#And experimenting with how cores are formed in hopes of learning how to permanently destroy them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cousinwingding97 · 3 years

Text

Silver Memories

Chapter Four: New Plan

Warning: Description of violence.

Realized this did not upload in the format I was hoping for at first. 😭 Sorry about that assault on your eyes. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Mando stayed with you throughout your entire episode, gently caressing your scars absentmindedly while whispering in another language to you. Your shaking body finally calmed enough for you to breathe normally. The tears dried and you had enough strength to pat Mando’s arm to get him to notice you were ready for him to leave while you freshened up.

He did so immediately, without making you feel like he was trying to peek at anything. Despite his actions and his words about the memory, you were shaken to the core. He still could’ve been lying, but your mind was at war. The feeling of security would not leave; yet, the violence in his voice in your memory sent chills down your spine. He may have done something and now you were temporary allies. Or maybe you were allies because of your lack of memories. You had no idea. Boba had said not to trust anyone without your memories and despite your dislike of the man, you were inclined to agree with him.

You stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn your skin. The pain helped you focus on the now. I am in a shower and safe. The water feels good to my bones and I am safe. That’s all that matters in this moment.

The steam fogged the fresher, but your mind was clearer now. You would be flying by the seat of your pants from now on. That’s all you could do. One day at a time.

You found no clean clothes, so you grabbed the towel to dry off as best you could and threw on the white ones from Pollis Massa and the cloak. At least your body was a little warmer now.

———————————————————————

You stood in the hold of the ship, waiting for something to click in your mind to tell you what to do now that you were by yourself. You assumed Mando and Boba were up top in the cockpit flying you back to Pollis Massa; truthfully, you did not want to go up there and talk to either of them at the moment, but the thought of being alone with your thoughts was not an attractive option considering how your mind was finally feeling clearer to you. So, up the ladder you went to see if you could at least find some form of human interaction with them.

You should’ve known better. These men were deathly quiet. They didn’t even look at you as you entered the cockpit. You knew they heard you, yet they did not acknowledge your presence. You didn’t bother talking to them, not knowing how they would take it. You wanted to ask questions though. These men knew the past you. They knew and had deemed it necessary not to tell you anything. You fidgeted with nerves, the questions rolling through your mind one after the other. You opened your mouth multiple times to ask something, but promptly shut it not knowing how much information you would get.

“What is it you want to ask?” Mando inquired. He must have sensed the endless questions in your mind. Unknown to you, he had heard your start of questions multiple times with your mouth opening and promptly shutting with a clack of your teeth through the the enhanced hearing of his helmet.

You tried to think of the question you wanted answered the most. There were so many.

“Who am I?” You blurted out finally.

“You’re going to have to narrow that down, little one. He can’t answer your whole backstory without giving you another panic attack. Your head has to sort it out. Too much information and it won’t be able to handle it,” Boba interjected before Mando could say a word.

You stared daggers into the back of his head. Sure, he may have experience with memory loss according to Mando, but did he have any true idea? The humiliation of relying on others when you should be able to piece together everything yourself was beyond irritating.

As if sensing your anger, Boba turned his seat to face you, “You may not like my input, girl, but it is for your own benefit. You think your fit down there was bad? If Mando tells you the wrong thing or too much it could shut your brain down permanently from the trauma. Your brain is trying to heal on its own. Give it time and we’ll see if those at Pollis Massa can help. If not, then it’s up to you and your brain. So, be angry all you want. It won’t help you one way or another.”

“Easy for you to say when you have all your memories and a purpose,” you snarled back.

“You aren’t listening. Mando can’t give them to you. You’ve got to learn and heal. Until then, try to refrain from asking.”

Mando turned towards you now, “Runi, it’s for the best. Boba Fett’s right. I can’t answer everything. It truly is for the best. We’ll figure it out together.”

“You said you can’t answer everything, but can you answer some things?” You couldn’t help the spark of hope that lit your face and ran through your body with a warming glow.

Mando looked to Boba with the silent question and Boba just shrugged in response, “We’ll see. If you want to ask, go for it. I won’t answer you if it seems like a bad idea.”

You nodded your head excitedly since you would take anything at this point. Boba’s advice of not trusting anyone until you got your memories back still echoed in your mind, so you figured clarity would be best to discover if you could trust these two or not.

“Who are you?”

The Mandalorian froze with unnatural stillness. Boba snorted with amusement, but they were silent.

“Oh come on! You can at least start from the beginning. I don’t know you, so pretend it’s the first time meeting me.”

He thought it over and decided to play along, “I’m a Mandalorian.”

You groan in frustration and drop your hands onto your hips to further show you annoyance, “You do realize that means nothing to me and I don’t know what that is, right?”

Mando clears his throat in discomfort, “Sorry, usually people know us by reputation.” He shifts in his seat and fully faces you, “I live by a Creed. The Creed of Mandalorians is a serious one. We live in secret, train from a young age, and defend our people. We are a warrior clan. Our Creed never allows us to reveal our faces in order to maintain the secrecy of our identities to keep us safe. We used to live on Mandalore, a planet in the Outer Rim before it was destroyed by the Empire, so we have adapted. Learned to be bounty hunters, protectors, mercenaries. Whatever it took to survive.”

You have a lot of questions. So many more to add on to what you already have in your head. You blurt out the first one, “So you’ve never taken your helmet off? Is that why both of you keep wearing them all the time?”

“Easy there, princess. I’m not a Mandalorian like him,” Boba interjects, “I’m just a simple man making his way through the universe. Following my father’s footsteps and his ways. He was a Mandalorian and I wear this to honor him.”

“So, why don’t you take your helmet off? Is it against your rules?”

Boba doesn’t hesitate and reaches his fingers under the helmet. It comes off with a hiss and he turns to face you. His face is scarred. He has no hair, he is more tan than you would’ve expected for someone wearing armor all the time, but his face seems set to a permanent scowl. He looks scarier without the helmet. Not because of the scars but because of the eyes. His eyes look dead, emotionless. You can’t stare at them for long. You choose to look anywhere on his face, but his eyes.

“I wear it because people are intimidated by what they can’t read. What they don’t know, they fear. It has nothing to do with a creed. Just plain business tactics.”

These men were truly strange. You had no idea why they needed to be anymore intimidating than they already were. They look like they could break your bones with fairly little effort. They also sounded like they were in a cult, which was definitely disturbing to you.

“Then why can’t you take your helmet off, Mando? Besides secrecy. If you never take it off then don’t you just become just a Mandalorian and never the man underneath? Like how is it a secret if you just become it?”

He cocks his head to the side in thought. He’s silent for awhile trying to come up with an answer when he finally comes up with a simple answer, “This is the way. Spouses of Mandalorians can reveal their faces, but no one else needs to see it.”

You aren’t convinced. This just sounds like an excuse, “So your spouse has seen your face?”

He coughs and sputters out, “Uh no, I’m not... I’m not married.”

“So what if you die without anyone seeing your face? You’ll be unknown? What if someone takes it off forcibly? Are you still a Mandalorian?”

Boba Fett just sighs, “Look, you asking more questions about the Mandalorian isn’t going to help you. I’m tired of hearing your questions. You aren’t getting anything but more questions. I don’t see this getting anywhere except on my nerves. You should just rest.” With that he puts his helmet on and turns away from you.

You want to be angry, but you can’t help but feel like he’s right. The introduction left you more puzzled than you already were about these men. Now there was a whole culture involved on top of the backstories for both them and you. It was a lot to process and your body was weak from your earlier episode. You were cold too still in the wraparound cloak and thin clothes. The thought of relaxing under warm blankets on a soft bed was tantalizingly tempting to your weary body. You left the cockpit without argument in search of comfort in warmth. It did sound like Mando and Boba started speaking to each other quietly behind you as you left, but you didn’t bother trying to pick out any words.

Before you could even explore, there were footsteps behind you. Mando followed you from the cockpit. His cape was in his hands instead of on his back, you noticed. He was wringing it in his hands nervously. He reached you and held it out, offering it to you, “You’re probably freezing.”

As if in response, your body shivered as you brushed his gloved hands to take it. “I am actually. I was thinking of trying to find somewhere to sleep actually. I haven’t properly rested on a real bed for awhile. Well, besides the hospital.” You take his cloak and wrap it around you, easing the chill that you hadn’t realized has set in your bones. Thankfully, the cloak was soft and smelled good. Pine, maybe? It smelled like the silver armor of Mando’s and woods. It was relaxing to your mind. Faintly familiar.

“I’m afraid Boba Fett doesn’t believe in comfort. Even if it is for himself.” He vaguely gestures to the ship and you look around seeing just how sterile everything is. Not a single thing that would reveal anything about the person that owned it. Just metal and cold. Much like the man flying it. “He has a very uncomfortable cot he hardly uses and only lets guests use it if they aren’t bounties. I figured the cloak might help a little too besides...” he waves his hand over your figure, “your thin hospital clothes.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find anything else besides this cloak on Utapau. I appreciate the extra warmth, thank you, Mando.” He nods once in acknowledgement and silence falls on you two. It’s uncomfortable. This man, who is supposed to be a fearsome warrior, bounty hunter is nervous and fidgety around you and it makes you nervous. You try to break the silence with literally anything.

“What’s your full name? Not just the Mando part.”

“Huh?” His attention is now laser focused on you in disbelief, “My name? People call me Mando, but it’s not my name.”

“Oh. I thought since you were Mandalorian, you had a last name to differentiate between all of you. Sorry.”

“No, no you’re fine. I mean, you’re re-learning practically everything. Unfortunately, my name is a secret as well as my face.”

“So, what did I know about you? Anything? You said we were allies, maybe even friends, but it sounds like I know about the same information now as I did then.” The continuous lack of answers is infuriating. Why even bother talking to them if they aren’t going to tell me anything?

Mando matches your frustration with his own, “Why did you leave Pollis Massa if you’re so desperate for information? You were safe there!”

“I thought you guys were the bad guys! All I saw was everyone shooting other people, hanging out with bounty hunters and apparently upsetting the new form of government! I thought about staying, but all I saw was all of you at each other’s throats! What was I supposed to think? All everyone had told me made it sound like Mandalorians are the scariest bunch you don’t want to mess with, so excuse me for being wary!”

“We helped you escape from your cell! You were literally locked up when we found you! And hurt! Does that sound like the hands you want to be in?”

“For all I know, they were trying to help me! You guys didn’t exactly look like the nice rescuing type! All of you looked like emotionless droids armed to the teeth just waiting to kill everything in your path! That doesn’t inspire confidence and from what I saw, you all desperately want to fight all the time!”

Mando doesn’t respond. Without him even saying anything, you know that you messed up somewhere. Just not really sure where or how, but you could swear you feel his anger in your own soul. It overpowers your anger and makes you feel worse for pushing him to this.

He steps closer to you, crowding your space. The armor may be cold, but the heat radiating off of him is scorching you. You take steps back, but there’s only the hull of the ship behind you with its cold biting into your back and now cold armor biting into your front. You can’t look at the black visor staring into the depths of your soul. You don’t know why, your only guess is his reaction, but you feel guilt about something you said. This whole argument feels pointless now.

“Is that all we are? Emotionless because of our helmets? You think we are just murder bots coming to kill and destroy whatever we find? You acted like you knew better when I asked if you remembered me, but if that’s what you truly think, then I won’t hurt your head trying to get you to remember otherwise.” His voice is level the entire time, never shouting, but so cold. When he walks away, you catch your breath you had been holding and somehow, his lack of presence makes his icy words that much worse. You don’t have memories to go to in order to block out the noise of what just happened, so his words are so loud in your head. Berating, cutting, throbbing in your mind.

With tear filled eyes, you eventually find the sleeping quarters and shut the door behind you. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said Boba had lack of comforts. The cot was thin and firm. Like sleeping on a wooden plank. Not that you felt like sleeping.

The argument keeps playing through your head. It’s extremely unfair of him to be mad at me when I don’t even know if I’m insulting someone. I shouldn’t have been so angry, but he could cut me some slack.

You quietly cry in the confines of Boba’s room with Mando’s cloak wrapped tightly around you.

———————————————————————

Sleep was elusive. The anger, pain and sorrow still battered your soul. The ceiling became the most interesting thing to your eyes. You had counted every bolt, seen every shadow and the shapes they made. The grey tones of the ship started blending together with the tears in your eyes to make a stormy scene above you. A part of you could still feel the residual anger from Mando deep in your heart and focusing on that emotion kept you from falling too deep into a depressive state, and the sleep that your body desired.

