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ancientcharm · 12 days

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Antinous, the beautiful young man who gave his life for love to emperor

Antinous was favorite and lover of emperor Hadrian.

"Antinous died in Egypt after falling into the Nile, according to what Hadrian wrote or, according to what really happened, because he was offered as a sacrifice. Hadrian was a great enthusiast of all kinds of divinations and enchantments. Thus, Hadrian honored Antinous - because of his love for him or because he would have agreed to die freely - since the voluntary surrender of a life was necessary for to achieve what he intended." (Cassio Dio)

"The reason for this would have been that Hadrian wanted to prolong his life and that upon asking a magician to take his place, everyone backed off but Antinous offered to do so." (Aurelius Victor)

Emperor Hadrian (reign: 117-138)

Born on January 24, 76, he was the nephew of his predecessor, Trajan. He was married to Vibia Sabina, grandniece of Trajan, with whom he had a terrible relationship but curiously he loved his mother-in-law, Salonia Matidia (Trajan's niece) like a mother. He is the third of the so-called "Five Good Emperors", however Hadrian was the only one of the five who was not popular either among the people or in the Senate, because:

He was the one who stopped - forever - the expansion of the Empire. This was not welcomed at that time because territorial expansion was the soul of Rome since its founding.

He had an obsessive admiration for Hellenism, the Romans did not like this either. He was the first to wear a beard, something that the Romans associated with barbarism and "weird people"( only some gods would wear a beard without problems) Later this Hadrian novelty would prevail as a fashion in Rome for more than a century, but for his contemporaries it must have been shocking.

He used to have sudden attacks of anger becoming aggressive, and hours later he would lament bitterly and try to repair any damage done. This "bipolarity" was seen as a non-Roman attitude.

No one before or after him toured the entire empire as Hadrian did, which is why he is known as 'The Traveling Emperor'. His endless tours were not well regarded by the Senate.

His relationship with Antinous, considered inappropriate because he was not a slave and Hadrian had him in public concubinage

But despite everything, he was a good emperor.

Unfortunately there are no historical sources about the life of Antinous but, thanks to his sculptures, it is known that he was a very handsome young man. As a teenager - but let us remember that the notion of adolescence did not exist in the ancient world - he met Hadrian in Bithynia. From that moment until the day of his death, when he was around 20 years old, he did not separate from Hadrian.

What really happened on the Nile

Antinous as Osiris- Vatican Museums.

After listening to a lecture and reading, I discovered that shortly before the death of Antinous, the emperor began to feel ill to the point that he feared an imminent death. But as was his custom, instead of looking for medicine, he looked for "magic spells" in the East.

When he arrived in Egypt with Antinous on October 24, 130, the arrival coincided (and was not so coincidental) with the religious festival that commemorated the death of Osiris, drowned in the Nile and then resurrected by his wife Isis. Goddess Isis was invoked in healing incantations.

Cassius Dion's suspicions are the same as other Roman historians as well as modern ones, because the death of Antinous was "coincidentally" during that religious ritual.

But those same historians agree that it was not Hadrian who asked Antinous to sacrifice himself. As the Roman historian Aurelius Victor wrote, he asked a magician for the sacrifice, but that man and the others backed away, so Antinous voluntarily decided to enter the Nile.

It is very likely that he really believed in those practices, that is, he believed that by doing this, his emperor could heal and live longer. Following the death of Antinous, Hadrian deified him.

#roman emperors #ancient history #roman empire #ancient rome #History

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beesmygod · 2 years

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is 9/11 funny? 🤔

im putting a rare CONTENT WARNING on this post for frank discussion of 9/11. there are no pictures (they are linked and no gore), just words.

i feel compelled to answer this since 9/11 was on my mind lately. very american thing to say lol. anyway: i was thinking about the emotional/social disconnect between generations and how difficult it is to convey how vastly and terrifyingly different things became almost instantaneously. american has been in a freefall since, we've all just become accustomed to the perpetual pit in our stomachs.

9/11 is the point i think most people can point to as the moment when america became completely bugfuck insane

in a complete failure of leadership in a time of legitimate fear and confusion, the american right-wing government used the loss of civilian lives as casus belli to start a war predicated on a complete lie with the sole intention of lining their own pockets. 9/11 has been invoked countless times as america's free pass to run roughshod over the middle east, eliminate personal freedoms, RUIN AIRPORTS FOREVER, and enforce a narrative of victimization in which we were attacked by people we trained and armed ourselves. it's insane how fucking bad the bush years were culturally and its honestly hard to convey to a generation that doesnt know what it was like before all of america started suffering from a gas leak. as such, the attack has come to been associated with opportunists, grifters, warhawks, racists, and the biggest monsters in modern, if not all of, history. no exaggeration.

its human nature to want to sully the sacred. for 20 years it was a surefire way to hit ANY conservatives berserk button instantly. then i guess when trump had to account for one of his classic bangers, conservatives decided they didnt give a shit any more

the older and more cynical/internet poisoned i get, the more i start to sincerely believe that the ongoing attempts to shield people from the gruesome reality of what happens to the human body during a violent death has not done much to improve the human psyche. there are plenty of (good) resources and first-hand accounts about how unhealthy it is to repeatedly expose yourself to human death (like, i dont think its good to sit on ogrish and likeleak all day. it is bad to jack it to human suffering and mutilation lol), but now we completely refuse to engage with it at all. this is the part thats complicated for me lol. i dont think people should be FORCED to look at gore. i dont think it makes you a stronger or "better" person. but exposing myself in small doses to The Horrors has given more more of a uhhhh...understanding. as someone who was a kid and lived literally 3000 miles away, the way the culture shifted around me was significantly different than on the east coast. there really is a lot of information that deserves to be known by more people as common knowledge.

dont worry im not 9/11 truthing lmfao. im talking about things like the oral history of 9/11 book which includes an account from an EMS worker who had to argue with a woman who was just lungs and a head over putting a black triage tag on her. the new york times has an enormous archive of survivor accounts detailing how, in the middle of evacuating the second tower after the first plane hit, they were told to go back to work and stay in their seats, leading to an unforgivable number of needless deaths. there's the families that refuse to accept that their loved ones are "jumpers" in attempts to identify them because jumping to your death is suicide and bars you from heaven. can you fucking imagine? the idea of being forced out of a window because of the unbearable heat and into certain death freefall is horrifying enough to even have to contemplate but to have your family members pass judgement on you for it after would be beyond mortifying.

there's a lot i think about when i think about 9/11, even when i clown on it. the man who tried so hard to climb his way to safety and fell to his death while the camera watched helplessly. the scream of the man on the phone with 911 for almost 20 minutes before the tower fell on him. the sheer, impossible to comprehend scale seen in the photos of people hanging out the windows for air. or what it felt like to see the second plane hit; the ice cold terror of realizing this was not a horrible mistake after all.

ehhh but on the other hand

youtube

lol lmfao

#9/11 #[laughing]#long post

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heinrix · 6 months

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uhh so i’ve seen a couple other people do this and i rlly wanted to lay out oz’s lore/backstory in a post so that it’s clearer lol, especially considering i allude to it in my fics a lot

general info:

Ozadius Devries (He/They), 27 years old. Levistus Tiefling, formerly Dispater Tiefling. Gay boything, he’s trans but likes to be funky with his gender sometimes Class: Oath of Conquest Paladin lvl. 12, Champion to the Lord of the Hells Stats: STR 20. DEX 8. CON 16. INT 14. WIS 10. CHA 18 Alignment & Background: Neutral good with neutral evil tendencies. Charlatan Proficiencies: Athletics (+9), Insight (+4), Deception (+8), Intimidation (+8), Persuasion (+8) Notable Features: Legacy of The Ash King (Resistance to both fire and cold damage), Boon of The Abyss (In place of radiant damage, your Divine Smites now do force damage) Weapons used: • Act One - Maul of Brutal Justice (Invoke Duel. Whispering a target’s name into the mace, if the target comes within 30 feet of you, you and the target are stuck within 30 feet of each other. You may not stray 30 feet from one another until one of you is dead. You gain advantage on attack rolls.) • Act Two - Halberd of Vigilance (Sentinel Weapon. Gain a +1 bonus to initiative rolls and Advantage on Perception Ability Checks. Adroit Reflexes. When you make an Attack Roll as a reaction, you make it with Advantage.) • Act Three - Obsidian Sword (Devour Soul. Whenever you use it to reduce a creature to 0 hit points, the sword slays the creature and devours its soul, sending it directly to the Lord of the Hells, unless it is a construct or an undead. A creature whose soul has been devoured by the Obsidian Sword can be restored to life only by a Wish spell.)

