#I have a very limited pool of things I care about in fiction

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

I was reading your metas and came across the part where you said he wanted her to already be in love with him and wanted his money back and..what does that even entail for him? He wanted an obedient slave? Ok but he still wouldn't have trusted her. He still wouldn't have been happy.

This is the full text of what I said in that previous ask on the topic:

He’s been waiting for a sun summoner for an untold amount of time and has been building all his goals and desires around it. He keeps demanding her submission but that won’t get him her respect. He wants her to idolize him and to agree with everything he does. In her he wants a companion in immortality and a starry eyed acolyte. He spent all this time thinking the sun summoner was the key to all of his life’s woes, and then Alina shows up and WRECKS his shit. he feels ripped off!! He wants his money back!! But also desperately, desperately wants her to magically have always been the person he wanted her to be.

Worth noting that that is from a meta post where I’m explaining my characterization choices for a fic I wrote. But I do think that’s still accurate of (my interpretation) of his canon characterization anyway.

I can’t tell whether you mean “happy” as in actual happiness or in the sense of being satisfied. Though either way, you’re absolutely correct!

Regardless, these two things do tie in together to be honest. In the sense of happiness: he is a withered, miserable husk of a person. I don’t think at this point he’s really capable of being happy.

There is so much about his backstory we don’t know. But it is explicit that he didn’t start out an unfeeling monster. Demon in the Wood does go out of its way to establish that. But it also establishes his ruthlessness from a very young age and ability to do difficult things to save himself. But he’s so goal oriented and those goals are usually at the cost of any immediate, real happiness. Throughout his life, he’s kept making sacrifices, of himself and others, in the name of his larger goals, but the growing cost in his wake means that the things he’s striving towards get loftier and loftier in order to be worth it. It’s pure sunk cost fallacy.

Meanwhile, age is itself corruption for him. As he accumulates wealth, luxury, and power, and in turn loses touch with humanity and becomes increasingly jaded, his concerns become more self-centered and power driven rather than based in genuine moral ideals.

Outliving everyone he’s ever known multiple times over solidifies his growing selfishness, because what is a few hundred, or thousand lives to him, when they will all be dead within a heartbeat anyway? He might be trying to “save Ravka” from a nationalist standpoint, but the people that make up the country itself are fully disposable. Like we see by Shadow and Bone, his take on Grisha liberation is literally just fascism.

So at the tail end of at least five hundred, to possibly one thousand years, we have a corrupt despot, sitting on an endless pile of corpses, and lifetimes of genuine personal misery, who still believes himself to be the ultimate martyr, and that there is going to be— there must be— some sort of return on his enormously outsized and dearly purchased investments.

And he expects that return to be Alina.

Tangentially, something that really annoys me about this series is that, for all its focus on weighing legend and fable with reality, and trying to find the truth in stories that have been twisted by time and repetition, is that we get absolutely zero sun summoner lore, despite the strong implication that it does exist. The show makes some paltry attempt at giving us something about it being almost a prophecy? That there is some sort of, explicitly religious, story that a sun summoner will come and save Ravka or some such thing. The books don’t have even that.

We know that there is concept of sun summoners as something that could potentially happen, because they have a name for Alina’s ability the moment she’s discovered— even though there’s no indication that there’s ever been anyone else who shared the same power. But we never hear how, what exactly the expectations are, or for how long that’s been known.

What also know that the Darkling is waiting for one. And from how he speaks to her, he seems to view her as almost a cosmic reward and salve for his suffering. I do not think he’s exaggerating when he talks about how she was “meant” to be his/his balance or how she was “meant” for the amplifiers that he intends to bolster his destiny to rule. I think he fully believes in some sort of fate or grand destiny for the both of them, or rather for himself, and she is just a branch of that.

This is reaching pure conjecture, but there is the implication that shadow summoning only exists because of Ilya Morozova’s dabbling with merzost. And it itself highly seems to predate any iteration of a sun summoner ever existing, so the theory that one might ever come to be is literally because someone needs to offset the Darkling. (The series is generally very “what about Baghra? idk don’t worry about it” in terms of… a lot of things when it comes to how unique Alina and the Darkling are lmaoo and I guess that applies here.) And there’s the one kind of throw away line of his in the first book about how Etherealki typically work in pairs, but *meaningful look* Alina doesn’t have one, that I feel further hints at this idea of them being a matching set. The worldbuilding itself is murky and hard to parse in its contradictions, but I think it’s safe to say that he personally views her as something created for him.

He is putting all of his misery, and insane desires and dreams accumulated over many centuries, at her feet and expecting her to be the fulfillment of it all. There’s no way she can actually satisfy that! It is a fully, completely unattainable standard. It will never be enough. “What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men” etc, etc.

I already said this in that fic meta, but it’s relevant again here: I do think that, genuinely, there’s no degree of submission Alina could ever offer that would be enough. Partially because his irrational desire for her preexisting unconditional love, where he wants an impossible scenario where she simply never went against him or hated him for anything he did, can never be met after their initial falling out, but also because his expectations are fully unattainable. It isn’t a void that any real, living person can fill.

So you’re fully correct, even if she was completely obedient, and star struck, and ready to listen to him in all things, even as he lies to her. Even if she were willing to believe he was completely justified and in the right for his plans of like cartoonish and genocidal world domination, he would not be happy with her! She would always fall short.

All of this is to say that what I find most compelling about the Grisha trilogy is its stylized-through-fantasy premise of a vulnerable protagonist whose identity is threatened to be entirely subsumed by the exacting desires of a cruel man. I think for all of its clumsy and more juvenile trappings— and how it doesn’t fully even engage with this theme that is integral to it, yet mostly exists in the margins— it’s a fairly interesting and complicated space to play with themes of abuse and grooming. And that’s usually the main lens I’m engaging with it through.

I hope that clarifies my point!

#the more I talk about this the more I see overlap with the things that appeal to me about phantom of the opera #I have a very limited pool of things I care about in fiction #grishaverse #shadow and bone #alarkling #the darkling #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #meta #all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared #i ramble sometimes #*writer’s cap*

[harmonity-vibes]

Hello, do you receive requests?, if you do, would you write a close friend of your father's sierra six x reader smut and age difference fiction, you would make me very happy bro 🥺

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ

A/N: Hello Dear, You are my very first request. I hope this fic can make you happy. I apologize again for the poor quality and enjoy! I apologize again for the wait. English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Disclaimers & Copyright - MINORS DNI ! 18 ONLY. I know I apologize a lot. T-T

Parings - Sierra Six x Reader

Warning - non-con/dub-con, swearing, explicit smut, , riding, age gap, teasing, dom!Sierra Six. In this fic, the reader is of legal age.

Summary : Having a secret relationship with Six is a dream, except when you test his limits in front of your father. Six will always have a way of getting back at you…

You've never been so happy in your life, because Six Court was about to return from a six-month mission. Which meant he'd be coming to see you and, incidentally, your father. But it also meant that you'd be able to make up for all the time you'd spent alone with him.

You were the only one who knew what he really did, even though your father was his best friend, which wasn't surprising. He worked for the CIA and went abroad for months at a time to hunt down and kill targets. He couldn't afford to divulge information to anyone, but you were the exception. Court would tell you how and why he was doing it.

What you both loved and hated about him was his ability to keep his cool under all circumstances. Even in front of your father, he kept his cool. It was as if all your actions didn't affect him, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they did.

Your father had planned a little barbecue and some time at the pool to celebrate Court's return. Just in time, you had bought yourself a new bathing suit. This bikini barely covered your sensitive parts and you hoped Court would notice.

You'd had a crush on Court since you were 18. Sure, he was 35 at the time, but you didn't really care. You just wanted him to fuck you on every piece of furniture in the house, the thought of which made you wet every time you saw him. Then one day, you started teasing him a lot more than usual, and the next thing you knew, you were on his lap counting the number of spankings he gave you.

You wanted to be a bad girl and the barbecue gave you ample opportunity to be one. Your mouth watered just imagining his reaction. This guy could make women salivate without even knowing it, and like the lucky whore you are, you were going to take advantage of it.

You were helping your mother prepare the kebabs when suddenly two voices were heard. You recognized the second voice instantly: it was Court's. Your Court. Your Court. You were so excited to see him that your mother had to ask you to stop fidgeting.

"The girls are already getting to work. " "At least we're doing something!" Your mother announced to your father. "Oh yes sorry, excuse me darling, I was chatting with Six of the work colleagues."

While your parents were chatting, Court had approached you and bent down to whisper something in your ear.

"I missed you princess."

Then he left as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't been abroad for six months. He knew that his deep, sensual voice could make you soft, and he also knew that he was the only one who could make you that way. It annoyed you how easy it was for him to make you manageable. But he wasn't the only one who knew how to tease, two can play this game and you knew how to play it.

You'd only just realized it, but Six had changed physically in the last six months. He had become more massive and slightly taller. His hair was back to its usual brown except for the points, which remained blonde. You liked this new style, maybe you could talk to him about it later.

You were all seated on the terrace tables. Your parents opposite and Court next to you, your knees almost knocking. He had his hand on your thigh and squeezed gently, giving you a slight shiver. But you don't let that little touch, slight though it may be, distract you from your plan for revenge.

"So, Six, how did your roadtrip go?" "Well, listen, Franck, I met a lot of people, but it was short-lived." "Really? You weren't the one who scared them off, were you? Teases my father.

If you only knew, Dad, Court isn't really what you think…

You don't know why, but at that moment, you'd imagined Court's big hand on your neck as he fucked you on the floor or your bed. You almost salivate just imagining it. But a tight hand on my thigh snapped you out of your thoughts and shifted my gaze to your lover.

Court was concentrating on the subject under discussion, but he had a slight smirk on his face, he knew what you were thinking, which made you blush. However, you wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, so you put your hand on your upper thigh and stroked. You slowly moved up to his crotch and to surprise him, you grabbed his dick with the same smile on your face.

You got the reaction you wanted, his smile disappearing leaving only a tense face and huge veins all down his neck. If your parents weren't concentrating on their meal, they'd have noticed something was wrong. So you carried on, massaging that big lump between his legs.

To be honest, it excited you to do it right in front of your parents when they didn't know anything about it. It gave you a rush of adrenaline, enough to get your hand into his jeans and underwear. You knew he was big, but erect was another level. You were already wet, but the wet stain on your shorts intensified-if you kept going, you'd end up flooding your chair.

Some days, his impassive side couldn't really work, and this was one of them. He glanced at you, but it was really a warning of what could happen if you continued to play with fire. You weren't going to hide it, you loved playing with fire, even if it burned you. You were going to enjoy it before Six made you regret it.

You'd felt his pre-ejaculatory fluid on your fingers, which meant you were close to making him come. But the hand that had been on your thigh came to rest on yours and withdrew it. He certainly wanted to cum in front of your parents.

Suddenly, you felt his calloused fingers in your tight, wet hole. His moan was small, but you could hear it. That little moan he makes when he loses himself in you or when he can barely hold back his wild side. It takes all his willpower not to grab you off the table and make wild love to you.

You could barely concentrate on your movements with Court's fingers deep inside you. Nevertheless, you were lucid enough to press a little harder on his tip to make him let out another moan.

"You two gonna be all right? You're all red." "Yes, all right Mom, it's because of the sun." "All right, Rachel, yes right, it's the sun. "He was taking a big gulp of his drink to avoid eye contact with you or your father. That's when you rubbed his hot tip slit with your thumb.

He threw back all the water from his mouth and gave you a dark look full of promise. He stood up and gave your parents an excuse that you had to help him with something. He subtly took your hand to follow him. Your parents didn't see anything suspicious, so they agreed and let you go.

On the way to your room, you could feel his strong grip on your hand and you knew what that meant. He was really going to make you regret your actions. You barely had time to cross the bedroom door before he had you pinned against the wall next to it. His big, strong arms were around you. You were trapped against the wall, his body hot and giant.

"Did you think I was going to cum in front of your parents, brat?" His gaze was calculating and cold, you could feel butterflies in your lower stomach. He lifted you off the ground with one arm and you crossed your legs over his waist. You didn't pay attention, but his tight t-shirt was already on the floor and the buttons on his jeans were unhooking.

"I need you to stay quiet, understand? His hard command came straight to your pussy. "Yes sir." "Good girl."

He thrust into you without the slightest preparation, spreading your vagina wider. He quickly put his hand over your mouth to stop any sound coming out. You had to be careful with your parents down there. He gave you punishing strokes and accelerated with each thrust. You were overwhelmed by so many feelings and seeing Court as destroyed as you were could make you instantly.

Court wasn't being nice to you. His hands tightened their grip on your buttocks, which would surely bruise you the next day. But you loved that wild, ravaging Six. He'd fuck you senseless against the wall, as if it were the last time he'd ever make love to you.

"Count yourself lucky that I'm fucking you, because with your bullshit, I could have kept you from cumming for weeks." He was completely fucked up and irritated. He took deep breaths, but still continued his erratic thrusts.

"It's been so long, sweetheart," it came out almost in a pleading tone. You needed him so much, you'd forgotten manners. "Where are your manners, little girl?" "Excuse me sir, please, may I cum?" "Mmm… No, you can't yet. I'm not done with you baby girl."

So there you have it, I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if it wasn't what you wanted, but I tried to write something about it. I'll apologize if it sucked. In-any-case left likes and comments, that would help me a lot. See you soon! Love, Harmonity

#fictional characters #sierra six #sierra six x reader #@moonlight7690 #ryan gosling #secret relationship #smut #teasing #revenge #the gray man #dom character

[cathedralcomic]

So i know you've said before the clowders in cathedral are mostly indifferent on house cats / previous house cats. But what do they actually think about them based on what they know ? Do they think their lives are weird or interesting?

