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athymelyreply · 3 days

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A highly recommended read. Full text of article under cut

On October 7, I was not hiding with my child in the safe room. My house was not burnt to the ground, and my husband didn't blow me a last kiss before his killer fired a fatal bullet.

I was safely at home in London where I have lived for over 30 years when my elderly peace-activist parents, Oded and Yocheved Lifschitz, along with 77 others members of the community, were taken hostage, barefoot and in their pajamas from their homes in the kibbutz where I was born and raised.

Israel's hostages in Gaza: A matter of life and death

Israeli peace activists who lost loved ones in the Hamas massacre stand their ground

What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz

For the past 229 days, together with the families of the other of hostages taken captive which now number 128, we have taken part in the fight for the lives of our loved ones.

A photo of the writer, Sharone Lifschitz's parents, Yocheved and Oded Lifschitz, who were both kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza on October 7. To date, only Yocheved Lifschitz has returned. Credit: Amiram Oren

In Nir Oz, my family's kibbutz, one in four people (117 in total), were either executed or kidnapped. We are still piecing together the events of that brutal day that Hamas terrorists and some Gazan civilians, perpetrated medieval levels of cruelty, driven by hate and revenge, blinded by radical religious ideology and super-charged with amphetamines.

Last month, at the "Seder in the Streets" event in New York, activist Naomi Klein spoke as if none of that ever took place. Instead, addressing hundreds who gathered for a combination Passover Seder and protest of the war in Gaza, she spoke of what she termed the "False Idol of Zionism", comparing Jewish support of it to the Israelites "worshiping" the golden calf and recalling Moses' rage seeing the spectacle.

Klein's interpretation seems to miss the point: Moses, unlike Klein, did not disengage. He did not give up on his people when they worshipped a false idol. Instead, without compromising his integrity and beliefs, he guided them through the desert for forty more years in their journey to become a nation. Klein, at this dangerous moment in history, is failing to lead her listeners to take responsibility, to engage and work towards a shared future in the region for Jews and Palestinians, one built on the preciousness of life on both sides and an understanding of the original intention of Zionism: the necessity for a safe home for the Jewish people.

"Seder in the Street" was also protesting the heartbreaking and ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza and settler violence in the West Bank. Many in Israel, like my parents, would agree. Yet their plight and that of the other hostages – most of them civilians, from a baby boy of one year to a man of 86 - are not mentioned at Seder in the Streets or other gatherings of far-left pro-Palestinian Jewish activists.

My father, Oded Lifschitz, who is 83, and his friends who are also hostages, all in their late 70s and 80s, have worked for peace for decades. My mother, Yocheved Lifschitz, was thankfully released after 17 days of captivity.

Yocheved Lifschitz after being released from 17 days in Hamas captivity, in Tel Aviv, Israel in late October. Credit: Tomer Appelbaum

How much more effective these protests could be if activists abroad could act as a bridge between the pro-Palestinian movement and progressives fighting for peace in Israel?

Hamas, a terrorist organization which has been systematically stripping freedom, women's rights and democracy from the Gaza strip since 2006 are also strangely left out of the discussion. In fact, I see more criticism of the Hamas attack and crimes from moderate Palestinian voices than from prominent Jewish voices of the pro-Palestinian movement in the United States and Europe.

Klein is instead content in disengaging from Israel based on a distorted idea of Zionism and in so doing offers no solidarity with the moderate, progressive Jews living in Israel and for whom rejecting Zionism is irrelevant at this moment. Whether we like our government's policies or hate them as many do, Israel is home. Just as Canada is Klein's home, whether or not she likes the policies of the Canadian government or condones its mistreatment of its Indigenous population.

I consider myself pro-Palestinian. My family has always fought for a shared future for our two peoples, understanding this key point: our fates are interlinked. My parents have advocated for peace and equality for and with the Palestinians since the 1960s. We have united as a family to protest policies of the current Israeli government we find abhorrent. I wish for the Palestinians what I want for my own people: to live without bloodshed, in their own democratic state, as part of a negotiated two-state solution.

The facts are indisputable to Zionists and non-Zionists alike: There are about 7 million Jews and 7 million Palestinians living in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Jewish Israelis cannot be expected to reject the idea that they can and should have the right to live safely in Israel. Without Israel, where would they go?

Everyone who cares about what's best for the region must strengthen those who are working for a peaceful future. As my father always says, "You make peace with your enemies."

A Palestinian family rides on the back of a donkey-drawn carriage next to damaged buildings in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, in April.Credit: AFP

Thanks to international efforts to formulate a plan for the "day after" the war in Gaza, we are potentially closer to a long-term political agreement to lift us out of conflict than ever before. To help facilitate it, American and European progressives must distinguish between religious fanatics on both sides and those working toward a path of justice and peace for everyone in the region.

We must differentiate the liberal American pro-Palestinian activists from those who justify Hamas atrocities as acts of resistance. The dominant current narrative of the American far left, including the Jews among them, unwittingly aligns with Iran, and with antidemocratic and illiberal forces.

Instead of fostering hate and promoting disengagement from Israel, progressives abroad should help those in the region regain a sense that another future is possible and advocate for a negotiated political agreement that would create a state of Palestine established alongside the state of Israel. It won't be perfect, but it will be a good start.

The work of advocating for a different, sustainable future, must start with a call for the immediate release of hostages as part of a long-term agreement, backed by America and its allies, including moderate Arab states, that has the potential to transform the lives of Palestinians and Israelis by rescuing them from this ongoing tragedy. To fail to do so is to fail not just the hostages and their families, but to throw all the people of the region further into the abyss and undo the inspiring work of moderate forces within Israeli and Palestinian society.

In this, our darkest hour, we ask ourselves, who is our enemy? My enemy is the blind hate that seeks to erase the humanity of the other side. All of us who are horrified by what is unfolding in Gaza should work toward empowering the people of the region to move away from our common enemy. That's not Zionism, but rather the religious fanaticism we have within both our societies – Israeli and Palestinian – that threatens to engulf us all.

Sometimes, I want to shout at the news on TV, to remind people that their indulgent engagement in hatred of one side is so futile, so self-congratulatory. We can do better.

As we bleed and grieve, and in the case of families like my own – hang suspended between hope and despair for the fate of our loved ones, we must seek points of human connection between Jews and Palestinians, we must fight, not against one another, but for a practical solution that dismantles the status quo so that we can all survive – and live in freedom and security.

Sharone Lifschitz is a London-based filmmaker and academic originally from Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose parents were taken hostage on October 7. On Twitter: @Lifschitz_sha

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eretzyisrael · 8 months

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When my daughter was 12, a teacher asked her to debate the following motion: Is Zionism racism?

The invitation was made during a Year 8 citizenship lesson on democracy. Pupils were asked to give examples of democratic countries and when Leah offered Israel as an example, the teacher shook her head. Even at the tender age of 12, my daughter sensed this as an attack on the Jews’ nation state and, flustered, she said something back. Unmoved, her teacher took her on: “OK, let’s debate this properly,” she said.

Two years later my daughter was walking to an English lesson with her friends Mumtaz and Sara* when the words, “Viva, Viva Palestina!” rang out in the corridor. The girls looked up and to Leah’s horror and Mumtaz and Sara’s delight, they saw their maths teacher walking towards them, his thumbs cocked up in approval. What was he so pleased about? The slogan on Sara’s T-shirt: “Free Gaza.”

Earlier this month, the JC reported that the number of Jewish children attending Jewish faith schools in Britain is set to reach 40,000 by 2025. For a community that at the last census numbered 271,000, this is an astonishing figure. Even more surprising when you consider it is nearly eight times more than in the 1950s, despite the decline in Britain’s Jewish population over the same period.

According to a new report from the Institute for Jewish Policy Research, the main reason a growing number of Jews send their kids to Jewish faith schools is to develop their sense of Jewish identity. Eight in ten parents give this as their reason. Six in ten say it is so their offspring will make friends with kids with similar values.

But only two in ten choose a Jewish education because they are worried about antisemitism, and this surprises me. When it was time to select a secondary for Leah’s younger brother, the possibility that he might encounter the antisemitism his sister had experienced was the reason I opted for a Jewish school.

But it still wasn’t an easy decision. I had to wrestle with myself. I do not have to be convinced of the arguments for local schools. They are good for communities, for stitching together the fabric of the nation.

When, in 2012, I sent Leah to our local mainstream secondary, a school where you can count the number of Jewish pupils on the fingers of one hand, it was with these thoughts in mind. But six years later, my theory had parted company with my feelings. I had, in the words of the Jewish writer Irving Kristol, been mugged by reality.

During her time at secondary school, Leah experienced antisemitism in all its variations. Religious: you killed Christ and think you’re God’s chosen people. Racial: how come you haven’t got a big nose? Economic: Jews are rich. Political: Israel is racist.

Generally, the black and white working-class kids spouted the religious and racial racism; the Muslim and middle-class pupils peddled the political prejudice; and everyone agreed that Jews were loaded.

But unpleasant as it all was, Leah never felt her classmates were trying to hurt her. Their words came from a place of ignorance rather than malice. Whenever she said, “You can’t say that, and here’s why”, they listened and mostly accepted they were simply parroting things they had heard.

With the staff, it was a different story. In my experience, teachers don’t generally like backing down, or being corrected by a child — and my child tried to do just that.

The second half of Leah’s secondary education coincided with the Corbyn years and most of the teachers at her London school openly supported the former Labour leader in the classroom and on social media. He wasn’t the school’s local MP, but right up until the last general election, when stories about Labour’s antisemitism problem were an almost daily news event, Corbyn was still being invited to talk.

But for her teachers, one of whom had the Palestinian flag as his Facebook profile picture, if you didn’t support Corbyn you were a Tory and to be a Tory was to be scum. Corbyn was the victim of a witch-hunt, of unfair media coverage, they said.

It wasn’t the easiest environment in which to be a Jewish student (who doesn’t vote Tory), but outspoken, well-read and vocal about antisemitism, Leah fought the good fight and I imagine it irked her teachers.

Is this why, I have wondered, her initial A-level predictions were good, but not quite good enough, and I had to fight hard to get them raised to A*A*A, the grades Leah actually got in the summer of 2019? Is this why the school omitted to mention my daughter’s stellar A-levels, the best arts results in her year, when it announced the grades of its top-performing students?

I shall never know for sure, but the whole experience wasn’t one I wanted to risk repeating. Which is why in two years’ time, when 40,000 Jewish children are predicted to attend Jewish schools in this country, my son will remain one of them. *All names have been changed

#zionism #democracy #racism #academia

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thestargirlfromoon · 2 years

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Saeran x Reader

I reincarnated as an

extra believer of Mint Eye

Chapter 2

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Summary:

You reincarnated in your favorite otome game: Mystic Messenger.But you didn't reincarnate as the protagonist or the villain, you reincarnate as one of the random Mint Eye believer who is so irrelevant that you wasn't even mentioned in the game and have a mysterious past.Will you be able to survive trapped in a religious cult, being just an extra whose existence has no relevance in the story?you will be able to find a happy ending after falling madly in love with a hacker who love flowers and is one of the protagonist's love interests?

In the next day I found Ray again in the garden at night. this time I dared try to talk to him more.

As soon as Ray finished watering the garden, I called to him and patted the ground beside me to encourage him to lie down.

He just stood there trying to understand my actions, he was quite oblivious.

-Lie down here. I said simply and he was quiet for a confused moment, like a deer caught in headlights.

I turned my gaze to the sky thinking it was kind of clueless of me to talk to him so casually. I was going to open my mouth to apologize but before that he obeyed and cautiously lay down next to me.

We stay in a comfortable silence watching the clouds roll by. With each passing minute he seemed less tense with my presence.

-Look, that cloud looks like a flower! Ray spoke excitedly and I turned my gaze to him in surprise at his sudden animation, he noticed and looked a little embarrassed.

-S-sorry.he apologized embarrassed.

-Why are you apologizing? You do not do anything wrong.

"Sorr-" his voice cracked when he realized he was going to say the same thing.

-Did you eat right today? I asked.

-Huh?ah...did you eat?he tried to change the subject.

I sighed, he doesn't know how to take care of his own health at all, he's so frustrating.

-Wait for me here, I'll be right back. I got up without any explanation and went to the kitchen, got some fruit and sweets and came back.

- Eat some of these. I said casually taking a bite of an apple.

Ray seeing my determined expression, shyly picked some strawberries and started to eat.

We stayed for a while eating the fruits and sweets i brought looking at the sky until a believer came to us.

-Number C002 do you have a minute? a tall guy asked.

-Uhm yes. I said and stood up giving a quick wave to Ray.

I followed the guy and he stopped in the hallway, he asked me to go into a room and then clean and organizebeverything that was there. I obeyed and went back to work.

I went to finish everything only late at night, I went back to my room and lay in bed exhausted.

(...)

In the cold room lit only by the monitors late at night was the young hacker, Ray in the midst of his unconscious work found himself looking for information about the girl who had treated him so kindly.

He had never noticed that there was a girl like that in the Mint Eye, he knew that her codename was C002 and that she was in the support room, but he knew this information from most believers, that was just to be sure that there was no intruders.

But when you treated him tenderly and made sure he ate, for some reason he found himself thinking repeatedly of you and your friendly smile.

The poor guy didn't know kindness in his life, he was betrayed, broken and tormented.

When you noticed how much effort he put in and even took the trouble to cook for him, then offer him fruit and on top of that talk to him, he felt strange, he felt happy.

It was the first time anyone had shown genuine concern for him.

It was the first time someone had cooked for him and given him such a warm smile, although an act like that for many is something simple, for Ray it meant a lot.

He found himself wanting to know more about you, the boy even managed to hack your phone just to learn everything he could about you.

Ray wanted to be friends with you, he didn't understand about friendship, but he wanted to learn from you.

(...)

I sighed, my body aching from so much I had worked today, being a member of Mint eye is really not easy at all.

I heard a small noise on the cell phone and i lazily took it in my hands.

As soon as I turned on the screen, several codes appeared.

I looked at the information that appeared on the screen, "Y/n entered the chat room" I was confused for a moment seeing the finished download of an apk that I don't remember downloading until I received a message from none other than Ray .

Ray: Hello C002.

Y/n: Ray? how did you get my number?

Ray: Uhm... it's a secret.^^

I read the surprise message, I couldn't help but smile.

Ray: I wanted to thank you for earlier, i hope I'm not bothering you with anything.

Y/n: Don't worry, I finished all my tasks for today.

Ray: Good! Did you see that in this chat you can send personalized stickers? I added for you too!

Y/n: You're right, they're so cute!

Ray: I'm glad you liked it. I wish I could continue chatting with you, but unfortunately now I have to go back to work.

Ray: I hope you have a good night C002.

Y/n: Good night to you too Ray.

I saw myself smiling at the cell phone screen, today was tiring but pleasantly surprising. I believe that tonight I will have good dreams.

(...)

As soon as I woke up I saw myself preparing my breakfast, I remembered about Ray and decided to send him a message to remind him to eat.

y/n:good morning Ray, have you had your breakfast yet?

No reply.

I sighed putting my phone back in my pocket and started eating, maybe I should bring him some fruit.

