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apothecarinomicon · 3 years

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Spring week 1 part 3

I wasn’t sure how often I’d have patients, so I spent much of the rest of the week cleaning up around the property and sweeping the cobwebs out of the cottage. As much as I was willing to be friendly, I was not about to run right to the blacksmith and ask for a favor the same day I met him.

Or for several days after.

I think the golem might have used the last of its existing power getting here, because it didn’t move at all the entire time I was working on the property. If I ever locate my predecessor, I must remember to pick her brain on the finer details of how she made it. I assume it was her that made it, though it could really have been any of the previous owners of the cottage. I’m still not entirely comfortable thinking of myself as its owner, honestly—I feel more like a guest, or perhaps a tenant.

As I worked, my thoughts turned to the Bankhead family. Evander introduced himself as Aidan’s husband, just like that, plain and in public. The ease of it ran so counter to my own experience growing up in Huntsmanland that I hadn’t even processed it in the moment, automatically eliding it so that it could surface for real in my mind at a later time.

Is this the norm in High Rannoc? Is it only in Greenmoor? Or are the Bankheads perhaps rebellious activists? Is this a place where I might be free from the whispers and rumors and derision that followed me for my entire youth?

I suppose further observation is required.

I stopped working after a few hours, sweaty and tired. I was hoping to potentially find some easy reagents in the overgrowth and piles of stones, but no such luck befell me. The job’s not nearly complete, though, and I may be lucky yet.

I’m going to wash off and then head into town, to see if I can find any dishes or cutlery, or at least a few glass bottles. Maybe some lunch, too.

────⊱⁜⊰────

My trip into town did not go as I’d hoped. My mind is racing a bit at the moment but I’ll try to get this down in order.

The town’s tavern is called The Copper Fox. It sits right next to the inn, and by comparison looks almost comically squat. It was busy when I walked in—looked like more than half of the adults in the town were there. I walked to the bar, intending to ask what food was available. The man working behind the bar met me as I reached it and slid a stein into my hands, cutting off my question by saying “on the house.” He was about as squat as the building he worked in, balding and with a thick mustache and thin beard. He held my gaze for a long moment, with a meaning that I couldn’t quite comprehend. A request, perhaps, or an admonishment.

Or perhaps a warning.

There was a bard standing near one wall, singing and playing guitar. She was finishing a song as I walked in, but as the last chord faded I heard a couple voices from the crowd cry “again! again!”

Gleefully, she started up playing again to a round of cheers and the scattered clinking of silver. It was an old ballad I’d heard a few times before, a bit grisly for my taste. There are a few different variations, but the one she sang goes like this:

The taxman came to collect tax and roused Jack out of bed And Jack, alack, he took an axe and struck him o’er the head The taxman, he fell to the ground and writhed and moaned and bled And Jack, alack, he swung and swung to ensure he was dead

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

Jack dragged the corpse into town square and loud and bold he said “He came and tried to take what’s mine and now his debt is paid” The townsfolk, they all gathered ‘round, and not a bit afraid All the townsfolk laughed and leaped and threw him a parade

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

They all marched to the edge of town and facing the frontier They set the corpse down by the road, held upright on a bier With this grisly sculpture the town made its message clear: “Take your bullshit somewhere else. You are not welcome here!”

Hey nonny hey What a day what a day Hey nonny hey Stay away stay away

As I said, it's terribly grim. Still, it’s better than the version where an army comes to massacre the town as revenge for the tax collector.

It was halfway through the second chorus that I began to feel eyes on my back. I glanced around and caught several people quickly averting their eyes. I found this unnerving, to say the least, and it only got worse when I started to hear people whispering. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I recognized the tone. It was one that had followed me my entire childhood, one that made my outsider status clear. I was the other, worthy of derision, of sanction.

Of violence?

I got up and left quickly, without finishing my beer.

────⊱⁜⊰────

I decided to visit the bakery instead. Aidan and Evander had been nothing but kind to me. It turned out to be a good call. They had me come in and upstairs to their apartment, where they were eating what they hadn’t sold that day with their son MacKay. They shared their food with me. They made me feel welcome.

I asked how Aidan’s thumb was doing. He showed me the bandages and how he could squeeze it without pain. He touched it to his fork, and when he lifted his hand the fork didn’t come with it. All was well on that front, it seemed.

I asked after dishes and cutlery, mentioning that there didn’t seem to be any in the cottage. Aidan stood and said that when my predecessor vanished, they were the ones she gifted her kitchenware to. Since they already had a set, Aidan said it seemed only right that it go to the new resident of the cottage, and Evander agreed. I offered to pay but they said there was no need—it was a gift. I took what was offered and thanked them for it.

With a slight sense of belatedness, Evander asked to what they owed the pleasure. I hesitated, not wanting to dampen the mood or be too vulnerable or in any way risk losing what I was quickly beginning to think of as an oasis.

But then again, maybe there was some clarity to be gained here. I started explaining about going to The Copper Fox, and the bard performing the ballad. I hadn’t even gotten past explaining the content of the lyrics when MacKay preempted me, mumbling something along the lines of “yeah, I bet that made you uncomfortable.”

It was clearly meant to be a private comment to himself in the way of adolescents, but we could all make it out. Aidan said MacKay’s name sharply, in warning or reprimand, but I was already spider-webbing through the potential implications of his statement in my head. I asked them what that meant.

Aidan and Evander shared a glance, and seemed to silently come to an agreement.

I can’t usually remember well enough to give exact quotes, but Evander was picking his words so carefully that I recall them clearly. He said “there’s a rumor going around that you’re a... spy for the Government.”

I thought he meant people were saying I was working for the mayor, and I protested that that didn’t make any sense. I’d only met her once and wasn’t familiar enough to get any more than surface information.

“No,” he clarified. “Capital ‘G’ Government. Not the local one.” He said most of the townsfolks’ interaction with any governing body larger than the local government was when tax collectors did in fact come to town, or when some new ordinance was decreed that required public observance. It was all very mysterious to them and seemed unaware of and uninterested in their actual needs—and that bred suspicion and contempt. Any outsider became a potential threat.

However, Aidan added with a pointed look at MacKay, not everyone in town was foolish enough to buy into the rumors. MacKay protested that he didn’t believe them, that it was just a bit of hazing that every new person to the town had to undergo. He rattled off a couple of names I didn’t recognize before Evander cut him off by saying that just because it had been done before didn’t make it right to do again. MacKay countered that it wasn’t his idea, and that reprimanding him wouldn’t keep me safe from the adults who might take the rumors more seriously.

I asked what that meant—was I unsafe here? Evander and Aidan agreed that I absolutely was not. For the entire time they’d lived here (and for Aidan, that was his entire life), there had never been a case of significant violence between townsfolk. It would not come to that, they assured me.

Still, it’s all very nerve-wracking.

────⊱⁜⊰────

It’s the middle of the night and I’ve just thought of something. Clearly the bartender did think I was a Government agent there to suss out illegal activity, as Evander said.

Because if he didn’t, he would have had no reason to try and bribe me.

────⊱⁜⊰────

I decided perhaps it was best if I wasn’t around in town too much—they can’t call me a spy if I’m not spying, right? So, I decided to spend some of my down time exploring the wilderness around Greenmoor without the pressure of a patient waiting on me.

The two major remaining areas that seem reasonably safe to traverse with what resources I have currently are Glimmerwood Grove and Hero’s Hollow. I wasn’t much in the mood to deal with a dungeon today—nor the denizens and adventurers therein—so the choice was fairly clear. I brought Ailean with me, so I could better attune with her, and so she might help with the secondary reason for my outing.

In addition to just wanting to be out of town, I went to the grove to see if I could find a princess toad, which one of my predecessor’s notes mentioned lived in the tangled undergrowth. Not only are several of their byproducts useful reagents, but I thought it might be nice to give Ailean some company—or at least show her where she could find it if she ever grew bored.

Glimmerwood Grove is genuinely beautiful, a forest in full Spring bloom. The undergrowth is dense, and seems reluctant to accept any human attempts to create walking paths—it encroaches upon or obscures even those close to the edge of the wood. Despite the near-total cover of the canopy, the entire place is kept well-lit by some means invisible to me (hence, I suppose, ‘Glimmerwood’). The whole place has an air of magic to it.

As I walked further into the grove, I found (as predicted) less and less path to follow. The patches that were bare of undergrowth this deep were blanketed by healthy colonies of moss. The sound of bells came faintly, from where I couldn’t tell.

I was staring off to my left—I thought I’d seen movement in between the trees and was looking to see if I could catch more—when Ailean made a noise that brought my attention to the ground in front of me. There, I saw a clutter of small pellets. Having lived with Ailean for nearly a week, I could recognize the size and shape as those of toad droppings, but the color was a strange lavender.

Well, I may not have found the toad itself, but these droppings were a useful reagent all their own. I used a small scoop (I brought it with me on my journey from Edith’s) and gathered enough for one use. There wasn’t enough for two, and despite its color the smell was enough to dissuade me from storing any more than I needed.

I got what I needed onto the scoop and stood, and that’s when I saw it.

Standing a few meters down the path was a pure white horse with a horn coming out of its forehead. It was looking directly at me, standing stock still. Sitting here writing this, I’m still shaken. Unicorns are of the domain of bedtime stories, fairy legends, explorers’ tales. They aren’t real.

And yet.

I went to take a step towards it and it immediately turned and trotted away into the woods. I could have sworn it grew translucent before it disappeared among the trees.

My first week here has been… fucking hell, it’s been a lot. That was just the cherry on top.

An enormous, unheard of, vaguely portentous cherry.

I’m going to bed.

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#writing #writeblr #writblr #fantasy #amwriting #writers on tumblr #original writing #apothecaria #entry #creative writing #fiction #rpg #roleplaying game #high rannoc #writeblr community #writers

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

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badger primary + lion secondary (bird model)

Hi! I am so hyped to find your blog - I have been following SHC for a while now and this is one of my hyperfixations lmao. Anyway, I am wondering if you are able to take the time to help me figure out my primary and secondary. I have a hard time trusting my instincts and experiences because of PTSD.

I’ll keep in mind that you’ve probably dealt with/are currently dealing with some burning.

Even though I have an idea of what I could be, it will be nice to get some external validation. (I’m bad at explaining my internal thoughts sometimes).

That is something that Lion primaries struggle with… but it might also be a burnt secondary thing.

My morals are largely based on social justice oriented structures of oppression. I have always felt this even growing up but after I finally learned the actual language for the power structures that uphold oppression in school (like capitalism), I realized that I’ve always intuitively used some kind of structure like that to assess morality but it was nice to learn the language and be able to talk about it and explain it to others.

Definitely leaning Lion primary for you.

An example would be as a child when I found out that Nike was using child laborers to make their sneakers, I just boycotted Nike and told my family I was boycotting Nike.

I’d be really interested in knowing what the thought process behind this decision was. Was it “child labors are people too” (Badger) “This is Wrong!” (Lion) or “this piece of information makes me re-think my model of how the world works” (Bird.)

Currently, I am struggling to be a good “Daughter” (i’m nonbinary but my family expects me to be a nice afab daughter) who performs family duties well, and living who I am authentically. It makes me super miserable.

You’ve got Lion somewhere in your system. Either primary, secondary, or both.

The thing that keeps me stuck between lion and badger primary is while I do find things right and wrong and sometimes, a lot of what I find right and wrong is based on people. For example, I get annoyed at a lot of activist communities because they like to play this I’m the Next Top Activist game, and start shaming people who are not able to give their 100% to the cause, and I think that just… super ableist. I often struggle with being in activist groups for that reason because I find myself disagreeing with the ways they may intentionally and unintentionally exclude people with disabilities, or people in other marginalized groups. And the minute that someone is joining a cause to advance their own agenda and profile or ease their own guilt…they’re no longer supporting the cause in my opinion. I can’t just be nice to a politician without really trying to suppress my desire to call them out. It’s really uncomfortable to - like for example, asking a politician for money even though that money was our tax money in the first place.

This is interesting. And this part actually got me thinking Badger because - it’s just so focused on groups, organizations, and communities. What really makes you get up in the morning is this feeling that all people matter. So you’re tuned into issues of accessibility, and what’s happening with our tax dollars. But then, you are also crossing out categories of people yourself. Like, if they’re not a True Believer, you don’t want to deal with them. If they’re a politician, you don’t want to deal with them. It’s a very Badger impulse, but be careful there.

My secondary is tough because while I try to plan, I always forget about my plan. I end up improvising on the spot, and I like shortcuts, but I also cannot pretend to be someone I’m not. It’s hard for me to deal with workplace professionalism and act respectable as I always have to think about what I can’t say or else I will get in trouble. I’ve gotten in trouble in the past for my mouth.

The badger side of me shows when I am noticed for showing up at things I support. I tend to take on supportive roles in the causes I’m involved in because of my lack of energy (I deal with a lot of mental health stuff that limits my energy) and I’m also dealing a lot with my neurodivergence which makes communicating and public speaking sometimes difficult for me.

I don’t tend to take on leadership roles willingly, but I notice people always coming up to me and asking for my lead on things because they notice what I’m doing. I got my current job because my supervisor approached me at the company holiday party and asked if I would be interested in applying because she noticed the work I did in my previous role.

Everything about this is very Lion secondary, *especially* the bit about easily falling into leadership positions. Lion secondaries are inspirational, and they tend to gather armies around them.

I grew up super shy and things overstimulated me a lot so thats why the lion secondary sometimes feels like it doesn’t fit me.

Probably your Lion secondary was somewhat burnt when you were younger, but it seems REALLY fiery now.

Ok I realized I rambled a LOT (lmao hyperfixation). Please let me know if you need more info from me if this isn’t enough! Also, if you are out of capacity and don’t get to this, that’s ok too. Thank you so much for reading and for your time!!

I’m sorry about another ask! I submitted a post yesterday (frantasticlyfran) and I realized I forgot to include why the quiz would sometimes put me as snake primary! So a lot of the choices in my life I made because of my mom. My mom is a cancer survivor. I originally went to study film and biology because I thought that making health info accessible would have saved my mom a lot of trouble with chemo and its awful side effects. Now, I am doing more policy work and studying mental health because I realized that I enjoy working on the ground with people more than doing work that seems removed from why I’m doing it (which film sometimes feel that way). The film world was also really awful to me on principle and the way that it doesn’t pay its workers, or the way it tokenizes communities of color. Now, I still think about my mom a lot as I study mental health and how I want to make mental health accessible for low income, queer, and trans communities of color.

Sometimes it can be really hard to see your own primary, because you only live inside your own head. It’s hard to see the forces that dominate your life as things that don’t dominate the lives of everyone else.

Anyway, here is a list of communities you are specifically concerned with and motivated by:

Chemo patients

The film industry (derogatory)

Underpaid workers

Low income people of color

Queer people of color

Trans people of color

You’re a Badger.

As a kid, because I struggled with social cues (yay autism lol), I also tended to stick to a few friends and tried to model their behaviors and expressions. That is why sometimes the test would put me as snake primary.

Yeah, that’s an Actor Bird model. I’ve got one too, for the same reason.

The other thing I forgot to mention was the fact that I sometimes come off as a bird secondary because I like to be prepared when it comes to bringing a ton of stuff when I’m traveling. I end up overpacking and bringing maybe way too many things and sometimes it’s like super not practical. But I do tend to come off as prepared because I’ve also gotten in trouble with others for not preparing enough in the past lol because people would get upset at me for not providing them guidelines or preparations when I usually just, jump in and learn on the spot and forget that others need me to provide guidance and prep work.