You couldn’t understand how you could literally feel what he had felt in that moment. Nor the way you could feel the sense of safety that had drudged up from locked memories. It crowded out your own emotions. Your anger had been small compared to the insult he had felt. You were just mad at the lack of answers that they were giving you without even seeming to care that you were drowning in a body that didn’t feel like your own.

The ship lurched slightly with the suddenness of exiting hyperspace. You could feel the thrumming of the engines whine down. Since you had nothing better to do, you sat up and exited the room. Perhaps Pollis Massa will unlock my memories and I can move on with my life.

Slave I landed with a thud and the hatch opened leading to one of the landing platforms you had seen last time you were here. Boba and Mando descended from the ladder and you waited for them to lead the way. Mando took the lead, but Boba stayed on by the exit. You stopped and looked at him wondering why he wasn’t following.

Mando turned when he didn’t hear your footsteps following. When he saw you staring at Boba, he walked back up, “Boba isn’t coming with us. Let’s go,” he reached to grab your hand, but you turned back to Boba Fett, effectively keeping your hand out of his reach.

“Why aren’t you coming with us?”

He leveled his gaze at you, “I have business on Tatooine. A new business deal. I’ve already lost more time than I would like on this adventure. Now go on, you need to get going. You’ll be in my way otherwise.”

This time you felt a hand grab your arm leading you off the ship, a filtered voice sounded right by your ear, “I appreciate the help. Good luck with your venture.” The Mandalorian helmets nodded to each other and both turned away without another word.

You finally wrestled free from Mando’s grip and turned to follow him, “I thought you guys were friends. How are you going to get anywhere without a ship?”

“That’s a thought for a different time,” he answered bluntly. You got the feeling he was still pissed from earlier, so you let the questions die.

———————————————————————

Mando led you to the med bay in silence. The floating droids had led you to the same room you had been in when you woke up. Mando stood to the side of the room, facing towards the entrance as if guarding you. You vaguely remember him saying that he would guard you to that girl Cara. You didn’t know why you would need guarding if this was a safe place, but you figured he wouldn’t answer any questions you had right now even if the silence was heavy as if both of you had storms brewing in your heads, waiting for the other person to speak before lashing out.

You fiddle with the sheets on the bed you had been instructed to sit on while they prepared for all the tests they were going to run. They hadn’t said what that would involve, nor if it would be painless or just scans. Nervousness kept you jumping at any sound you heard from outside the room.

You broke the silence between you and Mando just to hear something besides your racing heart, “Do you think it will hurt?”

He turned his head to you, but not his whole body, “I don’t know,” he turned back to looking out to the hallway.

This is a man sized child. “Not like you would care anyway, I guess,” you whispered to yourself.

Against all odds, he turned to face you fully with a quickness that made your heart sink to your stomach as if he had actually heard your words.

“What?”

Before another argument could break out, the hallway door slid open and one of the floating droids came inside. Mando clenched his fists, but relaxed a little as the droid came over to your side of the bed.

“Hello, Miss. I’ve been assigned to examine your head. You’ve been dealing with memory loss, correct?”

The droid had a tiny mouth that moved with each word. It was smaller. About half your size. The voice was soft, soothing. It calmed your nerves.

“Uh, yeah. I can’t remember anything about my past. My name, family, friends, anything. I heard my mind may have been wiped.”

The droid hummed in response, “Typically, that practice is reserved for droids receiving new owners or prisoners during war. The practice has been outlawed by the New Republic. It could be that, but let’s check your head. It could be injured and a simple injection of bacta directly to your brain may fix the problem.”

“Will any of it hurt?”

“Oh no, Miss. All tests and procedures are painless. Just relax while I do a preliminary scan and we will go from there, alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. A hatch by the chest of the droid opened revealing a blue light that started at your face, momentarily blinding you, slowing scanning down to the bottom of your neck all the way back up your head.

“I have my initial scans. I will be back shortly while my colleagues and I gather more information and read over the data. Please, try to relax.” With that, the droid floated away and left you alone again with Mando who was now staring at you.

You wanted to ignore him since his earlier reaction to the argument, which hadn’t eased up the tension from earlier nor his shortness with you.

“I’m sorry for earlier.” You still didn’t look at him as you said it afraid he would see you as weak or just be too angry.

“I was just upset that you guys won’t tell me anything. I get it’s for my own good, but you just keep telling me to trust you; yet so far I’ve been locked up, hurt, shot at, flown to unknown places, hunted, shot into the air, and apparently whipped. You keep telling me that I know you and trusted you at one point. I want to believe you. It’s just feels like you keep hiding the most important things from me. You also got mad at me for something I didn’t even realize was super insulting to you because I don’t know why it would be. I’m sorry for the emotionless comment. I know you feel emotions, obviously. Please, just try to be patient with me. We are starting from scratch, ya know?”

He doesn’t respond and you finally turn your head to try to get a read on him. He’s now right in front of you, which should be impossible since you didn’t hear him with all that armor on. His hands are on the rails of the bed and he’s leaning over you. It should make your heart stop right there staring up at a silver and black helmet that could kill you with a headbutt. Or die by heart palpitations since it’s starting to pound.

He leans further down and gently places his helmet against your forehead. Instinctively, you close your eyes against it. The metal is cool and refreshing.

The absence of sight makes his voice sound less robotic. You can hear the gruff voice underneath the coder.

“I apologize too. You didn’t deserve it, Runi. I’ll try to be more patient. You must understand though, I am used to a different you. Seeing your face, but not the same mind is a new adjustment. I’ll be more patient too, but please extend that same patience with me.”

“I forgive you. You’re right. I didn’t think about how it is for you, but I’m at a disadvantage. You know way more than I do at the moment. Like what does that word mean? The runi?”

His head snaps up from yours in surprise. He fumbles for something to say and acts embarrassed, “It means...”

The hallway door slides open again and the droid floats back into the room. Mando jumps backs away from you before the droid even fully enters the room.

The droid comes to your side again and starts poking you with a needle, drawing blood and more scans. More droids pop into the room with a monitor.

The first one speaks quietly to the others in another language for a bit before finally turning back to you.

“There is good news. Your brain is fully healed. You have no existing physical problems; however, the memory loss is not something we can heal. It is not something physical that can be solved with any of our equipment or techniques.”

“What? You can’t do anything to help?” Mando sounds more upset than you feel at the moment. You hadn’t expected much. You hadn’t had a chance to really think about what would happen if you gained your memories back. Now that you wouldn’t, the sense of hope that had been in your heart, shattered completely. You just assumed you would be yourself again and the old you would be back. There wouldn’t be any reason to be upset or confused anymore. Was there nothing to do now? Were you stuck like this forever now? Learning through painful memories?

You covered your mouth with your hand to hold in the tears as best you could. You felt wet warmth slide down your face regardless. You couldn’t see properly.

“Unfortunately, no. There’s nothing we can do. It does not mean it’s a hopeless cause, however. I am only saying that there’s nothing we can offer you.”

“So, what can you offer us?” Mando grounded out.

“The best we can give you is advice. You need to heal her mind. Taking her to places that mean the most to her might trigger her memories.”

“I was told that would hurt her mind.”

“As long as you don’t push her, it should be fine. Start with important places and take it slow. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s too much of a risk, there are those that claim strong connection to the minds of others. You may try them.”

Mando sighed in frustration, “That’s the best you’ve got? I don’t even have a ship.”

It’s hopeless.

“You can try on of the captains on the landing platforms. They may be willing to give you passage or even sell. This planet is a refugee center now as well. Someone may sell you a ship.”

Mando nodded and the droids left the room. He looked back to you. He crossed the room back to you; once in front of you, he gently grabs your chin to tilt it up to face him.

“I swear, I will fix this. Just stay here and I’ll head down to see what I can find.”

Mando turns to leave, but you shoot out your hand to grab his arm, “Please let me go too. I don’t want to stay here alone with my thoughts.”

He looks back at you and you can tell he’s considering. You’re almost afraid he’ll say no before he finally answers, “Alright. Let’s go.” He reaches for your hand that’s on his arm and puts it in his gloved one, gently pulling you from the bed.

———————————————————————

After hours of talking to pilots, crew, literally anyone Mando and you could find to speak to about passage or buying a ship, both of you found one lonely older, green Twi’lek male unloading everything from an equally older looking ship. The ship had rust along both of its wings that came together in a “V” shape with the cockpit in the middle. It did have weapons and hyperdrive capabilities, much to Mando’s approval. The inside had plenty of room for you and Mando plus any cargo space for supplies. There was a larger refresher than Boba Fett’s. The sleeping nook was larger and more comfortable than Boba’s as well. Overall, the inside was clean and to your liking. Mando just seemed happy about the weapons and hyperdrive with little regard to the rest.

The Twi’lek negotiated with Mando about the price. Mando talked him down for repairs and tuneups that were needed and the Twi’lek accepted. He was anxious to be rid of it in order to retire on Pollis Massa. So, Mando handed over the credits and you both boarded the new ship, The Vanguard.

Neither of you had much in the way of supplies. You literally had the clothes on your back and Mando somehow had more weapons than you could’ve guessed he could hide on his body. The sinking realization that you would have to stop for supplies before you could focus on your memories took hold in your mind. You were tired of stops and delays.

“So, what’s the next step?” You asked Mando from inside the cockpit. He was fiddling with the controls and starting to warm up the engines.

Without turning from what he was doing to respond, “My best idea is to see someone about possible repairs and supplies first. After that, I’m not really sure.”

“But what about-“

“Look, I know you’re anxious for your memories to be returned, but without actual healing, I’m at a loss, okay? If I take you to places that are important to your past, I could ruin your chances and I’m not putting you in that position!”

“Mando, I need my memories. Maybe if we start with my home planet that would be a decent spot to slowly start the process.”

“You never told me where you were from.” He admits quietly.

Again the frustration with your past self rises up, “Why didn’t you ask??”

“I didn’t need to know.”

You groaned out a muffled scream. If you could punch your past self and Mando, you absolutely would.

“So, what do you want to do?”

He’s quiet and turns fully to you. “I do have a friend. She can connect with others on a mental level. Weird magical power stuff. She might be able to help you. We may even find supplies there.”

A friend? He has friends, that are girls? I didn’t think him capable.

You weren’t sure why, but your heart felt like it was corroding with an acidic build up. The thought of the girl made you feel uneasy. You hadn’t even met her, so why did you care? She was a friend and she could help you. You should be grateful.

“Have I met her?”

“Yes.” Of course that would be the only response from him. You rolled your eyes at his lack of explanation.

He caught that look and elaborated, “You liked her. She’s nice.”

It wasn’t much more, but at least you knew she wasn’t mean. It still didn’t shake the feeling that you were anxious about meeting her.

“Where is she?”

“Last I saw, Corvus. Hopefully, she’s still there.” He turns back to the controls and the ship roars to life, “Now sit down. We’re taking off.” You do as your told and watch as the ship leaves the slow, peacefulness of Pollis Massa and fires off into hyperspace.

———————————————————————

Everything within the oxygen filled environment is on fire. Bodies and parts are strewn across the floor. The air smells like blood and burning flesh. Anyone that is still alive, crawling on the floor are wishing they were dead compared to their pain.

There’s one such being in front. A black boot lands on his head, effectively halting his crawl. Leaning down, a man’s voice echoes loudly in the now silent rest area.

“Have you seen a girl around here lately?” A gloved hand fills the vision showing a picture that looks like you to the dying man.

“No, n-no.”

“Pity.” Fear, bone-chilling, unadulterated fear fills your whole body. The voice sounds like Death itself. A red flash and a simple swipe from the gloved hands, decapitates the head from the body and boots move on.

“Lord Laz!” A humanoid black droid comes into focus. “I was able to recover some footage from one of the med bay droids. It shows her with a Mandalorian.”

“Really?” The voice purrs. “Did you find out where she went?”

“Partially. Sounds like they bought a ship and left here not too many cycles ago.”

The asteroid shakes as something explodes nearby. The gloved hands reach up and fire emits from them, burning the surrounding area.

The voice fills the emptiness again, this time with fury, “Find what you can about what ship and then we are destroying this place.” The view changes to show the once beautiful Pollis Massa now turned to ruins.

“Yes, milord.”

The sudden wailing and screams of terror fills the vision. The dreaded voice is gone, but fear and pain are left behind.

