#so i ended up not identifying with the white or black parts of me

[unseemingowl]

Saga Anderson, and Nordic rep in Alan Wake 2

Early on in Saga Anderson’s exploration in Alan Wake 2, she runs into Ilmo Koskela. Fiercely proud of his Finnish heritage, Ilmo gregariously makes note of Saga’s Nordic sounding name and the familiar design of her knitted sweater. Perhaps a fellow Finn?

Alas no, Saga’s mom is Swedish she informs him. Immediately Ilmo’s face falls. I’m not sure if it’s actually just the animated character defaulting to his resting face, but either way the timing is too perfect. Cue uproarious laughter from me. People in the Nordics are on friendly terms of course, but we gotta have the tiniest bit of… scornfor each other. All in good fun of course. It’s traditional.

Now, I’m Danish, not Finnish, but still, I feel right at home in the towns of Bright Falls and Watery in Alan Wake 2. All of the little nods to Nordic culture and mindset feel so wonderfully familiar to me. The melancholia, the irreverent sense of humor, the affection for the Finnish and Swedish quirks of the characters. The game feels all the stronger in tone and narrative for Remedy embracing the Finnish roots of the studio.

Which is exactly why it sucks that I almost immediately saw the charm of those narrative decisions weaponised against Saga.

I first watched the scene between Ilmo and Saga on a lets play when I was trying to figure out if I should finally dip my toes into survival horror and buy the game. Delighted by the writing I took a look into the comments to see if people were vibing as hard with it as I was. They were. But I also saw a comment that made me frown.

Paraphrasing, it basically went, come on, like hell a guy like Ilmo would make the assumption that a black woman is Finnish. There are a multitude of reasons why I think that person was wrong, mainly that Nordic people love it when we run into each other in other countries, but it also just made me sad.

Saga being black does not negate her Swedish heritage. Formally, she is American, sure (I assume, not sure how that works in the US), but she’s raised by her single Swedish mom, of course she’s going to identify heavily with that part of her herself. It’s a profound and essential part of who she is.

But hey, I’m a white potato Dane, so I’m not gonna argue that I know much about the experience of being biracial. I’m gonna stick to what I know, which is that Saga is a very moving and beautiful example of something that I’m actually not used to seeing much of - a story about connecting with your Nordic heritage and roots. And it’s part of why I love her so much.

When Nordic people show up in big, international productions, it’s usually as Vikings, and sure, it’s fun to see our wild ancestors, but contemporary questions of Nordic identity and heritage is not something I often see explored. Not even in our own productions.

So much of Saga’s story is about family. Fighting for her current one, Logan and Casey (and sure, David too, lol), and rediscovering her first one. Tor and Odin.

Her discovering her ties to Tor and Odin is profoundly moving and made me teary-eyed several times over. And sure, a lot of those ties are fantastical in nature, but they still feel very much grounded - and what makes us Nordic if not the ties to our myths and legends that Tor and Odin have made themselves the living avatars of.

While Saga’s mom, Freya, had good reasons for leaving the Anderson seer magics behind, seeing them as part of what made her family fucked up, she also cut Saga off from the fullness of her capabilities. It is only through Saga reforming her family, healing its scars and fully embracing the Anderson heritage that she becomes as powerful a parautilitarian as she is at the end of the game. That’s beautiful.

And in fact I think Saga being black only deepens the richness of those themes rather than negate them or make them irrelevant. Because yes, Saga’s story would have been moving if she was a white character too, but I am very well aware that a lot of biracial people of Nordic ancestry can feel alienated from that part of themselves. Not least because questions of who gets to claim a Nordic heritage can get pretty ugly around here. There are most definitely people who share the racist mindset of that commentator. It adds an extra dimension. Which is why seeing Tor and Odin’s eagerness to claim Saga as part of the Anderson heritage is all the more moving. Through her magics, she’s just so obviously an Anderson, and they’re so damn proud to call her theirs and fight alongside her. Because they all got that wild Viking blood in them. They’re part of her and she’s part of them.

Roger Ebert, the film critic once called movies empathy machines. I think games, when they’re at their best, can be an even more intense variation of that. Which is exactly why it baffles me that some people can play through Alan Wake 2 and still think Saga is a stunt-woke character rather than someone fully and beautifully integrated in the narrative. A narrative which, at its most basic level – in my opinion – is about the mystical bonds we form with each other and the rest of the world through art and love and blood and family and heritage. All the great horror doesn’t negate that either, it amplifies it. Kind of like that clicker.

#I really didn’t mean to write like… a fucking essay #so this is probably gonna flop #but I love Saga so much #and as a Scandinavian woman #I feel so seen by her #and I hate that people are being so vile about her character #Saga Anderson #Alan Wake 2

[milimeters-morales]

sometimes i wonder if Miguel ever has moments of “what am i” in a mixed race and ethnicity way. Because Mexican-Irish bc of Conchata and George but with the whole thing with Tyler, do you think he’s ever like “Well I’m not part Irish at all then” and very conflicted about it? Because on one hand he’d love to have less connection with George but he also feels like he’s just throwing away part of himself??? Or with Conchata, his relationship with her is so damn complicated (i love it) and overall negative but I don’t think he’d ever just distance himself from his Mexican side because his mother is more than just “his Mexican side”. I DO think i’m overthinking it bc I can’t really remember if he ever said/mentioned anything dealing with this in the comics and i just wanna latch onto any part that’s relatable, but i really wanna know how Miguel thinks about himself in that regard 😭😭 but he’s probably too busy and stressed with other things to even consider that lol don’t need another problem on his plate

#miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spider man 2099 #like sometimes i just don’t really identify with any white part of me because like. white peiple just didn’t really get me or seem to like+ #me growing up. and then my dad’s side of the family was the ‘lol you are so white’ type to little me and trying to include me in black + #culture. which i did appreciate!!! but it was very rude and pushy the way they went about it at the time #so i ended up not identifying with the white or black parts of me #and like that really gets you thinking and messes you up for a bit as a kid #and by the time i was more in tune or involved i was just painfully awkward and always felt like i was trying to hard. i’m better about it+ #now but like damn. it was brutal LOL #like my bad experiences with that side of the family is more than just ‘my black side’ it’s SO much more than that. but like it’s kinda+ #complicated and difficult to explain and understand #and yknow i was just wondering if Miguel ever felt like that? #m&m posts

[fawnpires]

hi! if the requests are open could you please do sex pollen with Simon Riley? if you don't write smut, that's fine. thank you for your time and I wanted to say that ur blog is rlly pretty<3

ʚ LUST FOR LIFE. ɞ — SIMON "GHOST" RILEY.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ contents: sex pollen, car sex, porn with some plot, tit-fucking, size kink, manhandling, praise, unprotected sex, loads of dirty talk, missionary position, eye contact, cum play.

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ notes: omg i've done a sex pollen fic with simon before and it was literally so fun to write for, i would def write for it again. (and tysm angel! you’re literally the sweetest, ty again for requesting. <3)

The assigned mission had gone in several directions — one being the fact that a majority of your team had split up directly after being ambushed by the enemy with smoke grenades filled up with this sour yet saccharine-smelling powdery substance which had not yet been identified by the general public. For seconds, you had somehow ended up slumped in the cramped backseat of a hijacked pickup truck on the outskirts of a well-camouflaged forest right alongside your brooding, composed lieutenant who had unfortunately been impacted with that same substance a great number of your other team members had been affected with too — including yourself.

And you don't know how, but somehow you ended up with your military uniform torn off of you and discarded onto the flattened floor of the truck with only the white lace of your panties encompassing around the curves of your anatomy — laying on your back against the plush of the backseat's leather while your head rested against one of the locked, closed truck doors. Your skin was clammy, head overcrowded with incoherent clouds of thoughts while that swirling aroma of that substance lingered within your nostrils and never seemed to vanish away despite being impacted so many hours ago. Those doe eyes of yours were angled upwards, taking in the rare sight of your lieutenant's naked and brawny statuesque frame towering right above your more vulnerable figure.

"You're drivin' me fuckin' crazy, doll. Keep those pretty eyes on me now." he pants out between heavy breaths spilling past his parted lips, his body now slanted over you which caused his shadow to envelop you in its entirety.

Those tactical jeans of his were left to be undone and forgotten at his ankles alongside the cloth of his boxers while the softness of your bare breasts engulfed the pulsating, girthy length of his kept cock as it thrusted between the flesh. His hands and arms of exposure, now bulging of some veins and hardened muscles, kept a firm yet gentle grip at your breasts — kneading them in calloused palms enhanced of faded scars, some new and some fresh; most hard to recognize beneath the provided lighting of the truck's dimmed dome light. Aroused sighs and moans of contentment were drawn from the deep backs of your throat, flowing out in undetermined intervals. Your thighs were pushed and rubbing together as it creating some sort of friction and a distraction from the substance's strangely arousing side effects while you were basically getting off on the sight of his cock fucking right amid the valley of your breasts.

Your eyes never wanted to leave his, something about them was so entrancing in the moment. Each thrust at the flesh left you in a puddle of a needy mess, the blunt head of his cock peaking out between the tops of your breasts while his thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy to reach his initial high. Suppressed grunts were pronounced from past the darkened black fabric of his balaclava, the corners of his eyes twitching as he threw his head back; large hands continuing to maintain a hold on your breasts, tweaking your nipples while he fucked them with a ferocity that left him panting like a dog in heat. Slick began to drool past your panties, running down your inner thighs in a line of fluid while your jaw hung open to discharge those sounds of ecstasy. The atmosphere of the truck smelled of sex, the panes of the windows beginning to fog up in a hazy mist.

"Gonna cover these pretty lil' tits all full of my cum, lovie. I can't believe I've never given this pretty body a chance. " he gets out while a loud groan comes from him, the more he desperately moved his hips through the sensual simulation your breasts provided him — the more his climax got onto the verge of spilling out of him.

"Lieutenant, please..." your voice had the slightest hint of a whine to it, almost pleading him in a more high-pitched tone of voice.

"You sound so good f'me right now, sweet girl. Just hold on a little longer for me, baby. Almost there."

With that, he gives one last and particularly vigorous thrust between the mounds of your softened breasts; his hands traveling down to either sides at your waist, fingers depressing upon the skin as his head slanted a little more further back in pleasure with satisfied groans no longer being held in. His seed jetted out in fervent pulses onto the smooth stretch of your chest, adorning the skin in a sheet of pure and sticky fluid. As his head slanted forwards again back in regular position, his pupils appeared to be more dilated — giving him the look of some sort of rabid animal, seeking out for a way to quench his hungering lust. (In this case, using your body would be that designated method for appeasing that hunger - thanks to the substance's effects on the man.)

In a craving manner, you find Ghost briskly pulling up the lower edge of that skull balaclava he almost always sports on the physical features of his face; head lowering towards the supple flesh while his tongue eagerly laps at the liquid, brushing over either one of your nipples periodically — drawing one of those needy and pent-up whines from you. A hand is felt dragging down between your thighs, parting them from each other as his index and middle finger formed circular motions at your pantie-clad cunt, your body slightly shuddering at the contact towards your wet and sensitive area.

"God, you look even better with my cum all over your tits," Ghost chuckles lowly against your breasts, suckling and licking at them with his exposed lips. "Didn't know you were this desperate to be touched like this by a superior."