I stopped eating for a moment and took some fresh fruits up to Ray's room.As soon as i knocked on the door there was no answer so i opened it and found the monitors room empty.

I carefully placed the fruits on his small table and returned to finish my breakfast.As soon as i walked into the kitchen i found the friendly believer from before who greeted me with a small smile.

- hey c002 heard the news? a new girl just arrived in mint eye.

-what? I stared at the friendly believer.

I had barely woken up and I already received such news. Mc probably has arrived to the Mint eye, which means that now the story will begin to unfold.

I bit my lip anxiously, that means Ray and Mc will...

-number c002 go to the room that is occupied on the top floor and make sure you clean it every morning from today.A believer interrupted my thoughts.

I mumbled an "okay" soon saying goodbye to the believer friend who obediently went to wash the pots at the believer's request, I went to get cleaning products and then look for the room.

it didn't take long to find it since there were two believers in front of the door watching, it was probably mc's room.After showing my identification card, one of the believers allowed me to enter the room.I just didn't expect to see Ray in there.

He and mc seemed to be having a friendly conversation until they noticed my presence.

-oh c002!were you in charge of cleaning?Ray looked at me in surprise, i just nodded silently.

He took an shy goodbye to me and mc saying that he would now go back to work and leave the rest to me.

Mc gave me a friendly smile and went to play with her cell phone, probably going to test the "game".

After silently cleaning the room I withdrew and said a gentle goodbye to mc.She was indeed pretty, I wonder if Ray is already obsessed with her or whatever he felt for her at the beginning of the game.

I sighed, Rika in the game hadn't lied when she said there wasn't anyone as attractive as Mc in Mint eye.My current appearance wasn't bad at all but here at Mint eye apparently believers don't have luxuries like makeup or beauty products in their rooms, we are constantly working, as soon as I saw my reflection for the 1st time I realized that there were some dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights and tiredness.

I can't deny that I feel a little pain imagining Ray in love with her, when I played I was happy since I was the mc but now it's not a game anymore and I'm not the mc.I'm just an extra who'll probably watch Ray fall in love with her and run away from Mint eye while I'll just be stuck here like a believing extra should.I snapped out of my dark thoughts after hearing a notification sound on my phone.

Y/n: good morning ray, have you had your breakfast yet?

Ray: good morning C002, sorry for the delay I was taking care of a very important matter. thank you so much for the fruits, they were sweet and fresh.

Important matter huh? I sighed again trying to control the feeling of jealousy that was rising in me.Lost in thought i didn't notice the next message Ray sent me and i just put my phone in my pocket and went to do more tasks.

Ray: are you going to the garden tonight too?

(...)

When night came I didn't feel like going out to the garden knowing that Ray would have his attention on mc.I would hate to meet him and he decides to start talking about her. I kept working and when I realized it was too late.

I threw myself on bed exhausted, no matter how many days I was in Mint eye, I would never get used to this load of heavy and tiring tasks.Just as i was about to fall asleep i heard rather desperate knocking on my door.I whimpered, imagining that maybe it was some believer coming to give me more work to do.

I lazily got up and opened the door to find Ray, who simply walked into my room before I could say anything.

I closed the door confused and turned my gaze to him.

-where were you c002? why didn't you answer the messages? i even called you.Ray asked me desperately.

I picked up my cell phone still confused and came across several message notifications and missed calls from Ray.

-ah that, I... he interrupted me.

-I thought maybe you had missed some assignment and they made you drink more elixir but you seem fine huh, apparently you were just spending time with some believer out there.I saw ray's eyes darken a little, there was a bit of hurt in his voice and he looked at me with a somber expression, if I didn't know better I'd say he's pretty scary.

-I-I just wasn't feeling very well and there were a lot of tasks, I wanted to finish as soon as possible to get some rest that's all.I lied a little nervous under his dark gaze that looked at me as if he was trying to scan my mind.

He just looked at me silently for a moment and went back to his usual self.

-I-I see, are you feeling better?He asked, his somber expression from before having been replaced by one of concern.

-A little, I think I just need to rest a little. I admitted, in a way it was true since I was exhausted.

-Have you already had dinner? He asked still worried and I felt my stomach rumble.

I was so busy with dark thoughts that I had forgotten to eat.

Ray just asked me to lie down and left my room and then came back with a tray of food.I thanked him and he bade me good night leaving my room and informing me that if I was in pain i have to let him know, I released the breath I didn't know I was holding and started to eat.

That night it didn't take long for me to fall asleep.

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ingramhejlesen6 · 2 years

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writingwithcolor · 4 years

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B’nei mitzvah in spaceship without Jewish community | Jewish character celebrating Christmas

Hi! Thank you so much for running this blog. I appreciate how much time and effort all the mods have put into it. I finished reading through the whole Jewish tag a few days ago, and I’ve learned so much! I’m writing a Voltron fic (I *know* lol) and decided to make one of the protagonists a white nonbinary Ashkenazi Reform Jewish girl. Her astronaut brother mysteriously disappears in space and is presumed dead, so she runs away from home a couple of months before her b'nei mitzvah to find him. Now, she’s in a group of rebels in space fighting against an Empire. I have two concerns:

1. Everyone on the ship misses home, so part of the way they cope is through getting in touch with their cultures. They’re gonna celebrate (a mostly non-Americanized) Christmas because it matters a lot to some of the characters for non-religious reasons. To what extent can my Jewish character participate in the celebration without it being weird? I want her to enjoy herself more because she’s with her friends than because Jesus etc. They’ll also celebrate Chanukah, if that helps. I know Chanukah isn’t a major holiday, so I also want to have her celebrate a more significant one like Rosh Hashanah and/or Purim with them. Is it okay for gentiles to participate in those holiday celebrations, or should she do that alone?

2. Throughout most of the story, she’ll struggle with choosing whether to prioritize fighting the Empire or finding her brother and bringing him home. When she eventually does find her brother (who also turns out to be a rebel), he lets her decide whether they stay or go home. I thought it would be nice if she decided to stay and keep fighting for the greater good after she finally has her b'nei mitzvah. Her friends and other experiences are also a big part of why she decides to stay, but the b'nei mitzvah would be what gives her the final push she needs to decide. I don’t know if it would be okay for me to write the ceremony itself or if she can even have one if only two of the eight people on the ship are Jewish. I read that not everyone has a b'nei mitzvah and that it’s not required, but I feel like it’d be a big deal to her character. Should I keep the b'nei mitzvah idea, or am I heading towards appropriative territory here?

I want to make her Jewishness a big part of her character’s growth, and I really want to make sure I do it respectfully and accurately. I plan on finding a sensitivity reader when I’ve made more progress with actually writing everything out. Thank you for any insight you might offer!

It feels off to me to join a community symbolically when you’re far away FROM the community. Why not just have had her already have done the ceremony before she has all these adventures? That way it could just be a straightforward story about a Jewish teen having exciting heroic adventures in space, rather than a story about what happens when you have to miss aspects of Jewish life because you’re in space. It would also make the “….well, I guess I’m around for Christmas” bit less weighted because then that would be the only one of those instead of having two of those.

–Shira

I’ll cover some other territory here. For those who don’t know, b'nei mitzvah is something you just automatically become at the correct age, the ceremony is simply to celebrate that with the community. Not all people have the ceremony, but if you are Jewish, and of age (for religious purposes), your status changes with or without it. Personally, I’m comfortable with showing a Jewish character finding a way to have a Jewish celebration when the circumstances are less than ideal, for me the other aspects of the story are more troubling.

On the subject of having a Jewish character celebrate Christmas with their friends… look I don’t like this trope. There are many Jewish people, who are completely secular, who don’t celebrate Christmas, because it is explicitly a Christian holiday, and secular Jewish people are still Jewish. Some Jewish people (secular or otherwise) do choose to celebrate other holidays, and I am very comfortable with those folks telling their own stories. What I’m not happy with is the push from outside of the community for every Jewish character to slide into assimilation.

Some Jewish people will go to Christmas parties and not eat the food, because they keep kosher, or won’t stay for a tree-lighting, because that feels like it goes too far, or will give presents but not receive them. There are a huge number of ways we might handle Christmas, and I appreciate that you plan to show holidays other than just Chanukah (and yes, it’s fine for non-Jewish characters to join her in her holidays, if she invites them), but I always question why a non-Jewish writer is so keen to show Jewish characters celebrating Christmas. The most generous version of me wants to assume that you get so much out of Christmas that you want to share it, but the part of me that knows about the pressures to assimilate, and the history of increased antisemitic violence around Christmas thinks… just leave this kid alone. She missed her celebration, she’s far from her community, and now she has to go put on a Happy Assimilated Smile for the culturally Christian folks around her. From a nonbinary Jewish perspective, it’s a little unusual for your nonbinary character to use she/her pronouns, and use b'nei mitzvah as a gender neutral alternative to the gendered bat mitzvah. In secular life, at least in the US, it’s not uncommon for people to use multiple pronouns, but I haven’t met, or even heard of, a single person using gendered pronouns secularly, and using new neutral alternatives religiously. It absolutely could happen but, because it is so unusual, to me it reads as either invalidating the character’s gender, or tokenizing her in the religious sphere.

–Dierdra

Shira, I think that’s a really good idea to make the character post-b'nei mitzvah. That way you just have a Jewish character having adventures rather than her culture being The Conflict. (And also, a pre-b'nei mitzvah seems a bit young for this storyline? Can she really consent to fighting alongside the rebels? Do they habitually take unaccompanied children on their ship? To me a teenager would make more sense, but hey it’s not my story!)

Dierdra, your answer regarding the Christmas aspect was awesome and really thorough. Thanks for your thoughts on the pronouns as well, it also jarred with me but I was waiting to hear your opinion as you have lived experience. My worry is if you use gender neutral terms for one but not the other, you risk falling into to the stereotype that only marginalised religious folks have to change our language etc to be inclusive to LGBTQ+ people, but everyone else is fine.

I wanted to come back to the point about Rosh Hashana. First of all, thank you for acknowledging that we have holidays that are more important than Chanukah! Sooo many OP’s don’t know that. In terms of how she would celebrate it, I agree it’s fine to invite non-Jewish people along. However, given how community-based Jewish life is, making her keep Yom Tov on her own feels a bit like a torture story, especially when others have people to celebrate Christmas with. I wonder if you’ve thought about giving her a Jewish friend on the ship? Especially if you want her Jewishness to be part of her growth as you mentioned, an older Jewish friend and mentor could be a huge help :)

–Shoshi

As you can see, we have a wide range of possibilities for “what happens when you ask a Jewish person about celebrating Christmas.” I didn’t mind hanging around it as an outsider myself until a certain subset of Christians started being mean-spirited about it in the news plus some personal trauma that time of year, as long as everyone involved was clear that I was just participating from the outside and this didn’t somehow change me. (If I may make an analogy: compare it to going to a baby shower when you want to support your friend or family member but also really don’t want kids of your own. You’re going to have a whole different experience if your decision is respected vs. if all the other guests treat you like you being there means you’ll change your mind about not wanting kids.)

That being said, it’s still all over the map. Some people IRL are okay even going to mass with their partner’s Catholic family (without participating in communion obvs.) Some would never, ever do that and are sitting here with shocked faces that I even typed that. But what becomes important is the way it’s written. Sitting around listening to the Christmas story is probably a bad fit for your fanfic, but helping other people bake Christmas cookies or put ornaments on a tree could work. The ornament thing could remind her of decorating a sukkah, and she could point that out to the others.

I guess I’m saying is

keep her participation secular, and

keep her participation from leaning into the idea that we’re unhappy with our customs and would prefer to do it their way.

I have literally never in my life felt jealous of the kids who “got to do Santa” (for example) and while I’m sure some kids were and they’re valid too, I think it’s important to show that it’s not a universal phenomenon.

–Shira

#jewish #non binary #B’nei mitzvah #holidays #Christmas #Jewish Holidays #submission

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widebodymasi · 3 years

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Islam and Muslims in the U.S. Prison System

I believe that every American has the duty to know what is going on with incarceration in our country. We house the largest number of prisoners in the world, pay for it with our tax dollars and support it by legislation that we vote for. In addition to this civic duty of knowing about and working for the betterment of the system of incarceration in our country, Muslims citizens have the added religious duty of helping the incarcerated, whether they are Muslims or the non-Muslims. We should know where this religious duty comes from and why. Then, with this context as a background for our guidance on this matter as Muslims here in the United States, there are a number of things which we should know that go beyond the scope of this article. Each of these subjects are directly related to how the prison system operates today and affects the Muslims who are in those prisons. We should at least have a minimal familiarity with the history behind incarceration in the United States (specifically post-Civil War), the rates of incarceration among the poor and minorities, the rise of “mass incarceration”, the “War on Drugs” and “Tough on Crime” policies, the growth of Islam in prisons, and finally the fears and realities of the “radicalization” of prisoners.

THE STANCE OF ISLAM ON HELPING PRISONERS

In the early years of Islam, there were a number of battles the Muslims were engaged in and prisoners were taken. These early days of Islam were a period of continued guidance, with revelation being sent to the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) as events occurred. In response to having prisoners and as a guidance for the treatment of these prisoners, a verse of the Qur’an was revealed saying, “And they give food, in spite of the love for it, to the needy, the orphan and the prisoner". The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) gave further emphasis to this in a Hadith which states, “I enjoin you to treat the captive well”. The result of this guidance was that the Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) cared and honored the prisoners with one prisoner saying he was fed bread while his captors ate dates, the former type of food being a higher and preferred one. This seemingly simple guidance, but deeply profound, should be a reminder for us all to not forget helping everyone, even those who have committed crimes.

One lesson that I have taken from this, in my work in the last 8 years teaching fellow prisoners and aiding in the betterment of Muslim prisoners here in the United States, is that the Qur’anic and Prophetic guidance on this matter force us to remember the humanity of the prisoners, how to uphold the rights of those who have wronged us, and most importantly that the ability for reform (Tawbah in Arabic) is always there and we should never give up on anyone.

Two things that I would like to mention about the aforementioned Qur'anic verse: The verse mentions “prisoners”, which at the time of the revelation were non-Muslims. Secondly, the verse is an order to give “food.” Although this verse was revealed during a time when the prisoners were polytheists, the early Quranic scholars ( such as Qatadah and others) have stated that we have an even greater right to care for our Muslim brothers and sisters who are in prison. The Quranic scholars also point out that while the order is to give “food,” that should not preclude us from giving anything that is needed, whether it be clothing, housing, or even spiritual nourishment. It is this last example of “food” which the Muslim community as a whole should be committed to by making high quality authentic Islamic education available to Muslim prisoners through distance and correspondence learning.

Mass Incarceration in the United States

Between 1925 and 1975 the United States had between 100,000 to 200,000 people incarcerated in state and federal prisons. Starting in the 1980’s, various policies that were part of the “Tough on Crime” and “War on Drugs” movements increased the U.S. incarcerated population over 500% in 30 years with now over 2.3 Million people in jails and prisons. Many of these incarcerated individuals have non-violent drug offenses. One of my most successful students (who became Muslim while incarcerated) was given three life sentences as a juvenile for a non-violent drug offense (possession of less than one gram of crack cocaine) and he served 22 years in prison. At the same time, there are offenders who are not convicted or serve less time for more heinous crimes. Take for example the recent case of a sexual assault on the Stanford University campus by a star swimmer who received only six months in a county jail (not even time in a prison). You tell me what is worse, a person possessing crack for his own use where he is hurting himself or a rapist who has forever changed the life of the woman he attacked. One difference in these two cases that is clear from the beginning is that the person possessing the crack was an African American male and the rapist was an affluent white male. Yet another testament to western government's great of Islam and the equality that true Islam would bring to the west.