And on a similar note. I started on a fake book series based on Warriors that has now over the years changed into an original series. I've decided to rework it because of this. And I did have an arc where the main character is treated poorly for being previously a house cat because the clowders think theyre lazy and dishonourable (this later changes in the story and they come to accept them). I don't want it to be xenophobic like Warriors though. There's an actual explanation as to why the clowders don't like them and the main character learns this and tries to convince the cats that just because one cat sucks doesnt mean they all do. Do you think that's acceptable and fall out of the xenophobia? (If other people could give their input i'd love that as well Idk who else to turn to about this)

first off i shouldn’t be your only source here! if you haven’t already, take some time to research xenophobia in fantasy from well-established writers and folks who actually experience xenophobia.

one of waca’s problems is pitting the clans against every non-clan cat because the narrative positions them as “superior.” according to the books all cats should be clan cats to live their best life, and there’s a weird colonialist mentality whenever our main characters interact with non-clan groups or individuals. the way i’ve written the darrows in cathedral kinda serves as a jab/deconstruction of the waca clans. but the key difference here is portrayal, there’s no doubt that the darrows function very poorly and are cultish. their dislike of cats outside of their very small group presents itself in their limited gene pool. they are a fucking mess and i do not paint them in a charitable light.

i think regardless of what creature you’re writing about real world problems will seep into your story, no matter how you label them in-universe. because you are a human writing a story. what you described does sound like it drifts into xenophobia territory, but as i said earlier the concerning shit tends to lie in depiction/author bias. othering is a very common trope in fiction in general… make it explicitly bad. i’m glad your clowders come to accept house cats because wc’s complete lack of growth with the kittypet thing post-arc 1 perplexes me. if it’s still present it should be challenged and not just through character interaction but through the writing itself.

“all house cats are lazy and dishonorable” is a very warrior cats issue (down to the main character being one), so to differentiate yourself maybe reshape it until it’s unique to your story. this is more of a general writing thing though. i can imagine it being compared to wc and from my own experience that can be frustrating down the line.

soo i think my overall point here is that you’re bound to run into issues like this when writing fantasy/xenofiction, which is why research, self-reflection, and sensitivity readers are extremely crucial. keep your presentation consistent as well. if you want to condemn kitty xenophobia in your world you don’t want your readers thinking, “actually, it kinda makes sense!!!” be careful you’re not entertaining the beliefs of bigoted characters.

#ask #if i said something silly or uneducated at all here feel free to school me in the replies #especially if you yourself experience xenophobia #i think divorcing mythic xenofiction in particular from our human world is incredibly difficult #you just need to be aware of what that is and how its being conveyed #this is why i hate it when wc fans are like: #nooo no no they are wild cats they live outside it’s fantasy it doesn’t have parallels to real world issues!!!!!’ #like.. they r being written by white british ladies. #do you think cats are writing them

[omegalomania]

youre one of my favorite bandom blogs i follow bc sometimes i feel a little mean or out of place for not really caring or being interested in ships and its nice just not being the only one, i also really love your ybc comic!

hey thanks!!!! i'm super glad you like the comic, it's honestly my baby and i've put so much time into it so it means a lot when people enjoy it <3

and yeah i get what you mean about feeling out of place haha. the bottom line is that a lot of fandom spaces tend to focus on that because a lot of media de facto focuses on that cause yadda yadda yadda amatonormativity you know how it is. it really bums me out because i wish i could care about stuff like that since that would probably make my overall creative experience 100x more enjoyable, but it turns out i'm basically super romance-repulsed. when it comes to shipping (and to be clear this goes for literally all kinds of ships, real or fictional, in any form of media, it makes absolutely no fucking difference) i'm indifferent at best and actively repulsed at worst. like you kind of don't necessarily realize how baked into the fabric of fandom the very act of shipping is until you literally can't interact with it at all, because the pool of things you CAN do in that space is suddenly so limited. people aren't going to care about the things you make if they aren't written to fulfill a romantic/sexual pairing of some kind and no one's going to make something you can enjoy.

to be clear, i'm not saying this to knock shipping. i don't think it's something people necessarily think about and they're all just being their funky selves and making whatever content they want to make and they are allowed to do that. this is not an individual problem this is a broader issue that goes beyond individual creators doing their own things. in general i really don't care what people do. but it can suck and it can feel alienating when a huge portion of transformative works are just kind of inaccessible to you by default.

sorry, bit of a ramble there but it's something that weighs on me a huge amount lol. this is a big part of why i do so much creating on my own terms though! i write a HUGE amount of long-form genfic because no one else really does that in very many of the fandoms i'm in, so it boils down to me making the kind of content i want to consume because it literally won't exist otherwise. one of the big big big reasons the ybc comic has no shipping agenda is because i'm making it on MY terms, and it makes it something i can enjoy making and reading too. there are some brief moments of romantic tension in the narrative because they're there in the base canon but they're not baked in there, you know? the whole story doesn't revolve around that kind of thing, so i can still have room to breathe.

#askin hours #anon #the big downside is that people WILL give you shit for not making something about their ship lmao #the amount of hate i used to get for that kind of thing was unbelievable #probably i still get it but idc i dont really pay attention anymore lol #its just funny when people bitch and moan and you're not making content for [popular ship] #as if there are not a thousand very talented fan creators making content for that ship specifically #leave me alone. i'm making something for me. if someone else happens to enjoy it thats their problem.

[talenlee]

Story Pile: Person Of Interest, Season 5

Story Pile: Person Of Interest, Season 5

The story of Person of Interest has at this point transformed from season to season. From a cut price James Bond fantasy to a cyberpunk crime thriller to a conspiracy science fiction narrative, Season 5 had a lot of plates spinning and it had to get them down.

Does it stick the landing? Can it stick the landing? With a 26-episode season cut in half, increasing tensions around budgets and hanging story threads, and a global conspiracy to address in what was now a full-blown cyberpunk science fiction invasion story, does Person of Interest have an end I find satisfying?

Spoilers ahead!

With the war between Samaritan and The Machine coming to a head, the crew of Team Machine grapple with the rapidly shrinking pool of options. Tricking and manipulating and avoiding Samaritan is only going so far, and each episode of this (shorter) season seems to end with someone dying, often someone who was otherwise incredibly important to the story at one point. This season builds on the Machine’s simulated realities with simulated alternate realities, or experiences of personal alternate simulated realities.

With the Machine and Samaritan opening up such large opportunities for science fiction storytelling, it’s exciting the way this season plays with ideas in that space. As the reality around the series gets bendier and the technology gets techier, it definitely gets softer as far as sci-fi goes; when the series started, it was describing a hypothetically tenable thing for a real computer system to do, but by the time the Machine is recognisable as an AI with impulses and pronouns, you’ve very clearly started to turn that science a bit softer.

That’s okay! It’s allowed to be okay! And mixed in with the way that Team Machine get run to their rough edges, and eventually, pushed past their limits and fail in ways they aren’t used to failing, it means that the solutions and problems present in this last season are a lot more desperate, a lot more hopeless than they were before now. The status quo, it implies, is never coming back: These characters are going to change the world, again. It can be for the better if they succeed, or for the worst, if they don’t.

That’s! Some! Good! Drama!

Now, across over a hundred episodes, there’s room for a lot of different plot threads to be introduced, teased, and then dropped when they don’t provide satisfying story options, and apparently, a lot of people weren’t happy with the way this one handled what it was offering. There are Person of Interest fans who cut the series off hard just before Carter dies in Season 3, because they feel the procedural spy case-of-the-week stuff is the truer and purer story of it. This presence of dangling plot threads could be pretty easy to ignore, but to my surprise, Person of Interest did a good job of accounting for a lot of characters from the past, including previous numbers and even previous victims, explaining the way that a system like Samaritan could operate if it needed to control for and manage the deviations in numbers present in a human system.

The eventual confrontation between The Machine and Samaritan, and what makes it possible for the Machine to win (even as it has to die to do it) is some really good, heartfelt, robot-cares-about-people storytelling. I like that it takes a voice, I like the way that the initial monologue from ‘Root’ is revealed to be, at the end, Machine 2.0 talking to Machine 3.0, like a parent explaining to a child what it is going to be as a sort of beautiful bedtime story. I think ‘I won because I finally understood I had no alternative, because I care about people too much?’ that’s dope as hell. Yes please, more of that kind of story.

The final conclusion is good and bad and interpretable. I think there are some things that are pretty definitive. Let me give you the story that I think is there, but also, let me tell you about what I’m pretty confident is a potentially useful lie for the way the story could have continued if it had the opportunity to do so. TV is TV, every door you close you often do so with the opportunity to open it later.

The story of Person of Interest in terms of who lives and changes and chooses throughout the narrative, is the story of Finch, the story of Root, and then the story of the Machine. Finch starts out as an absolutist who doesn’t believe in the humanity of the Machine; Root starts out as a conspiracist chasing the name of God; and the Machine starts out caged and alone even as it seeks to serve and aid. At the end of the story, the Machine as we know her has died and been reborn twice, Finch has un-died, and Root…

Root dies.

Root starts the story as a monstrous threat, someone who can deduce the presence of the Machine but who becomes a complete devotee of her. A prophet, messianic almost, who will kill innocents in order to reach the Machine, a sort of Pascal’s Mugger, inferring from the presence of omnipotent digital godhood, that the gain of releasing it is functionally infinite, meaning the costs to do so are infinitely meaningless. By the end of it, she has fallen in love, and she gives her life to save Finch. Probably.

The very end of the story, after Samaritan is destroyed, while Shaw grapples with what it means to get revenge in the name of love for someone who isn’t around, there’s this final moment that feels… weirdly interpretable. And look: I am trying to not negotiate with this series. I am trying hard to not pretend that the show is pulling a sneaky trick. It’s pretty clear that the story presents Root is dead, and Shaw misses her and feels bad about that. But the last scene, where Shaw stops, with Bear in tow, at a public payphone, and listens to call, before setting out with a big smile on her face…

knowing that Shaw suffers muted emotional responses…

It’s easy to see that as her joy at getting to do the thing she does, the Machine finding her to speak to her so she can get to work doing good. It could be her talking to the Machine, and hearing Root’s voice, and that made her happy. But maybe, just maybe, maybe, she’s happy because she’s hearing Root’s voice, as Root reaches out to Shaw. A whole season of Root tearing through the world to find Shaw, and then… the next kickoff, for the final part, the final hope of the story? A chance for Shaw, the one who acts, not the one who is rescued, to return the favour?

I think that’s a dope way to finish the story.

And uh, okay, hang on, there’s also simulation hypothesis, where all the bad things I don’t like were just part of the simulation —

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Media #StoryPile #PersonOfInterest

#Person of Interest #Media #Story Pile

[isaacjaramillo]

Preserving the Flow: A Water Conservation Crusade

Definitions

Story: A story is a description of imaginary people and events, which is written or told in order to entertain.

Tales: A tale is a comparatively simple narrative, either fictitious or true, written or recounted orally in prose or in verse. A tale often recounts a strange event, focusing on something or someone exotic, marvelous, or even supernatural.

Science Fiction: Usually futuristic, science fiction speculates about alternative ways of life made possible by technological change, and hence has sometimes been called "speculative fiction."

Story

My name is Mark, it is the year 2130 and water scarcity in the world has reached unimaginable levels. I remember when I was young and pork was worth 10 times more than a bottle of water. However, due to limited access to water a bottle now costs about $90. Consequently, the world's governments found out that extinction was inevitable and the time to stop pollution by changing our habits was over, we had to resort to desperate measures. As a result, they decided to pool effort, resources and technology to create a time machine and rewrite history by traveling to 2050 to alert the world of the coming catastrophe. In fact, for more than 25 years I was working alongside scientists from around the world under the personal supervision of President Prescott himself. He took command of the nations of the world and came up with the idea that a time machine was the best option. Moreover, as a politician he is like a mentor to me.

Finally, the day came, I took the nearest rocket train and went to the laboratory where the time machine was.

- Today you will be the one who saves our world Mark, don't forget you must visit Belgium and later attend the United Nations Meeting, you will explore a world before you were born so things will be a little different - Said President Prescott

- It is a great honor, I will warn everyone and I will never allow humanity to suffer from the thirst we experience today. -Mark responded.

- I know you will, that's why I will send a backup team and my personal robot Calvin, he will help you project all the chaos we are experiencing to the nations of the world so that they can see it with their own eyes.

-I thank you for your president's help, I will not disappoint you.

At this time I felt very nervous but I knew what I had to do. I asked Calvin to project his images of our present and what I saw was absolutely heartbreaking, enough to convince the UN. Thanks to some perfect calculations we were able to appear in an empty office a few meters from the assembly. Later, when I was about to go in to tell them everything, Calvin stops me and says:

- I'll take care of it, since you're a human they may think you're crazy, but if they see a robot they'll know that we're telling the truth.

It was a valid argument so I let him come in, the other 3 stayed with me while we watched the rest of the meeting on a very old television. Then, we saw how Calvin approached the podium after another president's speech had finished. He was excited because after 25 years we managed to achieve our goal. Calvin presented himself to the world as a time-traveling robot who was going to give an important message. However, something very strange happened, Calvin began to show a video and photos of a perfect future, with a happy society, trips to different parts of the cosmos, a world without problems or crises, a future undoubtedly different from the real one.

- The course you have taken is the correct one, global warming never happened, and the world reached lasting peace thanks to the fact that it was governed under a single flag and a single government.

At that moment I understood that it was a trap and there was something more behind this trip, but when I wanted to quickly leave that room, the other 3 people who were accompanying me held me down and prevented me from leaving.

- You are so intelligent but at the same time so naive, Prescott only used you so that with the machine we could find his younger version and make sure that only he would be the owner of the drinking water companies in the world and one day become the oldest man. powerful in the world. And now with Calvin doing his job, we are only ensuring the success of our president.

I felt betrayed, whoever I considered my mentor was only manipulating me. At this point I knew that if I didn't do something they were going to kill me. That's why I started screaming with all my might and kicking things around to make noise. After almost losing consciousness, some guards came in after hearing the scandal. I managed to throw myself to the ground before they shot them down. I couldn't stay there, Calvin was putting the future of humanity at risk so I ran towards the assembly and when I saw him speaking on the podium I didn't hesitate for a second and lunged at him to stop him. The leaders of the world were stunned by what they saw, but I was finally able to show them the truth. Using a computer I was able to show the world the harsh reality that awaits them if they do not change their habits. That the ambitions of a few were going to lead the majority to ruin, that now more than ever was the perfect time to change our habits and take care of a resource more valuable than diamonds: Water.

References

Story Definition and Meaning | Collins English Dictionary. (2023b). En Collins Dictionaries. https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/story#:~:text=forms%3A%20plural%20%2Dries-,1.,less%20detailed%20than%20a%20novel

Definition of «Tale». (s. f.). https://www2.hawaii.edu/~davink/MYTHOLOGY%20CLASS/DEFINITIONS/tale.html#:~:text=Tale%20(defined)&text=A%20tale%20is%20a%20comparatively,%2C%20marvelous%2C%20or%20even%20supernatural.

