#also side note why do americans have so many summer camps | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

im-a-space-gay · 4 years

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Welcome to Camp Sanders!

(I’ve downloaded three translators to find out half the time Google Translate was either the only one getting it right or the only one getting it wrong. If there is any mistakes in any language besides English, I am sorry as I only speak English fluently [ha, fluently]. Also yes, ANOTHER AU. Look, I’m idea/story fluid along with gender fluid. Deal with it.)

“I do not see the point of summer camp,” a fourteen year old boy stated, looking out the car window in resentment towards the camp and kids of varying ages running around.

This boy’s name was Logan Lee Lucy, born November 3rd in Japan and moving to the U.S. when he was three. With black hair pushed away from his eyes that were sapphire blue, he wore rectangular glasses and a black T-shirt with gray shorts. Normally he wore polos and ties, but his awful mother said that was too formal for where she was sending him.

Camp Sanders.

Camp Sanders was a summer camp for kids from eight to eighteen, and was in the middle of a forest without anything around it. It was a place for kids to find and pursue interests, and there was plenty activities from outdoors to indoors, pleasing every kid.

Every kid, except for Logan, of course.

“You need to spend some time in the sunshine and make friends,” his mother said in response, and Logan huffed, crossing his arms and sliding down the seat.

“Friends are for spineless maggots who are dependent on others for happiness,” Logan glared, and his mother sighed.

“No wonder why you’re never happy.”

“I’m happy plenty, I’ll have you know!” Logan lied, finally unbuckling his seatbelt, and grabbing his backpack.

“Alright,” his mother said, twisting around to look at him with a smile from the driver’s seat. “Just... try to have a nice summer, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Logan said before leaving, grasping his backpack straps as he stared down the streams of kids, his mother driving away behind him. He was just about to follow the children before someone poked his shoulder. He looked over to see a boy that was probably his age, smiling widely.

He was fairly tan, with a infinite amount of freckles and curly orange locks with bright blue eyes. When Logan paid attention to the smile, he could see a small gap between his two middle incisors on the top. He had a baby blue crop top and khaki short shorts, with a pink backpack and round glasses.

“Hiya! I’m Patton Hart, fourteen, he/him!” He said, sticking his hand out to shake, which Logan did with a raised eyebrow.

“Logan Lucy, fourteen, he/him.”

“Nice to meet ya Logan!” Patton smiled wider, and Logan picked up on a small Irish accent. “Now, I’m no expert, but are you new?”

“Yes?” Logan blinked, wondering if he was that obvious before something else crossed his mind. “Wait, some people come here repeatedly?”

“Yeppers!” Patton said, pointing at himself. “I’ve been here for three summers before this one, and I’m friends with most that keep coming here! I just really love this camp! Among other things....”

Patton murmured the last part with a blush, suddenly acting shy as he fiddled with his earlobe with a tiny smile. Logan would ask, but he was rather befuddled with this new information.

“So you come back to summer camp... because you want to?” Logan asked in desbelief, and Patton’s shy demeanor vanished as he nodded with a bright grin.

“Uh huh! Who knows, maybe you’ll do the same!” Logan scrunched his nose at the statement.

“Doubtful, but alright.”

“Now, I’ll help you get signed in since you’re in my age group!” Patton said cheerfully, taking Logan’s hand and dragging him with the rest of kids that were going to a giant building, which Logan found out was the mess hall upon entering.

Logan, after looking around the -rather aesthetically pleasing- hall, realized that Patton was talking to him and listened in.

“-onder which cabin you’ll be placed in!”

“Cabin?” Logan parroted, and Patton glanced in his direction before pulling him to a forest green table with a couple clipboards.

“Yep! You’ll be placed in a cabin based on age and sex -unless you’re trans, than you go in with the gender you identify with so you don’t feel dysphoria- and you get five bunk mates!” Patton explained, telling him to sign in while he checked which cabin Logan was placed in.

Logan finished his signature when Patton gasped loudly, and Logan jumped, looking at him in confusion. Patton faced him excited, showing the clipboard to him.

“You’re in the Sides cabin! THAT’S MY CABIN!” And before Logan could open his mouth, Patton gasped again with a worried look and turned the clipboard to him again.

After scanning it, he sighed in relief.

“Uh,” Logan intelligently said, and Patton looked up, blinking.

“Oh sorry, I was just checking who left the Sides cabin. It was just Dev, so no reason to worry!”

“Alright,” Logan nodded, feeling like he was missing something.

“Well,” Patton said, grabbing Logan’s hand again. “Let’s head to our cabin! You’re going to love the others!”

They were out of the mess hall before Logan could blink, Patton being in more of a hurry than before, they weaved through the crowd before arriving at a small cabin that looked exactly the same as the rest of the cabins, if you excluded the sign above the door reading “Sides”. Patton took a calming breath before opening the door, and everyone in the room looked over, making Logan flinch even as they looked at Patton with wide grins.

Two of the boys were undoubtedly twins of Hispanic origins, one wearing a red T-shirt and washed out overalls, while the other wore a green T-shirt and black overalls with holes, their dark brown hair swooping dramatically and brown eyes filled with energy. It seemed these two were playing tug-o-war with a small rope before they opened the door.

Another had dark skin with a splotch of a lighter skin tone on the left side of his face, black hair braided away from his eyes. His left eye was green, while his right was brown, and he had a yellow tank top with a two headed snake and ripped jeans. It appeared this one was recording what the twins were doing with a smirk on his lips.

The final one seemed to be the only one of American descent in the cabin, with pale skin and brown hair long enough that it covered his eyes and ears and touched the tip of his nose. He had a strange hoodie that mainly was black, but the sleeves had alternating black and purple stripes, and the hood and pocket were purple. He also wore black high-waisted shorts with black thigh highs that almost reached the shorts, leaving the smallest sliver of pale skin between them, and purple headphones around his neck. He was hanging upside down, halfway off one of the top bunks, showing his emerald eyes.

“Hiya!” Patton said excitedly, dragging Logan in behind him, making Logan barely have time to close the door behind him.

“Patton!” The twins yelled simultaneously, dropping the rope and running over to hug Patton, thankfully making him let go of Logan’s hand so he could back away from the group hug.

When they pulled away, they looked at Logan, and smiled near-identical grins.

“Who’s this you brought with ya?” The one in red asked, making Logan happy when he stayed out of his personal bubble. Patton gasped and clapped, gesturing widely to him.

“Everybody, this is our new bunk mate, Logan! Logan, meet everybody!”

“Hi?” He said confused, and Patton pointed at the twins.

“These are Roman and Remus Royal, the twins! Roman wears red and Remus wears green,” Patton explained, and Logan nodded, making a silent note that the twins were color-coded. Then Patton walked over to the dark skinned one and slung an arm around him. “This is Janus Smith, a ball of sarcasm and friendship!”

Janus snorted, waving before saying, “less friendship, more snake.”

Logan blinked confused, wondering what that meant but Patton was already bounding toward the one hanging precariously from the bed, blush on his face.

“And this is Virgil Storm! He’s really anxious, listens to music a lot, and speaks any language except English out of spite, I’ve been told. He still understands English though!”

“こんにちは,” Virgil nodded, biting his lip. Logan nodded back, pleasantly surprised when Virgil spoke in his home language.

“こんにちは。英語を話してみませんか?” Logan asked, and he saw the others looking confused while Virgil smiled.

“私の家族は英語しか話せません。私は家族が嫌いです。”

Logan rose his eyebrow but nodded.

“Okay.”

“Anyways,” Patton said, dragging everyone’s attention to him. “It’s nice to see you all again!”

“You too!” The twins chimed, Janus nodding.

“Tú freisin Patton,” Virgil said, finally moving so he was not about to fall off the bed, covering his eyes with his bangs, and Logan was pretty sure Patton was blushing again. Probably because of everybody saying it was nice to see him as well.

At least, he thinks Virgil said that. Logan only spoke English and Japanese, not whatever that was. Though that did make him curious how many languages Virgil knew.

“So, shall we play twenty questions?” Janus questioned as Logan and Patton put their stuff on the remaining bunks. Everybody was quick to agree (wow okay he was going to have to get used to people speaking languages he didn’t understand), and Logan had only one thought as he watched Janus play catch with the twins, with Patton telling them how his year was and Virgil occasionally muttering to him in Japanese that he wished Logan luck with dealing with all of them.

Maybe this summer won’t be so bad.

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halsteadpd · 3 years

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The Beginning: Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

So, so sorry this took so long to post! There's been a lot going on in my life and this chapter itself was quite wordy. I definitely wanted to get the "meet" right so hopefully I did justice. I don't have the time or energy to read through this entire chapter again so hopefully I edited correctly lol. Enjoy the penultimate chapter!

XXXX

This is like nothing she's ever done before.

She's scared but she doesn't want to admit it—her heart beats erratically and sometimes she feels as if it will jump out of her chest. Her friends and family had begged her to not go—it was too dangerous, a suicide mission her father called it. But Erin wanted to prove a point; she wanted to show everyone what the war was about.

When the crew landed on an airstrip near the base they would be stationed at, they were quickly ushered off to the side where a car waited on them. The way everyone was on high alert and held long guns around them added to the anxiety Erin was feeling.

Once on base, they're immediately guided towards a tent filled with multiple maps, radios and phones. The noise of the visitor's arrival gains the attention of the colonel and he places the pile of papers he was looking at down on the desk in front of him. He's old—his hair is salt and pepper coloured and wrinkles dig deep into his skin. It's obvious the military and war has taken its toll on him throughout his life.

When he stands and approaches the small group, he towers over all of them. He clears his throat before speaking; his voice matches his appearance. "Afternoon. I'm Colonel Williams, I oversee everything that goes on in this base." He paces back and forth in front of the group which inadvertently makes Erin stand up taller. "It's my job to ensure we get as many American soldiers back on American soil—that includes you." Colonel Williams turns his back to them and stares off in the distance at the maps on the walls. "You will listen to anything and everything my staff tell you to do. When you're out with a team, you keep ten to fifteen metres between each other. If something blows up I want minimal casualties. Meals are at 0600, 1200, and 1800 hours. Other than that, report on whatever you desire. But stay out of the way of my soldiers. They don't need any distractions right now." He turns to face the group again. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir." Erin replies, her voice strong; she didn't want to show she was intimidated by him.

"Very well then. O'Connor. Show them to their living area."

XXXXXXXXX

Erin and her crew have been on base for less than an hour and as they settle in, she can hear explosions from a distance. She's unsure if they're being purposely set off by the army or whether it's the Taliban. She wants to clarify with one of the soldiers on base but after Colonel Williams' speech, she's too scared to approach. They're not there to distract the staff.

A rather large explosion shakes the camp and she can tell it was close by—the fabric of the tent continues to flap around after the dust settles. It also caught the attention of everyone else on the base; there was a pause of all activities before resuming after confirming there was no immediate threat to them.

"That will be your lullaby for the next three months." Erin hears from behind her. When she turns she sees a dark skinned man standing behind her with his arms crossed. "We haven't gotten a break from them for a while now. Good luck sleeping tonight." He says dismissively as he returns to his task, clearly not daunted by the experience.

Later that afternoon, Erin and her crew are going over final details before they embark on their first recon mission the next day. They're all experiencing something new and had the crew not volunteered to come with her, Erin would've felt incredibly guilty bringing people into a warzone. They all knew that there was a chance of not coming home.

For the first day, they want to film what a day looks like in Afghanistan. They've been given permission to interview some soldiers, however their faces need to be blurred in order to comply with the military's rules and to keep the soldier's identities a secret.

In this distance, the sound of concrete exercise equipment being dropped can be heard.

XXXXXXXXXX

He's really been slacking on his fitness lately. As much as he tries to keep himself busy, reminders of home intrude his brain. Memories of that night still haunt him, often leaving him without an appetite. He's lost some weight and knows he needs to keep as much weight on as he can—it's the one thing that will keep him alive in a bind.

The lack of food mixed with missing workouts is hurting him today. He's taking longer rest periods to compensate for the fatigue.

In the dusty sunlight, he spots the media group sitting at a table. The base was alerted of their presence for approximately three months; they were told to not get sidetracked with the new distractions—it could get them all hurt or killed.

There's two men and a woman sitting, pouring over notes thoroughly. He can't help but notice how small and fragile the woman looks. The war is no place for her. It's people like her that get kidnapped and held for ransom. She shouldn't be here.

He's not a big fan of the media; they often vilify soldiers as the enemy. The thing is Jay never signed up for a war or invading another country; he just wanted to serve his country as a proud American. Sometimes he thinks about how he could've done that on American soil, without blood on his hands.

Feeling eyes on her, Erin looks towards the general workout area and notices a man sitting on a bench behind some dumbbells that rest at his feet. She notices him shake his head in what looked like annoyance before he returns to his bicep curls.

XXXXXXXX

The next morning, Jay is getting ready for patrol with his squad. He's slinging his vest over his shoulders when he sees three new people join in his periphery—the media group. Soon, they are joined by Colonel Williams and all the soldiers straighten up immediately.

"At ease. Today, you'll be escorting our fine visitors during your patrol. Understood?" Colonel Williams asks. "Don't forget to introduce yourselves."

"Yes sir!" One by one, the members of the army introduce themselves to Erin and her two crew members. When Jay stands in front of her, he once again notices how petite she is—he feels even more dread for her as he towers over her.

"I'm Halstead." He says, holding out his rough, calloused hand towards Erin. When she puts her hand in his, Jay can't help but notice how soft it is—how undamaged and unmarred it is.

"Erin Lindsay." She says back, smiling with her dimples in full effect as she takes in his sea green eyes that squint in the harsh sunlight. Summer is ending—thankfully—but the sun is still strong against their skin. There's a moment of anticipation between them—almost like tension before Jay lets go and rubs the back of his neck nervously. They both share a shy laugh before Jay interrupts the awkwardness.

"I'm, uh, going to go finish getting dressed." He points over his shoulder before immediately turning, not waiting for Erin to acknowledge his words. He doesn't know what has gotten into him, he's usually more in control of his emotions and feelings. Of course she's drop dead gorgeous and her smile makes his legs shake—but he had just gotten out of something apparently messy and Afghanistan is the last place he should be looking for fun. Right?

Jay straps on his knee and elbow pads before securing his helmet and sunglasses. He slips his radio into his vest before putting on his gloves. Grabbing his gun, he stands prepared with the rest of the group.

They've decided that Erin and her crew will be located in the middle of the group in case of an ambush from behind. The media is never given military weapons to defend themselves and are given the bare minimum equipment—they'll get helmets and vests.

Once they've confirmed they got everything they need, they set off west. There's not much to see on this side but the last thing the US Army needed was attention for getting journalists killed. Terrorists generally didn't care about laws to protect medical and media personnel. Regardless of the safer path, they are still scoping out any suspicious behaviour and the chance of getting blown up by a landmine is still there.

XXXXXXXXXX

He doesn't know why, but he's incredibly nervous for her. He's thankful to be a part of the back group so he can see her at all times. The vest is weighing her down—she's drowning in it and he can see her struggling under the weight. One of the squad mates showed her how to rest her hands on the front of the vest to make it more comfortable, it doesn't look like it's helping.

When the group begins to slow down and ultimately comes to a stop, he's on high alert. Jay's eyes skirt the landscape while also keeping an eye on the team. Based on the leader's body language, he knows something is up—it's not a drill.

Quietly, they're all ordered into the ditch on the side of the road and they lay on their stomachs. The media group seems to cower as they wait for their next instructions. They all wait a few minutes before sounds in the distance grow nearer. Jay's heart is beating fast and his respiration rate is up, but during his time overseas he's learned how to control it. When he peers over to his left towards Erin and her crew, he can see the fear and anxiety on their faces.

Unlike soldiers, civilians aren't trained to the extent as they are. They've gone through intense drilling and teachings to prepare for stressful situations in country.

The sounds grow closer and everyone is looking up from the ditch to see who crosses their path. Noticing it is just a couple of civilians with farming equipment, they all move out from the side of the road, some of them confronting the citizens.

Two of the group mates search their person and through the translator ask questions about local terrorists on the hit list. Jay stands back and observes their surroundings and the conversation, not wanting to be surprised by anything. Ambushes happen often and he'd prefer that it didn't happen now—not when she was here.

"This is vile." He hears Erin say to her camera man. "Innocent people being searched for what?" The man raises the camera to shoot the scene but Erin blocks it. "Let's at least give them some semblance of privacy. The rest has already been stripped away."

Jay realizes that Erin is right. Never in the U.S. would something like this happen; they had rights to privacy and unlawful search as citizens. What difference did it make here? Did it really matter whether or not civilians could be in with terrorist groups? Was he really the good guy in this situation?

A lot of the things he's forced to do aren't done by choice. He's there to follow orders. Many of the things he does or has seen being done overseas goes against his personal values; it sometimes makes him think that maybe he should've been a doctor after all.

After a few more minutes, they move forward with their patrol once declaring the two villagers clear.

Later that night at camp, Erin steps in front of the camera to record her segment for her news station. Jay's eating dinner and has a clear view of her—the light shines brightly on her face as she holds up the microphone. She looks focused and determined—Jay can tell that it's definitely her passion.

If only he could find his.

XXXXXXXXX

The next day is his off-day, and he doesn't have much to do. The pain of Ava leaving has dissipated and he no longer thinks about her as often as he used to. He continues his routine of working out and cleaning all his equipment throughout the day before scrimmaging with some of the others with a game of soccer.

The sun is setting in the distance meaning soon his day of rest and relaxation will be over. He'll be back to the war soon.

During dinner, Jay sees Erin sitting alone and after a couple of seconds deliberating, he decides to join her. She's surprised by the sudden presence next to her but she welcomes it. She's beginning to feel home sick and being here helps her empathize with what all of those on deployment feel. Jay notices a dejected look on her face and immediately knows what she is feeling—he experienced the same during his first tour.

"Everything alright?" He asks as he digs into his food, clearly ravenous from his day.

"Yeah…" She sighs. "It's just an entirely different world out here. It's not like home."

"Meaning?" Jay questions, not sure what she is referencing to. Of course it's a drastic change compared to what they are used to—he assumed she would have been ready to see that; he assumed she was the only one capable of making it out of here.

"Honestly, I don't even know how to explain it." Erin drops her fork onto the table. "I would love to go home but I need to be here—people should know what you guys go through on a daily basis. You don't have the luxury of calling it quits whenever you want."

"That's fair. But you're not here long right? Just a few months?" Jay offers, hopefully in solace.

"Yeah, I'm allowed to go home early if I want but I don't want to. Not when so many Americans are left behind." She sighs deeply and presses her fingers to her temples, wanting to relieve the built up tension.

"It's not being left behind, Erin. We signed up for this." Did we really sign up for the things asked of us though?

"Why'd you do it? Sign up?" Erin asks, wanting to know how he ended up more than halfway across the world. Surely he had a family that worried about him and his choices.

"Well, I had this whole plan set up for me in my life since I was in high school." He chews and swallows the bite of food in his mouth. "But when I started working towards those goals I realized that it wasn't for me. So I signed up for the army." He shrugs as if it wasn't a difficult choice to make.

"Do you regret it?" When she notices Jay's hesitation, she backtracks and hopefully clears up any fear for repercussions he may have. "This is all in confidence, I won't be submitting any of this. I just wanted to know."

"Sometimes." Jay nods somberly. "Those days where you lose your friends or when firefights go on without any end in sight are the worst. But then you're reminded of everyone else you have left that you need to fight for. And the ones that died for you."

"You're incredibly humble to say that." Erin smiles before reaching out to his free hand and squeezes it in comfort.

He's sure he looks like a deer caught in headlights. The soft skin of her hand rested on the rough and calloused one of his electrified every sense and nerve in his body. His mouth dries and he knows it isn't the type that will be soothed with water; this isn't something he has felt for a long time—this isn't something he expected he'd feel for a long time. I'm in trouble.

"Thank you, I really needed that." Erin says before she grabs her plate from the table and leaves him sitting there, absolutely stunned.

XXXXXXXX

Over the next few days, their dinner "dates" become a routine. They talk about their day and talk about things from back home. For Jay, it feels nice to connect with someone that isn't a soldier—it almost makes him feel like he is home. It brings a sense of security and comfort over him; in a warzone that's more than a blessing.

However, every night he sees that familiar look in her eyes—fear. He's never broached the topic, not wanting to overstep but it tugs at his heart strings a bit. He knows she's there voluntarily, but this life isn't one for a civilian. When he remembers that thought, he immediately feels for those who live in the countries that have been terrorized by soldiers flying in from every country that can afford a war. This isn't a life for anyone.

Their dinner routine slowly transitions more to an evening routine. Instead of exclusively talking at the table while they eat and going their separate ways, they'll talk late into the night—getting to know each other more and more.

Whenever they wake up the next day, the other is on their mind.

When Erin goes out with other groups, he worries. He knows it's dangerous to let his mind sway—distraction on the job could result in death or injury. It's hard to ignore the fact that everyday he falls more and more for her. It's the first time in months he's actually felt something other than anger and hurt and he welcomes it. When she eventually returns to base safe, he breathes out in relief and a metaphoric weight is lifted off his shoulders.

Others have begun to notice how much time they spend together—some tease him about it. They call her "Jay's Girl."

He tries his best to hide the crew's banter from her, not wanting to embarrass himself; he's sure she doesn't feel the same way. Just like him, she's here to do her job before flying back home. Soon they may not even see each other again—she's a New York girl and he's a Chicago native.

What Jay doesn't notice, however, is Erin's behaviour when he's not paying attention. The lingering glances; the soft smile on her lips when she sees him return from a mission; the way her anxiety skyrockets when she hears an explosion and knows he's out. He's been blind to it all.

He's kind and charming and he listens to her, hanging onto every word; she's never met someone like him. Not to mention, he's physically attractive which compliments his incredible personality. But Erin remembers the Colonel's words from her first day—the last thing she wants is to be a reason why he didn't make it home. Even if he didn't have anyone waiting on him, he still deserved to have his life back there.

XXXXXXXXXX

It's one of the last few warm nights that Jay will experience on his tour. In the mornings it's beginning to get cold, so they all bask in the warmth as much as they can in the afternoons and early evenings. There's a carefree attitude that surrounds the camp—there's a team guarding them while everyone else engages in some sort of recreational activity.

Jay's showing Erin how he cleans and maintains his gun. They're so focused on the task that they slowly melt away from their environment—all that matters to them at that moment is that they are together. Their shoulders lightly brush against each other but neither of them decide to move away to avoid the contact.

He hears it before seeing it, but the sound makes him turn around. In a split second, he's seeing a fiery explosion from the rocket launcher aimed towards their base.

"AMBUSH!" Someone yells out.

The camp is in a frenzy after that. Nobody has their equipment or guns nearby—currently their only defense are those on the border of the base. It's evident those soldiers unfortunately won't last long before succumbing to injuries from bullets and bombs.

Jay pushes Erin to the ground and orders her to hide under the bed—it likely wouldn't do much but it was her best chance at survival. He's glad he was near his gun but the fact that he doesn't have any vest or helmet is concerning.

The explosions continue and Jay moves forward—towards the combat. He can see a few of his friends lying on the ground; they had no chance during the surprise assault. As he fires at the attackers, thinking about how dumb it is to attack a military base. They're in their element—they have all the equipment and ammunition needed. Not to mention all of those deployed in the area were currently on base. They'll easily outnumber their attackers.

Explosions continue and based on how close they're getting to him, he realizes they're likely in the base now—all of the soldiers who were too close to the fire likely didn't have enough equipment or troops to defend their territory.

While Jay continues to move forward—using his gun as his only defense—he notices something dark fly over his head. When he turns his head back to see what it was, his eyes widen in horror as he sees Erin out in the open with her camera crew, filming the fight.

"ERIN! WATCH OUT!" He takes off in her direction but the second he starts running, the bomb explodes. The smoke clouds his vision but nonetheless he continues towards his target. Some of the equipment close to their sleeping quarters had been blown up; their attackers had likely scoped the place out without anyone noticing.

When the dust and dirt settles, Jay can feel himself almost pass out. Lying in a heap are Erin and her two crew men, unmoving.

"ERIN!" He yells out again, keeping an eye out for any movement from her—there isn't any.

By the time he reaches the group, he notices the camera men are okay, they're slowly making their way into seated positions, continuously coughing while trying to rid their lungs of smoke. When Jay flips Erin onto her back, he takes in the blood gushing from a wound in her shoulder and consequently, it begins to leak out of her open mouth and nose when her body is shifted.

"Erin, please say something." He checks for a carotid pulse and when he finds a weak one, he quickly picks her up bridal style and runs her to the medic's tent. Blood continues to come out of her wound at a rapid pace, pressuring Jay to run even faster.

