This moment is so important. And I’m so proud of Harry Shum Jr. for being able to deliver such a powerful performance, as powerful as the moment is.
Because this is Magnus admitting that there’s darkness inside him. And we could discuss a lot about if he was actually controlling his powers, because he certainly consciously directed his magic against his stepfather, but he was just a little boy, still in shock for his mother’s suicide and being harshly blamed for it… But anyway the anger was there, the fury was there, and Magnus remembers.
Because Magnus was just a 9 year old boy then, and this moment, when he burned his stepfather, was probably Magnus’ first encounter with his darkest side. Magnus’ magic is linked with his emotions, and with all the distress he was exposed to, I really find just natural that he has losen all kind of measurance. But, to Magnus, this was his first encounter with the “demonic” part of him, that part that wants to destroy and doesn’t care about the results (and here I wonder if this was really Magnus’ “demonic” part, of actually the “human” one? Wouldn’t we lose all control in the situation that Magnus was? Wouldn’t we do the same or worse destruction, being capable of what Magnus was?)
This was also probably the beginning of Magnus thinking, on the deepest of his heart, that he’s actually a monster, an abomination.
And then again this moment is so important, because Magnus is admitting his darkest side to Alec, the man he loves. Magnus could have agreed with Alec: he was a boy, he didn’t want to cause his stepfather any harm, he didn’t know what he was doing. But actually Magnus knew he had magic, maybe not the extent of it but he knew he had, and he knew that he wanted to hurt and harm, and maybe he was distressed and hurt himself and he was just a little shocked child, but the intention of harming someone else was still there…
And Magnus knows, and Magnus need Alec to know to, because he’s scared and he doesn’t want to lose Alec (just look at his expression right after admitting that he was controlling his powers; look how vulnerable he looks, how he looks at Alec slowly as if he was waiting to be rejected), but he doesn’t want Alec to believe he’s completely innocent of everything. Magnus doesn’t want to deceive Alec in any way, that’s why he’s letting Alec to know what really happened.
And I can’t help but wonder if someday Magnus will realize that this scene, this moment of him admitting to Alec that his stepfather was “right”, is exactly what proves him wrong.
Because, what kind of “monster”, when having the opportunity to hide the darkness in him and keep the person he loves, decides to show that darkness in all its extent, so this person would know what he’s signing for? What kind of “abomination” would risk losing the love of his life, because he can’t help to be honest with him, even when that truth terribly hurts him?
Just, what kind of “monster” or “abomination” could love… In the beautiful, selfless, heartbreakingly honest way that Magnus Bane does?
Feel free to send in requests guys! We do Reactions, Preferences, Fake Texts, and Scenarios! Just tell us who you want, what you want, and how you want it! <3(MalexFemale, MalexMale, FemalexFemale)
*Don’t own the gifs yo*
JB: He’d usually be a heavy sleeper but as soon as ya tongue hit him he’d be WIDe awake, throwing the sheets off so he can watch you. Deep rumbly groans and hair pulling. That is all.
JR: This angel would be sleeping so peacefully, you almost wouldn’t wanna wake him. When you decided to wake him up the nice way, you’d start to notice him tossing and turning a bit more. After his hard on popped out of your mouth and hit you in the eye one too many times, you whacked him on the stomach, makin his dumb ass sit straight up, almost flinging you off the bed. After taking a minute to clear things up, he’d v shyly ask you to continue
YOUNGJAE: Let me tell ya, noise. NOISE. He’d be makin a shit ton of noise before he even woke up so when his brain finally registered what was happening, his eyes would flutter open with an extra loud moan and he’d tangle his hand in your hair
JACKSON: You wouldn’t realize that Jackson was actually already kinda awake so when you ducked under the cover and started grabbing at his boxers, you wouldn’t have caught the mad ass grin that spread across his face as he felt your hands wrap around him. He’d *inconspicuously* move to position himself better for you (’wow thats weird, he usually doesn’t move in his sleep much’). He’d want to surprise you a bit, so when he felt your hand grasp his hip, this bitch clamped down hard on your wrist, making you jump away from his lap with a yelp. Being the shit he is, he would just grin down at you ‘relax baby’
MARK: He would’ve been murmuring in his sleep (waking you up) when you decided to wake him up in your own little way. The murmuring would start to get louder and breathy moans would be echoing through the room. You’d get a little impatient after a while and *accidentally* tug him a little harder than usually, jolting him awake with a choked groan
BAMBAM: He’d wake up with the biggest smile on his face when he felt you blowing him. He wouldn’t stop you, just enjoying the view, his stomach doing flips when you looked up and made eye contact, him making noises he didn’t know he could make
YUGYEOM: This little boy would’ve been working so hard lately, you just wanted him to know how proud you were. You tugging down his boxers would’ve woken him and he’d let out something between a happy sigh and a laugh as he reached down to play with your hair ‘baby, you’re too amazing’
When a sullen looking Hank McCoy walked up the cobblestone path of what had been yours and husband Alex’s home, only to tell you he had died you don’t really remember what had happened next.