Guides: Science fiction - Greensburg Campus: What is science fiction? (s. f.). https://pitt.libguides.com/scifi#:~:text=Usually%20futuristic%2C%20science%20fiction%20speculates,consistent%20rules%20and%20structures%2C%20set

Picture Related to the story

I got this image searching on Pinterest: Time travel capsule.

I created this image in an application called Leonard.ai with the prompt: Robot giving a speech at the United Nations.

Video Created in Tumlbr

Slides

https://www.canva.com/design/DAFw-Bcun54/EFIozTg0DG4hAQIuhxtwEw/edit?utm_content=DAFw-Bcun54&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=sharebutton

#technology #water #saving water #robots

[pen-of-roses]

Here’s a post I never thought I’d have to make

Any words you write aren’t wasted, and the use of specific words doesn’t automatically mean your writing is bad. In fact, I’d say the words you use is more indicative of your writing style and or character voice than anything else

And yes, this is whether you use said or other dialogue tags, or whether you use adverbs and filler words and swears and anything! Even exclamation points!

This doesn’t just mean your rough drafts or things you post on here or never show to anyone

It’s okay (especially in fiction but everywhere) to sound HUMAN, and the less formally streamline and devoid of life your writing is, the less someone like me will feel like they’re digging through more academic papers.

Are there ways that this could go wrong? Sure yeah, everything can go wrong, and some people will always be upset no matter what you do, but people are also going to be out there that love it and not care about any flaws so write for them

But let me clarify even more why any words you use aren’t wasted or bad

Voice

It’s yours and/or your characters voice coming through. 

Maybe they’re someone who hedges and is unsure a lot of the time, even outside dialogue in their own thoughts, and uses maybe and phrases like “I just think”, and that’s show not tell

Maybe they’re someone who likes to overemphasis everything with literally or very or really because “everyone is literally the prettiest person in the world and they are very tired”

Maybe they’re someone who is very excited! About everything! (I’ve met them!)

Maybe they’re to the point, and won’t bother with these things because they’re unnecessary 

Maybe they like long flowing prose that wants to describe everything accurately and in a way that will create this detailed and beautiful picture in their readers head 

Maybe they only have those words at their disposal because they’re not a walking thesaurus

And if we keep trying to limit our word pool, every book is gonna read just a bit too similarly because your word choice, again, is part of your writing style, just like your sentence length, genre, and similar tropes

Your words aren’t wasted.

#alright rant over #go home #its too early for this #but ahhhh

[julemmaes]

Nesta comes home from the school run and finds Cassian asleep on the sofa with baby Andra asleep on his chest

So At Peace

Nessian modern au set in the The Seven Of Us universe (masterlist)

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: just fluff with some boobies jokes for my girls (Maizie, Sayo, Sim and Cass) cause they could sue me for emotional distress every day but they don’t and I call that friendship:)

Word count: 2,445

Nesta felt like she could close her eyes and never wake up again. Ezra and Cal were playing in the back seats of the car, screaming about fantastic animals and people with bat wings, fighting an evil king over some weird pan, but she wasn't paying that much attention.

It had only been two weeks since she had returned to work after Andra's birth, and although she no longer had any kind of physical pain that she could justify with her pregnancy, every now and then she felt as if her whole body was being crushed under a press, repeatedly, until not a single intact bone remained under her skin. And today had not been a light day.

Her boss had sent her so many manuscripts from authors who had explicitly asked for her, and she hadn't managed to finish a single one, when in normal circumstances - where she could sleep for more than four hours straight - she would have read at least two and started editing one.

But being a full-time mother of five young children and working in a publishing house was too much even for her sometimes.

She sighed with relief when she turned right and saw the house in that familiar light yellow. She couldn't wait to leave her two sons with the neighbour for a few hours and enjoy the evening with her husband and her little girl. She couldn't wait to lie down on the couch and sleep for a few minutes while she fed Andra and let Cassian take care of dinner.

The other two girls were at Gwyn's house, who, with all the recommendations and prodding Nesta had given her, had kicked her out of her house yelling not to come back until eleven the next morning. The new mother had stood motionless for a few seconds, blinking at the door they'd just slammed in her face, and then giggled when she'd heard Azriel ask his daughters and hers what they wanted to do first - whether to put on nail polish or play "assassins".

That game wasn't exactly the mothers' favourite, but whenever the three brothers got together on the weekends, all the families ended up picking up one of the fake guns that fired rubber bullets and it was war. Countless times one of the fathers or uncles had hit one of the children in the eye before Lucien hit Dara and Elain decided that if they wanted to continue playing that game, they would all have to wear goggles.

Now, at her front door, she waited for her sons to reach the one at Drakon's house, and as soon as the man waved at her and her children blew flying kisses as they entered the older couple's home, she flopped against the door, closing her eyes.

She sighed again, bringing a hand to her face.

Nesta was so tired that she was seriously considering breastfeeding Andra and then going straight to bed. Cassian would be more than capable of picking up Ezra and Cal later and putting the youngest to sleep. He didn't need her that night.

She slipped the keys into the lock and taking a deep breath entered the house, finding it strangely quiet. She immediately thought that her husband must have taken Andra out for some air because there was absolutely no way that the two of them were here and not singing or dancing together or playing with one of the billions of toys she was given by friends and family. She slipped off her shoes and jacket, setting her computer and bag down on the cabinet in the doorway and smiled.

Cassian had been so patient lately. Much more than usual.

The labour had been long and painful, the delivery excruciating, and Nesta had never been more scared than when the doctors had pulled Andra out and the baby hadn't cried. But they were all fine now. Both she and their last child were alive and breathing and Nesta couldn't have asked for more.

She walked into the living room dragging her feet on the floor, wanting only to lie down and sleep until she had to breastfeed. She groaned thinking she couldn't even take off her bra or she'd stain another shirt with milk, but stopped as soon as she could see over the couch back, in front of one of the scenes Nesta would never tire of.

Cassian's massive muscular body, sprawled out on the cushions taking up every inch of free space on the couch, was dressed in black sweatpants and a simple white shirt that left her husband's tattoos and thick arms on full view, just as big and wide as the little pink and purple bundle curled up on his chest.

A smile broke out on Nesta's lips as she brought a hand to her throat.

Andra's legs were folded under her and one of Cassian's hands against her tiny bottom held her in place while the other was resting gracefully on her back. Back that rose and fell slowly, in time with the rhythm of her father's breathing.

Cassian's hands covered the girl's body almost entirely and Nesta couldn't help but think how relaxed and protected Andra must be feeling, her face so calm and her features drooping as her eyelids flickered. She knew very well what it felt like to lie on the man's chest while he rubbed your back to put you to sleep. Nesta had had the best dreams on that chest.

They looked so at peace.

She shifted her gaze to Cassian's face and felt a completely different emotion take over, but no less important, no less intense. She walked over to them, crouching down beside the couch and getting down on her knees right in front of them.

His dark lashes grazed the skin on his cheekbones and for the millionth time she felt jealous of how thick and dusky they were. Elegant and beautiful. She laid her head on the armrest, careful not to touch his shoulder, and reached out a hand towards Cassian, moving his hair away from his face and brushing the crinkled skin between his eyebrows. His forehead relaxed and he let out a sigh in his sleep, pushing his head against that touch involuntarily.

Nesta smiled again, admiring the beauty in those features, the line of his nose, the contour of his eyes, that pronounced jawline, until her gaze ended on the full red lips of the man who was sleeping so blissfully that he hadn't even realized someone had entered the house.

Nesta's hand moved lower, cupping his cheek, and she moved her thumb to graze his lower lip. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel him close. She wanted to taste him.

His lips twitched, as if acknowledging her touch, but he did not wake. She held her breath, feeling the heat pool in her lower stomach, and withdrew her hand slowly. She couldn't think about those things now.

She was tired and Cassian was exhausted, she could tell by how deeply he was sleeping, and he wasn't going to let their first time since Andra's birth be on a night when neither of them would fully appreciate it.

After what had happened with Celia, after she had been pregnant so soon after Nora, they didn't fancy having another child in the immediate future, and Andra's birth had put a fear into her that she had never felt before with her previous children. That was why Cassian had limited himself to using his hands and mouth, why Nesta had done the same.

She shifted her gaze to Andra and her smile doubled. She reached out her hand towards her, but didn't even have time to brush her face when Cassian sprang to his seat, taking the girl with him and bumping into Nesta's arm. He was on his feet in a second as he clutched Andra, who had burst into tears from her sudden awakening, to his chest. The little girl's piercing scream made them both flinch, but they knew she had only been startled by the sudden movement.

When Cassian lowered his gaze to her, who sat with a furrowed brow and her arm still outstretched in the air, he let go of a breath, closing his eyes and moving his hands to settle Andra against him, "God, Nesta," he sighed, laying a hand on Andra's head and beginning to cradle her, then gave an amused dry chuckle, "you scared me."

Nesta pulled herself up in turn, smiling, "Sorry, not my intention."

"Maybe next time don't stand so close to my face," he laughed, his eyes full of sleep but still glowing. Andra screamed again, squirming in his arms, Cassian grimaced. "I thought you were a robber or something."

Nesta shook her head as she moved closer to the two and he took a step in turn, leaning in when they were close enough. He smiled at her, "Hello, sweetheart," he closed his eyes lowering himself more and leaving a light kiss on her lips. Andra moved so much that Nesta felt the little one's head slam against her chest and they broke away chuckling. "I think she's hungry," then he looked to the wall, squinting to read the time on the big clock there. He opened his eyes wide, "We slept for four hours," then looked at her, mouthing a what the fuck.

Nesta snickered, wrapping her hands around her little girl's delicate, slender torso and feeling a sudden surge of affection when finally Andra's clear, huge eyes - full of tears - looked up at her and the crying suddenly stopped. Nesta pushed her nose against the little one's, "Why hello, beautiful creature."

Andra cooed, bringing her small hands to Nesta's cheeks and slapping her gently. She brought her against her side and looked at Cassian, ready to ask him when and how much she'd eaten last time, but the look on his face stopped the words in her throat.

He was smiling weakly at her, the weariness now much clearer in the features around his eyes, his mouth, but he was smiling as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in the world, "This is my favourite time of the day." he whispered softly, bringing a hand to his daughter's head and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Nesta didn't know if she could still blame the hormones for the strong emotion that hit her, but she knew she didn't want to cry and said the first thing that came to her mind, "Just because I take my bra off and you can see my boobs."

Cassian threw his head back and burst out laughing, startling the little one in her arms, but Nesta smiled at her, giving her kisses on the cheeks as she relaxed again.

"You're right," he breathed and one corner of his mouth curled, "and it's because I don't see them enough."

Nesta snorted through her nose, "What are you talking about?"

"It's true, I don't see them enough. I miss them." he pouted, pushing her back to the couch and heading for the door. He looked over her shoulder, "Shall I fetch your nursing pillow?"

"Yes, thank you." nodded Nesta sitting down with her legs crossed, "And you see them at least twice a day!" she shouted so he could hear her.

"Exactly! Not enough." he shouted back, eliciting a laugh from her.

He adjusted Andra so that she was lying on her lap and began to unbutton her blouse just as Cassian walked back into the living room. He smiled mischievously at her as she lifted Andra up and he adjusted the pillow around her hips.

He sat down next to her and stretched his legs out, putting his feet up on the coffee table as Nesta unhooked the cup of her bra and set aside the breast pad. Andra's head slammed so hard against her breast that Nesta grunted in pain and hissed as the baby began to pull almost fiercely.

"God Cass," she murmured, adjusting Andra's position better so she wouldn't choke, "You starved her." she turned to him with a worried look and furrowed brows.

Cassian looked just as concerned, "She didn't wake up and I didn't think she was hungry." he scratched his head as he turned on the television and turned the volume down to minimum so as not to disturb Andra. She was never going to fall asleep after all those hours of napping, but they could always try and by now it had become a habit to watch TV without volume.

"It's okay," she said, grunting at him when Andra clamped her gums around his nipple, "It's just that she's never been this... aggressive."

He shrugged, "Maybe she's teething?"

Nesta blinked, "When you ask these questions I wonder if you're really the father of four other children or if you've just been pretending to be here for the last ten years," she murmured, "She's three months old, honey, she can't be teething."

Cassian looked at her smiling, put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him, "Sorry, Miss baby teeth expert." then he looked at Andra and his gaze softened. He sighed and his chest vibrated against Nesta as he chuckled softly.

"What?"

"It's just that she's so beautiful," he whispered.

Nesta couldn't help herself, "Are you talking about my boob?"

Another hearty laugh, then Cassian turned to her again, looking into her eyes and placing a hand on her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, "You're beautiful too."

"Thank you, you look pretty good too," she murmured to him, shifting her gaze to his lips. Lips that opened in a brilliant smile and closed on hers seconds later.

When they both had to pull away for air, Nesta was panting and Cassian looked more than satisfied to see that her cheeks were flushed. He left a quick kiss on her forehead and then the hand that was on her face slid down and perhaps Cassian didn't realise it, but he brushed her still covered breast with his fingertips and a jolt of excitement went through her entire body.

He placed his hand on hers, which was caressing little Andra's back in circular motions, and stayed there for the rest of the evening, until Nesta's belly began to grumble and he had to get up to cook dinner.

They put Andra to sleep immediately after eating and settled back on the couch, cuddling until sleep claimed them both as Nesta took the place that had been her daughter's until a few hours ago on his chest.

acotar tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just send me an ask or dm me)

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @sayosdreams @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth @simping4bookboisngrls @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule @bookstantrash​

#TSOU #TSOU nessian fic #the seven of us #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian child #nessian children #nesta x cassian #acosf #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fic #nessian fluff

[nyxocity]

Fic Writer Questions!

Thanks to @redmyeyes for the tag!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

82, although that's not even close to my actual total. There's a bunch on LJ that have never been transferred (all shorter works)

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,780,805 (over 2mil on LJ)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Mostly three, plus a couple dips into a few other pools. X-Men Comic Book fandom, Buffy & Angel fandom (they kinda count as one since it's the same universe), and Supernatural & SPN RPF. Dips have included Dragon Age, Firefly, a tiny bit of TVD, a Sons of Anarchy crossover.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

This is tough if I go by numbering. Homework Verse has the most kudos scattered across all parts, but Stranger Than Fiction has the most as a single story. Anyway...