Once he arrives, he places her down softly on the bed; it's here he finally realizes he's crying. He goes to wipe his eyes when he notices blood covering his hands—his knees begin to shake and he thinks he's going to be sick. The medic begins to rip Erin's shirt off of her and begins to place heart rate leads all over her chest. Her right hand hangs off of the bed and not wanting her to be alone through this, Jay takes a few steps towards her.

Before he gets to her, hands wrap around Jay's shoulders and begin to push him backwards, ushering him out of the tent before the flaps are closed, cutting off any sight of her.

XXXXXX

I've worked so hard for this, please leave a review!

#linstead #linstead au #linstead fanfiction #chicago pd #chicago pd au #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #linstead fanfic #jay halstead #erin lindsay #jesse lee soffer #sophia bush #jay x erin #erin x jay

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thaliagrayce · 4 years

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The Innocent Can Never Last

here’s the ao3 link if you wanna stop by!

Her roots were just barely starting to show. She leaned over the shitty drugstore pocket mirror she had propped against the windowsill above her sleeping bag and pulled some of her short hair straight up, squinting at the half centimeter of blond that had crept up underneath the black. She would have to dye it again soon, but it was almost a miracle that it was only half a centimeter. Her hair used to grow a lot faster, before she was a tree.

Whatever. Maybe this meant it was time to finally get that buzz cut she’d always wanted; she would have enough time enough to enjoy the way the short dark hair looked on her head before it grew out blond again. For now, though, all she did was ruffle her hand through it to cover the blond as well as she could and made sure her eyeliner was properly smudged before getting out of her makeshift bed.

She ignored the haphazard stack of orange t-shirts piled next to her duffel bag that some Hermes camper had brought her the first week she’d been there. Changing in the middle of the day felt kinda stupid, but it meant that she’d already checked off her Camp Spirit for the day. Nobody could tell her to change. Today was a black tank top kind of day, anyway. The last thing she grabbed before leaving was the dark blue UC Berkeley drawstring bag she’d kept with her on the road, torn in a few places and with half the yellow logo faded to illegibility. Its contents clanked as she threw it over her shoulder and pushed the door open.

The late afternoon heat of July hit her without mercy as soon as she opened the cabin door, and she had to screw her eyes shut against the force of the sunlight. It felt like a completely different world out here, with kids yelling to each other from across the basketball courts and chasing each other around with swords and screaming when they fell off the climbing wall. The inside of the Zeus cabin must have been soundproofed, because it always felt so cut off from the rest of camp—you couldn’t hear anything but the rumble of thunder from in those walls. Maybe Zeus just didn’t like sharing the spotlight.

Changing into a black shirt started to sound like a bad idea in retrospect halfway to the infirmary, but she didn’t let that deter her. She’d worn nothing but hospital gowns and orange shirts since she woke up two weeks ago, and stupid heat and sunlight wouldn’t ruin her first day of freedom.

Some son of Apollo she recognized was leaving the infirmary just as she got to the door. She nodded at him, trying and failing to remember his name. There were so many people here. She hadn’t really had to learn anyone’s name in years—not anyone that mattered, anyway—and now she was presented with at least five new people every day.

And they all wore orange. She’d had an almost constant headache from all the color when she first woke up, which really didn’t help her memory or attention span.

The infirmary was almost empty when she got there, just a couple campers tidying up. Two sharp raps to the doorframe drew their attention to her.

“Fletcher. You got the goods?”

Lee Fletcher was the eldest camper in the room, a skinny dark-skinned boy with dreads tied back in a ponytail and a smile sunny enough to announce his parentage without need to be claimed. He was one of the only people whose name Thalia had actually learned since she woke up. He had been the one in charge of monitoring Thalia during the week that she’d spent stuck in the infirmary, and she was still trying to figure out how to properly say ‘thank you for keeping me alive and sane even after I punched you in the face’.

“You owe me for this, you know.” Lee grinned at her and held up one finger in a ‘one second’ gesture, then jogged to his bag in the corner. While he shuffled around in it, Thalia shrugged her bag off her shoulders.

“I had to cash in a favor with Travis Stoll for this. You know how much those are worth?”

“He’s one of the Hermes ones, right?” Thalia stepped into the room and leaned against the wall. “Just tell him it was for me, then he’ll have something on the new kid. You’ll be fine.”

“Here we go!” He straightened up and crossed the room to her, holding out a smuggled CD case. “Brand new, pristine condition. Come back to me when you realize Nimrod is child’s play.”

She took the case and immediately wanted the album art on a pin to add to her jacket—a white hand holding on to a red heart-shaped grenade. Nice. She wouldn’t admit that to Lee yet, though.

“Come on. You’ve heard Nimrod, right? How can you be so confident I’m gonna like this one more?”

“Because Good Riddance is the only song worth remembering on the entire album. Just trust me, American Idiot is gonna blow you away.”

She smirked at him and shoved the CD into her bag. “We’ll see about that. Thanks for getting this for me.”

“No problem. Once you’re done with that, I’m gonna introduce you to My Chemical Romance” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall next to her, sighing with a bittersweet smile. “It’s just nice to have someone else around who has good taste in music again.”

The since Luke left went unsaid, but hung like a summer thunderstorm in the silence after his words. Thalia looked down at her hands, at the few freckles dotting her knuckles and fresh black nail polish she and Annabeth had applied together yesterday. The two of them had spent an hour sitting together like that, painting each other’s nails while Annabeth quizzed Thalia about important global events that had happened while she was out and people she should probably know going forward. It wasn’t hard to imagine him here with them if she thought about it, which is why she didn’t let herself think about it.

Life was simpler when she was a tree.

Lee cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms, tapping the wall behind him twice before pushing off of it. “I, uh, gotta get back to work. You think you’ll start listening before dinner?”

She looked up at him and smiled, but even she could tell it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh yeah. I’ll have a full analysis double-spaced and printed for you by six.” Lee huffed a laugh, and she considered that to be a step forward. Awkward atmosphere who? She could have more than two friends.

“Good. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.”

She sent a wave over her shoulder as she stepped out and made a mental note to talk to him about the album tomorrow. She liked Lee. She wanted to be his friend and was determined to put in the work to make sure that happened, but she wasn’t going to be at dinner tonight. There were more important things on her agenda than team dinner.

The sun was hanging a little closer to the horizon now; not close to sunset yet, but the heat had lost its intensity. She had to get a move on.

Campers stared at her when she was out and about sometimes, which really wasn’t her favorite thing. She’d had enough unwanted attention from the public to last a few lifetimes already. Usually people cared about the other parent, though. The Hephaestus kid coming out of the forge probably didn’t even know who Beryl Grace was, let alone see her wide blue eyes and signature smile on Thalia’s face.

It wasn’t much better, but at least being a child of Zeus came with power. The stare she got now wasn’t just curiosity, it was respect.

She stared down the Hephaestus kid as she walked past, and they had the decency to look embarrassed about staring. Good.

She got halfway to the dining pavilion before she was interrupted again.

“Thalia!”

Annabeth was taller than her now, which didn’t feel like something that should be allowed. When she bounded over to Thalia, all smiles and curls and bright orange t-shirt, Thalia actually had to look up to meet her eyes. It was strange. She had started to think of Annabeth as a little sister somewhere along the road, and when she woke up again, she realized she had missed—six? Seven?—years of Annabeth’s life. That hit her harder than any years of her own life she had missed. As far as Thalia was concerned, she had died at age twelve and been resurrected at age fifteen and that was that.

But Annabeth was tall now, and smiling at her. Thalia smiled back, real despite the mood she had slipped into since leaving Lee. It wasn’t hard.

“Annabeth! How you doing? Where’s Percy?” The boy was usually two steps behind Annabeth, or she was two steps behind him, and they were usually bickering loud enough for half the camp to be able to make an informed decision on whose side they would take if asked.

Annabeth made a face at his name, but she also blushed a bit. Thalia bit back her smirk. The kid tried, but she couldn’t hide her true emotions for anything. She liked to pretend she didn’t drag him around everywhere, but Thalia had only been back for two weeks and it was already a little weird to not see them together.

“I don’t know, doing Percy things? We’re not attached at the hip, you know.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, and Thalia watched it bounce.

That was another thing. Her hair was long now. The day after Thalia woke up, Annabeth had come to sit with her in the infirmary, just to be with her for a while and drink in each other’s presence. Thalia had reached out a hand and touched one of her curls, tugging it a little and watching it bounce back to join the rest. When she had looked at Annabeth’s face again, she had tears in her eyes and a wobbly smile on her mouth.

“It suits you,” Thalia had said. It was true. Annabeth looked so much happier now, so much more confident. She looked as proud as Thalia felt.

Now, tan and tall and comfortable enough to be blushing in the sunlight, it was clear that this place had become her home in the years Thalia had been gone. For a moment, she was hit with how much she had missed.

“We should get our ears pierced together.”

Annabeth blinked at her in surprise. She might have been talking while Thalia wandered into nostalgialand.

“But you already have pierced ears.”

Of course she had pierced ears, she’d grown up with a famous mother who cared more about her baby’s image than the person behind it. Thalia had pierced ears since before she could talk. She also remembered Annabeth being transfixed by her earrings when she thought Thalia wasn’t looking on the road, though. Thalia had missed seven years and hadn’t been able to support Annabeth through most aspects of her transition, but this was something she could be around for.

“I want a double piercing, we should go together.” Thalia squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, looking at Annabeth with challenge in her eyes. “Unless you’re afraid of needles, of course.”

Annabeth bristled, which was exactly what Thalia had been hoping for.

“I’ve faced fully-grown cyclopes and a boat full of angry monsters and the Lord of the Dead himself. I think I can handle one needle.”

“Good. We can sneak out later this week.”

“Or,” Annabeth corrected, “we could wait for September. Chiron told me to find you, he said he snagged a spot for you at the boarding school I’m going to this fall. It’ll be a lot easier to get into the city from school.”

Thalia immediately felt lighter, like a weight she hadn’t even known was there suddenly lifted from her shoulders. A week ago, Chiron had broken it to her that she probably had to stay at camp all year round because of how strong her aura was. She’d been going to the Big House every morning to train with the Mist, but he made sure her hopes didn’t get too high—she needed to get good good before she would be able to safely leave camp.

“For real? He actually said that?”

“Yep! We won’t be roommates, but we’ll be in the same dorm. It’ll be super easy to find me if something goes wrong.”

That meant less of Annabeth’s life that she had to miss because she was sidelined. More time when she could just exist with her little sister, learn who she had become in Thalia’s absence. Learn who she would grown into.

“Sick, you can help me study. I haven’t been to school since I was like seven.”

Annabeth laughed at that. “Neither have I, this is gonna be an interesting year.”

One of Annabeth’s sisters ran over to get her after that, something about an argument about beach volleyball rules getting a little too heated. Names were called, swords were drawn. That seemed like a pretty common occurrence here, though, so Annabeth hadn’t looked too worried as she hugged Thalia and said goodbye. The sun was dipping a little closer to the setting point, anyway. Thalia was running out of time.

A few dryads were setting up the dining pavilion for dinner by the time she got there. If she didn’t want to be stuck waiting for everyone else, she had to be sneaky about how she got her shit. Luckily for her, living on the streets for your formative years was a pretty good way to learn how to get in and out of a place undetected.

The first trick was knowing exactly what you were going to take before you went in to get it. She skirted around to the back of the pavilion and hid behind a column. The table farthest from her held a huge bowl of peaches—easily bruised but still easily grabbable. Closer by, a dryad with stick-straight brown hair wheeled a big dish that kinda looked like a boat with a cover out on a cart, and Thalia dismissed that immediately. Nothing portable was kept in a container like that—it was probably pasta night, or some kind of soup or something. Unless she wanted to ruin her bag and everything in it, that wasn’t an option.

More than one peach, then. That was fine. There was a big basket of fresh rolls next to the probably-pasta, and they smelled good. She’d had worse meals than fresh bread and peaches before.

The second trick was confidence. If you looked like you knew what you were doing, you were a lot less likely to be stopped while you did it. Thalia waited until the dryad had gone back into the kitchens, then walked out from her hiding spot with her shoulders set and her posture relaxed. Carefully casual. She managed to get to the bread and stick three rolls into her bag without drawing any attention at all.

Walking toward the peaches put her directly in the path of another dryad, though. She was just headed out of the kitchens, carrying a platter of still-steaming brownies. She blinked at Thalia twice, and her green eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“It’s not time to eat yet, what are you doing back here?”

Confidence, she reminded herself.

“I was sent here.” Confident statement, confident tone. She was doing great.

The dryad narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? By who? Why?”

Maybe confidence only worked if you had the conviction to back it up. She thought briefly about just getting out of there, but then she remembered that she was getting daily lessons in bullshitting other people. This was a harmless enough reason; she was sure the nymph would understand, and Chiron would probably be fine with her practicing at camp.

Probably.

She breathed in through her nose and thought of what the dryad saw: some punk teenager trying to sneak food before dinner. There had been a moment of recognition, though, right before the suspicion set in. She knew who Thalia was.

Thalia waved her hand in the air, disguising it as adjusting one of the straps on her shoulder. She put both breath and intention behind her words, and prayed to her father that it would actually work.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get in your way. I can’t eat with the rest of the campers for medical reasons tonight. I won’t be much of a hassle, I’m just going to grab a peach before the crowd gets here and I can’t leave.”

The dryad blinked. Her eyes went a little hazy, which immediately filled Thalia with equal parts elation and guilt. It had worked, but she had just preyed on this woman’s kindness. The fact that the words were mostly true was a bit of consolation, at least.

“Of course. Take a brownie, too. I hope you feel better soon.”

She felt bad, but not bad enough to not take a brownie. They smelled fantastic.

After that, she had no trouble getting at the peaches and slipping a few of them into her bag. As she walked away, she heard the squeaking of wheels and the clinking of plates—the harpies had come in to set the tables. She’d gotten out just in time.

Now she just had to get across camp without being noticed and pulled in with the dinner rush. Cutting through the middle of the cabins was the most direct route, but it was also guaranteed to get her seen by well-intentioned curious eyes. She eyed the amphitheater. Going around the far end of that would take more time and would take her closer to the magical camp border than she should go, but it was also the most hidden option. It was probably fine. She had her shield, she had a butterfly knife in her pocket. She took the long route.

As she was skirting around the raised seating, a laugh carried up from the stage—someone must have been using it. The laugh stopped her cold, pulse running wild. Her brain knew that it wasn’t Luke, it couldn’t have been Luke, but—

“Cut it out, Trav! I have a reputation!”

There it was again, the laugh. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, ignored the sudden heat behind her eyes. Of course. The Stolls. It really was incredible how similar siblings could be.

“What reputation, dude? You snorted chocolate milk out your nose last week.”

Thalia hiked her bag further up on her shoulder and walked faster. She’d been stupid. Luke wasn’t here, and it would be a serious threat if he was. She knew that.

She still wasn’t sure if her reaction had been happiness, fear, anger, or a fucked up mix of all of them.

Finally, the giant pine peeked out from the other side of the amphitheater. She gave the entrance a wide berth, not wanting to be seen and not wanting to hear anything more. She focused on the silhouette of the tree against the sky. Even after two full weeks, it felt wrong to look at it from the outside. Like looking down at her hand but not recognizing it as her own.

As she got closer, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d never cared about the scent of pine trees before she’d become one, but now she found herself missing it. She’d technically lived in a pine tree for longer than she’d ever lived almost anywhere else, and her memories of Beryl’s house were both distant and stressful. Cedar, fir, and juniper were the first scents she thought of when she heard the word “home”. Demigod life might be confusing and she might be completely out of the loop, but at least this tree was, too. She could breathe easier as she approached.

The baby dragon that had gotten there earlier that week—Peleus—lifted his head as she got closer, but lowered it again immediately when he saw who it was. The rest of the camp was still pretty uneasy around him, but Thalia didn’t quite get it. He was about the size of a Great Dane and just as affectionate as one, if he trusted you.

He didn’t trust a lot of people yet, though. He knew that Argus was the guy that brought him food and Chiron was the one who clopped away in a funny way if you sneezed fire, so they were okay, but the rest of camp was on thin ice.

He’d never minded Thalia, though. She kind of thought he still recognized her as part of the tree, or maybe he recognized the tree as part of her. Whatever. The dragon loved her, which felt pretty damn good. She patted his head once as she passed his napping spot, and he rumbled something that sounded like a purr but much, much deeper.

She took off her bag and sat heavily on the other side of the trunk, staring out over the forest at the almost-setting sun. In the distance, the conch shell sounded, followed by a loud bang from somewhere around the armory. Probably one of the Hephaestus kids experimenting for the fireworks show. It wouldn’t be for another few days, but camp had been plagued by random crashes and explosions all week. She was getting better at not reacting, getting more used to this camp and all of its eccentricities.

She took the beat-up blue CD player out of her bag, the only relic she still had from her time at home. She’d left Beryl Grace’s house with a duffel bag full of clothes, an entire loaf of bread, a block of cheese, and her trusty CD player. Back then, she only had a Wham! CD that some well-meaning friend of her mother had given her, something that she’d lost somewhere between Montana and Wyoming. The big black over-the-ear headphones that she pulled out next were more recent, but still pretty old by current standards. Luke had stolen them for her from a Radio Shack in Georgia somewhere, as an apology present for some dumb mistake he’d made that day. She couldn’t even remember why she had been mad, but she remembered the way he smiled at her excitement.

She didn’t like dwelling on Luke, but she figured she had one day a year to be sorry for herself. She deserved it. She took the CD Lee had given her out of its case and popped it in the player before bringing out one of the peaches.

The album was good, Lee was right. Better than Nimrod. She let it play as she cut up the peaches with her butterfly knife and ate them, either sliced on top of the bread or just plain. They were juicier than they should have been this early in the summer, but she figured it was probably some bullshit divine magic. Everything here ran on it. She bit into one of the rolls, still warm despite the walk.

So Luke was evil now. That’s what Percy said that first day, at least, and Annabeth had looked too distressed to correct him at the time. She’d gotten defensive since then, put her foot down when the topic came up—which really wasn’t that often, whenever both Annabeth and Thalia were in a room—and made sure everyone knew that Luke was still good. Just misguided.

Thalia had no idea what to think. Some of the stories about him she understood completely. Starting a rebellion against the gods because they were shitty parents? Yeah, that checked. The two of them had done their fair share of griping about the awful hand they’d been dealt when they were on the run, and there was really no way that blame didn’t rest directly on their parents’ shoulders. Her death had probably made that worse for him, and she sincerely felt for him there.

Hurting kids, though? Especially someone who was so close to Annabeth, someone she clearly cared about? That was a little farfetched. Percy seemed like an honest kid, and everyone else she had asked backed him up on the whole scorpion story (and the several subsequent swordfights), but she still couldn’t quite get her heart to believe that Luke had tried to kill this boy when he was twelve. Percy was still shorter than Thalia, and he had this sharp air around him that reminded Thalia of Luke sometimes. He couldn’t do that, right? She knew him. She trusted him. They had been angry on the road, yeah, but they had taken Annabeth in without blinking. That anger was directed entirely at the gods. He wouldn’t try to destroy the one safe place on the planet for kids like them.

She flat-out refused to believe that Luke had poisoned her. Or—if he had, he had poisoned the tree. He thought Thalia was dead, Thalia was supposed to be dead. The tree itself wouldn’t have mattered.

(She didn’t think of the motivation behind poisoning the tree. She couldn’t.)

So some of what she heard had to be bullshit, plain and simple, but…

She’d caught a few people laughing at some of her jokes about him, his harmless quirks and manners of speech, before they caught themselves. They knew him, they’d known him before whatever actually happened went down. Before he became evil or whatever. Some of them had clearly been friends with him—not to the same extent, but still—and they all said he’d done these terrible things. So she didn’t know what to think. They knew him, but maybe they didn’t know him as well as she did.

Then again, maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought. People changed. Maybe her best friend became a child murderer.

She wiped the butterfly knife on her pants before she closed it and stuck it in her pocket, done with her peaches and bread. The song that had just started was nice, more mellow and low-key than the rest of the album. It sounded sad, minor chords and a mournful voice, but she hadn’t been paying much attention to the lyrics. She would have to listen to the whole album again before she talked to Lee tomorrow. That was okay, it was good. She would have re-listened to it anyway.

The sun was finally setting for real, and she thunked her head against the trunk of the tree behind her. Whether or not she liked it, whether or not she believed it was Luke, someone had poisoned her tree. Either to get at camp or to get at her specifically, she didn’t know. It would have ended up the same either way. She wasn’t supposed to be awake, she didn’t want to be awake, but here she was. And now, from what Chiron had told her that morning about a prophecy, she was expected to go and kill her best friend on her next birthday.

Welcome back to life, Thalia.

She thought she had died so that Luke, Annabeth, and Grover could be safe, so that they could all have somewhere that would feel like home and protect them from the monsters. Now Annabeth had battle scars all over and Grover had just spent two weeks captive and in terror for his life and Luke had become the monster she was expected to fight and she was still alive, so her sacrifice meant nothing.

She took a shaky breath and felt how much cooler the breeze was against the tracks her tears had made. Tonight wasn’t about Luke. She had to move on. There would be time to think about him later.

For now she paused the music at the end of the slow song, but she kept the bulky headphones on. She knew she was less likely to be disturbed like this, dressed in her ripped-up ratty jeans with her angry eyeliner and big black headphones. ‘Difficult to talk to’ was the exact look she had been going for that afternoon. She moved away from the trunk of the tree, but not far enough that her silhouette would be noticeable to a faraway observer. Still under the wide boughs, still enclosed in comfort. She cleared a circle about a foot wide of any pine needles, thankful that a combination of Peleus and shade meant that grass never successfully grew under the tree.

She took a few tissues from her bag and set them in the center of the circle, smoothing down their edges in an attempt to look nice. It probably wasn’t necessary, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Gently, she set the brownie she’d gotten from the nymph in the center of the napkins. Then she took out her old electric blue gas station lighter. She was kind of surprised it still had fluid after all these years, but she was grateful for it. Stealing a lighter or matches would have been a lot harder for her than stealing some peaches.

She lit the tissues. As the flames crept closer to the brownie, she prayed.

“Hey, Hades. It’s me. Again.” The tissue burned out completely, but the moist brownie caught fire, so she guessed he had probably heard.

“I know it’s been a few years. Also you tried to kill me, which wasn’t cool and probably means you hate me, but I get it. I guess. You can hate me, that’s fine. I just—” She swallowed, suddenly aware of how hot her eyes had become. She felt a tear fall onto her arm. If Hades was listening, he probably already knew what she was going to say. She’d done this every year, but she needed to say it again. She needed to.

“Please take care of Jason.” She blinked past the wetness in her eyes and watched the fire spread over the brownie in unnatural colors—blue and white, purple and gold. It smelled like it was baking instead of burning. She hoped that Jason could smell it from wherever his little two-year-old soul was down there.

“I know it’s not cake, but you always liked these better anyway. Happy birthday, bud. Miss you.”

The worst thing about waking up so close to July was that she wasn’t used to the years she had skipped yet. She was fifteen and she shouldn’t have been fifteen and it took her a full minute to figure out how old Jason should have been starting today.

Twelve. It would have been his twelfth birthday, had he survived past his second. Had Thalia not left him with their mother. Had she run away a week earlier, towing him along behind her. Would he and Annabeth have been friends? What would he think of Luke? Of Camp Half-Blood?

When she’d made her last stand seven years ago, right here in this spot, her final thoughts hadn’t actually been about protecting Annabeth or Luke or Grover. That was her motivation, yes, but her last thoughts had actually been about her brother. There was no way she would get out of that encounter alive, she knew that. She thought she had known that. The last thing she remembered thinking before she woke up was I hope I get to see Jason again.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the mingling scents of pine and baking brownies. It was July First, and Thalia was allowed to be sad today. She would pull herself together by tomorrow, she always did, but she was allowed to cry tonight.

She opened her eyes and watched the colors as the sun finally dipped to touch the horizon, flames in the sky mirroring the burning brownie in front of her, and mourned for all she had lost.

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lightoftruth · 3 years

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The Walt Disney Corporation has been allegedly holding extensive critical race theory training for employees.

Internal documents obtained by Christopher Rufo, a senior fellow at Manhattan Institute, show Disney launching a “diversity and inclusion” program called “Reimagine Tomorrow.” The trainings discuss the leftist ideas of “systemic racism,” “white privilege,” “white fragility,” “white saviors,” “microaggressions,” and “antiracism.” The subtitle of the booklet guide reads: “Allyship for Race Consciousness.”

Disney, which owns ABC, ESPN, Touchstone Pictures, Marvel, Lucasfilm, and other major media companies, instructed employees to “take ownership of educating yourself about structural anti-Black racism” as well as “not rely on your Black colleagues to educate you,” which would be “emotionally taxing.”

