#ww: class war

[brbuttons]

Have some Turkentines. Because his face is really fun to draw.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #mr turkentine #middle aged men my beloved #[[I think he's become our warm-up sketch now]] #sketch #art #ww: class war #wwatcf

[bunnyonacupcake]

Here, have some writing!

This is a little mini fic I wrote a while ago Class Wars, an AU @brbuttons has within the Factory Rejects verse.

Behold, a story about Miranda Mary Piker. Daughter of the Headmaster and her teachers biggest fan. Well, until she starts to visit Bills candy shop and he reminds her she’s only 12. She’s allowed to be a kid. This here fic handles the fallout.

——

All good things must come to an end. Miranda knows this, though, she’d foolishly and ignorantly hoped it wouldn’t end so soon. It’s Friday morning as she hurriedly sweeps water over her frizzed braids, slipping her Mary Janes on as she snatches her bag and scurries out the door. Her parents as always work early, so early as to leave little Miss Piker home alone in the mornings to get off to school on her own. Normally, she leaves early enough to prowl the hallways as their unofficial hall monitor. These past few weeks however, she’s been indulging in that extra half hour of sleep Bill encouraged her to take advantage of.

“You can’t burn the candle at both ends and expect it to last long,” He’d said sagely, setting down a peppermint stick on the counter and sliding it over to her. Miranda had scoffed and adjusted her glasses but silently took the peppermint stick. He had a point. Always did.

Miranda practically skips up the steps to the school doors, slipping inside and hurrying off down the semi crowded hallways towards the pristine classroom door neatly labeled 7S. Normally, she’s the first one in, standing near the door as some mock sentry, adjusting her glasses and crowing Pratt based propaganda.

Today, the only sentry is Pratt himself.

Miranda feels something wrong the minute she’s in front of him. His neutral resting face is usually something resembling smugness or casual disinterest. Today, he stands with arms crossed, glowering. Miranda grips the straps of her school bag tightly. “Good Morning Misther Pratt.” She says obediently, staring up at him. His glowering does not falter as he looks at her, does not break out into that fake, perfect smile he usually gives her. “Miss Piker.” He says simply. He generally only uses their names if they’re in trouble. Miranda gulps.

“Come inside. I fear we have some unfortunate news to discuss. Don’t we?” He says, stepping aside. The hair on the back of her arms stands to attention as she follows his instructions, trying desperately to think what she’s done wrong. She’s done plenty wrong, she knows that, but she’s been so careful. Her parents haven’t heard any news of her spending time outside of school, her grades haven’t slipped, she’s brushed her teeth twice after every night of sneaking sweets-

Every seat is full except for her usual spot in the middle of the front row. She steps towards her desk to set down her things but Pratt clicks his tongue. She knows his little quirks well and freezes in place. Slowly sets her backpack onto the floor. Slowly turns around as Pratt closes the door. He folds his hands behind his back and strolls over to the front of the room, tutting and shaking his head. “Miranda Mary Piker. Grade A student, top of the class… beating out Gabriel Carver for the final seat in class 7S by mere points. By all intents and purposes a picture perfect student. A winner.” He says, staring down at her. Miranda instinctively folds her hands obediently in front of her, now painfully aware of every wrinkle and stray hair in her appearance. 7S children are supposed to be pristine. Perfect. Pratt sniffs and reaches behind him to take up the infamous conductor's baton that rests on the chalkboard ledge. He looks out at the rest of the children, sitting obediently in their seats. His scowl turns to a smirk.

He slowly starts to tap a rhythm onto his palm with the baton.

“And yet… recent events have proven otherwise. I have reason to suspect you, Miss Piker, have been colluding with the enemy. With Turkentine.” He says and the accusation causes a gasp to ring out across the classroom. A flush starts to creep up Miranda’s neck. She opens her mouth to defend herself but is quickly silenced with a look, Pratt slapping the baton onto the desk with a quick ‘thwap’.

“Should anyone have come to me with this information, why, I would have found it preposterous,” He says, now turning to address the room, “Insanity! But I have seen, with my own eyes, Miranda Mary Piker at the sweet shop in town. Not only engaging with its owner and Turkentine but even eating candy.” He says, his emphasis on the last few words making it sound like a criminal offense. It might as well be one in Pratt's class.

“Miss Piker, you wouldn’t happen to remember what my first words were to you all as a class?”

Miranda didn’t cry. She never cried. But being humiliated in front of the class, stared at… She feels the back of her throat tightening up.

“Um. You are our god, our… Our leader and our savior.” She says slowly, trying to take a deep breath.

Pratt purses his lips and tilts his head, feigning confusion. “No, I don’t think that’s quite right. I believe I said… Messiah. I am your messiah. Can you say that, Miss Piker?”

Miranda’s face burns. “You… are our… Methhhiah.” She mumbles quietly. Her lisp turns the word into a jumble of ‘th’ and hard ‘s’ sounds. Pratt's face contorts into a wicked smile she’s used to seeing, but never aimed at her.

“What was that, child? Say it louder.”

“Mesthiah…”

“Louder.��

“Mesthhhiah.”

The room is silent except for her and Pratt, as she tries her best to look obediently up at him. Hold eye contact Miranda. Winners don’t cry.

Pratt sniffs disinterestedly and scans the classroom once again. The faces he sees must look sufficiently scared into submission because he turns to Miranda once again. “I must remind you child that in 7S, we are here to build winners. Winners are not born. Winning is achieved through hard, diligent work.” He says. He uses one finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

“Hands on the desk.”

The air feels like it’s sucked out of the room as every child gasps and holds their breath. Hands on the desk to receive a smack is standard punishment, especially in 7S. But not once, not ever, has it been Miranda.

“No- shir, please I can explain!” She tries but flinches as he snaps his head towards her, eyes glinting behind his frames.

“I won’t tell you again child. Hands. On. The desk.” He says. His voice is cold like steel and as Miranda approaches and tries not to shiver. She puts her hands on the desk, palms up. She wants to close her eyes and hide away from it all but she knows she’s to keep her eyes open and watch. So she does.

Pratt whips his conductors baton down onto her open palms, hard. Despite her best efforts, a whimper escapes her trembling lips even as she tries to calm herself. It stings like hell and will surely bruise she thinks to herself as he whips it down again. Then a third time. Tears sting her eyes but he pulls away and sets the baton back onto the chalkboards ledge. “To your seat, Piker. Let that be a reminder of what happens when you lose focus in 7S.” He says stiffly.

Miranda nods quickly, taking a shaky breath. “Yes shir. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, everyone, let’s open our arithmetic books to page-“

Class passes by torturously slow. Half of the class looks at her with smug looks and the other half regards her with pity. Miranda can’t tell which she hates more. When the bell rings for lunch Miranda knows the first thing she should do is study like usual. Get cracking on her homework, forget these notions of rest, disregard her newly found routine of going out to have lunch.. Yet her feet carry her as fast as she can to the now familiar facade of Bill’s candy shop where she shoulders open the door and stares at the kindly gentleman behind the counter. He turns with that soft familiar smile that turns to a face of concern as soon as he sees Miranda's distress. “Hey now,” He says with such genuine softness it brings tears to Miranda’s eyes, “What’s going on?”

It takes a lot of deep breaths, soothing words and a peppermint stick to finally get Miranda to talk. As she does the tall girl slumps in on herself and mumbles, tucking her hands under her arms to hide evidence of her supposed failures, her usual confidence gone. When she’s done she looks up at Bill again, tears shining behind her thick glasses. He stands before her covering his mouth with one hand with a look of horror and pity.

The bell rings behind her. Miranda tenses at the sudden noise while Bill relaxes at the sight of whoevers walks in. “Mr. Turkentine.” He breathes and closes his open hand into a fist, pressing it against his mouth. Miranda jerks up and nearly chokes on her candy. “I have to go.” She says quickly, slipping off her stool. “I can’t let anyone from class see me here again! I’m already in trouble and if my parents found out, oh god-” She starts to ramble. Scrambling to gather her bag, she pauses when Bill clears his throat. “Miranda.” He says carefully.

“Show him what’s happened.” Miranda swallows and turns to face Turkentine who stands at the doorway, face screwed up with confusion at the conversation he has clearly missed. She takes a breath then holds out her hands, palm up to reveal the thin and tender line of bruising. David moves closer, dropping his bag and kneeling to meet her height.

“Christ. What did you do to get this?” He mutters.

“That’s from Mr. Pratt. He did that as punishment for talking to you.” Bill says. His usually gentle voice has an edge of hardness to it. The idea of anyone hitting a child is despicable, let alone hitting a child as punishment for talking to another person. Turkentine blinks twice at her hands. Then he looks up at Miranda in disbelief. “He did this, for talking to me?” He asks.

Miranda nods silently. He looks to Bill behind the counter.

Turkentine clenches his jaw before standing and snatching his bag back up. He turns on his heel and marches for the door. “Wait! Where are you going?” Miranda cries, running after him.

He pauses with his hand on the handle as he turns to look at her.