You can sort of recall Hank’s lanky twig like arms going around you, keeping you from falling to your knees, and you can semi remeber your hands clap over your mouth, muffling the loud heartbroken wails that were coming from you. And you can be faintly certain of the fact Hank had then carried you inside your home, to the dark twade couch Alex had once loved.
“You’re lying!” You said into Hank’s shoulder, his pale fingers running up and down your back as he tried to sooth you.Your own hands hand left your face and were now on his light blue button up, balled up into fists
“I’m sorry,” Hank choked out. Alex had teased him when they first meet, Alex had still teased him despite nearly twenty years of knowing one another, but they were friends and now like so many of his friends Alex was gone.
“I am so, so sorry,” he whispered into your hair, rocking the both of you back and forth.
“Mommy?” A small tired voice sounded from the top of the stairs, both you and Hank froze. Well Hank did, you had just bursted into another fit of loud.
A tiny girl, no older than four years old, with a sharp jawline and pigtails, and a ragged plush bunny toy dragging behind her, clambering down the stairs with a concerned look on her face.
“Uncle Hank?” She cocked her head to the side, not understanding why her uncle Hank had tears in his eyes or her mommy was red faced and gasping for breath.
“Hey Rosie.” Hank didn’t mean for his voice to sound so thick voice, it had just happened. Rosie looked so much like you, but at that very moment Hank could only see Alex in her young features.
He could feel your shoulders shaking, but your cries quite as you rub your eyes, trying, and failing to rid yourself of tears.
“Why are you and mommy sad?” Hank felt your grip on his tighten. Your mutation was the ability to talk to and control animals, not super strength, and yet the way you clung to him, like he was the only thing keeping you grounded to the world, almost made him wonder if you had gained another ability.
“W-We should wait until your brothers are home,” Hank said to Rose, making his chest tighten around his hurting heart even more than it already was.
Alex had left behind a wife and four kids, the youngest being Rosie, a four year old who would without a doubt forget what her father was like within a few years, and Chuck, the oldest, being a fifteen year old who’d feel the weight of being the new man of the house.
He than thought about twelve year old AJ, Alexander jr, and how that boy would never get the awkward ‘birds and the bees’ talk from his father when he came of age, or how ten year old Sean would never get to hear his father’s proud cheers from the sidelines when the boy won his first high school football game.
“Okay,” Rosie agreed, lightly before cramming in between you two. Her tiny arms wrapped themselves around you and squeezed tightly. She was such a good girl, a daddy’s girl. Your eyes meet Hanks as your lip quivered and though neither of you possessed telepathic abilities he understood the question: ‘How am I going to tell my kids?’
Artist- Poly! Southern Democratic Republicans x Reader
She continued to sketch, enjoying the
sound of the pencil on paper. She studied the man once more before he
walked by, making sure he was permanently engraved in her memory.
Once she had a basic outline of his features, she stood up, hopped on
her bike, and began to ride, shoving the sketchbook in her bag.