“When America’s storied places of joy and refuge from the cares of the world turn themselves into partisan actors and political indoctrination factories, the harm to our social fabric is immeasurable,” Stanley Kurtz, a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, told The Federalist. “Disney is dividing the country it once helped to inspire, inviting entirely justified blowback from the vast number of Americans it now derogates, disregards, and caricatures. I thought politicized baseball was the unkindest cut of all, but now this. As Disney and other woke corporations plunge America into the bitterest cultural conflict in memory, they deserve to feel shame, not pride.”

The training modules centralize the notion of “anti-racism” — the idea that Americans must acknowledge their country is systemically racist and eradicate any semblance of a colorblind society. The company told employees they must also “work through feelings of guilt, shame, and defensiveness to understand what is beneath them and what needs to be healed,” harping on the notion of implicit bias. The phrase “All Lives Matter” was communicated as derogatory, and so was the phrase “I don’t see color.”

One module in the training titled “What Can I Do About Racism?” instructed staff to denounce the idea of “equality” and instead favor “equity.” The corporation crafted a “21-Day Racial Equity and Social Justice Challenge” that was followed by a “white privilege checklist.” The checklist claims a variety of statements, if affirmed, indicate a person’s “privilege.” This includes some of the following statements:

I am white.

I have never tried to hide my sexuality.

I am a man.

I have never felt poor.

I went to summer camp.

I have never had an addiction.

Below is the full document Rufo obtained from a Disney whistleblower:

In addition to other modules, employees were provided several outside resources. This included a guide titled “75 Things White People Can Do For Racial Justice” that claims readers should support “defund[ing] the police” and “decolonize your bookshelf.”

The guide also claims employees should read The New York Times’s inaccurate and divisive “1619 Project” by Nikole Hannah-Jones. Streaming service Hulu, owned by Disney, is streaming a docuseries on Hannah-Jones’s work. The company described the “1619 Project” as “a landmark undertaking …of the brutal racism that endures in so many aspects of American life today.”

Dr. James A. Lindsay, the founder of New Discourses and the author of “Cynical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race, Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody,” told The Federalist that Americans “have to stop being shocked” about critical race theory trainings.

“This is happening pretty much everywhere,” Lindsay said. “What’s happening at Disney, while it looks very extreme, is actually quite typical. We see almost exactly the same kinds of things playing out in terms of what these trainings are made up of and what they include. The picture that has to come across somehow is these aren’t isolated incidents. This is government agencies. This is churches. This is virtually every university. This is many if not most school districts.”

Further dividing its employees by race and sex, Disney crafted “affinity groups” for minority employees to join. The groups are titled “Hola” for latino individuals, “Compass” for asians, and “Wakanda” for blacks. The objective of the groups is to provide “culturally-authentic insights” for employees and encourage “diversity,” “inclusion,” “belonging,” “identity,” and “allyship.” There is no group provided for all individuals to join.

Employees told Rufo the corporation sends “almost daily memos” on such issues and that Disney is “completely ideologically one-sided.” Numerous employees concurred and one claimed the corporate environment is “very stifled.”

“It’s been very stifling to feel like everyone keeps talking about having open dialogue and compassionate conversations, but when it comes down to it, I know if I said one thing that was truthful, based on data, or even just based on my own personal experience, it would actually be rather unwelcomed,” a Christian and conservative employee said.

In a video obtained by Rufo, Executive Chairman Bob Iger allegedly said Disney will not “shy away from politics” and “should be taking a stand” on identity politics issues. Iger also allegedly said the films “Dumbo,” “Aladdin,” and “Fantasia” are “racist content.” The company fired “The Mandalorian” actress Gina Carano in February for not displaying allegiance to identity politics while continuing to do business with a genocidal Communist China.

HD Editor’s Note: Why Is This News Biblically Relevant?

When Jesus’ disciples came to Him and asked, “What shall be the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world?” Jesus explained to them that one of the signs that would precede His coming would be “nations” rising against “nations.”

The word “nations” found in this verse (Matthew 24:7) is from the Greek word “ethnos,” where we get our English word for “ethnicity.” Therefore, this verse can also be read that “ethnicity shall rise against ethnicity” in the last days.

Racism is not new. However, what is new to our generation is the fabricated racism taught in schools, espoused by the media, and canceled by ‘culture.’ This stoking of division will, in the not too distant future, lead to genuine widespread racism. Racism is a sin. Creating division and hatred is a sin (Prov. 6:16-19, Luke 11:17, 1 John 2:9). All of these things are deeply rooted in a rebellion against God, His Word, and His design.

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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The Three Caballeros Movie Review: Rejoice Now Donald’s Been Laid (Commission)

It’s time at long last we talked about those three happy chappies in snappy serapes. Who say so? @weirdkev27 say so! He’s planning on funding an ENTIRE retrospective on the boys, so in addition to my Tom Lucitor Retrospective (Expect that to return very soon as one of the episodes in it is time sensitive), Road to Just Us Justice Ducks, and look at “The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck”. I’m proud to announce a new recurring feature on this blog “The Ride of the Three Caballeros!”, a look back at these birds of a feather who flock together and their wild and wonderful history cumulating in “The Legend of The Three Caballeros”. Honestly I thank Kev for the idea as it’s a damn good one. Ever since seeing them on House of Mouse, which I both really need to cover and Disney needs to add already as we’re a year into Disney plus already, I’ve loved Jose and Panchito, and reading barks story years ago, and again recently, gave me a lasting love of these goofs. They have great snappy designs are the rare pre-ducktales 2017 non duck bird character, and have wonderful personalities. There’s nothing not to love and thus nothing not to love about covering their adventures. So i’m excited for this and not just for the much needed christmas money. Naturally we’re starting the adventure here with the founding of the trio, though Kev, for now he could change his mind, choose to start with this movie instead of it’s predecessor Saludos Amigos, on this date for two reasons. The first is it’s Friday the 13th, which besides being the basis for an utter classic of a Hey Arnold episode

Which yes for those unfamiliar with Hey Arnold features Arnold dealing with a spell of bad luck, some bullies and his grandmother dressing up wlike a black cat to rescue black cats, which is sweet.. and training them into her horrifying army of the damned, which is somehow still sweet as it is awesome. It’s also the day this guy barges into my house thinking it’s camp crystal lake

I swear to gods Jason GET A FUCKING PHONE WITH GPS. We are not clearly not teenagers. And he’s always so embarrassed and the stab wounds always take so long at the hospital to treat. It’s just a mess. But it’s also, according to this film Donald’s BIrthday! This was during an earlier point in his career, that will be important in a bit, so Disney hadn’t yet settled on their tradition of having their characters birthday’s being the same date as their first appearance. For the record that would make Donald and Della’s current birthday June 7th. I did a special on Donald Duck shorts for it this year. Not sure what i’ll do the next. We will see. And for fun and my own curiosity I looked up the birthdates of some of the other Ducktales castmembers as well as my boys here They are:

Jose: August 24th (World Premier of Saludos Amigos) Panchito: December 21st (The Mexico City Premiere Date for this very movie) Scrooge: November 14th (Thank you INducks seriously it’s a massive help with this. Daisy: June 7th (Debut of Mr. Duck Steps out) Huey, Dewey and Louie: October 17th (First appearance in Donald’s Newspaper Strip) Webby, Beakley and Launchpad: September 18th, thanks to launchpad’s driver’s license as well as all three characters debuting in the opening arc. Though to separate them i’d likely try to find different dates for both. For now i’m going with October 12th for Mrs. Beakly (The airing date for the Ducktales 87 ep maid of myth) and October 29th for Webby (the airing date for another 87 episode, this one about webby and a horse). Gladstone: August 15th, as while it was released in january there is no firm release date for it. Plus a summer birthday fits him better anyways. Thank you Inducks for that. Magica: September 28th, finally a firm publication date. While there’s a creation date unlike Gladstone I see no need to use it. Darkwing Duck/Drake Mallard: September 6th GLOMGOLD: July 26th Was that entirely necessary? No Would I do it again.. absolutely. It also means I really need to do something for Scrooge’s Birthday in two days. But that’s future me’s problem. Current day me has his own problems specifically a movie review to continue. The films genesis was a in a good will tour Disney did in South America, as part of America’s Good Neighbor Policy. FDR started it in order to try and strengthen ties between Latin America and North America, to prevent any sort of war with our close neighbors and to foster good economic ties between both as well as integrate Latin culture into americans lives to make them care about those countries more. And given it was started as HItler’s rise to power grew, and America knew they’d inevitably be dragged into World War II, and thus wanted to put the kibosh on several Latin American’s Nazi Ties. So in exchange for Money, since Disney was struggling due to overextending itself and the big animator’s strike at the time, The US sent Walt and some of his animatiors to South America, where MIckey Donald and Goofy were big and to make a film based there. Hence we got Saludos Amigos which is .. kind of forgettable to be honest, though the Gaucho Goofy segment is fantastic as the “How to” shorts with goofy around the time usually were. But the film gave us Jose, hence why Donald and him are familiar with each other here, and was a moderate success. This lead to the Goverment, who’d already contracted a bunch of propaganda, one of which I covered in my Donald Duck Shorts Birthday Marathon because it contained prototypes for Gladstone and Scrooge, so another feature for South America was a win win: The US got another way to strengthen ties between the Americas, and Disney got a film they could put out during said war to lift spirits, as well as on that would likely be a hit in South America due to them not being under wartime money crunch or the misery of having a war looming overhead. As a side note. I found out after looking at the wikpiedia article on The Good Neighbor Program.. it eventually and sadly collapsed as the US post WWII shifted to the Cold War and thus threw away non interference if it meant beating the Russians. Classy. So yeah.. this film and i’ts predecessor are technically propaganda pictures. There was also another disney full length propoganda picture about fighter jets, I only learned about this thanks to the slashfilm article I found on the movie that told me a lot of this in the first place. It’s not avaliable but it should be.. though at the very least unlike say House of Mouse, Wander Over Yonder, Penn Zero: Part Time Hero, American Dragon Jake Long, The Weekenders, Pepper Anne and MANY more, it’s absence from Disney + makes sense. And I will continue to bitch about this till Disney actually starts adding more legacy animated shows, or at least makes a few of it’s own, though I will concede reviving the Mickey Mouse shorts that Disney Channel started up is a VERY good first step and i’m sure What If and Proud Family: Louder and Prouder will be fine. I just want more animation content on the streaming platform of one of the biggest animation studios in the world with one of the most storied histories. I’m REALLY not asking a lot.

That bit of bitching aside I will give Disney+ credit where it’s due. The service offers MOST of the Disney vault for a very reasonable price a month, in crisp HD, and thus allows someone like me, who hasn’t really dived into the disney vault and slept on watching three cabs despite borrowing it from some friends, to dive into beautiful animation like this any time. It also allows me to explore disney’s older films, the ones I want to anyway, at my leisure and it’s a REALLY nice feeling. It’s also nice to have all the various animated shows in nice clean copies. So while there are sizeable gaps in the library, many of which as highlighted above have no reason for not being there and some like Song of the South have DAMN GOOD reason for never being there, I still apricate the service for being a vast, glorious digital library of Disney content as well as stuff they’ve acquired like the marvel show library, and this review would not have been as easy to do without it. So with my opinions on D+ and the exposition for WHY this exists out of the way, as I couldn’t find much else on this flim’s background, join me after the read more for a full review of the film! Who says so? I says so!

We open with.. the Disney+ content warning again. In my review of the last part of “Catch as Cash Can” I went on about how much I apricated it and it stands: while i’m not blind that it’s a blanket statement to cover disney’s rears, it’s still apricated for them to care enough to force the content warning on the viewer. Given how bad they usually are at falling on the right side of history, this is very admirable. Though thankfully this film isn’t as offensive as the last content warning I got for the last part of “Catch as Cash can” aka “Watch registered White Guy Hamilton Camp play a bad indian sterotype for 22 minutes while my soul slowly dies”. Here there are bits, which i’ll get to now to save me the trouble later: The Littlest Gaucho’s side characters are all drawn pretty carcturish and a bit cringe inducing. The other is of course Panchito our Mexican representative.. who wears a sombrero and shoots two pistols around. And there’s just a tinge of white man going ot another country to get laid with the way Donald behaves throughout the picture. Basically little touches here and there but nothing that spoils the picture overall or makes whole scenes unwatchable. Still worth having the warning up, but not worth getting too worked up over. So onto the film itself and as mentioned i’ts Donald’s birthday! And I will say the film has lots of great little gags here and there.. I won’t be pointing all of them out because this film was 70 minutes long but their very charming. HIs first gift is a projector and screen.. which he naturally has to fight to get working and which first projects on his ass, already a good start. And a general thought I like is how receptive Donald is to soaking in another culture. He just seems joyusly enthralled by the various films, gifts and places his friends bring him..

But again we’ll get to that. Point is it’s very nice to see Disney portay learning about another culture so positively and with such a hot head as donald. Even if i’ts in part to appease the US Goverment, ther’es a genuine feeling that they truly fell in love with these countries and aren’t JUST shilling them because it’s in their contract, but because they genuinelly liked it there. So with that we get to our first segment. See the film is one of Disney’s Package films, anthology films taking a bunch of short segments and pasting them together, but here it’s framed through the narrative of DOnald’s birthday, so there is KIND of a plot.. but it’s mostly an excuse for musical numbers, short films, and more musical numbers.

Dammit Elmo, we will get to it! So naturally i’l lbe dividing up this review into various pieces. First up...

1. The Cold Blooded Penguin: Life of Pablo, The Good Version This is a brief but endearing short about a Penguin named Pablo who dosen’t like cold weather, can relate, and wants to move to some tropical paradise, again can relate. It’s BARELY related to the theme of hte movie, celebrating Central and South America, but it’s so damn charming I can’t help but love it. And Pablo is so damn adorable, as are his friends. I mean look at him.

He’s just so precious and you just want him to finally get to his paradise with the help of his friend, his boiler there smokey joe, and root for him as his farewell party dwindles from a bunch of penguins to just bob and gary here.

I may love Gary, the tall one, more than I love Pablo honestly> His sad eyes or the way he’s the ONLY one who sticks it out to the end, seeing Pablo off at last. Pablo’s first attempts, going without his boiler, which just ends iwth him freezing and attempting to carry smokey joe on his back both fail, he eventually decides to go with a boat and cleverly simply saws the ice berg he’s on so it’ll drift with his house and possessions, and has Gary hit it with a bottle both to christen it and to send it flying. Plus having bags on the bags on my eyes myself, I can relate to their tired expressions. As can we all after this year. Just a month and a half and it’s finally blessedly over.

Pablo makes his way through, finally finding his island only to nearly have his iceberg melt before he gets there. But he persevers and gets his paradise, even adorably eating a banana> Though it ends on a mealoncholy yet still funny note of Pablo missing home even though he has a pet turtle/butler now. Man I want one of those. One final note is that the short is narrated greatly by Sterling Holloway.. aka the future WInnie The Pooh using that exact voice which while a little weird in hindsight, just makes the short that more adorable if you imagine Pooh is reading a story to you. Just a really damn cute short with some good and intentive gags, and penguins. I mean i’ll be honest I have a soft spot in my hart for those tudeoxed boys thanks to the comic strip BLoom County and it’s lead character Opus taking up a LOT of real estate in my heart and brain. Here’s a few samples of him just so you get why.

Just a sweetheart. Though his honker would grow exponenitally with time. And once get grabbed by a card carrying MAGA asshole. But I can talk about my boy here and this strip again another day. Point is I may love pengies but even that aside this is a good short and a good way to start things off. Sadlly the pacing then lops out a bit as the next two bits aren’t QUITE as entertaining.

2. Birds Birds Birds: Of Arcuan BIrds and Toucan Sex Donald then watches a film on birds, and i’ts basically just a bunch of short funny gags with various tropical birds. There are a FEW notable bit sin the short, and I will get to them now, but otherwise it’s just okay.. not great but not exactly memorable. I honestly forgot there was anything BUT the Arcuan bird in this bit. Speaking of which A) The Arcuan Bird, a hyperactive pink little guy who makes a little “yatatata” noise, and boops donald a bit and later shows up in the film to steal Jose’s Cigar. Easily the most entertaining part of this section and there’s a reason why he became a massive fan faviorite, as well as got a more expanded roll in Legend of the Three Cablleros. He’d also apparently later return for another Package Film. What a bird. B) There’s a bit with Toucans, which I remember because I freaking love Toucans, the big colorful beaks look neat contrasted with their black and white bodies and they seem friendly and the one fictional one besides Toucan Sam I can rmemeber is Tuca of Tuca and Bertie. Nuff said. And because they mention the Tucan’s making love. First off this is how a Tucan makes love.

And secondly, clealry the term has evolved considerably, but it’s still chuckle inducing to have that term in a disney movie, especially since it makes me think of a number of things most notably this.

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Which, fun fact, is the song that will likely be sung when Donald and Daisy finally have sex in the Ducktales Reboot. Della didn’t buy those choir robes for nothing. Though the joke here is simply that they can’t kiss because they have big noses. GET IT. Though I have seen incompatable noses end marriages.

See I told you his honker got bigger. Okay onto the 3rd thing from this bit.

C) The Flamingos, who retract into themselves while Donald adorably copies. What a boy. With that I can move on from this segement thankfully and onto... an even worse one!.. wait...

3. The Littlest Gaucho: The Boring One This one’s a leftover from Saludos Amigos, likely because that one already had a Gaucho Bit with goofy and because it’s not very good. But Disney was strapped for cash so use everything you got. And yes I advocated for using everything in my review of life and times part 1.. but that’s more for a shared universe and left “Oh hey I found this short in our garbage let’s put it in another movie to save money” way. I appreciate being cheap, I myself am unemployed and right now these reviews are my source of income, but you could’ve just you know.. let the film be shorter? You didn’t have to waste animation leading inito this bit. This one is the story of a young boy, as narrated by his older self who can somehow see through the veil of time and yell at his younger self. How?

But it dosen’t really help the story as i’ve seen far better interactive narrators and ones clearly editing history. Especially since, despite ending on a VERY sour note, How I Met Your Mother was a pro at this. It’s not the film’s fault, but even back int he 40′s I swear they could do this better.

It’s the simple story of the little Gaucho finding a flying Donkey, befriending him, and then entering him in a jockey race which they win. There’s one or two good gags here, but it dosen’t have the cutness of the previous segments and only one or two good gags. It just feels like filler and if I watch the film again, which I probably will, I will fast forward past this. Thankfully after this we finally get a break.

4. A Song For Bahia: They call him JOSEEEEEEEEE.. and he’s Donald

Jose enters! Donald’s next gift is a book from Brazil that’s smoking..mostly because so’s Jose. The two friends reunite, with Jose in a story book asking Donald about , what I assume is Jose’s home state of Bahia, one of Brazil’s 20 states and spelled Baia in this movie for some reason. We then get an absolutely beautiful sequence of Jose’s voice actor singing about Bahia and showing off how beautiful the country is through gorgeous animation. It’s a really marvelous segment and really pretty to look at. And once that segment’s done the film starts to pick up in energy, though unlike the Gaucho segment, the Bahia song is actually good.

5. Os Quindins de Yayá: The Sleeper Has Awakened.. and by the sleeper I mean Donald’s Penis. There’s a few bits here. We start with the wonderful song, “Have You Ever Been to Bahia?”.. which is almost entirely Jose asking that to donald who says no, with some fun mindscrewy animation.. the film has not BEGUN to mindscrew, but we’ll get to that.

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Also for this segment Jose apparently has Jamie Madrox powers.. or he’s from Cragg.. either way, Donald hasn’t been to Baia so let’s go. The boys take a train, the Arucan messes things up again, etc etc and soon their in Baia where two major aspects of the film show up: Blending Live action with animation, and Donald being really horny. It’s not to a creepy degree outside of one segment, we’ll get there, but Donald being really into live action women is a major part of three segments of this film. If your wondering while Daisy had debuted, she wasn’t the ETCHED IN STONE, presence she’d become for Donald. Which I don’t have a problem with, I love them in Ducktales 2017, their one of the few tolerable aspects of the quack pack’s i’ve watched, and they were great in House of Mouse. I”m just saying some works don’t really have her around in them (Donald’s spy and papernik adventures), while other more charming and eligible women are, while others have her as outright abusive (Legend of the Three Caballeros). I’m not against Donsy when done properly, again huge fan of the Ducktales 2017 version of the couple, I just dont’ think it has to be mandatory. The fact the Italian comics made Donald a fairly likeable alien queen as a love interest proves it.

But yeah here Donald’s thirsty as fuck, can relate, and thus we get our next musical number.. and that blend of live action and animation. I will admit, especially on second viewing.. it’s pretty obvious their mostly using a green screened animated backdrop with the charcters on it. The other segments are much more integrated. That being said.. i’m perfectly fine with it, as Disney was on a really low budget, only able to get financing for package films like this since their main financer wouldn’t given them money for anything but shorts, so it was a workaround, not to mention having a mass talent exodus over the strike and World Fucking War II to contend with. So cheeping out on ONE segment in a large film, and STILL having it come out good is fine just fine. And it truly does, the segment centers around Yaya, a cookie seller and the object of Donald’s affections, though he gets mad when a guitar man slips in and woos her instead for a bit before eventually leaving her alone, with Donald getting a kiss. But while parts of that clearly haven’t aged well, it’s an utterly joyous and fun musical number in an already fun musical, and Aurora Miranda who plays Yaya, and is sister of Carmen Miranda something Disney actually put in promotional materials.... come to think of it I didn’t watch the trailer.. I’ll get to it in a moment. Point is, Miranda is very talented and it’s VERY fun number. Have a listen since the sequence itself is WAY to long to put video of up on youtube.

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And having watched the trailer during that music break, it’s not bad, I expected more cringe. The most I got was them calling the women “latin american lovlies” which.. seems.. wrong. But with the romance of Bahia setting and Donald dragged out by Jose, we can get into our next segement as, over halfway in, we finally get our third Cabllero

6. The Three Cablleros: Who Say So? We Say So!

HERE COMES THE PANCHITO Ladies and Gentleman and Others! HERE COMES THE PANCHITO! the moment you’ve been waiting for! HERE COMES THE PANCHITO! the pride of Mexico! HERE COMES PANCHITO! Panchito Pistoles!

When then meet Panchito who joyfully shoots guns around, because stereotype but thankfully he’s also joyful, jubilant and likeable much like his pal Jose. Panchito’s just a thoughtly likeable character and next to his smooth talking pal, it’s easy to see why the two became huge fan favorites. And thus we get our title track.

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IT’s a beautiful, fun segment, that while some portions, such as Panchito’s yelling or “some Latin baby’ haven’t aged particularly well, is still a fun colorful number with amazing music and great gags, that utterly sells our boys camaraderie. I have no notes, ten out of ten flawless classic number. Who Say So? I SAY SO! Also given both boys kiss Donald at some point.. yeah these boys are bi as fuck and damn i’ts awesome.

7. Mexico: Bored Again, Naturally. Donald then gets a pinata and we get a short story about a bunch of kids going around to places only to be told “no shelter no posada”. Like the Gauchito bit.. it’s pretty boring and nonconesquential and only gets a leg up due to being far shorter and a little adorable versus not really as adorable as the segement thinks it is. The kids end up at a party with a pinata. We do get a fun sequence after this nothing of a story of Donald batting a pinata around while the boys mess with him a bit. It’s fun stuff. Out of the PInata we get another storybook, and another slow segement of Panchito singing about mexico which is a less fluidly animated, and thus far less entertaining, version of the Bahia song.. diffrent song, same premise of a bird melodically and beautifully singing about his home land, but less engaging because it’s just still images. I get they were low on budget but while I can forigve that for the Yaya sequence.. this one.. I just can’t as they not only already did this, but did it less good the second time around. The song is lovely though, and I do miss a time in our culture when we looked at Mexico with fondness and didn’t have a FAR too large portion of our population think anyone from there should go back where they came when they come to our brave country to find shelter, aslym and opportunity just because they didn’t go through “proper channels’ even though that’s difficult. WHat i’m saying is fuck our immigration policy for the last 4 years, and bless the president-elect for planning to fix that ASAP. I felt it was worth mentioning in a review ABOUT a Mexican character who, in the reboot, is an immigrant to America.

8. Everybody Dance: Another fun number.

We’re onto Mexico and it’s time for another musical number

So our heroes dance, Donald hits on some more women.. stuff we’ve seen before but it’s still a fun beautiful song and unlike the last bit while the animation has clearly aged enough to be more obvious, it still looks great next to the various live action dancers and blends real well. A fun time that gives us more great music and another reminder from donald that...