"Can't take it, Ghost, please. I need you inside me already."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. Just a little bit more, I promise. Acting like a needy lil' thing, aren't you?" he responses in a breathless vocal tone, his accent more accented with each gravelly word spoken.

His fingers slip around the waistband of your panties, the wet article of clothing worn around your curves before it was yanked down your legs and left to be abandoned with the rest of your uniform. Ghost lets out a deep grunt at the sight of your naked figure, his lips granting both of your breasts subtle little kisses before straightening himself back up and imposing right over you. He was moderately leaned over you, his hands adjusting your legs to rest on top his shoulders before drifting down to settle at both sides of your waist. His now solid cock rests at your lower abdomen, kisses being pressed into your right calf while his body slowly grinds against the perspired surface of your exterior skin.

The precise, kept movement of his raw hips had your head rolling back against the door of the vehicle — right in a state of an almost overwhelming, yet such raw ecstasy — in addition to more sweat trickling and trickling down onto the leather beneath where you laid at. His mouth stayed attached to your calf, advancing and pressing those gentle kisses of his onto the clammy limb, (Despite his rough, cold-blooded presence out of the field; he was the most gentle towards you, almost in resemblance to a lover.) Your teeth bit into the flesh of your lower lip, gnawing feebly at it while your cunt throbbed excessively in unrhythmic patterns. His teasings were going straight to your aching head as the aftermath of the substance, now well-acknowledged to be running through the course of your veins, only seemed to worsen without relief.

Fortunately, he took notice of your practically pleading exterior on display just for him; causing him to lean back a few inches from your body before steadying himself over you, eyes never faltering from yours as his cock angled right at the entrance of your sopping cunt as he slowly inched himself inside the warmth of your walls accompanied with a squelch audible throughout the vehicle. His free hand was left to press up against the fogged pane of nearest window, a prominent cast of his palm being left there. His other hand held at your hip, beads of sweat outlining at his cloth-wrapped forehead while it trickled down past the visible eye area of his balaclava — combining with that black, smeared eye-paint gracing around those dulled brown eyes. A distinct grunt came from him at the sensation of your cunt engulfing him, and a whimper of a reached relief sourced from the initial contact of his hips pressed against yours.

"There you go. Such a good girl, taking me in so well." the lieutenant cooes from above you, his voice hoarse and slightly strained while his hips sustained a pleasant rhythm.

"Mmm— fuck, Ghost... feels so good." you moan out, eyes nearly closing to fully indulge in the sensation.

"And your pussy feels like damn heaven, Jesus." his words were spoken through a grunt, his hand at the window smudging at the fog. "Keep those eyes on me, want you to look me in the eye — know who's fucking you, making you feel this good."

The smallest smirk is held at one corner of his lips at your words of praise, his hand at your hip using the thumb to gently stroke at the skin while his thrusts increased in speed. Shamelessly, soft moans and various noises of pleasure were being pulled out of you now as his each pump of his hips into you was shaped into the interiors of your cunt. Your nails dug into leather below you, legs trembling out of bliss on-top of his sturdy and muscled shoulders tensing from the vast mass of euphoric feelings the both of you were undergoing. With each passing thrust within you, his motions quickened up through you, the head of his cock kissing right at your cervix repeatedly without stop.

Arousal was the only thing, the only emotion that your body could be running on at this exact moment — your inner thighs stained with your slick, leaving a small pool of fluid under you; evidence to how good he really made you feel when fucking right into you. Resonates of skin-against-skin and more noises of sexual matter filled up the once silent truck, the windows nearly curtained and blocked off with fog sourcing from the both of your bodies continually pressing up against each other. His hips angled in different kinds of ways, just to aim his cock right against the spots that would cause your back to arch off the seat and your hips to slightly raise in the air. More sweat began to form at your skin, glistening underneath the dim lights.

Your legs were more spread apart, nevertheless still perched on his shoulders as the positioned of your body arched off the seat raised body gave him a better approach to pound into you. His sweat mixed in with yours, cock drilling into your pussy at an pace that could be almost considered violent by the looks of it. He had his hand pushing down a little more into your hip, his build tilted over your own. Moans of his title — of his military title — were being moaned out from you in a head full of rapture where you saw stars in your vision, which fueled that arousal just about leading to his climax once he heard that angelic tone of yours speaking his name.

"You fuck me so good, sir." you whimpered in a fragile voice, that built-up tension in your stomach almost at its high.

Those words of yours were almost enough to drive him over the edge, but his composure was held onto just for a little longer.

"That's right, lovie. I'm the only man who can fuck you like this, nobody else, yeah?" he pants out, the violent pace of his beginning to stutter just at the slightest. His composure was slipping off now, without a doubt. "Can feel you squeezing me — shit, — let go for me, angel, come on."

With his words basically giving you the permission, your body stiffens while a series of whimpers and moans are mainly heard from a clear volume. Your cunt clenches around his cock while it remains still up against your cervix as he gives into a climax the same time as you do, his near-animalistic groans merging with your much softer moans. Ghost gives a single, last thrust before hot waves of pleasure spill from him as he fills your cunt to the brim with the warmth of his seed. Heavy breaths of almost exhaustion come from him for a few moments longer before he slowly pulls out of you, your weakened body vaguely at the feeling of it. His eyes sweep down from your eyes, to the rise and fall of your breasts, to the perspective of his seed spilling out from the puffy lips of your cunt and onto the splattered material of the seats.

By now, the influence of the substance has sufficiently gone down considering the quantities of alleviation that you and Ghost had managed to release off of each other. (In the most intimate, non-expected way possible — and during a full-on mission.) He cautiously lowers his hand at your hip to dip between your soaking thighs, the heel of his palm rubbing at your raw, delicate flesh dripping of both of your sticky releases. Your mind finally goes conscious for the first time since both you and him had temporarily hid out in this truck; a faint flush coming to rise at your cheeks once the realization hits you — you fucked a superior, your literal lieutenant.

It’s not like the either of you were to blame, you think.

He then leans down to you, palm still rubbing at your folds as you shakily sigh out, a kiss being pressed into your forehead. It was abnormally sweet, especially coming from someone like him. But you weren’t complaining, — as long as he wasn’t pissed about fucking a subordinate, such as yourself, or had any regrets about doing any of this with you; drug’s influence or not. You can’t help but allow your face to flush lightly at the kiss, a small blush blossoming around your cheeks. He then wholly lowers back the edge of his pushed-up balaclava, his full face now concealed like always.

“You regret any of this?” you asked quietly, not out shame or sadness, but a genuine curiosity to hear from his side. Your breaths were still coming out shaky from his rubbing palm.

It’s dead silence coming from him, before he then speaks up with a slight unpredicted chuckle.

“Regret this?” Ghost repeats back to you, his head cocked to the side as his eyes find yours once more. He looks at you as if you told some kind of joke to him — or just said something really stupid. “No way in hell would I regret doing something like this with a girl that has your looks, or your sweetness, sweetheart.”

“Good, but you better not be saying that because of the stuff we got hit with.” your said more teasingly.

“Nah. I only speak truth from my cold, dead heart, love.” his deep voice responds back to you, the corners of his black-smudged eyes crinkled in an indication of a grin.

#. ˚ ʚ — ꒰ simon riley. ꒱ #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #female reader #.୨୧ fawnpires

[crazyoffher]

WATCHTOWER.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: a late-night visitor treads into the restaurant you work at, entering with the plan to grab a drink before heading home, and leaving with her drink and a girl on her mind.

warnings: not proofread (unedited).

word amount: 2600+

part two part three

You wiped the tables, a dry cloth over your shoulder as you dragged the damp towel across the wood surfacing. It was a quarter past eleven and your coworker had just served his last table of the night, opting to help the dishwasher load the silverware for the next morning which took about five minutes, leaving you to wipe down each table and chair in the main room and VIP section while he waved his goodbyes to you not long ago.

To say the restaurant having working air conditioning was a major relief considering spring was around and the temperatures were increasing day by day, and it didn't help that because your restaurant was a high-end restaurant in the core of LA, you wore a black button-up with black slacks for pants, black dress shoes, and a white vest and tie as your everyday work outfit.

You were a sweating maniac most days.

You heard the door to the restaurant entry open, sparing the entry's a glance before directing your attention to the table, the last table you had to wipe down, at that. "Sorry, we closed about thirty minutes ago. If you'd like me to, I can set you up a reservation for another day." At the end of your sentence, you looked up at the entryway to get a full glance at the three figures standing at the entry.

The first two to catch your eye were two men dressed in all black with semi-bulky figures, figuring them out to be bodyguards. You looked down slightly to the girl that they were protecting, immediately recognizing her.

It's a part of your job to identify celebrities as they come and go through the restaurant to give them better treatment, so America's new 'It' girl, Jenna Ortega, was not somebody you could've possibly failed to notice. She gave you a slight smile.

"Oh no, it's fine. I was just coming in and out of places around here to see who was still open so I could get a drink." She laughed it off which made you crack a small smile. Looking around the area to see all of the tables cleaned and mostly everything set for tomorrow, you turned back to the girl. "Well, if you were just looking for a drink, I could sit you at the bar for now."

You pointed toward the stools where the bar was, seeing as it was one of the last things you had to set up for the next day. "I don't fully lock up until twelve and I have to fix up the bar anyway, it's fine."

Even from a distance, you could see the uncertainty in her eyes at making you work a bit extra just for her. "You sure?"

"Totally. Sit at any stool," You shot her a smile before grabbing the last chair to turn upside down and put on the table, "and I'll be right there."

You could hear her spare you a 'thank you' before listening to the shuffling of her and her bodyguards, shooting a glance in their direction to see the three sitting in stools, the bodyguards two seats to the left of Jenna, giving her space.

Were you a fan of Jenna's? Maybe. Normally, being in the presence of celebrities didn't bother you at all, you had grown accustomed to it. Something about her, though, it made you a bit nervous to go up and serve her at the bar. You put your fears aside, though, because you'd rather not keep her waiting.

Quickly, you went around the bar into the kitchen to put your cleaning items away, washing your hands quickly but thoroughly before grabbing three glasses from the racks and heading out to the bar.

"You'd like a..." You trailed off, waiting for her to finish your sentence to which she did. "Vodka martini."

You shot her a look, a smile plastered on your face. "At this hour - no, at your age?" She genuinely laughed at your remark, "Okay, you got me. I know you might get this question a lot, and you might hate it, but what do you like that's non-alcoholic?"

You put on your thinking face, settling to ignore the short side-eyes her bodyguards were giving you while deep in their own conversation. "A berry soda usually does it for me. You mix any sort of berry syruping, raspberry, blueberry, etcetera into a Sprite or Sierra Mist, and if you want just a tiny bit of alc then you add a tadpole amount of white wine. A lime is optional, too."

"I guess I'll be having a...strawberry soda then, Sprite with a lime."

"Yeah, you trust me? - My recommendation, I mean." You pulled a strawberry syrup bottle out from under the counter, never breaking eye contact with the girl.

She giggled lightly at your word mix-up. "You seem like somebody I could trust, so sure. You look...good, by the way." Jenna added in, having eyed your suit-wear as she was making her way to a stool. Nervousness was laced in her voice, but you were too oblivious as a person generally to notice.

At the unexpected compliment, your cheeks tinted a slight red, breaking eye contact to hide away your face and grab one of the three cups you had placed out. "Thank you. I dare say you look nice as well."

