she discovers the existence of other light side Sith in the Empire by using her special ability, she seeks those like-minded people out.

Unfortunately, things don’t always proceed in the way Jaesa wants to. Her attempts to ally the light sith Sith don’t always go smoothly. There are difficulties she has to face - the mistrust of other light side Sith, and an adversary who threatens the light side Sith. Jaesa is young, inexperienced and still learning, but she’s willing to try to do better. She makes mistakes but also learns from it and doesn’t let it stop her from pursuing her goals. Her ability to recover from her failure is a demonstration of her inner strength. She may falter, but she will not fall.

“You're teaching me to find sustenance from within. Independent of outside forces and direct results. And the moment I let go of my need for obvious progress, progress is achieved.” - LS!Jaesa to the Sith Warrior

By the end of her conversation arc, Jaesa has developed significantly, both as a character and a person, as she finally finds her place in the galaxy. The Warrior gives her a new life and purpose that she could not get from the Jedi Order. In return, Jaesa offers her loyalty and dedication to the Warrior and their cause. Changing the Empire is a long journey, but with such mutual support, it will be easier to face the unknown future together.

LS!Jaesa: “I've grown to respect your tempered and patient approach to our goals. Someday, I know you will take the Empire in a new direction and bring lasting peace.”

Sith Warrior: “You are and will be an integral part of my future plans.”

LS!Jaesa: “I'm proud to help in your pursuits. I'm convinced we will make a great mark on this galaxy.”

#swtor #jaesa willsaam #sith warrior #vg: star wars: the old republic #ch: jaesa willsaam #ch: light side jaesa #swtor: sith warrior content #Leilukin does meta #llkmeta: swtor #sith warrior spoilers #long post for mobile #text heavy #light side jaesa stanning life

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johnhardinsawyer · 4 years

Text

Trusting Toward Love

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 26 / 20 – Third Sunday of Easter[1]

1 Peter 1:17-23

Acts 2:14a, 36-41

“Trusting Toward Love”

(Easter Encouragement – Part 2)

A couple of years ago, while driving down the road, I saw a car with a license plate that read, something like, “TRSTNO1” – “Trust No One.” Now, since my car and the other car were driving down the road, together, I didn’t have a chance to ask my fellow driver why I should trust no one. I was too busy trusting them to drive safely and not run into me or any of the other drivers on the road.

Seeing that license plate, though, did make me think about the fact that we live in a time in which a lot of people have issues with trust. From a fairly early age, we all have to develop an internal “Truth-o-Meter” that helps us evaluate what – or who – we should trust. And it doesn’t take too long to realize that the guy with the “Trust No 1” license plate isn’t the only one thinking it.

Who should we trust? Should we trust the so-called-experts with all of their expertise or the people with the loudest microphones – who may or may not agree with the experts? Should we trust the thing we don’t want to hear even though it might come from an otherwise reliable source or should we just go with our gut? Should we trust only in something that we can see and prove or are we able to somehow trust in something that we can’t see?

This last question – about trusting in something that we cannot see – was on the mind of a person named Peter who was writing a letter, long ago, to a group of people who had been forced into the margins of society because they had changed their way of living and had set their hearts on Jesus. In last Sunday’s reading from the letter of 1 Peter, he tells his readers, “Although you have not seen [Jesus] you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy. . .” (1 Peter 1:8) These people believe in Jesus. They have put their faith and their confidence[2] in someone they have never seen with their own eyes.

Now, I know that there are some who hear these words and say, “Believe in Jesus even though I haven’t seen him? I’m on board! Sign me up! You had me at ‘believe.’” But I also know that there are many who hear these words and say, “I am most definitely not on board. I’ve been let down too many times by the things and people that I have seen. I could never put my trust in someone I’ve never seen. I TRSTNO1.”

Look, I know that faith and trust – especially in God – can be hard. And yet, as the author of the Book of Hebrews writes, “. . . faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) But, where does faith come from and is it something that anyone can have and hold on to?