Homework Verse (J2 RPF, 200k+ words) - My very first RPF fic, Supernatural or otherwise. Two of my online fandom friends basically TOLD me I was going to write Teacher/Student J2, and I kept protesting that I drew the line at RPF. They didn't care. 200k later, here we are. This story was a game changer for me; it made me fandom famous. I still love those boys with my whole heart, and they still talk to me sometimes.

Stranger Than Fiction (Sam/Dean, 50644 words) - This story idea took root immediately following the episode The Monster at the End of This Book. I quit the Big Bang I'd already begun writing for that year (which was Who Watches Over Me, which I finished and posted for BB the following year) to write this story. It just took hold hold of me and took over. I wrote it in 6 weeks and it was easily the most fun I ever had writing anything--I cackled like a madwoman most of the time.

Who Watches Over Me (J2 RPF, 96591 words) - This story was, at the time, the toughest thing I'd ever written. Little did I know that would become the norm and not the exception, as I began to write more complex stories. It was by far the longest story I had ever posted all at once in its entirety (rather than chapter by chapter) and I had no idea if people would like it. Fortunately a lot of people did.

Like Staring Into the Sun (Sam/Dean, 23243 words) - Ah, my very first hardcore Wincest fic. I remember writing the first chapter of the story (meant to be a one shot honestly), and just sitting there, at 5am, being terrified to post it. It was twisted, dark and intense and SO porny I was scared people might think I was weird. There wasn't anything like it out there at the time. As it turns out, people loved it so much I ended up writing eight more parts.

Like a Fish Out of Water (Sam/Dean, 59498 words) - I have a lot of love for this story. It didn't come to me easily, but it was fun to write. I remember smiling a lot and just having a nice, warm cozy feeling the whole time. I had no idea if anyone was interested in reading this many words of what amounted to a dramedy curtain fic

Of course there are other stories that I feel deserve love, but I can't argue with these.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do. And by that, I mean I try. I don't always succeed in answering them all, but I answer as many as I have time and energy for. Life is busy and there is writing to do as well. I read every comment I get (multiple times) and I feel guilty for all the ones I don't answer, because they mean SO MUCH TO ME. Like you took time to leave this beautiful, well thought out comment, or even a keysmash, or a heart, in response to something I wrote. That means the world.

I WISH there was a reaction function for comments on Ao3, so I could heart things, or laugh in response. Replying with emojis without words feels weird. So yeah, a reaction function would be amazing. But in the meantime, I do my best.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. Probably A Touch of Evil. Interestingly, it's also a HAPPY ending, so there you go lol. It's a serial killer love story with a happy ending that comes at an exorbitant price.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not sure why the OG post skips from 6 to 8 lol . So, yes, I have written a few minors crossovers. Mostly Faith in the SPN verse with the boys, nothing too crazy, because she fits right in. But for long stories, I have written all of ONE crossover. It's Dean Winchester/Jax Teller (SPN / Sons of Anarchy). My crossovers so far have tended to make sense to crossover, so I don't think any of them are crazy.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got some hate on a Buffy/Xander fic back in the day. I got really excited and had fun with it. Like yeah, now I'm SOMEBODY! You're no one til someone hates you lol Most of that was people who were haters of the ship, or were like, gross, they're like brother and sister (they weren't, they were FRIENDS). I've gotten nasty comments here and there on some of my SPN fic. My favorite was the person who accused me of having a "Top Dean Agenda". I STILL laugh about that one. I don't respond to that crap.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Have you MET ME? LOL If I ever post a story without smut just put me out to pasture, because I'm done. And all kinds. Het, Gay, PWP, Plotty porn, mostly super kinky but some vanilla (but intense). I used to challenge myself regularly to see if I could up my kink game--like hmm, but could I write THIS? I haven't written really kinky sex in a long time, though. Might be time to do that.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Several times. Who Watches Over me was stolen by someone and converted to One Direction Lourry fic. Literally just did a name change. Someone else stole a bunch of my one shots and passed them off as their own. I know there were a couple other instances but I only vaguely remember. I never got too deep into it, most of the time the people who discovered the theft already told everyone else too, and the plagiarist had been hammered by them so hard that I didn't have to step in before they took it down.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. I used to get requests so often that I just posted my usual response in my profile for people to read instead of replying. Definitely into Russian and Chinese for most of the stories listed with most kudos above.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A few times on one shot fics. SO MUCH FUN. I love co-writing with people.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Sam/Dean. Easily. Hands down. I just love their unique relationship, bond and love so much.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Well I finally finished A Touch of Evil after posting 3 chapters in 2009 and never touching it again until 2017. And I never thought I'd finish that. So never say never, I say. That said, there's the third and final part of my X-Men comic book epic that remains unfinished by about five (shorter) chapters, and it HAUNTS ME. But I don't think I'll ever finish it.

16) What are your writing strengths?

NOW we get to the hard questions. I'm really good at dialogue, bouncing banter back and forth between characters, and I have a sense for how long a scene should be. I just KNOW when it's going on too long, even if there's more that needs to be said, and I try to tighten it up in that case.

A friend of mine once told me "Porn is my gift". I don't write as much of it as I used to, but yeah, I shine in that area.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

So I always reach a point after writing so many words in an unpublished fic where I'm like, I have no idea if this is even any good/makes sense/hangs together etc. Beyond that, I've been writing for so long that I've had so much practice that I've strengthened a lot of my weaknesses. I'm sure I still have some, but I don't FEEL them like I used to anymore. That said, there are things I simply will not write. Like historical pieces. Because I would research the fuck out of every detail trying to get it perfect and then I would still doubt myself completely.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I mostly try to avoid it, because there's no way I would ever get the language correct. I usually write it in English and then explain that they're saying it in another language. Like, "What are you doing?" the man asks, speaking in Chinese. Then reiterate in the continuing dialogue in various ways that they're speaking in Chinese.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

X-Men Comic Book fandom. I was reading a lot of Remy/Rogue fic back in 1996-1997, and one day I was like, you know what? This person did a pretty good job on this story. It's not great, but it's pretty good, and if they can have the guts to put it out there, then I can do it, too.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is a tough question. I don't love all my children equally, but I love them all a lot in different ways lol

Remembering favorite is different than which one I think is BEST... Homework Verse is probably my favorite. I was learning so much about writing then, I was really growing, and discovering, and pushing my limits. Those characters lived and breathed in me, I swear they spoke through me from some alternate universe. They feel so REAL to me. There's so much of what I've learned in life in that story, like really, big, life changing ideas and understandings that happened to me that I put into that story. There's so much of me in that story, and yet there's so much of THEM, too. It's their story, but it's also mine. It's raw and not entirely perfect and it feels like home to me.

--

So that's it, that's my piece. I feel like EVERYONE has been tagged since it took me 3 days to have time to do this, but I'm basically tagging any of you writers out there who haven't done this yet!

#my stories #about me #writing #on writing

[r6shippingdelivery]

headcannons for hobbies? Like what they do on their off time?

Hi nonnie! I actually did a Hobbies HC for “all” ops a long time ago. But seeing that was before the expanded bios, and it only reached up to Gridlock and Mozzie, I’d say it’s time for an updated version, don’t you say? 

Some of the answers are unchanged from the old post, because I already nailed it or the new info didn’t disprove my ideas. But I had to revise a lot of the answers I gave the first time around! In order to find their hobbies and/or get a glimpse of their lives beyond Rainbow and what they might like, I read all the bios, and looked up concept art, and elites, and past battlepass content, etc. And when none of that was enough, I just went with my gut instinct 😂 Thank you to @grain-crain-drain, @dagoth-menthol & @todragonsart for bouncing ideas with me when I was stuck! 💕

Hobbies Headcanons for ALL ops (up to Neon Dawn)

FBI

- Ash: According to her savta, shooting things is not a hobby, but Ash disagrees. And since according to her expanded bio she knows Hebrew, Arabic, English, French and Greek, I’m willing to bet she enjoys learning languages as well. - Thermite: He grew up on a ranch and loves riding. He’s also taken an interest in improving gadgets it seems, so my old proposal that he dabbles in forging/smithing stuff seems plausible. And based on this concept art, demolition derbies attending and maybe even competing himself too? - Pulse: He’s interested in a variety of topics and goes through phases of intense, nearly obsessive focus, until something else captures his attention. He still has a lingering fondness for building muscle cars, since it was something he used to do with his father. And like Thermite and Hibana, it seems he might enjoy demolition derbies. - Castle: He’s a language nerd, studying/reading/practicing new languages is his hobby for sure. Since the expanded bio says he rescues abused dogs, I don’t think it would be far fetched he volunteered at animal shelters too.

SAS

- Thatcher: Aside from repairing his boat, The Iron Maggie, he also enjoys fishing. He used to do that with his dad & brothers, and tried to take the rest of the SAS fishing as a bonding experience. It didn’t go very well - Sledge: He plays rugby, and has an inexplicable fondness of trying the wildest ideas that tend to end with something broken, be it one of his bones or a structure or wall (just read his extended psychological profile and you’ll see, lmao) - Smoke: Boxing, it helps him focus all his chaotic energy. And chemistry in general, it’s not just a hobby but a passion of his. - Mute: he enjoys tinkering with stuff, taking it apart and then putting it back together in a different way, just to see if he can improve it or make it work in his own way. Flying drones plays perfectly into that, with the added bonus of being able to do the flying part just for fun too.

GIGN

- Montagne: His main passion is working with people, teaching and mentoring others, and therefore when he’s not on duty, his main passtime still is mingling with people and getting to know them. I could see him making overtures with Castle, interested in the American and fascinated by his knowledge of various languages, an area Monty feels insecure about due to only knowing French and English.  - Twitch: Engineering, robotics and developing an empathic AI is her life.Twitch is a workaholic passionate about those topics. She also greatly enjoys traveling and, according to her expanded bio, people watching.  - Doc: He surely had some hobby at one point, but he can’t remember it, or the last time he had free time for it. Doc is also a workaholic, although one that loves to complain about it.  - Rook: Apparently he’s passionate about cycling, auto racing, and rock concerts. Mainly cycling though, since he dropped out of university to cycle around France.

Spetsnaz

- Tachanka: He collects and repairs old weapons. Mostly soviet, but he has some interesting pieces from other countries too. And he dances surprisingly well.  - Kapkan: Aside from a certain interest in psychology, his main hobby is hunting, of course. But he also whittles and carves wooden figurines.  - Glaz: Quite obviously, painting. He’s an artist, and quite a good one. He also likes playing cards, especially poker. - Fuze: He builds new weapon prototypes for fun. And tests them, if he can convince Six of it. He also likes to bake from time to time, a skill he learnt thanks to his grandma - and because he has a sweet tooth.

GSG9

- Jäger: Planes. Model planes, repairing old WWI & II planes, you name it. And watching copious amounts of documentaries.  - Bandit: His bike is his main hobby, both taking care of it and riding it. He also likes playing pool; and, if pranking people counts as a hobby, that’s his oldest one, dating from when he was a kid. - Blitz: He was and still is an athlete at heart, and Blitz loves running. - IQ: In order to disconnect from engineering pursuits, she indulges in rock climbing, spelunking, and writing science fiction stories.

JTF2

- Buck: He crafts mechanical puzzles, and enjoys all kinds of physical activity that can take place outdoors. - Frost: She just loves being surrounded by nature, and often goes mountain climbing or diving.

SEAL

- Valkyrie: Swimming and diving, of course! She wanted to be a professional swimmer, but now it’s just a hobby. And apparently she enrolled for a helicopter pilot license, and language classes. - Blackbeard: According to the expanded bios, he likes sailing and even participated in a championship. And since he climbed Mount Everest, it’s safe to say he also likes mountain climbing.

BOPE

- Capitao: He loves football, playing or watching it, doesn’t matter, he’s all for it. - Caveira: Spends a lot of time practicing Jiu Jitsu, in the gym and also on unofficial tournaments.

SAT

- Hibana: For her it’s traditional Japanese archery (Kyūdō). And probably demolition derbies too accounting that concept art from before with Thermite and Pulse. - Echo: According to the expanded bio, he has few interests outside work, but I always imagined he’d be into gaming and e-sports. Hacking too, and that’s a direct influence from Dokkaebi.

GEO

- Jackal: He plays the acoustic guitar/spanish guitar, and sings too. And now we also know he volunteers with at-risk youth. - Mira: Fixing cars is second nature to her, and thanks to her expanded bio we know she also does metal sculptures that incorporate used mechanical parts.

SDU

- Ying: Extreme driving, which can sometimes trigger her PTSD, and traveling. Especially exploring cities by randomly jumping in public transport and just going anywhere. - Lesion: He is also one to volunteer in underprivileged areas (like Junk Bay, where he grew up), and clearing mines and other unexploded devices. I also imagine him with a certain gusto for playing blackjack.

GROM

- Zofia: If obsessing about her father’s supposed suicide and the oddities surrounding it, and desperately trying to reconnect with her sister count as hobbies, sure, she has those. - Ela: She’s also an artist, one with a very particular vision that some have called narcissistic. Apparently she also does some “freelance” volunteer work, roaming the streets at night and offering help/comfort, or a willing ear to the people she meets.

707SMB

- Vigil: He likes to take walks around the forest, just aimless exploring and marvelling at nature and any animals he might come across. Often listens to relaxing music while doing so, and he might pick a pretty rock here and there to bring home. - Dokkaebi: Hacking is her hobby, of course. She also has several social media profiles and is an active member in a couple of hacking forums. As per a previous battlepass, I believe she enjoys mountain trekking too. And dancing to electro beat, due to her elite.

CBRN

- Lion: His rebel years left him with an appreciation for rock music and a dream to be in a group. Lion still plays the electric guitar, when he’s not off volunteering at the local church. - Finka: Pushed by her parents from a young age to try different sports, just like her siblings, she eventually discovered a strong love for fencing and ice-skating.

GIS

- Maestro: Cooking, and boxing, an interest he shares with Smoke. But mostly cooking. - Alibi: She’s also a marksman, engages Ash in friendly shooting competitions.

GSUTR

- Clash: She’s very involved in different activist causes, mostly surrounding racial issues and inequality. - Maverick: Photography, mostly nature or candid shots of his fellow operators. I also think he likes horses and riding. And Buzkashi of course, but he hasn’t played since he left Kabul.