Jenna scoffed, 'Yeah right." She looked down at her clothing, sporting baggy black jeans and a plain black tee that was covered by a jacket with designs all over it. "My outfit is about the plainest it could ever be."

You shook your head at her, turning to grab a Sprite out from the mini-fridge. "Your outfit never defines whether you look good or bad, not in my books anyway. It's about the face, or even the heart, as corny as that definitely sounds."

Your back was now turned to Jenna, cracking open the bottle of Sprite and pouring it over the ice in a metallic cup. So, unless you had eyes on the back of your head, you couldn't see Jenna with her elbow on the countertop, hand resting on her cheek as she glanced all around your figure.

Something about you to her was...interesting. She couldn't put her finger on it.

"That means you think I have a nice heart. You just met me." Though she couldn't see it, you grinned widely at her audacity to pinpoint the 'heart' part of your words instead of the 'face' part.

"I'd like to hope you do have a good heart, but I'm not sure because just like you said, we just met. I do know you have a rather pretty face, anybody could see that part of you, and I think that's enough for now." You placed the lid over the metallic cup, holding it before grabbing the bottom of the cup and shaking harshly.

Jenna, somebody who was quick with her words, struggled to respond to you. She found no words to possibly combat the indirect, massive compliment you just gave her.

As she drafted her next sentence, she overlooked the cup in front of her until her hand brushed against it mindlessly. Removing her other hand from her cheek, she looked at the glass in front of her, the drink a vibrant red from the strawberry syrup. She then looked up to see you, your eyes staring back at her.

"Are you okay? You seem a bit out of it." Your eyebrows furrowed in slight concern, and the only thing Jenna could do was shake her head. "Oh no, I'm fine. Just a bit tired. And thank you."

"Likewise. And you're welcome." You portrayed a smile that Jenna seemed to enjoy viewing. Eyeing her bodyguards, you leaned in over the counter to shorten the space between you and Jenna for the action of whispering. "Do you know if they want anything from here?"

Jenna's already slight smile grew wider, "What, you're scared to talk to a duo of big guys?" To her words, you gave her a sour look that she knew was all sarcastic.

"Well, in my experience, bodyguards haven't always been the nicest. More overly protective, and yeah, that's their whole job but sometimes they could just tune it down a bit. You try to hand someone their food and they eye you down like you're about to pull a gun out." You pushed yourself back slightly, deciding to give Jenna more space even though she quite didn't mind the vicinity between the two of you.

"I guess that's fair. Eddie, Bennett." She called to them, the two burly men immediately halting their conversation and directing their attention to the significantly small girl.

"Do you want anything from the bar?" The two men eyed you for a split second, leaving you to fiddle with your own fingers in a somewhat nervous state while you awaited an answer.

"Er, just a water."

"Same here."

You muttered an 'okay' before grabbing the other two cups and filling them with water, handing them off to the two men who each thanked you. "I'd say they're pretty nice." Jenna retorted, and you shook your head at her.

"You try the drink yet?" You moved to the bar's ledges where all the alcohol was at, all out of place and some caps left open, and got to work organizing everything while maintaining a conversation with Jenna.

You didn't get a response from her immediately, maybe around three seconds after. "Well, now I just did."

"What 'ya think?"

"I think that I should come here more often so I can get this drink served to me more often by a pretty cute waitress." Jenna regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. It was said with complete confidence, but now she found herself being too bold.

You pursed your lips to fight back the smile that challenged itself to spread, not daring to face her. You guessed Jenna was one for eye contact, as her eyes mercilessly burned into your face at (seemingly) all times.

"Why'd you want a drink so late, especially if you're tired? Don't you have like...a personal little bartender in your million-dollar home?" You cheekily ghosted her wealth, and Jenna bit the inside of her cheek to fight the smile that wanted to glue itself to her face.

"I had business meetings all day, sponsorships, and whatnot. I started them at around ten-ish this morning and I got out not even twenty minutes ago. I didn't want to go home just yet despite the fact that I feel more than ready to pass out on my bed. What have you done all day?"

"Be whined to multiple times and berated by D-list celebrities for not cooking their steak correctly. If you couldn't tell by now, I'm not the cook. I'll deal with it all day everyday though, the number of tips I get by the end of the day is fucking amazing."

"Give me a number." Jenna sipped on her drink, returning her arm to it's former position with her elbow resting on the countertop and her palm on her cheek, listening intently.

"I'd say...a thousand to fifteen hundred per day, two-thousand if we have actual A-listers come in. I earn my rent in a day." You laughed, and Jenna surprisingly looked shocked at the number. "You make that much working, what? Five days a week? That's about seventy-five hundred a week just on tips!"

"Well, because of the number of tips each of us normally get plus our actual paycheck, they shorten the days we work, so I actually work three days a week. I'll take it though, that's eighteen thousand a month on tips."

"That's too much, what's the catch?"

"Being berated constantly, having food and drinks thrown at you by adults acting like toddlers, and you have to be ridiculously fast. I'm talking taking customers' orders, giving other customers their orders, and sometimes making drinks all at the same time. It's stressful, a lot of people quit after the first month or so."

"That sounds awful, how long have you been here?"

You pondered about it. The days moved by fast when you were working so sometimes you lose track of what month it is, even. "Er, six months next week, I'm sure. It's hard to even keep track of months sometimes when the days go by so fast, plus the stress. Right now, I'm probably the most relaxed I've ever been standing in this restaurant, and I have you to thank for that."

Jenna grinned a big, flashy smile that you seemed to heat up at, slyly trying to feel your face. "Well, you're welcome. I - yeah?"

Jenna was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder, the finger belonging to her bodyguard, Bennett. He flashed up his phone to show her the time, "It's time to leave, miss. We promised to have you in the car by 11:45 at the latest."

Jenna just nodded, glancing at her glass that was still 3/4th full before looking up at you, seeing that you were wiping down the glasses Eddie and Bennett had given back to you. "Here, I'll get you a styrofoam for it." You left into the kitchen with the glasses at hand, hanging them back on the rack before searching in a cabinet for a styrofoam cup.

By the time you walked back to the bar, Jenna and her bodyguards were standing up, Jenna's guards merely awaiting her movement while she stretched, waiting for you.

Taking the glass, you dumped the remains of her drink into the styrofoam before sealing it with a plastic lid, handing it off to Jenna who gladly took it. "You have books in here?"

Jenna pointed out the shelves hung up on a wall, holding books that were slanted against one another, most of them with bulky spines. "Oh yeah, those are mainly for decoration, but I've actually read one or two myself. Most of them are the owners but we're allowed to shelve our own books if we'd like."

"You put any up?" Jenna questioned, abandoning her position next to her bodyguards to get a closer look at the nailed shelf. "About three so far. I just finished reading a book of my own that I plan on putting up here as well."

You maneuvered to where Jenna was, pointing to a navy-blue book that was quite big, a bulky spine faced in their direction with the words "CROOKED YOUNG" stretched out across the spine. "Crooked Young, It's the best book I've ever read. I really recommend it."

"Yeah? Where can I buy it, Barnes and Noble?" Jenna looked up at you, taking in your height. You were about four, maybe five inches taller than her, and she could tell through the naturally-popping veins in your arms the way your body was shaped through your tailored dress shirt and vest, you were physically fit.

"What - oh no, take it." You reached forward, grabbed the book off the shelf, and handed it to her. She looked at you again, the same look of uneasiness in her eyes that she gave you earlier. "Before you say anything, yes I am positive you can take it. I've read it one too many times to keep it around, otherwise I'd might just read it again."

Jenna gave you one last smile that lasted until she was out the door. "Alright, but I will be returning this to you when I'm done."

"So desperate to see me again?" You teased, a sly grin on your face as you laughed the joke away. "And how do you plan on doing that if you don't even know my name?" You questioned her to which she just shrugged.

"Your name is..."

"(Y/N). And you are?" You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head to seem sincere about your question. Though she was more than aware you knew who she was, she answered, "Jenna. I'll be seeing you soon, (Y/N)."

And with that, she turned on her heel and left the restaurant, your eyes not leaving her rather-short frame until you couldn't see her anymore.

"Eddie?" Jenna called to one of her bodyguards. sat in the passenger seat as Bennett started driving away. "Yes, miss?"

"Do restaurant workers typically work the same days every week?"

He thought about it for a second before looking at her through the rearview mirror. "Most of the time, yes. Why?"

"Please try to keep in mind that she was working on a Thursday."

☟ ☟ ☟

You guys want a part two? Please comment it below or send your answers in my asks :)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesdayaddams #bodyguard #celebrity #actress #jenna marie ortega #celebrity x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #restaurant au #wattpad #lesbian

[mythserene]

A BEATLE DIDN’T SAY THAT! Lewisohn’s lab-created quotes

“One of the things about this book that is a strength is it’s not me saying anything, it’s them or other people. I shape the text, I plot where it goes, I weave it, but the quotes are theirs. And so when I’ve got Paul McCartney behaving in a way some readers might think, ‘Whatever, oh dear,’ it’s actually him saying it. So you end up thinking that to his own credit he said that. It’s not me saying it.” (Mark Lewisohn, ‘Noted,’ (October 7, 2013) Somerset, Guy.)

This is hella long, and that's because it's actually a full blog post. (In case you want it in a less monstrous form.)

A lot of people for a long time have put a lot of trust in Mark Lewisohn’s footnotes. Or at least in the fact of those footnotes. Because once you dig through them for any length of time you quickly discover that Mark Lewisohn’s footnotes hold secrets that would get him expelled from any undergraduate program. They reveal a “history” often contrived through a mass of Frankenquotes, ala carte creations, Lewisohn rephrased ‘paraphrases,’ and worse. For some parts of the narrative things aren’t too bad, yet in others monsters lurk around every corner. But this is not the sort of thing that’s graded on a curve, and it is past time to have a conversation about what standards should be accepted in Beatles’ scholarship.

Lewisohn lists his sources unlike most others. And his footnotes alone are more insightful than some other writers’ books. (Reddit, r/beatles)

I do not judge footnotes based on their insightfulness, nor do I want to single out a redditor, but I grabbed the comment because it’s an opinion that is widely shared and even accepted as canon. At least by people who have not combed those freakish footnotes. And while the pages of piled up sources do look fearsome en masse, a closer inspection reveals an offense to the truth, a threat to the record, and a blight on Beatles’ historiography.

“The rules for writing history are obvious. Who does not perceive that its chief law is never to dare say anything false, and never dare withhold anything true? The slightest suspicion of hatred or favor must be avoided. That such should be the foundations is known to all; the materials with which the building will be raised consist of facts and words.” –Cicero

A Look at Lewisohn’s Lab-created Frankenquotes

FIRST, WHAT ARE QUOTES? AND WHY ARE QUOTES?

Quotes are the soul and center of recorded—and recording— history.

And the rules around quotes and quotation marks are pretty simple. Most people, even if they’ve never written anything beyond a term paper, understand what quotation marks represent.

A set of quotation marks means, “This person said or wrote ‘these exact words’ at some given time.” You can smash a quote from two hours before or two years before right up against a separate quote to make your point—although it might get your grade lowered—but what you cannot do is take two different statements from two different times and make them seem like they are one statement.

When you put words inside one set of quotation marks you are stating, in black and white, that the identified person made this statement. That they said all those words together—or if you want to excise a reasonable part and use ellipses to represent that— as part of the same statement.