Lion secondary, Bird model.

#sortinghatchats #badger primary #lion secondary #badger primary vs lion primary #sortme #wisteria sorts #submission

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curvedroygbiv · 4 years

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JK Rowling is dominating my dash right now. And not that any one cares about my 2 cents, but -

JK Rowling is an excellent case study of authorial intent, changing social tides, and the debate between bad representation vs good representation.

But I think there’s one other thing that get’s lost in there, I dunno if there’s a real term for it, but it’s how people grow and evolve over time, and how the internet makes that both harder and easier.

I didn’t grow up in an ultra conservative or overly bigoted environment, but it’s easy to absorb a lot of those values and ideas just from the background radiation that is mainstream media. I wouldn’t be who I am today with out the internet, and all the people on it, who laid down the foundation of education, activism, and really just sharing stories of their own lives as real people who are impacted by oppression and injustice so I can be exposed to experiences outside my own bubble. I know “keyboard activist” is thrown around like it’s an insult these days, but I’ll never not be aware that online discourse and tumblr specifically has shaped my political and world views more than anything else.

It didn’t happen overnight. It wasn’t pretty. Shedding layer after layer of what I know now are mainstream anti-feminism and bigotry was a long and awkward process. I can put my foot in my mouth easily and often talking about everyday topics; trying to wade through forums and blogs and comments was always going to have me opening my big mouth to say something I’m not proud of. But you know what? I learned. I grew. And most of those conversations exist now only in my memories, an anonymous nobody drowned in obscurity, lost to time, sometimes bombed from orbit as a site shuts down or is wiped out. No big loss, to be honest.

But what if they weren’t? What if I was a celebrity? What if everything I wrote or typed was immortalized and canonized and put on display for the world to see? What if my words, good or bad, existed forever and ever, for people to dig up and use as “proof” that this is what I said and believed then, so It must be what I believe now?

In short, What if i was JK Rowling?

Joanne Katherine Rowling has never been a perfect person or a perfect author. Her books were always flawed. She never did enough, never did it right, never created anything that wasn’t problematic somehow. Her works are a reflection of who she was and what she believed in the moment. But am I supposed to think that they are a reflection of who she is today? 13 years ago she wrote a redemption arc for an incel, retconned a straight character gay after the fact, flubbed an aids metaphor, flubbed a slavery metaphor, and tied off a series about anti-fascism with “and then they did nothing about any of the underlying causes and had babies ever after the end”. 13 years ago I was a dumbass voicing my dumbass opinions on representation, affirmative action, religion, and really really wanted to make sure that I “wasn’t like other girls”. Oh, god, the fanfiction, the homophobia in my fan fiction, cackling as I pwned the yaoi fangirls for having such dumb opinions about /my/ favorite characters.

Am I a bad person? Are those long-forgotten footprints an indelible mark on my character?

Intent isn’t magic. “But I’m different now” is the empty rancid promise of every fan-favorite character that gets an undeserved redemption arc. “oh, it was different time, that’s just how things were” is wrong for straight white men and it’s wrong for everyone else. But if change is worth doing then it has to have some value somewhere. If someone interacted with me or my online presence they would have a very different picture of what I believe and who I am, compared to what they would have gotten 13 years ago. It would be almost impossible to dig up my old comments and indiscretions and link them back to me. I would almost appear to have been born full formed at the exact level of “woke” that I am today. Ironically as a internationally renowned celebrity and millionaire this is one luxury JK Rowling can never have.

I’m not going to pretend that contributing to the ugliness in the word is something the perpetrators can put behind them when they fell like they, personally, have moved beyond that. And just because people change doesn’t mean they always change for the better. But 13 years is a long time to be absorbing and studying and evolving, and the internet makes it easier every day to interact with tens of thousands of people who’s lives and testimonies you never would have encountered if you were just meeting them in person one by one. A lot has happened in 13 years too. We take for granted that “woke” media has a chance to get published, for one thing. We seem to have forgotten that once upon a time her books were already so controversial as to be banned over and over.

So yeah. She wrote a lot of fat characters as being evil and slovenly, compared to thin characters being, if not good, at least intelligent and worthwhile. She had every last Slytherin, right down to the first years, slink off instead of fighting in the final fight. She had Voldemort be “born evil” because of something his parents were on when he was conceived. She had Ron/Hermione as endgame and then said that she regretted it and they would probably never work out long term. She named a child Albus Severus and expected people to be good with that. Why the fuck did she think we needed to know about wizard toilets? She is, and continues to be, an imperfect person and problematic writer. But to pretend that she, in 2020, can’t possibly be sympathetic to LGB issues, well-informed on trans activism, and more committed than ever to feminism and the liberation of women, just because 13 years ago she didn’t have the foresight to put more empty performative sjw talking points into an already bloated manuscript?

I’m standing /right here/.

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rudystree · 3 years

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The way people are going off about Elaine posting about the crisis in Palestine 🤡 like honestly would they be happier if she didn’t try and spread awareness? Then wouldn’t they say she just doesn’t care? It’s not like she gets praised for posting about it, if anything she’s doing it in spite of the fact that she knows people are going to shit on her for being a “performative activist.” Idk how people have gotten so convinced that she does everything with evil intentions, she gained a platform that she did not ask for, want or work for (meaning it was not her goal while doing her job) and she’s still figuring out how to deal with it. Rudy did ask for and work for it and he’s clearly still struggling. Honestly the way people make a game out of tearing apart everything little thing she does scares me, not just with her other fandoms and other celebrities as well. (Even tho Elaines not even a celeb which is a whole another issue) around the board people on the internet people think they’re for some reason entitled to judge other peoples every move and act like they’re inside their heads when they really know nothing about them at all. Moral of story: internet and fandom culture is fucked up

For real. I saw this because I opened tags on IG and of fucking course these annoying pages can’t stop tagging every single cast member in their bullshit.

They really can’t take a day off from their gossip to acknowledge that what is happening in Israel/Palestine is a genuinely important issue to talk about, and instead choose to mock her for raising awareness and for asking for more information. Not everything is performative just because someone posts about it on a social network.

You can contribute to a fandom in so many amazing ways. So many ways! You can talk about your favorite people/characters, make edits or fan art, write fan fiction, or just silently show support by liking their content. And yet people choose to do this. Tearing apart every single thing about an actor’s girlfriend, who has zero impact on their life but still lives rent free in their head. Just let your hate go for one day.

Moral of the story: internet and fandom culture is fucked up 🙃

#and this is just one out of MANY accounts #posting this shit incessantly #the comments are even worse #it’s so frustrating #wasn’t it performative because she was public before?#i don’t get it #elaine chats #ask

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weyassinebentalb · 3 years

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Gaza Conflict Stokes 'Identity Crisis' for Young American Jews

Dan Kleinman does not know quite how to feel.

As a child in the New York City borough of Brooklyn, he was taught to revere Israel as the protector of Jews everywhere, the “Jewish superman who would come out of the sky to save us” when things got bad, he said.

It was a refuge in his mind when white supremacists in Charlottesville, Virginia, chanted “Jews will not replace us,” or kids in college grabbed his shirt, mimicking a “South Park” episode to steal his “Jew gold.”

But his feelings have grown muddier as he has gotten older, especially now as he watches violence unfold in Israel and Gaza. His moral compass tells him to help the Palestinians, but he cannot shake an ingrained paranoia every time he hears someone make anti-Israel statements.

“It is an identity crisis,” Kleinman, 33, said. “Very small in comparison to what is happening in Gaza and the West Bank, but it is still something very strange and weird.”

As the violence escalates in the Middle East, turmoil of a different kind is growing across the Atlantic. Many young American Jews are confronting the region’s long-standing strife in a very different context, with very different pressures, from their parents’ and grandparents’ generations.

The Israel of their lifetime has been powerful, no longer appearing to some to be under constant existential threat. The violence comes after a year when mass protests across the United States have changed how many Americans see issues of racial and social justice. The pro-Palestinian position has become more common, with prominent progressive members of Congress offering impassioned speeches in defense of the Palestinians on the House floor. At the same time, reports of anti-Semitism are rising across the country.

Divides between some American Jews and Israel’s right-wing government have been growing for more than a decade, but under the Trump administration those fractures that many hoped would heal became a crevasse. Politics in Israel have also remained fraught, as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s long-tenured government forged allegiances with Washington. For young people who came of age during the Trump years, political polarization over the issue only deepened.

Many Jews in America remain unreservedly supportive of Israel and its government. Still, the events of recent weeks have left some families struggling to navigate both the crisis abroad and the wide-ranging response from American Jews at home. What is at stake is not just geopolitical, but deeply personal. Fractures are intensifying along lines of age, observance and partisan affiliation.

In suburban Livingston, New Jersey, Meara Ashtivker, 38, has been afraid for her father-in-law in Israel, who has a disability and is not able to rush to the stairwell to shelter when he hears the air-raid sirens. She is also scared as she sees people in her progressive circles suddenly seem anti-Israel and anti-Jewish, she said.

Ashtivker, whose husband is Israeli, said she loved and supported Israel, even when she did not always agree with the government and its actions.

“It’s really hard being an American Jew right now,” she said. “It is exhausting and scary.”

Some young, liberal Jewish activists have found common cause with Black Lives Matter, which explicitly advocates for Palestinian liberation, concerning others who see that allegiance as anti-Semitic.

The recent turmoil is the first major outbreak of violence in Israel and Gaza for which Aviva Davis, who graduated this spring from Brandeis University, has been “socially conscious.”

“I’m on a search for the truth, but what’s the truth when everyone has a different way of looking at things?” Davis said.

Alyssa Rubin, 26, who volunteers in Boston with IfNotNow, a network of Jewish activists who want to end Jewish American support for Israeli occupation, has found protesting for the Palestinian cause to be its own form of religious observance.

She said she and her 89-year-old grandfather ultimately both want the same thing, Jewish safety. But “he is really entrenched in this narrative that the only way we can be safe is by having a country,” she said, while her generation has seen that “the inequality has become more exacerbated.”

In the protest movements last summer, “a whole new wave of people were really primed to see the connection and understand racism more explicitly,” she said, “understanding the ways racism plays out here, and then looking at Israel/Palestine and realizing it is the exact same system.”

But that comparison is exactly what worries many other American Jews, who say the history of white American slaveholders is not the correct frame for viewing the Israeli government or the global Jewish experience of oppression.

At Temple Concord, a Reform synagogue in Syracuse, New York, teenager after teenager started calling Rabbi Daniel Fellman last week, wondering how to process seeing Black Lives Matter activists they marched with last summer attack Israel as “an apartheid state.”

“The reaction today is different because of what has occurred with the past year, year and a half, here,” Fellman said. “As a Jewish community, we are looking at it through slightly different eyes.”

Nearby at Sha’arei Torah Orthodox Congregation of Syracuse, teenagers were reflecting on their visits to Israel and on their family in the region.

“They see it as Hamas being a terrorist organization that is shooting missiles onto civilian areas,” Rabbi Evan Shore said. “They can’t understand why the world seems to be supporting terrorism over Israel.”

In Colorado, a high school senior at Denver Jewish Day School said he was frustrated at the lack of nuance in the public conversation. When his social media apps filled with pro-Palestinian memes last week, slogans like “From the river to the sea” and “Zionism is a call for an apartheid state,” he deactivated his accounts.

“The conversation is so unproductive, and so aggressive, that it really stresses you out,” Jonas Rosenthal, 18, said. “I don’t think that using that message is helpful for convincing the Israelis to stop bombing Gaza.”

Compared with their elders, younger American Jews are overrepresented on the ends of the religious affiliation spectrum: a higher share are secular, and a higher share are Orthodox.

Ari Hart, 39, an Orthodox rabbi in Skokie, Illinois, has accepted the fact that his Zionism makes him unwelcome in some activist spaces where he would otherwise be comfortable. College students in his congregation are awakening to that same tension, he said. “You go to a college campus and want to get involved in anti-racism or social justice work, but if you support the state of Israel, you’re the problem,” he said.

Hart sees increasing skepticism in liberal Jewish circles over Israel’s right to exist. “This is a generation who are very moved and inspired by social justice causes and want to be on the right side of justice,” Hart said. “But they’re falling into overly simplistic narratives, and narratives driven by true enemies of the Jewish people.”

Overall, younger American Jews are less attached to Israel than older generations: About half of Jewish adults under 30 describe themselves as emotionally connected to Israel, compared with about two-thirds of Jews over age 64, according to a major survey published last week by the Pew Research Center.

And though the U.S. Jewish population is 92% white, with all other races combined accounting for 8%, among Jews ages 18 to 29 that rises to 15%.

In Los Angeles, Rachel Sumekh, 29, a first-generation Iranian American Jew, sees complicated layers in the story of her own Persian family. Her mother escaped Iran on the back of a camel, traveling by night until she got to Pakistan, where she was taken in as a refugee. She then found asylum in Israel. She believes Israel has a right to self-determination, but she also found it “horrifying” to hear an Israeli ambassador suggest other Arab countries should take in Palestinians.

“That is what happened to my people and created this intergenerational trauma of losing our homeland because of hatred,” she said.

The entire situation feels too volatile and dangerous for many people to even want to discuss, especially publicly.

Violence against Jews is increasingly close to home. Last year the third-highest number of anti-Semitic incidents in the United States were recorded since the Anti-Defamation League began cataloging them in 1979, according to a report released by the civil rights group last month. The ADL recorded more than 1,200 incidents of anti-Semitic harassment in 2020, a 10% increase from the previous year. In Los Angeles, the police are investigating a sprawling attack on sidewalk diners at a sushi restaurant Tuesday as an anti-Semitic hate crime.

Outside Cleveland, Jennifer Kaplan, 39, who grew up in a modern Orthodox family and who considers herself a centrist Democrat and a Zionist, remembered studying abroad at Hebrew University in 2002, and being in the cafeteria minutes before it was bombed. Now she wondered how the Trump era had affected her inclination to see the humanity in others, and she wished her young children were a bit older so she could talk with them about what is happening.

“I want them to understand that this is a really complicated situation, and they should question things,” she said. “I want them to understand that this isn’t just a, I don’t know, I guess, utopia of Jewish religion.”

Esther Katz, the performing arts director at the Jewish Community Center in Omaha, Nebraska, has spent significant time in Israel. She also attended Black Lives Matter protests in Omaha last summer and has signs supporting the movement in the windows of her home.

She has watched with a sense of betrayal as some of her allies in that movement have posted online about their apparently unequivocal support for the Palestinians, and compared Israel to Nazi Germany. “I’ve had some really tough conversations,” said Katz, a Conservative Jew. “They’re not seeing the facts, they’re just reading the propaganda.”

Her three children, who range in age from 7 to 13, are now wary of a country that is for Katz one of the most important places in the world. “They’re like, ‘I don’t understand why anyone would want to live in Israel, or even visit,’” she said. “That breaks my heart.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

source https://www.techno-90.com/2021/05/gaza-conflict-stokes-identity-crisis.html

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chromecutie · 4 years

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Not A Ghost - part 42 (epilogue)

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse.

NEW WARNING - fictional police brutality. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Masterlist on my profile!

Taglist: @emma-frxst @ra-ra-rasputiin @holamor @empressme-bitch @marvel-is-perfection @hazilyimagine @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash @whitewitchdown @master-sass-blast @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen @emberbent @leo-writer @silver-stormy . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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Three years later.