“I’m going to have a talk with Mr. Twat.”

#ww: class war #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #miranda mary piker #bill the candyman #mr turkentine

[expectopatronum81]

Unpopular opinion

Ron and/or Hermione should have died in the deathly hallows. And I say this as someone who loves these characters (probably Hermione more than Ron), but here me out

Now let's be fucking real, I really like ron, but he really wasn't skilled or prepared enough to fight in a war against voldemort, be it magically or mentally. And that's ok! He's still 17, he's not meant to be fighting a war. And to some degree he probably knew that the chances of him actually making it were pretty slim too. But he still stuck with Harry anyways coz there's no way he was going to let his best friend go through with this alone. Because that's who ron is, he'd rather die fighting beside his best friend, for his family, his muggleborn gf and for the cause than play it safe and hide.

Now coming to Hermione, things get a tad trickier here. Yes, she is very skilled and powerful and quick on her feet. But is she powerful enough to take on an army of adult DEs who've trained for years and have experience from the first wizarding war? To win against the darkest wizard who ever lived, who's said to be worse than Grindelwald, who's the most powerful wizard in the whole world after Dumbledore? No, I'd say she isn't. Because she's also fucking 17, she's not even done with school yet. But I think she'd live longer than Ron, or that there's a better chance of her making it out alive. But if she did die it would be extra heartbreaking coz a) Harry (and the readers) just lost 2 of the people who had been there from the very beginning, b) Hermione's parents would live on in Australia, not remembering that they had a daughter, not knowing that their daughter gave her life in hopes of saving her friend and creating a better world.

I majorly have 2 specific reasons for being this sadistic. The first one is the fact that the plot dumbs down it's main villain and his followers just to make the kids win. Voldemort (during Harry's time) is probably the dumbest villain ever written, he doesn't live up to his hype. People have already discussed how stupid his gof plan was. In ootp, during the DoM fight Lucius says that voldemort can't come get the prophecy himself coz the ministry is filled with ppl and he would risk revealing himself. But it's possible for 6 mostly dumb teenagers and an army of DEs, (who hv just escaped azkaban and are sought after by the ministry) to enter in undetected? Doesn't 👏 make 👏 any 👏 sense. The supposedly feared DEs who were trained by voldemort himself can't win against a group of teenagers. It's surprising how long it takes them to take the kids down in the DoM battle. The thing is though, this is out of character for ALL of them. It seems like they were dumbed down just so the MCs could make it out alive. Voldemort during the first WW started out as absolutely no one to having the highest class of the wizarding society obeying his every command. The whole wizarding world was so afraid of him that they wouldn't even say his name. The DEs picked out member after member of the original ootp, mostly coz they were outnumbered but also coz they're fucking death eaters. And ur telling me these guys can't fight kids? Pathetic. Also it doesn't make sense that most of the adults from the first war are dead but all the kids live. Like did the war become safer or sm shit? Instead i would have loved it if the trio got away with things in the first few books, but then realised what a war against voldemort actually means later on. But they won't back down, and they'll still stick with their friend and fight for each other and the cause anyways, and that vil have real, legitimate consequences

Now, the second reason is that it would have been an amazing but heartbreaking callback to book 1. Ron sacrifices himself in a game of chess and Hermione says that there are more important things than books and cleverness, like friendship and bravery. Ron's line of "It's you who has to go on Harry, I know it! Not me, not Hermione, you!" would have also come full circle. Back then they were still 11, so they could still get their happy ending. Now they're in a real war and the stakes are higher, but they'll stick to what they started anyways. Ron sacrifices himself so the other 2 can move forwards, Hermione's intelligence gets her further but she still needs to part with Harry. Harry needs to leave them behind and face voldemort alone because that's how it was always meant to be

And finally, it would have given us a more bittersweet ending to the series instead of that vanilla 'all is well' epilogue. Harry has lost almost every one he loved. But there's still life, there's still hope, and he lives by cherishing their memories and making their sacrifice have meaning. Kinda like the ending of the hunger games. Ik this is a kids book, but Harry Potter as a series is incredibly deep and deals with a lot of fucked up shit, so I think it could handle it if it was written well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

#harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #golden trio era #voldemort #death eaters #mauraders #marauders era #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evens #severus snape #regulus black #first wizarding war #all these characters are SO much more skilled #but they ALL die while no one from the second generation does? #makes no fucking sense #hp meta #hp au #anti jkr #anti jk rowling #romione

[tyriq-edits]

In the Plain of Nysa (Trigun Greek Mythology AU)

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Priest of the Twins' Cult

Lives pretty much in the Sanctuary of Nysa by himself but gets occasionally visited by other Members of the Cult, his younger brother Livio or people in need of the Twin Gods' Blessings.

A (Kinda?) normal Priest living in his tiny Sanctuary offside from Civilisation on a small Island in the Aegean sea called Nysa.

His Duties for the most Part consist of Prayers and Sacrifices for the Gods And keeping the Temple and Statue of the Twins clean and occasionally doing a Ritual on thr Request of the odd Visitor.

Did not expect one of the Gods he is serving to be dropped off at his Temple by the goddess Meryl and her Satyr companion Roberto and to be stuck Body-Guarding said God but oh well here he is.

May Or May Not Regret Giving Vash That Short Chiton.

For more Information/lore about this AU just look at the in the plain of Nysa tag on my page or just send me an ask in my inbox.

Also shout out to my best pal Stephan for teaching me how to draw.

Additional Ramblings about the lore and WW’s design under the cut

This is btw what a Penennular Fibula looked like and I only now noticed that WW is wearing it wrong in my drawing 🥲 The needle is supposed to rest on the Bow of the brooch and not in the opening in the middle.

Also this Fanfic takes place approximately around the time of the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE), however Penennular Fibula were primarily worn by either Celts and Romans. So as you can tell while I am trying my best with historical research and keeping things somewhat historically accurate, there are still creative liberties being taken for this AU.

As for why this AU and Wolfwood‘s Sanctuary are called "in the Plain of Nysa“: It‘s actually a reference to the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, aka the most complete version of the Myth of Hades and Persephone we have. In this Hymn it says

In other words it was "in the Plain of Nysa“ in which Persephone was kidnapped by Hades. On a fun note, Nysa is actually not a real place anywhere in Greece. It was instead meant to symbolise "a place far away“ the same way we tend to say "in a kingdom far away“ when starting to tell a fairytale. However that did not stop some Ancient Greeks from guessing where Nysa might be located. Some thus point it to be situated somewhere in Macedon or today‘s Balkans, others claimed it was around the area of the Black Sea or…. That Nysa was on the Island Naxos. Which is why in early drafts the Sanctuary was meant to be located on Naxos itself but as I have never been to Naxos in my life it felt disrespectful to the actual people who live there so I just changed it to the Sanctuary of Nysa being on a lone non-existent Island near Naxos instead.

On a smaller note Nysa was also said to have been the Birthplace of Dionysos, with his name meaning "God of Nysa“. In other Stories however Nysa was the name of a mountain on which Dionysus had started his cult.

I am also taking some creative liberties with how Priesthood functioned in ancient Greece. Unlike how it works in Catholicism and other religions, Priests in ancient Greece were not a separate social class. Heck apart from a few Cults and sanctuaries, being a priest was not even seen as a main occupation of job for that reason. And a priest usually wasn‘t chosen by some council, but in many cases you just paid a certain amount of money to become a priest. They did not even have an official attire like catholic or shinto priests do nowadays. However they were still expected to dress somewhat formally compared to WW‘s Exomis, which is basically the ancient greek equivalent of a priest showing up in shorts, flip flops and an old Tshirt.

The Twins Cult in this AU is by the way HEAVILY based on the Eleusinian Mysteries, aka the Mystery Cult dedicated to Demeter and Persephone. I will some day make a post dedicated to them and priesthood in ancient Greece as a whole.

And yes I still fucking hate drawing feet and shoes.

#in the plain of nysa #as you can tell i am still not good at art #and this AU is basically just me using my Archeology degree as excuse to info dump about ancient greece #vashwood #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun 98 #persephone au #vash the stampede #vash x wolfwood #tristamp vashwoood #tristamp #tristamp vash #tristamp wolfwood #nicholas the punisher #nicholas d. wolfwood #wolfwood my beloved #wolfwood x vash #trigun wolfwood #wolfwood fanart #trigun maximum #hades and persephone #fanart #my art #my artwork #greek mythology au #greek mythology #archeology

[sonnyaavce]

“talk to me” x DP x DC au prompt

So the base is that one night a frantic call gets to the watchtower and the big seven plus some JLD members (Superman, GL, Aquaman, Flash, WW , Constantine, CM, MH and Batman) while they are still on a reunion they connect to the call; Batman pics it up and pulls it into speaker and the screen and they all hear what appears to be a jumble of police reports stating that there are eight youngsters being possessed by what appears to be a haunted hand that they used it in a party and that they need the help of any JL members to help these youngsters.