Look, combining two separate quotes that are not part of the same thought or topic is not a subjective issue. It is not an issue of controversy. Quotes are the bone marrow of written history. Quotes are the alpha and omega. In academic work or journalism they have to be, which makes sense as soon as you think about it. If it was cool for me to take a transcript and grab half a sentence from page 2 and half a sentence from page 17, push them together as if those words were spoken one after the other in a single thought, I bet I can manage to get those words to say almost anything I want.

Separate thoughts must be in two separate quotation marks. Separate. Somewhere between four sentences and a paragraph is widely accepted as the “two separate quotes” line, and there can be some ethical and technical wiggle room in a long rant by a person, but what makes all that subjective nonsense go out the window is if the quotes come from two separate questions. Or two separate days. That’s two quotes. Not hard.

Which again, makes sense if the point is conveying information to the reader and lessening the chance of a writer manipulating someone else’s words to express something that the person didn’t mean.

This is the contract inherent in a quote. These are the rules we all agree to and understand, and these are the reasons why. And there’s no reason to break them.

Why do you want me to believe that John said these two things at one time? What was wrong with what he did say?

THE FOUR MOST COMMON WAYS MARK LEWISOHN MAULS THE MEANING OF THE QUOTE:

The Basic Lewisohn Frankenquote 🧟‍♂️

(“CONCLUDING FIVE WORDS FROM—” – I cannot even see the point of this THREE PART monster. Full footnote reads: 9) Author interview with Tony Meehan, September 6, 1995. (“I met George again in 1968 and for some reason he was harboring a grudge against me. He was very, very uptight about it—’You blocked us getting a recording contract …’ ”) First part of George quote from interview by Terry David Mulligan, The Great Canadian Gold Rush, CBC radio, May 30 and June 6, 1977; concluding five words from interview for The Beatles Anthology)

This three-headed monster attributed to George Harrison is a very dull little guy. Not particularly venomous. Just convenient, I guess. For whatever reason, Mark Lewisohn decided it was worth rummaging through the quote buffet until he collected enough pieces for George Harrison to say this thing. “…concluding five words from…” What are we even doing here? No, really. Please tell me.

And like a lot of the footnotes for these bespoke quotations, there are further problems. “[F]rom interview for Beatles Anthology”? An interview that aired? In one of the episodes? Can you narrow it down? I guess I’ll just have to listen very closely to them all and hope I don’t miss the five words.

But if we got bogged down in the sorts of trivial details that would immediately lose a college student a letter grade off a History 101 paper we would never get anywhere. We have to stick to the violent felonies.

*Love the "George would say——" Uh, would he? Well, I guess after all that trouble you went to, he would now. It's really incredible how cavalier Lewisohn is about a Beatle's words.

These sorts of reconstituted, lab-engineered, made up “quotes” are shot throughout Tune In. “Quotes” made up of words from two, three, and even four sources, spoken months or often years apart.

Ala Carte Creations 🍱

It really is a buffet, and these ala carte creations come in all shapes and sizes. They might just be words that have been plucked up and glued back together to make something more useful to a particular narrative. (Ellipses or dash optional.)

TUNE IN: “John saw a bigger picture, and it would be surprising if it wasn’t equally obvious, or made obvious, to Brian and George. He likened Paul’s enduring snag with Brian to his other long-standing difficulty: ‘[Brian] and Paul didn’t get along—it was a bit like [Stuart and Paul] between the two of them.’” (Footnote 37: Interview by Peter McCabe and Robert D. Schonfeld, September 1971)

Bonus 🍒 Phoebe's dramatic reading of John's original quote:

The Donut 🍩

Then there are a seemingly uncountable number of “quotes” with a sentence or three ripped out from the middle, but with zero representation that more words were ever there. (And in most of these particular deceptions, the simple representation of something excised (. . .) would make the quote fine. There are a lot of these, but they are also the easiest to fix.)

Chapter 10: “I was in a sort of blind rage for two years. [I was e]ither drunk or fighting. **It had been the same with other girlfriends I’d had.** There was something the matter with me.”

And then there are the true buffet bonanzas, words lifted and twisted beyond recognition until they say something brand spanking new. 

However, John remembered Paul’s attitude to Brian being very different. John was always emphatic that Paul didn’t want Brian as the Beatles’ manager and presented obstacles to destabilize him, to make his job difficult … like turning up late for meetings. “Three of us chose Epstein. Paul used to sulk and God knows what … [Paul] wasn’t that keen [on Brian]—he’s more conservative, the way he approaches things. He even says that: it’s nothing he denies.”

The Lewisohn Remixes 🍸

And then there are the “paraphrases.” I couldn’t even begin to guess how many of these there are, and often they aren’t even paraphrases, but whole new Mark Lewisohn re-interpretations with quotation marks slapped around them. But if you don’t check, you probably won’t know, because like this Lewisohn rewrite of a well-known Mrs. Harrison quote, there’s a good chance you’ll recognize the bulk of it, making it less likely that you’ll catch the scalpel work excising Paul. And while I don’t want to get caught in the nooks and crannies of intent in an example like this one I have to say, just this once, that what has to be a purposeful excising of Paul to create a slightly new quote on one side, combined with a badly acted, bad faith—(or bad scholar)—“Where was Paul when John’s mom died?” on the other, is par for the course. 

George Harrison’s mom’s made up Lewisohn rephrase which coincidentally removes Paul from the imagery.]  ❦  LEWISOHN:“ Asked some years later to describe how he’d been able to help John cope with the loss of Julia, Paul could remember nothing of the period at all. It could be they didn’t see much of each other in the summer of 1958. John was working at the airport, and Paul and George went on holiday together—adventurous for boys of 16 and 15. But Louise Harrison would recall how she encouraged George to visit John at Mendips, “so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.”  ❦  DAVIES: “They were still practicing a lot at George’s house, the only house where they got endless hospitality and encouragement. . . . I forced George to go round and see him, to make sure he still went off playing in their group and just didn’t sit and brood. They all went through a lot together, even in those early days, and they always helped each other.”

Why do you have to slice and dice and reconstitute people’s words? No writer, and certainly no historian, should ever feel empowered to take words from a historical figure from two or three different places and topics and times, splice them together, and tell us, “Winston Churchill said this.” No he didn’t! Why are you so intent on changing the words of the people you’re writing about? What’s wrong with just using two different quotes? 

You cannot take two or three quotes from two or three or even four separate statements, stick them between one set of quotation marks and say John or Paul or George or Joe Smith said this. 

No they didn’t. They never said that. Why do you want me to think they did?? 

All these words are Abraham Lincoln’s, but this is not a Lincoln quote:

“Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say for one that I have no other so great as that of — making a most discreditable exhibition of myself.” 

(I kept it ridiculous, although I didn’t have to.)

But I want you, the reader, to be saying to yourself, “Okay, enough already. I get it!” Because in the last few days I have wandered too far into the weeds too many times and written far too many words detailing the multiplicity of ways Mr. Lewisohn does violence to each and every law of reporting historical facts, and could write many more. And I will post a more detailed list of the crimes against the quote that I am charging Mark Lewisohn with as we go forward, but I don’t think we need that now. The fact is that every fair-minded person knows what quotation marks represent, and there is no more fair-minded group of people than serious Beatles fans and scholars. And it is those fair-minded scholars who I want most to hear me. Whether you’ve written books or host a podcast or just know that you know a whole lot of stuff and take seriously your part of the trust in preserving the truth about The Beatles for us and future generations, it is you I am really talking to. My Cicero quoting-freaks. The ones who care about getting it right.

“The chief, the only, aim of style is to put facts in a clear light, with no concealment.” - Lucian of Samosata

⁠What footnotes can do, and what footnotes can’t.

You can list multiple sources in a single footnote. That’s not only fine, it’s correct. If I want to tell part of a story based on several sources, that often means several sources in a footnote. But not for one, single quote. 

The problem isn’t the footnote, it’s the bioengineered quote on the page that you swept under a footnote hoping I wouldn’t notice. 

Which leads us to what a footnote is not. A footnote is not a post-hoc fixative for your textual sins. You cannot do whatever you want as long as you confess it in a footnote. A footnote is not a magic spell. A footnote is not the universally understood symbol for “I have my fingers crossed behind my back.” You cannot fix lies and misrepresentations in the footnotes. Footnotes aren’t for trying to chase down three different sources to match up which part of a manufactured “quote” someone said on which date. Footnotes are not the picture on the front of a puzzle box. I should not need to find corner pieces to figure out which of these George Harrison words were actually spoken together. 

Footnotes are a truthful and independently verifiable record of primary sources. It’s that simple.

And taking Mark Lewisohn completely out of the picture for a moment, I feel sure we can all agree that neither John Lennon nor Paul McCartney nor George Harrison nor Ritchie Starkey would want anyone rearranging their words as if they were guitar chords. You wouldn’t take three-quarters of Penny Lane and one-quarter of Across the Universe, put them together and call it a Beatles‘ song. So don’t take three quarters of John to Jann Wenner and one-quarter of John to Lisa Robinson, put them together and call it a Beatle’s quote.

MY PERSONAL STANDARD IS THAT IF SOMEONE REPRESENTS, “A BEATLE SAID THIS,” IT BETTER DAMN WELL BE SOMETHING A BEATLE SAID.

None of the Beatles, dead or alive, would be cool with their words being taken out of context at all, let alone two or three different statements on god knows what being combined into one. This isn’t hard, though. Use two or three separate quotation marks, and don’t take statements out of context. Don’t mix and match their words, but don’t twist them, either. If a person said something, it is the historian’s duty to represent those words to the best of your ability, and then use them to tell a factual story focused on what you feel is important. Staying true to the original words and true to their meaning. If you can’t use those words without twisting them, then change your story to fit their words, not the other way around. If their statement helps tell the story your way, use it! For goodness sake, John Lennon said at least two opposing things about almost every topic on earth, so there should be enough to choose from without being deceptive. I actually want the truth. Don’t you?

Biography is story based around accurately represented, trustworthy and verifiable facts. And look, Beatles fans, whoever your favorite is: we are not going to get the truth about his history if we don’t learn to take these things seriously. Let’s have—if not high standards—at least the lowest generally accepted standards. In the mid-term we need a lot more Beatles scholars with a lot more points of view, and now—right now—we need experienced Beatles scholars to prioritize searching out and finding smart, interested people to mentor. And we simply must ensure that we aren’t allowing to solidify into stone “facts” that are not facts and statements no one ever made. I don’t think any honest Beatles fan—(which rounds up to all of them)—wants any question around that issue.

The record is the most important thing. Now, and always. This is not about John versus Paul. John versus Paul may live on always in our hearts, but for Beatles history, it’s the wrong question. I’d rather someone be up front about their loves, but in the end the focus should be on representing the primary facts in their most pristine form. Love who you love most, but place truth above all. Pristine facts. Pristine quotes. Nothing hidden. Nothing misrepresented. 

Let the historical actors speak for themselves. That is their right.

And the historian’s duty.

NEXT, WE DISSECT A MONSTER.