I mean I get being thirsty as shit, again can relate.. but the next segment takes it from Donald and the Boys being kinda horny to.

9. The Beach: Donald Gets Creeptacular

Yeah this bit is .. less endearing. The boys fly the serape over to a beach, and divebomb the girls, which isn’t a sex act.. that i’m aware of. But yeah chasing around several women, and donald leaving the Serape to chase them around old beach movie/benie hill/trying my patience style. It’s cringe is what i’m saying as a man literally chasing a woman around is considered flirtitng here and that’s all kinds of EUGGGGHHHH. The previous segments had Donald be kind of respectful in his woman chasing: while he was pretty horny, he also tipped his hat, flirted a bit, asked to dance you know, normal shit.. not decided “let’s chase them with a serape that will turn them on!’ jesus.. yeah not much to say here either just.. really creepy. But we have not reached peak horny donald yet.. oh no.

10. Donald’s Surreal Revere: WHAT EXACTLY THE FUCK.

Dora Luz appears in the sky of Mexico after the boys exit the book and flip to Mexico’s night life... just go with hit and Donald swoons over her before joining her int he book and after getting a kiss from her and swooning over her.. has an acid trip. I .. I don’t know how else to describe Donald’s surreal reverie. It’s clear Walt just told the animators do whatever. I will TRY to describe this sequence as best I can, but I make no promises except what I describe is exactly what happened, see for yourself.

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Okay so after Dora’s magical floating kisses, just go with it, kiss donald he explodes, in a rocket blast clearly symbolizing his errection, then becomes a neon sign and a hummingbird, just go with it, tries to kiss Dora’s image appearing on a flower, then Jose and Panchito BURST out of the flower with tiny chipmunk voices and gun violence, a SCREAMING TECHNICOLOR TRANSTION, dora singing the song in the middle of a flower again , donald making out with the flower but it turning out ot be panchito with a giraffe neck saying “Some fun eh kid?”, donald falling through a sea of ladies, donald chasing the ladies on a serape. Donald’s disembodied head looking at the ladies before bursting out of the picture to chase them GOOD GOD DID WE NEED MORE OF THAT?! The boys ending up on female bodies and them some sort of horse abomination. Then we get into what must of inspiried a young david Lynch as donald kisses the flower agian, then ends up in one as they replay a creepy whispery recording of either Jose or Panchito saying pretty girls while we see still images of the girls from the beach. Hummingbird Flower Donald then has a romantic duet with a lady because WHY NOT at this point, then multiple donalds before he spins away. We get one last number with donald dancing with living cacti that turn into mini donald’s that’s slightly more sane and finally this bit is done. IN conclusion.

I just.. I have no words. The giant mess of text up there should explain it and I purposfully didn’t divy it up as i’ve been trying to do more often, as it deserves to be one long string of nonsense. I just.. it’s beautiful to look at but what the hell was that. Is this going to happen every time Donald and Daisy have sex? Is this what Donald’s brain is like all the time? Did Panchito inject him with pure liquid acid?

So yeah we thankfully conclude the film after that with

14. The Wrap UP The boys horse around with a bull and then heartwarmingly watch fireworks together.. there isn’t much to add it’s jsut fun to watch and a nice pallete cleanser after loosing my sanity. Isn’t that right keith david?

You always say that! So...

Final Thoughts: I’ve made my thoughts on the various segments clear, but what of the film as a whole? As a whole.. it’s pretty fun. Is it the best film Disney’s Produced? probably not. But it’s a fun, brisk 70 minutes, hampered by a few slow spots and some weird horny bits, and various segments feel like an acid trip despite having never taken acid. But our boys easlly anchor the surreality and thirst and all three have great chemistry both comedically, friendship wise and romantically. It’s also very easy to see why this film and it’s cablleros got big in Mexico and Brazil as the film seems like a love letter to both, and is fairly respectful. WHich for the time, sex tourism aside, is pretty damn inspried. So yeah in conclusion, this is a really fun memorable film, it was even better on a second watch and it’s an enjoyable colorful reminder of Disney’s package film era, which I might dig into a bit.. I just may have to borrow a copy of make mine music.. guess what just got added to my list of “why the fuck isn’t this on disney plussss?”

Regardless this was a fun review and auspcious start to the ride of the Cablleros. if you’d like to comission your own movie or tv review, hit up my ask box or submit box or shoot me an ask to get my discord. You can also join my patreon, patreon.com/popculturebuffet, Until then you can check this space for the various ongoing series mentioned and regular Ducktales coverage every monday. Until then, Adios, with a christmas message from my personal fourth Cabllero

#the three caballeros #donald duck #panchito pistoles #jose carioca #bahia #mexico #donsy #opus the penguin #bloom county #ducktales #aurora miranda #disney #disney plus #disney +#disney+#comissions #ride of the three cablleros

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jubilantwriter · 4 years

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Jaspvid Week 2020: Day 3 - Summer

fuck it at this rate i’m just gonna be posting late never get a night shift job y’all

(AO3) @jaspvid-week

You Can't be Traumatized if You Don't Go to Summer Camp

Summary: They met by an ice cream truck as children. And since then, it’s been a tradition for them to meet up and buy ice cream together.

Word Count: 5088

Jasper loves summer. Summer means no school, no homework, and no teachers to be bummed out by! Since he's eleven now, he thinks that maybe his mom will let him go to the community pool more often, since he can totally swim by himself without her worrying that he'll go to the deep end and drown.

He's too rad for that anyways! And since summer vacation started, he's been having fun watching the Saturday morning cartoons and hanging out with his friends whenever they want to come over and play. With the heat bringing it's A game this year though, more and more of his time is spent just lounging inside his house, trying to beat the heat with his mom's rotating fan.

In fact, here he sits, mouth wide open as he makes a long "ahhhh" sound at it, giggling as the fan messes with his voice. Although summer isn't always about having fun and playing with his mom's fan and going swimming at the pool. He keeps his ears perked as he waits for a special kind of song to start making its rounds around the block.

And sure enough, the musical notes of a familiar tune rings throughout the neighborhood, and Jasper is already making a mad dash to his mom for some sweet, sweet cash.

"Mom!" He waves his hands back and forth to get her attention. "Mom, the ice cream truck!"

His mom smiles, having already heard the tune and pulling her wallet out of her purse. "Alright, hold on." A few dollars bills are handed over as Jasper grabs them eagerly.

"Rad!"

"But only buy one, okay? Dinner's coming up soon."

"Okay!" He dashes out the door just in time to see the ice cream turn the corner onto his street. "Hey!" He waves his hand in the air, flagging down the ice cream truck as it continues past his house. It slows to a stop as he chases after it when he notices another kid peek his head out.

Red hair.

Green eyes.

And the scariest frown he's seen.

He smiles as he waves at his neighbor.

"Hi, Davey!"

"Don't call me that!" David yells as he slams his front door shut, disappearing back into his house.

"Jeepers, man." Normally, all the other kids would feel put out by having their neighbor slam a door shut at them, but Jasper was used to it. It was pretty rude yeah, but as long as Jasper kept his distance, David wouldn't start throwing rocks at him! It's a good thing Jasper is a quick learner, otherwise there would have been a lot more rocks in his future.

"Hey, kid." A man with a scraggly looking face rolls down the window. The ice cream man! "You wanted somethin'?"

"Sure do, mister!" Jasper looks over the ice cream choices on the side of the truck. There were ice cream sandwiches, drumsticks, those push pop thingies, the faces with bubblegum eyes, that frozen lemonade stuff in a cup that tastes okay he supposes, and- "One bomb pop! Please!"

"Sure, which flavor?"

"The one that looks like a rocket!"

"Red, white, and blue, comin' up." Jasper waits patiently as the ice cream man disappears for a minute before reappearing with the cold treat. "Here ya go. One American ice cream."

"Is it really called that?"

"Nah. That's a dollar." Jasper hands over the dollar and grabs the frosty treat from the man as he sits on the sidewalk. As he unwraps the popsicle, the ice cream man grunts in surprise.

"You want somethin' too?" Jasper looks up and sees David standing not too far from him. He's biting his lip, fists buried deep in his pockets as he glares at the ice cream on the truck. "Gotta pay up, kid."

"...Not if I take it first!" Jasper watches as David runs and leaps at the truck's window, grabbing onto the ledge as the ice cream man looks unimpressed.

"Nice try, kid." He flicks off every single one of his tiny fingers, making David land on the ground with a soft "oof!". "Maybe come back with a dollar, and I'll give ya what your bratty heart so desires."

"Whatever!" David stands up quickly and stomps his foot. "Ice cream is for squares anyways!" As the ginger stomps off, Jasper wonders how many times David's tried to pull that off. He gets up and walks back to the truck.

"Hey, mister?"

"Whatcha want, kid?" The ice cream man eyes him from the window. "You better eat that quick 'fore the sun melts it."

"Oh I will! It's just, um," he digs around in his pocket and pulls out another dollar, "can I have another one?"

The ice cream man takes it slowly, looking between Jasper and a door that slams shut yet again.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Technically, Jasper wasn't breaking any rules. He grins up at the man brightly. "Umm, can I have..."

Actually, which one WOULD he like? It's not like Jasper knows enough about David to make a good guess. All he knows is that David is grumpy, hates people, sasses adults, and is an overall menace to everyone around him.

But he's also seen David out in the rain, with no umbrella or raincoat to speak of, just picking worms off the sidewalk and tossing them into the grass. He's seen David yell at bullies, aim only for the legs in dodgeball, and even sit next to a crying kid silently just so he wouldn't be alone.

Jasper points at the vanilla bar with the hard outside.

"Can I have that one?"

"Sure, kid." The ice cream man disappears and comes back with the wrapped treat, but he looks hesitant to give it to him. "Are ya sure...?"

"Totally man! My mom says that if I treat people the way I wanna be treated, I can make friends way faster like that!"

"That's one way to do it, I guess." The ice cream man shrugs as he hands over the treat. "Better give it to him before it melts then."

"Will do! Thanks, mister!"

The ice cream man waves as Jasper runs to David's house, sticking his melting popsicle in his mouth as he knocks on the door. The door creaks open slowly, a single green eye peeking out suspiciously before he spies Jasper standing on his doorstep. Jasper pops his popsicle out and grins.

"Heya, broski!"

"Oh, it's you." Ouch. "What do you want?" Jasper waves the wrapped treat in front of David.

"I did something totally wack and got an extra by accident! And I'm only supposed to have one ice cream before dinner or else my mom will totally wig out, so I thought maybe you'd like it?" David stares at the ice cream with a suspicious squint.

"...Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you're the only kid I know in this neighborhood!"

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe I know a few other kids, but you were closer!"

"What's the catch?" David glares at Jasper, holding onto his door tight. "I take the ice cream and then what? I gotta give you my allowance? Beat the snot outta someone? Be your friend because you're a weird loner?"

Well, Jasper's not exactly a loner, but he wouldn't mind being friends with David if he'd just stop being mean for a second.

"It's just ice cream, dude. Take it or leave it."

David swipes the bar from his hand and slams the door in Jasper's face.

"Nice!" The ice cream man calls, laughing as Jasper walks away with a huff.

Well.

At least he took the dang thing.

////

The ice cream truck comes again, and this time, the man grins as Jasper points at an ice cream sandwich.

"Gonna get a second one too while you're at it?" He points to a door cracking open, and a familiar tuft of red hair peeking out.

"...I dunno, maybe." Last time didn't work out so hot. Maybe David just doesn't want friends. Maybe he's the loner.

And Jasper's fine with that. It's not like he has to be friends with David anyways.

"Who knows, kid? Maybe he's like a stray cat. Gotta be nice to 'im and bait 'im 'til he comes out."

"You just want my mom's money."

"Absolutely, now are you gonna buy another one or not?"

"I said I dunno." Jasper huffs as he waits for the ice cream man to give him his sandwich. As he takes it, he hears the door shut and he turns to find David no longer hiding by his door.

"Looks like the runt went back into hiding." The ice cream man hums to himself as Jasper unwraps his treat and starts to munch away. A bright look comes across the man's face as he ducks into his truck as Jasper watches curiously. When the ice cream man resurfaces from his searching, a yellowish cup is held in his hand as he shoves it at Jasper's face. "Here, kid."

Jasper scrunches up his face.

"I don't want it."

"Nah, kid, it's free."

"I still don't want it."

"Look, I got a whole bunch of these laying around 'cause kids don't want 'em as much as the other stuff I got. So why not throw it at that kid's face so you're not wasting your ma's money and I'm gettin' rida stock I don't need?"

"I don't want him to hate me more than he already does!"

"Can't get any lower than rock bottom, kid."

Oh, he'd beg to differ.

But the ice cream man tosses him what was essentially frozen lemonade, but not like, the good lemonade, but the lemonade that was just pure lemon juice with some water, maybe even too much water, mixed in, and then they put it in the freezer, and then put that ice block into a blender, turned it on high, and poured the goop into a cup to be sold to children who actually knew what good lemonade tasted like.

And this was not good lemonade.

Jasper barely manages to catch it as it smacks into his chest.

"Good luck, kid!" The ice cream man salutes him before rushing off into the driver's seat to drive away.

"But I said I didn't want it!" Fruitlessly, he yells at the disappearing ice cream truck, groaning loudly as he clutches this awful excuse for a lemony treat. What was he supposed to do with it?

...

Well, he could actually give it to David.

Maybe he was into this sort of stuff.

Frozen, bad lemonade. That was kind of like shaved ice, but not really. The outside of the cup sweats in his hand, reminding him of the hot temperature.

Maybe he wouldn't care? Maybe he'll take it because it's so hot out and use it as a, like, ice pack or something.

His feet are already walking him to David's door, and after cramming the ice cream sandwich in his mouth, he once again knocks on the door, but with less enthusiasm this time. David opens the door, but he looks only a little surprised.

"What do you want, Jasper?"

Oh, he knows his name?

"Uh, here." His words are muffled around the sandwich, but David takes the cup regardless.

And scrunches up his face when he sees it.

"Ugh! I don't want this!"

"Me neither!"

"It sucks!"

"I know!"

David blinks, as if registering that Jasper was actually agreeing with him.

"So why are you giving this to me?" Jasper swallows a bite of his sandwich and shrugs.

"I dunno, maybe you can like, use it as an ice pack?"

"Pfft." David snorts, which makes Jasper perk up a bit. "As if. This thing'll only last for a few minutes."

"What are you gonna do then?" Jasper watches as David wipes the sweat from his brow, frowning as he stares down at the cup.

And sighs dramatically.

"Guess I'll eat the dang thing."

"...You sure?"

"Well it's not like I have a choice." Jasper expects more bite to his words, but the ginger merely says it with a tired reluctance he doesn't expect. "Thanks, though."

"Oh uh, sure, duderino." He expects David to slam the door in his face but the boy just... keeps it open. "Guess I'll see you around?"

"Whatever." David shrugs as he pops the lid open. "See ya."

He walks away from David's house and doesn't hear the door close. When he makes it to his own house, he looks over to where David's house is and sees the boy sitting there. Quietly eating his treat in the open doorway.

And Jasper swears.

He's eating it with a smile.

////

When Jasper approaches the familiar ice cream truck, he can hear two voices yelling at each other near the truck's window.

"You tellin' me this is all two dollars?!"

"I said count 'em, you gigantic square!"

"Uhh...?" Jasper walks up to find David gripping the edge of the window from where he hangs with a snarl. The ice cream man glares back down at David as he holds a fist full of coins. Oh.

"It's two dollars!"

"Quit jerkin' my chain! As if I'd believe you!"

"Can I count?" The two of them turn their heads to Jasper as he sheepishly rubs his arm. "I mean, if I count them in front of you, it'd save you the trouble and prove Dave- David's telling the truth." The ice cream man rolls his eyes but hands the change over to Jasper regardless. And so the brunette carefully sorts out the assortment of change, and holy cow, he can see why the ice cream man was angry at first. It's a big mess of nickels and pennies and dimes, with maybe one quarter in the mix, but he counts out the change dutifully, carefully, and out loud so that the ice cream man can see his work.

"...and two dollars." He gathers up the change and holds it up to the ice cream man. "David was telling the truth."

"I told you, you big doofus."

"Watch it, kid, or else I'm taking your money and drivin' away."

"That's stealing!"

"As if you haven't tried stealin' from me before." But the ice cream man disappears and comes back with two drumsticks. "Here, your ice cream."

"Yessss!" David takes them both, before turning to Jasper and handing him a stick.

"...Huh?"

"Here." He shoves it into Jasper's hand and looks away. "For the other times you got me ice cream."

"Oh! You didn't have to-"

"Later, nerd!" David runs off and into his house, slamming the door shut as he leaves Jasper in the dust.

"...Are you two friends now?"

"Uhh." Jasper looks down at the drumstick in his hand. It's the usual kind - vanilla, coated with chocolate and nuts. He unwraps it and gnaws on the outer shell.

Sweet.

"...Maybe."

"Huh." The ice cream man sounds amused as he reclines against his window. "That was quick."

////

It becomes a routine.

Everyday, the ice cream man comes. Sometimes it'll be Jasper who meets him first. And sometimes it's David.

But there's an unspoken rule between them.

They have to wait until the other shows up before leaving.

It's like a meeting place, but with a guy who brings the meeting place to them.

Normally, they just buy the ice cream and part ways back to their houses.

But sometimes...

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"What?"

Jasper and David sit on the curb, the ice cream man already driving away as they eat. It's too hot to stay indoors, so they find themselves having a rare moment outside in the sun. Jasper wouldn't mind staying quiet, if only for the fact that David bites down on the bomb pop like it's candy and crunching away at it in his mouth.

Just watching him eat it makes Jasper's teeth ache.

"Biting down on it!"

"No it doesn't." David chomps down on it again, making Jasper cringe.

"My mom says that biting ice cream like that can hurt your teeth."

David snorts.

"You're just a chicken."

"Am not!"

"Then do it, chicken."

Jasper looks at his own popsicle. He doesn't want to hurt his teeth, but he also doesn't want to be called a chicken. David grins slyly as he nudges Jasper.

"Chiiiickeeeeen," he goads.

"I'm not a chicken!" Without a second thought, Jasper bites down on his popsicle and crunches down on the block of flavored ice. It feels as though the ice is freezing his teeth all the way down to his gums, and it sort of hurts, and sort of doesn't.

It's still not pleasant though, so he chews through it quickly.

"See?" David nudges him again with a lighter grin as he goes back to polishing off the popsicle. "It's not that bad."

"Ugh." He determines not to do that again. "I think I'll pass on eating popsicles like that ever again."

David snickers but doesn't push him. Instead, they both kick at the asphalt beneath their feet and take in the rays.

////

Summer comes, and summer goes. They go back to school, pretend they don't know each other asides from a neighborly nod, before continuing on with their lives.

But when summer returns, they find themselves meeting up back at the ice cream truck.

"Wanna try these ones?!" Jasper excitedly points at the pastel-looking ice cream bars on the truck.

"Are you getting it only for the colors?"

"Why not!"

"That's dumb. You're dumb."

"You just don't wanna admit you wanna try the cotton candy one." Jasper teases the ginger as David rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. I'll just take the watermelon one."

"Well, I'm taking the cotton candy one, 'cause I'm not a chicken."

"You take that back."

"Are you kids gonna pay or what?"

"Here you go, mister!" As the ice cream man hands them their treats, the two of them sit back on the curb, kicking at the asphalt as they get used to each other yet again.

"You think his menu ever changes?"

"Nah, he seems too lazy to do that."

"But what if something new comes out? Like a tubular kind of ice cream."

"He already has a tube-y ice cream."

"No, like tubular! Like wicked? Gnarly?"

"...I hate you so much. Just speak like a human!"

"But I am??" David yells as Jasper laughs. "Take a chill pill, man! It's how everyone speaks nowadays!"

"That's a lie. A big, dumb lie that only a square would make."

"Calling people a square is sooo outdated, Davey." The nickname slips out before Jasper can stop himself, and he slaps his hand over his mouth in shock. "Oh, no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

And he blinks.

"...Huh?"

"I said it's fine." David kicks at the asphalt, keeping his eyes away from Jasper's as he bites into his ice cream. "...I'm okay with you calling me 'Davey'."

"Are. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." David shrugs before turning to face Jasper. He looks uncertain, nervous even as he twirls the melting treating between his fingers. "I mean, we're friends, right?"

And he blinks again.

Mouth slightly agape.

He must have taken too long to respond because suddenly David's ears are bright red as he stands up abruptly. "Wh-whatever! If we're not friends, just say it-!"

"We are!" Jasper stands up just as quickly, a giddy grin making it onto his face as he makes to hug David, only to remember the sticky ice cream in their hands. "We're friends!"

It's David's turn to blink as he registers the words Jasper says. And then.

He smiles.

A real, genuine smile.

"...Cool!"

And when summer inevitably ends, he hopes he'll get more than a nod from David as they pass each other in the halls.

////

Summers come, and summers go. As they pass each other in the halls, Jasper goes for a high-five that David avoids, only to punch Jasper (lightly) in the arm later.

They sit next to each other at lunch, Jasper sharing his snacks with David as the latter pours over Jasper's homework as Jasper explains each problem to him.

They become an odd pair, the two of them. David's bristly exterior is immediately softened when Jasper is nearby, and Jasper's mood lightens considerably no matter the problem he has to face as long as David is there with him.

People often ask him if he hopes to make David a more cheery person by sticking with him. After all, Jasper is all smiles and bright colors. But Jasper just shrugs, saying he likes David the way he is.

If David changes, then he'll still like him.

Because David is David.

Just like how Jasper is Jasper.

Some things about them will change, Jasper knows that's inevitable. Habits change, opinions change, outlooks change.

But some routines never change.

They're fourteen as they wait for the ice cream truck together, sitting on Jasper's front lawn as the cool grass stains their shorts.

"Aren't we too old for ice cream trucks?" David is lying down besides Jasper, his eyes closed as Jasper drops torn up grass onto his face. Jasper giggles as David swats halfheartedly at his hand.

"Nah."

"We could be doing something else. Like playing games. Or eating ice."

"Only you would eat ice."

"Yeah well, maybe if you didn't think your teeth were so fragile-"

Jasper rolls David over, the other boy squeaking indignantly as his words are muffled by the dirt and grass.

"UGH! JASP-" And then a familiar jingle rounds the corner.

"Oh it's Mr. Kevin!" Jasper bounces to his feet and dashes away to meet the familiar driver. "What's up-!"

David comes up from behind Jasper and grabs him in a headlock, already yelling at the amused man as he pulls out a few bills.

"HE WANTS THE LEMON ICE!"

"HEY-"

"Whatever my loyal customers want."

"HEY-"

////

A few more summers come and go. Puberty is wack. High school is wack. Preparing for college is super bogus wack. But David isn't wack.

If time could stop for just a moment, just so Jasper could have more seconds in the day to relish those moments of happiness that escape them more often than not, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't feel as though everything was falling through his fingers so quickly.

Things change too quickly.

Times change too quickly.

Even old routines, that one routine he'd grown to depend on every summer.

That began to change too.

As the two of them wait for the ice cream man, a man who has slowly begun to fade from their lives as the times change, Jasper finds himself clutching desperately to the past as his feet tap nervously against the grass. He can feel David's eyes on him, watching as his best friend slowly unravels before him. With a sigh, David leans against him, forcing Jasper to a halt as he forces the teen to lay down in the grass.

Up above them, the clouds roll by peacefully, completely unbothered and untethered to any sorts of worries.

"...You think he's gonna come by?"

"I don't think he's got enough customers to justify it, Jasp."

"...Bummer."

"Hm."

They continue to watch the clouds for a while, Jasper's disappointment settling on his face as he wonders if he took his childhood for granted yet again. A finger prods his cheek, and he turns to see David's green eyes. Calm. Relaxed, even. He's mellowed out throughout the years, but he still wears a frown most days. He's grown up a lot since he was that mean, bratty kid next door.

"You want ice cream that bad?"

"It's not that." Jasper bites his lip. He's kind of embarrassed actually, wanting to stick to this routine for so long. David's probably long since gotten tired of waiting for the ice cream truck, especially during these recent years as the man showed up less and less. But he never complains or goes against Jasper's wants, and instead plays along patiently as Jasper continues to cling.

"Then what is it?"

Is it hard to explain? Or is it just embarrassing to say? He looks over to David, and there's understanding in his eyes as he props himself up, waiting for Jasper to choose his words without any rush.

How lucky was he to keep a friend like David for so long?

"We stuck together because of the ice cream truck." David's eyes widen as the words sink in. Jasper laughs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he looks away. "I dunno it just- I'm probably just tripping over this for no reason, dude, sorry-"

"It's important to you." Jasper feels David lean against him as he thinks out loud. "I don't think it's wrong that you're upset about it."