As she passed the man, hand in hand
with another, he put out a hand to stop her. With a confused frown,
and a nervous expression, Y/N braked hard, stepped off, and raised an
eyebrow at the men.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He smirked. “Were you- drawing me?”
Her eyes widened, her fingers began to
play with the hem of her shirt. “Sorry?”
“When I walked by earlier,” he
explained, crossing his arms and leaning against the fence. The man
next to him, who had been holding his hand, looked nervous and a bit
upset. “You were drawing me, right?”
“Thomas,” the other man hissed.
“Drop it, please, she’s nervous.”
“No, it’s okay,” Y/N assured him,
though she was terrified. “Um, yeah, I was drawing you. I just-
just saw you, and I got inspired, so- I’m really sorry, I can tear it
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine.
Can I see it?”
She gave him a look of fear. “What?”
“Can I see the drawing, darling?”
“It’s- it’s just a sketch…”
The man called Thomas grinned. “Well
then, darling, I’ll just have to give you my number so I can come
over and see it when you’re finished.”
Her mouth fell open. “Oh, um- I- I-
Thomas reached for her phone, typed in
his number, and let her do the same to his. Then he took the other
man’s hand again and smiled brightly.
“See you later, sweetheart.”
Y/N took a deep breath, regaining her
composure. “Um- um, okay!”
She got on her bike and rode away,
leaving the smirking man and his companion to continue their walk,
with a blush on her face.
Y/N took a couple of breaths and
swallowed hard before texting the number he had given her.
seconds later, he replied.
Cool. Can I come see it?
grinned despite herself before typing out an answer.
Yeah. Tonight at seven sound good?
Sounds great! Is it okay if I bring
frowned a bit, unsure what he meant.
I have two. Is that okay?
Yep! See you at seven!
See you at seven.
reread the conversation, smiling and blushing a bit at his words,
though she had no idea why. Her heart plummeted a bit at her
realization that he was already in a relationship, but she quickly
pushed her feelings away. For now, she tidied up the house, brushing
off the kitchen table and making her bed. Y/N decided to prepare some
food, figuring it would be polite, and made sure the drawing of
Thomas was within reach.
the doorbell rang, she grinned and ran to the door. She paused for a
second before answering the door.
she said breathily, studying the men before her. Thomas was wearing
his usual smirk, wearing a magenta outfit that made her raise an
eyebrow. Next to him was the man she had seen before with cropped
black hair and dark skin. He was tall and obviously strong. The last
man was the shortest, and although he seemed nervous, he offered Y/N
want to come in?” She let out a nervous laugh, gesturing for them
to come in.
led his boyfriends, holding the taller man’s hand and placing his
free hand on the shorter one’s back.
Aaron Burr,” the shortest man said suddenly, shaking her hand. She
Madison,” the other introduced, doing the same as his boyfriend.
made some food, just in case,” she said nervously, leading them to
went to go grab it, setting it on the table, before reaching for the
drawing and handing it to Thomas. The men gasped, Thomas looking
James exclaimed, taking the painting and studying it. “This is
amazing,” Aaron agreed, giving her a sweet smile that melted her
nodded in agreement. “It looks just like me!”
can keep it,” she offered shyly, and his face lit up.
Thomas grinned. “Thanks! This food looks great, darling.”
blushed. “Thank you, I made it.”
talented,” Aaron commented, making her giggle.
sat down, letting them have the couch, but Thomas quickly pulled her
over to them. They all laughed, and she felt her walls coming down.
Slowly, she came to enjoy their company. She was surprised at her joy
when James suggested they watched a movie. Y/N was overjoyed to have
them stay longer.
she cried, pointing to the painting on the wall with a huge smile.
“There it is!”
wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into him with a proud
beautiful, darling,” he commented. “You did it.”
quickly walked over, kissing the top of her head. Aaron, who wasn’t
one for public affection, squeezed her head affectionately.
so proud of you,” James told her.
nodded. “Your art’s in the gallery!”
only that,” she said softly, kissing all of her boyfriends’ cheeks.