In the Presbyterian Church when we talk about where faith comes from, we start by talking about the Holy Spirit. When John Calvin – the Protestant Reformer – wrote about this, he said that “. . . faith is the principal work of the Holy Spirit. . . [and] has no other source than the Spirit.” Faith is a “gift” from the Holy Spirit in which the Spirit becomes our “. . . inner teacher by whose effort the promise of salvation penetrates into our minds, a promise that would otherwise only strike the air or beat upon the ears.”[3]

In other words, the Holy Spirit is always at work on us, sometimes working quickly, causing an immediate response – like in today’s first reading when the people are “cut to the heart” (Acts 2:37) – after hearing Simon Peter’s Pentecost sermon. And yet, the Holy Spirit also works slowly, so that over time, the good news of God’s grace washes over us and starts to soak into our hearts and minds and souls until faith finds a place to grow. Now, if some people believe because of the Holy Spirit, and others do not believe, does this mean that God is not at work on and in and through people who have no faith at all or far more questions than faith? This is a question that I can’t answer, except to say that no matter who you are, there is always God – whether you come to trust in God or not, whether or not the promise of God’s loving presence and gracious gifts soaks in or falls on deaf ears or not. If there is one thing that I trust to be true, though, it is that even if we don’t believe in God, God believes in us.[4]

This trust is not in something that can be proved, though, with empirical data and cold-hard-facts. . . No. . . spiritual faith is not cold and calculating like that. No. . . having faith – believing – means that we are setting our hearts on the Holy, like you would set your heart on someone with whom you are falling in love. Will there be questions along the way? Of course. Times when our trust is tested? Of course. But the questions and testing all take place within the boundaries of a loving relationship in which one of the parties never gives up on loving us – no matter what.

As Christians, the sure sign we have that God never gives up on us is Jesus – who, in his birth and life and teachings and signs and wonders and death and resurrection – reveals God’s true, and loving, and sacrificial character to us. For Peter, Jesus Christ is the “living hope” that inspires all faith,[5] and, as Peter writes in today’s passage, it is through Jesus that we come to trust in God. Yes, the Holy Spirit is the source of our faith, but it is the person of Jesus Christ who shows us what God looks like and, through the Holy Spirit, opens the door, or the gate, or the window of our hearts and minds and spirits to the good news of God’s love for us. When Calvin writes about this, he says that in Jesus, “God in a manner [of speaking, becomes] little, that God might accommodate [God’s own self] to our comprehension.” Another way of putting this is to say that God is quite big – all-powerful and utterly overwhelming and completely mysterious – but, in Jesus, we encounter God in a human-sized form who maybe, just maybe, is easier for us to understand. . . maybe even know and trust.

According to today’s reading, it is through the loving and sacrificial and revelatory actions of Jesus that the people have come to trust in God. Peter is writing about something huge and cosmic, here, that can be understood at a human level. One way of thinking about it that I’ve always loved is an ancient poem that describes Jesus as “. . . heaven and earth in little space.”[6] Perhaps, when it comes to Jesus, it is the “heaven and earth” of it all that opens the little space of our hearts and minds and souls – even if they’re opened just a crack to all of the mystery and possibility and love that are found in God.

If we were to somehow suspend our disbelief and imagine that Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, does somehow lead us to trust in God, perhaps the next logical question might be “Why?” What’s the point of trusting in God? Why believe?

As I said a moment ago, belief is not an empirical exercise. It is – first and foremost – an act of love. As the church historian, Diana Butler Bass writes, in early English, to “believe” was to “belove” something or someone as an act of trust or loyalty.[7] So, to believe in Jesus, is to “belove” Jesus – to direct our heart toward Jesus.[8]

If you direct your heart toward someone, then it is not too much of a leap to start putting your trust in them, no matter how risky that might seem, at first. For Peter, in today’s reading, our trusting/believing/beloving relationship with God leads us toward beloving – and maybe even trusting – one another in our human relationships. “Now that you have purified your souls by your obedience to the truth [of God’s grace],” Peter writes, “so that you have genuine mutual love, love one another deeply from the heart.” (1:22) In the original language, the word used here is philadelphia, like the name of the “City of Brotherly Love.” As one commentator writes, “. . . [our] trust in God then opens our hearts to a true love of our neighbor. . . true love is not a work that turns God to us, but a fruit of our turning to God in trust, in response to God’s love in Jesus.”[9]

Jesus helps us to trust toward love – beloving God leads to beloving our neighbor. . . What if our loving trust in God could give rise to a deep-from-the-heart-love that transforms every human relationship in such a way that our love bears fruit in our communities, our nation, and our world? What if our loving trust in God could give rise to the kind of holy love and trust that are so needed in these days when love and trust are so hard – in these days when we have to trust that our neighbor is washing their hands, and staying home if they feel sick, and keeping their nose and mouth covered in public, and trusting us to do the same. Because there is something that we cannot see that is causing us to have to trust one another in life-and-death ways. Now, I don’t think that setting our hearts on the Coronavirus will get us very far, even if it might be, inadvertently, causing some good in the world between neighbors.

How much more good is done by the love of God in the world? This is a love that can be trusted. . . a love that can even be believed if we set our hearts on Jesus – whom we may have not seen with our eyes, and yet we have come to know, through the loving presence of the Holy Spirit at work in our lives and in the life of the world.