Background

Ozadius Devries grew up on the Amber Peninsula of the Exhalian Empire in a large port city, Vetalonia. He was born to a pair of tieflings, Lev (his mother) and Carrion (his father) Devries, however his parents were not eager to abandon their lives as pirates and gave Oz away to the first couple that wanted him at the ripe age of 5. Luckily for Oz, his adoptive parents, a firbolg by the name of Beric (father) and a seldarine drow, Triss (mother) truly wanted him as their son and cherished and loved him.

Growing up as a tiefling in a densely human populated city was difficult for him as the children around him would tease and bully him for his appearance.

Needless to say, Oz did not have many friends when he was a child, except for one other boy, a half-orc the same age as Oz named Astolfo. Whenever Oz was in trouble Astolfo seemed to always be there, defending Oz and beating up the older kids who picked on him until their late teens. Oz had feelings for Astolfo but never had the courage to vocalize them, though the two boys had kissed they never mentioned it as anything other than fun. But when they turned 18, Astolfo had told Oz he was leaving Vetalonia to study the arcane, chasing after this one specific warlock pact Oz knew he had been obsessed with for the past year; Oz took this as abandonment and a personal slight.

For the next four years, Oz worked at the local brothel, honing his abilities in understanding people and their wants and needs; this led to Oz becoming quite adept in manipulating people and robbing rich nobles blind with little effort. In those years of Oz trying to forget Astolfo, trying to move on, he simply couldn’t and dropped everything in his life to go find his best friend; this took Oz on an arduous journey, retracing Astolfo’s footsteps into finding access to the patron he became a part of. Through a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, Oz found out that Astolfo had died but not truly, he was in some sort of timeless pocket dimension where the warlock “patron” existed but it was not a singular patron but thousands of minds of previous warlocks who had usurped the original patrons power and now shares it with those who desire to dole out the will of the warlocks within the pocket dimension.

Oz joined this pact of innumerable minds in order to speak with Astolfo and convince him that resurrection and living a normal life with Oz was worth more than his obsession with this convoluted warlock patron.

In his travels, Oz came across a group of adventurer’s: Penny, a monster hunter in debt to local lords, Zuul, a goliath barbarian dedicated to the god of war, Akla, an orc barbarian whose sole purpose for adventuring was to gather items for a girl she had a crush on, and Sippa, a kobold tinkerer who wanted nothing but to explore the surface for the first time in his life. Oz threw his lot in with this band, seeing as his chances of survival with a group were higher than on his own. He grew, over a few weeks, to appreciate all of the weirdos that surrounded him but one thing led to another and several bad decisions were made that led to the entire group becoming wanted by the Exhalian Empire for treason; Akla had gotten physical with guards that were trying to arrest them for suspicions that they had stolen military property (to which they had), a domino effect occurred, Oz nearly died if it were not for the demon contract scroll he had swiped off of Penny the night before and so Ozadius Devries, warlock to The Legion was now oathbound to a sloth demon vying for the Throne of the Hells. A misfortunate side effect of Oz’s newfound allegiance was that Astolfo was now alive, entirely against his will, and Oz wanted nothing more than to right his wrong, to make up for what he had done to Astolfo.

After several weeks, nearly a month, of travel the group had not realized they were being followed by a vengeful group of guards from the previous city, hellbent on killing the treasonous adventurers. In the dead of night, while both Oz and Sippa were on watch, a volley of gunfire sprang upon them from the treeline, waking the rest of the camp with a start. A paladin, in his holy wroth, went after Penny, to which Oz tried his best to protect her but as a paladin himself he knew the strength of which his and this other man’s swings of the sword held. She was struck down in front of him, mercury armor of little use to her as radiant energy slashed right through it and he turned to Oz next. He fought, bloody and trading equal blows but with the help of the paladin’s friends, their whole camp was slain on that moonlit night in the wilderness. Monacco was the only reason Oz survived as he was bleeding out in the dirt, the demon stitched his wounds together, alongside the help of Sippa who had hid within the brush the entire fight. Both the tiefling and the terrified kobold ran, leaving behind their friends mangled corpses.

A day or two after their escape, Zuul was resurrected by his god and Akla was resurrected by the Fey heart she had been carrying. Penny was less fortunate but they did gain a new companion, one they had known since meeting Penny, her sentient mercury armor had consumed her corpse and grown to be able to shift into a human visage with most if not all of Penny’s memories; they called themselves Merc. Oz and Merc would go on to become quite good friends, while the rest of the group still treated Merc as if they were a tool to be used rather than someone sentient and living.

The general attitude of the group toward Merc culminated one day as they visited Sippa’s home city in hopes of resurrecting Penny via the manmade god that Sippa’s home worshiped. Once there, things went downhill, fast as Merc had run off into the city while the rest of the group went to visit the tower containing the god, Deus. Upon talking to Deus, it offered Oz the chance to ask it a question alongside the resurrection of their friend and he had been wondering something for some time at that point. “Am I Oz?” So much had changed about him: his appearance, his attitude, his morality, his goals. Was he who he had always been or was that Oz truly dead and gone. Deus answered him honestly, telling him that it is natural for people to have changed through traumatic experiences. However, Oz did not contain a soul but rather it was in the hells and he was merely puppetting his own body. This was, obviously, incredibly disconcerting to Oz and he sort of shut down, thinking of himself as a puppet all this time and that he was just the embodiment of his contract with Monacco; he didn’t possess his body, it wasn’t his nor had it been since he took that icy hand in the darkness.

In the time that Oz was having an existential crisis, Penny was resurrected and Merc had broken into the tower and attempted to consume Deus, having grown larger than the companions had ever seen them; they had been wandering all over the city eating every magic item they could find. All of the companions except for Oz began attacking Merc and Oz touched Merc - the only way to communicate with them now - and begged Merc to not consume Deus but Merc just asked Oz “why?” he had been selfish in the past many times, why couldn’t Merc, who had done so much to help the group, be selfish this one time. Oz was dumbfounded and abstained in the fight, simply holding his hand onto his friend's mercury ooze body. But hearing his friends cries of help as Merc fought back, acid and bile from their own body burning and singing his companions as they continued to consume a god, Oz stood, ripping his hand away from Merc and bringing up his maul and whispering to the magic within the weapon, “I’m sorry, Merc.” Swinging down with his hellish-backed fury, he fought a monster he called friend.

They were losing, as Merc had grown stronger and was draining Deus of its magical divinity; Oz saw this and prodded at Monacco within his mind, begging to teleport just him and Merc to the nearest portal to the hells that had been popping up since a war was waging between the surrounding empires. His patron granted this wish and soon it was just Oz and Merc, surrounded by the heat of Avernus as Oz, running low on energy continued to pummel the ooze as Merc began to consume the nearest magical artifact, Oz. He felt mercury begin to enter every orifice of his face, sliding down his throat as he gripped onto his maul, hoping against hope that each blow would be the last. The heat and brimstone stink of Avernus overwhelmed Oz as the ooze began to sink into the corners of his eyes, into his ears, and up his nose; he began to cry, welling tears pushing past wet metal as he thought of all his wrongs, all the people he had hurt. Perhaps this was deserved, this death on the edge of the material plane and the hells, alone, with only a friend to guide him back to his soul.

But the aching jaws of death had never been for Oz as he was yanked away from Merc’s grasp and shunted somewhere, somewhere foreign and sticky and smelling of thick iron.

#his backstory is so long cause sm happened in the campaign😭im sorry a lot of its just word vomit #anyway *points at him* my boy!#ozadius

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brostateexam · 1 year

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Comedy writers have been telling the “Who Jackie” story in their offices, at table reads, and in Sweetgreens for nearly 30 years. It started circulating in 1995 among employees at the Radford lot in Studio City, but it eventually made its way onto other lots and other writers’ rooms, until winking references began popping up on sitcoms like My Name Is Earl and30 Rock.

“I can’t remember not knowing that story,” says Modern Family creator Steve Levitan, who invoked “Who Jackie” in his 2022 Hulu series Reboot.

“That story has been told, or at least referenced, in every writers’ room I’ve been in,” says former Corporate showrunner Jake Fogelnest, who once made “Who Jackie” T-shirts for his friends.

“It’s a story that’s both mythological and just within reach,” says former 30 Rock writer Vali Chandrasekaran. “Because it feels like it’s existed forever, but also, everyone sort of knows someone who was there.”