Everyone then, sees what appears to be a white clawed hand reaching out in a shake making everyone freaking out about how human-like the hand looks; Constantine sucks up a breath as he notices that CM is looking at the haunted hand in paled horror when they notice that not only them but MH can feel it reek death magic, a very high-class very dangerous death magic; Batman notices their raw expressions and ask CM and Constantine to clarify their weird reaction and if they seem to know something about the creepy hand.

Constantine then states that the hand might belong to something related to death magic and CM pipes in saying that he feels that the hand is kinda royalty-kind death magic, like the magic of Solomon but more deathly and then they clarify that although it's just a picture they are seeing at the moment; it does feel as if the hand is calling them out (soul to soul).

Superman then calls all the members of JLD (Zatanna, Deadman, Etrigan) get called and they start asking questions about what the hand might belong to until Boston tells them about the missing High King Phantom; telling them about that his body is missing and that the Infinite Realms are in an uproar and want war if the body of their king isn't returned.

—————-/——-/—————

And that's how far this plot epiphany works; if anyone want more lore about it, I'm sorry to say that's all I got :v

Edit: I had a pretty fk nightmare about it, so I wrote what I can remember

#justice league dark #danny phantom #dp x dc writing prompt #danny fenton #dpxdc #dc constantine

[henrykathman]

I have too many thoughts on The Great Gatsby (2013)

Music by Molly Noise (She/Her)

YouTube | Podcast | Patreon

This video sees me delving into the 2013 adaptation of The Great Gatsby directed by Baz Luhrmann; a film that many have regarded as a definitive version of F Scott Fitzgerald's original novel, while others regard it as a dubstep-laden imitation of the literary classic. Which one is it? Settle in and find out, old sport!

Work Cited:

Agur, Colin. "Negotiated Order: The Fourth Amendment, Telephone Surveillance, and Social Interactions, 1878–1968." Information & Culture 48.4 (2013): 419-447. https://conservancy.umn.edu/bitstream/handle/11299/182084/Agur%20-%20I%26C%20-%20Negotiated%20Order.pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y 

“Baz to Make ‘Gatsby’ Choice.” The New York Post, Achived through the Wayback Machine, 10 Feb. 2011, archive.ph/20130111073735/www.nypost.com/p/pagesix/baz_to_make_gatsby_choice_I5ngKh4aqSwiEmZh6H0iKJ#selection-2097.0-2097.27.

Beaton, Kate. “Great Gatsbys.” Hark! A Vagrant, 10 May 2013, www.harkavagrant.com/?id=259-. Accessed 25 July 2023.

“Elvis (2022) and the Utter Mediocrity of Biopics.” Broey Deschanel, Youtube, 27 Sept. 2022, youtu.be/Fu96gDcrEeU. Accessed 25 July 2023.

Ferriss, S. (2018), Refashioning the Modern American Dream: The Great Gatsby, The Wolf of Wall Street, and American Hustle. J Am Cult, 41: 153-175. https://doi.org/10.1111/jacc.12869

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1925.

Kroenert, Tim. “Baz Luhrmann versus the God of Capitalism.” Eureka Street, vol. 23, no. 11, June 2013, pp. 25–26. EBSCOhost, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=a9h&AN=90006908&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Luhrmann, Baz, et al. The Great Gatsby Screenplay. 2013, stephenfollows.com/resource-docs/scripts/greatgatsby_sp.pdf.

MacLean, Tessa. "Preserving Utopia: Musical Style in Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby." Literature/Film Quarterly 44.2 (2016): 120-131.

McGirr, Lisa. The war on alcohol: Prohibition and the rise of the American state. WW Norton & Company, 2015.

Miller, Alyssa. “Baz Luhrmann Really Is the ‘Stanley Kubrick of Confetti’ and This Is Why.” No Film School, 11 Nov. 2022, nofilmschool.com/baz-luhrmanns-editing-and-visual-style.

Noer, Michael. “No. 14 Gatsby, Jay.” Forbes, 13 Apr. 2010, www.forbes.com/2010/04/13/great-gatsby-bio-opinions-fictional-15-10-fitzgerald.html?sh=672907174535. Accessed 25 July 2023.

Piff, P. K., et al. “Higher Social Class Predicts Increased Unethical Behavior.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 109, no. 11, Feb. 2012, pp. 4086–91, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1118373109.

“Searching for Sugar Man (2012) - Full Cast and Crew.” The Internet Movie Database, Amazon, 2012, www.imdb.com/title/tt2125608/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cl_sm. Accessed 25 Aug. 2023.

Seitz, Matt Zoller. “Baz Luhrmann Is the Stanley Kubrick of Confetti.” Vulture, 9 Nov. 2022, www.vulture.com/2022/11/baz-luhrmann-knows-hes-the-stanley-kubrick-of-confetti.html.

Stewart, Jack. “The Cars of the Great Gatsby.” The Daily Drive | Consumer Guide®, 16 May 2013, blog.consumerguide.com/the-cars-of-the-great-gatsby/.

#the great gatsby #jay gatsby #nick carraway #daisy buchanan #tom buchanan #f scott fitzgerald #gatsby #nick x gatsby #releasethemckeecut #baz luhrmann #the great gatsby 2013 #video essay #Youtube

[rosalyn51]

📅   ‘We are told that Freud’s Last Session movie will be released around December’

“We are told that Freud’s Last Session movie will be released around December” 2023!!! according to Lisa Adair, General Manager, The Railway Preservation Society of Ireland (RPSI) via Northern Ireland World News (April 26, 2023)

Rosalyn51 Note: A theatrical release by December 31, 2023 qualifies the film for 2024 Oscars nominations! Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, etc. There is already incredible Oscars BuZZ (Variety)

Scenes from new movie starring Sir Anthony Hopkins shot in Whitehead

Filming has taken place in Whitehead for a new movie featuring acclaimed actors Sir Anthony Hopkins and Matthew GoodE.

Whitehead Railway Museum was the recent setting for scenes from ‘Freud’s Last Session’.

Set on the eve of World War Two in 1939, the film sees Sigmund Freud (Sir Anthony) invite Belfast-born Christian author CS Lewis for a debate on the existence of God. Having taken up the invite, CS Lewis, played by Goode, was present at Whitehead - suitably dressed as a rural Oxfordshire station - in order to catch the train to see Freud.

Also present were many extras, including a platoon of soldiers, a class of primary school children dressed for evacuation, and some of their ‘mothers’ to see them off.

100-year-old steam engine No. 461 was used in the Whitehead film shoot (archive image).

The station building, which normally houses Platform 3 restaurant, underwent a makeover so that it looked like a period 1930s English railway halt.

The Railway Preservation Society of Ireland (RPSI) laid on a train of 100-year-old steam engine No. 461, which is usually on display at the museum, plus three heritage carriages and a luggage van.

The locomotive was out of steam but fitted with a steam machine, while the RPSI’s train rides steam engine No. 3BG was on hand to shunt the train up and down the siding as required. The train had to be filmed in three main positions:

Sitting stationary at the platform whilst passengers / evacuees embarked and disembarked;

Departing with CS Lewis aboard (in daylight);

Arriving back with CS Lewis having met Freud (in the dark).

Photo: Freud’s Last Session producer, Meg Thomson IG

The weather was bright and sunny for the daylight shoots, and calm for the filming after darkness fell. The work was completed by 10.30pm [April 18, 2023] and a cheer went up from the cast and crew because this was the final sequence in the shoot.

Photo: Freud’s Last Session producer, Meg Thomson IG

Lisa Adair, RPSI general manager, said: “We are regularly in demand from film-makers because we can provide steam engines and vintage carriages. We are always pleased to be able to assist.

“We are told that Freud’s Last Session will be released around December, so we look forward to seeing the finished product in the cinema.”

______

Freud’s Last Session (2023)

SYNOPSIS:

On the eve of the Second World War, two of the greatest minds on the twentieth century, C.S. LEWIS and SIGMUND FREUD converge for their own personal battle over the existence of God. FREUD’S LAST SESSION interweaves the lives of Freud and Lewis, past, present, and through fantasy, bursting from the confines of Freud’s study on a dynamic journey.

DIRECTED BY: Matthew Brown

WRITTEN BY: Mark St. Germain

STARRING:

Anthony Hopkins (Sigmund Freud)

Matthew GoodE (C. S. "Jack" Lewis)

Liv Lisa Fries (Anna Freud)

Jodie Balfour (Dorothy Burlingham)

Jeremy Northam

Stephen Campbell Moore (? J. R. R. Tolkien ?)

Orla Bady (? Mrs. Janie Moore?)

Rhys Mannion (C. S. Lewis; WW! era)

Pádraic Delaney (Warren "Warnie" Lewis)

Tarek Bishara (? Ernest Freud ?)