After the Icebox rescue, Piotr had taken another leave of absence from the X-Men until he was sure Rhonda could take care of herself. The Rasputins argued for months about whether he should rejoin at all, knowing all too keenly the possibility of being snatched up by the DMC. They had settled on a reluctant compromise that he would alternate a month of active duty with a month off.

Rhonda never rejoined the X-Men, and never again tagged along with Piotr on a mission, no matter how Wade tried to bait her. She did, however, hammer into every single active duty member about being careful and made them promise that if they ran into DMC, to either kill them or run. Scott and some of the other members shook their heads and whispered about Rhonda being paranoid, but Piotr, Ororo, Ellie, Yukio, Hank, and Kurt knew better, and they frequently drilled simulations of fighting the DMC. Just in case.

When Piotr eventually resumed active duty, Rhonda was so anxious that she would be nauseous until he came home. Though she had been resistant to getting into therapy at first, she’d found an unexpected friend in Michelle. When they got past their tension and awkwardness of seeing each other as “the other woman,” Michelle made a lot of helpful suggestions. Rhonda started seeing someone Michelle had highly recommended - a therapist who was also a mutant and specialized in helping other mutants. They worked together well, and over time Rhonda worked past her trauma to a life she cherished.

A dance class sprang up at the Xavier School. It wasn’t quite ballet or modern dance, but it encouraged students to seek out multiple forms of dance and see how they can fit together. Rhonda studied and gained certification to teach aerial silks and started teaching a handful of students in an additional silks class. Yukio was her first silks student, and she became a skilled aerialist in her own right.

Rhonda found she enjoyed making choreography and videos to her favorite songs. She got her prison tattoos completely covered with a floral pattern that matched the zhostovo tray from her in-laws, just like the way Piotr had painted on her a few times. It was a lengthy process, but once her cover-up sleeve was done, Rhonda started posting videos under the pseudonym Zhostovo. When her following had built enough that people in the comments were begging for lessons, she realized she had outgrown the single room in the Xavier house.

A short drive away, Piotr and Rhonda found a great spot to build a larger studio. There was enough space to teach good sized classes and with the equipment put away, it converted to a beautiful soundstage for recording videos. Friends frequently visited and collaborated - Cable moved the camera or Rhonda herself for dreamlike effects, Russell had developed incredibly fine control with his abilities and was sometimes asked to help with some pyrotechnics. Piotr, Ellie, Yukio, and Wade found themselves in front of the camera a few times when Rhonda asked them to feature or perform a duet with her. Yukio was by far her favorite silks collaborator - it helped that they had similar electric abilities and made that part of their choreography as well.

Piotr lent his talents to paint gorgeous backdrops for some of the videos, and painted murals around the exterior of the studio, which eventually came to be called the Rasputin Performing Arts Center.

The court case against the DMC was messy, to say the least. Including Rhonda, there had been nine mutants who had been proven to be kidnapped and thrown into the Icebox with none of their rights honored - no phone call, no lawyer, nothing. For most of the Icebox Nine, as the media had called them, there weren’t even records of them in the Department of Mutant Control’s databases. The DMC itself dodged and weaved around accusations, using the lack of official record to try to discredit the prosecution, declaring it a ridiculous conspiracy theory.

Public perception was mired in reconciling the facts that there were many dangerous criminal mutants imprisoned in the Icebox, and also many who had been detained illegally - the true number of which was impossible to determine if they weren’t even on record. Never mind guessing how many had died over the years before they could be rescued. People didn’t want to believe both things were possible and true, and it gave Rhonda and Piotr a sick feeling their case would ultimately go nowhere, no matter how determined their attorney was.

Rumor had it that the DMC had closed the Icebox and had built a new prison in an undisclosed location. Professor Charles Xavier enlisted hackers to once again find whatever plans they could, but came up dry.

The Zhostovo YouTube channel grew quickly. Zhostovo herself was known for incredibly expressive choreography. At first, her videos were uncut wide shots of her rolling some floorwork across her studio space, or wrapped in silks in the air with her hair dyed to match, or sometimes moving through thin air, suspended by nothing the camera could see. She started with performing to songs from the early 2000s, before branching out to more recent hits. Her videos became more complex, with multiple camera angles, close ups, and special effects that at first viewers assumed were digital, until she published a video revealing that she was a mutant, and introduced the other mutants who helped make her videos by adding fire, fog, glowing sparks, and numerous other effects. In a matter of months, maybe a year, people started saying they preferred her videos over the musicians’ official, record label-produced videos.

Zhostovo’s performances for “Work Song” and “Someone New” by Hozier were what skyrocketed her channel’s popularity. There was a bone-chilling soulfulness she poured into those that resonated with many Hozier fans. Zhostovo made a few TV appearances, always flanked by her husband, whose steel form towered over everyone else, and at least one other mutant from the group she had introduced in her videos. She wasn’t young, but her hair was always dyed bright colors, and she had flower petals tattooed on one cheek, matching the folk painting style of the sleeve on her right arm. She was also an outspoken mutant rights activist, and made it clear that she wanted to show the world - humans and mutants alike - that extraordinary abilities can be used for fun and art and self-expression. She emphasized that most mutants were not the violent monsters conservative news stations made them out to be, and that believing them would cost lives every day.

On an early spring day, when things were green but there was still a little chill in the air if the sun wasn't out, Rhonda and Piotr were having a picnic on her grave, a special date they did a few times a year. The plot had been converted into a little garden, with just enough of a clear spot in the middle to fit two people having lunch. The granite headstone still stood with the erroneous year of death chipped away, but it was surrounded with rosemary and wildflowers. The season’s first bees bobbed along, looking for the most open flowers, and Rhonda’s grave was easily the brightest and most lively spot in the private cemetery.

Rhonda’s smile tugged at the flower petal tattoos that covered the old prison tear drops. She gently waved a bee away from her sandwich before taking a bite. Piotr plucked a little sprig of rosemary and added the leaves to his sandwich before starting in on it.

“You’re quiet today,” Piotr observed. “You seem like you’re in a good mood, but quiet.” He sipped some of the white wine they had packed. He had armored down, and was now able to hold it for hours at a time. He'd kept his beard - it was thick, neatly trimmed, and had just gotten its first touches of grey.

Her eyes crinkled more as she smiled around her bite of food. When she swallowed, she took a deep breath. “I got an email this morning,” she began. “I didn’t wanna say anything about it until I was sure it was real, you know?”

Piotr regarded his wife carefully, playful suspicion growing. “Sladkaya, an email from who?”

The cemetery was quiet, but she looked around anyway, as if checking for an unwelcome eavesdropper. The wildflowers and herbs rustled in the breeze. She grinned so big Piotr was sure he could count all her teeth. Her shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath, “Hozier wants to collaborate on a music video. A real one, not the copyright infringement videos I do.”

Piotr almost dropped his sandwich before he remembered it was in his hand. He set it down and reached for her. Rhonda jumped to her feet and hugged his head to her stomach, both laughing. “That’s wonderful news!” His fingers pressed into her thighs. “Amazing! Is it for a new song? Or one already out?”

She was bouncing with excitement and squealing for a solid minute or two before she sat down again, still fidgeting and twisting with excitement. “I think a new one! His people sent over a contract and an NDA I have to sign before I can hear the song he wants to work on. Do you think Matthew would look it over? I know he’s not an entertainment lawyer, but a contract’s a contract, right?”

“We can ask,” he agreed as they toasted their plastic wine glasses. He watched her eyes sparkle with tears of excitement, the way her curls bounced as she laughed, dyed dark green to match the foliage in her tattoo. The lush blooms and leaves that filled her arm still had a raised texture of the Xs they covered if you looked closely, but the black spaces and gold scrollwork were striking any time she moved. “Is this what you wanted when we were young?” he asked.

“When I thought I was gonna go to Julliard and join a dance troupe?” She thought for a long minute, then shook her head. “It’s better.”

They shared beaming smiles, Piotr’s eyes brimming with tears for his wife's joy, when a fat little bumble bee landed on one of the flowers on Rhonda’s arm. “Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “Hold still, Sladkaya.”

He pulled out the camera he always brought along for these picnics, and captured the moment of Rhonda's surprise, noticing the bee on her tattoo, as she delicately held her wine glass with her four fingered right hand, her gravestone behind her, sunlight playing on her forest green curls.

#not a ghost #piotr rasputin x oc #cooossus x oc #deadpool fanfic #xmen fanfic #colossus #marvel #piotr rasputin

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gra-sonas · 4 years

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With only two episodes left to Season 2 of The CW series Roswell, New Mexico, questions are piling up and everyone is desperate for answers, as the town welcomes CrashCon and Liz (Jeanine Mason) and Max (Nathan Parsons) find themselves trying to piece together who’s behind a potentially deadly plan targeting the popular festival. Before all is said and done, there are sure to be life-or-death stakes to survive, heart-wrenching choices to endure, big moves to make, and loose ends to be tied.

During this 1-on-1 phone interview with Collider, actress Jeanine Mason talked about what it was like to make it to Season 2, getting to have a much deeper understanding of her character, what she’s learned about leading a TV series, seeing Liz come to terms with the fact that she can’t solve every problem, having her past come back into her life, the affect CrashCon will have on Roswell, her reaction to the Season 2 finale, and how Shiri Appleby has inspired her.

Collider: You’ve previously talked about doing seven pilots and a couple of TV shows that only had one season. What was it like to learn that you’d have a second season for this show, and then to also now have a third season pick-up?

JEANINE MASON: It’s crazy. It’s so bonkers. I’ve been hoping for this, for so long, that it was so cool to get that pick-up news. It’s layers of confronting the excitement and the nervousness, of course. But the most honest one for me was, I sat down, as I do every year, to work with my acting coach, who’s half of my brain, and in our first session, we started breaking down the script and I said, “Okay, so in the pilot . . .” I assumed it was the pilot again, instead of Episode 201, and he was like, “No, no, no, this is 201.” I was like, “Oh, my god, it’s 201. We’ve gotten to 201. This is crazy!” It was awesome. That was my personal favorite moment, in which it hit me that this was no longer starting from the beginning. We were getting to move forward from having a really deep understanding of these characters.

From what you just said, clearly your acting coach is important to you. Was that something that you sought out having? Was that something that you always felt like you wanted to have there for you?

MASON: It’s the way that I’ve always worked. It’s the way I was, as a dancer, as well, before this. I’m just someone who operates as an athlete, as well as an artist, in whatever I’m doing. So, it makes sense to me to have coaches. It’s also a celebration of the collaboration of it all, which is ultimately my favorite thing about this. Different people contribute and are pieces of the puzzle, and to see it all come together, it’s not just one person’s effort, so it makes sense to me to get the opinions of the people that I admire most. Along with my acting coach, I have a good girlfriend, who’s an actress, an activist, and a Chicana. I’m Cuban, so she’s another person that I lean on, a lot. She’s been indispensable for me in this process, as well. I’m just someone who loves the collaboration of it and loves having help. I love leaning on people.

How does it feel to return to a show where you’ve already set up the character, in the first season, and established these relationships that she has? What’s been the most fun about digging even deeper, in the second season?

MASON: The most rewarding thing about it has been the moments in which it really pays off, on set. We all are in a groove now, and the moments in which Lily [Cowles] will suggest a joke for Isobel, and it gets a reaction out of myself and Liz that we can possibly feel, is spot on. That’s the best feeling in the world. That is Season 2. That is the delight of having a second round.

This is also your first time leading a show. Does that get any easier in Season 2, or is it even more challenging, as they give you more because they know you can do more?

MASON: I think they would say that they’re definitely doing that, and I love it. I feel like I’m more confident and I’ve acquired a lot of skills from Season 1, that I am more proficient at now. That being said, the nature of this job is that there’s always more to learn, and I’m learning, every day, things that are just taking it up a notch. It’s asking me to be a better and more consistent number one, and I love that about this, so much. The most rewarding bit of this job has been seeing how much being in this leadership position teaches you. I always knew that. I always knew, of course, you’re gonna learn, and you’re gonna have more time on camera, more say, and more of an impact, but actually being in it, it’s insane to me. Every day, I go to work nervous because I know it’s like, “Okay, let me try to be on my game,” because I know new things are gonna be asked of me, and that’s huge. I feel like I lead every season, like an acting titan. It’s great.

Did you also have to figure out how to mentally and physically keep that up? When you’re doing 13 episodes a season, and each one has to have the same level of energy as the last one, how do you keep that consistent? Does your dance background help with that?

MASON: My dance background helps so much with that. I am so grateful. I remember being in dance class and having my teacher say to me and to all of us that, regardless of where we wanted to go or what we wanted to do, this was preparing us. I really do believe that athletics, but particularly dance, because it’s the athlete and the artist together, in a way that doesn’t really exist much, except for maybe ice skating, and I’m always amazed by the way that prepares me. I think the mindset stuff is the biggest, and that is my dad’s realm. He’s just fed me a little bit of that sports mentality, for years. Even on set, people will laugh because our camera operator and I will be talking about something and I’ll equate it to baseball, but that’s my dad. That’s the way my brain works. I’ll be like, “Okay, let’s give it another at bat.” When it gets tough and people get tired, that’s when people start to get sloppy and that’s when I can trust that I will stay on the straight and narrow. That’s a huge relief to me because then I know that I can utilize the rest of my brain to try to connect to that ephemeral thing of, can I give a great performance?

You’ve said that you knew, early on, that Max was going to die at the end of the season and that Rosa was going to be resurrected. What was your reaction, when you first heard that, and how do you feel now about the way that all played out and how that’s affected the second season?

MASON: I loved it, immediately. I thought it was so brave and that it honored the sci-fi nature of our show, but it felt impossible to connect to that amount of grief and elation, and the blurry way that they cross over each other. I immediately got excited about trying to figure that out for Liz and trying to play with that big of an event. That’s the cool thing about doing a sci-fi show. You get these big stakes moments that very rarely exists in shows that are just about mere mortals. Acting wise, it’s just like the Olympics. So, that felt really exciting for our show, and I was pumped about it. And then, the way it played out, I thought was quite brave, as well, and right for Liz, in that it was such an immediate thing for Max to save her, as the catalyst for our show and our pilot episode, but it’s not as immediate for Liz. We were able to get those five episodes of her and the Scooby gang bringing him back to life, and I loved every bit of seeing her work through her grief and her frustration, and having that fuel her work. It felt really human and honest, in an impossible situation.

Now, the two of them both have things that they’re dealing with, that Liz can’t really help them through. They have to get through these things they’re dealing with on their own. What’s it like for her to have these two people that she loves, back in her life, but also see them going through these things that she can’t really help them with?

MASON: It’s so hard for Liz. She likes to be able to take care of people, and she’s a problem solver. When it comes to her people, the woman will mountains, without question. So, for her to not be able to solve this for them, kills her, but she has to learn. That’s what I love about a protagonist that’s truly on a journey. I’m so sick of shows, where there’s nothing to be learned or earned for your protagonist. She has to let go. She has to realize that this is Rosa’s journey, and as much as she wants to be like, “Sit here and let me make it work,” Rosa is like, “Girl, I’ve gotta go to rehab. Lemme be.” Rosa is right, and Liz is learning. It’s really fun to watch her try.