Like all the best stories, no two people tell it exactly alike. Certainly not the 12 former Roseanne writers and 20 other comedians and TV creators who were interviewed for this journey through sitcom lore to determine what happened on that day in 1995. Sometimes “Who Jackie” is a long, winding tale full of flourishes; sometimes it spans a few spartan sentences; sometimes it’s the Ghost Variation. Specifics vary around details like the writer’s name, his relationship to Barr, and how long he’d been staffed at the show without being aware of the Jackie character. But the story always has the same punch line — blaccent optional. It’s like “The Aristocrats” meets Rashomon: Each retelling reveals nearly as much about the person tweaking it as it does about the story itself. Even when it’s coming from the mythical David himself.

#long reads #*racism

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majorbaby · 1 year

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bit of a confession: i'm not too fond of "trapper thinks hawkeye is dead" because there's an implied "... and that's why he didn't write" which assumes that this is canon, and it isn't. We don't know if he wrote. It's left intentionally ambiguous.

I think it is valid to headcanon him as having not written because he thought Hawkeye was dead though, and I see why tbh because it's easy enough to interpret Trapper's whole unquestioning support of Hawkeye as his being a very devoted and loving friend. Why would Trapper do all of that just to not write to Hawkeye? It kind of only makes sense with such a drastic explanation and well, The Late Captain Pierce happens so soon after Trapper leaves. I get it.

"Isn't that splitting hairs?" Well, I think it was a deliberate writing choice to not tie up that loose end with Trapper. No closure for the audience, no closure for Hawkeye.

GFA delivers closure to everyone. Actually, this is why I think GFA is one of the best executed finales of all time. It's very well acted and directed and written yes, but it's not without its flaws, some of which I think are glaring. And just the format of it alone means it's hard to analyze as an "episode of MASH". There are things about MASH that imo, do not translate well from a 20 minute format to a feature-length film.

But before this turns into the Trial of GFA, let me say the reason I say GFA is a great finale is because it is a proper farewell to the audience from the characters, all their loose threads tied up. This is something we were denied when Wayne left the show. Confirming whether or not Trapper wrote undercuts the non-goodbye, just like confirmation that the 4077th including BJ and Hawkeye ever see each other again undercuts their goodbye in GFA.

Trapper is invoked by the narrative three times and each time it pointedly does not create emotional stakes for Hawkeye. The first time is in PoA, where the person who has the biggest emotional response to the Trapper character is BJ (huge L, grow up BJ). It's BJ who has the worse reaction to the destruction of the still, in what I personally think is the only redeeming moment for him in that episode, when he shows remorse for having damaged something he knew was precious to Hawkeye in part because Hawkeye built it with Trapper. I don't think his response to Trapper being home is a Trapper-exclusive thing, because BJ also says he's jealous of Radar being home.

In Depressing News, Hawkeye isn't torn up about Trapper when he mentions him being replaced by BJ, he's torn up about how the military dehumanizes people and views them as disposable. Even if we are to believe Hawkeye is shown to be still mourning Trapper's exit, it ought to be nothing compared to the grief he must feel over Henry's death. And that is without even considering that Hawkeye is demonstrably happy for Trapper in Check-Up. So it is a big stretch for me to believe that this scene is about Hawkeye ruminating on Trapper.

Finally the Joker is Wild. Hawkeye has some fond words for Trapper but the point of this episode apparently is that Hawkeye has been tried by a jury of his peers, found guilty of being The Worst, Actually and should suffer for his crimes. The other point of the episode is that Trapper and the early years are also the worst, which is ironic considering how Joker is at best, MASH as a pale imitation of itself.

I lied, there is a fourth mention of Trapper, in GFA but before I get to that, I want to mention the weird snub in As Time Goes By. It is technically a snub because they mention Henry and not Trapper but let the record reflect that this episode is also MASH as a pale imitation of itself and on rewatch I think Trapper would have hated the sentimentalization of his time in Korea. Idk what BJ and Hawkeye especially are doing in this one. The point of this episode is to invoke fond and soft memories of cast members past, so my theory is that they couldnt mention Trapper for this reason. Maybe they still hate Wayne or something but from what I understand it as Mclean they were properly annoyed with.

Okay fourth, in GFA, when Hawkeye for the first time since Welcome to Korea expresses some hurt over Trapper's exit. Or does he?:

"BJ is not really what's bothering him" threw me when I first saw the script for GFA because i absolutely thought he was bothered by BJ leaving initially without saying goodbye. But whatever, point here is that if he's not upset about BJ, then there's no way he's upset about Trapper. Even before seeing this i found that line somewhat... well, if Hawkeye hadn't been through what he had been through and wasn't feeling so vulnerable and didn't have Margaret's shoulder to cry on prompting him to be more forthcoming than he might be otherwise... then I might call Hawkeye's lament melodramatic.

So all these examples show that I don't think the show was at all interested in giving us Hawkeye dealing with his feelings about Trapper post the first of Welcome to Korea. And you can imagine that had they confirmed he had written, or hadn't this would have engaged Hawkeye in that way.

I'm further convinced by the scene that didn't make into the show where Sidney asks Hawkeye if he'd heard from answer and Hawkeye has this infuritatingly vague response "He sent me a nail file in a cupcake". In theory Alan Alda's delivery might've swayed us one way or another but I can also imagine him saying it like a joke, of which he has no shortage of, that still wouldn't make it clearer.

The fact that they cut it altogether seems very deliberate. They did not want to talk about Trapper in a way that gave us any hints as to what their relationship (or lack thereof) might have been like after Wayne left the show.

And that's pretty clever, because it gives further further significance to Hawkeye's insistence that he and BJ have their goodbye. Hawkeye doubts they'll remain as close as they were in Korea once he and BJ go home, BJ clings to the idea that they will. Ultimately we do not know if they will. When asked if they might see each other again, Alan Alda maintained the ambiguity, (paraphrase) "they might, if we wrote it" which I personally see as "no" because they did not write it. But there is also "they might". It's ambiguous. Sucks doesn't it? But that is what fanfiction is for.

#more on why i personally dont love the headcanon 'trapper thinks hawkeye is dead'#but that's more about preference and not my analysis of the text #re: mash

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hands-of-the-king · 1 year

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Truthfully, few things have infuriated me more than having to go into the guts of this game and struggle to make it into something that it wants to be, only to fall short and realize that even if the framework IS better than it once was, the fact that it still requires six hour sessions to get anything done is a massive flaw.

I’ve been slowly falling off the LANCER design train as more and more stuff in the community has gotten more wildly toxic and echo-chamber-y, with outright bullying and beating people over the head with established mode of conduct being expected in the general discord.

Small little rant below. As always, if you’ve had fun playing LANCER? Hell yeah, good on you! None of this is pointed at you, nor the time you’ve spent enjoying the game.

TL;DR: Game’s mechanically imbalanced, dissonant writing has drawn in would-be liberals, LGBT, and facists all into the same community, without actually taking a stance one way or the other, despite how much Union is “Post-Scarcity Utopia.”

Between certain community ideations of balance versus what the numbers supply, there’s no pleasing people. Official content comes out that teaches players that their big fun gun can be no-sold once each round (Solstice Rain, LL0). That NPCs get to do More Cool Stuff than them (No Room for a Wallflower, Act 1′s NPC additions, notably the Lurker compared to the Balor). That they’re going to spend hours and hours playing the game and advancing their pilots, for what?

To play a Minotaur next to a Tortuga who has three times as much impact on the game than they do? Every sitrep in the game is solved by killing things better. Whoever takes Nuclear Cavalier, Overpower Caliber, and brings the biggest gun that shoots the most will Win Better(tm). Woe betide you if you want to be a hacker, for your option is H0r_OS System Upgrade I.

Skirmish is the King of the Game. The Most Damage per the Most Action will beat out ticking up 2 heat at a time each and every time.

I’ve spent the past three years playing and running this game, and the past one and a half trying to make it a real Tabletop RPG. That invokes narrative in the midst of the tabletop combat. That creates memorable moments backed by mechanics of clashes and ace maneuvers and PILE DRIVING TWO SEPARATE MECHS OFF OF A SKYSCRAPER.

I’ve pushed the system to its limits, torn out every gut and bone I can and readjusted it all. And still I’m not happy with it.

And I think it’s that the very foundation just isn’t geared to make a snappy mech game that makes you feel ‘Mud & Lasers.’ You get in the cockpit, and you get ready to stare at the grid for the next six hours. Or you stop at 3 or 4 and get ready to do it again next week. You can dress it up, you can use the prettiest of maps. But it’s not evocative. You play, you roll, you miss your shot or do piddly damage, and that quick action was a 12th of the actions you will take across the entire six rounds. You tune off for the next 20 minutes as everything else goes and then its your turn again. You perk up when your name is called because something is shooting you, and you have to readjust to every single change in th situation as you await your turn, hoping that you can still do your seven-step plan to ensure optimal gameplay.