George Clarke (Paddy Moore)

Oscar and Lucas Massey (twin boys of producer Meg Thomson who are playing the young Lewis brothers)

Photo collage: Originals Producer Meg Thompson, Mark Doyle, DigitalSpy, Patrick Redmond/ Westend Films

#FreudsLastSession #FLSLoc

#matthew goode #anthony hopkins #freud's last session #matthewgoode #henry talbot #downton abbey #a discovery of witches #freud's last session movie #sigmund freud #c s lewis #jodi balfour #liv lisa fries #jeremy northam #stephen campbell moore #orla brady #padraic delaney #anna freud #dorothy burlingham #freud #psychoanalysis #freudslastsession #oscars 2024 #oscars predictions #best actor #best supporting actor #best picture #best adapted screenplay #mark st germain #the crown netflix #goode performance

[babiejoshi]

Lead us to the Caves pls, I would like to slurp some Yiga Theory condensation off of the stalactites

i wanted to initially make a video about this but the way this is worded i know i MUST answer

take to mind this theory was built up almost exclusively on botw and NOT hw:aoc or totk but it also includes elements from games like oot/mm/ww/mc/tp and a few others here and there but dont worry about it, at its core its a botw thing

okay so the relationship between the sheikah and the hylain family is strange. like incredibly strange. like... racist strange. Just looking at it from the perspective of being an non-white american, the relationship between them gets worse and worse the more you look into it. A specific "race" or rather ethnic group of people is designated to work specifically FOR the royal family of hyrule, and its worded in ways that are insultingly so. "The only majorly accepted theology in this nation denotes an entire ethnic group of people to exclusively live and serve the family which by the way are also descendants of the main god of said religion" A group of people that just so happen to "enjoy" this servitude in any and all aspects that they are seen, constantly passing down traditions of generations of rules and expectations on to their children on how to train and protect and use even your best intelligence and technology, not for you, not for your lives or families but rather EXCLUSIVELY for the royal family. A family that consistently, over and over, fail and fall. Sometimes for uncontrollable means, other times its due to things like a war. But regardless of the reason, no matter what hyrule, despite having the god descendants themselves running the nation, it always falls into disrepair. which ok fine that happens... but if you look at other nations in the zelda universe while they will have conflicts (thats why theyre a part of the games to begin with) often sort that shit out, and we never hear about them again. (A, B, C) kind of like they learned from it or something.

Now hear me out for a sec because this is the actual theory and the stuff before is just kind of setting it up.

The sheikah are slaves, and the yiga clan are a group of individuals that rose against the people that oppressed them and had forced them into servitude but while doing so were painted as working for and outright supporting the uprising of ganon. The yiga do not attack regular people, the only ones that they ever seem to actually attack are

members of the royal family

link but only when he speaks to them

link AFTER beating master kohga or asserting alliance with the sheikah/the royal family

somebody who snuck into THEIR base (okay okay yeah they stole the thunderhelm first but like if you hear big dick is back in town what are you gonna do? just sit there and let them reinstill the one thing that you spent a century keeping successfully at bay? no youre gonna try and take away that power from them even if it means thievery.)

the shiekah like twice canonically (and really thats arguably only once because if it werent for dorian WHO WAS A YIGA it probably wouldnt have gone past stealing the heirloom.)

Now that seems like a lot, but is it really?

And the thing is... we know this isnt *that* crazy of a movement. For one, there are WAY more members of the yiga clan than there are of the sheikah, which implies that a mass amount of the sheikah race, and people who were mixed with the sheikah, were in fact fed up with being forced into slavery. >i.e. learning and training on a constant basis, exclusively to serve a kingdom that routinely takes advantage of peoples and forgets about them or throws them aside once their benefit is no longer necessary

For another, the idea of deliberately working to overthrow a political system and economic class that has kept your race specifically down from being seen as anything other than servants isn't really that farfetched. Not to mention using real world history we know that often times, groups that align themselves with the idea of gaining civil rights are often not only ridiculed and disrespected but also are painted in media as "bad guys". listen i know what im about to say is embarrassing, and its incredibly stupid to compare real world groups of activist to that of a villain organization in a childrens game but i mean we know that irl activist and civil rights groups, especially ones that often advocate for direct action, are typically portrayed in media and the world around us as terrorist organizations, whether or not they actually are. especially if the actions of said organizations or movements are valid. What I'm saying is... I dont think they actually give a fuck if ganon is in power. If anything it would make a lot of sense that they don't want anyone in power. But that doesn't read well, it doesnt fear monger. It makes the yiga but especially the sheikah the victims of generational violence, which the royal family WOULD DEFINITELY NOT WANT THE GENERAL PUBLIC OF HYRULE TO KNOW.

And why not? Well... Then whos the bad guy? Not the hyrulean family, not the same family that had a war with a neighboring nation made up almost entirely of women for decades where in which they tortured said women in a secret well in the middle of their godly given slave race's town that only specific people would have been able to navigate purposefully hiding what would have been war crimes all for a little bit of land. NOO NOT THEM.. THEY WOULD NEVER

Not only that but also,, the yiga are kind of, one of the only actually functioning societies left.

That's not even mentioning... The yiga don't outright hate the sheikah. like its even seen in how they speak to them. They clearly have ties to them, not only in their practices and knowledge but in general. Dorian is a great example of this, because yes he is currently no longer a member of the yiga it doesn't change the fact that he initially was, but even at the end of the day his race was still sheikah and that his wife, before her death, is also implied to have been a sheikah. it's not the sheikah themselves that they hate, that would be stupid. to hate your own race, your own kin. its ridiculous, but not nearly as ridiculous as laying down on your back and accepting that you (someone who just so happened to exist) must live exclusively as a servant, even if your master is away. It's not just selling yourself short, its selling your children and your ancestors equally as short. Saying deliberately that you are nothing purely because they say you are. Who wouldn't uprise from that? Don't you want to quit these patterns?

I really hate how they made the yiga in botw, actually i hate a lot of the weird race stuff they do in loz but particularly i hate how they butchered the sheikah and how they keep fucking them up. like.. i dunno man

It's just not fair...

#i have my own theories about master kohga and how they absolutely ruined everything with hwaoc but this post has gone on long enough #i hope all the links work :P #botw #yiga clan #link.txt #loz

[black-academia]

re-reading Aristophanes's Lysistrata for the book club... and don't get me wrong, I ✨appreciate✨ "the classics" and I'm enjoying doing further research & the annotation process, but...

most of my notes are me shit-talking lol...

...and i know the whole spiel of "we need to put writers/works in their historical and cultural context yadda yadda he's a product of his time etc.," ... and i'm still cussing out this doomi haraam and his portrayal of women :) xo

and don't even get me started on people who cite this particular play as some kind of feminist manifesto ahead of its time and/or A Thing We Might As Well Try In Exchange For Rights. Pls, no... I cringe, I cry, I die... (😫😭💀).

However!!! this translation is really accessible (and freely available online & there's also a greek/english version), and the play is funny at times, even if the jokes are a bit... let's say unsubtle. Still better than reading Ovid...

...and before y'all come for my throat in protection of your problematic fave... I just get tired of women jumping into the sea, or turning into trees, to escape the constant threat/aftermath of their violation by mortal men, Gods and demi-Gods, or The Big Horny Lightning Guy and his Madame of Misdirected Revenge (idek i'm agnostic, but i still refuse to invoke their names while I diss them).

Anyway! Back to Lysistrata; not to project modern conceptions of race onto this period or anything... but I truly envy Lysistrata in the ease at which she mediates an inter-national/inter-ethnic/inter-racial(?) solidarity with her fellow women... including women whose nations/states are literally at war with each other.

I mean, she convened a morning meeting in the village square or whatever, and half these women took the first boat over. Sis didn't even have to offer snacks?! (But tbh if my worst enemy told me that I looked ravishing and had thighs that could throttle a bull, I would probably help them secure world peace, too.)

Srsly, though, like... as a black woman in America, when I think of what it takes to foster genuine, respectful, and informed solidarity with WW (and too often even other women of color) across the boundaries and intersections of race, ethnicity, class, queerness, disability, etc.? oof. yeah... I am suddenly too tired to continue this bullet train of thought... at least tonight.

I may give an unabridged rant (yes, this was the short version) during the book club meeting this Saturday 🖤

#book rant #feminism rant? #black academia #dark academia #lysistrata #aristophanes #tw: sa mention

[mechanicsandmagic]

German steam loco 23 058 in Würzburg. The class 23 locomototives were the most common of the five classes built after WW II, with 23 105 being the last ever steam locomotive to be built for the DB in 1959.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dampflokomotive 23 058 in Würzburg. Die Lokomotiven der Baureihe 23 waren die zahlenmäßig größte Gruppe der Nachkriegsdampflokomotiven. 23 105 war die letzte Dampflokomotive, die für die DB gebaut wurde.

📸 Mine

#railway #eisenbahn #steam locomotive #dampflok #steampunk #history #history of technology #technology #museum #trains #db #retro #vintage #würzburg

[snowwhitelass]

Sam’s Instagram Story, August 19th 2022

EXCLUSIVE: In the wake of Sony minting the start of a cinematic franchise in its big-screen take of the PlayStation game Uncharted, which made close to $402M WW, we hear the movie division of its videogame arm, Sony PlayStation Productions, is developing the feature rendition of Days Gone, which Outlander‘s Sam Heughan is circling and Oscar nominated scribe Sheldon Turner is adapting.