I’ll close with this – There is a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter in which she sings, “We believe in things we cannot see. / Why shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t we?” And she goes on to sing that we believe in things that give us hope, and make us all the same (no matter who we are). . . We even believe in things that can’t be done. “Why shouldn’t we?” she asks.[10]

In other words, there are some things, that just – deep down – we know and trust to be true. . . self-evident. May the beautiful power of God’s love for you and for me and for the world – be one thing that we trust to be true. Why shouldn’t we?

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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

[1] And yet another week in a time of physical distancing because of the COVID-19 Coronavirus Pandemic of 2020.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 662-664.

[3] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion – III.I.4 (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1960) 541.

[4] I attribute this idea to some of the writings of Frederick Buechner.

[5] See 1 Peter 1:3.

[6] https://www.lieder.net/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=21285.

[7] Diana Butler Bass, Christianity After Religion (New York: HarperOne, 2012) 117.

[8] Bass, 118.

[9] David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, ed. Feasting on the Word – Year A, Volume 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010) 416. Stephen Edmondson, “Theological Perspective.”

[10] Mary Chapin Carpenter, “Why Shouldn’t We?” – The Calling (Rounder Records, 2007). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWiW_CXu2I4.

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newstfionline · 6 years

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Thousands of Vietnamese could be deported under tough Trump policy

By Simon Denyer, Washington Post, August 31, 2018

Robert Huynh is the son of an American serviceman, although he never knew his father. His mother is Vietnamese, and he was conceived during the Vietnam War. In 1984, nine years after the last American troops left the country, 14-year-old Huynh moved to Louisville with his mother, half brother and half sisters under a U.S. government program to bring Amerasians and others to the United States.

Today, at 48, with a son and two young grandsons in Kentucky, he faces the prospect of being sent back to Vietnam, a country he has not visited since he left and where he has no relatives or friends.

Huynh is one of about 8,000 Vietnamese potentially caught up in a tough new immigration policy adopted by the Trump administration, significantly escalating deportation proceedings against immigrants who have green cards but never became U.S. citizens, and who have violated U.S. law.

Huynh, who helps out these days in his family’s nail salons, has had some run-ins with the law. In his 20s, he served nearly three years behind bars for dealing in the recreational drug ecstasy; more recently, he served a year’s probation for driving under the influence and was given another period of probation for running illegal slot-machine “game rooms” with his girlfriend in Texas, where he now lives.

He acknowledges that he made mistakes but says he accepted his punishments and tried to build a life here. Now he risks losing it all.

“My mother is 83 years old right now, and I want to be here when she passes away,” he said by telephone from Houston. “I don’t have anybody in Vietnam. My life is here in the United States.”

Nearly 1.3 million Vietnamese citizens have immigrated to the United States since the communist takeover of South Vietnam in 1975. Many came in the wave of “boat people” who made headlines in the late 1970s as they fled Vietnam in overcrowded and unsafe vessels.

The new arrivals were given green cards when they reached the United States, but many--Huynh among them--lacked the education, language skills or legal help needed to negotiate the complex bureaucratic process of acquiring citizenship.

Many came as children, attended schools and colleges in the United States, worked, paid taxes and raised families. Decades on, their lives and families could be ripped apart again.

The Trump administration, in a policy shaped by senior policy adviser Stephen Miller, has reinterpreted a 2008 agreement reached with Vietnam by the George W. Bush administration--that Vietnamese citizens who arrived before the two countries established diplomatic relations in 1995 would not be “subject to return.” Now, the White House says, there is no such immunity to deportation for any noncitizen found guilty of a crime.

Critics of the shift accuse the administration of reneging on the 2008 agreement. The State Department disputes that, citing a line in the agreement noting that both sides “maintain their respective legal positions” regarding the pre-1995 arrivals.

“The U.S. position is that every country has an international legal obligation to accept its nationals that another country seeks to remove, expel, or deport,” the State Department said in a statement, declining to respond on the record specifically on the issue of Vietnam.

The Trump administration’s view is that the 2008 agreement was not aimed at protecting a certain population of immigrants from political persecution if they were returned to Vietnam.

Rather, the administration asserts that the deal was reached after a “stalemate” between the United States and Vietnam over the pre-1995 immigrants that has not been resolved, said one senior administration official who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss internal deliberations.

“We were in a situation in which for a long time they were accepting zero people back,” the official said. “The theory [in 2008] was, ‘Let’s try to create a functioning system and try to get them to take back at least some portion of the convicted criminal population.’ “

Immigration and Customs Enforcement public affairs officer Brendan Raedy said enforcement resources are focused “on individuals who pose a threat to national security, public safety and border security.”