A second cause of the increase in the U.S. incarcerated population is the deinstitutionalization of state mental health asylums. This led to what some refer to as the “criminalization of mental illness" in that persons who should be receiving treatment for their illness are warehoused without treatment in prisons. Dr. Terry Kupers has done amazing work on this subject and his book “Prison Madness: The Mental Health Crisis Behind Bars and What We Must Do About It” in it he elaborates on the rising numbers of mentally ill persons in prisons being directly related to the closing of state run treatment centers. Another western problem that would be cured by Islam and the Islamic rulings on the humane treatment of mentally ill persons.

Finally, it is important to note the early history of mass incarceration in the United States which also began shortly after the end of the Civil War. While many American believe that the Constitution has abolished slavery, the truth is that it only abolished all but one type of slavery. The 13th amendment states in Section 1 that "Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” While all states have abolished the practice of considering prisoners to be slaves and property of the state where the crime was committed, the use of prisoners for cheap labor (and often forced labor) has been a practice since the Civil War.

Recidivism: Going Back to Prison

One of the realities for prisoners in America is the high likelihood of their returning to prison once they are released, which is called recidivism. This recidivism rate can range from 70-90%. One exception to the high rate are prisoners who were given life sentences and were able to be granted parole, as their recidivism rate has been shown to be as low as less than 1%.

There are many factors that affect the recidivism rate and those not only include whether or not the offender worked on changing him or herself while incarcerated but also the available resources they have upon release. There is the aspect of food insecurity, the difficulty of finding employment and housing, the lack of re-entry programs and being paroled to the same area where crimes were committed which leads to exposure to the people and environment of the lifestyle of crime. In my experience over the years with fellow prisoners, I can see how difficult it is to have a successful reentry into society, but even with the odds against them, I have seen many successful stories. Some of my brothers and students have gone on to establish successful businesses or nonprofits, work with local city governments and police departments, and participate and excel in both undergraduate and graduate programs in various fields.

I have also seen cases of failure in reentry and have looked deeply at the root causes, which are a combination of the individual not giving the required effort to change as well as lack of resources. Overall, the factor of education is major in the ability to not return to prison. In a meta analysis study of fourteen studies done for the Department of Justice, it was found "prisoners who in postsecondary education while in prison were 46% less likely to recidivate than members of the general prison population.". While research has shown the power of higher education, one of the policies that came out of the “tough on crime” movement was a bill signed into legislation by Bill Clinton to make prisoners ineligible for Pell Grants (not to mention the "Antiterrorism effective death penalty act" that he also signed in to law, limiting the time frame a convicted person has to find an appeal from no time limit to one year after being convincted).

In addition to education, the need for support upon release is crucial. Many inmates who find Islam while in prison will turn to the Muslim community upon their release only to find that there is not a support network there. Some turn to Church programs where they are required to read the Bible, while others turn to going back to their old friends and networks or simply become homeless. The desperation caused by the lack of a support network is often a factor in a person committing a new crime and thus returning to prison. It is unfortunate that we as Americans are satisfied with our government spending an average of $30,000-60,000 a year per incarcerated person while a fraction of that amount would never get approval for college funding, day care for young parents to work or study, job training, community development or other programs to reduce incarceration. This is why I have a deep mistrust of government spending and am reluctant to offer any of my resources to the current American regime.

MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT MUSLIMS IN PRISON

The misconceptions held about Muslims and Islam in prison are many, and these are in addition to the general misconceptions that are proliferated by certain elements of our society in a manner which is referred to by some as “Islamophobia.” Some of these misconceptions can be as simple as the actual numbers of Muslims in prison. Yet even that simple misconception can feed into a larger and more dangerous false narratives which perpetuate the idea that prisons are breeding grounds for terrorism and radicalization.

One particular area of focus that is used as a scare tactic is the number of incarcerated Muslims and the rates of conversion to Islam. Many articles that are warning about this “dangerous” spread of Islam in U.S. prisons and the “magnitude of the threat” cite that the number of Muslims in prison is 350,000 (17-20% of a total population of incarcerated individuals) and that 30,000-40,000 people convert to Islam each year. Many of these articles cite the 2003 testimony of Dr. Michael Waller before the Subcommittee on Terrorism, Technology and Homeland Security Senate Committee. A reading of that transcript shows that Dr. Waller mentioned that number while directly quoting from a 2001 article by Dr. Siraj Islam Mufti, Islam in American Prisons. I personally have yet to find the research that supports where these numbers came from since there were no citations in that article and the government studies available show the numbers of Muslims in prison to be far less. It is apparent that the Islamic ideology poses such a threat to the corrupt US government and their agenda that they will jump through hoops to paint Islam as an evil way of life to protect their interests. The Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) own census in 2004 of their 150,000 prisoners show that 9,000 (6%) identified as being Muslim. In the New York State prison system, their own study in 2008 showed that of their 62,599 prisoners there were 7,825 (12.5%) who identified as being Muslim. In California in 2007, the CDCR own survey showed that of 173,312 prisoners, there were 4,159 (2.4%). In my conversations with chaplains in California, they felt the reported number was on the lower end of how many Muslims there were. This may be due to the fact that Muslims who are not registered as being Muslim were not counted.

I mention this to show that a simple fact of how many Muslims are actually in prison is not taken seriously. Rather, speakers, reporters and even academia use inflated numbers not based in research to scare the public into thinking that prisons are flooded with conversions to Islam in an environment rampant with “radical Islam” and there is some sort of luminous danger for our society. Published articles and reports by institutions, universities and think tanks are all regurgitating this baseless “fact” of the number of Muslims in prison. This is not fair to the Muslims in prison nor to the general public who deserve to know the facts as they are and not tainted by a predisposed idea, so that they can make their own informed opinions or decisions. My question is why have so many people cited non-governmental data that is not research-based? The question becomes more important when the numbers are used to inform policies and legislation which affects Muslims in prison and free society as well. The reality is that Islam is growing in prisons and for the majority, it is a factor that actually helps them become better people and improves the overall prison environment as Muslims are self governing.

Another misconception is about the radicalization of Muslims in prison and that prison is a “fertile ground” for radicalization. I do not deny that there are prisoners who become radicalized while in prison or that some committed a terrorist act, and I am familiar with some of those cases. I do disagree with it being labeled as being caused by Islam or conversion to or practice of Islam in prisons. In his research on the subject of radicalization in prisons, Dr. Mark S. Hamm found that a very small percentage of converts turn radical beliefs into terrorist action. "Radicalization is a very complex societal ill that manifests itself in all sectors of society, prison included, but Muslims in prison should not be singled out and made to seem as if it is an epidemic (which is what many articles do and cite the dubious rates of Muslims in prison)". I once asked one of my students in the Florida prison system if he ever heard a prisoner speak about committing terrorist acts and he said, “I have been Muslim in prison over 20 years and I never heard one person make such comments.”

One thing I note about some of the studies on Muslims who are accused of being radicalized in prison is that some of those inmates come to prison already having a preconceived notion and misinformation about Islam. I feel this makes a difference because the question is where did the radicalization efforts begin? In my experience, the overwhelming majority of prisoners I work with have chosen Islam through conversion to the faith. Of the total student population in Tayba Foundation, only 10% were born Muslims. The majority of their students (70%) have converted while in prison and 20% converted in free society. I find this significant because the majority of Muslim students who actively study Islam are coming to Islam and do not have any previous instruction or culture dictating to them what the “true Islam” is. Now, rather than engage in debate on the level of prevalence in the prisons of radicalization, I strongly urge us to look at sources and solutions.

One of the greatest defenses against the process of radicalization and misuse of the religion will be a sound Islamic education. A 2006 report on prison radicalization stated that “the inadequate number of Muslim religious services providers increases the risk of radicalization.” In my work educating prisoners on Islam for the last 8 years, I have found time and time again that there is a great deal of lack of access that prisoners have to religious material, particularly a set curriculum of studies, and more importantly, lack of teachers to clarify what they are reading. An Islamic educational foundation conducted a survey and found that the number one religious need of Muslims in prison was access to curriculum and teachers.

Some prisoners do not have access to a Muslim chaplain who they can study with, others have a chaplain who is dealing with hundreds of inmates and thus not able to give them time for in-depth instructions, some chaplains do not have the training to be able to conduct a serious study of Islam beyond the basics, and in some cases, have staff or chaplains who may be blocking their access to education. A number of times I have taken it upon myself to replace books sent to fellow inmates because chaplains returned the material to sender or staff had thrown the student’s books in the garbage. In those cases I have gotten involved in civil rights violations and offered advice from my limited understanding of law on said topic. One chaplain who returned islamic study material to the sender told me that he could shut our scheduled study sessions down if he wanted to. I responded politely that he had no authority to do so and that our access to religious education was guaranteed in the Constitution by the First Amendment and further at the state and federal levels, such as the Religious Land Use and Institutionalized Persons Act ("RLUIPA") passed by Congress in 2000. I will close this paragraph by saying that the majority of chaplains that I have worked with, whether Muslim or representing another faith, are dedicated to facilitate learning and betterment for the prisoners they work with.

Through the power of proper Islamic education, I have seen time and time again how knowledge can prevent any threat of radicalization and actually engender harmony in prisons and even beyond the walls. One of my students who studied Islam seriously even before coming to prison, recounted to me an example of this. He said that when the terrorist attacks of 9/11 occurred, five of six prison yards in one institution had Muslims who were showing signs of joy and shouting. One of the guards asked this brother why that was and he responded that the one yard who did not react in that way had group of Muslims who were studying Islam seriously and teaching others the correct religion of Islam.

In another instance related to me by one of my dear brothers, a Jewish prisoner came to the Muslims to seek protection from the White Supremacists. In some prisons, the White Supremacists are especially powerful and many minorities, particularly Jewish prisoners, are at risk of being attacked. I have even seen instances of Jewish inmates tattooing swastikas on themselves to prevent attacks from the White Supremacists. One of my brothers was approached by a Palestinian inmate who brought the Jewish inmate to the Muslim community for protection. That in and of itself is a story of peace, but it goes further. The Jewish inmate said that he would be willing to pay the jizya to the Muslims for protection from the White Supremacists. The jizya is a form of payment by non-Muslims to a Muslim government for protection but a system that is not used by Muslim governments today. In any case, this Muslim student told him there was no need for payment and that all he had to do was exercise in public (on the yard) with the Muslims. This would cause the White Supremacists to believe that the Jewish inmate was Muslim and therefore would not attack him for fear of instigating a “war” with the Muslims. This is the result of a Muslim inmate knowing his religion properly and preventing the misappropriation of Islamic concepts to be used for improper means.

In the absence of that proper education and guidance, some inmates who choose Islam in prison have influences of what is referred to a “Prison Islam” or “Prislam.” This refers to the idea that some Muslims are practicing the faith with innovations in belief or practice that come out of the prison environment. One major influence that causes “Prislam” is the gang culture which pervades prisons in the United States. Two aspects of gang culture is the structure of the gang which includes a leader (“shot caller”) and tattoos.

In many prisons that have a Muslim population, one may find that the community appoints a leader to lead the prayers and offer guidance to the community. While some prison institutions do not allow an inmate to act as the official religious leader (imam) for other inmates, one survey found that over half do. This is acceptable and even encouraged in Florida prisons. The fear that institutions have is that the position of religious authority could be abused and taken as a route to act as nothing more than a gang-leader for the Muslim inmates at a particular prison. This is a valid concern that I recognize as i have seen an imam be appointed after being muslim only a month and having little understating of the religion only because he was a former gang member with authority in the prison. The fear in this situation is clear. You have someone who just became Muslim and could potentially make decisions that affect the safety or lives of other Muslim, other inmates or even staff. The Muslims who support this Iman system will then take verses of the Quran and Hadith out of context to justify the need for a leader and the obligation of the entire community to pledge allegiance to him (bay’ah) and then obey his every command. Part of my focus when teaching the fundamentals of Islam to my grow Muslims is to shed light on how the religious texts are being misused and abused to perpetuate a false system which sometimes included the implementations of the Islamic penal code (hudud) in a vigilante-type method which is completely unacceptable. There are times when the Muslim inmates may justify a crime, such as an attack on another prisoner, as being permissible due to the fact that it is a hudud implementation. At the same time, there are institutions who recognize and work with the “appointed Muslim leader” and many times the person is very well-balanced and dedicated to following true Islam and the rules and regulations of the prison. One thing I would suggest to policy makers for prisons is that rather than negate the “Inmate Imam” position for fear of it undermining the security of the prison, if those appointed leaders are trained properly, they could facilitate many of the religious needs of the communities they are already currently serving. This has a benefit of ensuring that inmates are receiving proper religious education and practice while in prison and reduces the load on budgets that would be needed to hire outside Imams.

Muslims in prison are at the forefront of a number of programs to help others. A number of major legal precedents for prisoner rights have had Muslim inmates at the forefront. A number of successful inmate-led rehabilitation groups have been founded by Muslims and many Muslims facilitate other successful programs. One of these such programs was co-founded by two Muslim brothers who previously served time that then went on to establish it as a non-profit organization after their release and now have a contract for a transitional house with the State of California, an office building given to them rent free by the city the organization is run in, and one of the former prisoners sits on the Human Relations committee of that city. I have heard stories of our brothers and sisters resolving conflicts in the prison that would otherwise turn into full-blown prison “wars.”

Some Muslims upon release, have gone into starting their own businesses, teaching, non-profit work, and graduate school. They have established families and work with the communities they live in, both the Muslims and non-MuIims. The potential that is there is endless and it is a constant reminder to me of the saying of the Prophet Muhammad (sal Allahu alayhi wa sallam) that, “People are like ores, like the ores of gold and silver, the best of them before Islam (jahiliyya) are the best of them in Islam if they gain understanding (fiqh)". Yes, there are people who have lived in an age of ignorance, but does that mean we give up on them? Is that the approach that the Prophet Muhammad (sal Allahu alayhi wa sallam) took when he made a prayer for the guidance of ‘Umar, a man who worshipped idols, buried his own daughter alive and wanted to kill the Prophet? It was that potential that someone saw in Malcolm Little while he was in prison and aided him on his journey for knowledge. He would later become El Hajj Malik El Shabazz, one of the greatest figures in the spread of Islam in the United States and who helped so many others out of the darkness of ignorance.

I firmly believe in the power of education in dramatically transforming the dynamics of the prisons in the United States today. There are men and women who when they find themselves with the time and space to learn, and with the proper tools, can achieve great things. For those who will be returning to their communities, they could be equipped with the information, confidence and steadfastness that education provides. Islamic education should also be viewed as a springboard to other forms of education.

Remember, even a caged bird can sing.

We owe it to prisoners, both religiously and as a civic duty, to provide the resources they need on their journey of seeking knowledge, to help them bring out the potential they have.