"...But it's a dumb thing to cling to."

"Not really. We became friends because we kept buying ice cream together. I think that's pretty meaningful." David rests his chin on Jasper's shoulder as they continue to sit, waiting for nothing to arrive.

"Is it bad that I miss it?"

"Nah."

The breeze ruffles their hair.

"...What do you think Kevin is up to?"

"Probably selling drugs."

"Davey!"

"What?" The ginger laughs, puffs of warm brushing against Jasper's neck as he gradually calms down. "I'm right."

"You don't know that."

"Maybe."

Jasper closes his eyes. It's hot out, but he doesn't mind David sticking so close by. It's comforting, actually, feeling his warmth like this. Like, no matter what, even if the ice cream truck doesn't come by anymore, David doesn't really need a reason to just come by and sit next to Jasper and do nothing together.

At least that won't change.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Let's do something next year."

"Like what?"

"Something new." David turns his attention back to the sky and reaches out towards it. He tries to grab a cloud, but it floats away from his hand. "I've always wanted to go camping."

"But we don't know anything about camping."

"We can practice." David pulls back just enough to look Jasper in the eye, bright eyed at the prospect. "We got a whole year to prepare, and we'll be graduating soon anyways. Why not do something special for that summer?"

No more ice cream trucks. No more sitting around. But something new to fill in the void.

It couldn't hurt, right?

"Yeah." He smiles as David returns with his own grin. "Let's try that out."

\\\\

Summers come as they are wont to do. And they leave as they tend to do. The ice cream truck never comes back.

But that's okay.

David brightens up significantly as they begin camping, and Jasper wonders if he'd been holding his friend back for so long, making him wait for trucks to come when it was clear they needed to move on.

And yet.

He stood by him the entire time, waiting until Jasper was ready to let go.

An unspoken trust. With unwavering understanding.

Camping is alright, he supposes, but David loves how the trees surround them, how the birds sing above them, the way they come across streams and rivers as though they were new discoveries.

Camping is alright. But David's happiness is worth so much more.

"Jasp!" David pulls him along to the nearby clearing, their campfire crackling softly as he points up to the sky. "You don't get to see stars like this often!"

"...Yeah." He watches as David stares up at the night sky, so unlike the boy he grew up with. It's a side of him he's rarely seen before.

And he thinks that it's a shame that they never got to explore this side of him sooner.

Wouldn't that have made David happier?

David turns to Jasper, head tilted to the side as he catches his friend staring.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh, nothing." He looks away with a blush, scratching at his cheek as he looks for something to distract David with. "Oh yeah, we should make sure the campfire doesn't burn down anything, right?"

"Oh- yeah!" David rushes back, already worried as Jasper laughs.

This.

This is different.

But it's a good kind of different.

"Hey."

"Huh?" David looks up from where he sits by the fire, watching as Jasper plops down besides him.

"Why do you like camping so much?"

"...I dunno it just." He shrugs, smiling wistfully as he watches the fire. "I mean, I used to camp a lot with my dad. Before he left."

Ah, right.

"Wouldn't you hate camping then?"

"I mean, I did. For a long time, I did." David laughs, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he talks. "But then, you became my friend. And we grew closer and. I just wanted to do something with you. Something that we could claim as our own. Sure, there was that whole ice cream thing but. That could only last for so long, and when it ran its course, I saw how you were struggling to just. Wrap your mind around losing something that was so us. And I wanted to do something. Make a new something. And. Camping was the only thing I could think of." He shrugs as he turns to face Jasper, the brunette wide eyed as the ginger grins. "It just felt... right, you know?"

"...God." Jasper shakes his head, laughing as he does so. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"Only because you stuck by long enough for me to be amazing." David nudges his shoulder playfully. "...Hey."

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For actually, um. Being my friend." David looks down as he speaks. "It couldn't have been easy."

"...Nah, thanks for letting me stick to that ice cream schtick for so long." Jasper bonks his head gently against David's. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It's whatever." David bonks back with a smile. "I mean, as long as I got to spend time with you, it was worth it."

...Yeah.

It was, wasn't it?

He smiles as their fingers brush together.

Yeah, maybe camping was just alright. If it'd been with anyone else, he'd be pretty indifferent and distant throughout the whole affair.

But.

With David?

Like when they were waiting for the ice cream truck together, the sun beaming down above them, feet kicking playfully at asphalt as they listened to the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance.

Sitting here, by an open fire, underneath the stars and listening to the songs of the crickets and the hoots of the owls.

Just like then.

Just. Existing next to each other.

It just.

Feels.

Right.

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grouchomarxiste-blog1 · 4 years

Text

Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite: Marx and Violence

Warning: A majority of this was written pre-pandemic, so please excuse my overly optimistic tone. It was a different time.

Yes, another Bong Joon-Ho film. Can you blame me? The guy’s a genius. Parasite was another one of those great films that will never leave you. You can watch the movie simply without doing a major analysis in your head and you will still agree that it’s a great movie. Which personally, is why I believe it's made its way into the major American awards season. Parasite winning Best Foreign Film at the Golden Globes was one of the few decisions I’ve agreed with. I didn’t see any of the winners in the film categories besides Parasite, and I’m very much ok with that. It’s making its way into Hollywood and the favorite lists of celebrities. Elon Musk said he loved Parasite (he also turned Grimes, the former “anti-imperialist,” to the mother of his future child). Chrissy Teigen loved Parasite (a lot can be said about her, so let’s not). Obama loved Parasite (but I have some serious doubts about the authenticity of his yearly favorites list. Mainly because I can’t imagine him listening to Summer Walker). I was completely boggled at all of those tweets. How? How is one so blind? How did one watch Parasite and not feel a thing? After I watched Parasite, I rushed back to school to attend the discussion section of my Political Theory class so I could read and discuss primitive accumulation through dispossession with revolutionary fervor. I recommended it to everyone near me. I even wrote a note to my professor who tucked it into his book. But is that the problem- that all these beloved figures (not mine) end up loving the sheer adrenaline of the story and tweet to their followers about how great the movie is. Those followers, with their favorite celebrities’ seal of approval, watch the movie, not putting it together either. Bong Joon-Ho is critiquing those very figures! In every post-Parasite interview, Bong Joon-Ho has said that Parasite is about America and capitalism, but we have just reduced those statements to memes on Twitter. As funny as they are, Parasite is rich for its class analysis. The Hollywood reaction is just as important. Marx is all over this movie, there's no question about it. I also want us to understand these controversial moments from a Fanonian perspective, again all with relation to Marx. I hope for us to understand that everything about this movie is intentional and every bit of it is worth pages and pages of discussion. I nearing 11 pages as I write this. I also hope that this film can be a way for us to understand economic exploitation in the 21st century. While many celebrities have misunderstood it, it is important that you, us, the people, the working class, grasp every bit of this radical film.

I’m not going to bother with another one of my “brief summary” because I’m assuming, we’ve all seen it. It's on Hulu now and I believe Apple TV. If you don’t want to pay for either platforms, watch a pirated version online, I genuinely don’t think Bong will mind.

I want to talk about the home. I know we all had the same reaction to that beautiful home: awe, admiration, and envy. The Park’s home itself is significant, but also in contrast to the Kims’ home. The Kim’s live in a small semi-basement home, where they have to reach up in order to look out their window and see the street level. Their home is dirty, cramped, just not a place where anyone wants to be. But immediately, I thought of Fanon and the native sector. I know that Parasite isn’t about colonialism, but space is important to Marx (I’ll return to Fanon). In The Communist Manifesto, Marx and Engels attribute many things to the process of proletarianization. To name a few: literacy campaigns and public education, the politicization of the proletariat towards the end of feudalism, expansion of media, etc. One that stands out, is the mass migration and urbanization of the proletariat. Through that, the proletariat was concentrated into the poorest parts of the city where they shared their most intimate quarters with workers like themselves (Marx and Engels, 15) One might dismiss this as a historical example specific to Europe, but if we go back to my thoughts on Memories of Murder, we’d note how Korea’s transition to a modern capitalist society, was a fairly recent one (from 1987 onwards). As the agricultural sector suffered, Koreans living in the rural provinces were forced to move into the major cities. Park (Song Kang-Ho’s character in Memories) was lucky enough to become a successful businessman, unlike the Kims who earn their livelihood by holding pizza boxes- the most insignificant work. Along with urbanization, the proletariat also occupied the small space of the factory, where they are reminded of the everyday brutality of their work. The Park’s home is not cramped, but the one scene where everyone is rushing to hide from them, results in Ki-taek, Ki-jeong, and Ki-woo hiding underneath a coffee table overnight. After that lengthy battle with Geun-sae and Moon-gwang, the Kims are exhausted. They do not want to be laying side by side hearing the Parks have sex. My friend Sef also reminded me that the Parks had weird sex as Mr. Park recalled how their old chauffeur possibly had sex with a drugged-up prostitute, a scenario that previously made Mrs. Park scream out of disgust. Revisiting this, I believe this definitely deserves a psychoanalytic analysis.

This isn’t their breaking point, but also hearing Mr. Park say that Ki-taek smells like the subway is a factor. Once making their break they run outside where it's raining heavily. They come to their home which is flooded and destroyed. Here is where I’ll start talking about Fanon. [READ NOTE]. Again, I know the colonial system is not the case in Parasite. Fanon was a Marxist and expanded on Marxist theory in the colonial context. I just want to warn you that I am using Fanon as carefully as possible, not using concepts that are distinctly racial. I know there’s probably also much more relevant work out there on spatiality and violence, but I think Fanon’s prose style in The Wretched of the Earthis quite appropriate for the film. Let’s consider the colonial bourgeoisie as the Parks and the natives as the Kims. Fanon calls the colonial world, a “compartmentalized world.” The colonists’ sector is clean and protected whereas the native sector is overcrowded, envious, and starving. Sounds about right so far.

The colonist’s sector is a sector built to last, all stone and steel. It’s a sector of lights and paved roads, where the trash cans constantly overflow with strange and wonderful garbage, undreamed-of leftovers. The colonizer’s feet can never be glimpsed, except perhaps in the sea, but then again you can never get close enough. They are protected by solid shoes in a sector where the streets are clean and smooth., without a pothole, without a stone… The colonized’s sector or at least the “native” quarters, the shanty town, the Medina, the reservation, is a disreputable place, inhabited by disreputable people. You are born anywhere, anyhow. You die anywhere, from anything. It’s a world with no space, people are piled one on top of each other. (Fanon, 4)

This becomes extremely relevant when the Kims run out of the Parks’ home in the pouring rain. I kept noticing that they were all barefoot, only focused on getting out of there. My toes curled in the movie theater watching that. Running away from that traumatic house to find your own home destroyed, relocating to a displacement camp, THEN going to work the next day for your unaffected employer who has the audacity to audibly take a sniff of you. I don't know about you, but to me, this sounds like the conditions for a proletarian revolution. Besides the literal allegory, the tone sharply shifts. One could argue that it began to change when they found Geun-sae in the bunker or when Moon-gwang hit her head but that was just some good old dark comedy for me. After the flooding, things are different. Ki-taek has this unmoving face. Things turned grim and we knew something climactic was about to happen. Fanon’s most famous chapter, “Concerning Violence,” maintains that decolonization will always be a violent event because colonialism is a violent system itself. Something that I absolutely love about this chapter is that it isn’t some dense, theoretical work. It’s a revolutionary call to arms for all colonized people. It has a strategic pace which parallels Parasite so well. He sets the scene- the compartmentalized, Manichaen world. He slowly intensifies the antagonistic relationship between the colonizer and the colonized, until this culminating point:

The colonized subject thus discovers that his life, his breathing and his heartbeat are the same as the colonist’s. He discovers that the skin of the colonist is not worth more than the “natives.” In other words, his world receives a fundamental jolt. The colonized’s revolutionary new assurance stems from this. If no longer strike fear into me or nail me to the spot and his voice can no longer petrify me. I am no longer uneasy in his presence. In reality, to hell with him. Not only does his presence no longer bother me, but i am already preparing to waylay him in such a way that he will no longer have any solution but to flee (Fanon, 10)

As corny as it sounds, when I first read that, it brought me to tears. I’m not sure if it was just because I was up for three days straight writing my midterm and I was finally breaking, or because it just meant that much to me. But that section in which the colonized discoversthat his life is worth as much as the colonizer is such a crucial moment. This parallels the infamous birthday scene. Geun-sae gets out of the bunker, stabs Ki-jung, the Park’s kid (I’ll look his name up later) has a seizure, and Chong-sook is wrestling with Geun-sae. Shit is going down. If we recall, Mrs. Park mentioned that it takes a few minutes for her son to die after a seizure and needs to go to the hospital immediately. So much is going on and Mr. Park starts screaming at Ki-taek to give him the keys. Ki-taek is immobilized at this point. His daughter has been stabbed, son attacked, wife almost killed, the Parks’ got him dressed up in some cultural appropriation, Hollywood Indian regalia. In fact, I find it very fitting that he’s dressed up as a Native American at this moment. I see this as Bong’s satirical nod to old ultra-capitalist Hollywood. But if enough wasn't going on, Mr. Park sniffed. He got close to Geun-sae, a man who’s been living underground for 3 years and audibly sniffed him in disgust. The same way that he sniffed Ki-taek. Of course, there’s probably a difference between a “subway” smell vs. “I haven't showered in 3 years” smell but at the moment it feels as if it's almost the same thing. In my initial viewing, I thought what happened next was because of that, but no. Ki-taek realized that his life was worth the same as the Parks, and their presence no longer bothers him, but he is now plotting against him, and the time of action is now. Ki-taek stabs Mr. Park and flees. Annoyingly, the YouTube section for this clip is filled with people feeling bad for the Parks and discussing how what Ki-taek did was wrong. Of course, the average viewer will view the Parks as some sympathetic rich suckers who only treated the Kims kindly. The casual reader who picks up Fanon for the first time would also dismiss his theory of violence as immoral in comparison to non-violent methods like Gandhi’s. A lot can be said about Gandhi, but Fanon says that non-violence is a strategy created by the colonizer to deter decolonization and paint the colonizer as a gentle ruler who wants peace. This is not the case. Colonialism is a violent system. Capitalism is a violent system. Colonialism can only be undone violently. Capitalism can only be undone violently. Now I don't mean to make this all about colonialism, as my friends say I often do. But the similarities are clear. The question isn’t whether the murder of Mr. Park was a justified act, but what were the conditions that forced Ki-taek to murder. Geun-sae killed Ki-jung, but no one in the comment section is having a debate on whether his murder was ethical. Because in our heads we feel bad for him, and the life that he’s lived- why don’t we feel the same towards Ki-taek? Geun-sae and Ki-taek are two sides of the same coin. Geun-sae’s exploitation is naked. He’s confined to the basement, controlling the lights of the home. A feature of the house that Mr. Park doesn't even pay attention to, never mind considering that there is someone manually operating it. A clear example of how our labor is alienated. All while blindly worshipping Mr. Park- a man who knows nothing of his existence. Honestly, I hope some of you see yourselves in Geun-sae the next time you defend billionaires online. But Ki-taek is just another exploited worker. I understand this can be hard to understand in our current understanding of the world. How is Ki-taek exploited? Him and his family conned their way into their jobs and leech off of the Parks. Again, we must return to the system as a whole to understand. None of this wouldn’t have happened if the Kims weren’t desperately poor in a capitalist society, which enables families like the Parks, to live a life of excess at the expense of the Kims. Capitalism is a system of exploitation; we cannot forget that. Quite simply, no one is rich without thousands that are poor.

The levels of the home are also this unforgettable feature. I just want to make this quick note about the issue of the ghost. Did you forget about the ghost? Da-Song didn’t (yes, I finally looked his name up!). I find the story of the ghost such an interesting touch. Not just as a way for Bong to warn the audience about Da-Song’s history of seizures. When Mrs. Park tells Chung-sook of the story, she says “they say a ghost in the house brings wealth.” This, of course, is true since the exploitation of those like Geun-sae are responsible for the wealth of the Parks, in the larger picture. I’d like to look further into this. There's a twofold meaning to this. I do believe that this ghost is symbolic to the exploitation of the Kims, and the proletariat in general, but that’s Mrs. Park’s understanding of this ghost. The way she understands this ghost, is as a source of wealth. Maybe Mrs. Park isn’t as ditzy as we imagine- she to some degree, understands her class position. But like most, she doesn’t question the ghost, or her class position. She knows that if she looks into either, it would result in the ugly truth. Da-Song, however, is just a child. He’s too young to really understand the economic and social relations which are responsible for his wealth. He’s also too young to consciously suppress any desire to investigate the matter like his mother. He is a child after all and is naturally curious. But his first encounter with the ghost was the one that resulted in a near fatal seizure. This can be his body’s reaction to the life-threatening figure of a ghost. The ghost isn’t just a threat to his mortal life, but his wealth, some may argue that these are the same. Mrs. Park pays for therapy for his “trauma” so he could forget the event, but he still knows. He saw this ghost and is the only one to seriously consider its threat. Mrs. Park knows it's real but chooses to not think about it. I want to return to the Manifesto. Let's hear these famous words: “A specter is haunting Europe- the specter of communism… Two things result from this fact: Communism is already acknowledged by all European powers itself to be a power...” (Marx and Engels, 8). Don’t think I’m just including this because he’s talking about a specter, in fact, I think this story of the ghost is an intentional allusion to the specter of communism. Da-Song represents this figure of the bourgeoisie who is in constant anxiety over the threat of his wealth. When he reappears at his birthday party, he has another seizure. Also, at this time, the family, and all of their guests are witness to the horrors of their wealth and what it's created. This naked, hideous display, this moment of confrontation is a pivotal point in the dialectic. Of course, this murderous moment is not seen as a success to the viewer with Mr. Park, Ki-jung, and Geun-sae dead, Ki-woo presumed to be dead, and Ki-taek missing. This just shows us that the bourgeoisie are their own gravediggers- to again invoke the Manifesto. On a larger scale, this would be the moment of a revolution- but we don’t. Ki-woo survives with Chung-sook and is put on probation. Ki-taek is missing to the police, but Ki-taek realizes that he’s living in the bunker in hiding. Ki-woo declares that he will make enough money to buy the home and free his father. At first, I wondered “why couldn't he just sneak him out of the house when the new owners were asleep?” “Why did he have to buy the home?” As much as I wanted to portray the Kims to be revolutionary figures, Ki-woo has the common fate of most. Instead of usurping power from the bourgeoisie, he believes he can free his dad from the home, by owning the house. Everyone who lives in the basement is stuck there for a reason, because someone is forcing them to stay there. A perfect allegory for the relations of production as I have repeatedly mentioned throughout this text. Ki-woo desires a bourgeois life (as most working-class folk do!) in order to lift his father out of the despair of poverty. He believes the only way he can save his father is to own the home, which could easily be seen as the means of production. A nice touch which I had to look up, was as Ki-woo tells us of his desire to buy the home, a song plays called “546 years”- the amount of time it will take for him to earn enough money. I wish this song title was more obvious for the American viewer. I am not trying to take away from this film by saying that, but for a viewer who knows Korean or the song title, they’ll understand the tragic nature of his dreams. Whereas the American viewers will sympathize with his dreams- as we’ve done with immigrants and “the American Dream” or the bootstrapping mentality of some people. In some way I do think Bong didn’t want an overtly revolutionary ending. I don’t think the average viewer, especially in this day, could handle an ending like that. Not to say that we don't understand class inequality and such. We are not living in, say the 60s/70s where there were Marxist movements all throughout the world. I don’t think we have the conditions for a revolution at this moment, although I do think the mass unemployment and the other severe economic consequences of this virus will radicalize the working class in large numbers, to a degree that we haven't seen in a long time. But to make my point, I feel that we are living in historic political times and we are coming to understand ourselves in a liberating way. It is my hope that films like Parasite will awaken the revolutionary potential in us all.

Note: I wanted to use Fanon’s theory of violence and diagnosis of colonialism as a violent structure, in relation to capitalist society. I don’t want us to interpret his writings as something that can be isolated from the racial structure of colonialism, but i do think it is a beneficial guide to understanding this film.

Work Cited:

Philcox, Richard, translator. “On Violence.” The Wretched of the Earth, by Frantz Fanon, Grove Press, 2004.

Joon-Ho, Bong, director. Parasite. Barunson E&A, 2019.

Marx, Karl, and Frederick Engels. The Communist Manifesto. International Publishers, 1948.

3 notes · View notes

i-growl-growl-growl · 5 years

Note

OK! So, could you do yandere NCT's (or just Dreamies if you don't want to do the whole group) reaction to their s/o caving in to them? Like their s/o will still flinch from time to time but will do what they say without being as frightened/hesitate anymore? Hopefully, that made sense!

Hell yes! Since I don’t see that many requests for NCT DREAM, I will make this post their reactions and a little it’s really long sorry scenario to spice things up a bit and to further explain their thoughts. For the scenarios, it was mainly NCT DREAM caving into their s/o and becoming more loving/trusting with them. If you also want the other members, don’t hesitate to request for more (if the reactions box is open)!

It is quite long so I put a ‘keep reading’ button. I believe it shows up on desktop, but I’m not sure about mobile.

- Celeste

Mark

mark is and will always be a dreamie, fight me

It was never easy for you to adjust to the new, restrained lifestyle with your so-called “boyfriend” when you moved in together. Mark, while sweet and endearing on the outside, had proven to be extremely difficult to like after what he had done to you.

Your job? Forgotten. Your family? Haven’t contacted them in months. Your home? Anywhere Mark went was now your little residence. Speaking of which, the clock in your cozy living room was about to strike 6 at the dot. Mark got off of work at six but it always took him quite a while to drive to your shared apartment since he worked over an hour away.

There was still a solid hour, if not, even more time until you had to face your apparent lover. You were terribly upset at how your perfect life fell apart in just a few months. Mark had told you about the rules he set for you about a week after the move together and the feeling of uncertainty wouldn’t leave your mind. Eventually, your gut was right and you were indeed stuck here, literally.

However, if you were being completely honest, you were surprised with how easy-going Mark was when you started to follow his silly rules and when you showed tiny bits of affection sprinkled in here and there. And if you were being really honest, you were starting to like it. Of course, not the fact that you couldn’t go outside at all without Mark by your side, holding your hand the entire time. But the little grin Mark would show you when you asked him how his day was.

Lost in thought, the hour went by quickly and you snapped out of it when you heard the doorknob turn and the keys jangle. A familiar sound, but why were you wanting to walk up and just give Mark a big bear hug? When was the last time the two of you properly kissed? Those memories felt like ages ago, and unfortunately, they indeed were.

Mark walked in the apartment and noticed you standing near the doorway, just staring back at him. He lifted up the plastic bag in his hand and smiled, “I brought take-out!”

He expected you to ignore him and grab the bag in a hurry, which was understandable. Mark may be a tad bit crazy for you but he knew he wasn’t normal, unlike most yanderes. But when he saw you hesitantly take the bag, he knew something was up.

When you gently grasped the bag, you looked up at him and gave him a shy kiss. His face turned bright red and he wanted to crawl up in a ball and die. In a good way.

Deep inside, Mark would do a victory dance and he’d be screaming cries of joy. He never thought that you would forgive him for taking away your freedom. But maybe, just maybe, you had it in you to love him again the way you did before.

Renjun

He was the town’s bad boy. With his hair slicked back with huge amounts of hair gel, he reminded everyone of an American 1960′s greaser. He was always seen with a baseball bat in one hand and a skateboard in another, Renjun had made quite a name for himself, especially at school. But what truly made him the baddest of them all, was that he had you by his side.

You…were honestly not really anyone significant like Renjun, your boyfriend. You weren’t a nerd, a geek, a cheerleader, a popular girl. You were just…a nobody. Of course, people liked you for the most part, it wasn’t like you were lonely.

Okay, maybe that last part was a lie. But Renjun was special. He had learned to look past what others said about you and was kind enough to approach you and asked you out on a date to a local diner. He seemed friendly enough so you would probably take care of you like those cliche movies where there was a bad boy and a good girl in which the boy would be cold to everyone else but the girl and love her to death.

Right? Wrong. He did quite literally, love you to death. So much that when a pervert catcalled you out on the streets, Renjun grabbed his switchblade and told you to close your eyes. Let’s just say that the man would never be able to catcall you again. Or speak for that matter.

But it was overwhelming for you to have to balance a part-time job to support your family, school, and your possessive boyfriend all at once. Especially since only God knew how many people Renjun probably killed to “protect” you, even if it wasn’t needed. So when you tried to distance yourself away from Renjun, he was furious.

The farther you went and the longer you left him, the more protective Renjun would be. The once soft and gentle touches became bruising and painful grips that left red marks on your wrist.