Opponents of the new policy say the Vietnamese in question were refugees from a communist regime and deserving of a haven in the United States.

At least 57 people who arrived before 1995 were in ICE detention in mid-June, according to figures supplied by ICE to attorneys. An additional 11 have been sent back to Vietnam, where they are certain to face suspicion from the security services for their perceived loyalty to the defunct South Vietnamese state. Several are struggling to obtain the identity cards they need to work, or even drive, attorneys say.

Vietnam does not want them back, said former U.S. ambassador to Vietnam Ted Osius, who was appointed by President Barack Obama.

“The majority targeted for deportation--sometimes for minor infractions--were war refugees who had sided with the United States,” he wrote in an essay for the American Foreign Service Association’s Foreign Service Journal after leaving office. “And they were to be ‘returned’ decades later to a nation ruled by a communist regime with which they had never reconciled.”

Some committed violent crimes but have served their prison terms. Others were convicted of various nonviolent crimes, including possession of marijuana, passing counterfeit money or driving under the influence, attorneys say.

“Some of the crimes took place in the nineties when people were initially being resettled here, growing up in poor neighborhoods and often being bullied,” said Phi Nguyen, litigation director at the Atlanta chapter of Asian Americans Advancing Justice, who has filed a class-action lawsuit in California requesting a stay on the detentions.

Huynh was served a deportation order after being released from prison in 2006 and was kept for four more months in immigration detention before the authorities acknowledged that Vietnam would not take him back.

In 2017, after his conviction for running unlicensed gambling, he was ordered to report to a probation officer every month.

“The first month I went to report, it was Obama as president and it was okay,” he said. “The second month it was still Obama, and it was still okay. But the third time when I went to report, Donald Trump had taken over. It was February 2017, Donald Trump had only taken over 17 days before. ICE picked me up outside the probation office.”

He was to spend another year in immigration detention.

Tung Nguyen came to the United States in 1991 as a 13-year-old: His parents had adopted an Amerasian daughter, and the whole family was allowed to immigrate under the Amerasian Homecoming Act. But with his parents working long hours in low-paid jobs just to put food on the table, he was often left alone and struggled to adapt.

“I was young, I didn’t speak English, and I was bullied at school, so I took refuge in people who had a similar identity, to give me a sense of belonging,” he said by telephone from Santa Ana, Calif. That meant a group of Vietnamese boys who were living a “gangster-like” existence, he said.

In 1994, when he was 16, he was involved in a fatal stabbing stemming from an argument over “respect.” Tung held a knife but didn’t carry out the stabbing; nevertheless, he was tried as an adult and sentenced to 25 years to life in prison. But after Tung served 18 years, California Gov. Jerry Brown (D) reviewed his case and released him on parole on the basis of “exceptional rehabilitation.”

Tung has since dedicated himself to helping crime victims and offenders in the Vietnamese American community and working for juvenile justice reform. In 2014, he got married. In 2018, the Open Society Foundations awarded him a Soros Justice Fellowship, recognizing him as an “outstanding individual” working to improve the U.S. criminal justice system.

“I don’t have a child of my own, because I can’t live with the fact that any day they can come and take me,” he said. “This is my life; this is my home.”

Former ambassador Osius calls the new policy “repulsive” and racist.

“To me it is very tragic, and very un-American,” he said in an interview. “That we would treat people in this way, people who sided with us in the war and the children of our soldiers.”

Huynh finally reunited with the American side of his family in 2016, after a DNA test led him to a cousin who was trying to find his own father--the younger brother of Huynh’s father.

There was bad news and good news. Huynh found out that the man he had wondered about all his life had died when Huynh was just 4, in a car accident in the United States in 1974. But he also found an older half brother and a half sister, and his father’s two younger sisters, who live near him in Houston. “Both my aunties really love me,” he said. He can’t imagine leaving his entire family behind now.

“For years America was a country that used to help people escape communist repression in Vietnam,” said Tom Malinowski, who served as assistant secretary of state for democracy, human rights and labor in the Obama administration. “Now here we are forcing people to go back to it, and asking the government of Vietnam to be complicit in that.”

#Vietnamese immigrants #Vietnamese refugees

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enchantingtigerbarbarian-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 14 - SITUATION ROOM

SITUATION ROOM

Just before seven o’clock on the morning of Tuesday, April 4, the seventy-fourth day of the Trump presidency, Syrian government forces attacked the rebel-held town of Khan Sheikhoun with chemical weapons. Scores of children were killed. It was the first time a major outside event had intruded into the Trump presidency.