——

“Hey, wake up!” You spring out of your seat. A cold sweat chills you further along with the cold of space. Your breaths are labored. You can’t remember where you are until a silver helmet fills your view.

“Relax. It was a just nightmare.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No, I think it was worse than that.”

28 notes · View notes

chicagocityofclans · 3 years

Photo

Rayner “Ray” Hamelin → Brandon Routh → Rat

→ Basic Information

Age: 547

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Born

Birthday: June 5th

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Religion: Deism

→ His Personality Ray is one of the most clever show men in Chicago. He can put on any face that he needs, while disguising the dark tumultuous storm that is nearly constant. Many know him as the likable and affable Hamelin brother, the one who always has a joke or an easy smile on his face. He’s flirty and funny and has a way with everyone, regardless of species. Others know him as the international spy and liaison with hundreds of Rats at his discretion to send in any direction he wants. He has a way of seeing underneath the plots and plans of other clans and is generally successful when he takes aim. While these sides of the show man are the easiest to digest, he has a habit of fleeing before others can see the dark streak that runs beneath everything. He never stays in one place for long and finds it nearly unbearable unless there is a purpose.

A third face, rarely seen by anyone still alive, is one of ruthlessness and rage. A type of rage only the oldest of animal shifters could have. He, like his brother Nick, has a dark twist that belies the level of calm he typically approaches the situation with. While his viciousness doesn’t lay beneath every decision, it comes out in furious storms leaving wide spread paths of destruction in its wake. The best case can be seen in his and Nick’s attack upon the underground. They killed 400 vampires in hours and left without a scratch. It took weeks for Ray to fully calm down from that, and other, more innocent bodies, were left in his wake.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Full time Second of BOND

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Clint Eastwood and Nyota Uhura

Two Dislikes: Stagnant People and Being lied to

Two Fears: Nick dying and Blown covers for his agents

Two Hobbies: Museum Tours and Learning Languages

Three Positive Traits: Affable, Flirtatious, Intelligent

Three Negative Traits: Deceptive, Flighty, Vicious

→ His Connections Parent Names:

Flynn Hamelin (Father): Flynn is still alive and well in Hamelin, Germany. The Germany pack usually remain in their rat forms and run missions for their government. The Hamelin pack only takes on their human forms in dire situations, much like when Nick and Ray were kids. The lines were blurry between being a leader and being a father for Flynn when it came to Nick and Ray. In the past few years, Flynn has been making hints towards possibly retiring and wanting Nick and Ray to return home. Ray has been home more regularly than Nick, especially when he was away with BOND. He knows there is an expectation for the brothers to return, and Flynn has spoken to Ray about taking over himself. It feels claustrophobic. Never leaving, never being able to go farther than four legs can take you in a day. Ray is much more connected with the modern world and doesn’t see himself returning permanently.

Lina Hamelin (Mother):Ray is much closer with his mother than his father. They say the bond between a rat mother and her baby is one of the strongest bonds. He feels that closeness with Lina; she can take one look at him when he returns home and see the sins he carries with him, and absolve him of them with a single smile. She’s always the one to call and ask him to return home to see her, which he does far more frequently than Nick. Though she also hopes for his and Nick’s return to Germany, Ray doesn’t quite think she believes it will happen. The last time he left, a brief visit after Ben died, his mother changed to send him off. There was a sadness in her eyes, but also a resoluteness. He hasn’t found it in himself to go back to see his parents since then and Lina has now been asking Jo to pass the phone to him at the ends of their conversations.

Sibling Names:

Nick Hamelin (Brother): Ray has always looked up to Nick. He has been the model he strived after for centuries, and Ray thinks he’s lived up to it all. Ray and Nick have killed and would die for one another without any extra thought. They will be one another’s best friends until the very end. That being said they differ on one key point; which is Ray’s love to roam. He’s never been good at being in one place at a time and was the one who constantly pushed to move when they were a young fledgling of a pack. He’s craved seeing the world in a way that maybe only Ben understood, and it’s hurt Nick to the core. He hates knowing that Nick waits up to see if he’s fine, especially when the check was late due to only a distraction on Ray’s behalf. He’s seen his brother much happier since he’s been home, and frequently under the same roof. It’s made Ray happy, and has almost deterred the deep seeded need to run off onto a new adventure. He loves his brother and is well aware their relationship isn’t healthy. He didn’t realize how extreme the dependence was until he lost it last year. Had Nick not held Ray back himself, hundreds other non vampires would have been killed.

Children Names:

Mary Lang (Possible Daughter): Ray always believed his desperate need for independence and utter freedom would make him a terrible parent, but he’s found a lot of inner peace “fathering” Mary. Even though he’s nearly positive that Mary is Ben’s, he’s incredibly grateful that she’s stumbled into his life. It’s awoken a parental desire for Ray, that he’s never had before.

Romantic Connections:

Klaudia Hull (Ex-Girlfriend): Klaudia is a member of the Hamelin pack in Germany. Ray thought he was in love with her, and would go back only to see her. However, the relationship only lasted about 30 years. She tried leaving with him, Nick, Ben, and Jim, but could not stand being away from her family. It was a tough blow for Ray to realize that no matter how compatible someone may seem, they may not be worth strapping down a part of yourself. They would often fall into bed when he came back home, but every time he asked her to leave with him (which he did every time) she gave him a sad smile and a shake of her head. She is still alive and well, and recently wedded.

Mariyam Mckenna (Ex-Girlfriend): Mariyam Mckenna was a wild woman. She was human, but took the bite not long after meeting ray. Unfortunately for him, she fell in love with another member of their pack. Ray was heartbroken, but wished the two of them luck. She is still a part of their clan, and her Great something grandson, Helo has moved up into a head position.

Doria Lang (Ex-Fling): Once again, Ray was the second pick to Ms. Doria Lang. This one he was happy to step aside for Ben. Ben was madly in love with her, and though most couldn’t see it, he confided in Ray. When they had a fiery break up, Ben found something to destroy and Doria found Ray and also apparently Jim. Ray still feels shame about giving into her, and cast himself out to work on BOND internationally as a penance to Ben. When he returned home, he finally told Ben what happened, who forgave him readily.

Monica Phelps (Ex-Girlfriend): After centuries of being picked over, Ray chose to keep things casual with women around the globe. Monica is a rat contact Ray met in Madrid. She was absolutely gorgeous and came onto him the first week of knowing one another. Monica is always interested, and Ray has flown to Spain explicitly for her. He hasn’t seen her in 3 years, however, when he met Neaera he lost interest in many others. They still talk, and her pack finally agreed to secede to the Chicago Clan last year.

Indigo Irwin (Ex-Girlfriend): After centuries of being picked over, Ray chose to keep things casual with women around the globe. Indigo was stationed in Bangkok to keep an eye on the local Cat population. They did not see each other as often, but they made the most of the time they had. They stopped seeing each other 2 years ago when Ray met Neaera. Indigo reached out to him after Ben’s death, but Ray never responded.

Neaera Jayweed (Interested): Ray blames the universe in the absolute bungling of his shot with Neaera. It was almost a year straight of flirting and convincing her to come back to Chicago with him. He’d pulled away from all the other casual relationships that he had and found himself falling for her. It had been the first time since Doria that he’d opened himself up to the possibility of things becoming serious. They’d finally fallen into bed and things had started going steadier when RED was attacked and he’d found out Ben had died. The wave of pain and anger that hit Ray was overwhelming, and he felt the darkness overloading his senses. Ray gathered anyone with experience dealing with vampires to Chicago and he got to work avenging Ben. He spent weeks after eliminating the 400 vampires teetering on the edge of losing it again, and went on a brief but effective killing spree out West. Nick had to come and get him and it took months before Ray realized he left Neaera high and dry. He contemplated calling but was stopped between his shame over forgetting her and the darkness that overtook him. He hopes to salvage something with her when she comes to Chicago, but knows ultimately things will not be easy to rescue.

Platonic Connections:

Jo Floyd Hamelin (Sister-in-Law): Ray loves his sister-in-law. She’s not the choice that Ray expected Nick to make, but he truly believes that Nick and the clan is all the better for it. Had they not met when they did, Ray wonders how different the pack would be. He is incredibly protective of her and is actively hunting down the man who changed her. Ray finds it incredibly sad that Jo does not have the same comfortable feeling in her shifted form that the rest of their family does and knows Frank is the person at fault for it.

Ben Ehrlich (Best Friend): Ben had always been like a third brother to Ray and Nick. They both had the wild and wandering spirit, and up until RED became a full time job Ben would often go around the world with Ray. He had a sense of humor and charm that rivaled Ray’s and always put their pack first. When he was killed, Ray felt like he’d lost a part of him. He was shaken to the core and could only think of how to make anyone feel a fraction of what he did. Ray has created the habit of talking to Ben in the year since he’s passed. Often it is to help him sort out a problem aloud, but sometimes he just gives updates on Mary and the rest of the clan.

Jalissa Toll (Best Friend): Jalissa has always liked him best. They’ve been good friends since she found them and he finds her a vital part of their pack. He is happy that she has found her own inner peace with Micah and adores her children. She is one of the few that can bring him off of when he is beginning to go too far.

Jim Montgomery (Best Friend): Jim and Ray may initially seem as opposite as Ray and Nick. However, the two both share a habit for forming obsessions and a heady anger. There is no one, save for Nick, that Ray would rather have at his side.

Shelton Mills (Best Friend): Shelton joined last in their merry group of men, and at first Ray didn’t get what Nick saw in him. As the years progressed, Shelton has shown his value in being the cool and collected member weighing in on tough decisions. They have become close over the years and Ray considers him one of his best friends.

Jaxson Idris (Pseudo Nephew): Ray has been in Jax’s corner long before he ever met him. When Nick reported what he’d come across, Ray was outraged. He went to investigate and found the pack was just as bad as Jax described. Ray pushed immediately to keep him and always saw potential in the young wild card of a rat. He is proud of what Jax has become and knows he is destined for greatness.

Samantha Whitney (Packmate): Samantha was another of the rats who came in from an abusive pack. Ray had to confirm her story, which was unfortunately true. From the day she got to Chicago she has worked tirelessly to succeed. He was impressed as she passed through each level of training rather easily. Nick and Ray saw a dependence begin to form between Sam and Jax and chose to split the two up when they permanently joined BOND. Ray soon moved Sam to London to see what she could do, and was in the midst of training her when the attacks happened. Their training has fully stopped, and he knows she’s upset with that and possibly him.

Conrad Kale (Packmate): Conrad had a lot of things thrust at him while recovering from the gas attack, and Ray knows he was not initially the best support for him. Too much pain over Ben clouded his judgement, and ironically the only thing that helped was talking to Conrad about his pain over Ben. He now tries to be an open ear whenever Conrad needs advice.

Micah Toll (Friend): Ray genuinely likes Micah. He is glad they were able to find a way to bring him into the pack, though it required breaking many ethical rules. Ray keeps a close eye on him, always a bit suspicious that he may wake up one day and realize the truth. If he does, Ray has no problem with making him disappear.

Max Vanes (Packmate): Ray has many times had to stop Max and Nick from getting into larger and more extreme fights. He isn’t totally sure what it is about her that gets under Nick’s skin, and doubts he ever will. Max made it a habit from when she was young to seek Ray out when she felt her most vulnerable. Looking back, it may have been Max who was his first experience at “parenting”. He trained her to be his number 2, and she is the head of all local liaisons.

Kris Jayweed (Packmate): Ray brought Kris over from England to help bolster RED’s numbers. He has done well at adapting to a new town and environment, and Ray is proud of him.

West Freeman (Packmate): West has begun to be somewhat of a liability, but Ray is hesitant to pull him off. Despite what the peanut gallery has said about him, West always brings back information and a part of Ray believes that some flexibility is required with BOND.

Dakota English (Packmate): Dakota lost her eye in an accident on BOND about a year and a half ago, which left Ray more distressed than he allowed the pack to know. One of his biggest concerns is the safety of the BOND agents and that Dakota was permanently maimed because of a call she had to make is deeply unsettling for Ray.

Piper Taylor (Packmate): Piper is a solid BOND agent, who focuses primarily nationally. She had a similar story to Jo’s but seems to have really embraced her rat form. Piper has come a long way since joining their pack.

Henry Dean (Packmate): Henry is head of weapons for BOND. He was removed from the field after having images of his face spread around to different massive huntings groups. Ray thinks it may have been better to kill those who knew, but Henry has done well at adjusting over the past few decades.