You stopped. Unlike those helpless girls on television and in the books, you knew that you had to be independent and break away from this toxic relationship. But who said you could get away so easily? Renjun lost his cool and told you right then and there when you confessed to him that you wanted to break up that he didn’t kill 12 people for nothing.

In the end, you stayed. Not like you had a choice anyway. Renjun threatened to put your family’s life in danger and you knew better than to mess with him. However, your relationship completely fell apart after that fight and the two of you were never the same around each other.

So imagine the shock on Renjun’s face when you agreed to finally go on a date with him to the diner where he had asked you out months earlier. And even more so, the fact that you even dressed up nicely for him was another wonderful surprise for him. Perhaps you had forgiven his immaturity in the past and wanted to continue to love him?

It was a lot to hope for, but when you reached out with a napkin to wipe the leftover milkshake on Renjun’s lips, he felt his heart flutter once again. A boy can dream, can’t he? And his dream was for the two of you to fall in love all over again.

Jeno

You met him at the summer camp you had volunteered at as a counselor. Lee Jeno, the very name that defined perfection to you. He was a shy and quiet boy, but man, the moment he introduced himself in that circle of campers, his arms glimmered in the bright lighting and you fell in love.

That was a year and a half ago. To save time about your sappy love story, Jeno finally gathered the guts and the courage to confess his little crush on you and you, being the stupid fool you were, accepted. You walked home with him and held his large hand as it turned out he didn’t live too far from you.

But as the days turned to weeks which then turned to months, the cute walks home suddenly became more and more suspicious. Why on earth did Jeno grip onto your wrist so tight? And why wasn’t he trusting you to be mature enough to walk home on your own? His soon-to-be discovered yandere tendencies were suffocating you!

When you saw the camera hiding in the front pocket of your backpack, you had a huge fight with Jeno about invading your privacy. You had had enough of his stalking and simply the fact that he thought he had the authority to snoop around in your personal things.

Your relationship was never the same after the fight. You should’ve broken up a long time ago and ended things there. It was the same thing repeated by your friends and in your own mind. Let him go!

So when Valentine’s Day rolled around, Jeno wasn’t at all expecting you to give him a card and a hug. The card was store-bought (you were still a bit upset!) and while to normal couples, this would seem thoughtless and something cruel to only give a quick hug, it meant the world to Jeno.

Jeno was ecstatic to see how you were softening up to him. His little soul would be trying to do whatever he could to get you to break down your walls even more and trust him again. Doing things from taking over your chores, bringing your favorite food and dessert, even giving tiny handwritten notes wherever you go.

But the sad thing is, he still couldn’t drop his yandere personality…

Haechan

When you first fell in love with Haechan, he was belting high notes from the musical Heathers. He was singing a classic, the song Candy Store. It was ironic to you that such a talented singer wasn’t up on the stage performing, but backstage with…the costume crew?

That’s right. Haechan was sewing and mending the costumes side by side with you. He was helping you put on the wigs of the arrogant cast members and completed their makeup as the cast gossiped and complained about everything.

At least you got to know him better. And eventually on the day of the school’s musical’s opening night, he asked you out on a simple date to the nearby ice cream store down the corner. What seemed even better in that moment was when Haechan asked you to be his girlfriend.

When you found out that Haechan was going to go to the same college as you and planned to stay at an apartment a couple blocks away, he had asked you to move in with him. You agreed, unaware of the trap he was planning all along for you.

It was only when Haechan brought you into your shared bedroom and you saw the life-sized cage in the corner did you realize your huge mistake. However, it was too late. Haechan had already turned around and locked you inside the room. Not to mention, the doorknob’s lock opened from the outside. And there you were, trapped and isolated in the cramped, stuffy room, all alone.

The two of you went to a performing arts college; you specializing in stage makeup and costuming while Haechan decided to pursue his dreams to sing and dance. But there was no hope of you ever chasing your dreams to become a professional makeup artist with Haechan ditching you in the cage with a piece of bread and water. You were soon expelled after never showing up for the whole semester, your dreams quickly crushed.

Although you promised yourself to never forgive Haechan, you found yourself slowly trusting him and loving him all over again. Perhaps it was the newfound respect and the kindness he was starting to show you/ Or maybe how caring he was becoming, contrasting to the usual tough persona he used to display before you became his “prisoner.”

Whatever it was, the two of you knew it. And you bet Haechan was giddy with joy when you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He was happy, in fact so elated that he let you out of the cage for the first time in six months and helped you stand on your own two feet.

As you wobbled about, trying to work your leg muscles to cooperate with your mind’s intentions of walking and moving around, relishing in the tiny freedom you were finally given, Haechan smiled to himself. His efforts of trying to be just teeny bit nicer to you weren’t wasted, and he made a mental note to himself to keep going; he absolutely loved making you smile.

Jaemin

Jaemin was brought up in a normal family, with a normal house and a normal school. But when he met you at the student council meeting for the first time, he knew that you absolutely had to be his. His normal life drastically changed, living the wild side of him that no one knew he ever had.

With your elegant movements and your little smile, down to the adorable shoes you were wearing, Jaemin instantly fell in love. He felt awkward and cowardly standing next to you as the two of you stood on the podium in front of the whole school. He was the president of student council and you were by his side, his vice president, guiding the school to attempt to make better decisions in their everyday lives.

His charms eventually won you over and you agreed to be his girlfriend. Jaemin was ecstatic to finally be able to call you his darling. But when he found out that one afternoon as he waited by the cafe you were talking at with some friends on how you truly thought of his yandere personality, he was greatly angered.

He soon came to the false conclusion that your friends and family were influencing your thoughts on your ‘oh so perfect’ relationship. After all, what if they were jealous that Jaemin got to have you all to himself and wanted to take you away from him? The two of you were what the school considered #goals for relationships; the legitimate definition of an Insta-perfect couple! Of course! That was it!

It really wasn’t. When you confessed to Jaemin eight months after he asked you out that you wanted to break up, he immediately picked you up and plopped you into his room. And when I say that, he actually ran three blocks down the busy streets with you clinging for dear life on his back and to his “normal” house.

Things had definitely changed since you admitted that you wanted to leave the relationship. Jaemin stopped showing his usual affection and locked you up in his room, in which he purposely cleaned out to prevent any attempts of escape. Deep inside, he was just insecure and possessive; Jaemin wanted nothing more than to give you a giant bear-hug. He felt so lonely with his mom leaving the family and his dad going on long business trips with no one to care for or love him.

So when he thought you were sleeping and no one could hear him or you in the empty house, he began to cry silently. Just imagine the pure shock on his face when you leaned in and gave him a stiff hug and gently patted his back. While in that moment he’d be comforted, as he looked back later on, Jaemin would be so happy and most of all grateful that you gave him the solace he desperately needed.

Jaemin gradually realized that what he needed was someone to lean on and someone who could handle a fiery spirit like him. Maybe that someone was you. And maybe you were finally willing to give him another chance and love him the way he wanted you to…

Chenle

Unlike the other people at the dinner party, you were the only one who didn’t fit in. Your gawky movements and your posture clearly showed that you weren’t meant for a high-class lifestyle and this kind of sophisticated party. To the normal eye, you seemed to be a wannabe and a person who was unfit to be even breathing the same air of these officials, businessmen, and politicians. Of course, that wasn’t the case for Chenle.

He was simply tired of boring and snobbish folks who didn’t bother to look at the world around them and were trapped in their own bubble. You on the other hand, discreetly paved the way for others and had dignity.

It wasn’t in your walk or the way you looked. In fact, it was the complete opposite. You were well-spoken and despite how out-of-place you seemed at that first dinner party, many were proven wrong by the following parties that you indeed, were a brilliant and capable young lady.

From then on, Chenle felt that he had to be given the heavy responsibility of protecting a treasure like you. Not because you were weak, but such a gem like you would be easily stolen without a guard. Or a couple hundred. And of course, you were sick of how bothersome Chenle was being with the bodyguards. You knew for yourself that while it was thoughtful of him, you barely knew Chenle and could take care of yourself just fine.

You iced Chenle out quickly, much to his dismay. He didn’t understand why you were so upset with him; he was protecting you from the dangers of the world after all! Such a precious girl like you shouldn’t be touched with filthy hands!

Months went on but you soon realized how adorable and sweet Chenle was, despite his possessive demeanor. You finally caved in and walked in with your head held up high and plopped a cup of coffee on Chenle’s desk.

Chenle wasn’t just happy, he was jubilant. He felt a rush of excitement when you set down the burning hot latte and was so glad to see you give into his affections of love. But rather than look deeper into your true feelings for him, Chenle was even more determined to finally call you his. Next mission?

Be your boyfriend.

Jisung

Jisung was the teen next door who loved skateboarding and a great adventure. At least that’s what your friends told you. Not to mention, he looked great all the time with his great sense of style. His Instagram was full of pictures of his skating buddies and him doing mind-blowing tricks.

But you didn’t look at his appearance or how he treated other people. In fact, you hated Jisung’s guts. You wished he could just disappear from the face of the earth. When you expressed this to your own friends though, they laughed it off and continued to gossip about how cute Renjun and his girlfriend were.

You would burn with anger whenever you saw Jisung. However, your only explanation wasn’t considered valid to anybody you tried to talk to. Perhaps it was the innocent good-boy vibe everyone received from him. Or maybe the way his nose would scrunch up when he smiled. Whatever it was that people liked about him, you didn’t.

Your reason were the “love” letters placed in your locker, Jisung professing his undying obsession with you. As much as you loved secret admirers, Jisung was on the full-on creepy level. The not-so-good secret admirer, if you get my drift. Your clothes would occasionally go missing and once you saw your blouse drying on Jisung’s balcony railing. Sometimes you would find photos of you on his Instagram spam account when you weren’t looking. But worst of all, the rumors he would spread that he indeed was your boyfriend and all the boys should stay far away from you.

So it puzzled you when this whole act stopped. Jisung disappeared off the face of the earth like you wanted. To be precise, he was gone for one year, five months, and eight days. You swore to yourself that you weren’t counting.

As you walked into your classroom one morning, you see a familiar face standing by the head teacher, shyly waving at you. Jisung had completely changed. His voice had gotten deeper, his eyes more darker, he definitely grew taller, and his blonde hair fell into soft tufts on his forehead.

And to top it all off, Jisung was nicer! You eventually fell for his new charms and his cute bunny smile with his blue braces lining his teeth. About six months later, you confessed your newfound love for him and he accepted with a grin.

Jisung was happy to see that you were finally warming up to him and caving in. He was even more content to see his hard work of changing his entire persona to fit your ideal guy worked. His plan of making you fall in love with him the same way he did with you was in full swing! But what made the blood rush to his heart and excited him the most…

Was to show the new room he made just for you.

This took a while to make as I needed to gather some more inspiration and I didn’t have that much time this week so I apologize about that. I hope you liked this and have a wonderful day!

- Celeste

#yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct dream #nct yandere #nct yandere scenarios #nct yandere reactions #yandere reactions #kpop yandere #kpop yandere scenarios #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere scenarios #admin celeste

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girlactionfigure · 4 years

Photo

He was drafted into the Army in 1943. His fellow recruits remembered him as "simple, bland, unassuming." He described himself as a "nothing, a nobody." No one, including the young man, knew what life had in store for him.

In the Army, he served as a staff sergeant in the 20th Armored Division. Elements of his division participated in the liberation of Dachau concentration camp - Although his unit was near, they did not actually enter the camp.

Although he was proud of his service, he remembered that time as very painful for him - he not only witnessed the horrors of war, but it was also the same time his mother passed away.

His father, a barber, was born in Germany, and his mother was of Norwegian heritage.

He was born on this day, November 26, 1922 in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Being the only child, he was very shy. His uncle gave him the nickname, "Sparky" after the horse "Spark Plug" from the Barney Google comic strip.

His mother was bedridden during his high school years, and the young man often heard her cries of pain. Her illness was identified as cancer in November 1942, the same month he was drafted. On February 28, 1943, he used a day pass to visit his mother one last time. He got to say goodbye to her that day, but he said, "I'll never get over that scene as long as I live."

He would also regret the fact that his mother would never see what he would become.

After returning from the war in the fall of 1945, he sold his first cartoons to his local newspaper.

"The first Peanuts strip appeared on October 2, 1950, in seven newspapers nationwide. Although being a professional cartoonist was [Charles] Schulz’s life-long dream, at 27-years old, he never could have foreseen the longevity and global impact of his seemingly-simple four-panel creation," according to the Charles M. Schulz Museum.

In the summer of 1968, after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and after corresponding with teacher Harriet Glickman, Schulz made a bold decision, introducing a character named "Franklin" to his Peanuts comic strip. As told in the July post on the Peace Page celebrating Franklin's 50th birthday, Schulz by that time was already a very popular comic strip artist and did not have to acknowledge the school teacher's request to introduce a black character in order to bring the country together and show people of color that they are not excluded from American society.

Schulz carefully thought about it, knowing that his career could be in jeopardy, as other cartoonists had politely declined Glickman's request. But, he corresponded with Glickman's black friends to ensure that he would present Franklin in the best light, smart as Linus and not condescending, even to the point where some would joke that Franklin was too boring and "normal" compared to the other Peanuts characters.

He also received backlash as some newspapers threatened to cut his strip if he showed Franklin in the same classroom as other Peanut characters. He courageously ignored the threats, sitting Franklin in front of Peppermint Patty at school and playing center field on her baseball team. He even told the president of the comic's distribution company that "Either you print it just the way I draw it or I quit."

According to The New Yorker, Schulz always worried about the portrayl of Franklin. "He needn’t have worried, though, because Franklin felt real — or at least felt respected — as a kind kid on the beach with whom Charlie Brown plays in the sand. (“Whites Only” pools were not uncommon in 1968.) Though Schulz may have lived a quiet, remote life in his California studio, he was woke enough to realize that all one had to do was care enough about a character for he or she to 'work,' even if the shell of the character wasn’t his own."

Schulz later introduced another black character, Milo, as well as semi-Latino Jose Peterson, one of the first characters of Hispanic descent in U.S. comics. He also gave voice to women in sports in the strip after he became friends with tennis star Billie Jean King, leading to a lifelong interest in the fair treatment of women athletes and a seat on the board of the Women’s Sports Foundation that King founded.

Today, the work of Charles Schulz is still very popular, even though recently the Peanuts' animated Thanksgiving special is embroiled in some undeserved social media controversy designed to divide fans who may not be aware of how Franklin was originally introduced.

In an article in Snopes, Nat Gertler, author of a book about Peanuts, wrote:

That even though the animated cartoon was in a completely different media than Schulz' newspapers, there is an "assumption that Charles Schulz himself planned the admittedly awkward shot being referenced [of Franklin sitting alone on one side of the picnic table]. While Schulz definitely kept a hand in the animated work, by 1973 when the Thanksgiving special aired, the Peanuts characters were starring in not only a steady stream of TV specials, but also a series of animated feature films. Schulz certainly wasn’t laying out every shot himself — he had a day job to take care of, writing and drawing the most popular comic strip going, as well as creating original books, handling licensing materials, and so on. A talented team of animation folks were doing their job on this."

Schulz critics also like to ask why Franklin was drawn to look "dirty" in the first early panels, not realizing that back then every newspaper comic strip was printed in black and white with no option for shading other than drawing lines to depict shades.

Gertler would conclude, "Schulz stuck his neck out introducing Franklin." Others have pointed out that the network which produced the original Peanuts Thanksgiving special is also responsible for cancelling The Smothers Brothers show for being critical of the Vietnam War and the political mainstream. It should also be noted that it was only recently in 2015 that the television academy recognized a black woman, Viola Davis, for best actress in a drama, the first time that award has gone to a black woman in nearly 70 years of award-giving, shedding some light on how ground-breaking the introduction of Franklin was in 1968.

"Despite the over-all racial imbalance of the “Peanuts” cast, this caring is really the secret, mysterious power of Schulz’s entire strip. Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus, Snoopy, Schroeder, Franklin, and everyone else came alive on that page because of Charles Schulz’s ability to make you care about and feel for — and, in Charlie Brown’s case, at least, feel through — nearly every one of them," according to The New Yorker.

Schulz died on February 12, 2000. By the time he retired in "December 1999, the Peanuts comic strip was syndicated in over 2,600 newspapers worldwide, with book collections translated in over 25 languages," according to the Charles M. Schulz Museum.

The Museum also says of Schulz, "The continuing popular appeal of Peanuts stems, in large part, from Schulz’s ability to portray his observations and connect to his audience in ways that many other strips cannot."

"The thoughtful pacing in 'Peanuts' is reminiscent of that of 'Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.' The two also share a rejection of the violence and manic energy that characterize other children’s media of the time", according to the New Yorker.

“Schulz wasn’t an artist because he suffered. He suffered because he was an artist," said writer Jonathan Franzen in the Press Democrat. "To keep choosing art over the comforts of life — to grind out a strip every day for 50 years, to pay the very deep psychic price for this — is the opposite of damaged. It’s sort of choice only a tower and strength and sanity can make.”

Bruce Handy in The Atlantic wrote:

"So if I were asked to pick the character most likely to find happiness if he or she ever grew up . . . I wouldn’t hesitate to pick Charlie Brown. Maybe he does find a form of redemption in his suffering? He feels his failures deeply, he suffers profoundly, and yet he remains ever willing to take another run at kicking the football or trying to get his kite aloft or pitching the next game or hoping this year, finally, to receive a valentine. If he is a blockhead, it is in part because he cares so much; diffidence doesn’t merit the insult. Like his creator, he has passion and persistence. If he were real, I like to tell myself, Charlie Brown would be fine."

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

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bechloeislegit · 6 years

Text

A to Z BeChloe

B is for BARDEN HIGH’S BADASS

Beca Mitchell has a rumored reputation being a badass and of hooking up with almost every girl at Barden High. What happens when she hooks up with Chloe Beale, the typical All-American Girl.

Note: High School AU. Brief mention of attempted sexual assault but nothing graphic; and homophobia. Also, Beca's parents are still married in this story.

Chloe Beale is gorgeous by everyone's standards and has a heart of gold. She's Co-Captain of the cheerleaders, Captain of the volleyball team, President of the Student Council, and is always on the Academic Honor Roll.

It was the first day of their Senior Year, and Aubrey Posen and Stacie Conrad were standing by Chloe's locker while she got her books for her first class.

"What do you want for your birthday, Chloe?," Aubrey asked. "Turning eighteen is a big deal."

"I can't wait for your party," Stacie said excitedly. "I bet everyone will be there. The hunter will be busy."

"Keep it in your pants, Stacie," Aubrey said. "Is there anyone at Barden High you haven't slept with yet?"

"There are a few," Stacie said. "There's you two, and also…" She bit her lip as she eyed one particular person standing at a locker across the hall.

"Beca Mitchell?," Aubrey said, causing Chloe's head to shoot up and look at where they were staring. "You haven't slept with the enigma of Barden High? How did you miss out on her? She's practically slept with every girl in the school. It's disgusting."

"Just bad timing, I guess," Stacie said wistfully as she continued to eye the girl. "She's so hot."

Beca Mitchell was on the other side of the spectrum from Chloe and her friends. Oh, she was beautiful, no one could deny that. But, she didn't really participate in many school activities, had a reputation for being a serious badass, and still managed to always be on the Academic Honor Roll. Rumors run rampant about things she did, like getting arrested and having slept with just about every girl at Barden High.

The three friends watched Beca as she got her books and started down the hall. Beca saw them and sent them all a smirk. She looked at each one as she passed and glared at Chloe on her way by.

"What's with the hostility, Mitchell?," Aubrey asked having noticed the look Beca gave Chloe.

"Hostility? No," Beca replied as she stopped to look at Aubrey. She turned her focus to Chloe and continued. "More like disdain. Or maybe disgust. Or regret. That's it. It's most definitely regret."

With that Beca turned and continued her trek down the hall to her class.

"What the hell did that mean?," Aubrey asked looking at Chloe.

"I, um, have no idea," Chloe said, as she felt tears sting her eyes and her face redden. "We should get to class."

"Let's go then," Stacie said.

The three friends walked to class and Chloe immediately noticed Beca when they walked in. She stared at Beca, and Beca just stared blankly back at her. Chloe looked down and followed Aubrey and Stacie to their seats. Chloe couldn't help but continue to look at Beca, stealing glances when she thought the brunette wasn't looking. What hurt was that there was a time when Beca was always sneaking looks at her, but not anymore. And, it was all Chloe's fault.

Chloe couldn't focus on whatever the teacher was saying. Instead, her mind wandered back to the summer.

Chloe walked the trail enjoying the quiet. Her best friends Aubrey and Stacie were both at a summer camp and would be away for two months. She found a lot of time to do what she liked to do, instead of always doing what Aubrey wanted. Aubrey was somewhat overbearing, and she and Stacie decided early on it was easier to go along with her than it was to fight her. She was lost in her thoughts and not really paying attention to her surroundings when she was grabbed from behind and dragged into the nearby woods. Whoever it was put their hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Tears started streaming down her face as she struggled. She was afraid; very afraid.

The guy got her about fifteen feet into the woods before he threw her down on the ground. She scrambled to get up when he grabbed her by the hair and threw her back down to the ground. She landed on her back and had the wind knocked out of her. He straddled her waist and leaned down to kiss her. She jerked her head away, and he slapped her. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, and he laughed as he started unbuckling his belt. She closed her eyes as tears streamed down her face. She screamed and struggled, and suddenly he wasn't on her anymore.

She opened her eyes and saw him lying on his back, unconscious. She was paralyzed by fear and just stared at him until she heard a voice ask, "Are you okay?"

Chloe's head spun around and standing there looking down at her was Beca Mitchell. Beca threw down the log she had hit the guy with and put her hand out to Chloe. Chloe took the offered hand, and Beca pulled her to her feet. Chloe grabbed onto her and cried. Beca just held her and let her.

"Thank you," Chloe managed to say as she started to calm down.

They heard someone call out. "Over here," Beca yelled back. In a few minutes, two police officers appeared. One put the guy in handcuffs, and the other checked on Beca and Chloe.

Chloe was still shaken up a bit, so Beca told them what she saw and did. While Beca was talking the EMTs arrived and took Chloe to the ambulance. The EMTs were trying to get her to calm down, but she struggled with them.

"Miss you have to calm down," the EMT told her.

"I need Beca," Chloe cried. "Please, get Beca."

One of the EMTs hurried away and came back a few minutes later with Beca. Chloe was struggling with the other EMT and crying. Beca rushed over.

"Hey, it's okay," Beca said. "I'm here. I'll ride to the hospital with you. Okay? Just calm down."

Chloe sobbed and muttered a "thank you" before she was placed in the ambulance. Beca climbed in after the EMT and sat next to Chloe. Chloe grabbed her hand and held on tight. Beca used her other hand to pat Chloe's arm in comfort.

Two months later and Chloe had spent almost every single day and some evenings with Beca. They had become fast friends, and Chloe found herself attracted to Beca. She knew of Beca's reputation and wondered why Beca hadn't made a move on her. One day while they were hanging out, Chloe kissed Beca. Beca was taken by surprise but kissed Chloe back. The next three days found them making out before it went further and they had sex together. For Chloe, it was the greatest experience of her life. Beca knew it was cheesy, but she felt like she had actually experienced Heaven on Earth and couldn't wait to spend more time with Chloe. The next day, Beca texted Chloe to see if she wanted to go to the diner for their first official date. Chloe had texted back that she couldn't because Stacie and Aubrey were back from camp and they had already made plans. Beca understood, and Chloe said she'd text her later. Chloe never did text Beca back. Chloe felt bad because Beca texted her over the next several days, but she never responded. After a few days, Beca stopped texting.

Chloe had wanted to text Beca because she really, really liked the girl. Aubrey said she had seen Beca and started talking about how she must be busy hooking up with so many girls because it looked as if she hadn't slept in a week. Chloe was conflicted and felt like, even though she kissed Beca first, she was just another notch on Beca's belt. She tried to forget about her, but she was finding that to be easier said than done.

What Chloe didn't know was that Beca hadn't slept in days wondering what she did to make Chloe ignore her. She had fallen hard for Chloe and thought there was something special between the two.

"Come on, Chloe," Aubrey said grabbing her arm. "We're going to be late for the second period."

Chloe glanced up and realized she had zoned out for the entire class. She glanced back quickly and noticed Beca was gone. She sighed and got up to follow Aubrey to their next class. She and Aubrey walked into their next class and found seats. Just before class started Beca walked in, and Chloe looked at her. Beca ignored her and sat as far away from her as she could. Chloe felt bad. She's the one who initiated things with Beca and then just started ignoring her without any explanation. She needed to talk to Beca to clear things up and apologize.