The Bend Studios -reated game, which has sold 9M units, is set in the Pacific Northwest after a devastating global pandemic. The game chronicles former motorcycle club member, Deacon St. John, as he fights to survive against the forces of despair and mutated, predatory humans in his quest to find the long lost, presumed dead, love of his life. Heughan will play Deacon St. John. I hear Turner’s script will be a love ballad to motorcycle movies; the bike being Deacon’s sole form of transportation, his horse in this would-be, modern-day western.

Jennifer Klein and Turner are producing through their production company, Vendetta Productions. Asad Qizilbash and Carter Swan are producing for Sony PlayStation Productions.

Turner shared a Golden Globe screenplay win with Jason Reitman and an Adapted Screenplay Oscar nom for Up in the Air. He has a story by on X-Men: First Class, and wrote Doug Liman’s upcoming Everest, which Klein is also producing. Turner just did a rewrite on Liman’s Road House starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Conor McGregor for Prime Video. Paramount Players recently bought the original pitch Man of War from Turner and Klein. Vendetta is repped by Kevin Marks at Gang Tyre Ramer.

Scottish actor Heughan stars as Jamie Fraser on Starz’s Outlander. He is cast in the upcoming Liman Everest movie and Jim Strouse’s It’s All Coming Back to Me. Heughan’s feature credits include the Kate McKinnon-Mila Kunis comedy The Spy Who Dumped Me and Vin Diesel’s Bloodshot. He is repped by UTA.

https://deadline.com/2022/08/days-gone-sony-playstation-movie-outlander-sam-heughan-1235096286/

Twitter

#sam heughan #jamie fraser #outlander starz #scotland #its all coming back to me #days gone #sony playstation #everest

[brbuttons]

WW&tCF (ft. Matilda) - FR: Class War - 'Revolting'

'The children could only take so much pressure, so much discipline. And now, as they sang and tore up his classroom, Mr. Pratt could only stare to the horror at the front of the class: Miranda, his prize student, his teacher's pet, leading the charge from the heights of his desk... And bloody Turkentine below her, with the biggest shit-eating smirk he's ever seen.'

Okay, so some context under the cut:

a roleplay started with @bunnyonacupcake lead to a side-story post-factory (same verse as Factory Rejects) that follows Turkentine's class and its ongoing rivalry with the Class for Excellence. Said class is lead by Mr. Pratt, who is the most pretentious, deplorable, winning-obsessed man you'll ever meet. He's looks and sounds like Matt Berry if Matt Berry were a John Lennon kinnie, and holds his students to the highest standards that they've all become either snobby-nosed know-it-alls, or nervous wrecks.

One of those, is an AU of @bunnyonacupcake's Miranda Mary Piker. This little school-obsessed boffin is Pratt's parrot, watchdog, and star student. But over time, with influence from others (and some visits to Bill's shop), she eventually starts to see that maybe there's more to life than just studying and rules.

And so, I was listening to 'Revolting Children' from Matilda...

Thus came this little moment, when everything comes to a finalé.

#[[ I'll try and post the pictures of Pratt at some point; he is a colossal bellend and we love him ]] #willy wonka and the chocolate factory #charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf #mr turkentine #miranda mary piker #matilda #roald dahl #art #sketch #ww: class war #wwatcf

[freudianslumber]

Tiger Man

Summary:  The year was 1941, bandmates and secret lovers Scotty Moore and Elvis Presley got caught red handed by Scotty’s fiancée, and this led to the young men being thrusted headlong into the China-Burma-India theater of World War II as members of the first American Volunteer Group (The Flying Tigers). 

Author’s Notes:  This is my second Elvis fan fic, a WW II AU.  Since I was born and raised in China until teenage years, I have a personal connection and fascination with this slice of history.  Notice since the time frame of this story is set in the 1940s, I’ve made adjustments to certain things such as Blue Moon Boys being a hillbilly band and not a rock n’ roll band, and all songs that appeared had to be from before 1941, etc.  Obviously, Elvis fans would also know that some happenings in Humes High mentioned here were really a composite of experiences of Elvis’ actual high school friends such as Red West and George Klein. 

Chapter 1. Caught in the Heat

Pairing: Scotty Moore x Elvis Presley (m/m)

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: 18+, kissing, foreplay, light bondage, fingering

For a moment, Scotty felt he was on top of the world. The view beneath him was mesmerizing: A pair of half-lidded sapphire eyes looking up at him with unspoken desire, cherubic lips parting slightly in an invitation, luscious golden chestnut hair framing that uniquely handsome face.

Elvis Aron Presley, the owner of those ravishing features, gave him a small insecure smile followed by a meek and hesitant whisper: “S-Scotty? Do you still want me tonight?” This snapped the other young man out of his temporary catatonic state, his right hand reached down and gently caressed Elvis’ cheek, causing a hint of a blush there: “Sorry honey, I just had to make sure this was real, that was all. We’ve come a long way, I promise I’ll make you a man tonight.” With such a forthright declaration, Scotty took the initiative, lowered his upper body onto Elvis in a smooth and confident move, and covered the boy’s soft alluring lips with his mouth.

Scotty's mind rolled back to his last year at Humes High. As the popular class president, already skilled guitarist, envied by all the boys and pursued by all the girls, Scotty only noticed awkward freshman Presley at the school talent show for the first time. The desperately shy boy who moved from the small town of Tupelo Mississippi not long ago sang a soppy tune about a dog called “Old Shep”, while accompanying himself with rather laughable amateurish acoustic guitar. But somehow the freshman’s slightly trembling vocal struck a chord with an unsuspecting audience, and surely left an impression on one particular upperclassman. The voice was untrained and unrefined, but exuded a purity and raw emotion which were so rare and entirely captivating. Unsurprisingly the most lauded performance of that night came from Scotty and his well-rehearsed band The Starlite Wranglers, without a doubt the most technically proficient and experienced musical act Humes High had ever spawned. However, the much-celebrated senior found it impossible to erase the kid with the strange name from his mind ever since then.

Scotty’s thoughts were brought back to the present as a more grown-up version of Elvis let out a little whimper, arching back as the burning manhood within Scotty’s underwear rubbed against his own bulge through thin layers of cotton. Scotty growled, attacked the exposed delicate skin on that tempting neck with lips and plenty of teeth. In one swift move, Scotty grabbed both wrists of his younger partner and held them above his head. Met with little resistance, a smirk appeared on Scotty’s face as he casually reached for his tie in the pile of clothes on the nightstand. “Hold still!” Scotty commanded with authority to the squirming and panting mess beneath him. "Sorry, Scotty. S-Sorry, sir…” Elvis stopped squirming, bit his bottom lip nervously and tensed up all over, as if anticipating some type of reprimand. The guitarist’s dexterous fingers tied Elvis’ wrists together with ease and made a secure knot. “Baby are you ready?” Scotty’s icy blue eyes twinkled. Elvis’ cheeks grew even rosier, “yes, ready as I’ll ever be…” With that bashful affirmation, the one in charge made quick work of their briefs, sliding them off and tossing them aside. As he went on to spread open Elvis’ legs, Scotty added with a cocky flick of an eyebrow: “I bet none of them fangirls of yours would guess how you'll lose your virginity, huh?’’

In the years since Elvis had first broken into Scotty's realm of existence singing a mournful song about a dog at Humes talent show, many things changed, but some things did not. Elvis gained a few friends and some supporters at school through his musical talent, but at the same time attracted a number of haters. Some boys at school were clearly resentful of the amount of attention the awkward misfit seemed to be getting. One time they sabotaged his instrument, broke all the strings on Elvis’ beloved guitar which he brought to school every day. The graduating class president stepped in then and mended Elvis’ heart by gifting him with a set of even better guitar strings. Unfortunately, the bullying did not stop there. Elvis continued to be seen as an outsider, being mocked frequently about his clothes which he couldn’t afford to change very often due to poor family background, his acne scars, his self-styled hair, and his singing between classes. The bullies called him names such as “squirrel”, threw rotten tomatoes at him when he was playing on campus, finally culminating in one incident which Scotty walked in on. The group of delinquents cornered Elvis in the bathroom, roughed him up a bit and held him down by force, one of them waved a razor in hand menacingly and talked about teaching “Presley and his precious hair” a lesson and “shave it all off”. This plan was derailed when Scotty and his buddies intervened and scared away the punks. The freshman’s face turned red from shame and embarrassment from having to be rescued, tears sparkled in his eyes as he murmured “I owe you one” to Scotty before running away.

What Scotty did not know was that Elvis had been secretly idolizing him ever since he came to Humes. The popular senior was perfect in every way in the newcomer’s eyes. His effortless charm, good looks, confidence, poise, leadership and musicianship all made him so attractive but completely out of reach. Scotty was even kind to Elvis when many others shunned and derided him in school, which made the whole bathroom debacle feel that much more humiliating to the boy from Tupelo. Even prior to that, he already couldn’t help being self-conscious around Scotty, akin to how inadequate a newly joined boy scout would feel next to a Eagle Scout.

