He said, I locked you in this body, I meant it as a kind of trial
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Three Goblin Art
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I'd rather be in outer space šø
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if i look back, i am lost

shark vs the universe

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we're not kids anymore.
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trying on a metaphor
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@hecatastroph
He said, I locked you in this body, I meant it as a kind of trial
i call this phenomenon "god hates me"
How it feels to settle into bed and close my eyes and return to the totally made-up scenario I was last engrossed in
this is my favourite post ever
Little star
My Arthur is loaded
and they are the bestest of friends
Let Slip The Dogs of War
S2 SAS: Rogue Heroes got me thinking of a little something about delusion and anger in warfare. Since Paddy seems appropriate to dive in these emotions, here we are!
General topics: war, anger, disillusionment, death and hierarchy Summary: After Bagnara and his altercation with Bill Stirling, Paddy Mayne reflects on trust and ways of doing, torn between his demeanour and his thoughts on leadership. Words count: less than 1k
Let Slip The Dogs of War
'Italy is not the Great Sand Sea, Paddy. There are civilians here - men, women and children - and I do not trust you and your "members only" to display your particular skills among innocent people.' 'You donāt trust me with innocent people?'
What was trust, but a curious concept in times of war? For it had become an utterly odd thing to rely on, and a confusing field to explore. Was it even necessary, was it simply futile? Ask a man perhaps, pray that he's sober enough not to philosophise, would the answer come right, as easy as a pie? But among all things of dualistic matter, trust remained of the cardinals ones; and Paddy Mayne really loved his rum, hence he started to unravel.
Thus, trust had to be earned. Not in glory or excellence, but through consistency, and through the loyalty of oneself rather than obedience to someone else. Trust was, in fact, neither necessary nor futile, it was either there or it wasn't. One simply had to be enough, without pretending to be something else. Was he truly insufficient then, for them to mould him into something but expect the opposite?
Disappointment came first, in a resurgence of something beneath, not about wanting to do, or to be, as expected, but in a sense of absolute certainty: the job had to be done. And he had done so with all he had, and perhaps more, for he had begun to draw on his men's last ressources ā Regās eyes could tell, if words werenāt enough to see.
What did Bill Stirling know about trust beyond mundane natters? How could he distinguish the trustworthy from the unreliable, if he was unable to spot the snakes in his own basket? And so, scorn ensued, for disappointment was nothing but the spark of his wrath, and anger had always barked louder. How fortunate ā because Paddy was sometimes a man of common sense ā that the pushy bastard left their camp once orders had been given, only to take shelter behind the shields of men he did not trust.
'All well Paddy?'
Jim's voice pierced a hole in the muddy turmoil that was his mind, cutting through the growls and turning them into whispers. Paddy smiled, almost sniggered, upper lip unveiling a canine, then shook his head as he reached for his bottle, from which he drank the last drop.
'Y'heard the commanding officer? We're heading to Termoli.'
'I've heard yes. Iāve heard everything actually.' A break, of which contained eternity in a few seconds. 'You provoked him, Paddy.'
'Oh he doesn't need my permission to disrespect me, them toffs never bothered to ask, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a feckin' muppet. Y'see, them, they pet with one hand, beat with the other. They expect me to stood down, and not bite back but lap the blood on their fingers, so they don't use their fancy napkins. Yet my tongueās already licking my wounds, and all I have left are teeth.'
It was as it had always been, and will continue to be: he'll try to change because he had to, turning the boy into a man, the man into a hound, the hound into a ghost, on and on and onā¦
'Wonāt prove him right then, would we, Paddy?'
ā¦till he finds contentment after all, knowing he was wrong, but hoping it won't last. For what was trust, but the comfort of letting yourself be, in your joyful hour and your darkest one, and the assurance of being remembered as you were truly and never lied to be? What was trust but the desert sand, and what lay underneath, what made him someone once, what made him truly seen?
'I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still:
When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.