Final note: I became frustrated and (maybe strangely) offended by Lewisohn's obscene pretenses in 2020, but my frustrations were nebulous and unfocused until this incredible AKOM series. I feel much better now. Angrier. But better. They worked their asses off. 🥂

#lewisohn #akom #the beatles #tune in #fine tuning #frankenquotes #lewisohn's monsters #historiography #paul mccartney #john lennon #george harrison #ringo starr #mark lewisohn #a beatle never said that #beatles #brian epstein #allen klein #Spotify

[soberscientistlife]

‘I Want To Do My Part’

When the USS Gregory sank in 1942, a mess hall officer named Charles Jackson French dragged a raft full of his wounded crewmates to safety through shark-infested waters.

Born on Sept. 29, 1919, Charles Jackson French spent his early years in Foreman, Arkansas. At the time, Black and white pools were segregated, making it difficult for Black people to find opportunities to learn to swim. Swimming World Magazine speculates that French may have learned to swim by visiting the city’s stone quarries and the Red River.

However he learned to swim, French’s days in Foreman were numbered. After his parents died, he left Arkansas and moved in with his married, older sister Viola in Omaha, Nebraska. And by the time he was 18, French decided to strike out on his own and enlist in the U.S. Navy

The Navy, like swimming pools across the country, was strictly segregated. As a Black man, French had virtually no other choice than to work as a mess attendant. In that capacity, the U.S. Navy Office Of Information reports that French spent four years the USS Houston, serving meals to the white sailors, cleaning their tables, and keeping the mess hall spick and span.

French returned to Omaha when his deployment ended in November 1941, but he wouldn’t stay in Nebraska for long. After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, French promptly re-enlisted.

“I want to do my part, because I’m already trained and I can start right away,” French said at the time.

He had spent his last tour cruising around the Pacific. But this time, Charles Jackson French would see significantly more action.

On Sept. 5, 1942, the USS Gregory and the USS Little were attacked by Japanese destroyers around 1 a.m. while patrolling the waters near Savo Island and Guadalcanal. The U.S. Navy Office Of Information reports that the Gregory, outgunned, sank after just three minutes. Its surviving men were plunged into shark-infested waters as the Japanese fired on them.

But French leaped into action. The 23-year-old helped injured sailors onto a makeshift raft and — when U.S. Navy Ensign Robert Adrian told him that the current would pull the raft toward a Japanese-occupied island — volunteered to jump in the water and pull the raft in the other direction.

Adrian told him it was impossible. French, according to Adrian, replied: “Just keep telling me if I’m goin’ the right way.”

He shed his waterlogged clothes, tied a rope around his waist, and started to swim. For the next six to eight hours, French tirelessly swam as sharks got so close that they sometimes brushed against his legs. At sunrise, an American scout finally spotted him and the others and sent rescue.

But French’s ordeal didn’t end there. As he later recounted, as recorded by Chester Wright in Black Men and Blue Water, French and other uninjured soldiers were taken to a rest camp by their rescuers, who wanted to separate French from the white sailors. To French’s surprise, the sailors insisted that French stay with them as a fellow member of Gregory’s crew.

“Them white boys stood up for me,” French emotionally told Wright.

The story of Charles Jackson French’s heroism was later made public by Adrian, who described it on a radio program called It Happened in the Service in October 1942, according to Swimming World Magazine. Adrian had never learned French’s full name — he and the others only knew him as “French” — but he fully credited him for their rescue that day.

“I can assure you that all the men on that raft are grateful to mess attendant French for his brave action off Guadacanal that night,” Adrian said.

The story was soon picked up by the national news, and Charles Jackson French was identified by NBC. He was celebrated across the country, featured in a comic strip, and lauded by the Black press.

Adrian “and other white Americans owe their LIVES to a black man whom he identified as a ‘mess attendant named French,'” the Pittsburgh Courier, a Black newspaper, wrote after French was identified.

The newspaper continued: “Although Mess Attendant Charles Jackson French of Arkansas was not in a heroic job, he MADE a heroic job out of it. He who had been looked down upon as a caste man, frozen in status, suddenly was looked up to as a SAVIOUR.”

Though rumors spread that Charles Jackson French might be awarded the Navy Cross, he was given only a letter of commendation from Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., the then-commander of the Southern Pacific Fleet.

French may have been denied the medal because a Silver Star was awarded to one of his superiors — and it was unprecedented to award a higher medal to a subordinate. But the Omaha World-Herald noted some decades later that future president John F. Kennedy had been given the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for a similar act of bravery.

After his service on the USS Gregory, Charles Jackson French didn’t rest on his laurels. He returned to his role in the mess on the USS Endicott and the USS Frankford, and witnessed D-Day and the invasion of southern France.

After World War II ended, French faded from the public eye. Black Past reports that he suffered from alcoholism and depression, and passed away on Nov. 7, 1956, in San Diego, California. He was only 37 years old.

But since then, there’s been a push to give this forgotten World War II hero his due. In April 2021, a post about French from the International Swimming Hall of Fame revived his story. And a year later, Rear Admiral Charles Brown, the Navy public affairs officer, presented eight of French’s relatives with a posthumous Navy and Marine Corps Medal — just like Kennedy’s.

“It will inspire generations of sailors,” Brown said at the medal ceremony, reported by the Omaha World-Herald. “It’s a story of the best of who we are.”

French has been honored in other ways, too. A training pool at Naval Base San Diego was named after French, and a post office in his hometown of Omaha also bears his name.

Black History Month Day 24

#black history facts #black history month #blackhistory #black lives matter

[trans-axolotl]

also: I mostly switched over from saying "antipsychiatry" to psych abolition after I started to see more groups like CPA use it, and thought I'd share some of my thoughts on it.

antipsychiatry is a fundamental part of psych abolition for me, but i think my definition of psych abolition contains a lot more. first, there's a lot more things than just psychiatry that i want to abolish and transform--the whole mental health system and many different belief systems, types of providers, forms of treatment, and types of incarceration that are encompassed in that. i think it's important to name and identify the particular harms of psychiatry as a value system in the way it is the strictest example of pathologizing, medicalizing, and the strongest adherer to the purely biomedical model of illness and how this creates so much harm. but i think that there are also so many other harmful structures + belief systems within the whole mental health system. i also sometimes see therapists, for example, portraying themselves as alternatives to psychiatry, and while that's true in the sense that they are a different treatment option than a psychiatrist, they are often still harmful actors in their own rights and entangled with the state in an equally bad way.

second thing for me is that i think it's really important to intentionally build cross movement solidarity, especially with the prison abolition movement and to expand the way psych survivors currently support support people fighting for abolition of all forms of incarceration. (i drew inspiration from sins invalid and the 10 principles of Disability Justice). I see so many people in psych survivor spaces saying " I can't believe we were treated like prisoners on the ward" with the implication that it's fine if prisoners are treated that way, but it's bad when it happens to them. i think that's fucked up and i think that any psych survivor movement that doesn't actively support people incarcerated in prisons is a movement that does nothing to dismantle white supremacy. we need to be able to recognize the ways carceral logics operate in many different structures, and approach our activism as a shared struggle, where we constantly are led by those most impacted. so i think that naming what we're doing as "abolition" is important (with the important caveat that our organizing must then actually be abolitionist, and especially for white organizers, that we need to learn about the history of abolition, actively support the Black leaders and thinkers who have created the prison abolition movement and not center ourselves, that we actually have to be actively involved in supporting abolitionist work happening in your area, instead of just stealing the work of Black abolitionist scholars to use it for our own benefit without any credit or reciprocity, that we need to actively interrogate ways white supremacy culture and antiblackness are showing up in our movement places so that we aren't inviting our comrades who are people of color into spaces that are not safe for them, or exploiting our comrades of color by expecting them to do the work of dismantling the racism within our shared organizing spaces--don't call yourself a psych abolitionist if you still call the cops on your homeless neighbors, if your solutions to psych incarceration contribute to gentrification, if you refuse to support currently incarcerated comrades, for example.)

third thing is that antipsychiatry as a specific term is often associated with the sociologist theory from the 1960s, some of which i think is useful, some of which comes from antisemetic and racist psychiatrists who should not be given any legitimacy. antipsychiatry also often gets associated with cults like scientology. although i think that scientologists bastardize a lot of antipsychiatry stuff and weaponize it for their own ends, a lot of the public thinks of them if you say antipsychiatry, and it can cause misconceptions. also think that people sometimes assume antipsychiatry is inherently against medication and while i don't think that's our responsibility to clear up every time people misread our words on purpose, i think it's been a lot more helpful for me to talk about medication in the context of autonomy, harm reduction, war on drugs, and the ways that psychiatry creates issues to consent, autonomy, informed use, risk reduction, etc etc etc. and i think psych abolition helps me do that a little better.

i get in a lot of conversations with people who say "well from what i've seen you are just against institutionalization. why not just say that instead of attacking psychiatry?" and my answer is always if we want to end institutionalization, we have to end the structures, belief systems, and power dynamics of psychiatry--psychiatry is one of the logics that enables institutionalization to continue, and abolishing institutionalization without abolishing the structures that allow it to continue mean that it just pops up again in a new form with a new name (asylums to hospitals to group homes etc etc etc). so i think psych abolition to me is a clearer way to encompass the ways that all these systems are interconnected, and that when we're fighting for mad liberation, the right for mad/neurodivergent/mentally ill people to access care, support, healing on our own terms, to be free from institutionalization and violent treatment, and have the right to exist as mad people, whether or not we're "cured."

TL;DR: I switched to saying "psych abolition" rather than antipsychiatry even though there are many core ideas of antipsychiatry that I agree with. I think that for me, psych abolition helps clear up some misconceptions that people have about antipsychiatry, more clearly connects to prison abolition, and makes it clear that we need to transform more of the mental health system than just psychiatry.

#personal #psych abolition #antipsychiaty #psych survivor #surviving psych #mad liberation #mad pride #this is mostly just a ramble of some stuff i've been thinking on lately. terminology is not the most important thing to me #and as always i feel like what terms are the ones that are the most accessible to ppl given their own context #like i am not a huge fan of going up to people and saying YOU NEED TO STOP SAYING THIS BC I SAID so #i guess for me i've been really interested lately in seeing the growing psych abolition movement #and sort of the current era of psych survivior/mad lib activism. the ways its been growing and changing in the current decade

[lusthurts]

**SPOILER WARNING FOR THE RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE MOVIE**

This movie was very entertaining. It hit all the beats of a great rom-com. I personally enjoyed the music a lot, even if it was at times very different from the music in the book. Nicholas Galitzine was a standout of the main cast for me - he really made me feel Henry’s angst just like the book did, and I think this is a character that the film truly did justice. My personal favorite character from the movie though was Zahra - Sarah Shahi was absolutely incredible. She had fantastic comedic timing and her dynamic with Alex, Henry, Shaan, and Ellen. I really enjoyed Bea, Nora, & Pez as well, although I think they were severely underused and I kinda hated how the Nora/Pez dynamic worked without June. I think the romance was beautiful - I particularly enjoyed the polo scene, the karaoke scene, the Texas stuff, and the V&A museum.

I also laughed out loud a ton during the movie. Zahra’s scenes were hilarious, and the royal wedding/cake debacle was handled perfectly. I miss June here a bit, but I generally was very satisfied with how it all went down. Also, despite many fans early fears of a lack of chemistry between Nick and Taylor, I thought their chemistry was fantastic. Maybe not the best I’ve ever seen, but it was definitely believable, entertaining, and one of the most compelling parts of the story.