Kylo ‘Nada’ Rajui (Liaison): Nada has always been one of Ray’s favorite liaisons. They have a similar sense of humor and Ray can talk to him for hours. He was saddened when he found out about Venus’s death and has offered any support he can to Nada and the hyenas as a whole.

Sarah Harris (Liaison): Sarah has been the Liaison for the Jackals for nearly a century. She is always easy to deal with and it is in no small part to her that the rats and jackals have a good relationship.

Geri Beckham (Liaison): Geri is always a good conversation. She seems to be the most educated and worldly wolf and may be the only one Ray can say he enjoys speaking to. She is from Milwaukee and also has a deep appreciation for German food. When discussing business they’ll often go to Resi’s Bierstube for lunch.

Amaria Crais (Liaison): Ray never quite knows where a meeting with the Cats may go. They tend to be rather touchy, and he has found that it is best to leave conversations with them to Max whenever possible.

Sam Thompson (Liaison): Sam is fine, but too often tries to relate to him on a “bro” level. He would never go behind Nick’s back to spread doubt of his leads towards other clans and thinks he’s pathetic for doing so.

Emmett Wilhelm (Liaison): Ray does not hold the same intense dislike for the magical community. Yes, he wants their secrets, but he sees the value of them in their society. He has developed a friendly report with Emmett Wilhelm after realizing his German roots. He and Nick both get along well with Emmett and Audo Wilhelm and Ray believes it’s a positive step in the right direction.

Hostile Connections:

Cadmus Idris (Hates): Ray never forgets the pain done to those he considers his pack. Cadmus Idris abused both of his sons, manipulated their pain, and then tried to take them with him. Cadmus may be alive, but he will die by Ray’s hands one day.

Richard Frank (Hates): Ray never forgets the pain done to those he considers his pack. The state that Ray found Richard Frank’s pack in was disgusting and deeply damaging to all the rats involved. He made them hate their rat forms to this day, and Ray believes he should pay for that. Frank has eluded Ray for the past few decades. He seems to have escaped into Canada before going off the grid all together. Jo has started talking about him again after all these years, and Ray has already started putting more active agents on his tail.

Scorpius Getta (Hates): Ray does not believe Getta has paid enough for his actions. He also believes in keeping those in the city of Chicago alive and knows this is not the time for revenge.

Sven (Mistrusts): Ray has met Sven many times over the years. He rarely seemed to live in a seethe, which Ray always found surprising. He had the reputation for brutality and bloodthirst wherever he went, and Ray was not happy to see him on the streets of Chicago. He is on RED’s most dangerous list, and Ray has put an emphasis on him to Conrad.

Vincent Kane (Liaison): Ray and Vincent never get along. He is well aware that he shares Jim’s prejudice towards human shifters and just can’t stand him. Max has recently taken over communicating with him, which Ray isn’t sure is the better option.

Pets:

None

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

#Rayner Hamelin #Ray Hamelin #Taken

1 note · View note

ephemeralstatesofmind · 6 years

Text

Theory on the real motive of the Moon People

The theory will have spoilers from the manga up to chapter 62, so read with your own discretion.

So reading to the latest chapters of the Houseki no Kuni manga, it really made me thinking of the moon people’s motive, and I can’t exactly buy the whole idea they want to capture Sensei for the sole purpose of him praying for them to pass on.

Below I compiled a list of theories and evidence from both the manga and anime to what I think might be the moon people’s real motive and perhaps some ideas on how the manga might end up.

Disclaimer: I know that there are no biological genders or concrete evidence of preferred psychological perception of genders, so when I refer to a person as a “she” or “he” it is purely my own projection of how I perceive the characters. I do not have any intentions in offending anyone who otherwise assume or have no assumptions on a character’s gender. Furthermore I will be touching upon ideas of Buddhism as well as the story’s plot, but know that these are vast simplications and I do not have any formal knowledge on Buddhism- I do not intend to offend any teachings of Buddhism. I also wrote all of this trying to get my thoughts onto paper as well as I can so it might not be written very eloquently but I do hope that you will give some time and a chance to read my theory. And finally thank you if you read it until the end since I know its really long.

Doubting the moon people’s real nature. When Phos went to the moon it seemed like the moon people were not what she expected as they were kind and that they even had a civilization of their own. As she talked to the Prince, he justified that they attacked the gems because they wanted to retrieve Sensei. Their so called motive is that since they are the wandering souls of humans, they want Sensei to fulfil his original duties to pray for the moon people so they can pass on. This seems like a rather acceptable answer however there are doubts when you take into account how the moon people treated the slug people. As noted by the Queen slug,Ventricosus, when she met Phos she stated the moon people destroyed their land and abducted her people. And once on the moon, her people were treated unwell by being fed “sweet things” and “sand”.

Please make a note on the “sweet things” and “sand” as I will discuss this later on. The core point of Ventricosus’s passage is that the moon people are not as kind and otherwise harmonious as they seen. And lastly if the moon people’s centuries-long goal was to retrieve Sensei so that he can pray for them, why abduct the slug people in the first place?

The significance of the origins story. As shown in the manga and the anime, in a nutshell, many years after human civilization has died off, the humans split into three parts as what we know as the slug people- flesh, moon people- soul, and the gems- bone. So what is the significance of this origin story? I think that more than just to give the story a little “philosophical depth” I think it ties into the Buddhism imagery as well as the character’s inner troubles with immortality. As we know, many of the gems have a sense of desensitized emotions or difficulty processing the concept of death. Many of the gems seem human as they experience emotions, and even feelings of love and suffering. However they still lack that bit of humanity because they cannot process the concept of death, simply because they don’t actually experience it; unless they are permanently taken away or shattered. With the gem’s immortality, they begin to question their existence and the meaning of their lives. This results in them actually wanting to experience death as their immortality begins to weigh them down and cause them suffering. You can see this with Cinnabar as she states that she would rather be abducted by the moon people and face “death” rather than live infinitely with no purpose in her life. This is the same with Padparadscha who is eternally stuck in limbo and would rather never wake up. This craving for death is also shown by what is proposed by the Prince’s wish for death/to move on through Sensei’s prayer.

The suffering and desire of death by the gem people and the moon people ties into the themes of Buddhism. One of the core teachings of Buddhism is to escape the cycle of suffering through reaching Nirvana. Then in which you don’t have to go through the cycle of birth, suffering, and death. So in a sense, the moon people want to break their cycle of suffering through seeking a final death. And this is there where we can begin to understand, the true motives of the moon people. How can the moon people avoid suffering and achieve final death when they are immortal? Here I propose my theory and evidence that the moon people in actuality, do not necessarily just want Sensei to pray for them, in actuality the moon people want to reunite the three parts- flesh/slug people, bone/gem people, and soul/moon people to become a human whole again.

To become human again. I think the key part of how the moon people want to reunite all three parts and become human again is through Pho’s body.More specifically the living organisms/Inclusions within her. As shown, Phos’s Inclusions have no trouble accepting different gems and materializing them to become a part of her. Knowing this, the moon people might take advantage of Pho’s Inclusions and try to use them so that they can reunite as whole again. Further evidence can be seen with the “sweet things and sand” the slug people has been fed, which I touched on previously. It can be inferred that the “sand” is in actuality the grinded up captured gems that cover the Moon’s surface and that the “sweet things” are in actuality Inclusions.

There can be an assumption that Inclusions take a liquid form, because as shown through the anime, when Pho’s was eaten by the Queen slug and then later reconstructed, it was shown that a turquoise liquid was swirling and then combining back into Phos.

It is not currently known whether or not the moon people know the extent of Pho’s inclusions. Most likely far from when Phos was born, the moon people had already been abducting the slug people to experiment by feeing them the grinded gems and the “sweet things”. This might also be the significance of why the Queen was dropped onto Earth and swallowed Phos. We know that the Queen was not her typical size, since her original size was much smaller, but she was probably over fed that much so she could physically absorb a gem person.Further evidence of the moon people experimenting on Inclusions is the production of the artificial gems. As Phos took a tour on the moon she was shown the “factory” where they produced the artificial gems, there it was revealed that the moon people can create gems that look similar to the real thing and seemingly realistic Inclusions were even added to it. It was claimed that these Inclusions were so seemingly real that even Sensei couldn’t tell them apart.

This is important because this is concrete evidence that shows that there had been research to recreating real Inclusions. My belief is that instead of the focus on reproducing artificial gems, they are actually focusing on the reproduction of artificial Inclusions. The “sand and sweet things” that the Queen was referring to was actually the experimentation of creating artificial Inclusions and being fed together with grinded up gems to research on becoming a whole human again.

Saviour. Phos is a “saviour” symbolism as the Buddha that will achieve Nirvana. Phos has a lot of similarities with the origins of Buddha. The Buddha was born as a Prince and was prophesized by a monk that he was either to become a great king or a great spiritual. And through great lengths by the Buddha’s father, the King, he prevented the Buddha from experiencing the hardships of life until one day he went into town and saw suffering. This shows the parallels to Phos because for the majority of her life, she had no role within the gem community as she had no talent for anything. She merely spent her days existing in leisure. So as later decided on by Sensei, whom is also a monk (may just be a coincidence though), he finally let her start an encyclopaedia. Through that journey she met Cinnabar and discovered that she was suffering because of the poison that surrounds her. It was such a pinnacle and eye opening realization by Phos that she claims that “she will never forget it”. This meeting is similar to the story of when the Buddha went to the village and finally discovered that humans experienced suffering as he saw three things: a sickly man, an old man, and a corpse. Cinnabar’s suffering through her poison might be a parallel to the sickly man. Extending this, the corpse can also be thought of as Antarcticite’s suffering when she was “killed”. Antarcitcite’s death had an immense impact on Phos. So much to the point she begins to have hallucinations. This might also be a long shot, but the sufferings of the old man may be Padparadscha’s immortality or maybe Pho’s experience of loss as she continues to live infinitely. Another parallel that can be drawn is the wisdom that Phos gain when she met the moon people. After learning about the moon people’s ways she spread these ideas to the gems and convinced them to go with her to the moon. This is similar in the sense she is gaining follwers or disciples is through her teachings.

Phos and the gems that follow her might be the ones who are about to achieve the wisdom of enlightment. With these similar parallels I believe that Phos will be the symbolism for the Buddha she will be the one saviour that leads everyone to become one whole again and achieve Nirvana.

Significance of Sensei. Although I’ve thought much of the above points, I cannot say for sure what the significance of Sensei is. There has not been much exploration to Sensei’s past other than he used to be a machine that served the humans, but went his own way. Perhaps Sensei acts as a catalyst for the unification of all three parts. I’ve even thought that maybe he represents love- as he shows his love for the gem people. Perhaps Sensei’s reluctance to go return to the moon and “pray” for the moon people is because if he does he might lose the gems and he will become lonely. He may just “love” everyone too much to lose them all, or maybe for some other unexplained purpose.

Primordial soup. Taking into account these ideas I think that the conclusion of everything might lead to a bit of Evangelion-esque ending in which everyone ends up being unified into a primordial soup to begin the process of evolution again. Returning back to the sea and eventually becoming human again.

This theory has been bugging me last night and I’m glad to finally have it all out, but I’d love to have some input on what everyone else thinks of this.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #宝石の国 #personal #anime #manga #Phosphophyllite #antarcticite #moon people #tsukijin

39 notes · View notes

masterstrange-closed · 4 years

Photo

𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐗𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 (𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐄𝐑𝐀) / star wars prequel au.

This is an open au based on Star Wars, Focusing on the prequel timeline. Canon compliant mostly, with some ideas taken from Legends where it doesn’t conflict.

Stephen was born a Force Sensitive child born in the Republic and handed over to train as a Jedi at an earn early age in 52 BBY. He trained under Master Tao as a Padawan in the years leading up to The Clone Wars, he was shown to be quite skilled compared to others of his class with the force and was on the route to becoming a Jedi Knight.

He was twenty years old when the war broke out, and Master Tao was far too old to be on the front lines --- leading to him joining the Jedi Service Corps, as his Padawan, Stephen was forced to follow and wound up serving him in the Medical Corps. With forces stretched thin, it was deemed that his training for the Trials would be put on temporary hold for awhile. An action which initially frustrated the determined and stubborn Padawan learner.