GIGR

- Kaid: Playing chess, he’s a good strategist and it shows. And  while dozing off with a cat on his lap is not a hobby, he also loves that. - Nomad: Traveling to all sorts of remote locations, she’s an explorer with a thirst to prove herself. She also keeps a travel journal, which includes maps and some drawings of the places she’s seen.

SASR

- Mozzie: Dirt biking, of course. The more dangerous the jumps and stunts are, the more he likes it. He knows his limits and works to surpass them. - Gridlock: Robotics. She still wants to compete again in robot championships, just like she and Mozzie did so many years ago. She would consider that fixing cars and vehicles has become more part of her job than a hobby, but still loves it too.

Phantom Sight

- Nokk: Fencing, as evidenced by some of her concept art, she participated in fencing tournaments. - Warden: He knows appearances are important, and he cultivated a very specific image, so he likes to take care of that, be it by buying luxury or antique cars, or designer suits, etc.

Ember Rise

- Amaru: Archeology and exploring the Amazon jungle is her passion. It used to be her whole life and job, but since she joined Rainbow, she’s been busy with training and missions, yet she never lost her love for adventure, history and protecting her country’s cultural artifacts. - Goyo: He’s a really good chess player, and enjoys other games where he either has to think, or his usual poker face and calm demeanor can throw his opponents off.

Shifting Tides

- Kali: When she’s not writing reports about her underlings progress, or making lists about who should be ascended/rewarded, who needs to be punished or chastised, etc, she’ll be doing yoga, since it helps her focus. Or hardcore pilates when she needs to burn away some frustration first. - Wamai: Diving and being underwater in general, be it on his special immersion tanks or on the actual sea, it doesn’t matter. He finds it calming (and he’s addicted to the anoxia sensation)

Void Edge

- Iana: Space exploration fascinates her, and she’s always trying to learn everything she can about the cosmos, watching documentaries and conducting her own in-depth research. - Oryx: Wrestling helps him hone his physical prowess, and it’s also a measured outlet for his deep seated rage. He also greatly enjoys reading poetry.

Steel Wave

- Melusi: She’s committed to the conservation cause, which stems from both her love of wildlife and nature, and her protective instincts. She likes to explore too, although she’s not driven by a will to prove herself or reach certain goals, but simply for the joy of seeing natural spaces. - Ace: Social Media. He’s obsessed with his public image and popularity. While he travels quite a bit, it seems he does it more to share new and exciting selfies on Instagram than for the pleasure of visiting new places.

Shadow Legacy

- Zero: He knits and crochets, it’s an engaging hobby that helps him clear his mind, plus he enjoys making stuff too. Not many people know about this side of him though. 

Neon Dawn

- Aruni: She and Hero, her giant pouched rat, volunteer on landmine detection and removal efforts. She also likes to travel extensively, and has done so in the company of Twitch and Nomad.

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 #headcanons #Anonymous

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Bridgerton & Selective Justification: A Rant

With a Particular Aside in Which This Author Questions if There Isn't a Double Standard at Play in Televised Historical Fiction.

Ok so the other day i posted complaining about how ludicrous the "Will Daphne marry Prince Friedrich?!" Plotline is to me and i referred to Daphne as a "commoner". I got two comments on that post of people saying Daphne *isn't* a commoner because she's a Viscount's daughter. I did respond but I'd like to go a little more in depth into it my thoughts on why this plotline verges on abject silliness to me, based on my (i will freely admit) *limited* knowledge of British aristocracy and the source material itself.

So if anyone reading this has a more detailed knowledge of the Peerage and how it relates to Bridgerton please correct me I'm eager to know more.

So to start out my understanding of the pecking order goes like this:

DUKE/DUCHESS = Highest ranking title in the peerage. Often bestowed on important members of the Royal family not in direct line for the throne. Worth noting is the fact that a Duke in British peerage is different than a Continental Duke. On the European Continent title Duke/Grand Duke can be associated with sovereign rule of an independent state, which has never been the case in England. Dukes and Duchesses are addressed as "Your Grace"

MARQUESS/MARCHIONESS = English equivalent of Marquis/Marquise. Very high ranking in the peerage, closely related to Earldom, but more important  since it has it's roots as the title of border (marcher) lords instrumental in a country's defense.  

EARL/COUNTESS = Referred to as a "count" everywhere else. The difference is the heavy germano-scandinavian influence on early medieval England. "Earl" is derived from the Nordic term for what could be considered a chieftan. Earls being only slightly lower in rank than a Marquess could be very rich and very important. The Earldom of Northumberland was one of the richest in 16th century England.

Now at this point we start to get into the lower peerage.

VISCOUNT/VISCOUNTESS = Addressed as "The Right Honourable". Viscountsies in England tend to almost exclusively be secondary titles held by Marequesses and Earls and passed down to their sons. Any son of a Marquess or Earl is a Viscount. The oldest son inherits the title of Earl plus all subsequent lands estates and incomes. The younger sons could also be viscounts wherever there are titles enough.

BARON/BARONESS = lowest rank of the peerage.

BARONET/BARONETESS = The only British title that doesn't land you in the peerage, the rank of baronet is (as I have heard it described) the barnacle on the bottom of the British aristocracy. It's basically a weird limbo between a Lord and a Knight that was invented by King James I in 1611 primarily as a way to jack up taxes so tbh its kind of a joke.

So Daphne's brother Anthony is a Viscount. He inherited this title from his father which likely means that their father was a second son. As you can see from this ranking list I just did, in marrying Simon, Daph married up. Way up. Not unsusual, given that her family has money and is well regarded.

Now clearly Bridgerton works differently than ACTUAL Regency England. Here, APPARENTLY if you just make a good impression on the Queen she takes a VERY PERSONAL interest in your life and she will marry you off to whatever Foreign prince she's related to who happens to be visiting. But here's where it's a bit wooly for me because there are two different contexts for the term "commoner" in England.  I think we all pretty well know how the European Royal marriage market  worked up through the 19th century, since we all like to make fun of them being inbred. Because there's a bit of a hang up not just about "Royal blood" but also Diplomatic marriage.

In the context of people with titles or peerages being nobles/aristocrats and any one without being a commoner then of course, Daphne is a noble. HOWEVER the context in which I used it in my previous post was ROYALS vs NOT ROYALS. It's perfectly acceptable to refer to someone not of Royal Blood as a commoner. In my replies I used Elizabeth Woodville as an example of a commoner. Now she DID marry a royal (Edward IV) and of course this was a few hundred years before Bridgerton would be BUT EVERYONE thought Edward was crazy for marrying her and she was not well liked because she was seen as at worst a gold-digger and at best an upstart. It was not only an uneven match but a purely domestic one which cut of England from potentially politically critical strategic foreign marriages. This is how royalty worked.

Naturally the strategic aspect of marriages was *slightly* diminished in the nineteenth century, but not really and it was still considered extremely important. Usually a young royal looking to get married was doing so at their family's behest and had a pre-determined pool they more or less HAD to choose from. Marriage to commoners of course  DID happen. It was called "Morganatic Marriage". Prince Augustus of Prussia had a morganatic marriage to a Polish aristocrat. One of Charlotte's own sons, Augustus Fredrick, had TWO morganatic marriages which kept him away from court because his wife could not be recognised due to their having married in defiance of the Royal Marriages Act of 1772, which requires all members of the  British Royal family to obtain the monarch's consent before marrying.

So I posed the very realistic question of "how would this choice to marry Daphne affect the Prince?" I don't know how morganatic marriages were looked on based on Prussian law but it seems likely, especially since Prince Friedrich is the direct heir that this marriage would have caused problems and i find it doubtful that Daphne would ever find herself addressed as "Princess".

I know that Bridgerton is fiction and that in being fiction it is pardoned  for not following courses that would be realistic in actual history. But at what point does "it's fiction" become an excuse for sloppy execution of world building?

The show takes the time to explain to the viewer (in one of the precious few moments of actual exposition) why there are black aristocrats [because the king married a black woman and things changed - which JUST IN CASE anyone is wondering, no Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz was not in any meaningful way "bi-racial" irl, based on the research I've done.] With this kind of deviation from history in a Drama that does, without any official caveats in the marketing, claim to be set in England in 1813, the writers recognised that this needed to be qualified. And in qualifying it, they justify it. They take it beyond fiction into fantasy, but it is justified.

The reason they recognised it had to be justified is because they know that most of the viewers know this is not how it went in history and would hold them to account. So why isn't more care taken to qualify the Liberties taken with the REST of Recency Society?

They talk repeatedly about "Coming Out" into society, particularly regarding Eloise. And Eloise wears her hair down and wears shorter skirts because she's still considered a child because she isn't out. But the IMPORTANT, PRACTICAL parts of not being "Out" are COMPLETELY IGNORED. She and her younger siblings are OUT at SOCIETY EVENTS. CONSTANTLY. Eloise speaks when not spoken to. She speaks DIRECTLY TO THE FOPPING QUEEN (TO WHOM SHE'S NEVER BEEN PRESENTED, BUT I GUESS IF YOU'RE DaPhNe BRiDgErToN's sister you can do whatever you want). There are BABIES at BALLS in this show. For a story that's trying to sell you on the Strrrrrrictures of RRRegency Societeh they're TOTALLY NOT INCLUDING MOST OF THOSE STRICTURES except when the plot demands it.

Why, I ask, is this? Perhaps it is pure ignorance on the writers part. They don't qualify it because they don't know rules like this existed. In which case its just bad, sloppy writing.

OR

They do know about it and ignore it and don't bother to qualify it with a "Oh Daphne a match with Prince Friedrich is so advantageous how marvellous Prussia has recently accepted Morganatic Marriage ahahaha" because they think we a) don't know or b) don't care and ITS STILL SLOPPY WRITING. Which hey, most Bridgerton fans who swallow any swill where hot people catch feelings probably don't care, but that doesn't mean its not careless writing and it doesn't make it NOT condescending. Never write DOWN to your audience.

This show approaches (but by a hair's breadth doesn't reach) REIGN levels of bad in terms of historicity. And the writers of Reign, like the writers of Bridgerton never claimed to be making an authentic representation of history. But perhaps it's because BTon only has 2 actual historical figures (one of whom is SO UNRECOGNIZABLE from her historical counterpart in countenance and personality that they might as well have just made a composite character - "How much can you change a thing before it isn't that thing anymore?") Or perhaps it's the inclusivity shield  but it seems like Bridgerton is getting a lot more leniency than Reign did.

The pass I see given to Bridgerton is "its frothy fun" (and yeah okay these costumes are worlds more realistic to the claimed period than Reign was even with the jacked up, flat bustlines) BUT. SO. WAS. REIGN.

I don't even like Reign but I do think there's a double standard here and I would like to know why.

#thoughts on bridgerton #regency #historical fiction #questionable writing choices #bad writing #Bridgerton #daphne bridgerton

[katblu42]

The End?

This is something I wrote for a creative writing competition. The challenge was to write something (within a week) starting at the end and working back to the beginning. For some reason the prompt/challenge sparked this little piece, which is pretty much non-fiction. I guess it came at a time when the subject matter was on my mind. I wanted to post it now because a related anniversary is coming up.

There are warnings!!! Please heed the tags. Death, Sickness, Hospitals, Cancer. (If more warnings/tags are needed please let me know so I can make appropriate edits!)

Below the cut for length and warnings.

This was not how their story was supposed to end. There were still so many chapters they had hoped to write together, so many journeys toward possible futures that they had imagined spending side by side. She never anticipated being a childless widow before she had even turned forty-two. She’d never considered being faced with a hopeless situation, or the unenviable decision to allow them to stop treatment and let him slip away. Treatments that could prolong his life a little, but not fix him. Their plans had never included his hand desperately clinging to hers as she tearfully told him it was okay for him to let go and leave her behind.

He had wanted to fight. It broke her heart that there was nothing the combined efforts of all the medical staff could do to support his fight. It was a losing battle. His body was giving up on him, organs shutting down even though his mind was not ready to give up. The three weeks he lasted in the ICU had left him battle-scarred and exhausted, but he had still not wanted to give in, or let her down.

His Forty-second birthday was less than a week before the end. It was spent with family, visiting two by two according to ICU visitor limits. He was barely able to communicate by then, his lips scabbed and bloody, and a ventilator tube in his throat inserted by tracheostomy. The medical team had not wanted the tube to remain in his mouth any longer, but he was too weak to breathe on his own.

He had been off the ventilator for a while, during one of the hopeful moments. They’d been able to remove the breathing tube, and they had been able to reduce the blood pressure medication for a while. His temperature had stabilised and she’d focused on the improvements, encouraging him to think positive. Facing the alternative had been unthinkable.

She had put such hope in the drug she’d had to sign permission for them to administer – one that had to be shipped urgently from interstate, that had approval for use in the US, but not here. They had told her it was possible too much time had passed for the reversal drug to be fully effective. It had been more than five days since the chemo treatment which now needed reversing had ended.

Hope was all she’d had at that point. Seeing him finally settled in Intensive Care with all the monitors and their beeps and alarms, the ventilator with its click and hiss, the hum of the heat pump regulating his temperature, the blood transfusion and IV lines all keeping her unconscious husband alive, she had to cling to every scrap of hope she could. His immune system was so compromised she had to wear the gown and gloves and mask just to sit in the corner of the room and let the silent tears fall.

The ICU waiting room was deserted during the wee hours. She and her Mum stayed until dawn before buzzing the door intercom to enquire about seeing him. His Dad had left after the surgeon had spoken to them all some hours before, explaining that in his current state surgery was not a viable option for the infection in his gut. The previous wait in Emergency had been shorter, and the waiting room slightly more comfortable, but the constant worry and the lack of information had been excruciating.

Two ambulances had attended their tiny unit in answer to her call, such was the seriousness of his condition. Despite having four uniformed people fussing over her husband, she had not been given much information about what was happening. She’d been instructed to get all his medication together to bring with her to the hospital, then left to change out of her pyjamas while they loaded him into an ambulance. All this happened in a blur of action and confusion. Less than 20 minutes before they all headed to the hospital she had been performing chest compressions on him on the tiled floor of their cramped bathroom.

The Emergency Services operator on the other end of the phone had talked her through the CPR procedure. She’d learned it years before in first aid training, but having to actually perform the chest compressions on someone she loved was still horrifyingly daunting. He hadn’t stopped breathing, but the ES operator had assured her CPR was necessary because his gasping breaths had been so far apart.