Most presidencies are shaped by external crises. The presidency, in its most critical role, is a reactive job. Much of the alarm about Donald Trump came from the widespread conviction that he could not be counted on to be cool or deliberate in the face of a storm. He had been lucky so far: ten weeks in, and he had not been seriously tested. In part this might have been because the crises generated from inside the White House had overshadowed all outside contenders.

Even a gruesome attack, even one on children in an already long war, might not yet be a presidential game changer of the kind that everyone knew would surely come. Still, these were chemical weapons launched by a repeat offender, Bashar al-Assad. In any other presidency, such an atrocity would command a considered and, ideally, skillful response. Obama’s consideration had in fact been less than skillful in proclaiming the use of chemical weapons as a red line—and then allowing it to be crossed.

Almost nobody in the Trump administration was willing to predict how the president might react—or even whether he would react. Did he think the chemical attack important or unimportant? No one could say.

If the Trump White House was as unsettling as any in American history, the president’s views of foreign policy and the world at large were among its most random, uninformed, and seemingly capricious aspects. His advisers didn’t know whether he was an isolationist or a militarist, or whether he could distinguish between the two. He was enamored with generals and determined that people with military command experience take the lead in foreign policy, but he hated to be told what to do. He was against nation building, but he believed there were few situations that he couldn’t personally make better. He had little to no experience in foreign policy, but he had no respect for the experts, either.

Suddenly, the question of how the president might respond to the attack in Khan Sheikhoun was a litmus test for normality and those who hoped to represent it in Trump’s White House. Here was the kind of dramatic juxtaposition that might make for a vivid and efficient piece of theater: people working in the Trump White House who were trying to behave normally.

* * *

Surprisingly, perhaps, there were quite a few such people.

Acting normal, embodying normality—doing things the way a striving, achieving, rational person would do them—was how Dina Powell saw her job in the White House. At forty-three, Powell had made a career at the intersection of the corporate world and public policy; she did well (very, very well) by doing good. She had made great strides in George W. Bush’s White House and then later at Goldman Sachs. Returning to the White House at a penultimate level, with at least a chance of rising to one of the country’s highest unelected positions, would potentially be worth enormous sums when she returned to the corporate world.

In Trumpland, however, the exact opposite could happen. Powell’s carefully cultivated reputation, her brand (and she was one of those people who thought intently about their personal brand), could become inextricably tied to the Trump brand. Worse, she could become part of what might easily turn into historical calamity. Already, for many people who knew Dina Powell—and everybody who was anybody knew Dina Powell—the fact that she had taken a position in the Trump White House indicated either recklessness or seriously bad judgment.

“How,” wondered one of her longtime friends, “does she rationalize this?” Friends, family, and neighbors asked, silently or openly, Do you know what you’re doing? And how could you? And why would you?

Here was the line dividing those whose reason for being in the White House was a professed loyalty to the president from the professionals they had needed to hire. Bannon, Conway, and Hicks—along with an assortment of more or less peculiar ideologues that had attached themselves to Trump and, of course, his family, all people without clearly monetizable reputations before their association with Trump—were, for better or worse, hitched to him. (Even among dedicated Trumpers there was always a certain amount of holding their breath and constant reexamination of their options.) But those within the larger circle of White House influence, those with some stature or at least an imagined stature, had to work through significantly more complicated contortions of personal and career justification.

Often they wore their qualms on their sleeves. Mick Mulvaney, the OMB director, made a point of stressing the fact that he worked in the Executive Office Building, not the West Wing. Michael Anton, holding down Ben Rhodes’s former job at the NSC, had perfected a deft eye roll (referred to as the Anton eye roll). H. R. McMaster seemed to wear a constant grimace and have perpetual steam rising from his bald head. (“What’s wrong with him?” the president often asked.)

There was, of course, a higher rationale: the White House needed normal, sane, logical, adult professionals. To a person, these pros saw themselves bringing positive attributes—rational minds, analytic powers, significant professional experience—to a situation sorely lacking those things. They were doing their bit to make things more normal and, therefore, more stable. They were bulwarks, or saw themselves that way, against chaos, impulsiveness, and stupidity. They were less Trump supporters than an antidote to Trump.

“If it all starts going south—more south than it is already going—I have no doubt that Joe Hagin would himself take personal responsibility, and do what needed to be done,” said a senior Republican figure in Washington, in an effort at self-reassurance, about the former Bush staffer who now served as Trump’s deputy chief of staff for operations.