You’re outgunned, but you’re tough enough to survive it and weather it. Or, you’re not. At which point, kick back and wait until the combat’s over, because ‘optimally’ you don’t want to risk your pilot like that.

All the while, people with wide eyes who want to play a cool little idea they had just kind of go ‘oh...’ when anything more than a cakewalk drifts their way. I’ve taught Lancer to so many groups by now, and it’s gotten to the point where it’s hard to recommend it.

Harder still, because customizing and tuning your mech is something that I’ve been chasing for years since Armored Core V came out.

Anyways, if you want the feeling of satisfying tactical combat in half the time, Apocalypse Frame is worth a look. It’s missing the crunchy customization, but I’m hoping to come up with something soon that can help with that.

If you come into my askbox trying to defend the mechanics of LANCER, I’m sorry to tell you that it is neither a tabletop RPG nor a wargame, but a thing that straddles the most infuriating line between the two to ever exist.

#Rambling and Ranting and whatever the hell else #Sorry for this #It's been building up for like; a WHILE

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denimbex1986 · 20 days

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'...with Ripley, the writer-director Steven Zaillian does the unthinkable and unmentionable, he shoots in high contrast black and white and stretches his drama long, and some might say thinly, over a total of eight episodes. But although the series has the feel of a younger generation in terms of its directorial emphases, Zaillian is technically an old man, probably in Shakespearean terms in stage six of the seven ages of man: the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, with spectacles on nose and pouch on side; yes, he is indeed 71 years young but with an impressive and substantial track record behind him: an Oscar for the screenplay of Schindler’s List and a successful collaboration with Martin Scorsese in Gangs of New York, amongst much else. This surely allowed him to basically dictate his terms to Netflix, which included engaging a genius of a lighting cameraman, Robert Elswit, who lit the masterpiece, There Will be Blood. Indeed, Ripley runs the risk of the camerawork overtaking the content and this is an ongoing near-run thing.

But just as Citizen Kane in anyone else’s hands but Orson Welles would have first and foremost been praised for its cinematography, as indeed might Charles Laughton’s only great stab at directing, The Night of the Lonely Hunter, the intense collaboration of director and cameraman in the case of Ripley pays multiple dividends, even on the smaller screen. It invokes the Italian milieu of Rome in the 60s, of La Dolce Vita, Visconti and Fellini, but not curiously the one director who experimented seriously with documentary style shooting- Roberto Rossellini. whose Rome Open City was shot in grainy black and white. Zaillian etches everything in exquisite detail, wet streets, rain falling on a terrace, pens and cigarette lighters all dance to his sombre tune. This series would look even more spectacular projected onto a large screen.

Interestingly, Zaillian’s work has split opinion right down the middle, with a rave from The New York Times and a thumbs pointed firmly earthwards from The New Statesman. Both draw comparisons with previous versions, with the latter much in favour of Anthony Minghella’s The Talented Mr Ripley, and being much more impressed with the colourful sun-drenched scenes than the rain soaked black and white ones.

One question worth asking of this latest effort as well as the best of the previous ones, is what on earth is the attraction of Ripley, almost always portrayed as a blank canvas, to both actors and directors? I think it is precisely for that very reason, that Ripley can be anything or anyone to whoever is contemplating him, and this metaphor of the blank canvas is cleverly taken up by Zaillian, making the subject of Ripley’s first murder, Dickie (Johnny Flynn), an amateur painter. Ripley is not Ripley in anyone and everyone, the great difference is that when he acts, he does so decisively without pity, regret or concern other than an obsession with clearing up any mess he may inadvertently leave behind. If anyone wants to learn how to lie, cheat, steal, seduce and ultimately kill, Highsmith’s novel can provide a comprehensive training manual for the uninitiated.

Most of you literature and film buffs will be familiar with the story, so I intended just to concentrate on elements of the series which seem to me to bend and occasionally break rules to considerable effect. To begin with, during the first two episodes at least nothing really happens, and that is for approaching two hours screen time. But the almost hypnotic engagement that the cinematography engenders allows us to take time with the characters as they slowly reveal more about themselves. Interestingly, Zaillian does not cast 20 or even 30-year-olds in the main parts, as imagined at least by Highsmith in her original novel. Instead, he opts for Andrew Scott (Ripley) at 47 and Dickie (Johnny Flynn) at 41. They are in fact middle-aged, but as portrayed by Scott and Flynn appear younger, but at the same time, almost ageless. This gives an additional twist to the strange ambience in which the drama takes place. Characters take much longer to frame their thoughts, to react and to initiate actions. It is as if they are somehow under water, and it is water which is the most intrusive element in this version (as opposed to sunlight in Minghella’s). Right up to the point of the first murder which occurs on top of, and within water. In Zaillian’s world, the streets are always wet and his characters frequently find themselves in baths, seas or simply the victims of relentless rain clouds.

All in all, this is very clever stuff, and not just from the director, but the writer as well. It is an object lesson in how to balance form and content and to reference parallel elements obliquely and very cleverly. Caravaggio is mentioned and his work shown to us quite frequently. Why, one wonders? Simple. Caravaggio is a painter who became a murderer; Tom Ripley is a murderer who became a painter.'

#Patricia Highsmith #The Talented Mr Ripley #Anthony Minghella #Steven Zaillian #Andrew Scott #Gangs of New York #Schindler's List #Caravaggio #Robert Elswit #Johnny Flynn #Dickie Greenleaf

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metalsongoftheday · 1 year

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Wednesday, April 12: Isen Torr, “The Theomasochist”

R.I.P. Tony Taylor (d. 2010)

Shadow Kingdom reissued Isen Torr’s Mighty & Superior EP in 2008, about 5 years after its original release and seemingly after the band’s plans to release 2 other limited edition mini-albums fell through. It was a bit of a shame, as the wonderfully titled “The Theomasochist” was the sort of trad metal epic that could’ve taken hold with more time had the group stuck around and put in the effort. As it was, the track ambled and chugged over 8 minutes with a clearly defined purpose that kept it from feeling overlong, and the distinct Manilla Road vibe gave the tune an appealing shagginess. There was something specific about this kind of Z-grade metal, especially as it invoked Z-grade metal from 20 years prior, so it would’ve actually been interesting and fun to hear Isen Torr keep at it.

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benniejetson · 1 year

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february 17, 2023 - 12:20 am

right now i’m listening to ‘glue song’ by beabadoobee. for a while prior to its release, i swore i wouldn’t listen to it, because i knew it would invoke certain feelings from me. it’s the same with other forms of media; i tend to avoid them because i’m scared of feeling emotions, or triggering memories. it’s become so normal in my life that i tend to avoid even the most random shows, movies, or music. i’m not sure if it’s all part of my mental illness(es), or if i’m just weird like that. but, let’s go back to how i feel right now. i’m sad.

i’ve been thirsty for romance since i was a child. unhealthy, i know. i blame my separated parents. i’ve had several relationships, and almost relationships during my late teenage, to young adult years... and yet only two people still stick out to me. N, and L. maybe it’s just the hopeless romantic in me who’s still hurt by the amount of ‘almosts’ and ‘what-ifs’ i’ve collected from both... i’m not even sure which one hurts more.

my two muses. the amount of poems i’ve written for the two of them is insane. and it’s funny because i only ever got to experience physical affection from one of them -- L. first kisses and such. our story wasn’t pretty, and maybe nostalgia has tinted it warm shade of rose.. but i’ve recently began wearing old rose on my lips. it suits me.

it’s so hard for me to form proper connections anymore.. everyone wants to fuck. everyone expects something from everyone else. and i, for one, cannot even bother to try anymore.. i just don’t have the energy for it. am i the problem? maybe. crucify me.

tonight, i’m lonely. listening to ‘glue song’ by beabadoodee on repeat. i know i’ve given up and accepted my fate of being alone, but it’s so cold out here.

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apartofeverywhere · 1 year

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Maine

I spent the most beautiful month in Maine. I saw the leaves turn from green to vibrant oranges and, when I left, most of the trees were bare. The glory days of Maine! This place inspired me to want to start learning some skills in photography, since everywhere you look is art. The coast was gorgeous, the trails and rivers were pristine and, holy jesus, the lobstah.

Acadia is one of my favorite National Parks that I've ever been. The Precipice Trail had me scrambling up rocks and climbing up metal bars. Easily one of the most fun hikes of all time. It took only a couple hours but the rewards were incredible with a almost 360 view of the ocean and little islands on the coast of Bar Harbor. And I was sore.