Liz has had to deal with the return of Rosa, the return of Mama Ortecho, and now Diego is back in her life. What’s it like for her to have her past reuniting with her present? How is she able to handle all of that, with everything that she’s been through?

MASON: Yeah. What I loved about Mama Ortecho and Diego coming right now is that, we all go through changes and every decade we can notice shifts, but the shift that has happened in Liz’s life, in this two-year period is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to her. She was so closed off. She was someone who kept you at arms length. She was someone who was used to running. She was someone who felt very abandoned. The first season is her heart getting pried open. So, for the two of them to come in, it really felt like whiplash. It might have just been a year, but she’s such a different person now. So, that was really exciting to me. It was fun to imagine the little flashbacks with Diego, where we could go back to her life pre her return to Roswell, pre-Max, pre knowing there are aliens in the world. To see her then, you really get a sense of how far you’ve already been with her, how far you’ve seen her go, and how happy you are for where she is right now. I liked that it clued the fans back into that.

I think it’s fun that you’ll be having a CrashCon episode (Episode 212), which pays homage to the original series and their UFO Convention episode. What can you say about having this convention in town, the attention that brings, and how that’ll affect the story?

MASON: Oh, man, it’s so fun. It’s gives you so much OG Roswell nostalgia. It’s pretty great. There are a couple of really fun Easter eggs, and we just kept dying on set, every time we encountered posters that said things. We were just like, “That’s really good. Good work, writers.” It’s huge. What I love about The CW is that there’s always an episode, or a pair of episodes, centered around a big event. Last year, we had the gala, and this year, it’s this. Small town events are massive. Everybody’s out. With the amount of extras and the costume pieces, and the creativity of our wardrobe department and our props department, in dressing everybody in alien and sci-fi and actual properties that get little nods, I think it’s gonna be a feast for the eyes. I think it’s gonna be so visually beautiful. I was impressed. I read a script and get so excited by the writer’s ideas, and then we get to set and we try to figure out the logistics, three times over, and how to do it justice and do right by the excitement of the words. These last two episodes, that happen in the convention/carnival, exceeded everything that I had imagined and it was incredible to see. I can’t wait for people to see. I really think the last two episodes are gonna have people on the edge of their seat.

Without giving away spoilers, what was your reaction to reading the finale and seeing how things would end up for this season, and how do you think fans will react to it?

MASON: The beautiful thing about this season is that things have been weaving in and out, and so much has been set up, in a way that fans are conscious about it. There’s so much stuff that you wouldn’t have thought twice about, that’s gonna come back, and there are so many people that we’ve met, even in passing, who are gonna have such prominence, in the last two episodes. They’re so full. So much is connected and a lot is revealed, in terms of the mythology of our world. But then, there are also personal decisions made that are heartbreaking and that are really not where some characters thought they would find themselves, for sure not at the beginning of the season and definitely not even a week before this whole convention goes down. I’m proud of the decision that characters make, to look out for themselves, but it definitely sets us up for a lot of complication to sort through in Season 3.

Max has been finding out some new and unexpected things about his alien side. Will we also see that affect his relationship with Liz?

MASON: Yeah, absolutely. That’s a lot of what I’m trying to dance around. I’ve gotten some little hints, as to where we’re going for Season 3, and our show is about otherness. That’s what it is and has been, from day one, and feeling other. You can’t help but wonder when you’ll be satiated and when you’ll feel like you have enough information, either in front of you or historically, to feel like you’re happy with where you are. Ultimately, a lot of our characters are still asking those questions for themselves.

Have you also started to have conversations about how to go back to work and make sure that it is safe for everyone?

MASON: Absolutely. It’s been really inspiring to see the way that everyone is so willing to be creative and to take it very seriously, to figure out a way that we can get back to work, but do so safely. Everyone is just guessing, right now, and a lot of the suggestions range in possibilities, but the main thing we’re all saying is that we’re grateful that we’re now going to be a Season 3 show. We feel confident and we feel like we got in such a groove by Season, as a production, that I’m excited we’ll be able to get back to set. Even in honoring all of the protocol that we have to, I feel like we’ll be able to just connect back to the well-oiled machine that we are now. That is just a really gorgeous gift.

What’s it been like to be directed by Shiri Appleby? She’s been an actress for many years, she’s led a show more than once, herself, and she even played Liz in the original Roswell series. What sort of insight do you feel that gives her, as a director, that makes her different from everybody else?

MASON: The woman is a dream. People always ask me about what’s been the most surprising thing about being number one, and the most surprising thing is that I like it. I didn’t know how it would feel on me, and I love it. I hope to have a career like Shiri, where I get to do this again and again. I admire her because the reason she’s had that career is because she’s such a boss. She is 100, constantly. The woman is a machine, and it’s really just inspiring to be around her to see her life force at work. I’m a huge Shiri Appleby fan. I cannot wait for her to be back for Season 3, to direct us again. Every time she’s there, it’s fun to just pick her brain and get her advice. ’m living in New York now, and that was something I read by Shiri. She was like, “Oh, hell yeah, go to New York.” And I was like, “Okay.”

Has she inspired you to want to step behind the camera, at some point? Is directing something that you’re also looking to do?

MASON: Yeah. I’ve directed for stage. I love it, and I wanna do more of it. As of late, I’ve gotten more inspired. I think it’s also because I’m in New York and, prior to the pandemic, was seeing so much theater. I’m excited about just getting involved out here more, and finding my people out here. So, directing for stage excites me. It just brings back my dancing and all of the things I love about physicality and relation. I love the medium and the palette that is the stage. I’m excited about that, right now. But, we’ll see. Maybe, eventually, working with the camera will be exciting. To be honest, where I’m at right now, in my journey, is excitement about working with directors that I love. That will be next, hopefully.

Do you have a dream list of directors that you’d like to do a project?

MASON: Oh, man, so many. I would love to work with Guillermo Del Toro. He has such a love of cinema and a love of movement, and I love his brand of magic. I would love to play in his movies. It would be so fun. I have a lot of film aspirations. That’s the next frontier. I’ve always had aspirations to work with great filmmakers, absolutely, but now, it’s changed to great filmmakers who seem like a great time. I’m getting older. My 30s are coming, and what I really wanna do is spend my time, preciously. I wanna be with my family, and if I’m gonna be working, then I wanna be working with legit and delightful people. Hopefully, that’ll be the 30s.

~ Collider

#jeanine mason #roswell new mexico #rnm 2x12 #rnm cast interviews #rnm spoilers

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waylonvwok573 · 4 years

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' Serbian' stayed the number 1 search for one more year, adhered to by 'Srpski Pornici' which acquired 259 areas in the previous year.

Greece rates 32nd for traffic pertaining to Pornhub, with the typical go to lasting 11 minutes 7 secs, as well as 27% of the web traffic being women. The most browsed term by a large margin is 'Greek', adhered to by 'lesbian' which went up 16 settings in 2019. Look for 'footjob' expanded by 998%, along with a 924% boost for 'big boobs' and also 921% for 'homemade'. Visitors from Greece are 149% most likely to check out the 'feet' category when contrasted to the rest of the world, along with 68% a lot more into 'double infiltration' and 62% much more right into 'rectal' videos.

This Week In Sex: Even More Porn Stars Examination Hiv.

The UK based activist group Not Your Porn was started by the pal of a woman whose iCloud storage had actually been hacked, bring about the hacker publishing raunchy photos as well as video clips on Pornhub alongside her full name. Pornhub removed the video clip when reported, however duplicates of the video clip using her complete name reproduced faster than the videos were gotten rid of. The woman located that "the fractured interaction system at Pornhub has actually indicated this has actually come to be a progressively extremely painful procedure". The creator of Not Your Pornography reported that fifty women called her over a six-month duration about non-consensual on-line pornography including them, thirty of whom reported that the video clips were uploaded to Pornhub.

Gauleporno.

he information that 350,000 people-- as well as counting-- have actually signed a request calling on Pornhub-- the world's most popular porn site-- to stop posting non-consensual videos and also marketing them as "porn" is not unexpected to me. Pornhub has hosted events and also projects to increase awareness of breast cancer.

Cyprus ranks 91st for website traffic to Pornhub, with 36% of site visitors being women, and the ordinary browse through size being 10 mins and 40 secs. While 'Greek' stayed one of the most prominent search for one more year, look for 'Cypriot' moved into 2nd location.

Luxembourgh rankings 105th for traffic to Pornhub, with 34% of visitors being female as well as the average check out duration being 9 minutes 54 secs. ' Luxembourg' remained the leading look for one more year, but 'MILF' went up 8 settings to become the 2nd most prominent. Searches for 'femdom' expanded by 423% contrasted to 2018, and 'hentai' was additionally up 288%. ' Anal' is the category of video clip most often seen by site visitors from Luxembourg, but when compared to the rest of the globe, they are 390% more likely to check out the 'German' classification and 237% a lot more right into 'French'.

Pornhub functions online fact video clips which enable 360 ° checking out for costs consumers. It can be made use of with the PlayStation Virtual Reality, though video clips need to be downloaded and install from a computer and transferred by means of USB.

Traffic throughout all of Europe complied with a similar fad as more individuals were functioning as well as remaining at house, as well as many borders started to shut. Total European traffic was up 8.2% on March 17th, with the largest rises from 2am to 4am, adhered to by a -1.4% dip at 7am. Web traffic was changed for the specific time zone of all European visitors. The following graph from Pornhub's 2019 Year in Evaluation reveals the moments of the day that individuals typically go to Pornhub. Peak times are 10pm to Twelve o'clock at night, while early morning traffic is lower while the majority of people are still asleep.

The very first of these occasions occurred in New york city City on 24 April 2012, with the intro of the "Boob Bus", which used totally free bust examinations for passers-by, in addition to mentor soul-searching techniques to utilize in your home. For every 30 videos watched in Pornhub's "large tit" or "tiny tit" classification in the month of October, the website used to donate a dime to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. Nevertheless, the Susan G. Komen Foundation denied the offer, specifying that they were not a companion of Pornhub, would certainly decline their donations and also asked the company to quit utilizing their name.

A total of 74,146,928 video sights were enjoyed, equating to approximately $24,716 worth of contributions, which Pornhub subsequently tripled to $75,000. Contributions were split among a number of charities, including the Eileen Stein Jacoby Fund as well as Cancer Cells Sucks Inc . In 2019, the official Girls Do Porn network, confirmed by Pornhub, was gotten rid of from the site. On 10 October 2019, both owners and also 2 employees were apprehended on three matters of sex trafficking by force, scams, as well as browbeating, after a civil legal action submitted in July. The channel was removed a week afterwards, which reporters at Daily Dot as well as Motherboard stated was a slow-moving action to the occurrence.

Modeled after the porn site, ScrubHub has hundreds of videos of day-to-day individuals as well as pick adult artists cleaning their hands-- some filed under normal porn categories like BDSM, Bear, and Feet. Pornhub say that instances of child sexual abuse rarely appear on the platform, but an examination by the #NotYourPorn project working with the Times last year found, with just a short search, a number of youngster sexual assault pictures on the website. Uncomfortably, these video clips can be found in under 5 mins. Tags like "stolen inebriated teenager video" or "public flash to girl" and "young teenager snapchat leak" promoted these youngster misuse images even further. Although we gaymaletube reported these video clips, it took a number of days for any type of activity to be taken.

No Milfs, No Squirting, No Gang Bangs: Just How The Porn Sector Is Transforming Throughout Covid.

Pornhub had actually confirmed the kid victim as well as unintentionally confessed to complicity in her trafficking, but later on erased their admission. Modeled after the big porn website, ScrubHub has hundreds of videos of everyday people as well as select adult performers cleaning their hands-- some filed under typical pornography classifications like BDSM, Bear, and Feet. A lot of the videos are scandalously titled to seem even more like porn than basic video clips of people scrubbing their hands, making use of hand sanitizer, as well as cleansing.

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yasbxxgie · 4 years

Video

youtube

Breaking Bones, Breaking Barriers: Black Stuntmen Honored at African American History Museum

Greg Wayne Elam knows what it’s like to face adversity.

In 1976, he was a strapping 29-year-old stuntman trying to make his mark in Hollywood. While on the set of the film “King Kong” he was charged with scaling a 60-foot telephone pole, dressed only in a loincloth. Elam gradually inched his way up the narrow structure, only to learn that the stabilizing safety device that the stunt coordinator had assured him would be at the top, was not there.

He had two options: plunge to the ground and risk losing the gig (not to mention, life or limb) or hold on for dear life. He chose the latter.

“I had on a G-string, it was the month of February and the wind was blowing and that pole was shaking,” remembers Elam, 69, with a chuckle. “I just held on tight. About two hours went by; it had gotten to a point where I didn’t have any circulation left in my legs. I couldn’t feel my legs at all.”

As if the situation couldn’t get worse, the crew filmed his scene from various angles and then went on to shoot others without signaling to Elam that he was cleared to come down. Fellow black stuntmen Ernie Robinson and Richard Washington ultimately came to his rescue on the set, helping him down with a crane-like device known as a scissor lift.

“They weren’t hiring black stuntmen in Hollywood back then, so when we did get work they would challenge us on the set,” recalls Elam, of Orange County, California, who went on to snag high-profile stunt work for popular black stars Michael Jackson, Richard Pryor and Gregory Hines among others. “We just took the challenge until they recognized us as stuntmen. We fought for the right to have equal opportunity. We didn’t do it for glory, we did it because it was the right thing to do.”

Elam and fellow members of the Black Stuntmen's Association (BSA) – many of whom had also endured overt racial discrimination in the film and television industry: such as threats of physical harm, name calling and being shut out of jobs altogether – were formally honored at the Sept. 24 grand opening of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African American History and Culture.

BSA memorabilia, props, photos and news articles are featured in the entertainment-themed “Taking The Stage” exhibit. Members of the group hope to meet President and Mrs. Obama who are both scheduled to attend and make remarks at the star-studded affair at the National Mall's newest landmark museum.

“The Smithsonian? This is just unbelievable,” gushes Stone Mountain, Ga.- based character actor Alexander Folk, 70, who bonded with BSA members during his brief stint as a stuntman in the 80s. “When we were working out and doing stunts together, never did we think in our wildest dreams that something like this would come. That’s where not giving up comes into play. This honor is a testament to the fact that your wildest dreams will come to pass if you don’t give up. This honor is long overdue.”

A group of 25 black stuntmen came together in 1967 to found the BSA, which celebrates its 50th anniversary next year, in an effort to generate jobs for African American stuntmen. It also provided a safe space for stuntmen – and eventually stuntwomen of all races too – to bond, vent, network and hone their craft.

When the BSA took legal action against the major motion picture studios 40 years ago their main goal was to eradicate the widespread practice known as “painting down” in which white male actors essentially wore blackface. Stuntmen dressed up as women often stood in for actresses, leaving many stuntwomen unemployed too.

BSA members filed Equal Employment Opportunity charges against the major studios in 1976 and ultimately secured a settlement agreement. As a result of their groundbreaking lawsuit, current BSA head Willie Harris says the major studios, including Paramount, Fox, Disney, and Warner Bros. were forced to pay stunt performers of color an undisclosed amount of money in damages.

U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, a former Equal Employment Opportunity Commission chief, actually helped them secure the lawyer who argued the case.