“But I have the best boyfriends in the world.”
the three boys beamed at her, she knew she had made the right
decision in joining their relationship- what girl wouldn’t want to be
surrounded by a group of boys who all loved her?
we have the best girlfriend,” Aaron said sweetly, kissing her
best cook,” James added.
tightened his hold on her. “And the best artist. I’m so proud of
snuggled into his side, happier than ever. Although she happy to have
her art hanging in the museum, she was happier to have her boyfriends
by her side.
could face anything together- she had her boys, and that was enough.
Historical revisionism and the endless stream of tired imitators that followed in his wake sometimes makes it difficult to appreciate what a radical listening experience the music of Jimi Hendrix was and still is. Yet for those with the ears to hear, his influence is everywhere in contemporary rock.
In the Stone Roses and their guitarist John Squire’s polychromatic action-painting style of playing. In My Bloody Valentine, a group which has worked with Roger Mayer, the guy who invented effects boxes and distortion pedals for Hendrix. In Loop’s noise symphonies. In Sonic Youth, whose unusual tunings would not have been possible without Hendrix’s reinvention of the guitar. (Drummer Buddy Miles, who played with Hendrix, recorded an album called Expressway to Your Skull in 1968. Nineteen years later Sonic Youth recorded a song with the same name.)
In the wah-wah heaven of Dinosaur Jr. In the raga free-form folkadelic blitz of Husker Du’s “Recurring Dreams” on Zen Arcade. In the wigged out, apocalyptic, nouveau acid rock of the Butthole Surfers. (Think of their “Jimi” as a fin de siecle version of Hendrix’s “Third Stone From the Sun.”) In the oceanic rock of A.R. Kane. In the black rock of Living Colour and 24-7 Spyz. In the thrashing metal-funk of the Red Hot Chili Peppers (who covered Hendrix’s “Fire” and inherited his febrile hypersexuality and imitated his bad-ass virility). Not to mention obvious examples like Prince and George Clinton.
And then there’s heavy metal as a genre. If Hendrix paved the way for this music, it was because he showed that the blues could be blown up from a porch-side lament into a mountain range. Hendrix invented the “air guitar,” not in the sense of an imaginary instrument played by hair farmers in front of their bedroom mirrors, but rather in the sense of a guitar that refused to be bound solely by earthly roots, a sound that grew wings and took flight. An aerial guitar, if you will.
The Hendrix influence on rap is also profound, and not just in the way that boho homeboys like De la Soul and A Tribe Called Quest dress. Hendrix samples on rap records include Digital Underground’s “Who Knows?” the Beastie Boys’ “B-Boy Bouillabaisse,” A Tribe Called Quest’s “Go Ahead in the Rain,” and Monie Love’s “Just Don’t Give a Damn.” Moreover, every rap use of rock comes via Hendrix, from Run-DMC to Schoolly D. Rap’s dissonance is Hendrix’s guitar still reverberating and feeding back.
As SPIN colleague Nathaniel Wice puts it: “He dominates both Yol MTV Raps and Headbanger’s Ball. He fathered both, dominating everything that music has become. Not only won’t he die, but it’s impossible to imagine how to kill him off.”
There’s even a case to be made that Hendrix is responsible for that hideous mutant jazz-rock. But we’ll pass discreetly over that, except to mention Hendrix’s profound influence on Miles Davis’s brilliant late-‘60s and early-'70s work.
Jim Morrison may be the subject of Hollywood mythmaking, but Hendrix is not a corpse to be resurrected. Hendrix is the living, breathing soul of today’s rock'n'roll.
Initially framed within traditional white ideas of what black music meant (black as incarnation of the id, un-repression, instinct, the body, soul, et cetera), Jimi Hendrix was nicknamed the “Wild Man of Pop” and compared to a Borneo savage. As critic Steven Perry has pointed out, such noble savage stereotypes have been used historically to undermine the aesthetic achievements of blacks. Hendrix is interesting because of the damage he did to such racial stereotypes. He wanted to transcend the borders and barriers between races, male and female, and even (at his most mystic) to transcend the human condition all together to become star child, to become male mermaid (as on “1983/A Merman I Should Turn to Be”). Indeed his whole career can be seen as an attempt to reconcile and/or explode such standard oppositions as black versus white, male versus female, the dandy versus the savage, voodoo (the blues) versus Christian salvation (soul), roots versus rootlessness, earthy versus cosmic, tradition versus avant-garde, bohemian art rock versus funk/soul razzmatazz.