Of course, this didn’t keep him away from combat. He was often one of the many on field medics --- eventually earning recognition for a natural talent in the field of medicine. Being thrust into the thick of it, attempting to ward off droid troopers while healing Republic forces showed him the very terrible and weighted cost of the battle. It began to toy at him, but he remained adamant that knighthood was what he sought --- until the day he was forced to take action against sentient life to save a medical convoy. This was when Stephen decided to change his path and pursue a path in the Service Corps with the blessing of his Master, who seemed to expect this all along.

The rest of The War continued, Stephen quickly rose through the ranks (although the desperation of the ongoing war was a cause for some of this quick acceleration) --- Stephen was looking forward to a promising future in the Corps until one of the final battles of the Clone War resulted in a disastrous crash of his Medical Convoy as it attempted to leave planet and return to the temple in retreat. Many casualties on board, and the few surviving did not go unscathed. Stephen awoke at the Jedi Temple weeks later to severe injury, a bit of memory loss and the permanent loss of his lands.

His peers attempted to guide him, urged him to control his feelings and press forward (in the typical Jedi way) but he was unable to do so. His superiors were reached out too, but they had little help to give. Echoing Jedi Tenants without engaging with him or the emotions he might be feeling. Almost shamed by some for allowing feelings of anger and grief fester in him as long as it did. Feeling lost; failed and a failure, Stephen Strange packed his bags and left the Jedi Order.

Master Tao was the only one who saw him off, giving him sad parting words that, upon later reflection, implied more about things to come than he notices. He also had stolen a display disk from the Archives, for when he was ready for it.

Order 66 occurred not long after, and Stephen felt it in the force --- the weight of the grief and pain coursed through him. He couldn’t help but feel guilt as well, he should have been there to help them. To save them. The knowledge that everyone he ever has known had now been slain was a weight he could hardly bare.

He heard the story, that the Jedi had planned a coup and were stopped. He knew that wasn’t true. Even in his darkest and angriest years towards the Jedi Order that failed him and others --- he knew that it wasn’t true. What he has originally intended to be a self-imposed exile, travelling about --- became a period of tension and disguise as the remaining Jedi were Public Enemy No. 1 and Force Sensitives were being hunted. Stephen Strange went to find somewhere to disappear until he could.

For the first five years of the Imperial regime, Stephen was a drifter. Hoping from place to place, never lingering long. Acquiring fake ID codes and earning credits when he could for food and shelter. He was sorely depressed and often relying on drink to drown his thoughts. More devastatingly, however, he closed himself off from the Force.

It was then that he was roped into local affairs of a small outpost when the Empire came to town and began abusing it’s power. He was planning to ignore it, and escape before being caught but when a solider turned towards the civilians. He had sworn an oath long ago, and Stephen couldn’t let them get away with it. For the first time, Stephen joined the fight to protect the innocent.

He felt a moment of freezing up, much like he did as a Padawan that fateful battle --- but his experiences had changed him, the world was not so black and white as it had once been. He did not fight to kill --- he moved to protect and was pushed to force. He did not kill them, he didn’t need to. The forces retreated, but they all knew it would be temporary.

His saber was lost though, he couldn’t wield it as before allowing for it to be destroyed in the fight. Only scraping by due to an unconscious summoning of the force. Salvaging the Kyber crystal from the hilt, he did all he can to help the people prepare themselves --- but ultimately knew the word of “the Jedi” on an outer rim planet would make these people the victim of harsher attack so he left.

The events had rattled him to his core, he had used the force in many ways before but never quite like that. It was so removed from anything the Jedi had taught or warned about. He knew that the force was used in differing way across the galaxy, and perhaps there was another way to save lives...

He just needed to find it.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒:

Stephen is five years younger than Obi Wan Kenobi, which would make him the following ages at key times: 20 (Phantom Menace); 30 (Attack of the Clones/The Clone Wars); 33 (Revenge of the Sith); 38 (STARTS PERSONAL QUEST); 47 (Rebels); 52 (A New Hope); 55 (Empire Strikes Back); 56/57 (Return of the Jedi); 86 (The Force Awakens/The Last Jedi); 87 (Rise of Skywalker)

Stephen does learn to use the Force beyond the way of the Jedi, but he never loses it entirely. It’s been ingrained in him forever, he often marries concepts and ideas from Jedi Forms to various others to work for him.

The Data Disc given by Master Tao includes where Stephen was from originally and his parents name, something he eventually looks into. Once he decides to start his quest for the other ways to help, he has no leads and turns to the disk for any direction to go. There, he finds his family. Two sisters, a brother, a mother and imperialist father with conflicted feelings about his return. He stays for awhile, until whispers of a force sensitive start earning attention. His father ultimately is the one to turn him over, fearing for the family --- but not before gaining a new direction from an old bedtime story from his mother, one he had be told before he was sent to the Temple. A legend that sounded very similar to people manipulating the force in new ways. He escaped before being caught, but it was close.

Stephen struggles to reopen himself to the Force, thus affecting abilities that would normally come easy to a force sensitive (intuition, heightened senses, etc). This is partially due to emotional baggage from his time with the Jedi and the rise of the Dark Side (he’s scared of his own dark side after his darker years). He is finally able to do so three years after his personal quest begins, seven years after Order 66.

Stephen joins the rebellion in its early phases, meeting up with an old acquaintance (personal headcanons are either Bail Organa or Kanan but open to change). He does not reveal his Force Sensitivity to the rebellion, revealing later that if he had it would have fallen to him to train Skywalker but that was not how the force wills it. It was not his destiny to do so. Moreover, he aligns himself in the med bay during the Imperial War.

He is one of the former Rebellion members to join The Resistance and is alive as of The Last Jedi.

Rise of Skywalker canon to come.

#𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 / star wars au.#𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 / star wars prequel au.#/ do not reblog.#/ personals don't interact.

0 notes

shopinapp-blog · 5 years

Photo

SHOPIN TOKEN SWAP UPDATE — BLOCKWELL PARTNER TO BRING RETAILERS NEW FUNCTIONALITY ON THE BLOCKCHAIN

Happy Sunday!

It’s an exciting time as we gear up to re-distribute Shopintokens to participants of our TGE.

If you’ve been following the story closely (https://medium.com/@ShopinApp/blockwell-and-shopin-partner-to-reissue-tokenswap-d1cd8d71cb8c) you will know we have been working hard to ensure there is a smooth process ahead.

What’s become more prevalent is the opportunity toinclude new functionality on the blockchain, that we are planning for the retailers and brands in 2019 and 2020. These include:

The universal shopper profile (2019)

The Shopin Brand Intelligence Engine(2019)

Ad exchange (2019/2020)

Branded Tokens for the retailers and brands (2020)

A peer-to-peer token exchange for shoppers to swap branded tokens (2020)

This kind of foresight is enabling us to think ahead, as the contract is non-upgradable.

In tandem with this, we have had some delays getting in touch with the major syndicate leads and aligning all the distribution data. These are incredibly complex distributions, which we are taking special care to ensure excellence in distribution.

These opportunities are rare and often come at unusual and unexpected times. We’re taking full advantage to integrate these features into the contract, as well as make sure a high standard of compliance.

We’re wishing everyone a superb New Year, wherever you are and whomever you are with. Here’s to a powerful 2019 for us all.

Eran Eyal— Founder and Co-CEO of Shopin

Josh from Blockwell:

It’s Josh from Blockwell. Those of you that follow the Telegram channel know that we’re pretty much ready to hit the swap button on the updated Shopin token. I know there’s been some concerns about how long this has taken, which is fair given the idle time you all experienced prior to our engagement.

The typical token distribution is as simple as having a list of wallets, a list of token amounts, and queuing things up en masse. Sending the actual tokens is the easy part as we demonstrate here:

https://rinkeby.etherscan.io/token/0x4e0a5b4271049f98ca7b6932eca7113b44720129

The real difficulty with your situation was:

the nuance around syndicates,

individuals,

KYC, and

the lovely challenge of syndicate members who were secretly acting as their own syndicate and whose members filed as individuals. This would cause a situation where we almost hit the button a couple weeks ago on what would have let those guys collect twice the tokens they were owed.

We’ve since solved all of those issues, and as we were preparing to queue things up Friday morning, I had the time to think through the token from your side of the equation. See I’m quite pleased with where it is from my side, with regards to the compliance tools, the ability to sort out things like the double pay problem, and the ability to hand this off to Shopin and their counsel and know that between the admin controls and the attorney controls they have everything they need to keep this thing alive regardless of where the regulatory climate heads.

As I got to thinking about it from your perspective though, I got a tad less happy with where the quality of the crypto product is. This is why you don’t have tokens sitting in your wallet at this very moment. I reached out to Eran and company for some ideas on additional holding variables and “hooks” we could put into place for Georgi(Shopin CTO) and the tech team’s ML and web interfaces to interact with the token in the coming months and years.

Once these tokens go live they will not have an upgrade function. They can be shut down, re-swapped, or sent to a wallet that gets frozen for a crosschain atomic swap but ERC20 is permanent. At most it can be locked up and swapped again in a few years. This led to an idea which I’ve explored with some of you in the Telegram and am now presenting here.

But first, a stark reality for those of you who haven’t grasped it: It will be a while till your tokens are liquid. This is not 2017. The world knows that this is more complicated than it was both for projects and for people like yourselves. Those projects that don’t address the missteps of their rush head first into an emerging technology will have them addressed by authorities eventually.

There are The kind of boxes the Shopin team is dedicated to checking, on the compliance and product integration side, to remove the lock timer and/or turnoff pause. This is being done by their counsel, we give no legal advice and offer no legal recommendations.

Blockwell believes that great solutions to the world’s challenges can accomplished with token technolgy. Viewing the current Blockchain industry and marketplace we see a misunderstanding of the potential and capabilities of tokens. The current industry has a myopic view when categrizing between only security or utility tokens and there’s a lot more potential then what’s currently been attempted.

Regardless, any token within our ecosystem that has raised money or is planning to raise we mandate an attorney and we put the issuance controls in the hands of the people who are trained make those calls. Our expertise is in the deep tech and the fundamentals of product design. We have tools to make compliance easier because we try to think about all sides of product design and usage which brings us to the choice I’m presenting to you today:

We can hit the button and send you these tokens as they already are, locked but securely in your hands.

We can continue to release Rinkeby iterations with “small” tweaks that we (meaning Blockwell, Shopin, and most important of all you guys) come up with and want to test.

We’ll finalize feedback on this coming Friday and deliver on Tuesday 8 Jan instead.

I’m open to either scenario, Shopin was a fixed bid and designed for us to solve one last really big problem before we move into our own compliant fundraising and scaling mode. I’m happy with where the product is on my side of the table, and I’m confident that with what we’ve learned from this we can take on any challenge the world of tokens has to offer.

That said, I’m committing another week towards experimenting on the ways to make it better on yours. From a business perspective we are far more on your side than we are on Shopin’s and they’ve known that since the beginning. We don’t pull punches but we also don’t believe in wasting time with blame, regret, or distractions. We prefer using our collective minds to turn dark clouds into silver lining.

The better economical move for us is to just send out #1 and be done with this so we’ll certainly respect that decision. We will be dropping a version of #2 on Rinkeby (which you can view at Rinkeby.etherscan.io) to all wallets which are on the list for Shopin tokens shortly. It has the ability for you to set a minimum price for Advertisers and Brands to be able to engage with you and for those entities (who have their own role associated with the token) to pay that price even through lockup.

Here’s a rudimentary example of that concept in action: https://rinkeby.etherscan.io/tx/0xcb7542e5ef07a4ffe231d74f8da436b385ed49b58a3a6758bba4d10d1285d584— Notice it’s a transfer but it’s also a function call from the input. If we go with option 2 we’ll do a few of these tests based on your feedback. This is a tokenomic model refinement and it’s something we are building into the core of the Blockwell product.

The BrandBidding concept isn’t speaking for the future of Shopin or their business model. It’s an experiment to get your minds going as the only way this is valuable to us is if we have a user directed ideation cycle. We’re more than clear on how top down token designs look but we’re open to an experiment in what giving the community of token holders a platform to experiment creates.

Regardless of the path we will need to wrap by Tuesday 8th January 2019 at absolute latest so please bear in mind. On the Rinkeby delivery, we’re working out a final piece of functionality to allow us to properly destroy the Rinkeby tokens after testing is complete so there can be no consideration of them as securities or taxable transfers.