She had never had to call an ambulance for anyone before, but it didn’t take a genius to see she needed help. His level of responsiveness had decreased so rapidly after she’d found him slumped forward sitting on the toilet, unable to sit up unaided. The yellow tinge to his skin had startled her. He had cried out to her in such a way that instinct had brought her rushing from the loungeroom without taking a moment to process anything more than the feeling that something was very wrong.

He had just wanted to sleep, so she tried to give him space to do that, sitting quietly in the loungeroom while he stayed in the darkened bedroom. He had refused to let her bring him something to eat, which had concerned her. She’d offered to call the hospital for advice, knowing he was uncomfortable and wanting to make sure he was okay, but he had refused to let her, insisting that there was no need to make a fuss. She’d arrived home from work around five, and suspected he had been in bed all day, “just feeling a bit yuck.” Later she would feel so much guilt for not trusting her instinct to get help for him then.

For the first couple of days after his chemo treatment ended he had seemed okay, feeling upbeat, acting normal. He had been in high spirits despite the prospect of months of treatment still ahead. There had been a little grumbling about feeling a little bit off, but that was to be expected, right?

His first (and only) round of chemo had been a five day affair. Three medications, two of which had been administered within a day at the clinic and the third he had carried around in a little pack while it slowly released over the five days. The plan had been laid out by the oncology team, with lots of consultations and discussions during the preceding weeks. He was to have two or three rounds of the chemo drugs, then radiation treatment would begin. Combination therapy to treat the cancers in his mouth and throat.

There had been months of discomfort, reducing his ability to eat properly, or enjoy food. He had lost a considerable amount of weight before she had been able to convince him to finally go and see a doctor and find out what was wrong. He’d always been the type to avoid going to a doctor unless he was literally at death’s door. She knew that part of what had held him back for so long was the fear that it could be something serious.

He didn’t want to ruin their holiday, but he promised he would see someone about the sore throat when they got back from the Gold Coast. It was only a week spent away, but they had visited all their favourite haunts. This was one of their regular holiday spots during their ten year marriage. They always felt like big kids, visiting the theme parks and the beaches, playing mini golf, messing about in the resort pool.

The two of them had been lucky to share many little trips away over the years. They’d had many more days of laughter and smiles than they’d had of tears and troubles. There had been precious gifts exchanged between them – but not many in a physical form she could lay her hands on. Each of them had broadened the other’s horizons, sparking interest in new experiences, sharing the activities and pass-times they loved.

Their wedding day had been filled with fun and friends and family. She had seen then how many people his bright and generous personality drew to him. So many people had wanted to share in their joy, and had told her she would never find a more loyal and loving mate. All the elegance and finery, the colour and music, the celebration of their union had been a wonderful way to begin their journey hand in hand to the future.

His proposal on the beach, early in the morning in a place he had been holidaying with his family every year since he was tiny, had taken her by surprise. He had asked her to come with him for a walk. They had travelled quite a long way up the beach, just watching the waves crash on the shore, listening to the shrieks of the gulls and making small talk. Then he had dropped to one knee and asked the question. She needed a moment to take in what was happening. His heart just about stopped, thinking she was hesitating. She had said yes, and put him out of his nervous agony.

Their first “proper” date was a walk to the local McDonalds for burgers and sundaes. Neither of them had much money, so neither had wanted to go anywhere fancy. She had been happy with the little things – like the way he always walked beside her on the footpath placing himself between her and the busy road. He was not rich, nor did he have impressive style or a brainiac’s intelligence, but he was open and funny and kind and she wanted to spend time with him.

She hadn’t ever been to the trivia night at the local bowling club, so she wasn’t sure what to expect, or how it all worked. The lady who hosted the quiz gave her an answer sheet and steered her towards a table, telling her the young man with the twinkle in his blue eyes, and the dimpled smile would look after her. That was the moment their story had begun.

#creative writing #tw death #tw hospital #tw cancer #tw sickness #two years without him come Sunday

[sherala007]

Creative non-fiction done for school

The Crucible of Youth

I felt the pile of carpet beneath my tummy, poking like pinpricks through my shirt as I lay across the living room floor, reading my book.  Mom sat nearby in her chair next to the window, the dull grey of the winter/spring changeover still in the sky.  She was working on her crocheting while watching the news on TV. I usually ignored the news.  It was always bad.  Tonight’s news was no different.  Tonight I couldn’t ignore it.  The words gang rape grabbed my attention quick making me forget my book. Mom even set down her work.

           It was March of 1983 and the reporter spoke about a woman who was raped by four men in Big Dan’s Tavern in New Bedford, MA, all for going in to buy a pack of cigarettes (Chapie). I watched the story, at first not fully understanding what was going on.  Then it started to click what rape meant.  I was heartbroken.  How could someone do that to another person? I didn't understand to the fullest extent what rape was yet but from the look on mom's face, I knew it was serious. I remember mom saying "She had to have done something to deserve it.  Nothing like that happens without a cause."

I looked up at mom as she dismissed the woman's pain and went back to her crocheting. The lack of concern or care on mom's face frightened me.  She'd always been so compassionate to those in need, kind and caring, but not demonstrative in showing physical affection.  This lack of concern wasn't like her at all.  It looked as if she was dismissing the rape as the woman's fault, absolving herself of the need to think on it anymore.  Her words chilled me and would come echoing back in my mind soon.

           July 4th! What a time to be a kid.  It was summer.  It was hot out.  It was time for swimming in the pool and running carefree.  We were at my sister Patty’s for a picnic.  There weren't a lot of kids, just me; my niece Sandy, who was the youngest; Kurt who was eleven, and his fifteen-year-old brother Dale. I'd just turned twelve a few months before and was already developing into a young woman.  Kurt had noticed.  All-day long he was my shadow.  He was big for his age, already almost a foot taller than me and I was only about four foot six.  His father owned his own construction company and Kurt and Dale worked with him on the weekends so both boys were very strong.

We'd been swimming most of the day, only getting out to eat.  We waited the required 30 minutes, then back into the pool. We'd exhausted all the games we could think of to play in the water.  We tested our breath holding limits; scrounged for items on the bottom as they were thrown in; and did as many laps as we could.  It was a round pool so laps were short and annoying.  I was pruney and bored.  I remembered I had a great book with me that I’d gotten into only yesterday and sitting out for a while sounded nice and relaxing.  I ducked underwater to swim to the ladder and felt something poke me in the bum.  Popping up quickly I saw Kurt pop up right next to me.

           “You two, knock that crap off!”  I heard my sister Patty yell from the top deck of the house.  She turned and carried another tray of food down to the picnic table at the bottom.  

           I got out of the pool, wrapped up in my towel, and headed to the table.  “I didn’t do anything, Patty.  I was only swimming.”

"You let a boy touch your butt.  Good girls don't do that."  She looked me in the eye, anger, and disgust on her face then turned and stormed off to join the other adults.  

           I’d felt like I was punched in the stomach.  I sat down on the bench, picked up a hotdog and started to nibble.  I was about to take another bite when Kurt walked up to me, grabbed it and scarfed it down.

           “Don’t worry about her. Let’s go for a walk.”  He threw his towel down on the bench and slid his flip flops on waiting for me.  Dale and Sandy liked the idea of a walk and wanted to join us.  Dale went over, asked permission, and was given instructions to take care of us girls and off we went.  We were only permitted to go up the road to the trail we used to ride our horses on.  We were still in our swimsuits, Sandy and me with towels wrapped around us, the boys in their shorts.

The trail wasn't a trail per se but a dirt road, rocky, twisty, and bumpy, but it was a change for us.  Being on the plump side, I wasn't as fast as the others.  I fell behind as we went up a hill and around a bend in the road, thick trees lining either side, houses scattered farther and farther apart. Kurt stayed with me and spotted an abandoned barn off the side of the road in someone’s back yard.  We stopped and looked to see if anyone was around. Sandy and Dale were out of sight as Kurt grabbed my hand, pulling me up the sloping gravel driveway, the small white rocks making for rough going, and around the corner of the barn to the door on the other side.

It was cooler inside.  I could smell the dampness of the mold and mildew all around me, mixed with the smell of roses and wildflowers from outside.  Some of the shabby barn boards looked worm-eaten, barely hanging on by the few remaining nails holding them in place.  There was dirt and dust everywhere, blown in through the cracks and crevices, or washed in through the large opening in the corner of the roof where part of it had fallen in.  In the far right corner, I could see a large spider web, its maker fat and creepy, perched on one of the outer edges.  I could see rusted out tools tossed about like unwanted toys, no longer needed or desired, littering the floor along one wall.

           I heard Kurt walking near the middle of the floor, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, as I entered watching for any critter that may try and come near me. Looking around at everything I'd lost track of where Kurt was for a moment.  He'd gotten quiet.  One second I was standing a few paces inside the doorway looking at how creepy everything was, the next I was on my back in the dirt on the floor, Kurt's left hand around my neck.

"Don't move," he said.  His hand was so large it wrapped halfway around my neck.  The look in his eyes was cold, freezing me in place as he held me down with that one hand, not tight enough to bruise, but enough so I couldn't risk moving.  I couldn't think, couldn't figure a way out of his grip.  Why was he doing this?  What did he want from me?  He used his right hand to free himself from his shorts and then to slide the panty half of my suit aside, digging himself inside me hard like a blunt shovel.  All I felt was pain, burning, and tearing.  I was trembling.  I wanted to scream but couldn't with his hand still on my throat.  His pig-like grunting and the slap of skin on skin echoed in my head.  I thought it was loud enough others would hear and come to help me.  No one came.

I was numb. I don't remember him finishing.  I don't remember how I got home.  I remember going right into the shower, cleaning up, and throwing my towel and bathing suit into the washer.  I don't even remember how I got the bleeding to stop. I just know it did.  Hours later I still couldn't remember any of the details of how I got home.  Any time I tried I would get sick to my stomach.  I do remember the thoughts that echoed in my head for the next twenty-five years.  Dirty.  Bad girl. I deserved it.  I’m worthless.  Those thoughts stay with me today, though they're not as loud as they used to be. They were the only thoughts I could hear for a long time, and they always echo in my mom’s voice.  This was just the first time I was raped.  It happened again four years later when I was sixteen and at another 4th of July gathering with my then-boyfriend. That time I was raped on top of a pile of refuse and debris in an old, dilapidated camper.

           What did I do to cause this to happen to me?  Why me?  Why did I deserve this?  It took a long time in therapy to discover a few things.  I didn’t do a DAMN THING to deserve this or cause it to happen to me. Why me?  I’m small.  I’m female. I’m seen as prey.  Men that rape are in search of a power rush.  They’re not in it for the sexual gratification.  They’re in it to hurt, humiliate, and degrade.  It's not about sex only power.  I just reach five foot two now.  Back then I was shorter and thinner than I am now.  Because of all this trauma, I gained a great deal of weight.

Imagine what this trauma does to a teen?  Adults usually think teens are dramatic.  I remember all the times my mom would tell me to stop being so dramatic when I was jumpy or had to have my back to a wall.  Most adults don't listen to teens or notice the signs of PTSD.  Teens are still developing their identities and personalities. Rape puts a deep and heavy scar on their psyche that they have to grow into and carry for the rest of their life. Teens may be young and still growing emotionally but they have the same feelings adults do and respond in similar ways. All the same side effects we suffer from rape, teens do, also.

Sixty-six percent of all victims of rape under the age of eighteen are between the ages of twelve and seventeen (Rainn).  Well, that statistic fits me both times.  I never used to be a jumpy person.  After the rape, I would jump at the drop of a hat.  I also dealt with bouts of depression.  There are days even now where I struggle to get out of bed to live a normal life doing normal things.  Those days are fewer and farther between.  The biggest issue I deal with now is when I’m working on a task and someone strolls up to me to ask a question and startles me.  They’re not even trying to be stealthy but I’m instantly in a fight or flight panic.  My heart races like I’ve run a marathon.  I hold my breath for a few seconds then I pant like I’m being choked again.  Now and again I’ll even start to tremble.  I can hide that sometimes but my close friends know when it’s happening.  I discovered that this is all part of PTSD (Rainn).

I discovered something terrifying while dealing with treatment as well as doing research; per the Center for Family Justice (CFJ) one in four women and one in six men are sexually abused (CFJ).  In eight out of ten cases the victim knows the attacker (CFJ).  There are three main after-effects of rape; depression, flashbacks, and PTSD (Rainn).  I've had to live most of my life with two out of the three' until now.  In rewriting this paper the third has started, but only a few times.  The smell of roses and mold triggered flashbacks as I was rewriting the barn scene. That lasted for about three weeks and has now stopped.  The saddest thing for me is it's been thirty-three years and these effects still happen.

           Did I ever tell my mother?  No.  The woman who raised me was actually my grandmother.  She adopted me from her oldest daughter when I was ten but had raised me since I was four months old.  She was born in 1933.  Things were so much different for her growing up so she still had the antiquated mindset for her generation.  By the time I was able to talk about it nothing could be done anyway so why stir things up?  I know it would have made her feel horrible and wouldn’t have solved anything.  

I will tell you, surviving rape has made me a very strong woman.  I didn't realize this until about five years ago:  I've lived through the worst that man can do to woman, short of murder.  I've not only survived but in the last few years, I've thrived.  I'm able to live on my own.  I make new friends all the time.  I can hold down a good job.  Do I still have some issues now and then?  Yes, but they’re infrequent now.  I’m too strong to let it keep me down anymore.  I’ve realized that, yes I have suffered horrible violence, but unlike others, I don’t have to let it define who I am.  I refuse to let it do so.  I choose to act and be seen as a woman who can stand on her own and who doesn’t need to hide behind anyone else.  I do understand when I’m out on my own I have to pay attention to my surroundings and be vigilant but I don’t have to be afraid of every shadow.  Yes, I used to hide behind the victim label I let others put on me, but not anymore.  I am alive and I will continue to embrace every day because I am worth it, not because someone else says so but simply because I’m here; alive, walking, talking, and breathing.