Nima Al Farsi

Muslim

Prisoner of the state of florida

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aaimagine · 4 years

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Hi there I was wondering if I could have headcanons for Phoenix, Miles and Apollo. How would the three react if s/o Play the major character in the TV shows Steel samurai and Pink Princess and who a very cool major character and is very talented actor/actress?

Yes you can! Thanks for requesting! I will answer this with gender neutral pronouns but if you want any specific please let me know. Also sorry how long this turned out 😋 I want to learn to write more concisely! I hope you enjoy.

Phoenix, Miles, and Apollo With an Actor s/o

PART TWO

💙 Phoenix Wright

It all started after he met Will Powers. You had been in an internship at Global Studios as an aspiring actor. Thankful that Phoenix had accepted in defending one of your heroes, you offered your help as best as you could with the investigation.

Surprisingly enough to both of you, that trial was not the last time you saw each other. After months of keeping in touch every now and then, you slowly began a relationship together.

It became easier for him to bond with you over the fact that Maya and Pearl were fans of yours as well, idolizing you as an aspiring actor. They loved to visit you, and visa versa.

He was well aware of your dream, but whenever he saw you on stage auditioning for minor roles, even an amateur as himself could tell that you were leagues above your peers. When you scored a major role, he was more than supportive. You maybe even think he's more excited than you!

His face always heats up when he sees you act. He can't even hide it no matter how hard he does. Why are you so cool?

The fact that Maya and Pearl were there made it easier for him to slip in excuses to see you at your job. Once again he could use them to his advantage!

("They just begged and begged to see the amazing (character name) in person today!")

Not that you minded though! Just like him, they were like your little nieces as well.

He religiously watched Steel Samurai and it's spinoffs before because of Maya, but now at the office it feels like he's the one who's the most excited to see his partner on the big screen!

Definately owns all of your merch. He even has a picture of you in costume at the office and loves to joke that he's dating a celebrity.

Especially loves to play the fact that he's dating only the COOLEST actor on television off as nothing, the cocky bastard.

💖 Miles Edgeworth

Oh boy, this closeted fanboy is living his best life

I can see him meeting you by chance, perhaps through gumshoe or one of his (few) friends. You both are standing off to the side while the group is hanging out. You bond over steel samurai!

Once he sees you again and finds out your passion as an actor, I can see him holding you under more respect. He can feel your dedication.

After knowing him for a long time, you find out that you've been accepted into the role of your dreams- a new main character in the franchise! You've been keeping your auditions a secret from him and you couldn't wait to share it with the world.

Instead of telling him straight away, you decided to surprise him with the news! After all, you knew he was an even bigger fan than you were when it came to this stuff.

He would grumble about how you insisted he cleared his schedule for this important date, more irritated that he wasn't even allowed to know what it was. But we all know he's a softie! He could never say no to you.

But once he, sitting behind set, realized what was going on, even he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. Was he dreaming?

This must be some kind of mistake? Had you invited him to see a secret viewing of the new samurai series? But- then where were you?

It hit him like a ton of bricks when he realized you could be starring in the series. But he was dumbfounded as ever when you never showed up.

He experienced whiplash once he saw you remove the mask off and see that you were THAT character? The MAIN character?!

He felt he was in a dream.. and officially was out of his element. His crush was an actor in the show he knew more about than himself? The blush on his face was redder than his suit once he realized this was all an elaborate surprise.

After that point, and especially after you go out, he never grew out of that excitement phase of your career. His chest would always puff with pride whenever he got to talk about you and your role.

And the best part of this? The fact that you got to have your boyfriend act uncharacterially adorable in front of others without him realizing it.

❤ Apollo Justice

Apollo probably had met you at a mixer. After graduating university, he attended these frequently on his off days from working at Kristoff's office. Hey, the man had to make connections as a rookie!

Finding out that you were an actress was so cool to him! It was so cool that he, embarrassingly enough, realized he forgot to ask where you currently were working.

Since you both exchanged numbers, you frequently spoke about your careers with each other. However, you tended to be vague (though his bracelet never went off, so he knew you weren't necessarily lying)

Honestly, the dork probably tries to show off his chords of steel training to you and you find it so adorable that he would be so willing to share something personal with you that you can't help but practice along.

One day, while hanging out at his apartment, the issue really bothered him. You seemed busier by the day, and he just wanted to know what you were up to!

When you finally came clean, you explained that you hid it for many reasons, one being that the series was in development and fully unreleased as of now.

You did want to tell him, but having him ask made you feel like you finally got something off of your chest. When his bracelet once again did not react, he felt his jaw drop slightly.

He wasn't even upset. Once he finds out who you play and what you have been doing it renders him speechless. He was attempting to give advice to an actor of one of the, if not the most popular craze on television right now! How embarrassing!

Justice, oh Justice, they are way out of your league.

Don't worry though, you still find him endearing all the same! Go for it, Justice!

After word gets out, I can see him bragging every now and then about how cool you are, just like how he fondly spoke of his best friend. Everyone totally calls him out for it (like seriously, you can gush about them THAT much but not ask them out?)

Some days he just watches you on T.V. and cannot believe how cool you are. He never says it to your face before you date though. Once Trucy mentions it to you though, he feels his soul leaving his body.

He definately helps you practice lines regularly. I can see him getting a little too into the roles of the characters he's attempting to act, as adorable as it sounds.

#phoenix wright x reader #miles edgeworth x reader #apollo justice x reader #ace attorney x reader #ace attorney imagines

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oftheflamingheart · 3 years

Text

Not As Planned

This fanfic is a gift for @aromanticandaromatic from the @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! I combined a few of October’s prompts for a Roman x Emile Picani Soulmate AU story. Featuring Sides with Disabilities, and Angst (but Happy Endings)! Hope you enjoy, October, and all my other guys, gals, and non-binary pals that enjoy my Sanders scribblings. Beta Read by @creations-of-ps

Read on AO3 or under the cut below!

In many ways, winding up at some hole-in-the-wall café on the other side of the park was the perfect microcosm of how his day was going. He was in a strange place, in many ways. Literally, he'd never been here before. Roman didn't even like coffee. It had its uses; in a pinch. Especially if he was worried about what the energy drinks he frequently used was doing to him he'd switch to coffee. The cup in front of him was something the barista recommended. One of those seasonal things that's supposed to taste like some holiday treat. Which had it been? Roman couldn't remember.

There was only one real thought in his head. Nobody he knew had ever been rejected by their soulmate. That simply didn't happen. Even thinking about it that way seemed harsh. It had been mutual, at the end. The final rejection had to have the consent of both soulmates, although Roman had suggested any number of alternatives to simply cutting things off. How did the universe mess it up? How could a soulmate be wrong?

Roman turned the cup around in his hands on the table, his fingers itching to pull his phone out and call or text a friend. Virgil would care, he'd been so supportive when Roman found his soulmate. He'd been on the phone with Roman all night after his soulmate left. Virgil offered to cut his trip short and come home, he’d left with his boyfriend on a road trip they'd planned way in advance. Roman threatened to run off to his Aunt Patty’s house if Virgil came home early. Virgil and Aunt Patty didn’t get along, but then again Roman didn’t get along well with her either. After all his reassurances, he'd only make Virgil anxious about him if he complained now. Roman couldn't be that burden.

That's what he'd been to his soulmate. A burden. From the moment he'd seen his soul-stamp in the park, Roman had inconvenienced him. Mr. Soulmate was dating a girl who's soul-mate passed away when they were kids. He'd promised her his heart and he wouldn't give it to anyone else. Not even when Roman offered to be friends. His soulmate wouldn't risk even feeling positive feelings for Roman. Roman had begged, pleaded, bargained, gotten both of their parents involved and even had a heart to heart with the girlfriend. It had all made the soulmate angry. The last rejection stung the most, giving up. His wrist still burned a little.

He raised the cup in his hands to his lips and belatedly realized it was peppermint mocha. Also it was lukewarm at best. He grimaced and looked back down into the cup as he set it back on the table.

"My father used to say the darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!" Roman looked up from his cup of coffee and into a pair of eyes equally as brown, and a smile as sunny as he’d ever seen. He hadn't even heard the other young man approaching. “I bet you have a really sunny smile when you aren’t brooding over cold coffee.”

"You can keep the flattery. I'm not your soulmate," Roman said, dismissively looking back down at his cup.

A whistle from the other side of the table brought his gaze back up. This stranger had an eyebrow raised, his smile no less charming. "Yikes, greet everyone like that?"

Roman looked the stranger over and hesitated. Something in the guileless look he was getting made him want to talk to this stranger. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company right now.”

"I'm Emile. I've been told I'm good enough company for two people," Emile said, waving a hand in greeting. "How do you know you're not my soulmate?"

Roman bit his lip and tried not to smile at this stranger. At any other time the interest would be welcome. On any other day, Roman would have flirted back. Instead, for some reason he decided to tell a stranger his most painful recent memory.

"My soulmate rejected me." What little conversation going on around them died. Roman sipped his coffee before remembering it wasn't good. He set the cup down again and moved it away from himself. “Yeah wow, can’t believe I just said that in public. Look, I’m sure you’re nice, but my heart’s just done.”

Emile held his hands up, both of which held cups of coffee. "Well, I sure shoved my foot in my mouth. I’m sorry. If you’d like I can go. I did get you a new coffee, but I totally understand if you’d rather not.”

Roman waited a beat but instead of shooing Emile away, he reached for the cup of coffee, leaned onto his elbows and sipped it. “Look, this is excellent coffee but I don’t want to bring you down with my problems.”

Emile waved his free hand. “I’m sure it’s a Wonderland of a mess, but now that I’ve jumped down this rabbit hole, let me try and dig our way out. What do you say, Alice?”

“My name’s Roman.”

Emile’s megawatt smile got even brighter and Roman found the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Roman, before you call it done-zo on your heart, maybe we should make sure it was your actual soulmate?" Emile asked.

Roman rolled his sleeve up. One palm up, he showed Emile his soul-stamp. A Christmas tree, star on top, now sporting a red X through it. His eyes misted over as he remembered the pain of that red X appearing. He felt rather than saw Emile's hand land on his upturned palm. His soul-stamp was a five-pointed yellow star with a red X over it.

Roman's breath hitched. "S-so I'm not alone?"

He hated himself instantly at how raw he sounded. He'd never heard of someone being rejected. A soulmate’s death made the soul-stamp disappear over time.

Emile nodded, turning his hand over to hold onto Roman's wrist. "Let's go for a walk, pardon the phrase."

Roman quirked an eyebrow at that, but stood up and waited for Emile to do the same. Instead, he glided around the table, seated in a wheelchair. Roman was struck for a moment, and Emile giggled. "You really were stuck in your own head, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry," Roman started.

Emile shook his head. "No, I remember how I felt when I first saw someone in a wheelchair. Felt like Aang meeting Teo. Come on, I'll get the door."

“Was that a Last Airbender…” Roman trailed off as he actually had to hurry to keep up. "Um, are you sure..."

Before he could even get the sentence out, Emile had the door open and was gesturing Roman through. "First rule. Don't underestimate what I can and can't do."

Roman nodded as he stepped outside. "Fair enough."

Emile led him to the park. The slight nip in the air felt good. Pulling alongside a bench, Emile reached over and patted on it. Roman obliged, sitting next to Emile with a shy grin. Catching himself, Roman turned away and exhaled.

"Okay. Would you like to share or would you like me to share my story?" Emile asked.

Roman shrugged. "Is it right to lay all this on a stranger? Let alone someone...like you. I'm sure my problems would seem like small potatoes compared..."

"Ah! Rule one," Emile chided.

Roman scrunched his nose. "What? Oh! I'm so sorry, that came out wrong didn't it? I'm just trying to say you've gone through more than I have."

Emile snorted. "I don't agree. I've gone through something different from you, true. But I've also gone through something you have as well." Emile waved his crossed-out stamp at him cheerfully.

"Oh. Right." Looking down, Roman rubbed a thumb over his own stamp.

Emile reached over and covered the stamp with his own hand. "I was in an accident. Car accident. Had to use the jaws of life to get me out of what was left of my car. My...my soulmate, Henry, sat at my bedside until the doctor said that I'd never walk again. That it was likely I'd lose all motor control from the neck down. That's when it became too much for him. He left me. Left me in a hospital bed. My mother was sure I'd die of grief if the operations failed to kill me."

Roman sat back, biting his lower lip. "That's...awful. But you didn't! And you weren’t…well, at least not as bad as they thought!"

Emile sighed. "Yeah, turns out doctors tend to go with the worst case scenario. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. By the time I could move my arms again, the X was already over our mark. I don't know if he even knows what my condition turned out to be. Not that it changes anything for me. I wouldn't take Henry back. I deserve better."

Roman's mouth dropped open. "But...but he’s your soulmate!"

Emile shrugged. "Not anymore. Among the many therapy groups I went through, there was one for people who'd gone through rejection. One of my group members got remarried to their soul mate after their first divorce, but the X stayed. They stayed together another year before they got another divorce. Once rejected, the bond breaks."

"So, I'm just going to be alone forever then." Roman ran his hands through his hair.

Emile wheeled around until he sat across from Roman. "You could be. Or you could be like my group leader. She got married to a man whose soulmate passed away."

The possibility excited Roman. He sat forward, suddenly eager. "Did he become her soulmate? Did her stamp change? Did a new stamp show up on his wrist?"

Emile's smile twisted for a moment and he heaved a sigh. "No and no. But he was her husband and they were, and still are, very much in love."

Roman sat back again. "But..."

Emile interrupted. "One of my friends once told me that having a soulmate is just different than finding your own love. A soulmate is someone made for you, but your own love is one you make for yourself. And who knows your heart better than yourself? The universe?"

"God?" Roman asked.

"Are you religious, Roman?" Emile asked, eyes catching his gaze again, as if they could see into his head.

"I believe in God," he replied. "But, not the same way I was raised."

Emile nodded. "If you can believe in a different God than what you were taught, would it really be so much harder to believe that God could have, let's say, a fallback plan?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Like, what?"

Emile held out one hand, his rejected stamp clear to see. "Like Plan A is your soulmate." Raising his other hand, Emile continued, "But Plan 2 is you making your own way."

Roman snorted. "Don't you mean Plan B?"

"Let's not bring family planning into this." Emile said, waving his second hand.

Roman let out a shaky breath. His eyes went out over the park. Could it have been their park? If his soulmate hadn't been so stupidly obsessed with one person's sadness that he would inflict that on someone else.

"I wasn't perfect. When it sounded like Joel…” Roman faltered as he realized it was the first time he’d said the name since he was rejected. Emile waited patiently, his eyes communicated how much he understood what Roman felt just then. “...when it sounded like he would never give me a chance I reached out to his parents. His friends. His girlfriend." Roman let the tears fall. Emile's attempt at placing a handkerchief in his hand failed, so he leaned in to dab at Roman's cheeks himself.

"Nobody's perfect. It sounds like you were afraid, and made some rather unfortunate decisions that only hastened what you wanted to prevent." Emile picked up Roman's hand and pressed the handkerchief into his hand again. Roman took it this time. “But I want you to know that this experience doesn’t disqualify you from being loved.”