Setting himself against the narrow conceptual biases of what constituted “real” black music, Hendrix transformed and transcended the limits of what a black musician could and should be. Among the first, if not the first, African-Americans in pop to lay claim to the status of artist rather than entertainer, he did his apprenticeship in soul review bands (most notably the Isley Brothers, Little Richard, and Curtis Knight and the Squires) on the “chitlin circuit,” but chafed at the strictures, discipline, and show-biz protocols that were expected of him. Hendrix opened up the possibility for black musicians to be — imagewise and soundwise — messy and self-indulgent. In this he was the polar opposite of James Brown, disciplinarian band leader and the professional servant of a popular audience. In contrast, Hendrix was an aural aristocrat with musical laws unto himself — a solar flare with solo flair, a quality that got him kicked out of many soul bands before his eventual success in the U.K. For his efforts, he was branded a psychedelic Uncle Tom. A more unjust accusation in the history of rock criticism is difficult to imagine.
Yet many of his more fervent supporters seem to add fuel to this charge. Alvin Lee from Ten Years After once said, “Hendrix wasn’t black or white. Hendrix was Hendrix.” Hendrix was Hendrix, but Hendrix was black. In his excellent biography of Hendrix, 'Scuse Me While I Kiss the Sky, David Henderson, an award-winning African-American poet, does a convincing job of debunking the misperception that Hendrix was an Uncle Tom who played exclusively to white audiences. Recalling a meeting between a group of blacks and Hendrix at TTG Studios in Hollywood, Henderson tells how the guitarist expressed concern about the lack of any black support for his music. Not so, said his fellow black musicians. Blacks did buy his records and go to his concerts, but they were rendered virtually invisible by the overwhelming popularity of Hendrix among the mass white audience.
What was true was that black radio did not play his records. Since so much of black radio was white-controlled at that time, that’s hardly Hendrix’s fault. Moreover, when he jettisoned his all-white band, the Experience, for the all-black Band of Gypsys, it was met with much resistance from his management. But the suspicion still lingers that Hendrix was a disgrace to the race, especially in his refusal to become too closely aligned with black revolutionary movements. Hendrix was a pacifist who refused to give the Black Panthers the explicit gesture of support that they expected from him and got from other entertainers. But as Robert Wyatt, ex-drummer and vocalist with Soft Machine, says, Hendrix didn’t “have to go around making political statements. … he was living a political life of great importance.”
Hendrix didn’t need to comment on the issues of the times, racial or not, because the times were in his music. For instance, Hendrix was the soundtrack to Vietnam, for soldiers and for civilians alike. Both “Machine Gun” and his version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” are among the most profound works of American art ever made about the war. Vernon Reid once admitted to having mistakenly thought that Hendrix had served in Vietnam. And for the movie version of the real thing (Apocalypse Now), Francis Ford Coppola employed Randy Hansen, a Hendrix impersonator, for the soundtrack.
In 'Scuse Me While I Kiss the Sky, Henderson tells of the time in 1969 that Hendrix played a Harlem street fair. Hosted by a popular local radio DJ Eddie O-Jay (ironically another black DJ who didn’t play Hendrix’s records), Jimi performed “Voodoo Chile,” among other songs, which he referred to onstage as “Harlem’s national anthem.” And of course in a way Hendrix was right. With its explicit evocation and celebration of the supernatural powers and magical transformations at the heart of African religion, “Voodoo Chile” is at least as “black” (if such distinctions are important to you) as James Brown’s “Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud.” So much for Uncle Tom.
After Hendrix finished his show, he was approached by a black nationalist who said, “Hey brother, you better come home.” Hendrix replied, “You gotta do what you gotta do, and I gotta do what I gotta do now.”