But this sense of duty and virtue involved a complicated calculation about your positive effect on the White House versus its negative effect on you. In April, an email originally copied to more than a dozen people went into far wider circulation when it was forwarded and reforwarded. Purporting to represent the views of Gary Cohn and quite succinctly summarizing the appalled sense in much of the White House, the email read:

It’s worse than you can imagine. An idiot surrounded by clowns. Trump won’t read anything—not one-page memos, not the brief policy papers; nothing. He gets up halfway through meetings with world leaders because he is bored. And his staff is no better. Kushner is an entitled baby who knows nothing. Bannon is an arrogant prick who thinks he’s smarter than he is. Trump is less a person than a collection of terrible traits. No one will survive the first year but his family. I hate the work, but feel I need to stay because I’m the only person there with a clue what he’s doing. The reason so few jobs have been filled is that they only accept people who pass ridiculous purity tests, even for midlevel policy-making jobs where the people will never see the light of day. I am in a constant state of shock and horror.

Still, the mess that might do serious damage to the nation, and, by association, to your own brand, might be transcended if you were seen as the person, by dint of competence and professional behavior, taking control of it.

Powell, who had come into the White House as an adviser to Ivanka Trump, rose, in weeks, to a position on the National Security Council, and was then, suddenly, along with Cohn, her Goldman colleague, a contender for some of the highest posts in the administration.

At the same time, both she and Cohn were spending a good deal of time with their ad hoc outside advisers on which way they might jump out of the White House. Powell could eye seven-figure comms jobs at various Fortune 100 companies, or a C-suite future at a tech company—Facebook’s Sheryl Sandberg, after all, had a background in corporate philanthropy and in the Obama administration. Cohn, on his part, already a centamillionaire, was thinking about the World Bank or the Fed.

Ivanka Trump—dealing with some of the same personal and career considerations as Powell, except without a viable escape strategy—was quite in her own corner. Inexpressive and even botlike in public but, among friends, discursive and strategic, Ivanka had become both more defensive about her father and more alarmed by where his White House was heading. She and her husband blamed this on Bannon and his let-Trump-be-Trump philosophy (often interpreted as let Trump be Bannon). The couple had come to regard him as more diabolical than Rasputin. Hence it was their job to keep Bannon and the ideologues from the president, who, they believed, was, in his heart, a practical-minded person (at least in his better moods), swayed only by people preying on his short attention span.

In mutually codependent fashion, Ivanka relied on Dina to suggest management tactics that would help her handle her father and the White House, while Dina relied on Ivanka to offer regular assurances that not everyone named Trump was completely crazy. This link meant that within the greater West Wing population, Powell was seen as part of the much tighter family circle, which, while it conferred influence, also made her the target of ever sharper attacks. “She will expose herself as being totally incompetent,” said a bitter Katie Walsh, seeing Powell as less a normalizing influence than another aspect of the abnormal Trump family power play.

And indeed, both Powell and Cohn had privately concluded that the job they both had their eye on—chief of staff, that singularly necessary White House management position—would always be impossible to perform if the president’s daughter and son-in-law, no matter how much they were allied to them, were in de facto command whenever they wanted to exert it.

Dina and Ivanka were themselves spearheading an initiative that, otherwise, would have been a fundamental responsibility of the chief of staff: controlling the president’s information flow.

* * *

The unique problem here was partly how to get information to someone who did not (or could not or would not) read, and who at best listened only selectively. But the other part of the problem was how best to qualify the information that he liked to get. Hope Hicks, after more than a year at this side, had honed her instincts for the kind of information—the clips—that would please him. Bannon, in his intense and confiding voice, could insinuate himself into the president’s mind. Kellyanne Conway brought him the latest outrages against him. There were his after-dinner calls—the billionaire chorus. And then cable, itself programmed to reach him—to court him or enrage him.

The information he did not get was formal information. The data. The details. The options. The analysis. He didn’t do PowerPoint. For anything that smacked of a classroom or of being lectured to—“professor” was one of his bad words, and he was proud of never going to class, never buying a textbook, never taking a note—he got up and left the room.

This was a problem in multiple respects—indeed, in almost all the prescribed functions of the presidency. But perhaps most of all, it was a problem in the evaluation of strategic military options.

The president liked generals. The more fruit salad they wore, the better. The president was very pleased with the compliments he got for appointing generals who commanded the respect that Mattis and Kelly and McMaster were accorded (pay no attention to Michael Flynn). What the president did not like was listening to generals, who, for the most part, were skilled in the new army jargon of PowerPoint, data dumps, and McKinsey-like presentations. One of the things that endeared Flynn to the president was that Flynn, quite the conspiracist and drama queen, had a vivid storytelling sense.

By the time of the Syrian attack on Khan Sheikhoun, McMaster had been Trump’s National Security Advisor for only about six weeks. Yet his efforts to inform the president had already become an exercise in trying to tutor a recalcitrant and resentful student. Recently Trump’s meetings with McMaster had ended up in near acrimony, and now the president was telling several friends that his new National Security Advisor was too boring and that he was going to fire him.