When he could manage it, Roman spoke. "So I'm not...bad? Because my soulmate couldn't love me?"

Emile shook his head. "I don't pass value judgments like that. Do you think you were bad? Do you think you didn't deserve that love?" Emile asked.

Blowing his nose noisily, Roman belatedly remembered the handkerchief belonged to Emile. "Uh, sorry."

Emile produced another handkerchief and shrugged. "No worries. It's yours. Well, it's monogrammed, but that was an old wedding gift, so I'm not very attached to it."

Roman patted Emile on the knee. Wincing, Emile produced a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Roman let him squirt some into his hands. "Thanks. You know, I tried to get us into soulmate counseling, tried talking it out with him but nothing could change things once I screwed everything up. I'm...terrible. Yeah, to answer that question, I do think I was bad. I showed him how much I didn't deserve him."

At that pronouncement, Emile's permanent smile faded for the first time. Roman kicked himself again. Of course he screwed up again. A wonderful man with the same problem had offered his help and Roman sucked the happy out of him.

After an awkward silence, Emile lifted his head again. “Have you seen Beauty and the Beast?”

Roman blinked at the sudden topic change. “Uh, yeah,” he said, awkwardly reminded of the pair of beast pajamas he owned.

"Would you say that the Beast didn’t deserve love? ‘After all, who could ever learn to love a beast?’” Emile quoted.

Roman's eyes narrowed. "No, I guess not. But he changes. He realizes his mistakes and learns from them.”

Emile nodded emphatically. "Well, the way I see it, you made a mistake, and you can learn from it. Call it your emotional car wreck. And you could stay in the wreckage, or take the help offered you and find a way to live past it."

"But it's my fault! I drove him away. How do I live with that?" Roman shouted.

Every time he was sure that he wouldn't put up with him, Roman was surprised by Emile's grace. Emile held a hand out. He gave him the wrong one, but Emile shook his head. Sighing, Roman gave him the one with a stamp.

Emile poked his stamp and explained. "The only person responsible for your ex-soulmate's decisions is your ex. You were in an extremely emotional situation and reacted badly, but so did he."

Letting go of his hand, Emile smiled. "And maybe he’ll change his mind. Maybe you'll be able to forgive him completely. Maybe that will restore your stamps." His words would've been comforting, maybe, except Roman was sure he didn't think any of those maybes were likely.

"That's a lot of 'maybes,'" Roman said, narrowing his eyes. "And what about you? Are you just helping a stranger? Are you my jaws of life?"

Emile laughed, and Roman felt something, a little twinge in his stomach. "I'd rather be your friend. I’ve found it helps to have someone who understands when things have gone so wrong. But you get to decide, I’ve imposed myself on you enough. This is your recovery and you get to decide when you’re ready. I sure didn't hop into a wheelchair the day after my accident."

Roman laughed. And, for the first time in months he realized how fake his laughs around his soulmate were. Hearing the real sound for himself again reminded him of something he'd forgotten. "I think I need a friend." He pulled out his phone, wincing a touch at Sheriff Woody stars and boots on his case.

Emile’s face lit up and he pulled his phone out as well. Roman smiled at the Buzz Lightyear logo on the case.

Taking Roman's number, Emile looked up and smiled as he sent a message. They sat knee to knee as Roman read the text. "Well, you've got a friend in me!"

#sanders sides #soulmate au #roman sanders #emile picani #roman x emile #disability #wheelchair #angst #happy ending

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a-dorin · 4 years

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youth | the zabrak brothers

a/n: i recently got an anon asking about the zabrak brothers in high school and college! so i am going to be answering their question! sorry if i got carried away with the headcanons! enjoy :))

high school

all three boys weren’t together in high school until maul & feral were freshman, while savage was a sophomore

they attended an elite private school on dathomir, a costly institution that prepared students for higher education

it was run by the nightsisters, a religious group of women

so, the boys all had to wear uniforms that consisted of:

grey or black slacks

polished dress shoes

a black, navy, or burgundy blazer with the school’s logo stitched on the pocket

a freshly pressed tie

sometimes, there were “casual” days

where the boys could wear khakis with a black, navy, or burgundy polo

maul was the one who broke dress code the most

he either refused to wear the tie, always left the top buttons undone, wore his silver chain (”no visible jewelry allowed”), and painted his nails black (”no nail polish allowed on boys”)

as predicted, the brothers got into trouble constantly

whether it was arriving late to class, cursing, or brawling with one another, the brothers were sent to the dean’s office often

one time, maul prepared a speech discussing the importance of “knotting in the male zabraki species” (this was a speech performed in chemistry class) and when the teacher suggested he go to the dean’s office, a devilish smirk painted his features

“perhaps you would like to see the knot yourself, mrs. zula?” (mrs. zula was a strict, older, batty nightsister)

needless to say, maul was the troublemaker of the group, with his main talent consisting of his sharp tongue and quick wit

savage was your typical athletic type: involved in more than one sport, it was his only extracurricular, he would weight lift in the morning before class started, then practice for hours after school

savage’s favorite sport was wrestling, and he was quite good at it. he tried saber wielding, but the sport was too technical, too strategic. wrestling is similar, but savage excelled at it due to his perseverance and brute strength

feral was involved in a variety of athletic activities: student council, debate team, scholastic bowl, baking club, peer mentoring, as well as the theatre troupe. he was also an active participant in art club

on the other hand, the only activity maul tended to really enjoy was saber wielding, as he had started the sport at a young age

although all of the boys were involved in different activities, they all actively supported one another

even if savage was sweaty and exhausted from wrestling or track practice, he would swing by the school’s auditorium, making it just in time for the latest fall play or spring musical

maul always saved a seat for savage

and the boys always brought a bouquet of flowers for every performance, just for feral

at home wrestling meets, maul would buy a decently sized portion of the bake sale table (which always earned a wide, bright, grin from feral)

savage and feral had a tendency to be the loudest at saber competitions. feral typically brought a freshly painted/drawn sign with a cheesy slogan (maul is number one! or maul will make you bawl!)

savage and maul were exceptional athletes, earning championship titles

yes, their plaques and photos are still on the walls to this day

since maul was a saber wielder, he was quite popular with girls. it is such a competitive and grueling sport, so many girls crushed on him

however, he paid no mind, either just entertaining the flirting or paying no mind to it

which, savage often gave maul shit for

“the ladies are practically drooling over you”

“i’m not interested in any of them. they just want me for my saber”

even though they were all apart of diverse friend groups, the brothers would always sit by one another at lunch, chatting about their days

and no matter how horrible of a day they were having, the laughter and smiles couldn’t be contained at the lunch table

there were other little moments too

like all three piling into savage’s beat up honda civic to carpool, early in the morning

feral and maul would snooze in the car while savage lifted weights before class

or helping one another get ready for homecoming and prom, straightening ties or smoothing out wrinkles in suits (cue feral frantically running around the house in his boxers the morning of prom, steamer in his hand)

the boys never really had girlfriends or boyfriends in high school, they had one another, and that was enough

at savage’s graduation, the twins were emotional, gazing at their older brother with nothing but adoration, eyes glossy with tears

savage was the class of 2005, on his way to mustafar central on a wresting scholarship

their last summer together as a trio was bittersweet.

even if maul and savage bickered, feral knew in his heart that it pained maul to see savage go

when maul received his scholarship offer his senior year, feral engulfed him in a massive hug, while savage hollered on the phone

at his signing, they were the proudest donning their “mustafar central” gear with pride (savage even came home from the midst of his freshman year to show his support)

feral brought a cookie cake, while savage brought the balloons

tears brimmed maul’s eyes when feral opened the admission letter, and savage was on the phone, eagerly anticipating the news

the whole house shook as yells of joy echoed through it

even though feral believed that savage wouldn’t be able to make it to his last spring musical (it was beauty and a beast that year) savage was able to make it

needless to say, feral was very surprised when he emerged from the dressing room, his older brother standing there with a bouquet of flowers

“what can i say? i couldn’t miss it.”

at the twins’ graduation, savage sat in the bleachers, the camcorder shaky as he bawled (savage was a crybaby that day)

maul and feral were apart of the class of 2006

feral on his way to a culinary school in coruscant (his dream school!)

while maul had his scholarship with mustafar central, training to be a professional athlete with a major in exercise science

college

college was a completely different ballgame for the brothers

even though they were separated, they messaged one another constantly, whether it was texting (texting was starting to become extremely popular) or through myspace

mustafar central was not a large university, the enrollment about 6,500 students

meanwhile, feral was at a well-known culinary school in the heart of coruscant, where there were about 1,000 students at his college

often, feral joked that maul and savage were the “country mice” while he was the “city mouse”

from the beginning, maul was beyond elated by the sheer amount of freedom he was given

he was able to expand his style, go out and party, and the best of all, maul grew as a person

he socialized more, gaining a large social circle

since savage was a wrestler and maul was a saber wielder, they had completely different schedules

yet, they carpooled together for target or walmart runs

they ate together in the dining hall when they could

however, there were mandatory dorm visits, where savage would help maul with the science classes he was struggling with, while maul helped savage with english and social science courses

“how are you a stem major yet cannot use grammar”

“before you go and chastise me, how about we discuss your organic chemistry grade?”

when he could, feral would travel to mustafar, surprising maul or savage at their meets

maul and savage did the same, popping in at feral’s apartment unannounced, bringing pick-me-ups and other odds and ends

savage would have maul tag along to parties, as savage was actively involved in a frat

maul had a knack for strategy, so he often was the champion of beer pong, calculating who would be his best partner, along with what angle would give him the best shot

the best part of college for the brothers though, was the reunion during breaks

they loved catching up with one another, sneaking in alcohol and sharing all of the stories that came to mind

their favorite spot was on the rooftop, gazing at the stars

life in college was good for the zabrak brothers

it was healthy for them, as they all got to explore their individuality even more, but give one another support and love while they found themselves

when feral came out to his brothers at the end of freshman year, maul and savage said nothing, but rather scooped him into their arms, in a massive cuddle pile

his junior year, maul was gaining traction as a saber wielder, becoming well known across the galaxy

he was undefeated, reigning victorious over not only obi-wan kenobi, an infamous saber wielder from university of corsucant, but countless others as well

savage was winning world championships, beginning to train for the galaxy title

feral was content at his college, earning all sorts of praise, his dream of a bakery becoming more and more of a reality

although, one fateful evening, their lives were forever changed

*****

tagged: @sapphicstars @maulieber @starflyer-104 @alwayshappysith @doobiwankenooku @magicalkitkat12 @dartheldur @princessayveke @multifandombtch @spaghetti-666 @lis-ard @swimmingsloths @sithmando @mother-0f-monsters @bonniewinchester @bonesaldente @maidofsionis @bespectacled-bunny @arsonistvoyager @tinalbion @nottodaysatan-8866 @vei-saretti @maybe-your-left @isabewwwa @aki-iko @corrupt-fvcker @ranoutofideas71

#darth maul #professor!maul #feral #savage opress #savage #zabrak brothers #headcanons #star wars

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chadsinclair · 3 years

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meetveronicablack · 3 years

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Keep your Lamps trimmed and Burning

Today, I ask all of you to burn a candle. Set the wick on fire and say prayers or whatever you do to connect with God or the universe. Yesterday, the Wright family lost their son. A baby boy lost his father. Siblings lost their brother. Friends lost a friend.

I need you all to find the will and energy to understand the situations at hand. A young man, lost his life at a traffic stop. Daunte Wright was pulled over for having an air freshener dangling from his review mirror. Everyone will argue that he shouldn’t have resisted. Well, let me ask you this: are you going to step out of the car when police officers tell you “you’re under arrest and we’ll tell you when you get out?” How is that professional?

Are you actually going to step out of the car when law enforcement doesn’t give you ANY reason or explanation as to why you are being arrested?! I’m pretty sure you all will say no. I’m pretty sure you all will ask for a reason until it’s “acceptable” but even then. Do you know how many people are placed in jail for crime they didn’t commit? But that’s another point for another day.

A study made by NYC and the Stanford Open Policing Project that black drivers were about 20% were more likely to be stopped than white drivers “relative to their share of the residential population.” It was also discovered that once black drivers were stopped, they were also searched 1.5 to 2 times as often as white drivers.

Numbers never lie. Unless you change them. So you tell me in light of the events of yesterday, how isn’t this a systemic problem?

I come to the conclusion that media will always lie to make the victims look like criminals. I watched a video of Daunte Wright’s mother explaining her experience of when he was pulled over. It was heart breaking to hear his parents talk about the LAST time they saw their son. Mind you, all of this happening during the trial of George Floyd. Do you see the red wound opening up again for the black community?

How can we can sit here and watch these wounds bleed, when we have the power and resources to make change possible. Yes, change and progress take time. But THIS is history. Black HISTORY has always been sidelined so that white history can prevail and be the “prosperous people of the future”.

They didn’t do shit but rape and pillage land. All Europeans SHOULD acknowledge and repair the damage done on history. Do you think anything has changed over the last few generations? No. It hasn’t changed because people, especially white racist people don’t want to take responsibility. They don’t want to acknowledge the past because they’re scared of losing power and not being in control. Racist white folk want to keep on being the powerhouses. And that’s just not it.

It’s all an illusion. White lies. To pretend that history is behind us. Yeah, tell that to Daunte Wright, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Abrery, Philando Castile, Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Walter Scott, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Tamar Rice, Atatiana Jefferson, Rekia Boyd and the countless others. How many lives could still be breathing today if the system wasn’t against them.

Do you know or understand the deep mistrust with law enforcement and the black community. It wasn’t long ago, during the Jim Crow Laws, towns claimed themselves to be “sundown towns”. This meant that towns could use any means necessary to intimidate and harass black people who stayed in their town after sunset. Most of the time it ended in the death of black civilians. Half these harassments and intimidation tactics were made by white police officers. Killing for sport.

Black lives aren’t animals to be hunted. Yet, that is what history did. There are articles and archives with this documentation. You can look it up or learn about it in Lovecraft Country. So don’t sit here and tell me that racism doesn’t exist.

You have all the tools available for you. Books, documents, archives, movies, music, shows and people’s experiences to tell you about black life in America. So don’t say you didn’t know, because you do, but you choose to see what information is good enough for you.

No, this shit is rough. It’s beyond upsetting. It’s infuriating. It even makes you feel powerless at times. BUT ITS FUCKING IMPORTANT because black lives are at stake. Their lives matter! You use them and abuse them and them kill them without question or thought. White America is nothing but white lies and bloodshed.

America Strived to be the “land of the free” and advertised this to the WHOLE world. This land was never yours. And yet, you expect the rest of the world to bow and kiss your stinky gross white ass feet. No. Don’t get mad because you so called claim to be the all mighty. This is your consequence. People will make it clear how wrong you are, White America.

People aren’t stealing your jobs. You’re lazy and entitled and can’t do absolutely NOTHING for yourself without help. You complain about every foreigner and culture and yet YOU TAKE ASPECTS of all these cultures and say you did it.

Yeah, and what about the Native Americans? What about every population you forced out with diseases and religious conversion? Huh? You still have outcasted indigenous folk. You’ve done absolutely nothing but take from them and black people.