Me and my friend had a very tearful discussion about our boy cole and rubiam post ITA and reached the following conclusions:
1) Ruby would probably want Liam to see and understand Cole the way she did. She’d probably end up telling him about the scar and what follows will be one of the worst breakdowns she’d ever seen Liam have. But together, they’d make it through this rocky patch.
2) Cole would never leave them. They’d see him in every red they helped. Yes, Ruby would try to help as many reds as she could. And then Liam would make sure they had a place to stay after they’re themselves again. Together, they’d make Cole proud. And then they’d finally name their first born Cole.
3) They’d bless their son with stories about Cole about the kind of man he was and how he led and helped others. Our boy Liam would do the storytelling mostly with Ruby adding in.
4) Little Cole would come home with drawings of the family with Cole in it too. The first time when Ruby sees it, she’d probably be close to tears. Because it could’ve been better. It should’ve been better.
5) Cole JR would hunt for newspaper clippings about Cole. At a point, Cole would become his hero. One day, Ruby would probably stumble upon the clipping and she’d break down and Liam would hold her.
6) They’d definitely take Cole jr to Cole’s grave.
“I want to be more like you.” Cole jr @ cole
“Don’t be like me. Stay true to you. Don’t let the flame inside you burn out. I didn’t fight hard enough. Be the better man. Be like your mom who fought so hard and like your dad who stood up for what he believed in. Make your parents proud.”
Suddenly, the children heard frantic banging on their front door and a woman’s panicked screams.
“Her voice was, like, she was going to die if I didn’t open that door,” James said.
He hesitated and looked at his sister, who stood stunned and silent. He could have ignored the woman’s screams for help, could have kept this frightening intrusion out of their house and out of their lives.
“A lot of people, maybe most people, would’ve been like, ‘Get the hell off my porch,’ ” James Jr., the father, said.
Instead, the teenager unlocked the door. The woman charged in, ran to the kitchen and hid.
A senior at Central Michigan University several miles north, the woman was walking to her car in a school parking lot when Eric Ramsey, a 30-year-old ex-convict, approached her with a gun, got into her vehicle, took her to his mother’s house and raped her.
The woman was an alarming sight. She had clear packing tape wrapped around her body. There were bruises on her face. She was cradling one of her arms, which she said was broken after she leaped from the vehicle as Ramsey was driving down South Mission.
She saw the little house with its porch light in the darkness, ran to it and begged to be let inside.
“She’s like, 'We gotta hide! There’s someone out there who just kidnapped me and he’s trying to kill me,” James said.
Acelin peered out the window. She saw a vehicle moving with menacing slowness up the long, winding driveway.
It was Ramsey.
James locked the front door and ran to the side door to lock it, too. He herded everyone into the bathroom to hide. The injured woman got in the bathtub and cowered. Acelin and Angus joined her.
James went to his bedroom and grabbed the one weapon he has – a hunting knife. He pulled his Labrador retriever by the collar into the bathroom and closed the door, which has no lock. James turned the lights off, so if Ramsey got inside, he might pass by the bathroom and look for them in another room first.
“Let me in or I’ll kill you,” Ramsey kept shouting.
There they were – a rape victim, a dog too friendly to offer much protection and three frightened children, hiding in the dark, convinced they were about to die at the hands of the man trying to get inside. And the only thing that stood between them and him was a 5-foot-8, 142-pound 14-year-old boy holding a small knife.
James handed the victim his cellphone, and she called 911. He then called his father at the family store.
“We need help right now,” James told his dad. “There’s a man outside our door trying to get in, and I’m really afraid.”
James Jr. threw the phone on the counter and ran out without his jacket or his house key. He jumped in his car and headed home, speeding down the dirt roads in the pitch-black country darkness.
As they waited for their dad, Acelin kept calling for her brother.
“I wanted him to come in the bathtub with me and just hug each other and say good-bye,” she said. “I didn’t know what was going to happen, if we didn’t make it, if he actually did make it in here and my dad didn’t get home in time.”
The pounding and screaming suddenly stopped. The children hoped it meant Ramsey was gone.
But he was still outside. And he was trying to burn them alive.