McMaster had been the default choice, a fact that Trump kept returning to: Why had he hired him? He blamed his son-in-law.

After the president fired Flynn in February, he had spent two days at Mar-a-Lago interviewing replacements, badly taxing his patience.

John Bolton, the former U.S. ambassador to the United Nations and Bannon’s consistent choice, made his aggressive light-up-the-world, go-to-war pitch.

Then Lt. Gen. Robert L. Caslen Jr., superintendent of the United States Military Academy at West Point, presented himself with what Trump viewed positively as old-fashioned military decorum. Yes, sir. No, sir. That’s correct, sir. Well, I think we know China has some problems, sir. And in short order it seemed that Trump was selling Caslen on the job.

“That’s the guy I want,” said Trump. “He’s got the look.”

But Caslen demurred. He had never really had a staff job. Kushner thought he might not be ready.

“Yeah, but I liked that guy,” pressed Trump.

Then McMaster, wearing a uniform with his silver star, came in and immediately launched into a wide-ranging lecture on global strategy. Trump was soon, and obviously, distracted, and as the lecture continued he began sulking.

“That guy bores the shit out of me,” announced Trump after McMaster left the room. But Kushner pushed him to take another meeting with McMaster, who the next day showed up without his uniform and in a baggy suit.

“He looks like a beer salesman,” Trump said, announcing that he would hire McMaster but didn’t want to have another meeting with him.

Shortly after his appointment, McMaster appeared on Morning Joe. Trump saw the show and noted admiringly, “The guy sure gets good press.”

The president decided he had made a good hire.

* * *

By midmorning on April 4, a full briefing had been assembled at the White House for the president about the chemical attacks. Along with his daughter and Powell, most members of the president’s inner national security circle saw the bombing of Khan Sheikhoun as a straightforward opportunity to register an absolute moral objection. The circumstance was unequivocal: Bashar al-Assad’s government, once again defying international law, had used chemical weapons. There was video documenting the attack and substantial agreement among intelligence agencies about Assad’s responsibility. The politics were right: Barack Obama failed to act when confronted with a Syrian chemical attack, and now Trump could. The downside was small; it would be a contained response. And it had the added advantage of seeming to stand up to the Russians, Assad’s effective partners in Syria, which would score a political point at home.

Bannon, at perhaps his lowest moment of influence in the White House—many still felt that his departure was imminent—was the only voice arguing against a military response. It was a purist’s rationale: keep the United States out of intractable problems, and certainly don’t increase our involvement in them. He was holding the line against the rising business-as-usual faction, making decisions based on the same set of assumptions, Bannon believed, that had resulted in the Middle East quagmire. It was time to break the standard-response pattern of behavior, represented by the Jarvanka-Powell-Cohn-McMaster alliance. Forget normal—in fact, to Bannon, normal was precisely the problem.

The president had already agreed to McMaster’s demand that Bannon be removed from the National Security Council, though the change wouldn’t be announced until the following day. But Trump was also drawn to Bannon’s strategic view: Why do anything, if you don’t have to? Or, why would you do something that doesn’t actually get you anything? Since taking office, the president had been developing an intuitive national security view: keep as many despots who might otherwise screw you as happy as possible. A self-styled strongman, he was also a fundamental appeaser. In this instance, then, why cross the Russians?

By the afternoon, the national security team was experiencing a sense of rising panic: the president, in their view, didn’t seem to be quite registering the situation. Bannon wasn’t helping. His hyperrationalist approach obviously appealed to the not-always-rational president. A chemical attack didn’t change the circumstances on the ground, Bannon argued; besides, there had been far worse attacks with far more casualties than this one. If you were looking for broken children, you could find them anywhere. Why these broken children?

The president was not a debater—well, not in any Socratic sense. Nor was he in any conventional sense a decision maker. And certainly he was not a student of foreign policy views and options. But this was nevertheless turning into a genuine philosophical face-off.

“Do nothing” had long been viewed as an unacceptable position of helplessness by American foreign policy experts. The instinct to do something was driven by the desire to prove you were not limited to nothing. You couldn’t do nothing and show strength. But Bannon’s approach was very much “A pox on all your houses,” it was not our mess, and judging by all recent evidence, no good would come of trying to help clean it up. That effort would cost military lives with no military reward. Bannon, believing in the need for a radical shift in foreign policy, was proposing a new doctrine: Fuck ’em. This iron-fisted isolationism appealed to the president’s transactional self: What was in it for us (or for him)?