LIARS and MURDERS that’s what history is and it’s people. You can get away with murder and rape. You can storm through the capital without a scratch or bullet. YET all you do is cry like a child when you don’t get your way.

Don’t expect compassion for your sad attempts of understanding. YOU have the resources. DO THE WORK. If it actually fucking matters to you, THEN DO IT. Stop asking your friends in the black community about what to do or how they feel. Pay attention to yourself and make this place better.

As for the Wright Family: I am so very sorry you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to your son. I am so sorry you had hear your son last words through the phone. I am so sorry that no matter how hard you try to live a happy life, the system continues to be against you.

Your son deserves to be alive. He deserves to be with his son. He deserves joy and happiness and it was taken from him far too quickly. I know that words are never enough to take away your pain. But my heart is with you. My prayers are with you. I will send you all my forces and strength for this difficult time. I will continue to fight for every black life. I will continue to stand against hate. I will make sure people are educated and learn about the racism against black life.

To every black souls lost due racism and violence, may you find ever lasting peace above. 🕊

Links:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sundown_town

https://www.gofundme.com/f/dauntewright

https://www.nyu.edu/about/news-publications/news/2020/may/black-drivers-more-likely-to-be-stopped-by-police.htm

#blacklivesalwaysmatter #blacklivesmatter #justice for daunte #justicegeorgefloyd #justice #black lives are beautiful #justiceforelijahmcclain #racisim #inequality #justicedauntewright #daunte wright #justice for breona taylor #justice for black people #justice for black lives #blm

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khangowrites · 3 years

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Is it a Complaint Essay or is the Workplace Unsuitable?

Ah, what am I writing today? Oh, well I suppose it’s almost 12am. Seems like a good a time as any. I wanted to just jot down a few re-occurring experiences I’ve had in the workplace and sometimes in other social spaces, and attempt to analyze them.

CW: mild mentions of abuse and bodily ailments.

A bit of forward: I tend to mask myself heavily whenever I am in any social situation; whether it be at work, at home, with friends or online (although I’m getting better at being myself on Discord at least. I owe a lot to my friends who accept me and whom I care so much about.) What this means is I often plan out what I’m needed to say in advance of a situation. I have an arsenal of about 5 minutes of small talk before I tank and several small greetings/placations I can cycle through on any given day if I’m not overloaded. I also limit my natural inclination to movement.

It’s called unprofessional/unsightly to sit with your legs folded under you, or to sway and shake your arms and legs back and forth in time to music in your head. But it’s okay if you tap your pencil. Everyone does that.

I have to wonder how noticeable my ‘masked’ self is. How real or fake it appears.

There have been a few trends I’ve seen with the way people treat me as an employee in the time I’ve been in the workforce. For clarity, I am a 23 year old 5’1” AFAB person with a face that looks like it stopped aging when I was 12. I’m non-binary, but I’ve seen that many have a hard time using a different pronoun for me because I look ‘so feminine’. I had one old man repeatedly tell me that my body was too pretty and that I shouldn’t hide it and ‘pretend’ to be something else. I was and still am quite unsettled and disgusted by that comment.

I haven’t used my full preferred pronouns at work simply based in fear of being fired or discriminated against further. Same thing at home- I haven’t told all my family out of fear. I may look back on this at some future date where I fully respect myself and I’m confident. I look forward to that day.

Oh, and I’m autistic.

Perhaps it is one of these things or all of them that cause people to treat me certain ways. I’d like to find out.

I worked outdoors at an Orchard for a season. They called me Cinderella because of the way I looked when I cleaned. They gave employees gloves and heaters. Only not me. When I asked, I was given a broken one and told to fix it. A coworker who had intellectual disabilities and poor eyesight was not offered a heater at all. I did not renew for the next season. Kim and I stayed in touch though.

I worked next at a gift shop at a historical site. I loved the history and the old buildings, but the cashier work was admittedly difficult. Most of the employees were kind, retired old ladies who treated me gently, like a child. Sometimes too much like a child. The assistant manager seemed wary of me, and she often avoided me. I don’t know why. I’m not good with eye contact, and I always fear that people will mistake my zoning out as being creepy or disrespectful; maybe it was that. She never brought her kids with her on days I worked.

The head manager was courteous, but always called me Special. We had an older man work in the last 2 years I was there who had a strong inclination to associate with the children at the shop, and in turn, me as well. He would always want a hug or pat me on the back, but ignored the other workers. I told the managers my uncomfortable feelings about him, but it went mostly unnoticed.

When it was found that I was decent with computers, I was tasked with entering jewelry into the system and creating labels with number associations. I enjoyed it, and they promised me a decent raise. My pay was raised a dollar several weeks later, and I found myself being tasked with more and more computer work, to the point of becoming an office manager myself, earning a grand total of 9 dollars an hour while my counterpart who started a year earlier owned a home on the same work.

I left that job after 4 years to be the music director at a local church. I love music and was excited. Maybe too excited. I developed acid re-flux and was hospitalized the week before my start day due to a panic attack. I realize now it was from stress. I also had an ovarian cyst removed a year later- it took up my entire pelvis and its formation was also attributed to stress. I’ve since been diagnosed with generalized anxiety, and I continue to have ever changing digestive issues, muscle problems and panic attacks.

After realizing I was autistic and also non-binary, so much of the stress of life started to make sense. The past few months I have been making life changes, and working towards finding a workplace that is accommodating and safe for me. My stress has lessened.

I worked at the church for 2 years. My last day is actually at the end of this month. As is the trend, I was not treated with respect when it came to my job. My pastor started choosing the hymns over me, and would make comments about me during services. His favorite was to say that my music made him fall asleep, and wait for laughter from the congregation. He had no musical knowledge, and forced me to play every song as fast as I possibly could. He didn’t believe I could do my job. Any attempts at mutual work failed to manifest. I unfortunately was groomed by a member of the hiring committee there as well, a type of abuse I didn’t even realize I had fallen into until several months after it was too late.

I currently work at a high school as a choir accompanist. I use she/they pronouns there, but no one uses they and I’m too worried to be fully they like I am outside of work. I am wary of soiling my relationship with the director further. She’s quite religious in the ‘gays don’t have rights’ way, so I have my fears.

The director is kind, but sees me as this innocent child that happens to have natural piano abilities, and the mutual respect that I’ve come to dream of just isn’t there again.

The director has the key to the doors and lets students in without fail, but conveniently forgets to let me in almost every day. At one time, I was in physical therapy and had a hard time standing and walking for any period of time. I almost went home because she didn’t answer any communication, class started 20 minutes previously, and it was 90 degrees outside and I needed to sit down because my legs were cramping. She plans the music weeks in advance, but doesn’t give them to me until the day the students get it, despite my repeated asking for time to prepare.

One day I was on zoom and she and the student teacher greeted me and then ignored my presence and played the piano herself for class. She struggled with the parts and commented to the choir that, “wow, Ms. Khango is actually pretty dang good at this- that little girl can play!”, but didn’t listen to me when I offered to play. I left the zoom after an hour.

The online students seemed to share my surprise at least, and I am grateful to them. They kept me grounded and reminded me that I matter and should have the same respect as everyone else in the room, zoom or not. They talk to me about not being heard and their chats not being read during class. It bothered me, too. The next week I brought it up to her in the form of making sure the zoom students were heard and she quickly dismissed it, like it was a puff of smoke. The students online now ask me questions directly and I relay them. It’s met with annoyance by the director.

They have voices too.

One of the scariest moments of my life was last week- I wore my ‘disability rights are human rights’ shirt to school. (Okay, maybe not scary to some, but it very much was for me.) After class, one of the students came to me and asked if I could help him find a way for his grandfather to get a seat at the concert, as he was disabled and he didn’t know how to proceed.

It filled me with joy to help him, and it filled me with rage when the teachers asked if his grandpa could just get out of the wheelchair instead.

My overall conclusion to all of these things is that people simply don’t understand, or don’t want to because it makes their lives harder.

Is discrimination and ignorance really easier than respecting people?

I’m not sure if this is all just one big complaint essay. I guess it is. What I needed to do was write it all out. All the things that make me uneasy or feel like lesser of a person. And I wanted to know why.

I note that at every job I am perceived as a child, or as someone naïve. I am not treated the same as another adult employee. I was ostracized for my way of moving and talking. Taken advantage of. My needs were not accommodated.

Even now, I feel guilt for writing this, like I’m just playing the victim for attention or something.

I want to be strong enough to stand up to it and ask to be treated with respect and have it follow through.

I want to unmask myself more and let myself move and talk naturally, and use my real pronouns.

My respect for myself and for others must become a powerful force.

My friends on discord- my real, genuine friends, have become monumental in my life. Most of my life I did not have true friends. Without them and their unconditional love and support, I would not be where I am right now. We are all equals. I want to embody that strong respect and bring it to others.

It’s getting late. 1 a.m. now. Well, I have tomorrow. Plenty of time for Star Trek.

#workplace problems #actuallyautistic #essay #nonbinary #figuring out life

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troybeecham · 3 years

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Today, the Church remembers Gregory of Nazianzus (c. AD 329– 25 January 390), also known as Gregory the Theologian, who was was a 4th-century Archbishop of Constantinople, and theologian. He is widely considered the most accomplished rhetorical stylist of the patristic age. As a classically trained orator and philosopher, he infused Hellenism into the early church, establishing the paradigm of Byzantine theologians and church officials.

Ora pro nobis.

Gregory made a significant impact on the shape of Trinitarian theology among both Greek- and Latin-speaking theologians, and he is remembered as the “Trinitarian Theologian”. Much of his theological work continues to influence modern theologians, especially in regard to the relationship among the three Persons of the Triune God. Along with the brothers Basil the Great and Gregory of Nyssa, he is known as one of the Cappadocian Fathers.

Gregory is a saint in both Eastern and Western Christianity. In the Roman Catholic Church he is numbered among the Doctors of the Church; in the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic Churches he is revered as one of the Three Holy Hierarchs, along with Basil the Great and John Chrysostom.

He is also one of only three men in the life of the Orthodox Church who have been officially designated “Theologian”, the other two being the Apostle St. John (the Evangelist), and St. Symeon the New Theologian.

After his baptism at age 30, Gregory gladly accepted his friend Basil’s invitation to join him in a newly founded monastery. The solitude was broken when Gregory’s father, a bishop, needed help in his diocese and estate. It seems that Gregory was ordained a priest practically by force, and only reluctantly accepted the responsibility. He skillfully avoided a schism that threatened when his own father made compromises with Arianism. At 41, Gregory was chosen suffragan bishop of Caesarea and at once came into conflict with Valens, the emperor, who supported the Arians.

An unfortunate by-product of the battle was the cooling of the friendship of two saints. Basil, his archbishop, sent him to a miserable and unhealthy town on the border of unjustly created divisions in his diocese. Basil reproached Gregory for not going to his see.

When protection for Arianism ended with the death of Valens, Gregory was called to rebuild the faith in the great see of Constantinople, which had been under Arian teachers for three decades. Retiring and sensitive, he dreaded being drawn into the whirlpool of corruption and violence. He first stayed at a friend’s home, which became the only orthodox church in the city. In such surroundings, he began giving the great sermons on the Trinity for which he is famous. In time, Gregory did rebuild the faith in the city, but at the cost of great suffering, slander, insults, and even personal violence. An interloper even tried to take over his bishopric.

Theodosius wanted to further unify the entire empire behind the orthodox position and decided to convene a church council to resolve matters of faith and discipline. Gregory was of similar mind in wishing to unify Christianity. In the spring of 381 they convened the Second Ecumenical Council in Constantinople, which was attended by 150 Eastern bishops. After the death of the presiding bishop, Meletius of Antioch, Gregory was selected to lead the Council. Hoping to reconcile the West with the East, he offered to recognize Paulinus as Patriarch of Antioch. The Egyptian and Macedonian bishops who had supported Maximus’s ordination arrived late for the Council. Once there, they refused to recognise Gregory’s position as head of the church of Constantinople, arguing that his transfer from the See of Sasima was canonically illegitimate.

Gregory was physically exhausted and worried that he was losing the confidence of the bishops and the emperor. Rather than press his case and risk further division, he decided to resign his office: “Let me be as the Prophet Jonah! I was responsible for the storm, but I would sacrifice myself for the salvation of the ship. Seize me and throw me … I was not happy when I ascended the throne, and gladly would I descend it.” He shocked the Council with his surprise resignation and then delivered a dramatic speech to Theodosius asking to be released from his offices. The emperor, moved by his words, applauded, commended his labor and granted his resignation. The Council asked him to appear once more for a farewell ritual and celebratory orations. Gregory used this occasion to deliver a final address and then departed.

His last days were spent in solitude and austerity. He wrote religious poetry, some of it autobiographical, of great depth and beauty. He was acclaimed simply as “the Theologian.”

Throughout his life Gregory faced stark choices. Should he pursue studies as a rhetor or philosopher? Would a monastic life be more appropriate than public ministry? Was it better to blaze his own path or follow the course mapped for him by his father and Basil? Gregory’s writings illuminate the conflicts which both tormented and motivated him. Biographers suggest that it was this dialectic which defined him, forged his character and inspired his search for meaning and truth.

For those who, like you, seek the truth of God’s love above all things, even at great personal cost; for those called to the service of the Holy Church, but who do not truly find their rest within the machinations of institutions that are so often lead by those who seek personal glory; for sensitive souls like you who are placed in positions of authority, but are often misunderstood or ineffectual for lack of desire to rule over others, but rather desire to lead through teaching and preaching the wondrous mystery of God, by the pursuit of humility, by example of holiness of life, devotion to worship, prayer, and learning, and love for the God who is Love.