To keep us efficient on processing which option to go with, please give your direct feedback to us here: https://goo.gl/forms/veAuTBYS1aQJ1Dhr2

Our mission at Blockwell is to raise the bar of quality while lowering the barrier to entry for businesses and early adopter as the industry as a whole moves into the “Early Majority” of the Technology Adoption Curve. We’re happy to have stepped in to help solve this problem and hope you’ll be as satisfied with the end result as we are with the insights we’ve gained working for you.

Here’s to a happy New Year.

Original Post here

0 notes

zephyrthejester · 7 years

Text

Reflecting on Season 2

Season 1 was an introspective look at what drove our main characters. It established the setting, told us what is what. Season 2 up-heaved everything; it was a maelstrom of horror and intrigue, plunging both the main characters and the viewers alike into a realm of emotional highs and lows. There's a thousand thousand things to say about the legendary quality of this season, and it pains me that I won't be able to express every thought I have. So in writing this, I'll take it one step at a time, as before.

I will begin by getting the negatives out of the way: I am a bit disappointed that long-standing plot points weren't addressed in any way this season. Corrupted Gems, Triangles™, The Crystal Heart/Temple, Lion (and the contents of its mane), Lars & Sadie, and even Malachite got pushed to the side. However, I am giving the show the benefit of the doubt here. Season 2's pacing was lightning fast, and gave us absolutely fascinating and bold plot developments. Fusion Experiments, Sardonyx, and Peridot were all sublime. If Season 3 starts handing out answers for the oldest questions, I'll be content. And... I suppose that's it, really. That's my one small, petty complaint. Hot dang.

Now. Let's talk characters.

Steven Quartz Universe took the back seat this season. Upon thinking it over, I've realized that Steven didn't really change in any obvious way. This season, Steven seemed to exist as a catalyst for the development of other characters, or only served as the viewer's window into the world. But that's not to say he didn't change at all. It was subtle-- extremely subtle. Steven has developed insecurities of his own that, in stark contrast to Amethyst, he keeps well hidden. We learned he wonders if the Gems blame him in some way for Rose being gone. We learned he's self-conscious about not fully belonging with either Humans or Gems. And even more so than in Season 1b, Steven has become far more mellow and low-key. He's still got that child-like sense of fun and that delightful earnest hope that all people and things can be redeemed. But there is a weight pressing down on him, burdening his journey into discovering who he is. This season, Steven has witnessed and discovered terrible things, from within the Crystal Gems and beyond. In the near future, with resolutions for the Cluster and Malachite on the horizon, it's likely that trend will continue. How long before he breaks? Which straw will be the last? I would also like to acknowledge that he has become far more competent. The off-screen training sessions with Pearl have allowed him true mastery over his Shield, and he's pulling off a few magic powers with ease. I'm excited to see this aspect of Steven's growth continue.

Pearl has been cracked wide open, her past raw and bare for all to see. Created to be a slave, she was freed in the process of the Rebellion and became the embodiment of everything the Crystal Gems fought for. Pearl is now an able fighter, intelligent and strong in ways she never could have been before. But despite the epic feat of her rebirth, Pearl allows herself to be haunted by the ghost of her past. She fooled herself into thinking she couldn't stand on her own. Without Rose Quartz, Pearl fell into a disoriented state. She's afraid to be alone. And in trying to deal with the loss of Rose, she exploited Garnet's security to leech that feeling of strength. It's tragic, but sympathetic. I understand why Pearl does what she does. But new information casts a disturbing shadow over many things. How much of Pearl's devotion to Rose was honest, and not a remnant of the way Pearls are designed to serve? How could Pearl not stop herself and realize she was trying to impose Homeworld's view on the worthlessness of Pearls on Connie? It all leads me to believe that Pearl is not done freeing herself from Homeworld's grip on her mind. There's still progress to made in this regard. Pearl lives in the past, and needs to learn to keep her gaze forward.

Amethyst has taken huge strides forward. Much like Steven, she's mellower and more serious. She shape-shifts much less, and is no longer playing at lone wolf. She has embraced being part of the team, and eagerly helps out where she can. Starting with Reformed, Amethyst has begun respecting herself, too. Indeed, when Amethyst learned that she's a runt, she took it surprisingly well. Season 1 Amethyst would have flown into a rage, and attacked Peridot. Season 2 Amethyst took the news hard, yes, but she displayed restraint and apparently let it go. I also appreciate Amethyst's quick interjection when the Sardonyx folly was revealed; She earnestly tried to take some blame herself to help out Pearl. Pearl, the person Amethyst butted heads so much with in the earlier season. Much like Steven, Amethyst's development here was subdued. I look forward to what lies in store for her. *cough Amedot cough cough*

Garnet, as I expected, was overshadowed by exploration into who her components are. Ruby and Sapphire make for convincing halves of Garnet's whole. At every turn, we can detect the undiluted traits that compose her. Ruby is emotional, and genuine. She's fierce, and proud, and willing to do what it takes to do what she thinks is right. Sapphire is restrained, and concise. She's calm, and smart, and wise. They truly complete each other, and this season made Garnet's existence very convincing. It also humanized her; She has moments of weakness and self-doubts, just like all the other Gems. Sometimes, Ruby and Sapphire don't see eyes to eye, and sometimes Garnet is at a loss for what to do, Future Vision be damned. And on top of all these things, Garnet has continued learning to express her emotions and open herself up to those she loves. And perhaps it is this very trust and openness that made the Sardonyx incident all the more bitter. Indeed, there were two separate moments this season where the very concept Garnet holds most dear was defiled in revolting ways. Fusion Experiments and Pearl's betrayal were both stunning moments that shook Garnet to her cores... literally. But these challenges to her existence served to reinforce her, not deter her. Garnet won't back down from being what she is, and is going to fight with everything she has to justify herself. All said, I am unsure what comes next for the three of them. I sure know I'm excited to find out.

Connie has taken big steps forward in both halves of her life. She's become a proficient swordswoman under the tutelage of Pearl, and an asset to the Crystal Gems. She has also bonded closer with her mother, including her in the magical life she's kept hidden, and eased the strict rules of the household. But... There's something that's really bothering me about Connie. The whole deal with her mother is, like, the one bit of agency Connie has. Everything else Connie does, says, or has happen to her is a plot device for Steven's sake. Greg at least has his own history predating Steven. Connie... is Steven's best friend and now combat ally. Can't she be something else? Maybe this is a petty complaint, but all I know is that I hope Connie becomes a bit more unique and self-sufficient eventually. That said, Connie is an engaging character, and I love it every time she appears on screen, and quite enjoy everything she does. Connie is fun, and I love watching her. I just want better for her, ya know?

I would be remiss not to talk at length about the MVP of the season. She's loud, proud, lean, mean, green, and smol: Peridot's arc was a tour de force invasion of my heart. Her transformation from thoughtless Homeworld drone, to terrified refugee on the run, to curious and analytical gremlin, to defiant Crystal Gem willing to speak against her Goddess was masterfully written. Organic and believable, the whole way through. Peridot's personality fills a hole in the Crystal Gems I had no idea was there; I am excited beyond words to see how the show will change with her permanent presence! Her every word and gesture was an insight into the mysterious ways of Homeworld.

To be honest, I struggle to say things about Peridot that I haven't already said across the season, or on Discord. So... please know that I freakin' adore this little green treasure, and fully appreciate every bit of nuance in her development. It's some Grade A+ writing, and I loved every second of it. And in case it wasn't clear, yes, she really is my favorite character on the show now.

All that said, we can now have some closing thoughts.

Homeworld is monstrous. We've learned so many things about its culture now, and I struggle to think of even one redeeming fact. They keep Pearls as slaves, they destroy planets, they callously kill any who dare step out of line, they torture the dead with unimaginable pain in the form of Fusion Experiments. So when the day comes that Steven, pure, innocent Steven, must fully understand that horrid way of life and fight back, well... There's just no way that Yellow Diamond's going to be swayed. There's no way that Steven's purity and innocence will survive against Homeworld's crushing presence. It's going to be horrifying to watch.

I think that about wraps it up. Perhaps a look forward is in order: In the near future, I expect the Cluster and then Malachite to be dealt with. From there, Lapis Lazuli and Jasper can be expanded upon. Old plot threads can be picked back up. And in the far future, I'd imagine the Diamonds await.

Finally. It is done. That is all I have to say about this legendary work of art. I calculate the score of Season 2 to be 86/100! Wait... That's exactly the same as Season 1b! If it were up to me, I'd rate this one a 100/100!

Oh well. I look forward to more Steven Universe, and I thank you for continuing this wonderful journey with me.

#Steven Universe Liveblog #Steven Universe #SU Season 2 #SU Liveblog #Liveblogging #Liveblog #Season Review

70 notes · View notes

masterstrange · 3 years

Photo

𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐗𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 (𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐄𝐑𝐀) / star wars prequel au.

This is an open au based on Star Wars, Focusing on the prequel timeline. Canon compliant mostly, with some ideas taken from Legends where it doesn’t conflict.

He just needed to find it.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒:

He is one of the former Rebellion members to join The Resistance and is alive as of The Last Jedi.

Rise of Skywalker canon to come.

#𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 / star wars prequel au.#𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 / star wars au.#𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 / alternate universes.

0 notes

bountyofbeads · 5 years

Text

How White-Supremacist Violence Echoes Other Forms of Terrorism

Their enemies are different, but their tactics are often the same.

KATHY GILSINAN | Published MAR 15, 2019 | The Atlantic | Posted August 4, 2019 |

Their enemies are different, but their grievances and methods can look strikingly similar. The suspected gunman charged with killing 49 people at two mosques in New Zealand on Friday was a white nationalist, bent on killing Muslims. But in many respects, he’s not so different from the jihadists who have conducted similar mass shootings on behalf of violent Islamist groups.

Terrorists across ideologies and decades have craved attention and tended to see themselves and their identity groups as persecuted and needing protection. The 21st-century twist is the use of newer communications technology to mobilize followers, spread propaganda, and incite attacks. And from the perspective of the societies attacked by terrorists, the recurring and awful problem is that it’s impossible ever to be completely safe.

Common to terrorist groups regardless of the decade and political context is the theater of violence, what the 19th-century anarchist terrorists thought of as “propaganda by deed.” Violence is part of the point, but only part of it. The left- and right-wing terrorist groups of Europe during the Cold War often aimed their attacks at property, rather than people, and would even sometimes call in warnings ahead of time to avoid killing people. Back in 1975, the scholar Brian Michael Jenkins observed that “terrorists want a lot of people watching, not a lot of people dead.”

Read: How perpetrators of mass violence learn from each other

Militant Islamist fighters and white-supremacist attackers of more recent vintage do often want a lot of people dead, but even then, the aim is never just to kill someone. It is to say something.

The al-Qaeda attacks of September 11 killed nearly 3,000 people, and Osama bin Laden had the explicit aim of drawing the United States into wars overseas to exhaust itself. The killer in the Islamic State beheading video of the journalist James Foley addressed President Barack Obama directly, demanding an end to one of those very wars, in Iraq. The suspected New Zealand killer, like white-supremacist mass killers before him, invoked the far-right trope of an “invasion” of immigrants overwhelming the white race, declaring online his intent to take revenge and “agitate the political enemies of my people into action” so that they experience a backlash.

“A belief in the power of the mass killing [is] now really taking hold for all types of terrorists,” Alexander Meleagrou-Hitchens, the research director of the Program on Extremism at George Washington University, wrote in an email. “The number of people killed [is] now becoming as important as the symbolic nature of the target.” He noted that the suspected New Zealand killer’s manifesto calls media attention merely a “bonus,” with the attack as an “end in itself.” Yet the fact that he posted a manifesto at all testifies to the political statement the attacker is making.

The sense of threat to whatever identity group the attacker claims as his or her own is another common theme. For jihadists of al-Qaeda, ISIS, and similar groups, it is the conspiracy theory that the West is waging a deliberate campaign to exterminate Muslims, a notion popularized by the theorist and intellectual father of al-Qaeda, Abdullah Azzam, in his book The Defense of Muslim Territories. For white supremacists like the suspected New Zealand shooter—and white-supremacist shooters before him in Charleston, South Carolina, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—the conspiracy theory is the exact mirror image: so-called white genocide, a purported campaign to eliminate the white race through immigration.