I also liked that we got more of Henry’s POV than we did in the book. It didn’t add a ton in my opinion, but I do think it allowed Nicholas Galitzine to show off his acting chops. I think the heart of the book remains, and after the press/everything I’d heard about the movie going into it, I was pleasantly surprised with how the political stuff was handled. Alex’s arc with Texas in particular was beautiful, and I think the end of the movie left me with a similar feeling to the book.

As for things I didn’t love, and I will say there were kind of a lot of small things, I’ve made a list that I’m sure no one cares much to read.

I missed June a lot. I identify a lot with her character, and although I totally understand why she was cut out (I do think in the book she serves less plot purpose than Nora), I actually think the choice to exclude her made even less sense after seeing the movie than before seeing it. Nora and Alex’s relationship felt very underdeveloped in the movie, and none of the romantic elements that I thought made their relationship important to the book ended up mattering at all in the movie. He kisses a different girl on New Year’s, there’s no mention of a sexual history between them, there’s no fake dating setup to detract from Alex/Henry, and Nora’s just generally absent. I feel like June would’ve served that purpose fine if not better.

The romance felt kind of rushed. The whole Christmas phone call that imo is so crucial to Henry & Alex’s relationship and character development doesn’t happen at all (probably because his parents are still together), and I didn’t have like a timer or clock or anything but it felt like the 100 or so pages leading up to the NYE kiss was like less than 20 minutes.

I hated that Alex’s parents were happily married, and I think it massively takes away from his character development. His arc honestly fell very short for me which is disappointing since he’s a character I identify so closely with. I don’t feel like they do his like major anxiety justice, and I think he goes from kinda being an idealist, reckless dummy to being a heartfelt, romantic, ready for a big commitment guy in the span of a few minutes.

I honestly could’ve done without the sex scenes. They were good, and I could tell the intimacy coordinator slayed with this one, but they were more explicit than the book imo (especially the one in Paris), and while I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, I would’ve much rather had more fade to black so as to save screen time to develop the romance more at the beginning.

I didn’t enjoy the Miguel character at all. He has no character development, and I do not at all understand how this character is the Luna/Liam blend he was promoted as. He functions as a ruthless journalist who despite being queer himself decides to out Henry and Alex to the entire world, and we NEVER get an explanation for why. It’s alluded to that maybe Miguel had feelings for Alex and did it because he resented Alex for not feeling the same? But like, he literally outed two prominent figures to the entire world at risk of benefitting a homophobic predator running for office. And he never apologizes? Or faces any repercussions???? Like this is just kind of there?? And that is NOT AT ALL Rafael Luna or Liam who are both generally speaking positive forces in Alex’s life. I just don’t get it at all.

This is a personal issue I had that most probably don’t care about, but I’m from Minnesota, and seeing Minnesota red in the movie was infuriating. MN is not a swing state, never really has been, and was basically the only state in the upper midwest to stay blue in the 2016 election. I’m biased because this is my home state, but MN would NEVER vote red and I’m kinda just annoyed at the implication that it did instead of them just choosing to blame it on all the actual swing states.

Okay those are my thoughts. I doubt anyone cares that much, but I needed to get it out of my system. I will say I really enjoyed the movie, and I can see why the bulk of reviews are positive. I think anyone who didn’t read the book won’t feel like anything is missing, and fans of the book will for the most part still really enjoy it. I will definitely be rewatching when it comes out officially on Amazon Prime tomorrow, and I can see myself rewatching hundreds more times in the future. But it sort of needs to exist independent of the book for me, I guess. And that’s okay! I think everyone involved did a great job with the adaptation, and I look forward to watching it again.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue movie #red white and royal blue review

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have any advice for how to embrace being multigender? I feel like I've spent my whole life trying to fit into one box or the other, my pre teen years I spent forcing myself to be a girl and teen years I spent trying to fit in with my transmasc friends when really I'm both of those things and I can't seperate them. It's hard being something that others see as actively contradictory, but seeing you be so confident in it gives me hope.

Hey there, thank you, first of all. Second of all, I feel you, we still feel like we need to fit into one box, this or that, male OR female, even though we are confident in knowing that we do not have just one gender. Black and white thinking is very common, and it can be hard to see past at times, especially when others reinforce it. People tell you you have to make these decisions, but there are no consequences for doing so. There have been zero consequences to us being honest about identifying as both a man and a woman

Genders and identities do not cancel each other out, even if they are viewed as "opposites". There is no logical reason why manhood and womanhood cannot co-exist- femininity and masculinity can co-exist, men can be feminine and women can be masculine, so naturally, one can make the next logical step of knowing that people can also be men and women at the same time. None of these things are more powerful than the other or capable of shutting the other down just by existing near it.

Especially when it comes to being trans, you should never have to throw any part of yourself away that brings you joy. If there are parts of you that you can confidently say are you, you are under no obligation to throw those parts of you away. The queer community is about accepting identities that differ from the "norm" and that easily extends to many identities that "don't make sense". The entire point of our community is to accept people with "different" identities, so there's no reason why "contradictory" ones don't belong here

You are allowed to take each part of yourself as it is, while also not having to throw away the rest of you. There are professional athletes who collect anime merchandise, play video games and tabletop RPGs- just because they're physically active and into sports doesn't mean they have to throw away their "nerdy" hobbies. These things are seen as opposites and contradictory, but people who end up liking and being "contradicting" things exist and are all around us.

Also, the concept of multigenderism has existed for a very long time in many cultures- the concept of male and female being opposing forces that can't co-exist is a very recent idea held by white European colonizers. Not every person is multigender, but the presence of multigender people should never be underestimated. We are way more common than people want you to believe. There are lots of us, just know that you're not alone. There are many of us. I hope this can help somewhat. Take care, good luck in your journey -K

#asks #answers #multigender #bigender #polygender

[mxmorel]

on messy redemption arcs (specifically todd brotzman's) and why i think they're a good thing

sharing the following thing i wrote in the dghda server re: todd's character growth in s2 upon the request of another server member!

for context, this is regarding a conversation that sprung up in the dghda server about some people viewing Todd as manipulative/uncaring towards Dirk, vs other people who saw his arc in s2 through a different lens. to be clear, despite various disagreements, the conversation was positive and everyone was respectful which was really nice, considering how bad discourse can get sometimes. but anyway i came in late to the conversation and this was my contribution - clearly, i fall in camp 2:

[About Todd's ups and downs in S2:] growth isn't linear and people can take steps forward and then fall back, but what matters ultimately to me is that they keep trying to take those steps forward even when they make mistakes and I think Todd does do that.

He's spent so much of his life in a prison of his own making, lying to everyone and digging a hole so deep he didn't think he could ever get out of it. And I think he did always care about Amanda at the very least but he did this HUGE fuckup and covering that up led to this avalanche of horrible decisions and now he has to own up to his shit and learn how to care about people again without hiding from his actions.

He definitely gets tunnel vision about Amanda, and I think that makes sense. He’s so desperate to “fix” things and a big part of his story in season 2 is learning that, like Amanda said, some things you can’t just FIX. Sometimes you just have to pick up the pieces you have left and do your best to make something good with them.

Additionally [in regards to previous comments made about Todd ignoring/not caring about the trauma Dirk suffered in his second bout in Blackwing], he doesn’t know the extent of what happened in Blacking, not yet. And he’s taken several steps back by centering all his focus on finding Dirk - Dirk who has always seemed so optimistic and enthusiastic - to “fix” things (because he hasn’t learned his lesson about fixing things yet). And he doesn’t know how to reconcile the Dirk he knew before with the things that this new stint in Blackwing has changed about Dirk.

I don’t think Todd is malicious or not caring about Dirk - I think he has done so much self isolation over the years that he is unused to knowing how to identify what’s going on with other people/doesn’t know how to handle things. He does try to uplift Dirk, even if he doesn’t always do it in the right way, but that doesn’t make him cruel or manipulative. It makes him a human person who is also struggling to learn how to exist in community with others.

I think there’s also something to be said for the black and white ways we can view fictional characters who react to situations in ways that create defensiveness in us based on our own experiences/our own traumas. I think processing that through fiction is such a powerful tool but it can also put blinders on us and view some characters as wholly good “perfect cinnamon rolls” and other characters as “horrible manipulators”, when really, both types of characters have strengths and flaws, and neither exists purely on one end of the spectrum or the other.

tl;dr redemption arcs can and should be messy sometimes because people are messy. none of these characters are inherently good or inherently bad and i think that's what makes them all such compelling characters.

#dghda meta #?? #is this meta? i don't know i've never written meta before #i'm not one of the smart meta writing fandom members lmao i'm just a guy with a lot of feelings #i'm hobbs if he wasn't a cop #dghda #todd brotzman #dirk gently #this is missing some context of specific posts from other server members that i was referring to / addressing but i made some edits for tha

[dekusheroacademia]

Deku vs Kacchan part 2 as a trial by combat

My main life passion is King Arthur and medieval literature, so when I read Deku vs Kacchan part 2 it was clear to me that this was a trial by combat resolution. I have noticed a couple of comments here and there, of people who seem to not understand the point of Deku vs Kacchan part 2 at all, or even what it meant for Bakugou's character, so I thought I would write the summary of what I could get from it, and the most likely (in my opinion) explanation of what the whole thing means.

This is just from Bakugou's side, given that Deku's side of those chapters are a bit more complicated (he is confused as he never knew what was going on in Bakugou's anger filled head).

First of all, what is a trial by combat?

It was simple a trial, a way to demonstrate something (who is right and who is wrong) by combat. There is a A side, and a B side, and two fighters, each representing one of these two sides. Whoever win demonstrates that their side is correct.

Usually this was for something unrelated to fighting ability. Ex. Did my wife cheat and slept with you? (classic Lancelot and Guinevere situation), Lancelot says nope, and he wins, so nope it is.

In Deku vs Kacchan part 2 we have something more attached to the "strength" of the characters, so a combat to get the right answers make a little more sense.

Now, what are the two points, and what is the question?

Bakugou's question is "Which one of us has the correct way to admire All Might?" and the two sides are:

A) Bakugou's side: focusing on dominance/strength, winning over saving

B) Deku's side: empathy, kindness, focusing on saving

They both admire All Might but in two different ways. For Bakugou these two ways are not compatible, impossible to co-exist, only one of them is correct. In a trial by combat, if Deku wins, then (B) is correct, if Bakugou wins then (A) is correct.

The problem here, is that Bakugou has more information that can suggest to him a possible answer. In particular, we know that Bakugou's way of admiring All Might had led him to a bunch of negative consequences: being saved by Deku, being not chosen as successor, failing the first combat against Deku, failing the license exam, getting kidnapped, having to be saved again. And of course, being the cause of All Might's retirement. So he feels guilty, and he already can sum up that his way (A) of admiring All Might... surely cannot be correct, because look at what led him to.

I think this is why Bakugou wants to use this trial by combat to demonstrate to himself that he is correct in his guilt, he was the one being wrong, and this is why we see him surprised or even mad at having won:

Because now he has these two conflicting points:

Trial by combat says he won, he is correct

Actual life consequences say he is not correct

So now that Deku lost, what does this mean? I think this conflicting answers can only be resolved in completely nullifying Bakugou's way of seeing the world. He can only accept that this is not a correct way of identifying an answer, that winning and force are not the only way to go, but also their two modes are not as incompatible as he thought, maybe not ALL of his mode of admiration was incorrect.

This also reminds me of Javert from Les Miserables, someone who also saw everything in black and white, and that had to face the crumbling of "black/white incompatibiliry" of different ways of seeing people and the world (sadly, it did not end well for him).