Soon however Elvis found that he didn’t need to worry about how he felt around Scotty anymore. Graduation came around and Scotty disappeared after that for five long years. The rumor around town was that the former class president did not go off to college as others had expected, instead he joined the Naval Academy and then the Navy Air Corps. As a naval aviator he followed his training with military tour of duty in the far east. Elvis’ mind wandered off to the sea and distant shores many a time along with his high-flying hero during the extended intervening years. Meanwhile, his biggest accomplishment was becoming the first member of his family to graduate from high school. Elvis got a job at Crown Electric as a truck driver while trying to audition for various local bands. He never gave up on his dream to make it as a singer despite disparaging words he had received.

Once again it was Scotty to the rescue. The accomplished pilot was back in town after he left active duty from the Navy and formed a hillbilly band right away without missing a beat. As a virtuoso guitar player with local renown Scotty would have been a hot draw on his own, but he was looking for a charismatic front man to complete the last piece of the puzzle. Elvis couldn’t believe it when Scotty picked him out of scores of contenders for the lead singer position. No one had ever given the high school grad so much encouragement and put so much confidence in his ability to carry a band vocally. The high-spirited combo that resulted became known as the Blue Moon Boys and almost an instant sensation on the Memphis music scene. Teenagers all around the region soon got words of the cool new act and began flocking to their gigs to see it for themselves. The Blue Moon Boys’ songs were starting to get radio plays despite the material being mostly covers of Hillbilly artists such as Bob Wills and Roy Acuff.

Although Elvis did not consider himself a good singer and attributed his recent popularity mostly to luck and Scotty, the guitarist knew this couldn’t be farther from the truth. As a more experienced musician and aspiring producer, Scotty saw great natural talent in his younger friend. The ability to take any song and spin it on its head and transform it into something new and unique, was an intangible that could not be taught or trained. The boy’s strength was in interpretation and performance, and despite his shy personality, on stage he was magnetic and exciting. Scotty did not realize how much he was smitten by the new lead singer until he inadvertently acted upset and jealous over Elvis’ flirty closeness with all his female fans. That was when Elvis broke down and confessed that he had been head over heels for Scotty ever since high school days.

“Please, Scotty! I need your loving!” Elvis begged as Scotty’s lubricated finger teased around his rim. He wanted to hold Scotty impossibly tight, but his hands were tied together above his head, so he had to wait for the other to move. Scotty’s left hand moved to pinch the young man’s nipple while he inserted his right index finger carefully and began exploring unknown territory. The gasps and moans that came out of Elvis’ mouth felt like they were tickling Scotty somewhere he couldn’t describe. The knowledge that his parents were out of town and they had the house all to themselves was certainly reassuring to Scotty. Over the preceding years, Elvis had matured into a strikingly attractive young fellow, with a gothic flavor derived from his mother Gladys. His face and figure filled out in all the right places, and gained more definition elsewhere, no doubt chiseled by the Lord himself. No wonder he drove all the girls hog wild, Scotty thought to himself as he marveled at the incredibly long eyelashes and soulful cerulean eyes at close range. He added a second finger down below as he captured the irresistibly delicious looking lips in front of him.

“Winfred Scott Moore!” A high and shrill voice pierced through the sensual and erotic atmosphere all of a sudden. The lovers’ bodies quivered in unison out of panic. Scotty quickly withdrew his fingers and turned his head back while his naked figure continued to cover the one beneath him. Only a few feet from them, a petite but voluptuous young woman with blonde bob was staring daggers at Scotty. “MaryAnn!” Scotty yelled in recognition, grabbing the nearest blanket to hide behind while he separated himself from Elvis. “I KNEW IT!” MaryAnn stomped her high-heels and shrieked, “you said you had rehearsal tonight and no time to see me, and here you are sinnin’ and screwin’ with your singer! Some rehearsal you have!!!” Scotty started to put on his clothes as fast as he could, trying to defuse the situation: “MaryAnn, don’t be mad, it’s not what you think, honey…” This was interrupted with another angry retort: “Don’t Honey me!! Winfred Scott, do you still remember your engagement? I swear I’ll tell your mama and daddy everything if you don’t break up with that slut boy right now!!” The angry blonde started to wipe tears from her eyes as Scotty had seen her do many times before when she wanted things her way.

MaryAnn and Scotty knew each other from a long way back. She was his senior prom date. The couple was unanimously crowned king and queen for that night. MaryAnn had always had her eyes set on marriage, with her ultimate goal in life being the title of Mrs. Moore. On the other hand, Scotty never took their relationship so seriously, thought of it as nothing more than casual school dating. He never felt a close connection or had common interests with the gal. Scotty also thought her personality was a little overbearing and over-dramatic. However, the blonde vixen never gave up and had successfully burrowed a space in Scotty’s life for herself. She visited enough times to get in good graces of Scotty’s parents and even his brothers, convinced everyone in the family that she was the natural choice for a life partner for the guitarist. At some point she was given the house key and MaryAnn started sauntering in and out of the house as if she was already part of the family. MaryAnn’s folks were more well-to-do, which would come in handy to help the struggling Moore family dry-cleaning business if the marriage went ahead according to plan. Scotty did not fight the engagement initially because quasi-arranged marriages like this was kind of common, and he did not find enough reasons to oppose the idea. Not being in love certainly was not a strong argument to bring up since that was never a big part of the consideration in these discussions.

However, this infatuation he was having with Elvis was making Scotty rethink things. What they had together was more than physical attraction. Their personalities complimented each other so well both professionally and romantically. Suddenly, the boring, predictable, but safe path of marrying MaryAnn seemed to be not good enough for Scotty anymore. The Presley boy was so sweet and beautiful, musically gifted and madly in love with him, at the same time he was from a dirt-poor family, lived in government housing projects, and was of the wrong gender to have a real future with him as a legitimate couple. These days Scotty’s brain was regularly filled with wild and foolish thoughts, for instance: If Elvis were a girl I would marry him in an instant; or wonder if Elvis and I could run off together and live happily ever after.

“I’ll leave.” Elvis’ eyes turned a little moist from unshed tears as Scotty untied his wrists. He slipped on his pants and threw on his shirt in quick succession, clenched his teeth in silence as he endured some more insults directed at him from his love rival. “I don’t know what kind of witchcraft you cast over Scotty boy, but it’s time for you to get out of his life altogether…” MaryAnn added triumphantly. This was interrupted by Scotty, who couldn’t believe what he heard: “Wait a minute, hold on right there! What do you mean get out of my life altogether? You ain’t saying you want Elvis out of the Blue Moon Boys, right??”

“Yeah, you heard right! I ain’t gonna tolerate the two of you hanging out under the cover of a band! I’ve had enough! I swear he’s the devil in disguise, and you were under his spell. I want nothin’ less than a clean break!!” The little blonde scowled and screamed unrelentingly, face turning red from all the exertion.

“Is that so?!” Scotty yelled back, jamming a fist into the nightstand, making a loud noise. “Well then, I’ve got news for you! I’m gonna get back into military action soon, this time as a volunteer fighter pilot to combat the Japanese. We will be deployed to the Far East by summer!! Elvis can join me if he wants! You’ve just helped me make the decision. If you think you can tie me down, woman, think again!”

This unexpected announcement shocked everyone else in the room. MaryAnn’s mouth was agape until she finally recovered and countered: “You gotta be mad, Scotty! Half of the world is at war, Eurasia is war-torn right now, and the U.S. is on the verge of entering the war directly against the Axis countries any day! Everyone is trying to get away from the armed forces, and you are volunteering to fight in Asia? Are you trying to get yourself killed??” She looked up at her fiancée incredulously, hoping against odds that he still had some common sense left in him.

Scotty sounded even more emboldened in his reply: “Maybe I am, MaryAnn. Or maybe I just wanna get outta this place and get away from your smothering old self!! If you got your eyes set on destroying my band, then there’s nothing left around this town to keep me attached here! I know how to be a soldier; I’ve done it for years. It’s a helluva simpler than being at your beck and call!!”

“Mama is probably gonna strangle me for saying this, but Scotty, I’ll go wherever you’re going.” The mostly silent young singer suddenly interjected. “You!!” MaryAnn pointed a finger at him and spewed out, “shut up, you white trash, go find someone else to sin with!” She then looked over to her fiancée, squeezed a few lines out threateningly in a last-ditch attempt to salvage her engagement: “Scotty listen, don’t make me play dirty. Forget all this happened and replace the singer, come back to me and I’ll let it slide. If you go off with that slut boy, then neither of you can ever come back to this town with your reputation intact ’cause I swear I'll air your dirty laundry all over the place!”