“Even though the black stuntmen fought tirelessly to get the major studios to end this disgraceful and racist practice some 40 years ago, as recently as 2014, Warner Bros. was slammed for painting down a white [stuntwoman] on the set of the show 'Gotham.' This is Hollywood’s dirty little secret that they don’t want you to know,” said Nonie L. Robinson, granddaughter of late BSA Founding President Robinson, who is best known for his stunts on the “Miami Vice" television series, as well as the films “King Kong,” the original “Planet of the Apes" and "Greased Lightning.”

“When we started there were no black producers, cameramen, directors, makeup artists and lots of other positions,” asserts Harris, 75, of Las Vegas. “After our lawsuit the big studios had no choice but to start hiring them too. When the Civil Rights Movement was going on in this country, we were doing the same kind of fight in Hollywood and we won. We were the pioneers; we changed the industry for the better. Because of us, folks like Denzel [Washington], Samuel [Jackson], Will [Smith], Jamie [Foxx] Morgan Freeman and Tyler Perry now have access to better roles.”

Three years earlier, in 1973, the BSA took on American Honda Motor Co. Inc., accusing the company of refusing to hire black actors and stuntmen for its television commercials. The job discrimination lawsuit, which was endorsed by the United Auto Workers Union, asserted that over a three-year period, only three black performers out of 120 were used in 27 Honda motorcycle commercials aired on television. Honda reps formally denied any wrongdoing, but Harris says a spokesperson pointedly told their lawyer, “blacks didn’t show a good image on television.”

Harris says embattled actor and comedian of late Bill Cosby is widely lauded as being the first of the major black Hollywood stars – an exceptionally small number at the time – to demand that a black stuntman be hired to double for him on the set of his 60’s era television series “I, Spy.” Actors Harry Belafonte, Lou Gossett Jr. and Sidney Poitier also reportedly pushed for inclusion.

The BSA is also known for promoting equality for stuntwomen, ultimately becoming the first professional organization of its kind to invite women of all hues to join. “You can call it a movement, a struggle or a fight, but overall [the BSA] was about increasing opportunities for African Americans in the entertainment industry,” says veteran stuntwoman Jadie David, 66, who worked as actress Pam Grier’s stunt double during the blaxploitation film era. “It was called the Black Stuntmen’s Association, but their fight evolved to include people of color, women and all marginalized people in the entertainment industry.”

Robinson, of Los Angeles, will be joining the BSA “pioneers” during their trip to D.C. to shoot footage for a documentary she is working on, chronicling their “untold” and “courageous” story of breaking down “the barriers of race and gender in Hollywood against incredible and dangerous odds.”

“Many times they didn’t have the proper safety equipment or airbags; they literally put their lives on the line every day,” adds Robinson. “Once they got on those sets, they didn’t know if they would make it home [alive] or not. They paid a high price for inclusion.”

Robinson says famed music producer Quincy Jones is executive producer for the aptly titled “Breaking Bones, Breaking Barriers,” which Robinson is producing with Cecilia Peck, the film’s director and daughter of famed actor Gregory Peck. The full-length feature is set to be released in 2017 and will include interviews with BSA members, activists, journalists, Smithsonian reps and Academy Award-winning actors Gossett Jr. and Whoopi Goldberg.

In 2012, the BSA received an NAACP Image Award; state legislators in California, Mississippi and Nevada have also celebrated the organization. Most members agree, however, that being a part of a Smithsonian exhibit feels like a once-in-a-lifetime honor.

As for Elam, it seems he landed on his feet in more ways than one, when he managed to get down that telephone pole 40 years ago. He went into full retirement in 2010, after many years working as a stuntman, leading a highly-sought-after stunt training class and also working as the stunt coordinator for many films, including “Deep Cover,” “Hoodlum” and “The Color Purple.”

He has officially passed the torch; all three of his adult sons, Ousaun, Kiante and Kofi now work as stuntmen for some of the most elite black film stars: Samuel Jackson, Morgan Freeman, Will Smith, Don Cheadle and Jamie Foxx.

Harris says he and his BSA colleagues take pride in knowing that they helped pave the way: “We were the ones who opened the door.”

[v]

Photographs:

The Black Stuntmen Association circa 1965

Stuntwoman Jadie David, bottom, hits the ground after jumping from a derailing rollercoaster during the filming of the 1977 film "RollerCoaster." The fall broke her back.

Pioneer Stuntman and Stunt Coordinator Ernie Robinson and Philip Michael Thomas on the set of "Miami Vice" in the 1980's

Pioneer Stuntman Ernie Robinson dressed as the character "Tubbs" from "Miami Vice", pictured with Edward James Olmos in the 1980's

Willie Harris and Alex Brown in 2016

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you-guys--are-losers · 5 years

Note

Your version of the upside down Spidey kiss? :)

//Ooh, yes! I know that I have gotten multiple requests for this prompt, so excited to finally write it!

By the way, if anyone knows who originally created the art below, please let me know! I can’t seem to find who it is and I want to give credit. ;)

A Bit Tangled Up

Summary: When the opportunity presents itself, MJ decides to try her hand at the classic “Spider-Man” kiss.

Warnings: Language, Second-Hand Embarrassment ;)

Word Count: 3,281

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

“Did you know that there’s a species of ant named after Manhattan?”

MJ’s question reaches Peter’s ear through his headset, and he can practically picture her face as she says it. She’s probably leaning back in her worn desk chair, peering at the laptop that rests on top of her crossed legs. That’s the position he most often finds her in, after all, when he returns to her quiet room in Queens after a night of patrolling. It’s peaceful, really, to know what to expect when he comes back, and the reminder is sort of nice.

At least, it would be if he weren’t trying to fight off three different amateur thieves at once.

“Couldn’t have picked a better time, MJ,” Peter responds, his voice slightly flustered as he dodges one poorly-aimed shot, then another.

The man holding the gun appears confused, and his brow furrows beneath the stupid ski-mask he is wearing. “What did you say, asshole?” the man snaps. Though Peter can tell he’s trying to sound gruff, there is an uncertain undertone in his voice.

Peter glances up to focus on him, pausing in his task of selecting a web from Karen. “I wasn’t talking to you. It’s rude to listen in on other peoples’ conversations, man.” With that, Peter sends a taser web his way, and the man’s body spasms before he drops to the ground.

“They found it in Manhattan, and they realized that they hadn’t seen the species before.” MJ’s nonchalant voice enters his ear again, causing a mixed wave of amusement and exasperation to wash over Peter. “Guess what they named it?”

“Um…” Peter’s mind scrambles to try to figure it out as he continues in his task.

One of the other men makes a grab for the fallen gun, which Peter easily webs into his own hand. “Hey, man, really? Taking someone else’s toys isn’t cool.” Peter takes the opportunity to web the man to the ground.

MJ’s voice resumes in Peter’s headset. “Don’t want to alarm you or anything, but there’s a stacked guy like three times your height with a meat cleaver on your left.”

Now, it’s Karen who is speaking in Peter’s ear. “Activate Trochanter Protocol?”

“Go for it. Thanks, Karen,” Peter pants. As he turns, four sets of massive, iron legs erupt from the suit, smacking away the attacker with so much force that the man is flung across the alleyway. “The Big Ant-ple?”

“Come on, Bug Boy, I’m disappointed in you.”

“It’s not exactly the best time,” Peter points out as he turns to face his fallen foe.

“How do you expect to handle decathlon if you can’t perform under pressure?” He can hear a hint of amusement in her voice now, and Peter grins as the guy pulls out a knife and charges him.

“I think I’ll manage,” he responds, raising an eyebrow. Peter raises the legs threateningly, but he makes no move to charge the thug. Instead, he allows his attacker to come to him. When the man is inches away, Peter reacts with lightning-fast reflexes. He grabs the knife between two fingers, using his super-strength to stop the blade in its tracks.

Peter watches as the man, who is still holding the blade, blanches behind the ski mask. “Hey, man, have you ever stuck a fork in an outlet?” Peter questions.

The thug’s eyes widen, but that’s all the warning Karen needs. An electrical charge leaves the fingertips of Peter’s suit, traveling through the blade and then to Peter’s attacker, flowing through his body. Peter allows the charge to flow through his body for a few seconds before letting go. The man falls to the ground, and the blade clatters to the pavement.

“I haven’t, no, but I did make a sculpture involving a fork and a toaster to illustrate the delicate balance between genius and insanity. Does that count?” Peter might be imagining it, but he could swear that MJ’s voice is slightly more relaxed now that he is out of danger.

“I mean, your brain isn’t fried,” Peter reasons, “so I don’t think so. But I appreciate the effort.”

Now that the three are down, there isn’t such a dire need for speed. However, Peter does want to be out of here before the authorities arrive, so he is swift in webbing the cleaver and the gun to the wall.

Once he has finished, Peter leaps into the air, attaching his web to the antenna on top of one of the buildings nearby. Once he has shot up into the air, it is easy swinging, and Peter begins to take the familiar route to MJ’s room.

“ManhattAnt.”

Peter furrows his brow against the cold as he swings into the quiet of MJ’s street. “What did you just say?”

“ManhattAnt. What they named the species of ant.”

A snort escapes Peter as he spots her apartment building. “You’re kidding,” he responds as he lands on the roof of the shorter building next to hers. The gravel shifts slightly beneath his feet, but he stays completely steady as he spots her window, which is eye level with him. Peter shoots a thin stream of web towards her window, nowhere near strong enough to carry him. It is just enough for a little “thunk” to be heard.

There is a rustling of lavender curtains, and a moment later, the window opens. MJ slides the glass pane all the way up, raising an eyebrow. Peter can’t keep his heart from skipping a beat when he sees her. Her messy curls are pulled up into a loose bun, and she’s wearing those glasses with the thick black rims that Peter secretly loves.

“Do you really think I would joke about something this serious, Parker?” MJ prods, raising an eyebrow. “Come on in. I’ve got your glass of bug spray waiting for you.”

MJ moves away from the window, making it easy for Peter to make the quick leap onto her building and to slide in through the window. From there, Peter drops onto her floor and slides the window shut before turning to face her room.

As much as Peter loves coming back to his house, he thinks that MJ’s might be his favorite place to be after patrol. The soft, comforting gray of her walls paired with her gentle salt lamps and the abundance of activist posters, sweet-smelling teas, and comfortable places to sit make her room the perfect contrast to the overstimulating city he spends his nights defending.

It’s not often that he comes here. Normally, she joins Ned in Peter’s room, but Ned had to go on a family trip tonight, so here they are. Peter is perfectly alright with that… In fact, maybe a little bit too alright. He’s been trying to keep the thought out of his mind, but lately, when he’s found out he’s going to be spending time alone with MJ, Peter hasn’t felt the least upset.

In fact, Peter might look forward to spending alone time with his other best friend a little bit too much.

MJ has seated herself in her spinning chair again, though her laptop rests on her bed now as she turns to face him. The chair is still spinning slightly, and one of her legs, clad in Ravenclaw sweatpants, dangles loose. Peter can see a pair of fuzzy socks poking out from under the pants, and for some reason, a twinge of fondness enters him.

“It’s lavender tonight,” she hums, gesturing to a mug perched on the edge of her desk beside a plate of pumpkin bread. She’s holding a mug of what Peter can tell is the same tea.

The warm ceramic feels good in Peter’s hand, even through the suit. Peter lifts up the bottom of his mask in order to sip it, and he lets out a hum as the warm liquid washes down his parched throat. “Is anyone home?” he asks, curious about how soon he has to leave.

“Not tonight,” MJ replies. “Mom took Sonny to see a movie for his birthday, so- did you just drink that whole thing?”

Peter’s mechanical white eyes widen over the now-empty mug, and he offers a sheepish shrug as he sets down the burgundy mug. “It was good,” he defends. “Sweet.”

“That’s because I put a shit-ton of honey in it, loser,” she retorts as he moves on to the pumpkin bread, scarfing it down nearly as fast. “You know, that’s only supposed to work on flies. Not spiders.”

“Sugar is sugar,” Peter replies through the last bit of pumpkin bread, setting down the plate.

“And you take your tea like juice,” MJ responds, settling back in her seat. She takes another sit before adding, “I think you finished that in under a minute.”

“Thanks, MJ,” Peter responds, pulling his mask back down. “Seriously. I know you don’t have to do any of this.”

“Please, Parker. I’d much rather sit on the headset than actually do my homework. We both know that I live to watch Flash’s face when I finish it in ten minutes.”

“You know, one of these days he’s going to figure out that you just memorize the answers that you write out beforehand,” Peter points out, reclining against the wall.

“But it’s so much more fun to let him think I’m a robot,” MJ replies, arching an eyebrow. She sets her half-full mug on her desk, then, peering at him. “So was it a good night, then? All in all? Or did having my genius on the other side of the headset distract you?”

Under her gaze, Peter’s skin seems to crawl beneath the suit. He takes a breath then, glancing towards the window. Suddenly, Peter is in possession of more nervous energy than he knows what to do with, and he needs to move or be consumed on it. Peter turns to her wall, allowing his fingers to stick to it, then unstick.

“Yeah,” he says, trying for nonchalance. “I mean, I got the bad guys, you know? All in a day’s work.” Peter sticks his fingers to the wall again, beginning to climb effortlessly. At least, this way, his back is turned towards her. And besides, he’s done this sort of thing with her and with Ned before while hanging out. It isn’t that weird.

MJ lets out an amused puff of air, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not good at that part, Parker.”

By then, Peter has reached the ceiling of her room, where he is suspended by his fingers and the tips of his toes. Peter peers at her, upside down, and his white eyes on the mask widen conspicuously. “I- What?” Peter stammers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

MJ leans back in the chair, peering at him over the rims of the glasses he likes so much. “That part of superhero-ing,” MJ hums, arching an eyebrow as amusement creeps into her tone. “The part where you have to act all cool and humble and pretend you don’t care.”

“Pfft, I… What?” Peter’s voice rises to the point of almost cracking near the end of the statement, and he allows a thin stream of web to attach him to her ceiling so that he can slowly lower himself, suspended. “I don’t– What are you talking about? I don’t do that-”

“You do, Parker, and you suck at it.” MJ tucks a stray strand of hair away from her face with long, slender fingers, a little motion that succeeds in further erasing every logical thought from Peter’s mind. “It’s alright, though.”

Peter lets out a sharp breath, struggling to control his mess of flustered emotions. Just when he thinks he might have himself at a manageable level of stupidity, though, she says the one thing that could possibly take him right back to square one.

“It’s pretty cute.”

Everything that follows happens so fast. Peter has lost control over everything– including his webbing.

The strands suspending him to the ceiling release, sending him falling sharply. In an effort to keep himself from falling, Peter shoots his web back towards the ceiling, but he is falling at an angle. His efforts at securing himself accomplish two things: one, they actually secure him, and two, Peter succeeds in trapping himself in a tangled cocoon of web.

Maybe this is some sort of twisted karma, Peter reasons as he dangles six feet above MJ’s floor. If this is what every single bad guy he’s webbed feels like, then he understands why they all seem so pissed off. But Peter doesn’t have much time to explore that thought, because at the moment there is only one subject that is pushing itself to the forefront of his mind.

MJ.

MJ thinks he’s cute. Or does she? Wait– did she only mean that his attempt at humility was cute, and not the rest of him? Maybe she had been making fun of him, the way that they always did, as a part of their banter. But then why would she say that, of all things?

And more importantly, why had it had such an effect on him?

As the thoughts about MJ dance around Peter’s mind, he forgets to think about one terribly, crucially important detail: MJ herself. It is not until the webbing turns him towards the desk chair that Peter realizes his mistake. Because MJ is not curled up at her desk with a computer perched in her lap, sipping at tea.