#bakudeku #deku vs kacchan #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #bkdk #meta

[archivomeow]

yelena belova is aroace.

Yelena Belova is canonically aroace.

Lately people dismissing that has been getting on my nerves VERY much, so I’m making this post lol.

First the terminology:

Aromantic — an individual who doesn’t experience romantic attraction.

Asexual — an individual that doesn’t experience sexual attraction.

AroSpec — spectrum that includes different aromantic identities, from aros who don’t feel romantic attraction to those who do under certain circumstances or rarely.

AceSpec — spectrum that includes different asexual identities, from aces who don’t feel sexual attraction to those who do under certain circumstances or rarely.

So first thing i will put here is this;

This in my humble opinion should be enough of a proof, but apparently it is not.

First this part of an interview, the person speaking is a creator/co-creator of Yelena. She says she is most likely to identify as asexual than to follow Nat’s romantic path. Hinting at both aro & ace.

So in the comics Yelena shows no interest dating, as far as i am aware she has no romantic interest in the comics. She is repulsed by sex, she calls herself „nothing” referring to her sexual identity.

As much as many like to say she is a lesbian, she is not, how fucking stupid you sound, honestly. She says it herself, if I said I’m not a lesbian, would you question it? No? Then don’t question her, she says she is not a lesbian, she has no wlw storyline. Drop the fucking lesbian hc.

Some possible foreshadowing in the MCU

1. When she is talking with a widow and a former Ana (show: Hawkeye), there is a line said by the widow accompanying her: „…you and Natasha can be reunited again and live your sex in the city fantasy”.

^ Yelena leaves the room, as soon as the word „sex” is mentioned her face drops, then we have this scene where she’s looking at herself in the mirror.

2. When talking about kids and family (movie: Black Widow) she mentions she wants a dog.

3. When describing „fake story” of her life she made up because her birth certificate was burnt she says Natasha has a husband and talks about her parents, but mentions nothing about her husband or possible spouses or children. (movie: Black Widow)

4. Yelena tends to wear a lot of aro/ace flag colors.

green coat & purple lipstick (green = aro | purple = ace)

yellow & blue colors = aroace flag

Overall Yelena wears a lot of green and white and black together, aromantic flag colors.

^^ can you call that „over the top?” yeah sure… let me remind yall something else:

when enid wore this sweather yall went WILD.

but when Yelena is wearing aroace colors all the time it’s called „reaching”…?

I will continue this with even more, because while you can agree with me and say she is aroace, still there will be people who claim she is aroace, agree, but then this fucking argument comes into place:

„AROS CAN DATE”

„ACES CAN FUCK”

„QPRS EXIST”

Do you see what’s wrong with those sentences? Nothing.

There’s a „but” thoooo…

There is nothing wrong with those, but using those arguments to totally ignore her sexuality ship her and treat her like suddenly she is allo is not it.

Yelena has shown no interest in dating or sex, we can assume she is sex-repulsed as she has shows repulsion to sex and she is to me at least implied to be romance-repulsed.

And we’ve found the problem.

Sex Repulsed Aces are as you can imagine repulsed by sex. Romance Repulsed Aros are repulsed by romance… So how is someone repulsed by said things engaging in said interaction and is not repulsed by them???

I think it’s a great idea to write her into said situations to show she is repulsed and to show it’s okay, because her life, my life, the lives of other uninterested in such thing aro/ace, our lives don’t end here.

Using how some people navigate through their sexuality to justify this is wrong.

You wouldn’t write a lesbian with a man, because bi lesbians exist and she may be a bi lesbian, right?

^ just an fyi, that’s an example, the term bi-lesbian is extremely harmful to both bisexuals and lesbians. check out this for more.

The QPR dilemma is that you don’t understand what a QPR is… it’s not more than friends…it’s not in the middle, it’s out of the regular binary of relationships. Relationships I actually think are QPRs:

Friends with benefits — purely platonic, but you fuck.

Situationship — just friends that do romantic stuff together, unless you call it a romantic relationship, with the other person agreeing on that, it is not one.

QPRs are amazing and beautiful, but it’s not always about fucking and kissing and „acting like a couple” but being a QPR. It can be being friends and living together, not temporary. It can be being friends and co-parenting. It can be many things.

But as I said Yelena is repulsed, why would someone repulsed by sex/romance engage in said thing happily with no doubts, fears, negative feelings just because it’s a qpr, so it’s suddenly fine…?

This is for now all I have to say about this.

As an AroAce, who desires no romantic relationship or a sexual one please please please let us have this representation, for once in our fucking lives.

MORE OF MY POSTS ON YELENA BEING AROACE AND ARO/ACE LINKS LINKED HERE:

answering an anon-ask.

more talk about the comic panel.

harmful aro stereotypes.

shipping aroaces + yelena belova.

#yelena belova #florence pugh #aroace #aro #ace #asexual yelena belova #mcu yelena belova #yelena belova aroace #comic yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova fanfic #yelena belova imagine #bishova #katelena #buckylena #yucky #bucky barnes x yelena belova #kate bishop x yelena belova #lesbian yelena belova #bisexual yelena belova #fuck aphobia #fuck aphobes #aromantic #asexual #aromantic rants #aromantic representation #aromantic positivity #sex repulsed #romance repulsed #asexual representation

[goldsrc-hl1]

RWBY Writing Analysis Number One - Roman Torchwick's death and why it's so good

Hello all.

Roman Torchwick, the glorious bastard of RWBY, is by far my favorite villain in the entire show.

A smooth talking criminal with a sense of humor, a perfect foil to Ruby, and a character who's impact lasts all the way to the present volume. He's got humor, consistent writing, and one hell of a sense of style.

But one thing I've seen many people complain about is his death scene. Many have claimed that it's unsatisfying. I disagree wholeheartedly, as there is a LOT of nuance and messaging behind the way Roman Torchwick dies.

Let's talk about it!

Roman's motivation

First thing's first, let's establish Roman's modus operandi. We can identify his main goal and his motive from a few lines in Volume 3 Episode 11, Heroes and Monsters.

Roman: You're asking the wrong questions, Red! It's not what I have to gain, it's that I can't afford to lose!

Roman: I may be a gambling man, but even I know that there are some bets you just don't take.

Roman: Like it or not, the people that hired me are going to change the world! You can't stop 'em, I can't stop 'em!

Roman: You know the old saying, "If you can't beat 'em-"

He gets cut off, but the "old saying" he's referring to is "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em"

Roman's goal is to survive. He'll do whatever it takes to survive, no matter how morally black. Nothing is off limits as long as it keeps him alive.

The writers want to prove his modus operandi / philosophy (being that he'll do whatever it takes to survive) wrong.

Roman's death

Throughout the first 3 volumes of RWBY, Roman aids Cinder Fall in her plan to take down Beacon Academy. This involves hijacking an Atlesian airship and shooting down two other airships, the whole train bomb stuff at the end of Volume 2, providing the White Fang with Atlesian military technology, and stealing dust en masse.

Ultimately, it's him working with Cinder Fall that gets him killed. He helps Cinder with her plan, helps her wreak havoc in Vale all in the name of survival, and how does it end up for him? He is killed by the very Grimm that Cinder herself had unleashed on Vale.

He did everything it took to survive, no matter the cost, and it ended up getting him killed. All that talk about "if you can't beat them, join them" ended up being the very thing that gets him killed. It's ironic, really, and it proves his philosophy wrong.

The Real World

Another facet of Roman's final moments is his last monologue to Ruby.

Roman: You got spirit, Red. But this is the real world!

Roman: The real world is cold!

Roman: The real world doesn't care about spirit!

Roman: You wanna be a hero!? Then play the part and die like every other Huntsman in history!

Roman: As for me, I'll do what I do best: lie, steal, cheat, and SURVIVE!

Although the writers wanted to prove his philosophy of doing whatever it takes to survive wrong, they want to prove him right in this respect - the real world is cold, and the real world doesn't care about spirit.

Despite what he says about spirit, he also has spirit himself. That spirit isn't spent on making the world a better place, however, it's spent on his own survival. And, despite all that effort to survive, he dies a pitiful death at the hands of the very Grimm he helped unleash on Vale.

The world didn't give him a satisfying death. The real world doesn't care that he's a major villain. The real world is cold, and doesn't care about spirit. Roman's death proves him right.

However, that shouldn't stop you from doing the right thing. Roman knows the world is cold, and doesn't care about it. He only cares about himself and Neo's survival.

Ruby, on the other hand, learns that the real world is cold after the Fall of Beacon, in no small part due to Roman Torchwick. However, unlike Roman, she doesn't let this stop her from still doing the right thing.

"that's why we're here, to make it better"

So yeah. To all who say Roman's death is unsatisfying, take a read.

#rwby writing is actually pretty damn good #rwby analysis #rwby #anti rwde #roman torchwick #ruby rose #writing analysis

[journeysendinlovers]

One of the defining things about my continuing to identify with latine is not because it completes any question for me. My square was solved as a kalinago when I first heard someone say "garinagu" in reference to ancestors that weren't mine but were definitely if not in the same family tree, the fruit walk the same yard and that whole yard has Black soil. It is not for me. I am good.

It's for the AFROlatines who cannot clarify further because colonialism has stolen so many branches of your tree you wonder if you are waiting for it to die until it flowers again

It is for the MIXED latines whose own tree has grafts and dead ends and bits they barely like looking at or talking about but at the end of the day "mi gente son latine" and keep it pushing

It is for QUEER latines to use when we discuss the layers of our relationship to gender and sexuality and personhood and violence because so often we are walking between trees picking up YOUR branches and trying to show you that they are still parts of all these trees.

And you see I just made 3 separate and distinct arguments for the continued use of Latine/Latinx for a wide group of us, who don't need to have very much in common to have a reason to use it. And I didn't have to mention white latines specifically, and I will only mention them NOW. If you do not get why I used the analogy of an orchard with Black soil, and reemphasize that the barely alive are often fighting to preserve the memories of long dead? Then you will never understand why latine means so much to the rest of us or why you need it too.

#latinoamérica #latine #latinx #afrolatine #tag the worldwide latine belt I'm literally talking to all of us

[sweetflanfiction]

Second Chances - Part 9

Universe: Read Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur x reader

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about 1899 is from google, so inacuracies will be plenty. The reader is on the older side, and identifies as a female. We're gonna meet a lot of people in this chapter, if you find something that can be done in a better way let me know!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

• ··········· • ············ •

They planned to get the cattle and go to the owner's farm. It was a simple four-day plan, but Arthur was jumpy. He knew how easily a simple plan could derail, specially with the help of some ill-intentioned fellers, that he knew lurked around the transport routes.

They left early one morning. Albert walking into his daughter's room, whispering something to her before leaving. Arthur heard you quietly mumbling something in your sleep. After grabbing the horses, they met with the others at, what he assumed was, the end of Captain's Corner. 

Four people sat on horses, talking friendly. Arthur's mind reminisced back to a time where he was part of something like that. As they approached the people on the horses came into better view and Albert shouted at them. The older man was greeted with a slap on the arm and wide smiles.

Doc Brant sat on top of a white horse, which Arthur found ironic. His pale skin was a little red from the already warm temperature. He was sitting straight in his hat, small round glasses on his face and a tanned hat decorated with dry wheat. Arthur hid a smile when he saw the small bee embroidered on his vest. He remembered when you told him Mrs. Brant wanted to start a honey or beekeeping business of sorts.