“No, you won’t! I’m glad you’re showing your true colors now before I fall into your trap! I’ve had enough of your conniving ways, now get out of my house or I’ll throw you out!!” Scotty shouted while taking a few steps forward. The blonde retreated at the sight of that, trembling with rage: “Winfred Scott, just you remember. You’ll regret this and crawl back to me one day. If you survive the war, that is.”

Those were the last words from the crossed young woman before she rushed out the door. The bandmates now looked at each other in a different light, both knowing they were making a huge decision that would completely change their lives.

Scotty started after a brief silence: “Elvis, I appreciate what you said. But you really don’t have to follow me into foreign battle zones during wartime. You’re an only child and your mama needs you at home and away from harm. I totally understand.” The young singer’s expressive eyes exuded concern and affection as he hurried to respond: “If it’s gonna be that dangerous, then I’d rather go with you than staying here and worrying days and nights about you.” He walked over and held Scotty’s hands, sat down on the couch next to his older partner, “Anyway my singing career would be over since MaryAnn will definitely drag our names through the mud and she does not even need to make things up. We’ll lose all our fans and won’t be able to get a gig anywhere. I don’t want to stay here and live the life of scorn and derision. Maybe if we get away and come back in a year or two, we'll get a chance of having a new start.”

Scotty looked into those innocent and hopeful eyes and his heart practically turned into mush. He leaned over and gave the young man a hug, “But honey, you are barely 20, you haven’t even reached the legal drinking age. Your Mama will never let you go!”

“Well, I’ve passed the voting age, so I’m already old enough to make my own decisions.” Elvis’ face turned sadder then, “as for Mama, I guess I’ll just have to confess everything to her and beg for her forgiveness. She loves me, so eventually she’ll look past everything and let me go.” Elvis tried to sound confident, but it did not quite come across as that. “I’ll leave all my savings to her and Daddy, also send them money while abroad. They will be proud of me when I come back from war.” Elvis spoke as if he was trying to convince himself about this idealistic scenario.

“Are you really sure, Elvis? You’ve never even been out of the South before.” Scotty felt like Elvis’ father now. “Yeah, that’s why I need to go out and see the world for myself. And you’ll teach me, right? Scotty?” Some eagerness and excitement started to replace apprehension and uncertainty in the young singer’s tone and demeanor. Scotty cupped the lovely, flushed cheeks in front of him and placed a soothing kiss on that smooth forehead. Pulling Elvis into a warm embrace, Scotty spoke reassuringly: “That’s right darlin’, I’ll show you everything I know and try my darnedest to keep you from harm, it’ll be us against the world from now on…”

#Elvis Presley #Scotty Moore #Elvis fan fic #m/m #World War II AU #Flying Tigers #China-Burma-India theater

[nasty-creeps]

On the rise of right-wing ideation, it's consequences, and how we got here.

(Specifically why more and more people are starting to rally to leave the EU and similar unions and vote against their own good)

Right wing politicians are usually privileged, rich, white ppl. And poor (and middle class which is almost non existent anymore tho) folks that have some kind of right wing ideation still believe in the "American dream" even outside the US. "If you work hard enough, you can make a fortune." They probably won't. But because they think they could be rich one day they don't protest tax cuts for rich people for example. On the other hand, the rich know that they have to appeal to the lower classes because they would be completely outnumbered otherwise.

The easiest way to do that is to

1. Find a scapegoat, usually immigrants (or religious groups) or other minorities

2. Propagate that not only individuals from other countries are the problem, but the system that allows them to come into the country.

Which in our case is the EU. For this example, they tried to divide the number of refugees, countries would have to take in by percentage of I think population and space/area or something. I don't remember exactly. So politicians first scared people of refugees as individuals (they are terrorists, their religion is too different from ours, they steal your job, they are criminals) and then directed their fear and anger at the EU who 'forced" them to take them in (asyl is a human right so either way you can't really say no even if they try).

They say that this union with others is against the people's interests and they have to hold together as a nation which increases nationalism and individualism. "America first!" as an example.

Once people isolate themselves it's easier to radicalise them and feed them fake news because they either don't really talk about it with anyone, feel attacked and shut down if someone has a different opinion or rant with others that got the same fyp as them.

Now that they have them nice and isolated, they can give them more varied topics that might be loosely related and it all becomes a web of lies. But they are so entangled in it so they can't see things rationally anymore. You can show them articles about what's happening in the UK but they'll say it's left wing propaganda.

The rich profit off of it because the mob is so busy with being angry about the left, the media, immigrants, vegans....

They pass their bills that hurt the lower classes getting rid of workers protections or limits on rent increases or mortgages and so on and so forth.

They don't care for the people who vote for them.

And this mentality and these strategies are copy and pasted in basically every country. That's why we see this phenomenon worldwide. And depending on how good or bad the life in a country is, the quicker/slower the narrative gains supporters.

A German politician of the Afd (far right political party) said: the worse the state of the country, the better it is for the afd. They don't even try to hide their intentions. They are openly quoting Hitler and Goebbels, they are using the same talking points as the Nazis in WW II but their supporters still don't question themselves, if that's really what they want the future to be like. They have the audacity to call themselves the "alternative for Germany" while just recycling what it was 80 years ago.

We had so many major catastrophes over the last 2-3 decades - wars, terrorist attacks, natural catastrophes... - and apparently humanity has decided to take the first steps in the direction to become more and more divided. If people worldwide don't change the way they think and act, we won't stop the spread of right wing ideation.

#politics #right wing bullshit #dystopian society #european union #brexit #eat the rich

[shop-korea]

IKEA - DOES - JUST - SHOWS - 'HEJ' - SCANDINAVIAN

HITLER - BORN - IN - AUSTRIA - GERMAN - SPEAKING

HOW - CONVENIENT - WHEN - HE - ESTABLISHED YES

RESIDENCY - IN - GERMANY - THEN - TOOK - OVER

BEING - IN - THE - USA - 'HEJ' - EVERYWHERE YOU

ARE - SUPPOSE - 2 - ASK - EMPLOYEES - WHAT - IT

MEANS - WHY - THEY - HIRED - THEM - TAX - TRUE

DEDUCTIBLE - ANYWAY - THEIR - WAGES - WHAT

A - WASTE - OF - MONEY - UNLIKE - TOKYO - AND

KOREA - BOTTOM - SHOULD - SAY -

LONDON - 'HELLO' - MAGAZINE 4 -

BEHAVES - CUSTOMERS - WHO - NEED - TRUE

FURNITURE - U - MUST - TALK - 2 - SUCCEED IN

THIS - WORLD

DILLON - 'THE - BRATZ' - ONE - DAY - SUMMER

LOST - HIS - HEARING - COMPLETELY - KNOW

ASIA - IS - WHERE - 2 B - NOT - ALL - COUNTRIES

MUTES - ASIA - ALSO - IN - EUROPE - BUSINESSES

ARE - TEACHING - U - STRANGERS - HOW 2 - LIVE

'WHERE - PROVIDING - U - FURNITURE - 4 - YOUR

HOMES'

I'M - 'LITTLE - DRUMS' - EUROPEAN - CHEROKEE

RESERVATION - INDIAN - OUR - TENTS - MODERN

WE - LIKE - OTHERS - ALWAYS - NEAR - BEST AND

LOTS - OF - VISIBLE - FISHES - FLYING - UP - AND

DOWN - WE - DON'T - MOVE - AS - CHEROKEES

A - VILLAGE - OFTEN - BUT - MANY - GUESTS

INSTEAD - AND - TEE PEE - OUTSIDE - NICE

LIGHTS - ON - THE - TENT - LIKE - TELLING

A - STORY - ALSO - AS - 2 - WE - DON'T - QUITE

NEED - MANY - THINGS - AT - IKEA - SO - THEY

DON'T - AFFECT - HOW - WE'RE - SUPPOSED 2

BEHAVE - B 4 - WW 2

ADOLF HITLER - SUPPER - SHORT

JEWS - OWNED - EVERYTHING - IMPORTANT

HOSPITALS - CAFES - RESTAURANTS

MEDICAL - SUPPLIES - WATER STOPS

TOLD - HITLER - AS - CHILD - 18 AND OLDER

HE - HAD - 2 - ASK - TOTAL - STRANGERS

AND - IN - FRONT - OF - CASHIER - HAND

CASH - 2 - YES - THEY - ALSO - RAN WITH

THAT - MONEY - CASHIERS - SMILED

GROCERY - SNOW - HUNGRY - EVEN - WITH

MONEY - 4 - 18 AND OLDER

1935 - RALLY - ADOLPH HITLER - SHORT MAN

A - CHRISTIAN - WHO - MARRIED - ONE

NAZI - REALLY - WAS - BECAUSE - LOST

NERVE - 2 - CALL - WHAT - THEY - ARE

GERMAN - CHRISTIAN - REGIME

PAST - HOLY - WARS

CHRISTIANS - VS - CATHOLICS

PROTESTANTS - PROTESTING - CATHOLICISM

PROTESTANTS - VS - CATHOLIC - PRIESTS - MONKS

CHRISTIANS - NEVER - WON - BLOODY - HOLY WARS

PRIESTS - MONKS - WHO - NEVER - EVEN - RODE

HORSES - WITH - SWORDS - WEAPONS

WITH - SWORDS - COURAGEOUSLY - BLED - AND

SLAUGHTERED - THESE - BRUTAL - ENEMIES

THIS - WARPED - CHRISTIANITY - THROUGHOUT

THE - AGES ...