Instead, she is standing from her chair with a slight smirk on her lips, and she is taking a step towards him.

“Um, MJ, I-I…” Peter stammers, sure that his cheeks are the color of his suit beneath the Iron Spider mask. “That was totally intentional. Definitely. And, um, if you could maybe just help me-”

“You want to come down from your cocoon?” MJ prods, her eyes glimmering with a wicked sort of amusement. “Well, it looks like you’ve got yourself in a tangle. I could just leave you here, you know… I mean, I’ve had weirder things hanging in my room before than a Spiderboy. ”

Peter winces. “Right. Bug puns. Um…” Peter is having a hard time focusing, however, because even upside-down, his best friend is the prettiest girl he has ever seen. And right now, dangling at eye-level with her, he has no way of looking away from the deep brown eyes that seem to pore into him from behind her glasses lenses.

She’s his friend, one of his best friends. He can’t be feeling this way about her– what if she doesn’t feel the same?

“Peter, your heartbeat is reaching an alarming rate,” Karen’s voice says loudly in his ear. “Would you like me to call May Parker and inform her that-”

“No, don’t do that!” Peter exclaims. The words are frantic, panicked as they tear themselves from his lips. MJ stops in her tracks, eyes widening slightly. There is confusion in them now, and Peter is even more flustered than he was before.

“Parker, are you okay?” MJ says slowly. “I was kidding, but if you need me to help you down, I can-”

“No,” he interrupts immediately, blinking rapidly. “No, it’s not you, I wasn’t talking to… Um…” Words are flitting through his mind too fast to say, creating a buzz that is only more distracting. MJ is frozen now, and she seems just as unsure about what to do as he is.

“Look, MJ, I…” Peter struggles for words, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “I wasn’t expecting you to say… That.”

MJ blinks once, then twice. Then, however, a little smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It’s hesitant, and it’s shy, but it’s unmistakable. “You didn’t expect me to tell you that you were cute.”

So she did mean it that way, then. She meant that he was cute, and she’d said it to him. And of course Peter had panicked like a dork, and now there was no hope of recovering his pride from this.

But maybe he can rein it in. Maybe if he says something profound, or smooth, he can get this situation back in his favor…

“Um… Nope.”

Getting those two measly words out takes more energy than fighting off all three of the men had.

MJ’s smirk returns, and she shakes her head slightly. For a moment, there is quiet between them, and then a quiet laugh leaves her. Peter stiffens at the sound, but when it washes over him, his whole body relaxes. One laugh, then another, and then she turns her gaze to the ceiling as if she is searching for words.

“You are,” she informs him with mirth-filled eyes, “such a…”

“Loser.”

Peter doesn’t have to wait to know the proper term. Beneath the mask, a lopsided grin of his own twists his mouth. When he finishes her sentence, those dark, playful eyes come to meet his own, upside down. However, the moment that their eyes meet, something in the mood shifts.

MJ’s grin fades, and so does Peter’s own. For a moment, Peter forgets the stupidity of the situation he is in. He is too busy being wrapped up in the web that is MJ, in her sharp quips and her wicked smirks and her deep, dark eyes.

All amusement drains out of MJ’s face as she straightens herself up, blinking at him from across the space that divides them. For a moment, the air between them feels electric, and Peter is frozen in her current.

Then, MJ takes a step towards him. Another, and another, and Peter is frozen in place, upside down as she increases their proximity. MJ’s feet bring her closer to him, so close that Peter can’t breathe.

And then, MJ’s face is so close that their foreheads are almost touching. Peter is close enough to count her dark lashes, to study every twist of her thick curls, to memorize the rise and fall of her cupid’s bow. His heart pounds out of control, but now Karen has the good sense to stay quiet.

A tangled mess of emotions sweeps over Peter: awe, panic, hope, the works. They simmer together and bubble over, pouring out of his lips as a stammered, “MJ, you-”

“Shh,” MJ hums. Her dark eyes seem to scour the mechanical eyes of the mask, and slowly, her fingers rise to brush against the line of his jaw. Peter doesn’t realize what she is doing until she has lifted the mask, gathering it to just below his nose. Peter draws in a sharp breath as the cool air washes over the lower half of his face.

MJ’s fingers, soft and cool, brush against the corner of his lips, and a shiver goes down Peter’s spine. This close, MJ smells like lemon and lavender tea, and her soft, cooling touch is enough to send his skin tingling. His lips part slightly to speak, though Peter is not sure what he plans to say.

A long, slender finger comes to rest on Peter’s lips. MJ raises an eyebrow at him through the mask, her eyes meeting his own. “Shut up, loser,” she breathes, and then her eyes flutter shut. Before Peter can disobey her, MJ closes the distance, bringing her lips to rest atop his own.

MJ’s hands rise to cradle his face, and she arches her back as their lips move together. Peter is not sure how long they remain their, lips moving, exploring in the quiet of MJ’s room.

All he knows is that MJ tastes like honey, and now Peter understands why a creature would be willing to take its last breath in hope of just one taste.

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aurora-daily · 5 years

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Q&A: Aurora builds her army of love on follow-up to ‘A Different Kind of Human’

Interview by Roman Gokhman for RIFF Magazine (October 28th, 2019). Photo by Holly Horn (@ShootintheDirt).

SAN FRANCISCO — Aurora may have played her last American shows for the year, but if the Norwegian pop singer-songwriter realizes her artistic vision, fans won’t have to wait too long to see her again.

That’s because Aurora Aksnes, 23, plans on making an album per year for the next several years, and following a European tour, she’ll be working on her fourth album. Her last two records, 2018’s Infections of a Different Kind (Step 1) and June’s A Different Kind of Human (Step 2), saw the slight, pixie-haired artist take an activist stance. Like the fairy protagonist in FernGully: The Last Rainforest, Aurora’s songs are a reminder to protect what we, as humankind, have left on earth.

“I believe that naturally people are good,” said Aurora, speaking shortly before her performance at Outside Lands. “I believe so much in people; in humankind. I believe we have so much potential to change things. Because it’s only us here on this planet. We have to fix things. No one else will. It’s up to us—every single small thing and every single big thing.”

Aurora’s pop is electronic and orchestral at the same time, with her icy ethereal voice riding atop the blend. It’s distinct. The songs on Step 2 are sometimes a plea, sometimes encouragement and sometimes a warning. On “Soulless Creatures” Mother Earth warns humankind that it’s given too much to us. “Hunger” is about the endless pursuit of power and status that could destroy everything. “The River” speaks to mental health openness and suicide prevention; particular in men, who in many societies are expected to keep their feelings bottled up. “The Seed” is a literal call for environmental protections.

The issues presented are deep, for sure, but not unusual for someone who makes a point attentively to take at least five deep breaths each day.

Part 1 was about finding an internal spark to improve one’s own life and Part 2 is about empowerment to change the world. While Aurora is working on another record in this series, she’s keen to point out that her next LP will be a standalone collection of songs. She doesn’t want to spoil the surprise yet, but said that her fans will understand the following clue:

“It’s just about the fact that everything matters—those two words,” she said.

We spoke with Aurora about her style—it turns out practicality is key—inciting a revolution with her songs, and her appreciation for metalcore music.

RIFF: You have a very unique look when you perform. What does it represent for you?

Aurora: I always wear trousers under my skirts—so I could do a cartwheel whenever I want. Some things kind of started as practical. I cut my hair short because I didn’t like to shower for long and use conditioner—it’s so boring. I cut it short to not have to take care of it. I cut bangs so I wouldn’t get hair in my eyes. I wear pants so I could move around as I want; as a wild person. But I’ve always worn skirts my whole life. I don’t even own a pair of jeans. And these [here she shows off her arm sleeves]; I don’t like the sun, so I wore these to protect myself. But I like the way it looks, so I started using them. So everything has a reason or purpose. … I like old clothes and I like to know who made the clothes. It’s scary these days; when clothes are so cheap and you don’t know who makes it. I find it really scary and really unsettling. So I like to make my own clothes or buy really old ones, so I know where they come from.

That’s one of the central themes on “Hunger.” That song is about our desire and greed for stuff, some of which is made by the poor in other countries in inhospitable conditions. Many of your songs on the last record are about various injustices and problems taking place today. The songs call for action from your listeners. You’re more or less talking about revolution.

That’s a very interesting part of that because I feel like we are so close to a true revolution. As humankind has always done, we are reacting to now to what happened the decade before. We are always reacting to our own mistakes; sometimes in good ways and sometimes in bad ways. … I see people … want to do something. How can I say this without talking for an hour… Social media and the internet and all that stuff has created a very strange sense of value that people have. What means happiness? What means success? These platforms have created a not very realistic or even true standards to how we should behave. It’s narrowing down our minds, and then we don’t see what life truly has to offer. We focus on our own mistakes because we have this small goal that we want to achieve.

Aurora performs at The Fonda Theatre in Los Angeles on Feb. 20, 2019. Julia Kovaleva/Staff.

What can people do to combat that?

I believe that naturally people are good. … I think it also appeals to us because it makes people happy to care about something bigger than yourself. It gives another bigger sense of purpose, and I think it’s really good for people to have that and to be reminded that we are part of something. We’re part of a whole family of equal-minded people that want to be good. That’s what’s inspiring to me, and I want to write music to remind people. I don’t like to be preaching. I think people know it already but they just need to be reminded of it. … People do care about their families, for example. They are kind and do anything for their friends. But I think we are meant to do everything we can for everyone and everything.

Have you gotten a chance to talk to fans about how they have connected with A Different Kind of Human (Step 2)?

Yes, I have! They are very happy and very encouraged and empowered by it. I wanted to make an album … to make people feel empowered; to make them feel like they can face everything and impact everything with their own mind and potential. It’s been very fun to see how natural it is for me and all my fans to care about the world; to be invested in something that is very important and something that will even affect the world after we’re gone. I believe that music can save the world; it can! The only thing we need to save the world is that people [need to be] awake, that they see, and that they act. And I see that [fans] want to save the world with me. I can’t do anything alone.

What sorts of things are you writing about right now?

I’m working on two albums, but one is longer into the future. The whole album concept always comes to me first, and then I write the songs. So I have two now, but I know the other one the world is not ready for yet. I need to wait five, maybe four years for that.

What’s the closer one?

The next one is its own album. It’s not connected to Step 2. It has its own story. The perspective is much bigger. It’s still quite political, and it’s still quite opinionated. And it’s also very emotional. It’s even more about the individuals that make the army. It’s an album for every individual within the big army of love.

I’ve heard you’re a fan of really hard music; how’d that happen, besides the part of the world from which you came being big on metal?

Yes. I like that it’s so extroverted, and it’s very primitive to me. But it’s also very intellectual. I love the way they make many different types of music into heavy metal. Some people … think it’s noise. But it’s not noise if you love it. I love the arithmetical part of heavy metal. As you can hear, sometimes, in my songs; the percussive parts. And it’s almost like jazz. I like the way it’s complicated but in an instinctive way. It’s just pure.

What are your interests outside of music?

I paint a lot with oil. I painted a cover for a song I have called “Forgotten Love.” It’s an orange self-portrait of myself. And I love to make food, but for me. I don’t like to make food for other people. I like to make food for one; a tiny portion of goodness. And I like to just be with myself. I love to read, and I like to be quiet a lot.

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #step 2 #new album

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inapat13 · 4 years

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“What Happened, Miss Simone": a documentary about the iconic American jazz singer, songwriter, pianist and civil rights activist

Today, we’re going to talk about a documentary released in 2015 and directed by Liz Garbus: "What Happened, Miss Simone?". It’s an archival documentary recounting the life and career of this great artist (Eunice Waymon — that was her given name). Lisa Simone, Nina's daughter, was the executive producer and helped the filmmaker to collect archive footage for the film. Indeed, the documentary is a digest of archives footages, but also of photographs and of contextual materials such as newspaper articles. The use of Nina Simone's personal diary is especially priceless: many extracts were selected in order to prove the facts that are told, and support the narrative framework chosen by Liz Garbus.

The film also distinguishes itself using sound archives: we hear Nina Simone's voice talking about her life. These recordings were made to simplify the writing of a biography, while the artist was still alive. The tapes were found in a house in the south of France, at the home of the journalist who had interviewed Nina Simone (Jayson Jackson). Most of the archives in this documentary leave me speechless, mainly due to the inclusion of rare archival footage that I had never seen before. Some are from the very beginning of the career of Nina Simone who released her first album in 1958 (Little Girl Blue). For instance, one of the film's most surreal scenes shows her performing in 1959 “I Loves You, Porgy" for Hugh Hefner (founder of Playboy Magazine) and his friends on the set of his TV show, Playboy's Penthouse.

Many of Simone’s pieces are broadcasted in the documentary (I Loves You Porgy, Love Me or Leave Me, My Baby Just Cares for Me, Backlash Blues, Missisippi Goddam, Strange Fruit…). We often watch her seated on stage, at her piano, playing frantically with her musicians; very often, the songs appear as instantaneous reflections of Nina Simone’s eventful life. The documentary has a very classical form, alternating between archive footage, and multiple testimonies of talking heads, including among others Lisa Simone, Alvin Schackman (the American jazz guitarist, who was a great companion of Nina Simone), but also Andrew Stroud (her husband who was also her manager).

Unfortunately, if the documentary begins by taking an interest in the importance of music in Nina Simone's life, it quickly gives up this study, which could have been fascinating. The documentary prefers to closely analyze the complexity of the artist’s life, mentioning her family relationships, her volcanic personality, her depression, the ups and downs of a long career. From this point of view, the documentary is sometimes violent in the words which are used. For example, when Lisa Simone explains that her mother sought violence, and that she “attracted” it. Also, while we hear the Nina Simone’s testimony on the domestic violence she suffered, we also hear the man that is responsible for the reported facts (she said: “He put a gun to my head, then he tied me up and raped me.”). But, his status, his words, are never questioned in the documentary, so that is deeply violent. In my opinion, this documentary really raises the question of the status of the witness' speech, the problem of hindsight, particularly in biographical movies. The words here carry an extremely sensitive, subjective and painful memory. The back and forth between all the testimonies illustrates a chaotic memory, and we understand that the artist's legacy is deeply complex.

However, I didn’t expect to watch a documentary with such an intimate bias, and I was disappointed from a musical point of view. Indeed, we learn nothing about Simone’s process of creation, nothing about her way of composing, writing, being inspired. However, she was not only a great pianist (she missed out on her dream of becoming a concert pianist as a result of segregation) but also a composer of great texts and pieces. She was able to instantly change the key while playing, she was able to improvise and change a known piece during a live concert. She introduced contrapuntal fugues in jazz reminiscent of Bach. She went from one musical genre to another. There is no documentation to provide information about her work, because the filmmaker didn’t want to focus on this. Even if she’s often shown on stage in the documentary, the voice-over would rather point out her inner worries, her suffering and her tiredness, so that music is associated with a negative feeling. As a critic said: “it’s a one-sided view of Nina Simone, without a focus on her amazing achievements. Not a mention of her music really - it functions more as a backdrop to this angry, slightly sad, slightly defeated so-called "objective" rendering of her life “. Yet, archives footage show her smiling, poised, energetic, alive with the audience. We can hear the exchanges she enjoys with them. In my opinion, the documentary didn’t put enough emphasis on her creative dexterity, her talent as a musician and didn’t speak enough of her songs, even though some of them are powerful and symbolize an entire era (such as Mississippi Goddam, which was a very important piece for Nina Simone and a whole generation, emphasising her commitment to the civil rights movement in America).