A third and a newer phenomenon is the use, and weaponization, of social media. The killer in New Zealand reportedly live-streamed the attack online. He posted a 74-page manifesto and ranted on a message board. He follows in the footsteps of the white supremacists Anders Breivik, who killed more than 70 people in Norway in 2011, and Dylann Roof, who gunned down nine worshippers in a Charleston church in 2015. Both of those shooters also posted internet manifestos expounding on similar themes—indeed, the suspected New Zealand shooter cites Breivik directly as inspiration.

“He and other terrorists of various stripes see themselves as acting to protect their group when few others are willing to do so, partly in the hope that their actions can provide inspiration for others to do the same—just as Breivik inspired him,” Meleagrou-Hitchens wrote.

But terrorist propaganda comes in many forms on the internet. The Islamic State was famed for its “slick” videos glorifying violence; it used social media to recruit followers, and more actively to help incite and even coordinate attacks; and individual attackers like the Orlando, Florida, shooter posted pledges of allegiance to the group online.

Read: The Pittsburgh gunman embraced conspiracy theories. He’s not the first.

The global white-supremacist movement looks more atomized and diffuse than the jihadist movement, even as its adherents communicate with one another and sound similar themes. There is no “core territory” of white supremacy, as Afghanistan and Pakistan were for al-Qaeda in the 1990s and 2000s, or Iraq and Syria have been for ISIS today. This also means there is no military target to attack, the way French bombers pounded the de facto ISIS capital of Raqqa, Syria, following the Paris attacks.

Yet even here, there are similarities. In the United States, for example, most of the plots attributed to ISIS have had no physical connection to the “caliphate” in Iraq and Syria. Indictment data collected by the Program on Extremism show that the majority of those prosecuted for ISIS-related crimes in the U.S. were homegrown, American citizens or permanent residents who never traveled or even tried to travel to the Islamic “state” itself. No bombing of Syria was ever going to touch them directly. What worked to retaliate in those cases was law enforcement, the same way that the New Zealand police have apprehended suspects believed to be involved in the mosque attack.

The common challenge, however, is that there’s often no telling who is a threat until an attack has already taken place. In the United States since 9/11, an enormous amount of law-enforcement resources have been devoted to tracking and disrupting domestic jihadist plots. A recent New York Times investigation found that those resources far outstripped those devoted to tracking white-supremacist violence in the United States, which by some measures has been even more virulent than the jihadist threat when it comes to terrorist attacks on U.S. soil since 9/11. The news media’s focus, too, tends to be on attacks by Muslims—one recent study examining 136 terrorist attacks over a decade found that such attacks got three times more coverage than attacks of any other kind.

Common to all these attackers, in the end, is the lives they destroy and the grieving loved ones their actions leave behind. Their political motivations, their online habits, their conspiracy theories, can’t ever fully explain a violence so fundamentally senseless, and a community loss so fundamentally cruel.

0 notes

ariel-herman · 6 years

Text

Every few years, Israel experiences a war. My father tells me about the weeks leading up to the Six Day War. Sandbags went down in doorways and cars painted their headlights black to not be seen by bombers. Something awoke in the people. The troops would fall into hushed conversations in the preparation for their common fate. That shared fate tightened the fabric of community, creating the one thing that a peaceful life seems to lack. Mutual aid and reliance is a strangely lost phenomena in the modern world. Historically, there were many instances of whites joining natives to fight colonial forces, and far less examples of the opposite… One wonders if those closer bonds are what we crave most, and what modern living (while affording us so much more) ultimately denies us. Economists define wealth as anything that contributes to overall well-being, such as money, social capital, and assets. In this way, Israel during wartime, and Standing Rock in defiance of the Dakota Access Pipeline, were ironically wealthy.

I remember wondering if Last Child Hill was worth it. I saw us all huddled around the fires as the police came to tear us apart. The police had the menacing voice of the LRAD sound cannon atop the paramilitary police vehicle pointed at us. It could destroy hearing while non-lethally dispersing a crowd. The pre-recorded warning addressed itself to us, referring to us as “subjects”. In an era sensitive to proper pronoun usage, I wondered if I should take offense. Were we not “consumers?” In a way, it was a step up, and yet the word ‘subjects’ pushed us beneath a power that was neither king nor leader, but rather raw physical violence. I remember feeling a common fate, as Israel feels, as Palestine feels – as all subjects, too, may learn to feel.

Ideological interdependence was something I found at Standing Rock. We acted for one another – for survival. The occasion was both mystical and literal. We fought because global warming was literally going to kill us all. The oil was going to go under the river, and it would trigger a weather event the likes of which would never be seen in any ice core by any scientist, because neither would exist anymore. This was felt in our hearts. It was the breaking point – our karma for not stewarding the planet.

At Standing Rock, we fought for the rights of people we did not know. We fought because we abhorred oppression; it had happened to us and we knew how it felt. We fought for one another, which is perhaps the most difficult human need to satisfy in our modern world. Here, an elder needs help. The cook needs more hands. The gate guards need firewood. There’s someone getting out of jail in Bismarck and they need a lift home. I need help setting up my tent. Here, I have some tobacco for you…

This is an account of my experience, and a tale of warning. I will not be another white person telling an Indian what they need. I confess, I came to their reservation to help. I did not realize my need to feel seen that way was a form of violence. I was also unaware of how racist I was, until I met an evil man who happened to be native, and I refused to write about it, because it was politically incorrect to do so — and because he was once my friend.

It was a dark five months from November 2016 to March 2017. The camps rose and fell, took on water, and eventually sank from external infiltration exploiting internal weaknesses. Here is how it ended for me.

B l a c k s n a k e

In late November, a man I will call Blackjack, who invited me to contribute my writing to the Oceti Sakowin Camp Media webpage. It was operated from the community kitchen of a gymnasium in Cannonball, North Dakota, just outside of the main camps on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. The team felt supported, even loved by him. Part of my agreement to work with this organization was that they seemed in service to the people. Blackjack said he was Hunkpapa Lakota, and seemed to be an honorable man.

All donations that came to Oceti Sakowin (the largest of the three camps) came through the P.O. Box in Cannonball and Oceti Sakowin Camp Media (OSCM). OSCM was a bit of a misnomer. In addition to making media, they were also responsible for logistics: getting supplies into camp, answering emails, administering media passes to outside journalists, handling PayPal donations, and coordinating between anyone who needed anything in camp. Thousands of emails were answered and hundreds of thousands of dollars (perhaps breaking seven figures) was donated to the Oceti Sakowin. We received boxes of supplies with notes of encouragement from strangers. We could feel the love in the camping supplies that showed up.

Blackjack was soft-spoken, charming yet enigmatic. He felt wise and knowledgeable. One friend later recounted how he had arrived in camp. He sat down in the IEN (Indigenous Environmental Network) tent and just smiled, saying nothing for hours, and listened to people talking. To us, he presented himself as some poor fool who had returned home to make a documentary, and instead volunteered to become the media editor and logistics coordinator of the Oceti Sakowin. We would chain smoke in the subzero temperatures and exchange gallows humor. We worked constantly to bring the story of Standing Rock to the world.

Blackjack seemed to carry a great weight on his hunched shoulders. He told us that his wife, a former model, had died of cancer. His suffering seemed endless, but gracefully held. He was a delight, and it breaks my heart to know we were the fools, and he the wiser.

We descended into winter. Prior to the New Year, Blackjack seemed to not hold any confidence in Standing Rock’s ability to succeed. He confided to me this was destined for failure. I didn’t know what to make of his pessimism. He referred to the longer struggle for indigenous rights, and shunned the camps as folly. I hoped his dark perspective was just due to being overworked.

In December of 2016, I and others were called to a private meeting on the Cannonball bleachers.

“I’ve asked you all here because you are trustworthy,” Blackjack murmured to us. “Our PayPal account has a significant sum of money in it. If the Federal Government deems us terrorists, that account might be frozen… We need to distribute the money into other accounts to protect it. This is a significantly larger risk than you are already taking – there will be zero judgement from me if you decline.”

If I took the money and returned it, and Standing Rock had been officially classified as a terrorist entity, my return of the money would be aiding and abetting an enemy of the United States. I knew the kind of prisons that were reserved for terrorists – 23 hours a day alone – for decades. (See “Communication Management Units” for more information)

I stayed after the meeting had been disbanded.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t sign up for this level of exposure. I want to help…”

“It’s perfectly fine,” he reassured me. “Some of us need to stay out of jail – to tell the story. Me? I have nothing left…”

I often felt his words were chosen to conceal rather than reveal, and I found out why.

We all worked with the confidence that the funds would go to the camps, and to the cause of indigenous well-being. When I began seeking out the financial records of groups operating at Standing Rock, Blackjack encouraged me. I was told that OSCM finances would be an open book for the movement for the world to scrutinize as they saw fit. That never came to pass.

Most water protectors on the ground were poorer folk. They’d come from poverty, and they were returning to poverty. Various organizations and individuals raised millions of dollars in small and large accounts to support the movement. On caravans to actions, specific leaders were arrested on sight, to cut off the head of the movement. Those leaders stayed in jail. As more money came in, and less leadership was left to keep the movement alive, a poisonous condition set in. The movement began to rot out from the inside. The mind of scarcity that we all possess saw cash on the table, wind in our sails, and a shot out rudder.

Blackjack told us that some funds came in earmarked for media, and since he was running the PayPal account, we accepted his word. Somewhere along the way, he brought up the idea to create a permanent media team with those funds. We all loved the idea. The battle could continue – and paid! We were a multicultural fist of media fury, and we liked telling the truth as we saw it. We were native, African-American, Scottish, French, Irish, Jewish, Anglo, even LGBTQ and mixed breeds. We were an A-team based on values – not race or tribe. We deferred to Blackjack because he was Hunkpapa Lakota in Lakota territory, and because we trusted him. So, several hundreds of thousands of dollars from donations to Oceti Sakowin went towards the purchase of camera equipment and audio gear for the team and a brand new full-size truck for Blackjack. We inherited a new snowmobile (or snow machine, for you northerners), and a large trailer we called the Pumpkin. On a drive to town, Blackjack told me we could purchase the same inventory of gear twice over with the remaining funds. The only figure he told me was, after gear purchases, some $600,000.

I rode the snowmobile to camp one afternoon from Cannonball. I was to deliver it to one of the lead coordinators in camp. I rode along the icy roads, down into Sacred Stone Camp, down to my half buried tent. After grabbing some cloths, I got onto the machine but it wouldn’t start. Dusk was settling and the air was frigid. I tugged for 10 minutes on the ripcord. In frustration, I yanked the cord and tore a tendon in my shoulder. The pain was sharp but short. My shoulder hurts to this day.

The easement had been denied by the Obama Administration, but Trump was set to enter office January 14th. The veterans had come to stand with us in early December, and then left as winter bit into the backside of camp. The town of Cannonball eventually got annoyed with us squatting in their gym and asked us to leave. We loaded everything into the Pumpkin and moved to the Prairie Knights Casino (PKC) to continue a weakening campaign. We would spend the next two months hiding from the black winds of the prairie, only visiting camp to create media. While comfortable, the team never stopped working to cover the story of camp. Sometime in the winter, a man would fall through the ice in the Cannonball River. His body lay preserved in the river as people above tried to keep warm. He was found in the spring thaw after camp was evacuated.

7 F i r e s

The winter became deadly cold. No one in camp knew the odds of winning either the spiritual struggle or the political one. At PKC, the payout odds were listed on the wall. One place was filled with soul, the other money. I was honestly happier in camp. At PKC, we ate prime rib and drank bottomless free coffee surrounded by blinking slot machines in a hotel filled with Bureau of Indian Affairs cops. We were, after all, elite.

I remember Blackjack inviting me into his room one evening. He presented me with an ounce of silver, and showed me a note – give these to 5 of your bravest warriors. It was in the mold of a buffalo nickel, with an Indian head. I had gifted him my prized leather jacket months back in the spirit of friendship. I had a lot of love for him, and I greatly appreciated his approval. In retrospect, it feels more like a form of emotional blackmail than appreciation. Back then, I did not know that money was rotting us from the inside.

Members of OSCM sat down to envision a mobile media team. It would be called 7Fires. Blackjack insisted that we put the old Oceti Sakowin Facebook page to sleep. I and the remaining members wrote the mission statement for 7Fires. During that conversation, Blackjack insisted that it be an indigenous-focused media team, against the wishes of a strong majority (whom preferred it was social and environmental justice focused). Blackjack got it his way. We had been donated a large trailer with bunks to base ourselves from. I imagined us on the border with Tohono O’odham Nation documenting the fight with the Trump Administration to build a border wall through their reservation, or in Havasu stopping uranium mining from poisoning the Grand Canyon, or covering the resistance to Nestle in the Pacific Northwest. But there was one fight in Hawaii that arrested my conviction.