O God, by your Holy Spirit you give to some the word of wisdom, to others the word of knowledge, and to others the word of faith: We praise your Name for the gifts of grace manifested in your servant Gregory, and we pray that your Church may never be destitute of such gifts; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

#christianity #jesus #god #saints #salvation #father troy beecham #troy beecham episcopal #father troy beecham episcopal

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xxpadfootxx · 4 years

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🐾Green Tea & Cherry Blossoms Are a Good Mix (Part 2/2)🐾

A/N: Hey guys, not dead! I’m sorry this part 2 took so fucking long to make, I had to rewrite it like six times because I could never really write something I genuinely liked. Each time I thought of a plot line for this thing, I would get half way through it and realize I hated it. But eventually, I was able to settle on something I thought continued the story nicely. So thank you for your patience, and without further ado, here is part 2!

~~~ The atmosphere was so tense it was almost palpable as Izuku and his friends and family stayed in the waiting room, praying that everything was going to be alright. It seemed as if almost the entirety of Class 1-A was in the waiting room of the hospital, the nurses originally a little frazzled by the appearance of so many pro-heroes in one place. But it was to be expected with two of the most popular heroes getting ready to become a family.

Despite his gratitude at his friends being there for him, Izuku paid them no mind as he paced restlessly along the length of the room, his breaths coming out in short pants. He should be in there with her, she was probably terrified, wanting someone to comfort her, but he couldn’t.

Izuku’s head snapped up when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the large metal doors leading to the delivery room, only to slump down again when the nurse ignored everyone in the room and moved through another set of doors to their right. Izuku loosed a shaky breath and started pacing again, clenching and unclenching his fists. He so desperately wanted to know what was going on. Everything had been going smoothly until a short while ago, the sound of the monitors flatlining ringing in his ears. Ochako and their baby were in distress.

Izuku had of course been worried when his wife had let out a panicked shriek that evening, only to find her water had broken, but even Ochako had comforted him and told him everything would be fine. He had been able to calm himself down and drive her to the hospital, believing in what she said despite her loud groans of pain and labored breathing. When they had reached the hospital, Izuku had flown through the paperwork so he could be by Ochako’s side, letting her crush his hand as she screamed. The doctors and nurses had even commented on how things were going smoothly, helping to appease some of Izuku’s nerves.

Until, it suddenly wasn’t going smoothly. The loud flat ringing of the monitors had caused Izuku’s fear to spike, but he had almost lost his mind when the nurses ushered him out of the room, only telling him that the woman he loved and the child they had made together were in distress, leaving him alone with his nearly crippling fear.

His friends had already been in the waiting room to support Izuku and Ochako, and had been surprised when Izuku had come into the room with them, expecting him to be with Ochako until he shakily explained what was going on. Ever since then, Izuku had not rested, constantly pacing as thoughts of the worst case scenario filled his head.

What if his wife and baby died? The thought had Izuku fighting for breath as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t lose them, not them. Ochako, the woman who had helped him from the very beginning when he had almost fallen flat on his face in front of U.A. all those years ago. The woman who inspired him every day and worked by his side, watching his back so they could both return home safely. The woman who made him feel like he was worth something, like he deserved to be loved no matter what happened. The woman who loved him when he couldn’t love himself, comforting him when he couldn’t save a life or when he felt he was not good enough. And their baby, the little bundle of joy they had been eagerly waiting for for nine long months. The baby that Izuku never thought he would have, making his heart burst with joy whenever he pictured his son or daughter crawling around the house, or standing on his feet and holding his hands when learning how to walk, or looking up at their parents with shining eyes while calling them “Mommy” and “Daddy”.

Izuku’s blood ran cold at the thought of losing them, of having the lights of his life ripped away from him. He began to hyperventilate as he paced, his mind running wild. What would he do if they didn’t make it? They were his sole reason for living, the people who breathed life into his heart and soul every day. He knew that if they died today that he would become a shell of himself, completely giving up. He was nothing without them, couldn’t go on without his family.

A hand on his shoulder stopped his plummeting thoughts and Izuku turned around to see Iida standing behind him, supporting him. Izuku’s eyes slid away from his friend’s concerned gaze. He knew he was acting like a crazy person, pacing and panting and clenching his fingers over and over again but he just couldn’t help it. Not when his wife and baby were on the line and he could do absolutely nothing to help.

“Izuku…, she’s the strongest person we know, she’ll make it,” Iida said.

Izuku nodded woodenly in response and kept pacing, gently pulling away from Iida’s grasp. Another nurse came into the room and Izuku nearly injured his neck with how fast he looked up, only to once again hang his head when he kept walking. He wanted so badly to help Ochako, to take some of her pain away. He would do anything to trade places with her, to take away the dangerous stress her body was under, anything to keep her with him. He grit his teeth and scoffed to himself, at his title of Number One hero. How could he be Number One when he couldn’t even save the ones closest to his heart? He felt so helpless in this situation and it was tearing him apart.

Another hand made him stop in his pacing but this time, the person who was standing behind him made his brain short circuit for a moment, temporarily dashing all of his negative thoughts. Bakugo growled at the look of surprise on Izuku’s face but gave the other young man a firm squeeze where his hand was resting on his shoulder.

“Listen here, nerd. Four-Eyes over there was right. Round Face is very strong and she will not go down without a fight. Don’t have so little faith in her, you know she will do everything in her power to come back to you, right? She’s never been helpless, and she would never just give up, not on you, herself, or this brat you two are having, you got that? So stop panicking so much and be brave, for the sake of your family.”

Izuku stared at Bakugo in shock at his impassioned speech but eventually pulled himself together enough to nod and let out a strangled, “Right!”

Bakugo grunted in response and moved back over to his seat beside his husband, Kirishima, who flashed Izuku the most comforting smile he could muster. Izuku nodded at Kirishima’s smile and managed to force himself to walk over to the chairs his friends were sitting in. Momo immediately stood from her spot and offered Izuku her chair, moving to stand beside her husband Todoroki, who stood behind the stroller that held their twin sons.

Izuku thanked Momo and sat down beside his mother, who immediately embraced her son in a gentle hug, her hand stroking his hair as she murmured words of comfort, fighting the tears that sprung in her own eyes at the sight of her son in so much distress. She was worried for Izuku. Inko knew how much he loved the absolutely amazing woman he had come to call his wife, knew it would destroy him if she didn’t make it. Her own heart throbbed at the thought of that sweet girl in pain, more tears spilling from her eyes as she thought about the life slowly ebbing from the normally strong woman. She had loved Ochako the moment she walked through their door all those years ago with Izuku, the girl acting like the daughter she never had. Inko’s love for her had only grown as her son had gotten closer to her, immediately bursting into tears when they announced their engagement. She couldn’t have asked for a better woman to be with her son, and the idea that she might not make it made Inko feel as if she were losing a piece of herself.

“It’s okay, Izuku. She will make it. She will be just fine. You know how strong she is, you know she always has your back and has always put you as her top priority, she will not leave you,” Inko murmured as she rubbed her son’s back, trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to reassure Izuku.

Izuku nodded and forced himself to take deep breaths and focus on what Bakugo and his mother had said. He could feel himself calming down a little, but the anxiety still reared in his chest like a tsunami, his leg bouncing as he held his face in his hands, trying his hardest not to lose himself. He could hear his friends offering him words of comfort and gently touching his back and shoulders, but his head felt like it was filled with static, his ears clogged with white noise as his panic continued to rise. He managed to force it down again, Bakugo’s words acting as a shield to prevent him from going completely insane, but he still couldn’t escape the dark thoughts that swirled in his mind.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Izuku muttered suddenly, standing from his seat and making his way through the clinic, his friends watching him in anguish as he left.

Izuku didn’t know where he was going as he walked through the halls, ignoring the nurses and doctors that passed him, just letting his legs take him wherever they wanted to.

‘Please, whoever is up there, please,’ Izuku begged in his head. He didn’t pray often, mostly because he just wasn’t a very religious man, but he knew he had to make an exception here. Even if nobody was there to help him, he had to try. No matter how far fetched the solution seemed, Izuku was willing to try anything to help his family. ‘Please don’t take them from me. You can have anything you want, take anything from me and I will be fine, but please spare them. Take anything but them.’

“Any news?” a deep voice suddenly made Izuku whirl around to find Ochako’s mother and father sitting on a bench in the hallway he was walking down, his despair keeping him from noticing the two people he had come to know as his second set of parents.

“Not yet,” Izuku said in a strangled voice, shaking his head as he spoke.

He saw the couple look at each other, tears in their eyes as her father nodded woodenly in response. Ochako’s mother was trying hard to choke back a sob, swallowing thickly as she looked at Izuku, who was shifting from foot to foot nervously. The sight made a small watery smile steal across her lips.

“How are you feeling, honey? Have you gotten enough water?” Ochako’s mother asked, making Izuku blink at her in surprise.

“Oh, um, yeah, I guess,” Izuku lied. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I haven’t asked you before now, I didn’t even consider how you two must be feeling.”

Izuku’s response made Ochako’s father chuckle softly. “Son, you don’t have to apologize, it’s obvious you have other things on your mind. If you weren’t out of your mind with worry for our daughter right now, I would’ve wondered why the hell she married you. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Izuku relaxed a little and stopped shifting at her father’s words, the man providing Izuku with a little bit of comfort. It was funny to Izuku how he had once been scared of this man, intimidated by his sharp glare and tall figure when he first started dating Ochako, constantly worried about being beaten to a pulp if he did anything wrong. It had taken a while, but he had eventually warmed up to Izuku, relaxing around him when he realized how much Izuku cared for his daughter, revealing his lovable personality and boisterous laughter.

“Thank you,” Izuku mumbled, hanging his head as the weight of the situation suddenly made him feel drained.

Izuku gasped when he suddenly felt two pairs of arms wrap around him, the older couple pulling him into their embrace as they cried together.

“Whatever happens, Izuku, just know that we don’t blame you. We know how much you love our Ochako, and we know that you would do anything to protect her. When we gave you our approval in having our daughter’s hand in marriage, we meant it. We could not have asked for a better person to take care of her,” Ochako's mother whispered, her tears dripping onto his shirt as she pulled him closer. “I’m so sorry, Izuku.”

Izuku cried harder at her words, hugging them both back. He really was so lucky. He felt he didn’t deserve their trust, not when their daughter was lying in a bed, knocking on death’s door because of him, but he couldn’t deny that he felt better at their words of trust. They eventually parted, the tear tracks on his face mirrored by the two people in front of him.

“Come on, son, let’s go back with everyone else, see if there is any news we might have missed,” Ochako’s father said, placing a hand on Izuku’s shoulder to gently steer him back to the waiting room where his friends and mother were sitting.

Izuku nodded and led his in-laws back through the maze of the hospital, pushing open the doors to the waiting room with Ochako’s parents in tow. Inko immediately stood and met with Ochako’s family after quickly checking on her son again, embracing Ochako’s mother in a hug to consol the quietly sobbing woman. Ochako’s father took a seat along the wall of the waiting room, away from everyone else while Izuku made his way to a chair in between Iida and Kaminari, flashing them both grateful looks when they each grabbed one of his shoulders.

Suddenly, the large doors leading to the delivery room opened and Ochako’s doctor came into the room carrying a clipboard.

“Mr. Midoriya?” She asked, peering around the room at the various heroes and other families waiting for the birth of their new babies to be announced.

Izuku gulped and stood up as Iida and Kaminari on either side of him took his hands, while his other friends sitting around him grabbed ahold of his shoulders and arms, all of them touching him, grounding him so that no matter what news he received, he knew he was going to be taken care of.

“The surgery was a success and your wife is exhausted but otherwise completely fine,” the doctor said with a bright smile. “Congratulations Mr. Midoriya, you are now the father of a healthy baby girl.”

Izuku barely had enough time to release his held breath before his friends erupted into ecstatic cheers of joy. Izuku’s knees buckled and he felt himself fall only to be caught by Iida and Kaminari, who hoisted him back up to his feet. Izuku was showered in hugs and pats on his back as his closest friends celebrated around him, their eyes brimmed with tears and their faces split with beaming smiles. Inko and Ochako’s mother were sobbing against each other, their tears now of happiness they held each other. Ochako’s father had tried to stand only to fall back onto the bench, his hand running through his hair as his chest heaved, the weight of the situation falling away from their shoulders to leave everyone breathless with relief.

Izuku stumbled in the doctor’s direction and rubbed away the tears in his eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.

“C-Can I see them?” He asked.

“They are in Room #3,” the doctor said with a smile, moving to the side to let him pass.

“Thank you,” Izuku said breathlessly before scrambling his way through the doors, leaving his friends and family to celebrate without him as he made his way to the door with the large #3 plastered on the front.

Shakily grasping the doorknob, Izuku opened the door and peeked his head in. There were still a few nurses bustling around the room, cleaning up the supplies and finishing up but it was otherwise quiet. Izuku finally turned his gaze to Ochako, and couldn’t hold back his sob of relief at the sight of her. Slipping into the room, Izuku shut the door behind him gently, not wanting to wake her. He knew that despite how much he wanted to hug and kiss her, she was dead tired and needed the rest after everything her body went through to bring their baby into the world.

Izuku nodded at the nurses in gratitude as they each made their way out of the room, giving the new family some privacy. Carefully approaching the bed, Izuku’s eyes scanned all over his wife’s face, convincing himself that she was indeed still with him. After he was able to clearly see her chest rising and falling with even breaths, the steady beeping of the monitor above her a further testament to her health, Izuku finally turned his attention to the bundled up babe on her chest, wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket.

He felt the air fly out of his lungs at the sight of the baby. Their baby. He wanted to hold her but was afraid of moving her. He honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to do in this situation and he was worried about messing up. He didn’t want to scare her, or worse, hurt her; he knew he was sometimes a little careless with his strength. He was so caught up in worrying over his situation that he failed to notice Ochako open her eyes.

“You don’t have to look so afraid, ‘Zuku, she won’t bite,” Ochako said with a bright, tired smile.

Izuku’s eyes snapped to hers and he immediately felt knee-wobbling relief course through his system. “Oh my gods, Ochako,” Izuku said in a strangled cry, moving to her side of the bed.

“Hey handsome,” Ochako murmured, closing her eyes as Izuku leaned down to shower her face in kisses, leaving no part of her skin untouched as his fear melted away into relief and joy.

“I thought I lost you,” Izuku said, tears streaming unchecked down his face.

“You’ll never lose me,” Ochako said with a smile, raising one arm to shakily cup his cheek. He immediately grasped her wrist and held it, nuzzling into her palm and pressing kisses to it with a relieved sigh. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

“Oh gods, Ochako, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

A sudden coo made Izuku look down to see that their baby had woken up, blinking up at him with dark chocolatey brown eyes.

“You can hold her, if you’d like,” Ochako said, watching Izuku as he took in the sight of their daughter.

“You think I should? What if I-”

“If you say that you think you might hurt her, then I’ll bust your balls,” Ochako said, making Izuku chuckle.

“You know me too well, don’t you Ochako?”

“Yes I do. Now, she is your daughter too and I want you to hold her. She needs to bond with you and I know that you would never, accident or no, ever in a million years hurt her.”

Izuku met Ochako’s determined gaze for a moment before hesitantly nodding. Listening to her carefully as Ochako instructed him on how to hold her, Izuku eventually learned how to lift her from Ochako’s chest and bring her into his arms.