HITLER - SAID - DURING - THAT - RALLY

'HE - ALONE - WHO - OWNS - THE - YOUTH

GAINS - THE - FUTURE'

AMERICAN - (HARVARD) - POET

ROBERT FROST - PULITZER PRICE

'THE - ROAD - LESS - TRAVELED'

HE - STARTED - IN - ENGLAND - THOUGH

'HE - ALONE' - NOT - DEPENDENT - ON - ANYONE

2 - MAKE - THINGS - HAPPEN

REVISED - POEM

SOUTH - KOREANS - SEOUL - YOUTUBE

TODAY - FORWARD - AMAZON - PRIME

DOING - WELL - WATCHED - MUSICAL

'CINDERELLA' - THE - LATEST VERSION

CAMILLA

UNDERSTOOD - ALL - PRETTY - GOOD

ACCENT - YOUTUBE - UNDERSTOOD

MANY - MADONNA - OLD - MUSIC US

VIDEOS

'LET - ME - DRESS - U - WITH - MY - LOVE'

UNDERSTOOD - THAT

THEN - THEY - READ - THIS - POEM

AND - WHAT - DOES - IT - MEAN - ME

2 - IT'S - SO - STRANGE - OVER - 20 YEARS

STILL - CAN'T - EVEN - KNOW - POSSIBLE

MEANING - COLLEGE - WAS - AWFUL - SO

TERRIBLE - GRADES - GIVEN - BY - AMERICAN

PROFESSOR - PRICKS - KNOWING ALL GRANTS

GONE - UNDER - $75,000

BECAUSE - A - REQUIRED - ALL - CLASSES

OTHERS - B - ALSO - IS - ACCEPTED - BUT

IF - U - LEAVE - CLASSES - NEVER - COME

AGAIN - I - WAS - ATTACKED - AT - USC - BY

PROFESSOR - NEVER - ATTENDED - MANY

CLASSES - NEVER - LOST - GRANTS

KEISER - ONLINE - DID - SAME - PROFESSOR

ATTACKED - ME -

IF - U - DON'T - PUT - YOUR - NAME - AGAIN

YOUR - ADDRESS - AGAIN - WE - ON - GRANT

A - AND - B - WE - LOOSE - GRANTS - NEXT

SEMESTER - NON-ATTENDANCE - KEISER

OTHER - WEIRDOS - GRANTS - LOST - AND

NOW - U - OWE - MONEY - AND - CAN'T DO

NEXT - YEAR - WHY

BAD - CREDIT - RATING

NO - BETTER - CAR - HOUSE

APTS - WHERE - THEY - STEAL - YOUR

DOOR - BOX - KICK - ASSAULT - KNOCK

U - UP - FREE - ABORTION

WHY - KEISER - OTHER - ONLINE

USC - I - KEPT - MY - GRANTS - ENJOYED

MYSELF - LOTS - OF - CAFETERIA - FOOD

GOD - HAD - FUN - SHOPPING - SHOPPING

ATTENDED - ONLY - SINGING - COLLEGE

FEMALES - PERFECT - ATTENDANCE - AN

A - BECAUSE - NOT - DOING - NEXT - SEMESTER

WEIRDO - PROFESSOR - REAL - LOUD - HURTS

EARS - AUDITIONS - FOUND - ASIANS - BORN

IN - USA - HUGE - BREASTS - GOT - AUDITION

HE - DISAPPEARED - MY - A - GRADE - SO

LOWER - GPA - NEEDS - 2 C - NO - BRA WHEN

U - HAVE - SMALL - BREASTS

WEIRDO - ASIANS - OURS - LIKE - BABIES

NO - BRA - NEEDED - BUT - AMERICANS

DIFFERENT - NO - BREASTS - THERE's

ARE - DEVELOPED - SO - THEY - NEED

BRA - SHARED - WHEN - I - ORDERED

MY - TRANSCRIPTS - A - GONE - KNEW

PRIX - WOULD - STILL - B - THERE BUT

AGE 16 - GIRL - CAN - NOW - TALK YES

BETTER - TOLD - HIM - BREAKING HIS

ELBOWS - WANTED - ME - 2 - APPLY

AGAIN - 4 - GRANTS - $85,000 - TUITION

HAVE - HIS - CLASS - U - SANG - EUROPEAN

SONGS - IN - LOS ANGELES - NOT - ENGLISH

MEANING - WE'RE - SINGING -

CALL - THEM - FAT - FAT - FAT - TELL

UGLY - MALES - 'UGLY - MALES' - YES

EUROPEAN - NOT - IN - ENGLISH

NO - TRANSLATION - HE - ENJOYS THAT

FRENCH - SWEDISH - ITALIAN

ROMANIAN - GERMAN - FINLAND FINISH

TOLD - HIM - BRAKING - HIS - LEGS

BASHING - HIS - SKULL

GOT - POSTCARD - MY - GRADE - A

KEISER - TRANSCRIPT

MISSING - GRADE - AGAIN

$75,000

DIDN'T - TELL - ME - PHILIPPINE - MOM's

$250 - CHECK - BOUNCED - DIDN'T - TELL

US - MONEY - ORDERS - EXISTED

I - HAD - 2 - PAY - $2,500 - NOW - THAT

23 AND OLDER - I - WAS - MINOR NOT

ALLOWED - 2 B - TOLD - 'NAUGHTY - MOM'

BLACK - FEMALES - AS - EMPLOYEES

MULTIPLIED - VISIBLY - MY - WHO WAS

RESPONSIBLE - 4 - ME - BLACK - SHE

DIDN'T - MIND - ME - AGE 16 - LEAVING

WHY - BECAUSE - LESBIANS - NO - BREASTS

THEY - WORK - AT - USC - SO - THEIR - KIDS

FREE - TUITION - $100,000 - AND - MORE

SO - ME - GONE - MY - CHAIR - TAKEN - 2

THUS - OXFORD - UNIVERSITY - ENGLAND

2ND - OLDEST - ENGLISH - SPEAKING

UNIVERSITY - IN - THE - WORLD

WE - LEAVE - USA - GARBAGE - BEHIND

NEW - LAW - NO - FOREIGNERS - WILL B

ALLOWED - ENTRY - POSTING - SLOWING

CONTINUING - IN - ANOTHER - POST ...

[thatndginger]

Happy STS! What were your character(s) like as children? How much did they go to school? What are some of their earliest memories? What was their family like? Overall was their childhood happy?

Hey Moshke! Thank you for the question <3

I’ll answer this for the War Witch crew, because tbh the Shapeshifter trio’s answers are pretty much all “they were a little gremlin child” and at least the WW trio have different answers lol.

Nate was a loud and brash and gregarious child. He’s the firstborn child of a senator from a distinguished lineage; to say he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth is probably an understatement. The only thing that kept him from becoming a spoiled brat was the careful guidance of his parents - Senator Soren Kraemer and his wife, General Joanna Riswell. Nate excelled in school, helped in part by the best tutors money could buy. One of Nate’s earliest memories is the birth of his younger sister Antonia. She’s two years his junior, and quickly became Nate’s favorite playmate when they were both home from their prestigious private schools. The addition of Loraine a few years later was another happy event, marred only by the untimely death of Joanna while out on campaign in the colonies a few months later.

Mari had two modes as a child: quiet, wide-eyed, and watchful or constantly asking questions and demanding to be a part of whatever was happening. Usually the former preceded the latter. She was the child who didn’t speak for long enough to concern her parents, only to use full, clear sentences when she finally began to talk. With her parents Maxwell and Roisen being tailors, Mari didn’t have the opportunity of private education and tutors, but her parents managed to send her to a decent public school, and bought her as many books as she could. Being an only child allowed them to spoil Mari to an extent, but Mari was always well aware of their social and economic status, and never asked for more than she thought they could afford. She greatly enjoyed learning the tailor trade at the knees of her parents, and the time spent in their shop are some of her earliest and happiest memories.

Jon was a very quiet child. Didn’t talk much, didn’t go out of his way to interact with other children in the orphanage. Occasionally got into fights with some of the other children, but didn’t seem to hold grudges as long as his opponent left him alone afterwards. He attended the classes required of him, and did fairly well in them, but for the most part just lived in his own head. The caretakers at the orphanage weren’t terrible, but orphanages - especially those further away from the major cities - are rarely well-funded, and a small staff of adults with a large number of charges can only do so much. It wasn’t a particularly happy childhood. His earliest memories are of one winter in the orphanage when he was around two. It was a cold one, but the new governor visited and brought a bunch of sweets and toys and new clothes with them.

#storyteller saturdays #wip: war witch