I was raised on a diet of Legos, reptiles and astronomy. The indigenous struggle against the proposed telescope on Mauna Kea split my loyalty. On the one hand, indigenous people were systematically oppressed; on the other, the quest for knowledge and the expansion of the human frontier – the frontier of life itself into space – was paramount to human survival in the long term. On Hawaii, the natives were fighting a pipeline filled with knowledge because it sat on historically sacred land. “Sacred” began to sound a little bit more like the alibi the Israeli’s used to justify forceful expulsion of Arabs from Palestine. The words ‘sacred’ and ‘science’ faced off as two monoliths who fought over the real estate of the human soul, and we used those ideas to justify why some land was forsaken to bear the burden of crude oil pipelines in a time unable to live without it, or a mountain top was too sacred to tolerate the largest ground-based optical telescope ever created. One had to compromise, and to me, humanity needed better telescopes more than it needed to satisfy the impression of sacredness to a minority of people. It behooves me to take a trip to Mauna Kea to understand the situation better, but that is for another time.

We used the new gear to effectively cover the movement and keep police accountable. It was unclear if we were the owners of our material, or if 7Fires owned it. We quickly learned that Blackjack did not like any of the gear out of place. He became furious and publically eviscerated people for the misplacing small items, like batteries and lens caps. His increasingly mercurial attitude was attributed to chronic stress.

Everyone came to Blackjack for money, but he seemed to not want to “set precedents” and make people in camp entitled to that money. He was fond of one precedent – carrying a large wad of money with him wherever he went. Some disagreed with him, but he was paying our way by this point, and our meetings began to feel less like the search for truth, and more like the search for Blackjack’s wishes. He paid for our hotel, gave us some food vouchers, bought us cigarettes, and nurtured our hopes of a bright future with 7Fires, fighting to save the environment and defend the indigent and indigenous against colonialists.

With assets of approximately $300k and flush with hard cash, 7Fires has done next to nothing to support indigenous rights, water rights, or sovereignty rights. Their last Facebook post was nine months ago in November of 2017. Even now as Line 3 is opposed, 7Fires is M.I.A.

Blackjack flew me home on donated funds in winter to visit my family. While I was there, I asked him for another $1000 to help finance a pickup truck to help evacuate people from Oceti Sakowin. Blackjack was generous, and I’m not convinced harbored larcenous-intent. That money was just sitting there, and many were looking for a noble-sounding reason to use it. People constantly approached Blackjack with their needs. Sophia Wilanski and Sioux Z were both badly injured on November 20th in a faceoff with paramilitary police and private security forces. While Sophia was able to raise a half million for her mutilated arm, Sioux Z had no such luck after taking a teargas canister to the eye, detaching her retina. Sioux Z asked Blackjack for medical expenses, he suggested she take it up with the tribal government.

In a meeting at PKC, Blackjack and one person who was a paid staffer explained how the organization was going to function. In the past, we’d been a democracy. The new organization would be Blackjack as pope and us below. The meeting also focused on what to do with the surplus money. A friend of mine suggested we use the remaining money to encourage STEM subjects in high school, a suggestion I heartily endorsed, because it was a smart way to advocate for the ecological health of Indian country. Unfortunately, when the time came to make that suggestion, I was told it had been allocated to “various groups”. When I pressed the issue, Blackjack bellowed at me not to interrupt him. What had started as a democracy had become a circus. I never saw what happened to the money.

This next detail I must stress is harder for me to verify, so I will present it as simply my impression and not more. During an elevator ride, Blackjack confided with me and another OSCM member that he had indulged in his late-wife’s pain killer supply, spending a month in “pure bliss”. Myself and the other man both recounted how we had friends and family suffer with opioids, and did not share his enthusiasm. He dropped the subject and we exited the elevator. It was a very scary subject for me. Two of my dear friends growing up had lost themselves in opioids. One lost his mind and is homeless, the other fights his addiction to this day. A member of my family had a shoulder injury, and relied on percoets for years after their purpose was served. I sometimes worry about that when I try and do regular things, always having to protect my shoulder from certain movements.

Another evening, I came to Blackjack’s room very late to discuss something. His mood was elevated, which felt normal to what I’d seen – strong ups and downs. But there was something different. The man I was seeing here was not the Blackjack I recognized… In fact, he reminded me of my addicted family member, or stoned friends, when they had taken just a little too much and were hiding it badly. The vibe was, for me, unmistakable – but I fully admit, I could have been misreading the situation. For all I know, he was simply in a great mood close to midnight, glassy-eyed and grinning wide.

Perhaps the strain of the movement had tested his mettle too harshly, and he had cracked. I did not know. Still, I could feel that weird rat-paws-in-the-cream vibe on him that opioid addicts give off. I will stress that I have no proof, nor did I see any drugs taken at any time. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I had been targeted by infiltrators attempting to sew distrust in the ranks and plant negative stories at my feet. I knew I didn’t know everything. What I did not understand was unimportant, because it was all about to end for my time with 7Fires.

I arrived in Denver after Blackjack and two team members had rented a vacation rental. I went to get a drink with one of them, and then came back to the house. Gear was spread everywhere. I had hoped to see the nascence of 7Fires, with faces I recognized, but it was all in darkness. Blackjack lay in bed zonked out, barely awake. He had been admitted to the hospital days earlier by the two team members. He had become so ill that they were afraid for his life. When he got out, he implied that they should cover his $30k medical bills, as they had admitted him against his will. Furthermore, he had asked them to sign a one-year lease on a house without offering the money to them for it. This was also after he had insisted the same individual whose name would be on the lease had purchased a truck on a payment plan, rather than paid outright like his truck. When confronted about these things, along with the lack of financial transparency, he chose to decline his guarantee of open finances – because that was a “colonial” idea.

The next morning I awoke in the house with Blackjack. He tried to convince me my colleagues were irrational, or unfortunately mistaken. When I called them, they told me they were 2 states away. Over the next half year, most of the original members left the team – and the one man in control of the assets that had been donated to the water protectors to fight DAPL. His decision was obviously larcenous, but it did not occur to me because he was our friend, he was indigenous, and tribal members could not possibly rob their own people! I had never indulged the idea, because I’d come to native country full of victim identity dogma, idealism, and spiritual bullshit.

7Fires would make no official account of their finances. It never became a nonprofit. Blackjack told me he donated much of the money (the organizations and persons having asked him to never reveal their identities). He had also lost several boxes of receipts in the move.

T h e B r e a k u p

Native Americans are more suited to write about themselves topically. They are a victimized group that I do not want to disrespect by opining on their dilemmas. I met many brave, honest, and decent people of all colors at Standing Rock. I came to work alongside them. My naiveté enabled this man to siphon away perhaps a million dollars or more that could have helped any number of causes in native country. Out of a need to feel like a hero, my writing had supported a completely corrupt organization. All of that money was donated in the spirit of reconciliation and support for indigenous rights and environmental protection. It is all gone for all I know.

Blackjack and I spoke one last time before I left. I’d taken four deep cycle marine batteries from Sacred Stone Camp just hours before the BIA raided and trashed the camp. I offered to sell them to 7Fires for the Pumpkin. I told myself it was justified, since the batteries would have been seized by the BIA, 7Fires wasn’t short of money, and I was broke. We met in Denver and made the sale. I asked him if he felt I was missing anything in my comprehension of indigenous ways. He signed with a murmur and a hiss, “You, are not Lakota, so, you cannot understand, our ways.” He smiled again, and shuffled away like a hazed Richard III.

A few team members gave him the benefit of the doubt, because they wanted to keep on fighting the colonialists, or just found his behavior the lesser evil. I confronted him in an email and eventually we spoke on the phone. The cornerstone of his argument was simple – this, is a Lakota matter... People’s misperception of him were their problem. The OSCM team, which was grandly disappointed by Blackjack, had no vote. Our common opposition to the seemingly racist attitude of the pipeline developers did not matter to him. None of our sweat equity mattered to him. He was accountable only to the Lakota Nation. I found his ethnocentric attitude ironic. I pressed him about the “various groups” where the money had been donated. He told me they didn’t need to make an account of it, which I further clarified to mean that some of these organizations and individuals were not legal non-profits. I desperately wanted to be wrong. Blackjack hid behind tribalism, and did not help his tribe that I saw. His rationalizations and virtue theater were stunning. He felt like a dragon laying on a pile of bullion.

At the end of the call, Blackjack offered me a job on launch day for 7Fires. My writing was “decent” he mused (a bit too wordy – can you imagine!). I told him, if he was offering me a bribe, he should have offered the $30k yurt in the storage locker in Bismarck. He laughed… Putting aside the humor, I told him I couldn’t work for an organization that did not share my values of transparency and accountability. We have not spoken since.

He Put Silver in My Hand and Said, “Now, Get Off My Land”

Blacksnake was part of the mysticism of Standing Rock. It was said that if Blacksnake went under the river, all would be lost. Many people saw the oil pipeline as the blacksnake going under the Missouri River. I differ in that opinion.

One charismatic man from Standing Rock was recently interviewed and described the blacksnake as, “greed and violence and oppression; we have to come together to fight more than just one pipeline to defeat the black snake.” For me, greed is the operative word in this definition.

As a person whose writing had been part of what gave Blackjack legitimacy at OSCM, and as someone who helped to draft the mission statement for 7Fires, I feel responsible to fight blacksnake. Here, it manifests as a deep, selfish greed – and many generations of untold pain.

There are principles and values at stake in this situation. Loyalty and trust are among the most prized assets, especially when the police are shooting at you and calling you a terrorist. Blackjack alienated the trust of most who worked with him. He acted as the thing he claimed to be fighting – an abuser of power. Whether that was his plan or not is difficult to say. It feels like blacksnake ate someone I considered a dear friend, or that “friend” conned me and my colleagues.

He wistfully mused at the end of our call that perhaps he would abandon the project in a year if it failed, or simply move on once it was viable.

He gets bored easily, he tells me.

I realized he can only gain from 7Fires’ failure, just as he gained from the failure of Standing Rock. Suffice it to say, I took his word, and decided it was time to let Lakota deal with Lakota.

Everyone I met at Standing Rock who was true to the cause was nonviolent – they cared so deeply for this cause that they came to North Dakota to allowed themselves to get shot by police who cared for nothing except paying their mortgage and did not want to be there. I would guess that most of the violent ideas came from infiltrators trying to cast the movement as militant. The good-hearted are not always the greatest thinkers. I liked Blackjack because he was a thinker. He was the lonely kind of smart and the corrupt side of good. He confided in me that he receives small annual checks from the treasury department for having oil derricks on land he inherited. Mni Wiconi, indeed.

The success of movements like Occupy Wall Street are in their ability to popularize a simple idea, like the 99% who seem to hold far less power over their own fate than the 1%. The single greatest success of the NODAPL movement was the inception of the meme “Water is Life”. Now, we all peer skeptically at mineral extraction if it threatens access to clean water. After water, sovereignty became the greater focus. In some ways, the former became a Trojan horse for the latter.

I am critical of US state policy. I consider it a highly patriotic act to dissent when it is from moral outrage or in defense of the Constitution – which is actually a requirement for US citizenship. There are still many good people doing great work for indigenous rights. Indigenous people are a vulnerable group, and they’re rightly tired of it. We were surrounded by violent and moneyed interests, and we forgot to check the moral character of our own ranks, especially those in the upper tiers. Push for policy reform and education – not regime change. The former is possible, the latter is clearly a mouse trap.

Losing my objectivity was deeply embarrassing. There was so much more to the NODAPL movement than Blackjack. I see him as the black dot in the white half of a yin yang. While some of what remained of the Standing Rock movement escaped the subversions of the federal government and private security, I find myself less invested in the movement today. It has begun to look like a kind of jihad: or, a political movement with a spiritual mandate summarized in the slogan, ‘Defend the Sacred.’ Their political goals were decolonization of the United States, which is dumb. Unfortunately, if you can’t advocate for your policy position without an American flag on your lapel, you’ve given the government all the excuse it needs to shut you down, and when you turn around, Blackjack won’t have your back.

Confessions of a Standing Rock Do-Gooder Every few years, Israel experiences a war. My father tells me about the weeks leading up to the Six Day War.

0 notes