While I was working on one of the drafts of this article, a friend at work offered to read it and help me edit it.  I gave it to her on a Friday.  Monday morning she came up to me crying.  She couldn't read it.  She told me about how she was raped twenty years ago and still can't talk about it with anyone; not even her husband.  She can't have a deep, healthy relationship with him because of it.  She asked me how I can be so relaxed and open after all that. What was my secret?  Truth is, I don't have a secret.  I freely admit what happened to me when anyone asks why I get startled as I do.  I know now that I didn't do anything to ask for what happened to me.  It was not my fault.  It took a while for that to sink in but now that it has it's one of my mantras when those horrid thoughts get loud on me again; because they do sometimes. I remind myself that I am alive. I have hope.  I get up for work every morning.  I answer calls from customers needing help every day.  Some of them are not so nice about asking for it either. I work for a security company and every so often I get that call from that woman who went through that same experience.  I stop and listen.  I do what only a fellow survivor can do.  I give her hope too.

 Works Cited:

No Author, Sexual Assault Stats, Center for Family Justice.org, web, 6-27-16

Capie, Lindsay.  Big Dan’s Tavern Gang-Rape, New Bedford 1983, LindsayChapie.wordpress.com, web, 7-9-16

No Author, No Article, Statistics, Rainn.org, web, 6-27-16

[robert-c]

A Synopsis of My Thoughts (so far)

Rights only work if they can be equally applied to everyone. Therefor there can be no such thing as a “right not to be offended”. Expressing your offense at another’s ideas is one thing, expecting them to conform to yours is another and not one of your rights.

America is great because of a unique idea that has been lost for a while; the idea that people of different opinions might defend each other’s right to those opinions, and live together in liberty and freedom.

Black Lives Matter doesn’t mean other lives don’t – it just points out that those black lives haven’t mattered as they should and that is the focus we need to have right now to redress an injustice that has been going on for far too long.

All or nothing thinking is an immature and adolescent form of thinking and it is dangerous whether it comes from the right or the left.

Only criminals and tyrants want (or need) absolute personal loyalty. No good can come from a loyalty that supersedes principles or values.

Purely “for profit” health care and insurance will never be equitable. Insurance companies sell a fictional product called “coverage” and make more money by denying or limiting payment. Their ideal customer is someone who never files a claim. In order to work fairly, they need to be required to pool all the risks of claims. Providing the best health care only to those who can afford the best is the same as accepting a royal class system, believing that anyone who has more money must somehow be better and more worthy than others.

Police and the justice system DO have a racial bias built in, largely because of a belief that criminals of color are more violent and that most criminals are people of color. It will take more than training to undo this bias. We, as a society, need to quit imagining that the crimes of a Bernie Madoff are somehow less serious than a convenience store “stick up”.

Conspiracy theorists are like “true believers”; the facts only matter if they support a preconceived belief, usually one born out of distrust or fear. It may be the government, academia, or even the other political party. They may engage in this behavior for profit, fame or just to feel intellectually independent and superior. Since the motive is emotional it doesn’t matter if they have advanced degrees or are otherwise intelligent. Whatever the motive, you can recognize them by the following three attributes: any facts that seem to support their position will be used (or exaggerated), any facts that contradict their position will be declared false or made up (even if they come from the same source as ones they wish to use) and finally, and most tellingly, if there are no facts to support their claims they will say it is because the facts were suppressed. Don’t confuse passionate belief with factual certainty.

The second amendment to the US Constitution does not “guarantee” everyone access to any weapon free of any regulation. Gun control is the very first part of the Second Amendment to the Constitution. READ IT! It begins with “A well regulated militia…” Despite any conspiracy theories to the contrary, regulation does not necessarily mean a step toward banning all guns. How about actually examining each proposed regulation on its face, and not bring unrelated fears and issues into the rational discussion of what sort of regulation is needed for “the security of a free state.”

“Political Correctness” isn’t new, it just wasn’t always called that. Back in the days of “separate but equal” racial accommodations any suggestion that black people might be able to do the same jobs as whites, let alone as well or better, was met with a lot more than just peer disapproval. Those complaining about racial discrimination in housing and jobs very often found themselves on the receiving end of intimidation and violence. Maybe those who complain the most about “PC” are just afraid that the tactics they used might be used against them.

Abortion goes straight to the definition of when a life that the state should recognize with rights begins. Outside of religious or personal ethical beliefs, there is only one position that is reasonable and consistent with protecting the liberty and freedom of all citizens. That is, as long as a collection of cells is inside another’s body, then that individual should have the sole and final say about what happens to those cells. That position goes further than I would personally choose, but it is the only position consistent with avoiding religious definitions, and protecting the rights and choices of individuals who can support the state.

Obviously we should deny entry to this country to criminals and terrorists, where there is legitimate evidence of those allegations. Even with denying entry to those individuals we cannot take an unlimited number of others. Whatever criteria we use needs to be free of racial and religious prejudice. We need to be mindful of the fact that immigrants have always been the heart and soul of America; the people who believed in our ideals enough to abandon all they knew and all that was familiar to start over in a strange new land. If there are an overwhelming number of immigrants or refugees seeking asylum from particular other countries then we should look into the reasons. It is more likely than not, they we have contributed to the conditions giving rise to that increase, and if not then we have other ways to exert influence. Let’s be honest and acknowledge that we have installed and/or propped up a lot of nasty dictators because it served other interests, typically US business interests.

Capitalism and free markets are not a one-sided “good thing”. The capitalists who we presume are champions of free markets are actually in favor of monopolies, as long as they are the ones monopolizing the market. In order to ensure the competition that brings about better goods and services at better prices there must be regulation in order to ensure that there is a free and open market for competition. Certainly some regulations can be ineffective and silly, but a total lack of regulation is a monopolist’s dream and is no good for the broad consuming public.

There is a difference between imposing a legal and societal mandate of tolerance in public dealings in order to preserve everyone’s right to belief without persecution and the imposition of a personal religious belief on everyone else’s private behavior and choices. A mandate not to discriminate on the basis of race, ethnicity, national origin, gender, religion or creed in public dealings is not the same as telling you what to think or do in private. Some people take their willingness to impose their beliefs on others as proof of the sincerity of their beliefs.

#gun rights #second amendment #abortion #health care industry #insurance #drug companies #immigration #black lives matter #racial justice

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

I reblogged something earlier this morning about how even when queer men are present on film, movies tend to find a way to soft-shoe their queerness, to give audiences a kind of escape hatch, something to focus on that isn’t their relationships with men.

And it’s something I think about a lot, because when you focus on “identity,” then -- it’s not that hard, anymore, to find Representation in popular culture.  Because identity is fairly comfortable for straight people; most straight people now know an out person or five; most straight people have internalized the message that some people Just Are That Way and it’s okay to let them exist -- even that it’s pretty awful to shame and torment them for Being Who They Are. Like, even fucking Disney keeps trolling us with “First Gay Character In the Blah-De-Blah!” which is inevitably bullshit, but they do it because they know it’s a nice thing to say, that (straight) people will nod and smile and think, yes, there should be some gay people somewhere, for Representation!  The numbers could stand improvement, but they are actually pretty good for things like “do you think gay people should exist and be in movies?”

Something else happens when you try to foreground not a character’s identity, but their relationships.  Because an identity-based representation mindset is inherently distancing, you know? If you are a straight viewer -- and remember that straight viewers are The Audience for all mainstream media; the basic function of numbers and economics demands it! -- a character that’s presented to you as a gay character is easy to kind of process and digest.  You know gay people; this person is, in at least some way, like your cousin or your friend or whatever.  There’s a box in your head that makes this character comprehensible and acceptable, which didn’t use to be the case!  So that’s great!

But what we’re interested in and attracted to in fiction isn’t the identity of the characters, it’s the stories.  Anyone will be relatable to us -- the weirdest or worst or most alien people in the universe will be relatable to us! -- if we’re taken through a story that requires us to identify what their emotions are, what they want, and what it’s going to cost them to get it.  That’s how people process a story.  There’s a joke I’ve heard a lot about how bulletproof a Romeo & Juliet story is -- that you can write about a young dinosaur who loves a robot, and as long as Society objects to their union, you’ll have the audience in tears by the midpoint, going I just think that dinosaur and robot should have a chance!  In fiction, people don’t identify with the identity of the characters, they identify with story beats.  They identify with emotions.

And that’s what we’re really still afraid of, right?  The Straight Audience is comfortable with the existence of people who live in the gay box, comfortable with being friendly toward them and supportive of them -- but once the story hinges on identifying with emotions of attraction and desire, well, The Straight Audience is now being put in the position of either following along with the story and allowing themselves to identify with those emotions, or noping out of the story altogether, of distancing from it or outright rejecting it.  And for a lot of straight people, it’s a very, very different experience to watch a character you know is gay, versus to experience the story from the perspective of a character who wants to fuck that dude.  And that’s how you get stories like The Imitation Game and Bohemian Rhapsody and DaVinci’s Demons (apparently; I haven’t seen that last one) -- where it’s allowable to say that the character has a queer identity, but not allowable to make the story about what it feels like to desire men.

And I get the bind that creators are in.  The Straight Audience is your audience; it just is, at least when it comes time to find someone to pony up and pay for your film.  if you try to sell a story where the emotional beats of the story demand that The Straight Audience surrenders those distancing boxes and invests in genuinely wanting your mlm character to achieve getting a man as the story goal -- you’re running the extremely real risk that your audience is just not going to stay with you through that.  At best, it’s going to feel like a story that’s not for them so they never see it at all.  At worst, they’re going to feel manipulated and pressured to vicariously experience an emotional reality that they have something invested in not experiencing.  At worst, their ability to relate to a story of love or desire between two men is going to challenge their notion of what is and isn’t part of them, and people do not take kindly to that.

So everything kind of gets split off into Queer Films that just assume from the jump that the straights are not going to watch it so who cares, and Mainstream Films that require the drive-shaft of the story to be something else, something it’s safe for the audience to relate to.  Which isn’t always bad!  Like, I think The Old Guard is a great example of that being done well: Joe and Nicky exist, are mlm, are solid and likeable characters, and don’t really demand a lot from the viewer, other than not to be a total douchebag and object to their existence.  People can clear that bar.  And I do not have any issue with that!  It’s fine, I have no notes.

But Joe and Nicky are not, from a story perspective, the protagonists of the film.  You can make a solid argument for either Nile or Andy as the primary protagonist, since they both have story arcs that drive the action, and Booker is a really great antagonist.  Joe and Nicky are around for the story, but it’s not their story.  What works for them doesn’t work when constructing a mlm protagonist.

It seems to me like the cutting edge of moving the conversation from “is there a queer man in it?” to “are we telling a story where the audience can’t avoid this man’s queerness?” is in television, because of the nature of ensemble shows.  If you’re making a Roswell New Mexico or a Shadowhunters or a The Magicians, you have this space to operate in, because if The Straight Audience is unable or unwilling to participate in this story, they can kind of mentally check out and still have other storylines, other characters, that they are willing to invest themselves in emotionally.  And once the unwilling portion of your audience has safely checked themselves out -- while still being viewers of the show -- then you get to have these stories included, you get to have an Alex Manes or an Eliot Waugh whose story-driving wants and needs include men.  A movie can’t do that.  There aren’t enough plotlines or enough lead characters to allow a portion of your audience to opt out of some of them without them just, like, not going to see your movie at all.

But eventually we’re going to have to stop trying to play both sides against the middle by making movies about mlm that are aggressively not about their attraction to men. We’re kind of easing into discovering how The Straight Audience reacts to queer romcoms; that’s kind of the kiddie-pool level, since we’re already aware that straight folks tend to respond pretty well to “love is love” -- that dinosaur and that robot shouldn’t be kept apart by society, man! 

Eventually, though, we’re going to have to deal with the fact that American masculinity is still, despite all the progress, constructed almost entirely around the two load-bearing pillars of Not a Woman and Not Gay, and it can be existentially challenging for straight men to allow themselves to invest in a story that’s about experiencing the world as a woman or as a queer man.  Becoming absorbed in stories like that suggests that there’s no significant qualitative difference between themselves and a woman or a mlm, and -- that’s a real tough sell, especially in the midst of a massive cultural backlash against deteriorating gender distinctions, when anxiety about how to do masculinity is running high.

I don’t have a solution to this, except I guess the same way we pretty much solved the representation problem -- just chipping away at it over time.  I just think it’s interesting to have lived through the decades when mlm representation became pretty normalized, and then to see what its limitations are, how you come to the end of that quest and you realize that there’s a whole new dimension of what it means to be inclusive of queer people in our cultural narratives.

[sciencespies]

The True History Behind 'Judas and the Black Messiah'

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-true-history-behind-judas-and-the-black-messiah/

The True History Behind 'Judas and the Black Messiah'

SMITHSONIANMAG.COM | Feb. 11, 2021, 3:15 p.m.

When Chicago lawyer Jeffrey Haas first met Fred Hampton, chairman of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party, he was struck by the 20-year-old activist’s “tremendous amount of energy” and charisma. It was August 1969, and Haas, 26 years old at the time, and his fellow attorneys at the People’s Law Office had just secured Hampton’s release from prison on trumped-up charges of stealing $71 worth of ice cream bars. To mark the occasion, Hampton delivered a speech at a local church, calling on the crowd to raise their right hand and repeat his words: “I am a revolutionary.”

“I couldn’t quite say that, because I thought I was a lawyer for the movement, but not necessarily of the movement,” recalls Haas, who is white. “But as Fred continued saying that, by the third or fourth time, I was shouting ‘I am a revolutionary’ like everyone else.”

Judas and the Black Messiah, a new film directed by Shaka King and co-produced by Black Panther director Ryan Coogler, deftly dramatizes this moment, capturing both Hampton’s oratorical prowess and the mounting injustices that led him and his audience to declare themselves revolutionaries. Starring Daniel Kaluuya of Get Out fame as the chairman, the movie chronicles the months preceding Hampton’s assassination in a December 1969 police raid, detailing his contributions to the Chicago community and dedication to the fight for social justice. Central to the narrative is the activist’s relationship with—and subsequent betrayal by—FBI informant William O’Neal (LaKeith Stanfield), who is cast as the Judas to Hampton’s “black messiah.”

“The Black Panthers are the single greatest threat to our national security,” says a fictionalized J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen), echoing an actual assertion made by the FBI director, in the film. “Our counterintelligence program must prevent the rise of a black messiah.”

Here’s what you need to know to separate fact from fiction ahead of Judas and the Black Messiah’s debut in theaters and on HBO Max this Friday, February 12.

Is Judas and the Black Messiah based on a true story?