The state has a definite eery vibe, a constant reminder that the winter is looming and the forests are ancient and wise. Or at least that is the dramatic feeling I felt like it invoked lol.. and thank you to Steven King for delivering so hard on keeping that feeling alive. His house looks like a literal haunted mansion, and he made my day by being home, imagining him typing away at his typewriter (I know he wasn't, but common, he was). The people were reserved but friendly, maybe more old school than I'm used to. I sometimes would look around and realize I was the youngest person in the room by 20 years. But maybe I fit right in, since one of my favorite parts about Maine was making a fire and doing the most to feel cozy lol..

Portland had a cool atmosphere. I'm here for anywhere that prides themselves on being a foodie city. Just don't try Mexican food. Actually, the sushi wasn't that good either! Wth. Anyway, it is probably one of the cutest little cities ever. It has everything you want or need, but in a compact little space. I love New England for its old buildings and history. It makes everything feel quaint and connects the present with the past.

#travel #travel photography #traveling #nomadlife #portland maine #wanderlust #explore #digital nomad

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jessysfrenchlitblog · 2 years

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5 Interesting French Nonfiction Books

1.Seven Letters from Paris: A Memoir by Samantha Verant

At age 40, Samantha Verant's life is falling apart-she's jobless, in debt, and feeling stuck... until she stumbles upon seven old love letters from Jean-Luc, the sexy Frenchman she'd met in Paris when she was 19. With a quick Google search, she finds him, and both are quick to realize that the passion they felt 20 years prior hasn't faded with time and distance.

Samantha knows that jetting off to France to reconnect with a man that she only knew for one sun-drenched, passion-filled day is crazy-but it's the kind of crazy she's been waiting for her whole life. (Goodreads)

2. How to make a French family: A Memoir of Love, Food, and Faux Pas by Samantha Verant

The heartwarming, hilarious story of the culture clashes and faux pas that add up to one happy French family .

When Samantha is given a second chance at love at the age of forty, she moves to southwestern France, thinking she's prepared for her new role in life as an instant American wife and stepmom. It turns out, though, that making a French family takes more than just good intentions and a quick lesson in croissant-baking.

Even while suffering from culture shock and struggling to communicate with and parent her ten-year-old stepson and thirteen-year-old stepdaughter in a culture drastically different from her own, Samantha is determined to adapt to her adopted homeland—because when love and a new life is on the line, giving up isn't an option.(Goodreads)

3. A moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

Featuring a personal foreword by Patrick Hemingway, Ernest’s sole surviving son, and an introduction by grandson of the author, Seán Hemingway, editor of this edition, the book also includes a number of unfinished, never-before-published Paris sketches revealing experiences that Hemingway had with his son, Jack, and his first wife Hadley. Also included are irreverent portraits of literary luminaries, such as F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ford Maddox Ford, and insightful recollections of Hemingway’s own early experiments with his craft.

Widely celebrated and debated by critics and readers everywhere, the restored edition of A Moveable Feast brilliantly evokes the exuberant mood of Paris after World War I and the unbridled creativity and unquenchable enthusiasm that Hemingway himself epitomized. (Amazon)

4. The Treason Of The Intellectuals by Julien Benda

The "treason" of which Benda writes is the betrayal by the intellectuals of their unique vocation. He criticizes European intellectuals for allowing political commitment to insinuate itself into their understanding of the intellectual vocation, ushering the world into "the age of the intellectual organization of political hatreds." From the savage flowering of ethnic and religious hatreds in the Middle East and throughout Europe today to the mendacious demand for political correctness and multiculturalism on college campuses everywhere in the West, the treason of the intellectuals continues to play out its unedifying drama. (Goodreads)

5. In Praise of Love by Alain Badiou

Love without risk is an impossibility, like war without death. Caught between consumerism and casual sexual encounters devoid of passion, love today - without the key ingredient of chance - is in mortal danger. Alain Badiou proposes a vision of love as an adventure of the individual.

Liberal and libertine reductions of love to instant pleasure and non-commitment bite the dust as Badiou invokes a supporting cast of thinkers from Plato to Lacan via Karl Marx to create a new narrative of romance, relationships and sex - one that does not fear love. (Goodreads)

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moki-dokie · 2 years

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Netflix Cowboy Bebop Review (From Someone Who Loved the Anime and Watched it an Unhealthy Amount of Times)

Kinda tired of seeing these reviews from the people who either A) haven’t actually ever watched the anime yet still want to compare the two or B) saw the anime once 20 years ago and think they’re an expert based on that alone or C) binged the whole show all at once and didn’t actually take the time to truly watch everything and digest the story. I watched this show every. single. day. for fucking YEARS. until Toonami finally took it off the air. And then I bought the DVD set and watched that constantly. I thoroughly love this series and very few animes have ever been able to be close to as good.

People are allowed their opinions, of course. Even true diehard fans aren’t always going to like adaptations of the original. But they can respect it, which makes a huge difference. Anyway, lets get into this shall we?

Obviously, there will be spoilers.

I’ll start with the Cons just to get them out of the way. There aren’t many.

Vicious: This is probably everyone’s biggest gripe and for good reason. He is the main antagonist of Spike (And kind of by proxy, to all the main characters) and even though in the original series he wasn’t actually on screen much, his presence was always very much there and very important to the plotline. Vicious is his name incarnate. He is cold, calculating, ruthless, smart as a whip, a man of few words, deadly in combat, and extremely level-headed to the point it may seem like he’s emotionless and unbothered by anything ever. Netflix’s version absolutely was not this. In any way at all. This version of Vicious was almost... comical. A parody of what a villain ought to be and it’s honestly a damn shame. The casting was so very wrong for him that it kind of blows my mind. They got it so very right with 99% of everyone else. Not only is his look completely off but it seemed like the hair/makeup department kind of gave up after dying his hair. The dark eyebrows and chest hair (also, why tf did he need to be shirtless so much. ugh.) were just a very weird contrast to the ratty silver hair. His personality is utterly wrong. This Vicious is hot-tempered, has anger issues, blatantly abusive (both physically and emotionally and like more in a wife beater kind of way rather than just a cold heartless killer kind of way), talks way too much, and is easily and frequently bothered. By like, everything. I would have much rather of had casting similar to Hugh Laurie, Jeremy Irons, Rhys Meyers, or Alexander Skarsgard. Rhys, with the right hair/makeup crew, could have been stunning as Vicious. But alas. Netflix’s version does not have the same lingering threat in the background. Nothing about him invokes fear. I’m so very disappointed with how hard they failed on such a hugely important character.

Ed: I only have a few issues with Netflix’s Ed. 1. She isn’t POC. Ed is brown in the anime, full stop. Ed’s father is HELLA brown. Ed is Brazillian-coded and this has been known pretty much since she made her first appearance. Sure, its always been ambiguous... but it’s ambiguously brown. And there is a big difference when erasing a POC vs adding one. 2. The actress tries a little too hard with the over-the-top Edness. It felt really... weird. Inorganic. 3. She’s older, or at least bigger, than Ed should be, which makes the forced wild-child behavior even more out of place. Idk, just feels like the casting for this one was a bit off? doesn’t ruin the character by any means, just feels a little clunky.

Gren: Idk what to say about this one. Gren has always been my favorite non-main character. I loved how tragic his story was. I loved how smooth and suave he was. I loved how he came to accept who he was forced to become. And Gren was the first time I had ever seen someone who could be considered intersex in any form of entertainment media. He was a very profound character at the time and very unique. I always wished he could have lived and joined the Bebop family - he would have fit right in. I understand that the trope of his character hasn’t exactly aged well, but that doesn’t take away from the fact it was a tremendous step forward in the 90s and I wish at least part of that could have been preserved. Netflix’s Gren... don’t get me wrong, I love that character as well! But it isn’t the Gren we know in the slightest. It’s just some dude with Gren’s name. I fucking adore him, but I’d rather he be a different character.

Fighting Choreography/Stunts: They could have spent a little more time on the fighting scenes. Some of them are a little clunky and obviously taken step-by-step. Not terrible, not fantastic. Really could have done a better job with flying stunts especially. I know it’s supposed to be campy to a degree but jfc they might as well have just left the wire in for some of those shots.

Camera focus: Not sure wtf was going on with the focus in most of the shots, but it was like, strangely blurry outside of the main focal point. Like if the camera was focused on Jet, but Spike was beside him and talking, Spike would be just sliiiiightly blurred/out of focus. Just annoying more than anything.

And thats it, really. Julia/Vicious bugs me just a bit, but not enough to really be a con. Just kind of like, ehhhh they could have gotten to the same ending place without that, yknow?

Now, onto the Pros.