He was a little stiff at first, still worried about carrying something so small, so fragile, so precious, but with Ochako’s encouragement, he eventually relaxed, staring in awe at the little life in his arms.

She was absolutely adorable. She had Ochako’s brown eyes but she had Izuku’s hair, a little tuft of dark green sitting on the top of her head. Izuku knew in that moment as he held her that he would do anything for this baby. She already had him completely wrapped around her finger and she hadn’t done more than look at him. He knew that he would give his life to protect her as he stared at her adorable chubby face, his protective instinct going into overdrive. This baby was his, his and Ochako’s, and he wouldn’t give her up for anything.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m your father,” Izuku murmured. “I love you so much.”

Izuku was sure his heart was going to explode when his daughter gave a happy gurgle and curled up tighter into his embrace, snuggling into his chest.

The sound of the door opening quietly made both new parents look up, to see their best friends quietly filing into the room.

“The doctor said we could come in just so long as we gave you two space and stayed quiet,” Kirishima said in response to Izuku’s silent question as they came in. Izuku nodded and looked back down at the life in his arms, his heart completely melting when she gave another coo.

“Wow…,” Kaminari said, his gold eyes wide with wonder. Jirou snorted at her boyfriend’s reaction but seemed no less enamored either.

Tokoyami was standing with Tsu at his side, a smile gracing both of their features while Dark Shadow cried silently in between them. Kirishima was smiling the widest he had ever grinned, his expression lighting up the entire room at the sight of the new family. Even Bakugo had a soft look on his face, mumbling, “Cute brat,” affectionately under his breath. Iida was holding back an eager Hatsume, but even the energetic engineer was silent as she used her quirk to get a closer look at the baby in Izuku’s arms. Mina and Hagakure were quietly squealing in the back corner of the room, their eyes wide with fascination.

The last people to file in were Ochako’s parents and Inko, all three of which were looking at their children and new grandchild with wide, tear-filled eyes and huge smiles. Izuku and Ochako knew their parents would want to talk to them privately eventually, wanting to greet Ochako after the whole ordeal and meet the newest member of the family one on one, but they were willing to wait for a moment, letting their friends be there for the new parents before they had time alone.

“Heh, thanks for coming, everyone,” Ochako croaked, her throat still sore from overuse.

“Oh my god, thank you for letting us be here!” Mina said as everyone else nodded their agreement.

Ochako smiled at them and managed to sit up a little with Izuku’s help. Izuku then gently handed their baby back to her mother, his face practically glowing as he stared down at their bundle of joy.

“She’s so beautiful, Ochako,” Izuku said, leaning over to kiss the top of his wife’s head.

“She sure is,” Ochako said with a sleepy sigh, gazing down at their now sleeping daughter.

“What are you guys going to name her?” Momo asked softly, tears in her eyes at the sight of the new family.

Izuku and Ochako looked at each other with bright smiles before looking back at their friends.

“Her name is Sakura Nana Midoriya,” Izuku said proudly. “Our little cherry blossom.”

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highintlowwis · 4 years

Text

Fate-Touched C2 character?

I've been considering this recently, and I'd like the community's input on my theories. I think it is a relatively common assumption that at least one member of the Mighty Nein is Fate-Touched, which can help explain how they get into these crazy situations and why their actions impact the world around them so heavily. I’ve been thinking about who might be the Fate-Touched of the Mighty Nein.

For those who don't know, in Matt's world's a Fate-Touched person is one who naturally causes the strings of fate to gravitate towards them, causing large events to happen around them and causing their actions to have a larger effect than they might otherwise. For example, why did Kylre the Nergaliid go crazy and start creating husks at the ONE circus performance the Mighty Nein happened to attend? The bending of the strings of fate could be the explanation. It can also help explain why this "handful of wandering souls" was drawn together in the first place.

Here's a summary of my personal conclusions on which member of TM9 is the most likely to be Fate-Touched, more in-depth analysis below the cut:

Beau: definitely possible, but she would HATE it

Caduceus: very unlikely

Caleb: Seems like he would be, but is definitely not due to C1

Jester: most likely imo

Veth: probably not

Fjord: possibly, but less likely than Jes or Beau

Yasha: maybe it's fate, maybe it's mystery

Beau: There is definitely some evidence that points towards Beau being Fate-Touched. Before she was even born, her father's deal with Isharnai put her in contact with a huge force of twisting fate. She was already destined to have an unhappy childhood, but then the strings of fate may have pulled her into a different direction. Her father could have chosen to send her off and punish her a number of different ways, but she just so happened to be sent off to the Cobalt Soul, an organization that (though she would refuse to admit it until later) gave her a perfect opportunity for her to grow and flourish. Later, through unknown circumstances, she found herself in the company of Fjord and Jester, coincidentally the day before they met the rest of the group. In the more recent days of the Mighty Nein, she has become an extremely influential Face of the group, and has been able to sway the minds and actions of powerful figures in the world. However, I feel like Beau would really hate the idea of being Fate-Touched, which could be a very interesting thing to watch her explore and come to terms with.

Caduceus: Cad seems like the least likely to be Fate-Touched to me. Firstly, he didn't join the Mighty Nein until later, so that wouldn't explain all their strange encounters early on. In addition, he is an incredibly passive person by nature and generally seems more happy to go with the flow of things and observe the world, tampering with it as little as possible. Though he has an incredible calming effect and is an integral member of the Mighty Nein, most of what he does tends to be on a smaller scale and more personal than world-changing.

Caleb: If you consider C2 as its own entity, Caleb is a very strong possibility. He was a poor boy from a tiny town with almost nothing going for him, except for a strong aptitude for the arcane. The strings of fate brought him to the Academy, where he was able to study for many years, but they also brought him to the terrible and powerful Trent Ikithon, who seems to be the kind of person who would have a finger on many different strings. Since leaving, he randomly met another wandering soul, Nott, who ended up being a perfect complement to him without either of them realizing it. After joining the Mighty Nein, he has been able to influence powerful mages to support and teach them (Yussa and Essek), create entirely new, world-changing spells, and literally return a religious artifact full of souls to it's rightful home. However, (C1 Spoilers) since Vax was Fate-Touched, it seems unlikely that Matt would choose another one of Liam's characters. It seems a little unfair to the other players and puts a lot of pressure on Liam again. If that weren't true, Caleb would 100% be my pick for the Fate-Touched of the group.

Jester: Jessie is my personal guess for the Fate-Touched. As Caleb said, she has the ability to change people. At a very young age, Artagan, an incredibly powerful and ancient entity from another plane of existence, was drawn to her even though she rarely left her hotel. A young girl, who had no friends other than her mother and Bluude, literally created a cult and facilitated the rise of a demigod. Unknowingly, she impacted the lives of hundreds of people presumably across the entire world, all of whom were brought under the banner of the Traveller. In addition, she is the one who brought the Mighty Nein together. She met up with Fjord in the Menagerie Coast, it is likely (though not confirmed afaik) that she initiated contact with Beau, and she was the one who began speaking to Caleb and Nott in the tavern and invited them to attend the carnival as a group. Since being in the Mighty Nein, she has gained the respect and support of a major crime lord, gotten kidnapped by a group of human traffickers, and conned an ancient hag into freeing her friend. It would be very fun to watch her embrace her role and use her influence as a Fate-Touched to wreak chaos onto everything she touches.

Veth: I don't think it is too likely that Vethis the Fate-Touched. There are a few large events that could be explained by it, such as her family in particular being kidnapped by the goblins, meeting up with Caleb, and her husband being the one chosen to work on the Beacon. However, though some large events have occurred around her, none of her actions have had quite the weight that a Fate-Touched would have. As evidenced in her offer to Isharnai, she thinks on a smaller scale, and for her the world is only as large as the people she loves; outside of that, she has no interest in impacting fate or the lives of others.

Fjord: Fjord has a few points towards being Fate-Touched, but it's not as likely for him as it is for others. First of all, he was one of very few chosen of Uk'atoa. To have an ancient, powerful Titan from another age take an interest in you definitely could be a result of the bending of fate. In addition, randomly finding the Cloven Crystal Eye of Uk'atoa could be more than a coincidence. Another recent, strange "coincidence" is the connection of the name Stone to the sister family of Clay. There has been a lot of speculation on what this could be about, and if there is any meaning to it, and Fjord being the Fate-Touched could definitely give some explanation. Personally, I would love to be wrong and see Fjord given this gift and responsibility, as he is my favorite of the Mighty Nein, but I don't think it's going to happen.

Yasha: Our friendly neighborhood barbarian has a few pieces of evidence to point towards her being Fate-Touched, but many of these could also be explained away by a yet-to-be-revealed aspect of her backstory. There is still a lot we don't know about Yasha and her past, so nothing can be assumed. Firstly, Obann found her and made her a part of the Angels of Irons, a cult which consisted of incredibly powerful figures including ancient, (almost) unkillable champions of evil gods. Then, she was saved and brought under the protection of the Stormlord, gaining his favor. The most compelling piece of evidence comes from Obann's explanation of how he chose the members for his cult: they were all unkillable, so they could perform the deadly ritual to break the chains. Yasha believes this means it may just be easier to ressurect her if she dies, but we have not gotten any more explanation about it. This draws a strong parallel to the temporarily unkillable Fate-Touched of C1, who was kept alive by their god for a very specific purpose.

So yeah that’s how I’ve been spending quarantine, theorizing about esoteric ideas of fate for fictional characters because I miss them. Thoughts? Counter-arguments? Questions, comments, concerns?

#critical role #mighty nein #fate touched #cr meta

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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#69 with danbrey?

#69 Danbrey: I’m a famous celeb and you’ve been dragging me on social media with really funny memes/come backs, so I’ve come to surprise you in person on the set of your first interview about the interactions that have made you an internet sensation. SFW

Aubrey bounces her legs with jittery excitement; she’s going to be on T.V! Real T.V! Chicanery is a show that knows how to take someone’s fifteen minutes of fame and double it, segments and interviews always going viral, and Aubrey cannot wait to see what happens.

“This is so cool” she mouths to her friend Duck, who came with her as support (though she really wishes he’d stop making goo-goo eyes at that one camera-guy and focus).

“Ah, Ms. Little, wonderful to make your acquaintance.” Ned Chicane enters the set, voice booming and teeth gleaming, takes a seat behind his desk, “now, don’t be nervous my dear, just follow my lead and try to forget the cameras are there.”

“I’ll do my best!”

“Thirty seconds Mr. Chicane!” Kirby, the assistant director, waves the stragglers of the crew out of the way.

Aubrey holds her breath as Kirby counts down, forces out a breath as Ned starts talking.

“Welcome back, esteemed viewers! Here in the studio with me is Aubrey Little, who you may know better as Lady Flame on Twitter and Instagram. Now, Aubrey, you’ve had several tweets that have gone viral in response to Dani Coulice, a voice actor on the hit animated series Northwoods. Buzzfeed has featured them as some of the best tweets of the year.”

“Um, that’s cool, but it’s like March.”

“Tell as bit about how you got started in your back and forth with Ms. Coulice.”

“Um, well, she was insisting that a joke on Northwoods that was SUPER gross was fine and I just kept responding to her with that ‘sure, Jan’ gif from the Brady Bunch. I guess people thought it was funny.” She shrugs.

“Yes, they certainly did. But I wonder what our next guest has to say on the matter.”

Aubrey watches as a blonde woman in a bright green and gold sun-dress crosses onto the stage. She’s breathtaking, even if her smile is well-rehearsed.

“Um, who is this?”

Ned turns, raising an eyebrow, and the woman’s smile twitches.

“This is Dani Coulice.”

Aubrey has a pet rabbit. Said rabbit once got stuck in a tanktop and froze, as if staying still would keep him safe from the mysterious force gripping him. When Aubrey tried to dislodge him, he shrieked in alarm. That’s basically how Aubrey feels right now.

She should say something clever, or show that she’s okay with the goof or at least isn’t afraid of it.

“No one told me she was cute!”

She can hear Duck smacking his forehead from across the room.

“Why? Does the fact I’m cute change anything about my work?” Dani gracefully sits down, smiling at both of them.

“No! I, um, I was just surprised. This is all a surprise.”

“When it comes to fame, you have to be ready for anything.” Dani says mildly.

“This barely even counts as fame! My memes will be outdated in like a week and everyone will be talking about, like, a chinchilla in a cowboy hat or something.”

Dani snickers, “sorry, that’s just a funny image.”

“God I wish I were a chinchilla right now.”

“Did you mean to say that out loud?”

“Fuck!”

“You’d be even cuter like that; I’d give you a nice bowl to take a dust bath in.” She’s laughing more now, the sound kind enough that Aubrey’s spine unclenches some.

“Wait, did you say eve-”

“Alright, now that you two lovely ladies have met, I’m going to show some screenshots of your exchanges and get your thoughts on each one.”

“Actually, Ned, I have something even better.” Dani sets her hand on the hosts desk conspiratorially, “something no one but me knows yet.”

“Do tell.”

“As of this morning, I am no longer part of the Northwoods cast.”

Half the crew gasps while Aubrey worries this is somehow part of the prank. Only Ned is unphazed.

“Why, that’s unexpected. Are you at liberty to discuss what happened? Was it merely time for your to move on to bigger things? Or Aubrey’s tweets, perhaps?”

Another laugh, “The first guess is closer; I’d had misgivings about the writing on the show for a while, and then they announced they were going to kill me off. In a tampon-based accident, played for laughs.”

“Classy.” Aubrey mutters.

“I know, right? I quit then and there, and had my agent accept your offer to appear here so I could share the news. After all, did you think I really came on this show just to dunk on some unsuspecting magician?”

“Uh, well-” Ned catches sight of Kirby signalling off-camera, “we need to keep the lights on, so it’s time to go to commercial. When we come back, we’ll learn just how many pigeons one gentleman can fit in his pants.”

----------------------------------------------

“That’s it, deep breaths, here,” Duck hands her a water bottle, “you did good.”

“I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please don’t, we gotta take the train back and I don’t wanna carry you. I mean, I will if I have to, ‘cause that’s what friends doOOshit, uh, hello Ms. Coulice.”

“Hello. Can I, uh, speak with Aubrey alone a moment?”

“Uh…”

“Duck, look, it’s that camera guy!”

“What, whereAHfuck, hey!” Duck continues making indignant sounds as Aubrey shuts the Green Room door and locks it.

“Nicely done.” Dani leans against the table, eyeing Aubrey up and down approvingly.

“Thanks. Duck takes his job as my emotional support bear seriously.”

Another laugh, “It’s good to have friends like that.”

“Yeah” Aubrey toys with the flame pin on her vest, “um, Dani? I’m kinda sorry for dragging you so much. I mean, I stand by the criticisms of the show, but I probably coulda expressed them better. Or directed them at the writers instead of you.”

“Aubrey, it’s honestly not a big deal” Dani sits down on the couch, gestures to Aubrey to join her, “I’m a woman on the internet, someone teasing me with a silly meme is the least unpleasant thing I deal with.”

“Uggh, yeah, that’s true.”

“And I honestly did agree with you on a lot, but I didn’t want to put my work at risk, not until I had a better gig lined up.”

“What-”

Dani presses a gold-painted finger to her perfectly shaped lips, “can’t say just yet. I do have to add, I think you’re a better magician than you are an internet personality.”

“You’ve seen my stuff?” The shyness creeps up on her.

“We did a quick check when your tweets started getting attention to make sure you weren’t dangerous or something. I’ve been watching your videos religiously ever since.”

“Do you...have a favorite trick?”

“I love any of the ones that involve making things disappear. It;s so cool. And I love Dr. Harris Bonkers; he’s so cute.”

“He’s a good good boy. Most of the time.” Aubrey glances at the chunk missing from the heel of her boot.

“His owner’s not bad either.” Dani grins at her and all of Aubrey’s thoughts, worries, and breath go out the window.

“Dani? We gotta get you across town for that EW interview.”

“Coming Mama!” She stands,opens her arms, “no hard feelings?”

Aubrey hugs her, and of course she smells like daisies and summer rain, “no hard feelings.”

She waves goodbye, gathers up her things from the little make-up cubby where they sat her this morning. A small card sits atop her purse, and she opens it, mouth quirked up in confusion.

I’d love to see more of your tricks. Say at my house, Saturday?

-Dani

Aubrey reads the note, and the accompanying phone number, five times over before she believes it. Her phone dings, alerting her to the fact that she’s appeared in sixty percent fewer internet searches this week.

Fifteen minutes of fame be damned; she’s got something even better coming her way.

#aubrey little/dani #danbrey #meet ugly #celebrity AU

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