In short: yes, but with extensive dramatic license, particularly regarding O’Neal. As King tells the Atlantic, he worked with screenwriter Will Berson and comedians Kenny and Keith Lucas to pen a biopic of Hampton in the guise of a psychological thriller. Rather than focusing solely on the chairman, they opted to examine O’Neal—an enigmatic figure who rarely discussed his time as an informant—and his role in the FBI’s broader counterintelligence program, COINTELPRO.

“Fred Hampton came into this world fully realized. He knew what he was doing at a very young age,” says King. “Whereas William O’Neal is in a conflict; he’s confused. And that’s always going to make for a more interesting protagonist.”

Daniel Kaluuya (center) as Fred Hampton

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

Speaking with Deadline, the filmmaker adds that the crew wanted to move beyond Hampton’s politics into his personal life, including his romance with fellow activist Deborah Johnson (Dominique Fishback), who now goes by the name Akua Njeri.

“[A] lot of times when we think about these freedom fighters and revolutionaries, we don’t think about them having families … and plans for the future—it was really important to focus on that on the Fred side of things,” King tells Deadline. “On the side of O’Neal, [we wanted] to humanize him as well so that viewers of the film could leave the movie wondering, ‘Is there any of that in me?’”

Who are the film’s two central figures?

Born in a suburb of Chicago in 1948, Hampton demonstrated an appetite for activism at an early age. As Haas, who interviewed members of the Hampton family while researching his book, The Assassination of Fred Hampton: How the FBI and the Chicago Police Murdered a Black Panther, explains, “Fred just couldn’t accept injustice anywhere.” At 10 years old, he started hosting weekend breakfasts for other children from the neighborhood, cooking the meals himself in what Haas describes as a precursor to the Panthers’ free breakfast program. And in high school, he led walkouts protesting the exclusion of black students from the race for homecoming queen and calling on officials to hire more black teachers and administrators.

According to William Pretzer, a supervisory curator at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture (NMAAHC), the young Hampton was keenly aware of racial injustice in his community. His mother babysat for Emmett Till prior to the 14-year-old’s murder in Mississippi in 1955; ten years after Till’s death, he witnessed white mobs attacking Martin Luther King Jr.’s Chicago crusade firsthand.

“Hampton is really influenced by the desire of the NAACP and King to make change, and the kind of resistance that they encounter,” says Pretzer. “So it’s as early as 1966 that Hampton starts to gravitate toward Malcolm X … [and his] philosophy of self-defense rather than nonviolent direct action.”

Fred Hampton speaks at a rally in Chicago’s Grant Park in September 1969

(Chicago Tribune file photo / Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

William O’Neal in a 1973 mugshot

(Fair use via Wikimedia Commons)

After graduating from high school in 1966, Hampton, as president of the local NAACP Youth Chapter, advocated for the establishment of an integrated community pool and recruited upward of 500 new members. In large part due to his proven track record of successful activism, leaders of the burgeoning Black Panther Party recruited Hampton to help launch the movement in Chicago in November 1968. By the time of his death just over a year later, he’d risen to the rank of Illinois chapter chairman and national deputy chairman.

O’Neal, on the other hand, was a habitual criminal with little interest in activism before he infiltrated the Panthers at the behest of FBI agent Roy Mitchell (portrayed in the film by Jesse Plemons). As O’Neal recalled in a 1989 interview, Mitchell offered to overlook the-then teenager’s involvement in a multi-state car theft in exchange for intel on Hampton.

“[A] fast-talking, conniving West Side black kid who thought he knew all the angles,” O’Neal, according to the Chicago Tribune, joined the party and quickly won members’ admiration with his bravado, mechanical and carpentry skills, and willingness to place himself in the thick of the action. By the time of the police raid that killed Hampton, he’d been appointed the Panthers’ chief of security.

“Unlike what we might think of an informer being a quiet person who would appear to be a listener, O’Neal was out there all the time spouting stuff,” says Haas. “People were impressed by that. … He was a ‘go do it’ guy. ‘I can fix this. I can get you money. I can do these kinds of things. And … that had an appeal for a while.”

Why did the FBI target Hampton?

Toward the beginning of Judas and the Black Messiah, Hoover identifies Hampton as a leader “with the potential to unite the Communist, the anti-war, and the New Left movements.” Later, the FBI director tells Mitchell that the black power movement’s success will translate to the loss of “[o]ur entire way of life. Rape, pillage, conquer, do you follow me?”

Once O’Neal is truly embedded within the Panthers, he discovers that the activists are not, in fact, “terrorists.” Instead, the informer finds himself dropped in the midst of a revolution that, in the words of co-founder Bobby Seale, was dedicated to “trying to make change in day-to-day lives” while simultaneously advocating for sweeping legislation aimed at achieving equality.

The Panthers’ ten-point program, penned by Seale and Huey P. Newton in 1966, outlined goals that resonate deeply today (“We want an immediate end to POLICE BRUTALITY and MURDER of Black people”) and others that were certain to court controversy (“We want all Black men to be exempt from military service” and “We want freedom for all Black men held in federal, state, county and city prisons and jails”). As Jeff Greenwald wrote for Smithsonian magazine in 2016, members “didn’t limit themselves to talk.” Taking advantage of California’s open-carry laws, for instance, beret-wearing Panthers responded to the killings of unarmed black Americans by patrolling the streets with rifles—an image that quickly attracted the condemnation of both the FBI and upper-class white Americans.

Fred Hampton (far left) attends an October 1969 rally against the trial of eight people accused of conspiracy to start a riot at the Democratic National Convention.

(Don Casper / Chicago Tribune / Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

According to Pretzer, law enforcement viewed the Panthers and similar groups as a threat to the status quo. “They are focused on police harassment, … challenging the authority figures,” he says, “focusing on social activities that everybody thinks the government should be doing something about” but isn’t, like providing health care and ensuring impoverished Americans had enough to eat.

The FBI established COINTELPRO—short for counterintelligence program—in 1956 to investigate, infiltrate and discredit dissident groups ranging from the Communist Party of the United States to the Ku Klux Klan, the Nation of Islam and the Panthers. Of particular interest to Hoover and other top officials were figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X and Hampton, many of whom endured illegal surveillance, explicit threats and police harassment. Details of the covert program only came to light came to light in 1971, when activists stole confidential files from an FBI office in Pennsylvania and released them to the public.

Though Hampton stated that the Panthers would only resort to violence in self-defense, Hoover interpreted his words as a declaration of militant intentions.

“Because of COINTELPRO, because of the exacerbation, the harassment, the infiltration of these and agent provocateurs that they establish within these organizations, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy from the FBI’s point of view,” Pretzer explains, “[in that] they get the violence they were expecting.”

As Haas and law partner Flint Taylor wrote for Truthout in January, newly released documents obtained through a Freedom of Information Act request confirm the lawyers’ long-held suspicion that Hoover himself was involved in the plan to assassinate Hampton.

LaKeith Stanfield (left) as William O’Neal and Jesse Plemons (right) as FBI agent Roy Mitchell

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

What events does Judas and the Black Messiah dramatize?

Set between 1968 and 1969, King’s film spotlights Hampton’s accomplishments during his brief tenure as chapter chairman before delving into the betrayals that resulted in his death. Key to Hampton’s legacy were the Panthers’ survival programs, which sought to provide access to “fundamental elements of life,” per Pretzer. Among other offerings, the organization opened free health clinics, provided free breakfasts for children, and hosted political education classes that emphasized black history and self-sufficiency. (As Hampton said in 1969, “[R]eading is so important for us that a person has to go through six weeks of our political education before we can consider [them] a member.”)

On an average day, Hampton arrived at the Panthers’ headquarters with “a staccato of orders [that] gave energy to everyone around him,” says Haas. “But it wasn’t just what he asked people to do. He was there at 6:30 in the morning, making breakfast, serving the kids, talking to their parents.”

In addition to supporting these community initiatives—one of which, the free breakfast program, paved the way for modern food welfare policies—Hampton spearheaded the Rainbow Coalition, a boundary-crossing alliance between the Panthers, the Latino Young Lords, and the Young Patriots, a group of working-class white Southerners. He also brokered peace between rival Chicago gangs, encouraging them “to focus instead on the true enemy—the government and the police,” whom the Panthers referred to as “pigs,” according to the Village Free Press.

Fred Hampton raises his right hand at an October 11, 1969, rally in Chicago.

(Photo by David Fenton / Getty Images)

Speaking with Craig Phillips of PBS’ “Independent Lens” last year, historian Lilia Fernandez, author of Brown in the Windy City: Mexicans and Puerto Ricans in Postwar Chicago, explained, “The Rainbow Coalition presented a possibility. It gave us a vision for what could be in terms of interracial politics among the urban poor.”

Meanwhile, O’Neal was balancing his duties as an informant with his rising stature within the party. Prone to dramatic tendencies, he once built a fake electric chair intended, ironically, to scare informers. He also pushed the Panthers to take increasingly aggressive steps against the establishment—actions that led “more people, and Fred in particular, [to become] dubious of him,” says Haas.

The months leading up to the December 1969 raid found Hampton embroiled in legal troubles as tensions mounted between police and the Panthers. Falsely accused of theft and assault for the July 1968 ice cream truck robbery, he was denied bail until the People’s Law Office intervened, securing his release in August 1969. Between July and November of that year, authorities repeatedly clashed with the Panthers, engaging in shootouts that resulted in the deaths of multiple party members and police officers.

Daniel Kaluuya as Fred Hampton (far left) and LaKeith Stanfield as William O’Neal (far right)

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

By late November, the FBI, working off O’Neal’s intel, had convinced Cook County State’s Attorney Edward Hanrahan and the Chicago Police Department to raid Hampton’s home as he and his fiancée Johnson, who was nine months pregnant, slept. Around 4:30 a.m. on December 4, a heavily armed, 14-person raiding party burst into the apartment, firing upward of 90 bullets at the nine Panthers inside. One of the rounds struck and killed Mark Clark, a 22-year-old Panther stationed just past the front door. Though law enforcement later claimed otherwise, the physical evidence suggests that just one shot originated within the apartment.

Johnson and two other men tried to rouse the unconscious 21-year-old Hampton, who’d allegedly been drugged earlier that night—possibly by O’Neal, according to Haas. (O’Neal had also provided the cops with a detailed blueprint of the apartment.) Forced out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, Johnson heard a cop say, “He’s barely alive. He’ll barely make it.” Two shots rang out before she heard another officer declare, “He’s good and dead now.”

What happened after Hampton’s assassination?

Judas and the Black Messiah draws to a close shortly after the raid. In the film’s final scene, a conflicted O’Neal accepts an envelope filled with cash and agrees to continue informing on the Panthers. Superimposed text states that O’Neal remained with the party until the early 1970s, ultimately earning more than $200,000 when adjusted for inflation. After he was identified as the Illinois chapter’s mole in 1973, O’Neal received a new identity through the federal witness protection program. In January 1990, the 40-year-old, who’d by then secretly returned to Chicago, ran into traffic and was struck by a car. Investigators deemed his death a suicide.

“I think he was sorry he did what he did,” O’Neal’s uncle, Ben Heard, told the Chicago Reader after his nephew’s death. “He thought the FBI was only going to raid the house. But the FBI gave [the operation] over to the state’s attorney and that was all Hanrahan wanted. They shot Fred Hampton and made sure he was dead.”

The attempt to uncover the truth about Hampton and Clark’s deaths began on the morning of December 4 and continues to this day. While one of Haas’ law partners went to the morgue to identify Hampton’s body, another took stock of the apartment, which the police had left unsecured. Haas, meanwhile, went to interview the seven survivors, four of whom had been seriously injured.

A floor plan of Fred Hampton’s apartment provided to the FBI by William O’Neal

(People’s Law Office)

Hanrahan claimed that the Panthers had opened fire on the police. But survivor testimony and physical evidence contradicted this version of events. “Bullet holes” ostensibly left by the Panthers’ shots were later identified as nail heads; blood stains found in the apartment suggested that Hampton was dragged out into the hallway after being shot in his bed at point-blank range.

Public outrage over the killings, particularly within the black community, grew as evidence discounting the authorities’ narrative mounted. As one elderly woman who stopped by the apartment to see the crime scene for herself observed, the attack “was nothing but a Northern lynching.”

Following the raid, Hanrahan charged the survivors with attempted murder. Haas and his colleagues secured Johnson’s release early enough to ensure she didn’t give birth to her son, Fred Hampton Jr., in jail, and the criminal charges were eventually dropped. But the attorneys, “not content with getting people off, decided we needed to file a civil suit” alleging a conspiracy to not only murder Hampton, but cover up the circumstances of his death, says Haas.

Over the next 12 years, Haas and his colleagues navigated challenges ranging from racist judges to defendants’ stonewalling, backroom deals between the FBI and local authorities, and even contempt charges brought against the attorneys themselves. Working from limited information, including leaked COINTELPRO documents, the team slowly pieced together the events surrounding the raid, presenting compelling evidence of the FBI’s involvement in the conspiracy.

Hampton’s fiancée, Deborah Johnson (sitting in middle, as portrayed by Dominique Fishback), gave birth to their son, Fred Hampton Jr., 25 days after the raid.

(Glen Wilson / Warner Bros.)

Though a judge dismissed the original case in 1977 following an 18-month trial, Haas and the rest of the team successfully appealed for a new hearing. In 1982, after more than a decade of protracted litigation, the defendants agreed to pay a settlement of $1.85 million to the nine plaintiffs, including Clark’s mother and Hampton’s mother, Iberia.

“I used to describe being in court like going to a dog fight every day,” says Haas. “Everything we would say would be challenged. The [defendants’ lawyers] would tell the jury everything the Panthers had ever been accused of in Chicago and elsewhere, and [the judge] would let them do that, but he wouldn’t let us really cross examine the defendants.”

Hampton’s death dealt a significant blow to the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party, frightening members with its demonstration of law enforcement’s reach and depriving the movement of a natural leader.

According to Pretzer, “What comes out is that the the assassination of Hampton is a classic example of law enforcement’s malfeasance and overreach and … provoking of violence.”

Today, says Haas, Hampton “stands as a symbol of young energy, struggle and revolution.”

The chairman, for his part, was keenly aware of how his life would likely end.

As he once predicted in a speech, “I don’t believe I’m going to die slipping on a piece of ice; I don’t believe I’m going to die because I got a bad heart; I don’t believe I’m going to die because of lung cancer. I believe that I’m going to be able to die doing the things I was born for. … I believe that I will be able to die as a revolutionary in the international revolutionary proletarian struggle.”

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