Respecting the Source Material: I have never seen an adaptation done with so much care, diligence, research, and all out respect as this was. Say what you will, but everyone tried their damn best to not only recreate some of the most iconic scenes, but to do the series justice with the new twists and fresh stories. From framing the shots, to costuming, to set design, and of course to the music. This is how you honor the source material you’re adapting. I think, best of all, the campyness of everything remained. Bebop is a fucking cool anime, but you absolutely cannot deny how stupidly silly it can be as well. I enjoy they kept that alive. It’s hard for it to translate into live action without getting cringey (and certainly, in some parts it is) and I’d say on the grand scale they acheived just the right amount of camp.

Music: Bruh. What the fuck else can I say other than, as expected from Yoko and the Seatbelts... THIS FUCKS. I am 1000000% going to own this very lengthy soundtrack that I hope is going to be multi-disc like the original.

CGI: I’m actually very extremely pleased with the graphics. Yes, many times you can blatantly tell they’re greenscreening something but the level of detail that went into this shit is stunning. The ships are fucking spot on. The planets each feel unique and look realistic while honoring the original designs. The space shit like billboards and whatnot are badass. The astral gates look even cooler than the anime’s. Honestly, big fuckin kudos to the VFX team. My one and ONLY complaint is that they didn’t edit out Cho’s contacts in post production. Very small complaint, and most people don’t even know to look for them. But when you’ve worked in eye care before they stand out like a sore thumb.

Set Design: It baffles me how they made the interior of the bebop look EXACTLY like it does in the anime. like holy fucking shiiiiiit. I adore the mixing of real, actual, authentic 80s/90s technology into so many things. I can’t express how much I love how so much tech is still analog in some way. Every room we’re taken into feels like a place you could walk into today, or went to 20 years ago. It feels so familiar. And hell, even the outside scenes look cool as fuck. and as I’ve mentioned before, all the places we’re taken to feel very unique. Considering a huge portion of these sets were likely built in studios with only a handful of scenes being on location somewhere, I really gotta hand it to them.

Diverse Casting: Aside from our main characters, I love just how many side, minor, and background characters are so very diverse. Not just ehtnicities, but body types, age, all spectrums of gender, accents, ect. It really cements how intermingled humanity has become since leaving Earth.

Ein: I know it’s a little silly to sing the praises of a canine actor but listen. The fact they used a real dog instead of doing some bullshit cgi dog is worthy of praise. Not only that but that was a VERY well trained dog. You know how a lot of times you can very obviously tell there’s a handler directly behind the camera coaxing the dog into doing whatever it should be doing? Yeah, I very rarely got that from this pup. Very good job from a very good boi.

Spike, Jet, and Faye: Honestly there’s not much to say about them because they all fuckin kicked ass. They all felt so much like the actual characters. They had such chemistry and charisma. Loved everything about them. I know a lot of people got butthurt that Faye wasn’t the half naked femme fatale trope of the 90s, and they can die mad. I LOVED this Faye. She was every bit as sexy, fiery, witty, and cunning as the original. Plus she has the added bonus of having the mouth of a sailor. All of them being aged up feels... right, too. I mean lets be honest here. Even if Spike was in the syndicate from like age 15 to 25 and then goes 3 years on his own, I still cannot fathom him having the set of skills that he does. That kind of stuff takes decadeS to master. Or Vicious being 27 and somehow a katana master, top assassin, fought in a war for a while, ect. Shit don’t make sense. I don’t know if they actually aged any of them up but considering the actors they got, I’d assume yes. It would make way more sense for Spike to be late 30s and Jet somewhere in his 40s. Faye still looks and feels like a mid-20s something. idk man. It feels way more grounded and real this way. I could NOT imagine this same plot playing out by a bunch of baby-faced actual 20-somethings who are barely even legal adults, yknow?

Plot/Storyline: There wouldn’t be much point in simply remaking the exact same thing 1:1 throughout the entirety of the series. So, understandably, the story has some differences. I thoroughly enjoy being able to identify each episode and know which one of the anime it’s based on, yet still not quite knowing what’s going down. The overarching plot, however, takes a pretty drastic turn from the original and frankly I’m very curious to see where it goes. Julia becoming a villain (maybe??) isn’t something I expected at all, and yet it makes perfect sense after all she’s been through. And hell, maybe this is her way of eventually getting rid of the entire syndicate once and for all. No clue! Thats the wonderful thing about it! I don’t know what will happen next and I am interested in that! Furthermore, this series feels way more seamlessly connected than the original ever did. That was kind of the thing back in the 90s so that episodes could be watched independently without needing to know what was going on, but they tried doing both at the same time and admittedly it didn’t always work out. Netflix’s version does a fantastic job of making each episode have a unique thing they have to overcome while still dealing with the main plot. It seems like Season 2 is going to incorporate the Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door movie, which feels like a good move since that is about where it comes in on the timeline And dear god I hope they release it around Halloween. If we’re lucky enough to get a season 3, that will be the grand finale build up. They’ve done a great job with pacing, almost matching the anime’s. I can’t say it enough how much respect the showrunners have given to the original. You can honestly tell the writing is done to remain faithful yet give us something new. I really hope they can take the backlash with a grain of salt. Those of us who truly and honestly love this series can seriously appreciate the dedication that went into this. The story certainly feels like it was made for us, the original fans who are grown up now. I’ve been dying for more sci-fi that can be both dark/gritty AND fun/silly. Reminds me a lot of Firefly (which, lets be honest, took heavy inspiration from Cowboy Bebop) with the mixture of serious story and things that’ll make you laugh. If you can love Firefly, you can love this series.

Overall, this was a VERY enjoyable show to watch and I’ll probably watch it a few more times to try and pick up anything I may have missed in the background. I’d really recommend ignoring the folks out there whining that they butchered the show - most of them are literally basing it on clips and stills rather than, you know, actually watching it. And obviously it shouldn’t need to be pointed out that this is an adaptation and things will be different. Don’t go into it expecting everything to be exactly the same across the board.

I’d probably give this 8.5/10. There are definitely areas of improvement that I sincerely hope they work on in season 2, but this was really damn good. Mad respect to everyone who worked on the show!

#cowboy bebop #netflix cowboy bebop

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morihaus · 3 years

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Dragons

Emperor Belharza stands in the plaza of the Imperial City, his old bones aching with the chilled air of the dreary day. It has not been a long day- indeed, it is the shortest day of the year, hence the festivities that surround him- he is only weary with thought.

He stands with his family, his children, his grandchildren, and his great-grandchildren, who in turn speak with cousins and relatives of their own, from within and without the Imperial court. The youngest circle around the group, chatting away and enjoying themselves among the other children at the festival, the adults catch up with one another, sharing word from throughout the distant realms of Cyrod and of the disparate lives they've grown to lead. The old emperor smiles, listening and speaking to them in turn, and in his own time looks to his surroundings.

The Imperial Isle is bustling as ever on this occasion. The customary Festival of the Dragon has been a tradition since he was a boy-calf, apparently drawn from some old Atmoran traditions, a ceremony of appeasement for the world-eating dragon of the Nordic faith. It, as many things in Cyrodiilic society, was a compromise reached by his mother, the one time of the year that all would come to acknowledge and honor Akatosh for his patronage of the Nedes in the years of revolt. It is equally a relic of traditional Ayleid worship of Auri-El, which White-Gold had not seen for centuries at the time of her ascension to the throne. Many Nedes wished to honor Akatosh as the Aedra worshiping Ayleids had honored Auri-El as their sovereign patron, but such a thing would invoke outrage from those who leaned closer to Nordic spirituality, the honoring of Kyne and Shezarr. So this festival began in the Atmoran style, an acknowledgement of the passage of time as controlled by Akatosh, an acknowledgement of his power, an offering of appeasement, and little more. A scant thanks from an emperor with much more to say about the dragon behind closed doors.

And yet, over Belharza's long life, he had seen the somber ceremony become more and more lively, quiet reflections on the passage of time and the great cosmic acts of the divine gave way to banquets and songs to the dragon's glory, gallant tales of knight Pelinal and his liege, the so-called Saint Alessia, and the emperor began to hear old stories he'd heard from his mother as a boy; some small things changed, minor details, names and places, but what perplexed him most was the way they were told: painted in triumph, in glory, without darkness or shame.