The two Everstons seemed to be copies of each other. The only difference was the fine lines on Bernard's sepia brown face. His son, Jeremiah, and him sat on top of two tanned horses, both bidding Arthur hello with a smile and tipping their hats.

Another man sat there, listening with a shadow of a smile in his face, which turned blank when Arthur approached. His hair was silky black, long, woven back into a braid. It had a bead string intertwined with it and a single feather at the end of the braid. He nodded at Arthur but distrust was evident. Arthur understood the wariness and didn't mention it. His horse was gray and spotted and he introduced himself as Blue Hawk.

Albert was riding Bread, a horse that was the color of bread, only becoming black at the bottom of his legs.

And Arthur was riding Gray, the horse he had taken to find Houdini. Although the stallion was getting less agitated and hadn't run away yet, he still needed to keep it slow and steady.

With introductions out of the way, the men rode to begin their mission

• ··········· • ············ •

On the way to the stock train Blue Hawk was quiet, listening to the rest of the group's conversation, much like Arthur had been. However, as time passed the rest of the men started to push them into the jokes and conversations they started. Both relaxed a bit and became more cordial towards each other. Every time any of them complained about something, Blue Hawk and Arthur would joke about living on the road and how the other were living priviledge lifes at their farms. Throughout the whole ordeal Arthur kept a watchful eye on their route, his colorful background becoming a helpful resource when spotting places that bandits could corner them. He was thankful for the quietness that followed the group.

At night he would ask to be the first to keep watch. He'd make wide circles around the small camp the men set up, eyes and ears open to any suspicious movement.

He did notice that the men weren't exactly nonchalant about their surroundings or the dangers of their trek. Both Albert and Brant had a rifle each on their saddle and would always be at the front or back of the convoy. The Everstons herded the cattle to stop them from wandering too much. Arthur was impressed by how easy they made it look. It was an art form, how they zigzagged around the big animals shouting at them and reminding them to stay within the imaginary boundaries.

That left Arthur and Blue Hawk to guard the side lines. They would ride together for a while, chatting about the land and the cattle. Whenever Jeremiah or Bernard needed space, they would break apart.

After four days of riding, camping and camaraderie Arthur felt more like himself. These people were pleasantly pleasant. They would bicker back and forth, and disagree on some subjects, and obviously everyone had their flaws. However, in general, Arthur realized, these people, they were good through and through.

All those times people kept telling him 'you are a good man Arthur.' , it only felt like a surface level praise. He knew he wasn't good, he had killed more people than he had saved and some of them, he would do it again. Good people, if they kill, they regretted it. So he concluded that he was fine. He was nice at the best. 

But now, seeing the way these 5 people worked, hell, seeing the way everyone he had met after his resurrection, as you like to put it, worked and dealt with each other, he felt like he needed to step up.

His past is in the past and maybe all of this was a second chance.

• ··········· • ············ •

The group ended their journey riding through Captain's Corner's southern gate. The moon was already high in the sky. As Blue Hawk and Jeremiah cracked jokes about Albert's back pain, something was heard. Right at the end of Miss Renoir's land. A child's squeal and then, silence. Arthur squared his shoulders and looked alert for 10 seconds until Bernard laugh.

"Seems like your place is the place to be Albert." He joked and Albert chuckled.

"Seems so." He looked at Arthur, who now had a confused look on his face. "All the roads lead to my house whenever we leave for more than one evening." He gave out an exaggerated sigh.

"Well, at least there will be dinner on the fire." Brant added and Arthur noticed the smell of roasted meat.

"Father probably gifted them a boar." Blue Hawk nodded smiling. "When I left they were preparing to go hunting. There were some boars in the forest trying to get at our crops." 

"We can try and get some chicken wire around the crops. I saw Mr. Thompson do it the other day." Jeremiah pipped in, receiving nods all around.

"I think that'd be a good idea." Albert replied in a rough voice. “If there is one thing that man knows, it's how to protect what’s his.”

The group kept their horses walking forward at a leisurely pace, until they got to the open gate of Graham's ranch. The closer they were, the more distinct the voices and noises were. And it was a strange, unfamiliar cacophony of laughter, squeals and a mooing cow?

When the front of the house came into view, he could see two small campfires nestled between the house, the stables and the barn. He could also see a couple of shadowy figures moving.

“Papa!” A squeaky scream came from the fire and he saw a small child, about the same age as Jack was, running towards the horses.

Everston senior jumped off his horse and knelt on the ground, waiting for the kid to come to him. She jumped into his arms and he faked a gasp.

“And pray tell, why is a fine young lady like yourself staying up at this time of the night?” He grabbed her small waist and placed her on top of his horse.

“Momma said I could. Just today, she said.” She answered matter of factly and Everston nodded.

"Right, of course. I take it your other brothers and sisters are up as well."

"Well, Georgie is sleeping but Grace is up." She grabbed the reins.

"If Georgie wasn't sleeping we would hear him right about now." Jeremiah joked and the little girl looked at him, her face scrunched with annoyance.

"He's a baby! Momma said it's the only way he knows how to talk!" 

Arthur chuckled at the girl, dressed in a striped yellow dress and brown boots, hands on the reins, shaking her head at her brother's comment.

They came closer and Arthur observed the event in front of him.

One of the campfires, the bigger one, was almost extinct. The roasted boar secured to a branch, already cooked. The other fire was more vibrant, the flames having been fed recently. That one was surrounded by an assortment of chairs, some of which he recognized from the kitchen. He also recognized the guitar from the office, plates, glasses, some books, and some children's toys.

Two women were sitting next to the more vibrant campfire, with the two family dogs at their feet. Both had buns on their heads, but one was curvier and smaller than the other. That was Mrs Brant. He could see the small glasses she wore reflecting the orange glow when they turned to look at them. The other seemed the same age as Albert, and Arthur assumed it was Mrs. Renoir.

A young woman walked towards them waving her hand. She was dressed in loose pants and a simple shirt. However, instead of suspenders she had a baby cradled in a bright green fabric sling that wrapped around her torso. He deduced that this was Mrs. Everston.

Something stirred in him when he saw the delicate head of jet black curly hair neatly tucked into the sling. It’s been a while since he actually saw a baby, and even longer since he witnessed a baby sleeping so peacefully as that little one was.

His eyes shifted to the horse pen where Miss Graham was slowly spinning around in circles in it, holding Dusk by the reins. On top of the horse were two other kids, and he remembered Albert saying that the Everstons had a few kids. Both of them were awake, although one of them, the younger, seemed to sway more than the other. 

He looked at you and saw your head turn to the horses that had just arrived. You smiled and helped the children from the top of the big horse with the help of the fence around them. The younger kid clung to you as you tried to put him down and you held him as you walked towards the horses.

Before Arthur could dismount Albert called him closer to him. The younger man tilted the horse in his direction. Albert grabbed something from inside his jacket and gave it to him. It was a thin wad of money.

“It ain’t much, but we divided it in equal parts and that’s yours.” He nodded and Arthur just looked at the money.

“I don’t feel comfortable accepting it.” He said honestly. “You’ve given me enough as it is.”

“Nonsense. You did your job, you deserve to be paid. Take it. Go buy yourself a new pair of pants. Maybe a couple of shirts.” Albert chuckled at him. “Lord knows my daughter is talented at a lot of things, but sewing ain’t one of them.”

Arthur reluctantly put the money in his jacket's inner pocket.

The duo trotted their horses to the stable, taking Dusk with them, while the others gathered around the campfire. Once the horses were safely in their boxes, they joined them.

• ··········· • ············ •

@photo1030 :: @sylum :: @marislittlereadingcorner :: @rratman :: @clevergirl74 :: @aureolinb

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction

[peachiseas]

okay i am very new here, so i need a through introduction to your mcs! like eve for example, pls post his whole biography o(╥﹏╥)o

fr tho, tell me anything and everything :D

TOOK SO DAMN LONG SINCE I WANTED TO DRAW A STEP ONE REF OF EVE BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A MINUTE so here are the sketches,,, Anyways- gonna introduce the main two mcs/ocs you'll see here: Eve Cortez Williams and Aaliyah Dubious

(dont mind my ipad scribbles on the screenshot iofqiowogi) Lemme put this under a readmore actually so yall dont get slammed with a long ass post:

Starting with Eve:

He's my Tamarack MC, but I figured since uh. all my art that was a given

He has a strained relationship with Qiu in step 1 but they become besties by step 2 and by step 3, they are like family to each other. If no one got Eve, Eve knows Qiu got them, amen ����

He comes out as transmasc by step 2, and by step 3 he gets top surgery and starts taking testosterone and firmly identifies as a butch lesbian

He's from the southern part of Miami, Florida. He's Golden Grove's residential florida man

He practices martial arts religiously, he's a big fan of Goku and Dragonball in general so he wants to be like his idol

His story deviates a bit from the OL2 generic mc story, he did have a dad! Opal and his dad wanted a kid but they both didn't want to get married and since the two of them were best friends, they decided to have a kid together (or well two but we'll talk about that later)

What's important to note from above is that his dad isn't around anymore because his father passed away a few months ago due to a car accident and Eve was hospitalized as a result

So by the time he's at Golden Grove, he's in anger stages of his grief and he doesn't want to be bothered. Which sucks cause hes neighbors with the two loudest kids on the block

Doesn't help he's a ESL speaker (English as a Second Language) and Golden Grove's population is majorly white so he has even harder of a time adjusting to it

He gets into fights in step 1... a Lot. Someone will look at him funny and they'll get punched in the face

He does adjust but he still doesn't like Golden Grove by step 3 but funnily enough, he moves away at the end of step 3 for treatment but moves back in step 4, crazy how that shit works huh

He has two emotional support bunnies; Bulma and Chi-Chi! He gets them in step 2, Qiu and Eve bond over them LMFAO

As for Aaliyah:

She's my Qiu MC, to the shocker of no one. Tamarack is also her best friend <3

Aaliyah is from New Orleans, Louisiana! She's full blooded Haitian and she has family in Haiti

She's also transfem! She passes for cis in step 1 thanks to hormone blockers and some makeup and then starts taking estrogen in step 2 and onwards

Her being black and transfemme is integral to her character and how she navigates around Golden Grove, she doesn't tell anyone she's trans until near the end of step 1. By step 3, the girl gang and Qiu knows shes trans

^^ That's because she had a very negative experience coming out to her community who previously loved her but flipped on her just as fast

So moving to Golden Grove was supposed to be a fresh start for her as herself but by that point she feels like she has to keep up her "cis-sona" lest she gets bullied again

She still gets bullied for other reasons in step 2 though (being a pretty black girl and the one person who has a crush on her is the most popular kid in school... its rough! 😭)

By step 4 though she is proud to call herself trans and will let people know!

She lovessss animals! And the animals love her back! She feeds them all the time and keeps animal food on her for that purpose when she goes to the park to read by herself, she got a flock of crows and stray cats that like to follow her

She has a cat named Kiki!!! Kiki loves everyone except Qiu though, Aaliyah doesnt know that though-

I hope that was enough of a info-dump! If anyone has anymore questions please ask i have so much lore please-

#candy girl answers #our life 2 #our life: now and forever #our life mc #aaliyah dubois #eve cortez williams