Ramsey grabbed a can of gas from the vehicle, poured it around the base of the house, lit it and drove off.
As James Jr., barreling in his car through the darkness, approached his street, he turned off his headlights. He was hoping to sneak up on the house and catch Ramsey by surprise.
Instead, he found his house on fire.
The kids didn’t know it. They only knew the banging and yelling had started again, and they braced themselves.
But this time, it was their dad. He roared up in his car, scrambled out and began throwing his body against the flames to extinguish them. He tried opening the locked doors, but he had no key, so he started trying to break windows to get inside.
At that very moment, a sheriff’s deputy pulled up, the first to respond to the 911 call. He saw a man screaming and trying get into the house – a man who matched the description given in the 911 call.
The deputy drew his gun and pointed it at the hysterical man running toward him.
“I’m the dad! I’m the dad!” James Jr. shouted.
The children finally opened the door at the sight of police cars pulling up to the house.
The deputies interviewed the victim and the kids before the woman was taken away by ambulance.
Finally, police called around 5 a.m. Thursday to let them know Ramsey wouldn’t be back. He had been shot and killed.
When James went back to school, people came up to congratulate the 14-year-old boy for the way he protected his family, rising to the occasion with calm courage. Some told him he’s a hero, but he downplays that term.
His dad said he merely did the right thing.
“We never put the word 'hero’ out there,” James Jr. said. “We just kept saying, 'We’re proud of you.’ ”
So freaking angry at mnet!😤😡 They did Nu'est so wrong, like how could you?! Pledis better not screw up and drop the ball on them, they need all the love and support they can get. I hope we hear from Aron soon, his family need him right now. I just want my babies to succeed and they’re not even giving them a chance. Like I’m proud of Minhyun but he’s all alone and who knows if he’s going to have a group to come back to. Pledis has horrible track record with supporting their artists ad promoting them.
We love you Mingi, Minhyun, Dongho, JR, and Aron! Keep fighting and remember that we love you boys no matter what!
Sidenote, pd101 was an evil show from the start. The whole concept is just awful and shame on pledis for putting the boys through that.
Aaron Burr Jr. was an American politician. He was the third Vice President of the United States, serving during President Thomas Jefferson’s first term.
Aaron Burr was a great father. Primarily this may be due to the fact that Aaron Burr was an orphan by the time he was two and never grew up with any parents. The women he married, Theodosia Prevost was a feminist and had strong beliefs in the empowerment of women.
In June 21st, 1783, Theodosia gave birth to a daughter- named Theodosia, like her mother. According to Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr, author Nancy Isenberg wrote:
“The new father took all of his parental responsibilities seriously, beyond just caring for the young Theodosia.” (Isenburg 79).
Taking into fact that when Aaron Burr married Theodosia, she was a widow and had children from her previous marriage. Nancy Isenberg continues:
“He found a tutor for his wife’s two teenage sons, Frederick and Bartow, giving them clerkships in his law office.” (Isenburg 80).
After Theodosia jr., Theodosia sr. would go along to give birth to three more children from Burr- each died just after birth. Theodosia would be the Burr child to survive to adulthood.
Because Aaron Burr can be classified as a feminist (both his wife and himself were strong supporters of equal rights to women’s education and the belief that women could participate in politics; Aaron Burr raised his daughter as you would a boy at the time.
“Theodosia told her husband, in one instance, that she was delighted by her children’s reaction to a particularly rude guest, who greedily consumed an excessive amount of wine during his visit: “Few parents can boast of children whose minds are so prone to virtue”. She was proud that her children had viewed the guest with “uttermost comtempt.” (Isenburg 79).
While Theodosia sr. was mainly in charge of Theodosia jr.’s education:
“During the first ten years of their daughter’s life (1783-93), her mother’s role as an educator was crucial, especially since her father was often away”. (Isenburg 79).
Theodosia sr. raised her daughter to slight views Rousseau, an Enlightenment thinker who believed all of man were born good and it was society which made them evil. It was belief also that,
“All that we lack at birth and that we need when we are gown is given by education”.