A tug at his sleeve rouses him from his recollection, and he turns his horned head to see a lengthy procession of robed figures, swept in silken robes, white with red diamond patterns. The Brothers of Marukh, a relatively recent sect of Akatoshic worshipers, but quite the popular one. They and their forerunners have had much to do with the evolution of this festival. Belharza looks at the crowd of them, lined like a legion, stretching all the way down the street and out of site. There are more of them than last year, he remarks to himself. More than the year before, too, and the year before that as well. At the head of their procession is a woman adorned with golden jewelry, holding a lead wrapped around an old white bull. Her head is hairless, and around her scalp and face lays the dyed markings of a serpent, spiraling around her fair skin, looping over an eye and cheek, snaking down her neck and disappearing toward her breast, now hidden by her ceremonial silks. Ketra is a high priestess of the Brothers, taught by the Prophet Marukh himself. She wears a serious face, peaceful and purposeful, as she leads the bull up to a ceremonial platform, lying before a great carving of an endless serpent.

Emperor Belharza regards the animal, an old sire of many young calves, an animal chosen for this honor with great respect. Its face is noble, graying, and weary, like his own, but he, like many minotaur, sees himself as far different from everyday cattle, despite some visual similarity. And though part of him, descended from Morihaus, who is descended from Kyne, feels almost that the old thing should be given more of a fighting chance. Should a proud beast as he be offered up so placidly, without any say in the matter? Does the buck dive onto the hunter's spear? But Belharza simply shakes his head. He's grown more distanced from these Kynarethi worldviews as he's matured- he's never lost his appreciation for the wilds, for freedom and expression, but nearly a century in the Imperial Court has forced him to take on a more materialistic mindset, to belong to the world of men, of cities, of towers.

As is customary, the sacrificial bull is led onto the altar, spits of wood over a fire pit, and sorcerers of the Brothers cast calming spells on it, leaving it to stand still and somberly atop its final resting place, as though aware of the solemnity of its duty. The high priestess then moved to take a torch from her torchbearer, raising it aloft and saying her piece. She sings praise to the One Akatosh- an increasingly popular epithet- to his glorious patronage of mankind, to his divine-crafted knight, and to his anointed emperor. Many make a show of cheering and smiling in his direction, for he bears her anointed blood in his veins, and the blood of Akatosh in the jewel hung around his neck. Looking at Ketra, he cannot help but notice that she does not look to him, nor do any in the inner circle around the pit. She only turns to the bull and grips the ceremonial dagger. The weathered old sire doesn't flinch as she moves forward, reaching an arm around his neck to force him to kneel to the ground, and finally, sinks the dagger into his throat.

The old bull does not cry out, it is calm even in its death. Its blood pools out from the wound as she pulls away, dripping down into the pit below. It is joined quickly by fire from her torch, and the scent of searing flesh fills the streets, along with some jubilation.

Even so, as the smoke rises up, Belharza's eye tracks it to see the clouds, which had skirted around the edge of the horizon thus far, gather overhead. He looks down to the wall carving of the dragon, jaws open and hungry. The amulet around his neck feels heavy- it always has, but in this moment, he wonders at it.

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An hour or so on, Belharza kneels in the gardens of the dragonfire, head bowed under cloudy skies. The brazier burns silently, its flame lit by divine magic, not mundane fire. It has remained burning without rest, through day, night, winds, and rain, ever since he lit them when his reign began, nearly a century ago. All the while, he's paid the fires little mind- not ungrateful for their protection, but content to leave them be- he's put more of his attention into the greenery surrounding them; wild grasses and flowers, fruit-bearing trees and bushes, he's cultivated much of these in a plethora of wild gardens over his lengthy reign, for they've always brought him comfort and closeness with his mother. As the empire has grown more complicated and in need of greater administration, he's been afforded less opportunities to wander freely as she used to, and as he used to along with her. It is a melancholy feeling, but he has made peace with it.

He is not worried about getting caught in the rain, even as the clouds grow darker and heavier. Any time with the sky over his horns, fresh air in his lungs, he'll savor it, even if he gets drenched or stormed on in the process. His ear perks to the sound of footsteps down the cobbled path. Many footsteps, an entire procession. He casts his gaze over his shoulder, only to see robed priests, the Brothers of Marukh, fronted by their head priestess. She clutches the ceremonial dagger at her hip, freshly cleaned. Belharza cannot help from noticing the lack of any guards- he sees only men, Nede-men, nowhere does he find family nor even his minotaur kin, who have been the most loyal soldiers of his legions, and most devoted of his honor guard.

Blowing air out against his nose-hoop, he grunts as he wills himself up to his feet, turning to look down at the procession. "Brother Ketra," He says, voice deep and subtle, like distant thunder. "To what do I owe this visit?" The priestess is cold and serious, her brow set like stone above her dark eyes. "Admiring the dragonfires, Emperor?" She asks, dismissing his own question. "It is a good day to wonder at the power of Akatosh."

Belharza stares silently for a moment. He counts 20 of them, rings and amulets of enchanted glows signified them as members of her inner circle, the closest to the mouth of the prophet, his most attentive students. He recognizes some from the council, his lip turns with distaste to recall the legislature they pushed, the discriminatory reputation many sects have made for themselves.

"I suppose." He lets out a sigh, hunched down yet still towering feet taller than the Nedic woman. "This has been the one-hundredth-and-twelfth festival I have seen. It's been ninety while these fires have burned." He raises a hand to brush the stone of his amulet, the red ruby is dull in the darkness, the light of its pyre burning behind his back. "I suppose I am thinking of Akatosh, in that I am thinking about time, and its passage." Ketra takes a step forward, slyly, as though he might not notice. "Which of the One's mysteries unravels in your mind, sire?" He gives her a long look. He turns around, staring into the silent god-fire. "...I've lived a very long life. Longer than most men or minotaur. Some have made jokes of it, perhaps I'll next outlive an elf? Who can say if I'll ever die, divine blood in my veins?" He pauses, unsure of Ketra's reaction. "I've considered it more seriously. I am very old, and very tired... I do not feel as though my end draws near, I only feel weary, weary with the responsibilities of my station, the needs of my people. One man was not meant to bear it for so long, I think."

Ketra and her procession are silent, only watching with rapt attention at the voice of the emperor. "I believe I will relinquish my throne," Belharza says, suddenly. "Bequeath it to a chosen heir." "You think you can bestow such a thing upon another?" She doesn't sound accusatory, she doesn't seem to doubt him. She seems curious. "I do not see why not. We do not know all the mysteries of this artifact... it is worth attempting, I think. I've spoken with my granddaughter, Varlesh- she is wise and gentle, yet firm, like my mother." Belharza turns back to face Ketra, who stands right before him now. The knife is still in her hand.

They look at one another for a moment. Thunder rumbles overhead.

Belharza snorts out a sigh. He looks down at her; a beleaguered old bull, a priestess with a sacrificial dagger, a fire burning beside them. "You think," Ketra starts, her tone and timbre certain, reliable, like a ticking clock. "You can bestow such a thing? To anyone you choose?"

"Yes." He says.

Then, Ketra surges forth, plunges her dagger into Belharza's chest. He might have kept his footing if two more knives hadn't entered at his flanks, the force of the assailants sending him careening back against the steps to the brazier. Lightning flashes. Ketra is poised atop him, knee against his sternum, dagger raised overhead. The burning fires reflect in her eyes. She screams, shouts as she drives the knife into his throat. Blood spurts, breath leaves his body, he finds no strength, not even to tremble. Rain begins to fall, mixing with his blood. It is coincidence that the fires ebb with the rain, for in truth, they ebb with his death.

Ketra reaches her hands down, collecting the ichor from his wound, lifting it above her head and letting it fall down her face. She chants hymns to the blessed Saint Alessia, to the Prophet Most Simian, and to Akatosh, and to Shezarr, and to the One. Finally, she rips the amulet from his neck, yanking roughly as she works it around his horns. Around her own neck it is oversized, the chain is too long, letting the red diamond hang nearly to her navel. She steps over the old emperors corpse, his blood covering her face, and she kneels to the brazier as the last embers flicker out. She takes the stone in hand and lights the spark in her name, in Alessia's blood, in Akatosh's blood, she honors the covenant.

Under the torrent of falling rain, the brazier lights.

#tesfest21 #mori writing #belharza #oc: ami-el #cw: this depicts a brief animal sacrifice and a murder #blood is especially involved

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gothicprep · 3 years

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Meditations on True Crime: A Very Long Post

In around February of this year, I was researching a potential video related to how true crime media portrays websleuths, contrasted against their efficacy in each specific case. The introduction was a brief primer on the genre’s evolution, beginning with its general association with low-budget LifeTime films, to a hobby with more dignity than that. I remember finding an article talking about Serial, and there was some commentary in there from another large true crime podcast host.

I didn’t think it was particularly useful for my purposes, but it said something to the effect of “true crime as a hobby can help women reconcile the trauma related to being in a world that is so hostile to us.” I rolled my eyes at it. It seemed dishonestly saccharine, like it was giving a sort of post-hoc legitimacy to just enjoying whodunnits. I didn’t think about it again for around seven months after I’d read it.