Hence the urgency to get Bannon off the National Security Council. The curious thing is that in the beginning he was thought to be much more reasonable than Michael Flynn, with his fixation on Iran as the source of all evil. Bannon was supposed to babysit Flynn. But Bannon, quite to Kushner’s shock, had not just an isolationist worldview but an apocalyptic one. Much of the world would burn and there was nothing you could do about it.

The announcement of Bannon’s removal was made the day after the attack. That in itself was a rather remarkable accomplishment on the part of the moderates. In little more than two months, Trump’s radical, if not screwball, national security leadership had been replaced by so-called reasonable people.

The job was now to bring the president into this circle of reason.

* * *

As the day wore on, both Ivanka Trump and Dina Powell were united in their determination to persuade the president to react . . . normally. At the very minimum, an absolute condemnation of the use of chemical weapons, a set of sanctions, and, ideally, a military response—although not a big one. None of this was in any way exceptional. Which was sort of the point: it was critical not to respond in a radical, destabilizing way—including a radical nonresponse.

Kushner was by now complaining to his wife that her father just didn’t get it. It had even been difficult to get a consensus on releasing a firm statement about the unacceptability of the use of chemical weapons at the noon press briefing. To both Kushner and McMaster it seemed obvious that the president was more annoyed about having to think about the attack than by the attack itself.

Finally, Ivanka told Dina they needed to show the president a different kind of presentation. Ivanka had long ago figured out how to make successful pitches to her father. You had to push his enthusiasm buttons. He may be a businessman, but numbers didn’t do it for him. He was not a spreadsheet jockey—his numbers guys dealt with spreadsheets. He liked big names. He liked the big picture—he liked literal big pictures. He liked to see it. He liked “impact.”

But in one sense, the military, the intelligence community, and the White House’s national security team remained behind the times. Theirs was a data world rather than a picture world. As it happened, the attack on Khan Sheikhoun had produced a wealth of visual evidence. Bannon might be right that this attack was no more mortal than countless others, but by focusing on this one and curating the visual proof, this atrocity became singular.

Late that afternoon, Ivanka and Dina created a presentation that Bannon, in disgust, characterized as pictures of kids foaming at the mouth. When the two women showed the presentation to the president, he went through it several times. He seemed mesmerized.

Watching the president’s response, Bannon saw Trumpism melting before his eyes. Trump—despite his visceral resistance to the establishment ass-covering and standard-issue foreign policy expertise that had pulled the country into hopeless wars—was suddenly putty. After seeing all the horrifying photos, he immediately adopted a completely conventional point of view: it seemed inconceivable to him that we couldn’t do something.

That evening, the president described the pictures in a call to a friend—the foam, all that foam. These are just kids. He usually displayed a consistent contempt for anything but overwhelming military response; now he expressed a sudden, wide-eyed interest in all kinds of other military options.

On Wednesday, April 5, Trump received a briefing that outlined multiple options for how to respond. But again McMaster burdened him with detail. He quickly became frustrated, feeling that he was being manipulated.

The following day, the president and several of his top aides flew to Florida for a meeting with the Chinese president, Xi Jinping—a meeting organized by Kushner with the help of Henry Kissinger. While aboard Air Force One, he held a tightly choreographed meeting of the National Security Council, tying into the staff on the ground. By this point, the decision about how to respond to the chemical attack had already been made: the military would launch a Tomahawk cruise missile strike at Al Shayrat airfield. After a final round of discussion, while on board, the president, almost ceremonially, ordered the strike for the next day.

With the meeting over and the decision made, Trump, in a buoyant mood, came back to chat with reporters traveling with him on Air Force One. In a teasing fashion, he declined to say what he planned to do about Syria. An hour later, Air Force One landed and the president was hustled to Mar-a-Lago.

The Chinese president and his wife arrived for dinner shortly after five o’clock and were greeted by a military guard on the Mar-a-Lago driveway. With Ivanka supervising arrangements, virtually the entire White House senior staff attended.

During a dinner of Dover sole, haricots verts, and thumbelina carrots—Kushner seated with the Chinese first couple, Bannon at the end of the table—the attack on Al Shayrat airfield was launched.

Shortly before ten, the president, reading straight off the teleprompter, announced that the mission had been completed. Dina Powell arranged a for-posterity photo of the president with his advisers and national security team in the makeshift situation room at Mar-a-Lago. She was the only woman in the room. Steve Bannon glowered from his seat at the table, revolted by the stagecraft and the “phoniness of the fucking thing.”

It was a cheerful and relieved Trump who mingled with his guests among the palm trees and mangroves. “That was a big one,” he confided to a friend. His national security staff were even more relieved. The unpredictable president seemed almost predictable. The unmanageable president, manageable.

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