« Can't you see it Can't you feel it It's all in the air I can't stand the pressure much longer Somebody say a prayer

Alabama's gotten me so upset Tennessee made me lose my rest And everybody knows about Mississippi goddam »

As a lover of her music, I would have liked to have learned more about what drove her to create, which is necessary, and can’t be forgotten, while the film focuses more on her failures, or her status as a woman struggling with men. It’s important that biographical documentaries don’t gloss over the details that might make protagonists look bad and this one is far from glamorous.

The aim of the following articles will be to study how jazz documentaries deal with musicians' figures in order to ascertain whether or not the biographical function always omits documentary, musical and creative data in favor of lived experience. In “What Happened, Miss Simone?”, very little information in the documentary supported the very specific, detailed process of her creation. I still wonder if her processes were in her diary; I wish the film had included more of Nina Simone's music. In my opinion, the archival footage saves the documentary, providing a real joy showing her doing what she did best: playing piano, singing, performing on stage. In particular, the footage of her comeback performance at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1976 captures both her terrifying and uncontrollable personality (“Sit down,” she orders someone in the audience) and her powerful beauty.

The title is a quote by the American author Maya Angelou. It’s a nice way to introduce the subject; it’s also about playing on words. What happened to you, who put all your rage and your unpredictability in your music? Then, what happened, what are the facts: through her music, we know what happened, because a real artist is a deep voice of the era and of history.

Anne Vinet

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wtffundiefamilies · 5 years

Link

A classic and a must-read; I’ve put a few selections in the body of this post, but I strongly recommend reading the entire thing as linked.

"I've had several cases over the years in which the anti-abortion patient had rationalized in one way or another that her case was the only exception, but the one that really made an impression was the college senior who was the president of her campus Right-to-Life organization, meaning that she had worked very hard in that organization for several years. As I was completing her procedure, I asked what she planned to do about her high office in the RTL organization. Her response was a wide-eyed, 'You're not going to tell them, are you!?' When assured that I was not, she breathed a sigh of relief, explaining how important that position was to her and how she wouldn't want this to interfere with it." (Physician, Texas)

"In 1990, in the Boston area, Operation Rescue and other groups were regularly blockading the clinics, and many of us went every Saturday morning for months to help women and staff get in. As a result, we knew many of the 'antis' by face. One morning, a woman who had been a regular 'sidewalk counselor' went into the clinic with a young woman who looked like she was 16-17, and obviously her daughter. When the mother came out about an hour later, I had to go up and ask her if her daughter's situation had caused her to change her mind. 'I don't expect you to understand my daughter's situation!' she angrily replied. The following Saturday, she was back, pleading with women entering the clinic not to 'murder their babies.'" (Clinic escort, Massachusetts)

"We too have seen our share of anti-choice women, ones the counselors usually grit their teeth over. Just last week a woman announced loudly enough for all to hear in the recovery room, that she thought abortion should be illegal. Amazingly, this was her second abortion within the last few months, having gotten pregnant again within a month of the first abortion. The nurse handled it by talking about all the carnage that went on before abortion was legalized and how fortunate she was to be receiving safe, professional care. However, this young woman continued to insist it was wrong and should be made illegal. Finally the nurse said, 'Well, I guess we won't be seeing you here again, not that you're not welcome.' Later on, another patient who had overheard this exchange thanked the nurse for her remarks." (Clinic Administrator, Alberta)

"We saw a woman recently who after four attempts and many hours of counseling both at the hospital and our clinic, finally, calmly and uneventfully, had her abortion. Four months later, she called me on Christmas Eve to tell me that she was not and never was pro-choice and that we failed to recognize that she was clinically depressed at the time of her abortion. The purpose of her call was to chastise me for not sending her off to the psych unit instead of the procedure room." (Clinic Administrator, Alberta)

"Recently, we had a patient who had given a history of being a 'pro-life' activist, but who had decided to have an abortion. She was pleasant to me and our initial discussion was mutually respectful. Later, she told someone on my staff that she thought abortion is murder, that she is a murderer, and that she is murdering her baby. So before doing her procedure, I asked her if she thought abortion is murder -- the answer was yes. I asked her if she thought I am a murderer, and if she thought I would be murdering her baby, and she said yes. But murder is a crime, and murderers are executed. Is this a crime? Well, it should be, she said. At that point, she became angry and hostile, and the summary of the conversation was that she regarded me as an abortion-dispensing machine, and how dare I ask her what she thinks. After explaining to her that I do not perform abortions for people who think I am a murderer or people who are angry at me, I declined to provide her with medical care. I do not know whether she found someone else to do her abortion." (Physician, Colorado)

"In 1973, after Roe v. Wade, abortion became legal but had to be performed in a hospital. That of course was changed later. For the first 'legal abortion day' I had scheduled five procedures. While scrubbing between cases, I was accosted by the Chief of the OB/Gyn service. He asked me, 'How many children are you going to kill today?' My response, out of anger, was a familiar vulgar retort. About three months later, this born-again Christian called me to explain that he was against abortion but his daughter was only a junior in high school and was too young to have a baby and he was also afraid that if she did have a baby she would not want to put it up for adoption. I told him he did not need to explain the situation to me. 'All I need to know', I said, 'is that SHE wants an abortion.' Two years later I performed a second abortion on her during her college break. She thanked me and pleaded, 'Please don't tell my dad, he is still anti-abortion.'" (Physician, Washington State)

"I once had a German client who greatly thanked me at the door, leaving after a difficult 22-week abortion. With a gleaming smile, she added: 'Und doch sind Sie ein Mörderer.' ('And you're still a murderer.')" (Physician, The Netherlands)

"My first encounter with this phenomenon came when I was doing a 2-week follow-up at a family planning clinic. The woman's anti-choice values spoke indirectly through her expression and body language. She told me that she had been offended by the other women in the abortion clinic waiting room because they were using abortion as a form of birth control, but her condom had broken so she had no choice! I had real difficulty not pointing out that she did have a choice, and she had made it! Just like the other women in the waiting room." (Physician, Ontario)

"I had a 37 year old woman just yesterday who was 13 weeks. She said she and her husband had been discussing this pregnancy for 2-3 months. She was strongly opposed to abortion, 'but my husband is forcing me to do it.' Naturally, I told her that no one could force her into an abortion, and that she had to choose whether the pregnancy or her husband were more important. I told her I only wanted what was best for her, and I would not do the abortion unless she agreed that it was in her best interest. Once she was faced with actually having to voice her own choice, she said 'Well, I made the appointment and I came here, so go ahead and do it. It's what's best.' At last I think she came to grips with the fact that it really was her decision after all." (Physician, Nevada)

The medical director at a Dallas abortion clinic told this story: A white woman from an affluent north Dallas neighborhood brought her black maid in for an abortion and paid for it. While the maid was in a counseling session, a commotion was heard in the waiting room outside. The maid's employer was handing out anti-abortion leaflets to other women waiting for abortions.

From a clinic director in a mid-western state: "One of the most remarkable cases was a woman who came [from another part of the state] and said she was the Right-to-Life president in her county. 'But,' she said, she 'had become pregnant and had to have an abortion.'"

Many anti-choice women are convinced that their need for abortion is unique -- not like those "other" women -- even though they have abortions for the same sorts of reasons. Anti-choice women often expect special treatment from clinic staff. Some demand an abortion immediately, wanting to skip important preliminaries such as taking a history or waiting for blood test results. Frequently, anti-abortion women will refuse counseling (such women are generally turned away or referred to an outside counselor because counseling at clinics is mandatory). Some women insist on sneaking in the back door and hiding in a room away from other patients. Others refuse to sit in the waiting room with women they call "sluts" and "trash." Or if they do, they get angry when other patients in the waiting room talk or laugh, because it proves to them that women get abortions casually, for "convenience".

#'pro life'#'family values'#hypocrisy

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 5 years

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We Won’t Eat Our Words

For @newsies-strike-day I thought it only appropriate to do a Newsies centric fic in my crooked politician au since I did a les mis one for barricade day. You don’t have to read the rest of the series for this, it’s written as a standalone. Special thank you to @rum-on-fire who is definitely NOT part of the newsies fandom (though they have their green card to stay in the rabbit hole lol) and very helpfully betaed and edited this. Title, inspiration, and recommended listening: Monster by dodie w/ assit from 100 Bad Days by AJR. Rating: PG Words: 4,959 AO3

Katherine collapsed onto her bed still fully clothed, needing to work up the energy to even put her pajamas on. She’d spent the day setting up her new apartment – since she’d be needing one after next year anyway her parents had kindly agreed to foot the bill for a small studio near school until she graduated and would start paying the rent herself – and was thoroughly exhausted as a result.

Her mom had insisted on hiring movers for hauling her possessions from their uptown brownstone to the downtown apartment and for bringing up all the furniture. Katherine had insisted on actually putting everything away herself and so the two had spent the Saturday doing just that before her mom called a cab and they drove home. She was so tired she almost regretted just not spending the night, but she was waiting to start living there until after the cable guys came and set her wifi up on Monday.

Kath held her phone aloft in front of her, thumb hovering over the call button for a friend from D.C. She had just enough mental capacity to talk over final details for his visit the next weekend. Before Katherine could hit the button her bedroom door flung open, causing her to let her hand drop as she turned to see who it was.

Her father stood there, back straight and chin out, still in his pressed business suit at the time SNL would be showing the second performance of their musical guest had it not been the middle of July.

Kath swung her legs off the bed and used the momentum to push herself up into a seated position. She let her face fall into the cool neutral expression she reserved for interactions with her father, tilting her head and lifting her eyebrow incrementally to show her question at his barging in.

Joseph Pulitzer stepped exactly two paces into the raspberry walled room. Transferring his polished loafers from the dark burgundy of the hall rug to her cream carpeting. He pulled his tablet out from under his arm and with an economical flick of his wrist held the screen out to her.

“What’s this?” He demanded.

Forced to get up, Katherine crossed the short distance to meet him and take the tablet from his hands. She was confused at first, not understanding what he was referring to. Then she recognized the website that had been pulled up.

Thanks to the Newsies’ recognition for election coverage – which Katherine’s blog posts from D.C. had no small part in – the writing blog that she’d set up her junior year of high school had seen a flood of traffic. She’d decided to capitalize on it and turn the site into a writing portfolio. With the help of Elmer the web design wizard she’d managed to embed articles and videos from three different news sites. Specs and Davey had helped her to curate a sense of professionalism; balancing her more personal, opinionated blog posts with her news writing from the school paper, the more frivolous reviews from her time interning in the Arts section at The Sun, and the work she did as an intern for CNN in the fall. The site looked good.

Katherine looked up from the tablet to her father, a frown tightening the corners of her mouth and dragging her brows together. “It’s my portfolio. My writing portfolio.”

Snatching the tablet from her hands Joe scoffed. He swiped at the screen, scrolling to something before tapping with a controlled sort of violence.

“What?” Katherine demanded. Her blood was starting to boil and her earlier exhaustion had burned off as a result.

“You actually believe that this shows your skills? And don’t get me started on the complete lack of journalistic integrity.”

His sneer actually knocked her back, causing her to stumble.

“Excuse me?”

Joe flipped the tablet around again, showing the research articles that she’d put together for the Newsies. He sent the page scrolling.

“You actually think that you can be unbiased and yet remain in bed with your little activist group?”

Katherine’s lip curled at her father’s choice of words. Her hands had closed into fists and she only realized they had when she felt her chipped manicure biting into her palms.

“If you had been paying attention at all you would know that we have been praised for being non-partisan and unbiased. But that would mean you actually cared enough to pay attention to me,” she spat.

Her father’s expression turned stony. Any emotion that she might have been able to detect was shuttered behind judgmental eyes and a cruel mouth and harsh brows.

“You might think that you can skate by on talent and charm alone Katherine, in fact this little display proves you think exactly that, but no one is trawling the internet for hires,” he sniffed. “I certainly don’t. I would never hire you.”

For a second Katherine’s heart stopped. Her father’s words ringing in her ears. When it started again she drew herself up to her full height and met his gaze.

“Well it’s a good thing I never expected you to. You see the name at the top of the page? Katherine Plumber. Not Pulitzer, Plumber. Everything there I did myself and I didn’t even need you. I don’t need you to give me a job either. What you hold in your hand does more to prove that than any point you think you’re trying to make. I don’t need your name or your judgement and I certainly don’t need to stand here and listen to you insult me.”

Joe seemed stunned. Katherine used this to her advantage, already moving towards her bathroom and pulling her toothbrush, toothpaste, and birth control pills from the cabinet. She tossed them into the travel case she kept under the sink and then followed with her hairbrush and some makeup and bobby pins, hair ties and travel sized body wash, shampoo, and conditioner.

When Kath walked back out Joe still hadn’t moved. She tossed the case into her backpack. She moved to grab up her pajamas and they and her laptop and charger followed suit. She wouldn’t need the clothes she’d laid out for the next day but she pulled them off her desk chair anyway when she swept up her keys, wallet, and subway card. The subway card went into her pocket, the rest dumped into the backpack too. She could fish her keys out on the train.

He was still standing there as she pulled her shoes back on. By now he had the decency to look dumbstruck.

Katherine closed the bag and swung it onto her shoulders. Fuck not having wifi, she didn’t need it for twenty-some odd hours if it meant not dealing with Joseph Pulitzer. With his condescension. His contempt. His utter disinterest.

She shouldered past him and finally he did more than stare at her. “Where are you going?”

Narrowing her eyes, Katherine jutted out her chin. “Home.” And then she marched down the hall. Down the grand staircase and through the foyer. Right out the big front doors to the muggy night beyond. Katherine didn’t stop marching until she reached the subway platform that would take her downtown.

Here she paused, waiting for the train. She dug her keys out as she waited. They rested on the end of a lanyard she’d gotten from her old dance studio ages ago. The pink one with a purple crown marked the front door. The Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland the back. The shiny silver the apartment. The dull brass the building.

There was a keychain on the end of the lanyard too that held a trio of keys each decorated in a primary color. The keychain was a metal art deco design with “Medda Larkin” and the theater’s name and her office phone number. The yellow was for Jack and Charlie’s building. Blue for their apartment. Red a townhouse in Georgetown.

She could hear the train rumbling towards the station and Katherine made a decision. She ruthlessly twisted the princess and Cheshire Cat keys from her lanyard, shoving them deep into a pocket of her backpack. When she held up her lanyard again she saw the places she knew she would be welcomed.

Katherine closed her hand around the keys and stepped on the train.

After about twenty minutes in her apartment Katherine began to regret her choice to storm out rather than simply kick her father out of her room. Not because she felt any guilt about what was said. Not because she didn’t have wifi. Entirely because she and her mom had decided to save electricity and turned off the air-conditioning. In the short time that she’d been gone the humid New York night had crept in and she was dying.

She’d had the ac running full blast, but it wasn’t quite enough yet. Her frizzing hair had been wrangled into a bun on the top of her head. She’d found a pair of old soffe shorts a size too small that she hadn’t known she’d owned nevertheless packed when she rifled through the drawers her mom had filled for her while she had been setting up the kitchen. She’d been searching for the tank top she was currently sporting and the shorts had been in with her athletic wear.