One of the subjects that I intended to talk about was Elisa Lam’s death and the online reaction to it. The story was adapted into a Netflix series a few months prior, and I was freshly reminded of how poorly it all sat with me. If you aren’t familiar with her name, she disappeared in Los Angeles’s Cecil Hotel in 2013, and her disappearance went viral after the respective police department release footage of her behaving strangely in an elevator. The case attained quick viral status and extensive discussion, due to the nature of the video and the hotel’s morbid history. When her naked body was discovered in a rooftop water tank a few weeks later, speculation exploded. But an autopsy isn’t an immediate followup, and the online sleuths would lose themselves to their imaginations in the time between. Many people wanted the murder solved, but many let their speculation fly off the rails. Shady hotel coverups. Metal musician murderers. Fear of the homeless. Ghosts. Demons. Government tuberculosis research. The gang was all there.

If you weren’t active online back then, it’s difficult to properly convey how huge this all was. Everyone was expecting Elisa to have been murdered. Iron-clad. Beyond the shadow of a doubt. She wasn’t. Her death was ruled an accident. She had a severe case of bipolar disorder and she wasn’t taking her medication. The severity of her illness was also not previously disclosed to the public. The working theory is that she experienced a manic episode with psychotic features, climbed in the tank in this state, to eventually strip out of her clothes in late stage hypothermia and drown there. It’s a horrific and painful way to die. All that’s left of you is water contamination – insult to fatal injury.

People weren’t happy with this, but not out of any sympathy for Elisa. There was palpable rage from many who had been following the case. No, she was definitely murdered. No, her killer needs to be brought to justice. No, this isn’t the real story. I don’t like it. I’m not satisfied. There needs to be an ending better than this.

Tragedy isn’t exactly in the habit of being kind to us.

When news of Gabby Petito’s disappearance was spreading, I noticed a lot of similarities between hers and Elisa’s. A woman in her early 20s vanishes while traveling, under very unusual circumstances. Footage was released during both investigations, which portrayed these women in mentally vulnerable states. The story was viral online. People rifled through Gabby’s instagram in the same way they did with Elisa’s tumblr. Social media detectives established an inappropriate amount of investment. Everyone is sure of a specific outcome. The family deserves answers.

Let’s talk about answers for a second. I’d like you to spitball a comprehensive explanation for this one: how could something like this happen? I’m not looking for a “how” in terms of events or circumstances. In this case, this isn’t a question. It’s a protest of the unfairness of it all. My daughter. My sister. My friend. Someone who meant so much to me. It’s a prayer to a vacant sky. It’s not a question, it’s agony. Nothing shy of resurrection can feel like justice. Even if the case leads to a criminal trial and conviction, it does nothing to fill the void loss burns within us. There is no good answer, because there aren’t answers at all.

Let’s talk about ourselves for a second. I noticed many people draw parallels between what they’d seen on the bodycam footage and their own experience with abusive partners. “This could have been me.” Do you really think this is appropriate? Could have been, would have been – these are statements with hypothetical validity. It has nothing to do with you. To emotionally identify with someone does not evidence anything. You’re here. She’s gone. This isn’t about you. She isn’t in the position where she can co-sign anything you say. If she can’t speak for herself, don’t invoke her.

Let’s talk about true crime for a second. It’s funny how true crime marketed to men has a distinctly different texture than true crime marketed to women. The former seems to involve knocking the perpetrator down a peg. It portrays them as something worth our disgust and ridicule. The latter tends to foster emotional identification with the victim. Podcasts and other media in this category tend to be by women, for women, and generally discuss women. This story is presented as catharsis for women who see themselves as similar to them. This woman is no longer a person, but an idea. And it makes me think of that stupid article quote that I resent myself for not having bookmarked. This is reconciliation. These women, in their passing, can be a motivating factor for us to break up with that one dumbass guy. I’m so happy this was a wakeup call. I’m so happy that this made me think about my own experiences. I’m so happy that this did so much for me. Sure, someone actually died, but what is that when compared to my own self-actualization?

I made a comment on Twitter about how disgusted I was with how people spoke of Gabby in such an evasively self-interested way, and someone who likely was of no relation to her interjected with how the family deserved the truth. Truth? What truth? What peace will grisly details give them? Is there any meaningful difference between knowing your loved one died of murder or collapsed from exposure? Or are you just a nosey person who’s projected an inappropriate emotional dog in this fight? Do you want answers for her family, or for your own curiosity?

I really don’t trust shit like that, nor am I willing to give leniency to people who say such things. I think we’ve been conditioned to relate to dead women in a way that’s completely separate from who they actually were. Alive, they’re deep, multifaceted individuals, with an array of likes, dislikes, quirks, and endless little details. Dead, they’re a concept to serve a purpose. The purpose is generally a form of narrative catharsis. The creep gets thrown in prison. A woman’s abusive partner gets the comeuppance he deserves. The story needs a good ending. The story needs an ending that satisfies me. People aren’t stories. Life is not a novel.

The real trauma of others will never belong to you. This not your therapy tool or plaything. This is real pain that will never be theoretical for plenty of people. Know your place. Keep your distance. Don’t objectify the dead.

#you know i'm going for the jugular if i bother to punctuate my posts #also do take my warning: it is long

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 years

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Michael After Midnight: Bugsy Malone

Bugsy Malone is truly an inexplicable oddball. This is a movie about a gangster’s paradise, a city rampant with crime back in the Roaring ‘20s, and the war between two rival crime bosses. All well and good. But it is also a jaunty, goofy musical with tunes by Paul Williams. Ok, yeah, sure. Oh, and the entire cast is children, and the gangsters don’t use regular guns, they use guns that shoot whipped cream or they throw pies.

Did I mention this is from the same guy who directed The Wall?

This movie is notable for a lot of reasons, chief among them its lack of any sort of DVD or Blu-Ray release in the United States. This is likely because it didn’t do so hot when first released, since it came out at a time when movie musicals and throwbacks to the Golden Age of Hollywood were falling out of style; if it had just come out a few years earlier it would have been right on the money. Alas, it has to settle for being popular in the UK and being obscure in America.

Another point of notability is just how many famous faces are in this movie. The titular Bugsy is portrayed by none other than Scott Baio of Happy Days fame; Jodie Foster of Taxi Driver, The Silence of the Lambs, and being stalked by Ronald Reagan’s attempted assassin fame has a prominent role; and even Dexter Fletcher, the man who directed Rocketman as well as who salvaged Bryan Singer’s mess that was Bohemian Rhapsody is also in this movie. The fact that they, and the entire rest of the cast, do a fantastic job is also worth noting.

Usually when you have a child actor, they end up being subpar, especially if you have adult actors to compare them to. Well, there are no adults here, and even if there were these kids are really going all out with selling this 20s gangster dialogue. Sure, everything is cleaned up a fair bit because, well, these are kids here and the stakes aren’t nearly as high as something like The Godfather seeing as the worst that happens is they get pied in the face, but they still manage to invoke the old timey fun of a gangster story.

The songs are a lot of fun, but they’re by Paul Williams, so what do you expect? An interesting note is that the kids aren’t actually singing; rather, they are lip synching to stuff that is being sung by adults. This would probably be incredibly corny anywhere else, but it’s so hilariously jarring watching these kids singing in voices that clearly aren’t their own that it kind of just ends up feeling like part of the charm of the film.

And that’s really something the film as a whole has going for it: It is incredibly corny and incredibly charming all at once. It’s such a goofy concept executed very well, with it clear that everyone is having a ball. This is honestly one of the most unique films I’ve ever seen in my entire life. It’s hard to even think of anything even remotely comparable to it, save maybe for Rian Johnson’s Brick, which similarly takes a genre and transplants its lingo and themes onto a cast younger than you’d expect (in that case, it takes hardboiled film noir and slaps it on a cast of high school students). Really though, Bugsy Malone is simply one of a kind, lightning in a bottle, a film that could only exist at one point in time and come from a genius mind who wanted to add something fresh to the world.

If you like corny movies, musicals, and watching kids do goofy shit, this is the film for you. It’s like a feature length Rugrats imagine spot, and I mean that as a compliment. This really is one of the best movies ever for the sheer brilliant silliness of the concept and how well they manage to pull it off. Maybe we need to do more all-children genre films. Child gladiator movie? Child psychological thriller? Die Hard with children? The possibilities are truly endless!

#Michael After Midnight #review #movie review #Bugsy Malone #comedy #musical #gangsters #child actors #Scott Baio #Jodie Foster #Dexter Fletcher

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