Beca hurried out of class, so she didn't have to see Chloe. As she hurried to her next class, she thought back again to what she could have done to cause Chloe to ignore her when everything had been going so well. She really fell hard and fast for the girl, and she couldn't think of anything she did to cause Chloe to suddenly turn cold on her. Unless Chloe was just using her because she was bored while her best friends were away at camp. She wanted to know Chloe's reason for what she did but wasn't sure she was ready to hear it.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

The final bell of the day rang, and Beca made her way to her locker. She had just opened the door when Chloe was next to her looking at her.

"What?," Beca said.

"Can we talk?," Chloe asked looking around the hallway.

"Go ahead. Talk," Beca said going through her locker and putting what she needed to take home in her backpack.

"Can we talk somewhere else?," Chloe said quietly.

"What's the matter, Chloe?," Beca asked standing straight to look her in the eye. "Afraid someone might find out that you slept with the lezzie slut of Barden High?"

Tears sprang to Chloe's eyes. This was not how she wanted this to go.

"Please, Beca?," Chloe said through her tears.

"Fine," Beca said hating that Chloe was crying. "Meet me at the diner on Green Street at six o'clock. My folks are going out, and I have to eat dinner somewhere."

"Thank you," Chloe said wiping her tears and hiding her face. "I'll be there."

"Whatever," Beca said and slammed her locker door closed.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

Beca arrived at the diner a little before six and looked around. Chloe wasn't there yet, and Beca wondered if she would even show. Beca got a table and ordered a coke while she waited. She heard some noise at the door and looked up to see Tom Davis and a few other members of the baseball team come through the door. Beca knew that Tom was Chloe's ex-boyfriend and wondered if she had told him about meeting her at the diner.

"Hey, guys, look who's here," Tom said and smirked toward Beca. "Barden's lezzie badass."

Beca just rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Just go away, Tom. I don't need any of your shit."

Tom's friends all "oohed" and snickered at Tom. "Big talk for such a small dyke."

"Ouch," Beca said and grabbed her chest. "You wound me with your words."

Beca stood and walked over to her waitress. She handed her some money for her soda and started to leave.

"I'm not through with you yet," Tom said as he grabbed her arm.

"That's too bad," Beca said. "Because I am more than through with you. Now let me go."

Beca pulled her arm out of Tom's grasp and walked out the door. The last thing she heard was Tom yelling, "That's right, dyke. Run away like a little bitch," followed by laughter.

Beca fought down the urge to go back and punch Tom. Not because she was afraid, but because she didn't want Chloe walking in and seeing it. Beca had just got to her car when she saw Chloe pull in. Chloe saw her as well and parked next to her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Chloe said as she got out of the car. "Are you leaving already? I didn't think I was that late."

"You're fine," Beca said. "Tom's inside. I didn't think you wanted him to see you with me, so I bailed. Or did you tell him to meet you here so you could both have a good laugh at my expense?"

"Beca, no," Chloe said adamantly, shaking her head. "We broke up months ago. I want nothing to do with him. I swear, I didn't know he was going to be here."

Beca didn't say anything and stared at the ground. She felt a hand on her face, pulling at it to make her look up. She resisted.

"Beca, look at me, please," Chloe said softly.

Beca looked up to see Chloe's face just inches away from hers.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said with a tear in her eye. "I was an idiot to shut you out. The time I spent with you over the summer were some of the best days of my life. I wanted to keep seeing you, but I was stupid and listened to Aubrey talk about how tired you looked because of all the girls you were sleeping with. It hurt, and I thought I was just another notch on your bedpost."

Beca jerked away from Chloe. "Are you fucking serious right now? You ghosted me because of something Aubrey Posen said? You know she hates me, right?" Beca shook her head and started to walk around her car to get away from Chloe.

"No, Beca, please stop," Chloe cried and grabbed her arm to stop her. "Let me finish. I realized that I was being foolish. The Beca Mitchell Aubrey was talking about was not the same Beca Mitchell that I fell in love with over the summer. She got inside my head, and I just fell into the same mindset as her. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I want to be with you, Beca. I swear I do."

Beca stared at Chloe not speaking. Chloe stared back at her. After a minute or two, Chloe started fidgeting.

"Please say something," Chloe said breaking the silence between them.

"I'm supposed to believe you're in love with me?"

Chloe let out a shaky breath. "Yes, because I am."

Beca looked around the parking lot and then rested her gaze on Chloe. "It hurt when you just ignored me, Chlo. And to hear that it's because of your friend who doesn't like me, doesn't make me feel any better. I'm not what the gossip says I am. I haven't slept with every girl at school. The only girl I've ever slept with from school is you. And that's because up until six months ago, I had a girlfriend and I'm no cheater."

Chloe was ashamed, and it showed on her face. "I'm sorry, Beca. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Beca just looked at her. "I don't know. I'm not sure that I-"

Beca was cut off when she found herself being shoved from the side and into her car. She bounced off and fell to the ground landing on all fours.

"What the hell are you doing talking to my girlfriend, you dyke?"

"I'm not your girlfriend, Tom," Chloe said and moved quickly to stand between Tom and Beca. "We broke up months ago. Get over it."

"We're not done until I say we're done," Tom snarled. "I'll take you home as soon as I take care of the dyke."

"Leave her alone, Tom," Chloe said staying in front of Beca to block Tom from her. "Not that it's any of your business, but we were just talking."

Beca got up off the ground, and Tom pushed Chloe aside. Beca was ready for him and punched him.

"You bitch," Tom screamed as he put a hand to his cheek.

Tom pulled his hand down and growled as he stepped to her again. Beca avoided the punch he threw at her head and punched him in the stomach. When he bent over, she grabbed the back of his head and pushed his head down as she brought her knee up smashing it into his nose. Tom fell backward to the ground, bringing his hand to his nose as he tried to stem the flow of blood.

"You bitch," Tom yelled from the ground. "You broke my fucking nose." Tom looked at his friends. "Get the bitch."

"No!" Chloe yelled and tried to get between Tom's friends and Beca.

Tom's two friends pushed Chloe aside causing her to fall to the ground. Beca saw red, and all her self-defense training kicked in. She punched the first guy and kicked the second in the stomach. She was holding her own, but there were two of them, and one of them finally was able to grab her from behind, pinning her arms to her side. She shot her head back, hitting him in the nose, causing him to loosen his grip. She got away from him and gave the other guy a quick one-two punch.

When she was done Tom's two friends were writhing on the ground, and Tom was standing in front of her with blood covering his mouth, chin, and most of the front of his shirt. She had taken a few hits, and her right eye was swollen almost shut, but she stood tall against Tom.

Sirens could be heard in the background, but it didn't seem to phase Tom or Beca.

"It's over Tom," Beca said. "Give it up."

"Fuck you, dyke," Tom said and moved to attack Beca.

Beca was ready for him and swept his feet out from under him. He fell on top of one of his friends and rolled off him. He started to get back up, and Beca gave him a hard right to the chin, knocking him out. She stood swaying back and forth, breathing heavy. Chloe caught her just before she hit the ground.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

Beca's parents came rushing into the ER and Chloe jumped up to meet them.

"Chloe," Mrs. Mitchell said. "Is Beca okay? Where is she? What happened?"

"Calm down, Sarah," Dr. Mitchell said. "Give her a chance to answer."

"She's okay," Chloe said. "The doctors said she has two bruised ribs and a broken left hand. She will need to stay overnight. She's also got bruises and a black eye. They are going to let us know when she's moved to a room."

"Did you see her?," Sarah asked.

"No," Chloe said. "They wouldn't let me back because I'm not family."

"I'm going to see if I can go back and see her Warren," Sarah said. "I'll let her know you're here." She turned and left her husband and Chloe in the waiting room.

"Want to tell me what happened?," Dr. Mitchell asked. "I was surprised to get a call from you. I thought you two had broken up."

"That part of things is complicated," Chloe said. "But, Beca had agreed to meet so we could talk."

Chloe then told Dr. Mitchell everything that happened at the diner. "Tom and the other two guys were also brought here. Beca did a number on them." Chloe looked rather proud when she talked about how Beca had beat up the three guys.

Dr. Mitchell couldn't help but smile at that. Before he said anything, two police officers were standing in front of them.

"Miss Beale?," one officer asked, and Chloe nodded. "We need to get your statement."

"Okay," Chloe said. "Um, this is Dr. Mitchell. Beca's father."

"Dr. Mitchell," the officers said and nodded in greeting. "Miss Beale, can you tell us why Miss Mitchell attacked Tom Davis?"

"Beca didn't attack him," Chloe said jumping up angrily. Dr. Mitchell stood as well. "Tom attacked her first. Then his two friends jumped in when Beca was kicking Tom's ass."

"That's not what Mr. Davis said," the first officer said. He opened his notebook. "Mr. Davis states: We were walking across the parking lot when that bitch punched me for no reason. My friends jumped in to defend me since I was bleeding and she was still coming after me. Are you saying that's not what happened?"

"I'm saying, Tom's lying," Chloe said. "And so are his friends if that's what they said happened. Tom attacked Beca and tried to beat her up because she's gay and was talking to me. He's my ex-boyfriend and doesn't want to accept that we've been over for months." Chloe teared up and added, "He and his friends need to be arrested and charged with a hate crime because that's exactly what this was."

Dr. Mitchell pulled Chloe into a hug and held her while she cried. "I know the diner where this happened. They have surveillance cameras all over the parking lots. Go check those and then come back and tell me how my daughter started it."

"We have someone checking them now," the officer said. "Based on what Miss Beale said, I'm going to arrest Mr. Davis and his two friends for assault. We can add on other charges later if we can prove it was a hate crime."

"It was a hate crime," Chloe said adamantly.

"I believe it was," the officer assured Chloe. "But believing it and proving it are two different things. It will be up to the DA if they add other charges."

The officer looked at his partner, and the two walked off to go back and arrest Tom and his friends. Just as they were going through the door, Sarah Mitchell came out and walked over to Chloe and Dr. Mitchell.

"She's fine," Sarah said. "They're taking her to a room now, and we can go up in about twenty minutes."

"Those officers you just passed are going back to arrest Tom and the other two guys," Dr. Mitchell told his wife.

"Good," Sarah said.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

Beca was laying up at an angle to help her breathing with the bruised ribs. Her left hand was in a cast that went midway up her forearm. Her parents walked in, and her father smirked.

"I was expecting to see a black cast," Warren said.

"I liked the blue better," Beca said and shrugged her shoulders. "Did, um, did Chloe leave?"

"She's still here," Sarah said. "She was on the phone talking to her mom. She'll be up when she's done."

"The doctor said I have to stay overnight," Beca said. "I'll also have to miss school for the rest of the week because of the bruised ribs."

"I'll go up to the school tomorrow and explain everything," Sarah said. "Maybe Chloe can pick up your homework and drop it off after school. That is if that's okay with you?"

"If you're trying to find out if we're back together," Beca said with a grin. "I don't know yet."

"We will be if you want us to be," Chloe said from the doorway.

Beca just smiled. "I do," she said quietly.

Chloe broke out in a big smile. "Then it looks like you'll be seeing me every day after school."

"Finally," Sarah said, and Warren laughed. "I love you, Beca, I do, but having you mope around the house is no fun."

"Haha," Beca said, and Chloe giggled.

"Come on, Warren," Sarah said. "Buy me a cup of coffee. I think these two still need to talk."

"Coffee sounds good," Warren said. "We'll be back in a bit."

Chloe and Beca watched as Warren and Sarah left the room. Once they were gone, Chloe sat on the edge of the bed and took Beca's right hand in hers. She gently caressed the bruised knuckles.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said. "It seems like you're always saving me."

"I don't mind," Beca said. "You're worth saving."

"I've missed you," Chloe said.

"I've missed you, too," Beca said. She furrowed her brow as she had a thought. "What are you going to tell, Aubrey? She hates me, although for the life of me I don't know why."

"I don't know why she doesn't like you either," Chloe said. "And, I'm going to tell her the truth. If she can't handle me and you being together, then I guess she isn't the friend I thought she was."

"I don't want to come between you and your best friend," Beca said.

"It will be on her if she has a problem with us," Chloe said. "I'm not giving you up now that I have you back."

Beca smiled and leaned in for a kiss which Chloe was happy to reciprocate.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

Sarah smiled when she opened the door to find Chloe standing there the next afternoon.

"Hi, Mrs. Mitchell," Chloe said.

"Hi, Chloe," Sarah said. "Please call me Sarah. Come on in."

Chloe came in, and Beca slowly got up off the couch and came over to her. "Hey."

"Hey," Chloe said and looked at Sarah and back to Beca.

"I'll leave you two alone," Sarah said. "I'll be in the kitchen fixing a snack."

Sarah left, and as soon as she was out of sight, Beca kissed Chloe.

"Come on," Beca said and took Chloe's hand. "I'm set up down here, so I don't have to walk up the steps. It hurts too much right now. We can work on homework and then watch some TV. Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to," Chloe said. "Let me just call my mom to make sure it's okay."

The rest of the week passed in the same way. It was Friday, and Beca and Chloe were sitting on the sofa in Beca's living room.

"Want to go for a walk?," Beca asked. "I usually walk during the afternoon, but my mom had to go to the store and didn't want me walking by myself. I've been listening to the doctor and trying to move around so that the ribs don't hurt when I go back to school."

"I'd love to," Chloe said. "Maybe we can walk to the park. There are benches, and we can sit and rest before we walk back."

Beca and Chloe walked to the park and Chloe helped Beca sit on a bench.

"Did you tell Aubrey about us?," Beca asked.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "She was upset because I hadn't told what happened over the summer, but she seems okay with us. I think she didn't like you based on the gossip and your sleeping around reputation. I told her what you said about that being a lie because you had a girlfriend and would never cheat. She liked that so she'll be okay with you from here on out." Chloe laughed. "Although, Stacie's jealous."

"Stacie's jealous?," Beca asked surprised. "Why?"

"She kind of had the hots for you, and you never gave her the time of day," Chloe said.

"Oh, God," Beca said blushing. "She's not going to be weird about it, is she?"

"You're with me," Chloe said. "There's kind of a best friend code regarding significant others. She'll leave you alone."

"Thank God," Beca said feeling some relief.

~bBb~ ~bBb~ ~bBb~

Monday morning came around much too soon for Beca. Chloe picked her up because she still couldn't drive. They arrived at the school, and Beca felt like everyone was staring at her.

"Come on, Becs," Chloe said taking her hand. "It'll be okay. Dr. Smith has rearranged my class schedule, so we're in all the same classes. I'll be by your side the whole time."

"I both love that and hate it at the same time," Beca said. "I'm almost eighteen for God's sake. I don't need a babysitter." As Chloe started to speak, Beca held her casted hand to stop her. "BUT, I can't think of a better way to spend my day than with you beside me."

"Good save," Chloe said with a laugh.

Chloe was helping Beca put her books in her locker and get out what she needed for their first-period class.

"Good to see you see back, Beca," some random guy said as he passed Beca and Chloe.

Then two girls came up to them. "We heard what you did to Tom and his friends," one of the girls said giggling. "It's kind of hot."

"No," Beca said shaking her head. "It wasn't. It was me defending myself against an assault. Not hot."

"Why don't you airheads run along and leave Beca alone," Aubrey said from behind the girls.

"Sorry, Aubrey," one of the girls said as she and her friend hurried away.

"Thanks, Brey," Chloe said. "I have feeling it's going to be a long day."

"What's going on?," Beca said. "People I don't even know are giving the 'hey, what's up' nods. Random girls are talking to me."

"Everyone heard what happened at the diner," Stacie said. "You took down three guys who are much bigger than you. Face it, Beca. You really are Barden High's resident badass now."

"Great," Beca snarked. "Just what I need, more attention. Let's get to class."

The four girls walk down the hall to their first class.

Beca made it through her morning classes with little distress. Chloe, Aubrey, and Stacie created a small buffer around her when walking between classes so that she wasn't bumped into or jostled. She did have to hold her side a couple of times, and Chloe was quick to make sure she was okay. Since she had kept moving around while at home, it wasn't so bad.

It was finally lunch time, and Beca was having trouble trying to manage her books and her lunch tray with a broken hand. Chloe came up beside her and took her books from her.

"Carrying my books, Chlo?," Beca said with a grin. "Better be careful, or people are going to think you really like me or something."

Chloe pulled Beca to her and kissed her. Beca was surprised but kissed her back. Chloe pulled back from the kiss with a smile. Beca noticed a lot of kids looking at them with their mouths agape.

"Now they know I do," Chloe said.

"You are so going to be the death of me," Beca said and gave Chloe another quick kiss.

"Yeah," Chloe said with a bit of a smirk. "But, what a way to go."

All Beca could do was laugh as she followed Chloe over to sit with Stacie and Aubrey.

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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andimthedad · 5 years

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Road Trip: Westward Day 3: Walking tons, DC

This summer, the kids and I embarked on a 10,000-mile cross-country road trip from Washington to Maine and back. Along the way, we got a brief taste of America through landmarks and sights that represent our nation, for better or worse.

Read notes from every day of the trip:

Eastward: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Westward: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12.

And various posts from the FAQ.

For some reason, Tumblr posted these out of proper queue order.

–

Washington, DC

We had an entire day to spend in DC. Our hotel was less than 20 minutes from the White House, which is a good place to start a walking tour of key sights.

Rang the doorbell. Nobody home. Took a picture anyway.

We passed the Treasury Department as we walked around the White House:

“What do they do?” asked Beth, age 11.

“They manage all the government’s money,” I said. “They oversee printing it, collecting it, and so on. It’s like a bank.”

“So that building is full of money?” she asked.

“Nah,” I said. “It’s full of numbers.”

Our next stop was the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. It remains a moving tribute to these veterans.

One arm of the Memorial points to the Washington Monument. The other arm points to the Lincoln Memorial.

While we were there, someone made a rubbing of one of the etched names.

I remember when the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was built in the early 1980s. It was designed by Maya Lin, an Asian-American undergraduate student, and selected by a committee from over a thousand submitted designs. The design was meant to symbolize a wound in the earth that needed healing, or that had become a scar, but it was very nontraditional and a lot of people didn’t like it.

“Why on earth would anyone have a problem with this?” asked Beth. “It has a cool meaning.”

I shrugged. “People wanted a traditional statue memorial,” I said, “so they added one of those too. I’ll show you.”

“After all the complaints, the committee in charge of the memorial commissioned this statue of three soldiers,” I said. “I think they hired the guy who came in second or third in the submissions contest.”

“How many people come to see these guys?” asked Luke, age 14.

“Not as many,” I said. “The wall is much more powerful and meaningful.”

We proceeded to the Lincoln Memorial.

This statue is 19 feet tall and always serious.

Despite providing shade, the Memorial remains open-air, and it’s still pretty hot. Minor practical note: the tiny gift shop off to the side has air conditioning.

From the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, you get a great view across the Reflecting Pool, to the World War 2 memorial at the other end of the pool and the Washington Monument in the distance.

Walking down to the other end of the pool, you then get the reverse view.

Did I mention it was sweltering crazy hot and humid that day? We had to buy Italian ices just to survive.

The National World War II Memorial is at the other end of the pool. I didn’t get a good picture of the entire structure, but here’s one from Wikimedia:

The water is relatively cool for dipping your toes into.

Next was the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. One of their current special exhibits — free, in fact, if you just want to duck into the basement — is “Americans and the Holocaust.” It presents a multifaceted view of how America reacted to World War 2, Nazis, Hitler, Jews, and more. For example, the kids pointed out display with a couple of public polls taken in 1938:

Q: Do you approve or disapprove of the Nazi treatment of Jews in Germany? – 94% disapprove – 6% approve

Q: Should we allow a larger number of Jewish exiles from Germany to come to the United States to live? – 71% no – 21% yes – 8% no opinion

In other words: Americans overwhelming condemned the suffering of the Jews under the Nazis, but we also didn’t want to help the Jews escape it.

Among various period newsreels playing, famous aviator Charles Lindbergh was recorded giving an “America First” speech on September 11, 1941, against the U.S. joining the war against the Nazis. He said the Jews were “agitating for war” against Hitler. Although it was “understandable” from their perspective, Lindbergh said those reasons were “not American.”

The exhibit also showed a clip from Charlie Chaplin’s 1940 movie, The Great Dictator, which he wrote and funded explicitly to criticize Hitler. Chaplin is mostly famous for his silent films, but this was his first “talking” movie. In it, he plays both a crazed Hitler-like dictator and a poor Jewish business owner who, by coincidence, look exactly alike. At the end, the Jew has to play the role of the dictator, and gives this surprisingly moving speech:

youtube

The Holocaust Museum also discussed the Japanese internment camps, in which the U.S. rounded up over 100,000 people of Japanese descent and “relocated” them into what some people have called concentration camps. The vast majority of these people lost their homes and businesses during this time. Apparently, after one Japanese internee was told they were put in the camps for their own protection, he responded, “If we were put there for our protection, why were the guns at the guard towers pointed inward, instead of outward?”

Next was the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. This is one of the few museums I remember visiting when I was a kid. There’s a lot of history there, like the Wright Brothers’ first airplane:

Charles Lindbergh’s Spirit of St. Louis, in which he completed the world’s first solo transatlantic flight. And we had just encountered his "America First” efforts at the Holocaust Museum.

The Apollo Lunar Module LM-2 was meant as a backup to the first lunar module, but was never used except for ground practice:

SpaceShipOne, the first privately-owned spacecraft to actually make it to space:

“You have to understand something,” I said. “There are 20 Smithsonian museums and a zoo. We are really only seeing one. And there are a ton of other non-Smithsonian museums in DC. So, like pretty much every other place we’ve gone, we could spend a week or more here.”

We did walk past the Smithsonian’s modern art museum, the Hirshhorn. You can’t miss the car parked out front with a rock:

It’s “Still Life with Spirit and Xitle” by Jimmie Durham, and yes, the face is part of the art.

We then walked over the Museum of the Bible, a non-Smithsonian museum funded by the owner of Hobby Lobby and launched with some minor controversy. We were impressed with the multimedia presentations of the Stories of the Bible.

Beth asked, “What did you think of that?” — referring to the Museum of the Bible.

“I feel like they left a lot of things out of their presentation of the Old Testament,” I said.

“Did they say something wrong?” asked Luke.

“It’s more like… they deliberately left things out so people wouldn’t be confused by the complexity of Scripture.”

“That color-changing room was pretty cool, though,” said Luke.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was supposed to mean,” said Beth. “But I remember the room!”

By this time we were all really tired, and decided to Uber back to the hotel. We would get to the Capitol Building the next day.

–

Unless noted otherwise, all photos and videos are taken by the kids and I, and are shared under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license.

#road trip #roadtrip #washington dc #dc #washington #kids #dads #travel #america #history #smithsonian #holocaust #lincoln #vietnam #world war two #bible #museum #monument #memorial #white house

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diaryofacrazyprofessionalfangirl · 5 years

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About the “Italians are POC” discourse

So I’ve seen a whole mess on Twitter because of a thread about Ariana Grande. I’m not going into detail about her, just rant about a side of it because I’ve also seen some ignorance sparked from that side of the thread.

That side of the thread was about her skin colour, more specifically it said that she used fake tan to the point that it could be considered blackface. Now, some people agreed that she was using too much fake tan, while others said that because she’s of Italian descent she tends to tan way faster than other white people.

This opened a whole section of comments about Italians, I don’t know if you remember the ‘Italians are poc’ debate from a couple of years ago, but it’s basically happening again.

I’m gonna give you my 2 cents:

tl;dr: some Italians are poc, some are not - Italian indicates a nationality and doesn’t refer to any specific skin colour in particular - in this essay I will

Now, full explanation for that:

So, I think some people are confusing nationality with skin colour: your nationality does NOT define the colour of your skin. Usually the people who say stuff like “you’re [insert skin colour] so you don’t belong here” are the close-minded and the racists, so if you’re reading this with such a mindset you came to the wrong place.

For this we also have to talk about how these issues are perceived here in Italy, it’s not the same as in the US so when speaking about Italians you should consider our point of view and not apply yours to us (I don’t mean it in an offensive way, but I can’t find other words right now, so I apologise if this sounded aggressive or offensive).

If you were born and raised in a certain country, that’s your nationality no matter where your parents are from. Example: Italian-Americans who were born and raised in the US are generally considered American, unless they know Italian culture and the language well and stayed in Italy for quite some time. In the second case, it’s more acceptable for them to call themselves Italian; in the first case, they know basically nothing about Italy, or very little anyway, so they would not be really well integrated in our society because of the different culture they absorbed.

As for racism, it’s no surprise it exists in Italy as well, since it’s still present in every country. You can see it online in particular, just look at some comments under posts made by pages of famous newspapers that talk about immigrants. Not all Italians are racist, obviously, but white privilege definitely exists in the Italian society too. For example, if you were a 2nd generation kid from non-Italian parents you’d be more likely to be integrated if you’re white, some 2nd generation pocs still get a lot of hate and some people tell them they can’t be Italian because of their skin colour.