Sitting in the dark on her new couch Katherine could hear the city humming around her. Now that her quest to beat the heat was done, she had nothing else to focus on but the fight.

She wouldn’t take back what she’d said and done. Katherine had defended herself, her future, her blog, and by extension, her friends. What her father had said though? That was echoing around her head. His “I would never hire you” just getting louder and louder in her imagination.

Katherine grabbed her phone off the coffee table and swiped it open. She went to her contacts’ favorites and hit call. The muffled ringing bled into the ringing of her father’s voice and Kath was struck by the hour and a fear he might be sleeping. Just as she was bracing herself for the possibility he picked up. Katherine let out his name on a sigh of relief. “Jack.”

“Hey Kath,” he sounded muffled, like his face was mashed into his pillow. “Is everything ok?”

“Not really,” she found herself saying in a small voice, suddenly feeling the beginning of tears. They made the words want to stick in the back of her throat. “I- I had a fight- and- and- I ran away. I’m at my apartment. I need a hug.”

Dammit. She was crying. Katherine didn’t cry and yet here she was. Her father had actually made her cry.

“I’ll be right there,” and now Jack sounded like he was sitting up.

Kath let out a shaky breath and swiped at her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It wasn’t long until the buzz of the intercom made her jump, pulling her out of her mental echo chamber. The apartment was still warm but most of the humidity had started to dissipate and the temperature was well on the way to comfortable. She buzzed open the door into the building and stayed leaning by her door, knowing it wouldn’t be long until there’d be a knock.

When it came Katherine opened the door to Jack but not just Jack but Charlie, David, and Sarah too.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

Jack engulfed her in a hug, moving her out of the doorway and letting the others in.

“Housewarming party,” Charlie said as though it were obvious.

This made Katherine acutely aware of the fact that she had absolutely no food. Another thing that she was waiting to actually start living there to acquire. The hour made her doubtful if the local bodega would even be open.

“Umm…” she said, still being hugged tightly by Jack.

“We brought snacks,” he whispered in her ear. She squeezed him tighter, a silent thanks for reading her mind.

“Damn girl, you live like this?” Charlie joked, staring around the dark studio.

Giving Jack one last hug and a kiss on the cheek she moved to close the door and flip the lights on. “Sorry, it was hot and I was afraid to blow out the ac.”

David snorted, he’d moved to the kitchen and set his backpack down on the counter. He started pulling out sodas and juice boxes. “Kath, and I say this with love, this place is nicer than where I grew up. I doubt you’ll blow a fuse for having a lamp and the air-conditioning on at the same time.”

Katherine rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Her friends chuckled and she noticed that David hadn’t been the only one to bring a backpack and they all had set about taking over her kitchen. The noise started to drown out her father’s voice in her head.

“Ok,” Sarah said, peering into her desolate fridge, “either you invited Les over before us or you haven’t gone shopping yet.”

Giggling Kath came to grab glasses and plates out of the cabinets. “I don’t think I invited any Jacobs over and yet, here you are. And at this hour.”

“Yeah, I was on Ellen and we were just about to start talking about what it was like to be Robin to Robert Pattinson’s Batman. Then Jack woke me up,” Charlie gave his brother a dry look and the other boy held up his hands in defense, a bag of Doritos in each.

“Sorry man but we all know the Kath Signal supersedes the Bat Signal,” Jack said.

She tried, she really did, pressing her lips together into a tight line but she couldn’t help but grin. Her earlier tears were long forgotten in the face of her friends. It was obvious what had happened, Jack had roused Charlie and called David who’d brought Sarah and they all came to check on her. To distract her or reassure her, whatever she might need.

Katherine paused, hands resting on the counter, as she watched her friends unpacking the supplies they had brought. That just made her smile grow as she realized that Jack and Charlie had merely grabbed whatever was in their cupboard before coming over while the Jacobs must have woken their mother – whether accidentally or intentionally she wasn’t sure – if the tupperwares filled with cut fruit, veggies, and Kath’s favorite homemade hummus were any indication.

Moving around her they began to dole out the snacks. Kath finally forced herself into action again, grabbing a capri sun from the fridge before making herself a plate.

They all made their way to the living room, arguing over who would be forced to sit in the overlarge beanbag chair that had been a staple of Katherine’s dorm since freshman year. It was the same beanbag that Sarah had to eventually decree was not a suitable bed and thus not allowed to be used as an excuse to spend the night after the boys had discovered it and tried to use their room as an escape from whatever mischief they might have gotten into. While comfortable it was extremely hard to pull oneself out of.

Kath found herself maneuvered into the middle of the couch, Jack on one side and David on the other. Charlie had gotten the armchair and Sarah sank into the beanbag with a resigned sigh.

The ac was finally doing its job and she leaned onto Jack, swinging her legs up so that they draped over David’s knees. Both of them just gave her incredulous looks before accepting their fates. Katherine poked at her hummus with a baby carrot, lost in thought as a silence settled around her.

She felt Jack press a soft kiss to the top of her head and sat up to blink at him in confusion.

“You ok?” he asked in a low voice. That’s when she realized they’d all sat there waiting for her to answer a question she’d been too wrapped up in her own head to realize was asked.

Katherine felt herself blush as she nodded. “Yeah. Um, what’d you say?”

“I wanted to know how the move in went,” David said fondly.

She’d just taken a bite of her carrot, so Kath waited until she’d swallowed to speak. “It went really well. I mean you can kinda see that,” she rolled her eyes in self-deprecation, “but yeah, the movers got all the furniture set up and then my mom and I did the rest. Took the whole day but it’s done.”

Kath shrugged and took another bite before adding, “The cable guy comes Monday so I’m shit outta luck on entertainment until then. No tv, no internet. But I’ve got some dvds if you guys want? I think I know where my Cards Against Humanity got to.”

David groaned as Charlie punched the air. This then resulted in Charlie nudging David sharply in the side with one of his elbow crutches for the groan. And saying, “You’re a sore loser Davey, it’s time ya get over it.”

David rolled his eyes and Kath giggled.

“Don’t deny it Dave,” Jack said, smug. The way she was leaning on him meant Katherine could feel him move as he spoke. It was weird. And funny. Kinda relaxing too.

“We both know that Les got the bad habit of flipping the Monopoly board from you,” Sarah chimed in, putting the lid on any of her brother’s world-famous rebuttals.

David flung his hands up in defeat. “Monopoly is a stupid game anyway! Do you know how bad they are for consumers? And us striving to create our own is just propaganda.”

“You know,” Kath chimed in thoughtfully, remembering a fun fact she’d picked up from a friend, “it was originally created to show how detrimental to society capitalism was. So, you’re right about the propaganda angle, wrong about the original intention.”

Her friends were all giving her variations of the same look. A mixture of mild confusion and dumbfounded. Katherine decided to just turn her attention back to her hummus.

“Well ok then,” Jack finally said. “I think that means you’re feeling better?”

It was a question, she could tell it was, but thanks to the distraction presented by teasing David and bitching about Monopoly she’d totally forgotten her own shitty captain of industry father. Katherine deflated slightly at the reminder.

She nodded meekly, though it was more of head wobble than a nod that eventually just turned into a shrug against Jack’s side. She huffed out a breath and her friends, no, her family – the wonderful marvelous people that they were, who came into her empty apartment in the middle of the night whilst she was wallowing and turned it into a true home in a matter of minutes – waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts and make up her mind.

“It’s a mixed bag?” she tried. Katherine could admit to herself she was stalling as English escaped her. She was left with the memory of her father storming into her room looping in her head, juxtaposed with opening her door to find Jack, David, Charlie, and Sarah waiting for her. Also, the word Gummiente for some reason, it was German for rubber duck. All in all, not a very banner moment for the wannabe writer. Maybe her father was right.

Katherine squeezed her eyes shut. She did not want to think about that. The air caught slightly in her throat as she inhaled. Would not even give him the satisfaction in her own imagination.

Jack must have felt her still because the next thing Katherine knew he was draping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. Then she felt David shift, gently swinging her legs down so he could slide closer and hug her too. A weight rested on her knee, the unmistakable feel of the top of one of Charlie’s crutches and she knew that the only reason it wasn’t his hand was because the space between the couch and coffee table was too narrow for him to maneuver with the couch full. Distantly Katherine thought she’d have to remember to fix that as she felt Sarah squeezing her hand, having finally fought her way out of the beanbag.

Katherine took in another shuttering breath. Her shoulders shook slightly. No tears tried to slip out though as she found herself laughing in relief. Brought about by her friends around her. Happiness and love for these people.

In a rush Katherine’s words came back to her and soon were pouring out of her mouth. A habit of hers that her father hated and had on occasion gotten her into hot water but for the life of her Kath couldn’t see the point in silencing herself, even if sometimes her voice reacted before her brain.

“You guys are just the best,” Kath breathed out in a rush. “I mean really. I’m so so so glad to have you all in my life and so thankful that you just decided to show up here in the middle of the night. Like, I know you were all sleeping; and I know how much you need it, bunch of overworked and underpaid college kids who run a human rights campaign slash activist group on the side that you are. But you somehow decided that I was more important than some well deserved rest. For some fucking reason.

“Which I really appreciate,” Katherine paused slightly, catching her breath and steeling her nerves. “Like, really appreciate. So much. So so much. Because I- I ran away from home? No. That sounds dumb. Oh god, I feel like a fucking dork but like I don’t care, cause I need to tell you guys this: I have a home; you are my home. I ran away from my dad. He- he found my blog and I’d say he was just being a dick about it but really he was being himself cause he’s always a dick so like I shouldn’t be surprised but we wound up arguing – I know, I know, shocking – and well I don’t regret what I said, it may have been mean but it was true, and I don’t regret coming here but it still hurt. He…”

Katherine trailed off, opening her eyes to frown down at her lap with the plate of snacks still clutched in her one hand. Jack pressed a kiss to the side of her head in encouragement. She furrowed her brows, screwing her courage to the sticking place.

“He told me that he’d never hire me,” Katherine finally said.

It was met with a chorus of shock and outrage. Jack and Davey both squeezed her tighter while Sarah let go of her hand to throw her own up in the air in exasperation. Charlie was letting out a stream of expletives detailing exactly what he thought about Joseph Pulitzer as a father and businessman.

After a couple long seconds David started laughing. It snapped Katherine out of her sudden shame as she looked over to him, fearing hysterics. David just grinned widely back at her as she gave him a questioning look.

“Kath!” he exclaimed breathlessly between laughs. “You don’t need him to hire you! And probably never will!”

She blinked at him, not following. Jack apparently had though, and she figured it was thanks to the fact that their trains of thought tended to run on the same rail. “You’re right! And it’s his own fucking loss!”

The two boys laughed as Katherine tried to work out what they meant. She glanced to Sarah who looked just as lost as she was and then to Charlie. He was frowning slightly but nodding as though he was seeing the logic in his best friends’ nonsense.

David realized her confusion, grabbing the tops of her arms so that she would meet his eyes as he spoke. “Kath, you already have a job.”

She made a face. “I’ve got an internship,” Katherine corrected him.

“Yeah, with The New York Sun!” David shook her slightly in his growing excitement.

“Your second summer internship there,” Jack added with that same almost manic cheer. “And this time they don’t have you writing puff pieces on kids festivals.”

“No they don’t!” David tagged back in and great they were going to do the thing where they traded off sentences to create one long argument. It was an impressive and truly fantastic talent, but Katherine hated when they turned it on her. Especially when she had yet to see their point. “This time you’re working directly for Bryan Denton, the one and only!”

As if on cue Sarah cheered “Our man Denton!” Which, granted, was a pretty Pavlovian response from any newsie when Denton, News Editor at The New York Sun, was mentioned.

Kath just widened her eyes and raised her brows slightly, her expression clearly saying “And your point is…?”

Charlie huffed, leaning forward in the armchair. “Kath, do we have to spell it out for you? Denton loves you. He’s like the Batman to your Batgirl, more Cain than Gordon in this case though you’re more of a Babs than a Cass in general and that’s not just because of your hair…”

Kath raised an eyebrow.

“But I digress,” Charlie said sheepishly. “He’s taken you under his wing. He sent you the internship application in like, what, January? Like right after break? And hired you himself. He loved working with you on the big World protest freshman year and was the one who suggested you apply to The Sun for the summer after in the first place, and you did last summer once the Newsies accounts were solidly off the ground. This is your second summer there. In. A. Row. And you spent the fall in D.C. At frickin CNN. An internship that Denton also suggested you look into since he knew about it from contacts he had from his war correspondent days.”

Rolling her eyes, Katherine shook off David’s hands where they still gripped her arms. Judging by his expression he’d forgotten he’d still been holding on and she let a small smile slip out.

“Look,” Kath started, “I won’t deny that Denton has been helping me out and kinda mentoring me, but it doesn’t mean he’ll just magically give me a job after graduation. If they don’t need another reporter in his section he can’t hire me no matter how much he likes me or how good he might think I am.”

Jack and David exchanged a silent conversation in a single look over her head. Katherine sat back so she could glare at them both.

“Uh exactly?” Jack laughed. “You said it yourself, even if there’s not room in his section he’ll make sure you’re hired at The Sun somewhere until there is. Or he’ll help you get a job anywhere in New York.”

“Not that you need his help,” David added. He smirked at her, but it was quickly turning into that proud smile of his. The same one he gave Les any time his little brother showed up on campus to brag about an A on a test or someone else he’d talked into following the Newsies of New York accounts.

“Kath,” Sarah said, speaking for the first time in a while. She was shaking her head in fond exasperation. “Your resume could kick anyone’s resume’s ass: You’re the Editor-in-Chief for the school paper this year. You help run one of the most up-and-coming non-partisan political outreach groups in the Northeast. You’ve interned for two different sections at one of the city’s biggest papers. You helped cover the midterm elections for CNN. Your articles helped bring about a major change in policy for one of the biggest universities in New York, as a freshman. Like, these are the highlights and only cover the past three years.”

Katherine started laughing at that. A mildly deranged sound that started bubbling out of her throat before settling into something normal. All snorts and gasps as her friends joined her. It was ridiculous only because it was true. And she had flung it right back into her father’s face before making a grand exit.

“Well I’ve always been overdramatic in my rebellion,” she managed to gasp out between laughs.

That only made her friends laugh harder. Sarah snorted before saying “I know” and clearly flashing back to Katherine blasting alt-rock in their tiny dorm freshman year.

Katherine shook her head. “But the melodrama was definitely an inherited trait.”

“Well,” Jack said when the laughter started to quiet, “you definitely outdid him on this one. Points for that.”

“Honey,” Kath made her voice sickly sweet as she teased him, a sure sign that she was feeling more like herself. “Don’t you know this is like Whose Line Is It Anyway? The rules are made up and the points don’t matter.”

“But just like Whose Line there’s still a winner,” David added quickly. “It’s pretty clear tonight it’s you.”

Katherine beamed. With a living room – her living room – filled with the people she loved there was no doubt in Katherine’s mind that she had indeed won. Even though she wasn’t quite ready to verbalize it. Not tonight at least. After a night’s sleep she knew she’d be able to go back and face her father, head held high with the confidence that no matter what Joe said or did she was untouchable. That in a few years screaming matches and steel sharp words would dull into memories, all that would matter about tonight would be that she finally realized exactly how lucky she was.

#newsies #strikestrikestrikeday #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #sarah jacobs #joseph pulitzer #crooked politician au #my fic #writing #own writing

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