Education was about saving children’s souls.
Burr highly endorsed the words of Mary Wollstonecraft, a feminist Enlightenment thinker. Burr was utmost disgusted at the idea that his daughter could become fashionable for the eye. He believed that if his Theodosia were to become this, that,
“His daughter would be spiritually dead. So what was the point of living?” (Isenburg 80).
Theodosia sr. and Aaron Burr introduced their daughter to a rigorous curriculum early in life. She could read and write by age three! She was even writing letters to her father by age five! She studied math, geography, Latin, Greek, French and excelled at a pace that was well beyond her years. Theodosia at eight years of age would practice writing from five to eight in the morning, and for three more hours in the evening. She devoted three hours to math and French, followed by some kind of exercise: riding, skating or dancing.
Her father loved her skating, writing:
“Falling twenty times would teach her the advantage of a hard head.” (Isenburg 80).
Burr felt that the mission to raise an accomplished daughter was growing stronger and stronger by day.
For Aaron Burr’s strong belief in the equality of women, led him to build his daughter up on a strong foundation as well as growing a stronger relationship between himself and his daughter. Who I may argue was even stronger than Aaron Burr himself.
Aaron Burr hated laziness. Burr even had Theodosia apprentice at his law firm. Unfortunately, since at the time women were prejudiced against, there were limitations to how much Theodosia could do. She could not become a lawyer or a politician thought she could educate her won children and serve as a model for women empowerment.
In a reflection on Mary Wollstonecraft, the women’s words who had taken over his home- Burr wrote to Theodosia.
Geoff and Jack were seasoned professionals when it came to heists, they knew everything worth knowing about their business. So when the boys were old enough, their surrogate parents taught them all about the fine art of heisting. Geoff figured that the best way for the boys to learn was by having them participate in heists themselves. But he wanted to have fun with it. So instead of planning a series of successful heists for them to undertake, Geoff instead instructed them each to plan a heist of their own. It was partially a test to see how well the boys could manage such a huge task. But mostly, he just wanted to see what the teens could come up with.
Figuring that the fairest way to decide who went first would be to draw the names out of a hat. Geoff fathered the family together and dramatically pulled the first name from Jack’s elf hat, bracing himself when he realised that Gavin was up first.
“When he was 2 years old, he fell down and knocked out a tooth. One day I saw this gap-toothed boy playing outside the President’s office and asked him to smile and took a photo. A couple of days later, I asked him to autograph it. He made a whole mess of chicken scratches, so I held his hand, and we scratched the name "John” in the corner. Recently I saw him at a party and asked him to sign that photo again. “Mr. Stoughton,” he wrote, “now I can sign my own name.” I would have been proud to have him as a son.“ -Cecil Stoughton, former White House photographer
I’m honestly crying so much and just so happy for the boys, but there’s always going to be a special place in my heart for Mark especially because he WROTE THE LYRICS!!!! to TWO!!!!! (Can’t and See the Light) of the songs on Flight Log: Departure!!!!! This is coming from a boy who didn’t know any Korean when he started, who felt insecure about his own talents and didn’t know how to sing, rap, or dance before he began training at JYP!!!! I’m proud of all of the boys but I can’t help but be so happy that Mark’s being so active in the construction of the album and just seeing his improvement from when he started to now is so humbling. Thank you for working so hard and improving yourself, Mark!
After lunch yesterday, the boy and I were out running errands when he told me that when he grows up and has kids of his own, he’s gonna name his son Kipp Junior Junior-Junior Jr. And I was all, Why all of the juniors? And the boy was all, “My son’s first name will be Kipp, named after you, obvs, then his middle name will be Junior, then his last name will be Junior-Junior, and since he’s a junior Kipp, he’ll be a Jr.”
And I was all, I’m pretty sure that’s not how naming conventions work. You could name your son Kipp Jarkalooky II? And the boy was all, “Kipp Junior Junior-Junior Jr. is so much more punk rock than Kipp Jarkalooky, don’t you think?” And I was all, Sure.
But what I really wanted to say was, I am so proud that I’m raising an absurdist.