And my slow heart said, "You must kill, you must kill":
"Soldier, soldier, morning is red.*"'
Success, they brought, for they obeyed without question, for they listened orders while hearing screams. And he persisted, in something he wasn't built for, like a barber turned into a baker, and he persisted, to be alive still, like a corpse turned into a living. And after Sicily, there were no doubts heād do it again, all the way to France, then in Berlin, and unto oblivion, may it come in nothingness or pardon.
'Nay, we won't. Then, as prig roosters we shall move too, and sing the cockcrow of our own mornings.'
Nobody will question the sanity of a man already claiming he is lost, for mad he seemed, and astray they were all. Though if cruelty was akin to his war, he thought how human he had remained, to still feel dismay behind fury when thinking of judges who act as juries. Who call for innocent's safety then release beasts like cannon fodder. Like gravel to be thrown.
'Unleash the dogs' theyāve ordered, while they sent a pack of wolves.
ā
* Siegfried Sassoon, āI Stood With The Deadā, The War Poems of Siegfried Sassoon, 1919.
modern AU pourquoi pas
Being a little too cold: brrrr iām a little too cold !!!
Being a little too warm: i am going to kill the next person who makes eye contact with me.
āIāve returned to my maiden surname. Albertās dead. Thereās no reason for me to keep carrying his name like a bucket of water. Heās got a brother in Missouri for that.ā
the Endless siblings came here to slay š„
The last time I seen my brother. The last time I seen the sun. Just for a few hours, we was free.
remmick and the vampires present a false dichotomy
Hogwood (the man who sold the twins the mill) and the KKK are very obviously bad, they are outright malicious bigotry, they use the n-word and plan to lynch the moore's and their community, they are so blatantly racist and hateful it's unavoidably obvious
remmick and the vampires however say that they believe in equality, say that they want to create a community, and yet remmick's goal throught the movie is to both metaphorically and literally steal sammie's ability for his own goal of reconnecting with his irish ancestors, a white man wants to harm a young and upcoming black man and use talents for his own goals without giving any regard to said black man's autonomy or agency
when sammie sings 'I lied to you' in the juke joint and calls forth the spirits from the past and future, it's a blend of cultures; west african, east asian, native american, and african american song and dance blend together across time and space to tell the stories of blues; where it takes its inspiration from, the music genres it then inspired, the complex history of black american culture and its intersections with other peoples of colour in the USA
when remmick and the vampires kill and turn the people in the juke joint, and then perform rocky road to dublin, only remmick's irish culture is on display, there is no influence from the black and asian people he has forcibly assimilated into his song, it's juxtaposition with the earlier scene is blatant, remmick is more than happy to assimilate people of colour into his 'community' of 'equals', and yet its only whiteness that is celebrated, that is normative
remmick claims that he's doing people a favour by turning them immortal, conviently ignoring that he literally has to suck the life out of them to do so, trapping their spirits on earth, he claims that he's the good guy, that the KKK were gonna come and lynch everyone at the joint in the morning anyways, conviently ignoring that he's doing the exact same thing; a white man leading a mob to kill a bunch of black people
in the final confrontation with sammie remmick repeatedly dunks him into the river, a forceful baptism. both the celtic irish and enslaved west africans had their religions suppressed and destroyed by colonialsm, had christianity forced upon them by the british empire, and in that scene we see remmick repeating that cycle, using christianity to inflict harm, and sammie reclaiming christianity, despite all the complex emotions he has arround it, as many colonised peoples have and still do, when he recites the lord's prayer
remmick and the vampires are no less racist than hogwood and the KKK, are no less predatory or evil, they're just less blantant about their bigotry, they represent the system, the normalised white supremacy that is seeped into the very foundation of culture in america, the point isnt that remmick would call any of the black characters in the movie the n-word, i dont think he would, the point is that his exploitation and desacration and inserting-himself-into-when-he-wasn't-invited of the juke joint is a microcosm of what white people have done to black american arts and culture since ever since there have been black and white people in america, and even before that
theres a reason vultures are shown early on in this movie