Some of you may have heard about the immigrants situation in Europe, mostly Southern Europe and more specifically Italy (since we’re talking about Italy): you hear a lot of “go back to your country” or “immigrants come to our country to steal our jobs”, which is in contrast with “immigrants stay in 5-star-hotels and get a daily allowance without doing anything” that is also said a lot.

I would say there’s also colourism: for those of you who are not familiar with this term, it’s a form of discrimination based on the shade of your skin. This means that the closer to white your skin is, the better you have it. This is not just about black or white, but for example between 2 black people the one with darker skin would be more discriminated than the other with lighter skin.

So yeah, there’s still a lot of discrimination against pocs in Italy and for 2nd generation kids it’s not easy to be accepted as Italians and to be integrated - it’s getting easier though, because more young people are realising people are just people and nobody should be discriminated against for something they cannot control.

A clarification about skin colours: in Italy having what you call an “olive complexion” is common, but not everyone has it. Some people are really pale, but people with an olive complexion are considered just as white as the pale ones.

I am aware of the fact that Italians were not considered white enough by the US during the first emigration waves, this is why they were discriminated. WW1 and WW2 didn’t really help, because a lot of propaganda against Italians was made. It’s understandable, since Italy was with Germany and Japan against the US, and this actually contributed to all the annoying stereotypes there are about Italians. The propaganda forbid to speak the “languages of the enemy” and also concentration camps were created people of Italian, German and Japanese descent, because even if they were naturalised there in the US they weren’t trusted because they “would side with their country and betray the US”.

(this was somewhat digressing but at least now you know something more)

Historical facts about Italian emigration waves: people from Northern Italy moved mostly to South America, while people from Southern Italy are the majority of those who moved to the US. Back then Italy was also more rural and more people worked in farms for several hours a day under the sun. Now in Italy it’s quite easy to get tanned in the summer, there’s a lot of sun especially in the South, so if you put tanned people in a context of stronger colourism it’s understandable why Italians weren’t deemed to be white but actually poc and how this “Italians are poc” debate originated.

However, this debate shouldn’t even be there in 2019, since you can see many Italian people having different shades of skin colours. Besides, if you’re reading this you have an Internet connection, which should allow you to look up on the Internet the fact that the term “Italian” refers to one’s nationality and not to one’s skin colour.

Quick conclusion in case you’re lost: there are both white Italians and Italian pocs, you can’t use an adjective that indicates a nationality to define a skin colour.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

Side note: to the user who tweeted that Italians wanna feel special and call themselves Latinxs, SAID NO ITALIAN EVER???? I read on Twitter that some Italian-Americans do call themselves Latinxs, but Italians from Italy don’t. Some people don’t even know the connotation “Latino” has: in the US it’s used to indicate people from South and Central America or of that descent, whereas in Italy if you say Latino you’re referring to the Latin language, which was used in Ancient Rome and from which all the Romance languages originated. So no, Italians don’t call themselves Latinxs, tone it down because the tone you used was quite aggressive.

#i had to say it #i threw in some other historical info as well #its always better to know more #and act like you know IF YOU ACTUALLY KNOW #about ariana grande #idk #i dont really follow her #so idk what she does #idk if she uses fake tan or not #honestly if she does all the things mentioned in the thread just to profit from it shes bad #but like i said idk about her so i cant really express myself on that #italians discourse

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flyingsassysaddles · 6 years

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Firsts

Notes: This is a part of @hetaliawritersdiscord ‘s OTP event! I chose the prompt “Firsts” for this fic!

Fic Notes: Tibet/Mongolia, oneshot, Human AU, Boy Scouts AU

___

For Munkhbat, it had been a summer of firsts. Not exactly enjoyable firsts, but definitely a lot. For one thing, it was the first time he had camped in a dense American death forest with evil bugs and mosquitoes, and also the first time he went camping with his whole American boy scout troop, filled with frog sniffing, marshmallow flinging idiots. And the first time he actively wanted to get stabbed in the eye so he could go back to TV.

Alfred, a perpetually happy go lucky, frog sniffing kid, was humming next to him in the loose circle of 7 to 10-year-old boys around the campfire. Trying to prompt his shy twin to start yet another sing-along, Alfred also jabbed him in the rib and smiled, trying to start a conversation with a mouth full of s’mores. “Why do you look so grumpy?”

“I miss my TV.” He stared further into the fire, something that probably wasn’t good for his eyesight but was good at evading more questions from hyper American boys.

“Oh c’mon, camping isn’t all bad. It’s actually really fun!” the American chirped, devouring another marshmallow. “Yesterday I saw a bear!”

“The sighting of bears does not quench my desire to watch things other than trees and rocks.”

The Tibetan kid who had sitten on his other side, one of only other 4 Asian kids in his troop out of 32, giggled at that comment, and action that caused the grumpy Mongolian to turn away from the fire. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!” The Tibetan also started staring at the fire, and the Mongolian swore he saw the boy’s cheeks turn red underneath his scarf. Was the fire really that warm?

“Well..good. I guess.” He too turned back to the fire, starting to wonder if he should grab another marshmallow before the Italian brothers that talked in a funny accent devoured them all.

“Well, um, it was just that it sounded funny?” The Tibetan kid almost squeaked, like he was forcing the words out. He wasn’t that scary, was he?

“Thank you, I guess.” It was silent for a while, as he worked up a way to leave his comfy spot near the fire and his blanket his mom had burrito-ed him in to grab a marshmallow and bolt back to his seat without losing the seat to an opportunistic boy scout.

“What are you thinking about?” Snapping out of his escape plan, he drew his attention to the Tibetan boy yet again.

“Hm? Oh, I’m planning on getting a marshmallow but I’m trying to find out how.” He diligently watched the waiting line for when he should strike.

“O-oh!” The Tibetan kid exclaimed, smiling for some godforsaken reason. Was marshmallow war amusing to him? “I could get some for you!”

He blinked. “You would?”

“Sure!” the boy was practically beaming at this point, and Munkhbat felt slightly guilty for calling him ‘boy’ in his head.

“Thank you, um, what’s your name?”

“Tshering! Well, Tshering Palsang is my full name,” Tshering replied. “How many marshmallows do you want?”

“Uh,” he calculated for a second. It probably wasn’t polite to send Tshering on a mission to steal 13 marshmallows. “Just 3, thank you.”

Tshering nodded and left his seat, which Munkhbat silently put part of his blanket over to prevent anyone stealing it. Why was Tshering so interested in helping him? All he remembered from him after Tshering had joined the troop two weeks ago was that he was apparently struck mute whenever he had to talk to another kid and he was strangely good at sewing, from that one class last week. Maybe Munkhbat was just that charming he could get people to offer to do stuff for him spontaneously? Yeah, that was probably it.

Tshering came back with a handful of marshmallows, giving three to him and sitting down on his seat. “Thanks for saving my seat.”

“Don’t mention it,” Munkhbat replied with a mouth filled with sugary goodness. Man, this was the one good part of camping.

“You know, in my old troop, we all weren’t allowed to eat candy like this,” Tshering said softly, which Munkhbat’s ears managed to catch.

“Really? That sounds incredibly boring,” He remarked, and Tshering had a surprised look on his face when he heard him reply.

“Oh, well, I guess it was.” He looked down at the fire again.

“Where was your old troop?”

“Um, in New York. My dad moved us here to Colorado when he got a job. It’s my first time camping here, actually.”

“Wow,” Munkhbat’s eyes grew big, “New York? That’s awesome! My parents come from Mongolia, they moved here because my mom wanted to or something. I have to help my grandma with English stuff and my mom said that I had to go camping because she used to go with her nomad parents all the time in tents so I need to ‘connect with my culture,’” he rambled, now in a less grumpy mood and even smiling a bit.

“My grandparents are from Tibet, but I’ve never been there.” Tshering looked at his marshmallow. “I wonder if it's the same as Colorado, my grandma says it has lots of mountains.”

“I’ve never been there either, but hey it’s probably filled with mountains. But less misquotes than Colorado, I bet.”

“Yeah. Is this your first time camping here too?” Tshering asked, pushing his scarf up as wind raked through the trees. Even in summer the night air bit your skin atop the mountains.

“Yup. Hey, we have that in common! Hmm,” he tried to think of another thing they could have in common, glad to keep the boringness of the trip in the back of his mind. “Was this trip the first time you saw a bug in your tent?”

Tshering’s eyes lit up. “Yeah!” He was smiling now, leaning back as he thought of his own question, and then leaning back in and saying in a hushed voice, “Is this your first time sleeping in a tent with someone who snores?”

“Oh god yes,” Munkhbat groaned, rolling his eyes. He hated sleeping in a tent with Alfred. Stupid lottery system. “Is this your first time you saw a raccoon prints? And bird tracks that look like a kid made them with a stick?”

Tshering nodded and said with the carelessness they had thrown around in the conversation, “Is this trip the first time you ever had a cru-” The Tibetan stopped himself dead, covering his mouth and cheeks glowing bright red, looking mortified in his green Teen Titans Go scarf. Munkhbat was just confused. Was Tshering going to say crush? No way, there were no girls on the trip, and everyone knew boys couldn’t like boys. At least, that’s what his cousin said. Was he going to say cruise ship? Crutches?

The silence grew again, this time awkwardly, and Munkhbat tried to save the conversation by saying blatantly, “Actually, I never had crutches.”

The Tibetan boy beside him burst out laughing, glancing over at him with a confused but relieved look. “Y-yeah, me neither. Though I had an arm brace once.”

“Oh wow, you broke your arm? How did that happen?” This questioned prompted a whole series of events and conversation from the two boys as they chatted alongside the campfire, Munkhbat smiling and cheering up from his gloomy state of I’m-going-to-die-in-this-wilderness and Tshering grinning alongside him.

Alfred, from his new spot he traded with Matthew, glanced at them from his own conversation with the loud-mouthed Italian brother he, unfortunately, sat next to. He noticed how Munkhbat finally looked like he didn’t have a snake in his boots (hopefully, that would mean he would be so judgmental before they went to sleep in their tent), and the way that kid who sat next to him smiled so gently and had such blushing cheeks, grinning as they talked. Huh, Munkhbat would gain another friend and they could add him to their canoe team at the end of the camping trip, Alfred thought. He looked away and back to the Italian, leaving a boy with a crush and a grumpy Mongolian to their conversation about everything.

#aph tibet #aph mongolia #aph america #aph canada #aph south italy #aph #hetalia #fanfic #tibet/mongolia #tibmongol #tibgolia #human au #boy scouts au #camping #otp event #hwdwriters #sassy's writing

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eurohoopblog · 5 years

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It’s not for everyone.

2018 was one of the best and worst years of my life.

As I started off the 2017/18 season in Slovakia Eurocup, everything was going great. Traveling to a new country every other week for games, a competitive schedule, cool teammates, weekend road trip adventures. Life was good. As matter of fact, life was great. I was enjoying the peaceful, simple life that Slovakia offered.

In Slovakia, part of the visa application process includes gathering individual criminal record checks of everywhere you have lived in the past 4 years (before your mind starts wandering, the answer is no...continue reading🙃). In my case, this included Canada, United States, Greece, and Poland. After you’ve obtained all of your records, you have a 3 month validation window to apply for a visa. Prior to leaving home for Slovakia and after a lot of paperwork, I was able to secure 3 out of the 4 records- all that was left was Greece. Fast forward to mid November and mid season, my Greek papers finally arrived in Slovakia. “Finally, now my visa can be issued,” I thought. Not quite. Because it had been over 3 months, my three previous records had “expired” and were no longer valid. We had to restart the whole application process from scratch. Cross country road trips to Poland, early embassy visits in Bratislava, a scramble of paperwork and phone calls. As luck would have it, we also had an even more pressing issue on our hands. The maximum length of a short-term stay in the Slovak Republic cannot exceed a total of 180 days... we were nearing 150. Time was against my side and my papers were put on a rush. All I could do was wait.

After I returned from Christmas holidays in Florida & Greece, everything changed. My reentry to Slovakia without a visa delivered another set of problems and my struggles increased. After I finally finessed my my way back into the country *see previous post🙃, I was relieved to finally make it back to Ruzomberok. I was even more relieved to hear that all of my documents had arrived and were being processed. Although I was just over 180 days, I was sure there would be some way around it considering the circumstances of my situation. Well, less than a week later my naivety slapped me in my in face.... my application was denied.

I was devastated. I loved my team and I didn’t want to leave. My team and I exhausted all options in attempts of an appeal. Even with the help of the club’s lawyers and president, the law enforcement would not budge. I couldn’t believe it; I had never heard of anything like this before. After our appeal was rejected, I was faced with a choice. I could stay to finish out the season without a visa, crossing my fingers I wouldn’t be deported, or I could leave- two unfortunate and unfavourable options for both sides. My team staff and I carefully discussed my situation and the choice was left up to me. At the same time, I learned about a former American player that was (literally) deported a few years back for a similar situation. After hearing this, I knew that I couldn’t stay. Not only would I be playing with fire, but I would be jeopardizing my career. The risk did not outweigh the reward and I made the decision to leave Slovakia. Less than two weeks later, I found myself back in Greece playing for a new team to finish out the season with in Thessaloniki. Unfortunately, when it rains it pours and my bad luck continued to follow. Underwhelming living conditions, a losing record, and some other issues left me feeling emotionally drained. After playing for a few months, financial issues within the team forced my coach and I to resign the last month of the season. And with that... my third season overseas officially came to an end.

Although last year was one of the toughest I’ve faced, ironically enough, it was also one of the best years of my life. Even though a lot of things didn’t go in my favour last year, a lot of things did.

In 9 months, I travelled to over 10 different European countries- Slovakia, Hungary, Poland, Czech Republic, Austria, Turkey, Russia, Greece, France, and Italy. I met some amazing new teammates, reunited with old teammates, and made some unforgettable memories. Post season, I hosted a boys and girls basketball camp in Santa Margherita Ligure, Italy; a beautiful fishing town minutes away from Portofino and Cinque Terre. My best friend and I lituated our way through Athens, the Greek Islands, and Italy... leaving no carbs behind (pics below). The summer continued on a high note, bouncing between home and Portland to train and spend time with friends and family. I also spent some time in California- from up in the bay down to LA- and had the opportunity to coach at Klay Thompson’s basketball camp in Orange County. Although a lot of things might have gone wrong in 2018, a lot of things went right.

After a tumultuous season and the ups and downs that followed, I needed stability going into the 2018-19 season. When my former team from Athens reached out, I felt as though I was given a sign. After playing for Dafni my second year overseas, I had one of my most successful seasons professionally. I loved my team, I loved the city, I loved gyros and gyros loved me back. During the past four years overseas, Athens has made itself my home away from home. Once again, Greece found its way to mark itself as the next chapter in my book.

I’ve been back in Athens since September now and I couldn’t be more content. Our season is off to a solid start, currently sitting 4th in league and undefeated in the Greek Cup. Playing a tight knit rotation, we have a strong chemistry on/off the floor and if we stick to the script, this year could be something special. I’m joined by two younger Americans (I’m a vet now!?), and we share an apartment and team car together. This season, I am living in Piraeus, a beautiful seaside neighborhood near the port of Athens. South of the city center, Pireas is full of v cute cafes/bars/restaurants nestled along the sea. After living in the congestion of the center my previous year, the tranquil seaside lifestyle is definitely more my vibe. When the weather is right, there’s a very good chance you will find me down near the sea (only a 5 min walk from our apt), grabbing a coffee, laying out, or just relaxing/recharging between practices. I’ve been fully taking advantage of our new location, so much so I even asserted myself into the senior citizen swimming group a few mornings lol. Off the court, life is pretty hard to beat in Athens. Good weather, good people, good food; there’s not much more I can ask for.

After everything 2018 threw at me, I am grateful for it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly. I grew as a player and a person, learned many lessons, and came out of it all as a stronger individual. Even though life hit me hard, I got back up. The highs, the lows, and the in betweens are all part of what make us human and they are all part of our journey through life. My personal experience overseas has been a whirlwind of ups and downs; delivering some of the very best times of my life and also some of the hardest times of my life. As cliche as it may sound, I truly believe everything happens for a reason and a silver lining can be found in every situation if you look hard enough. The past four years have tested me more than I could imagine, and I’m thankful for them all.

I did not share my story for sympathy, I did not tell my story for attention; I told my story because life is not always easy. In a society oversaturated by perfectionism, we forget that there is power in vulnerability. When you look on Instagram, it’s easy to think professional overseas athletes are “living the dream,” a phrase we hear all too often. The truth is, yes, there are many highs, but there can also be many lows. These lows may not be making the superficial IG “highlight real” but that doesn’t mean that they are not happening. Nobody’s life is perfect no matter how social media makes it look. It’s easy to compare behind rose-colored glasses, but in reality- there is another side of “the dream” that people do not see. Two-a-days, language barriers, 10 hour bus rides, underwhelming living conditions, injuries, team financial drama, all day Netflix marathons. Nobody sees the struggles we go through off the the court; the isolation, the boredom, the loneliness. The reality is, playing overseas is not for the weak or faint hearted; I’ve seen overseas life break even the strongest people- it’s not for everyone. That’s exactly why I’m compelled to share the raw moments, the unfiltered moments, the good the bad and the ugly- without the airbrush.

With that..... 2018 has officially come to a close. A year full of many struggles and many blessing, I am grateful for them all and would not change a thing. Everything has aligned itself to bring me to where I am today, and in this moment, life is good. To this crazy thing called life, thank you.... I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 6 years

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THE FRIGHTENERS is Peter Jackson’s Missing Link

One of the conceits of Ghostbusters is that some people consider them frauds. In both films, there’s a human villain, a government administrator in both cases, that thinks the Ghostbusters are con men; filling the public’s head with concerns of spooks and then charging the suckers to “get rid of them.” In The Frighteners, Frank Bannister is a con man ripping people off for “eradicating” spectral activity, but that’s not to say that the ghosts aren’t real, they’re just in on the con.

The Frighteners was released on July 19, 1996, and while it was not a success at the box office, it has developed a devoted cult following. Of course, some of that might have to do with the appreciation of the work of Peter Jackson by the broader audience. It was after he finished this movie that Jackson, and many of the same members of the film crew, took up the challenge of a little project called The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Back in 1996 though, Jackson was merely known for a few, small gross out horror films like Meet the Feebles, and his critically acclaimed drama Heavenly Creatures. After that success, Jackson and his partner Fran Walsh pitched a projected about a town haunted by the Grim Reaper, and the huckster exorcist that knows all the ghost stories are real. This would become The Frighteners.

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Jackson and Walsh were lucky enough to find a patron that believed in their pitch, Robert Zemeckis. It was Zemeckis’ intention to take the idea, and turn it into a Tales from the Crypt spin-off movie that he would direct, but he ended up liking the finished script so much that he agree to let Jackson direct it as a standalone story. Universal Pictures financed and distributed the movie, and gave Zemeckis and Jackson rare creative control, including final cut.

It was also the Zemeckis connection that allowed Jackson to cast his first choice for Bannister, Michael J. Fox. Although not necessarily as bankable as he was in the 80s, Fox was still steadily employed, and perhaps in the midst of a bit of a career resurgence. It was later that same year when Fox returned to TV and starred in a new successful sitcom called Spin City in which he played the put upon deputy mayor of New York. It was while he was shooting Spin City that Fox announced that he had Parkinson’s, and to date, The Frighteners is Fox’s final leading role in a film.

It could be argued though that the real star of The Frighteners though, was its visual effects. Weta Digital, now at the forefront of computer effects technology, was just three years old at the time, but it carried the heavy load of the film’s complex visuals effects, including characters that were all or partially CG. These include “The Judge” played by John Astin, an Old West hanging judge with a loose jaw and a skeletal torso. While The Judge is partially CG, the Grim Reaper figure was all computer generated, and it doesn’t quite stand out by 2018 standards.

That Reaper figure is not the actual spectre of death, but the film’s villain Johnny Bartlett played by Jake Busey. Barlett was a spree killer put to death decades earlier, but even in the afterlife he was obsessed with ratcheting up his “score”. Through the course of the film, it’s revealed that the ghostly Bartlett had killed Bannister wife after the two were in a car accident, the originating event of Frank’s psychic ability’s and Johnny Bartlett’s first post-death murder.

Now Johnny Bartlett the character is inspired by real-life spree killer Charles Starkweather. Starkweather killed his way though Nebraska and Wyoming over a two month period in December 1957 and January 1958, and was arrested after murdering 12 people. During a one week period in January, Starkweather killed 11 people, and it was during this period we has in the company of his 14-year-old girlfriend Caril Ann Fugate. Fugate served 17 years in prison after a jury found testimony that alleged she was a hostage of Starkweather to not be credible.

This dynamic comes into play in The Frighteners too. Like Starkweather, Bartlett had an accomplice in a teenage girl named Patricia Bradley, who was more than a little than just okay with being romantic with a psychopath. The adult Patricia is played by Dee Wallace Stone, who Jackson cast because he liked the idea of hiring the mom from E.T. as a way to surprise the audience about Patricia’s allegiance.

Trini Alvarado, then perhaps best known for playing Meg in Little Women, and the Re-Animator himself, Jeffrey Combs, round out the main cast. Alvarado plays Dr. Lucy Lynskey, a doctor who’s husband is killed by ghost Bartlett, and becomes Frank’s sidekick and love interest. Combs is FBI Agent Dammers, which sounds a lot like “Dahmer”, an expert in cults and the paranormal who suspects Frank is the real killer and only pretending to see ghosts.

There are a lot of players on this complex stage that Jackson set. Chi McBride and Jim Fyfe play two of Frank’s ghostly partners, Julianna McCarthy plays Patricia Bradley’s paranoid mother, and R. Lee Emery appears as, what’s essentially, the ghost of this drill sergeant character from Full Metal Jacket. The setting is the town of Fairwater, Jackson’s native New Zealand dressed up to look like a quaint sea-side town in either New England of the Pacific Northwest.

As to the play itself, it’s clear that Jackson pulled influences from Ghostbusters and Beetlejuice. At its heart is the idea that death is not a transformative experience, but just another condition of life where people become more of what they are. After he dies, Lucy’s husband Ray continues to jog and be considered about his physical health even though he’s an intangible spectral blob of ectoplasm. In other words, you can’t change who you are even after you’re dead.

There’s also a bit of Stephen King and Twin Peaks in The Frighteners. It’s the small town tableau where everybody knows each other, and knows about the strange goings-on, but at some level refuses to accept it. And considering that New Zealand was still an unknown element to a lot of North American moviegoers, so the real life locale accentuates the fantasy in a way.

Indeed, The Frighteners laid the ground work for Jackson’s journey to Middle Earth in many ways: shooting New Zealand, and mixing practical effects with computer generated imagery. In hindsight, The Frighteners might be seen as a dress rehearsal for The Lord of the Rings, a chance for Jackson to stretch his skills and prove he was ready to tackle the complex technical requirements of the trilogy. That’s not to say that Jackson wasn’t talented enough to pull off LOTR without the work on The Frighteners, but it was mentioned in many reviews for The Frighteners that the effects work overwhelmed the story.

On the other hand, Jackson’s career path might explain the success of The Lord of the Rings. In an era when a director is plucked from the indie oeuvre and given a $200 million budget, said director either rises to the challenge or buckles under the weight of the size and scope. Could Jackson bear the weight of LOTR easier having made The Frighteners?

Looking back at The Frighteners it’s easy to see why critics would get the impression that it’s more interested in the technical. Have said that, what’s working in the film’s favour is that The Frighteners is chock full of ideas, and is capable of navigating a wide spectrum of tones from camp to thrills. The film also reminds us of the inherent charm of Michael J. Fox, even when he’s trying to play someone unlikable on the surface.

It also marks a passing of sorts. Horror sometimes seems like the game for the younger directors, a chance for them to show their proficiency in the language of cinema. After The Frighteners, Jackson worked on the blockbuster scale with a King Kong remake, and The Hobbit trilogy, with only a break in between for the smaller Lovely Bones adaptation. Jackson’s not shown much of sign that he’s interested in going back to splatter shock and gallows humour. It seems that time has passed.

The Frighteners though stands at a fascinating intersection in terms of its director’s resume, and being the rare horror comedy that slips through the studio machine. It’s interesting to note that The Frighteners was released on the same day that the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta began, so as soon it opened, The Frighteners was buried under the anticipation and expectation of something decidedly more upbeat. The makes The Frighteners, in the end, ripe for rediscovery.

The post THE FRIGHTENERS is Peter Jackson’s Missing Link appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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