#Being colonized a second time is awful as hell

[teenageengineernight-blog]

How reading Anna Karenina gaves me a Linguistic Existential Crisis Part. I

Since "We Have To Talk About Kevin" is a difficult read and I’d probably finish that book by the end of the year, I thought YouTube could help me gather information for my next read, and that’s when the worst thing ever happened. Aaron Taylor Johnson as Count Vronsky was brought to my FYP, and Keira Knightley infested my FYP with the most well-fitting edits of Young and Beautiful, Sad Girl, Million Dollar Man and Born to Die. I am a simple woman, and I was going through other people status on Instagram and I though that beautiful hand scene in Chloe Lukasiak’s status was everything I needed to start watching the movie. Joe Wright made an absolutely beautiful and engaging movie, that closed my 2024, and since I happened to have the book on my bookshelf, I decided I’d give it a try to Tolstói, another mistake I made.

4% into the book, I knew Anna Karenina was an absolutely beautiful written masterpiece who makes me realized how much I’ve abandoned my mother tongue. I’ve been raised all my life with Spanish as my first language, everything I used to read was in the language of my colonizers, and suddenly I fell in love with ChanBaek, and needed more quality fanfics (PWP, actually) and ended up losing the grasp of reality because at the old age of 23, I suddenly noticed I’ve been colonized a second time when I couldn’t grasp the meaning of the sentences in Spanish, and I have to open an eBook English edition to actually understand what was being said. I’m just 4% into the book, and I realized I can speak Spanish, but I am not able to understand it anymore. I felt disheartened, because on my journey of trying to perfectionate my English I lost my roots.

I couldn’t believe what was happening to me, because how the fuck could you lose your mother tongue when you speak it every day? And here comes the problem: I don’t like to talk, better yet, I don’t like to speak on a daily basis. I could be one of those girls who could pulled out a selective mutism phase, because I have a lot of things to speak about but at the same time I’m not interested to say it all. So I would rather not speak.

And my flawless vocabulary was ruined thanks to the Pandemic, because I was at home all the time, and my vocabulary was reduced to the most B2 level. I can communicate in Spanish but my C1/C2 Vocab was lost in the battle and replaced by slang thanks to TikTok, but not the cool slang, if not the worst kind, which is terrible. I can’t fucking read on my own language because I can’t grasp meaning, words are string together and formed sentences that are not coherent to my brain. EVEN WORST, I have an advance Spanish Vocabulary because I used to read National Geographic Magazines because I love them, and watch their documentaries because they were relaxing, and read very centric books written by Spanish Speaking Writers because they were cheaper than English speaking writers, but Pandemic happened, and they stopped selling the physical copies and I wasn’t very good at the internet downloading's thing for a while. And the class that could have helped my case, was just one day a week and because it was online, I would listen to my professor spoke while reading a fanfiction on the side. Now, I’m far behind on my native language situation because I made English my whole world.

The music I listen is in English, the reality shows I watch are in English, my thoughts are in English and I read the The New Yorker and listen to my Documentaries in English. English is so ingrained on my brain that I can’t comprehend my own grammar. Much worse than that, I need to study French in English because I can’t comprehend Grammar terms or explanation in Spanish, at least that it’s a very specific case. Reading Anna Karenina made me want to switch major to a focus on Spanish, and now, I decided 2025 would be the year this whole bullshit stop.

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part III)

Here we are again: Part III, a list dedicated to all the fics that are (unfortunately) not given enough attention for their different achievements.

Loose chronological order below~

@pilotinthestars's (Ao3) a green nursery (Ao3)

The convenience store worker said and did nothing but eye him up and down. He supposed most tuxedo-clad men didn’t come into this establishment for the purpose of buying pregnancy tests for the little black dress-clad women they had brought with them.

AU-- Hollywood A.D. Mulder realizes Scully's new symptoms add up to pregnancy. He convinces her to take a test; and both are relieved and delighted that the night ends-- literally-- on a positive note.

@enigmaticdrblockhead's

Mountains Crumble to the Sea

...I’m scared.

God?

//God is a spectator-//

Ah, right, I remember. Is He watching, are You watching, is anyone watching? //He just reads the box scores.// Baseball, I loved- no love, baseball; I’m not dead yet.

But I can’t remember and it hurts. I can’t remember what your voice sounds like, it hurts so much. I can’t remember what anything sounds like. All I can hear, is pounding in my head. Loud and slow, once methodical but now erratic.

What will happen to me after this?

TINH Mulder is relentlessly tortured, thoughts rambling away as his body slowly "dies."

AliveDead

He is nothing but empty pockets. Leaning against the stone building he sits and watches them go by. Moving forward and walking past, they ignore his plight and give only isolation....

His right hand almost seems stiff. Fingers are curved upward to show a gray palm. He begs for whatever they can give. He is never lucky.

AU-- Deadalive Mulder is returned, sick and amnesiac, to wander the streets without knowing where to go.

Darkness (brief)

I feel like I’m falling down to earth and floating up to the heavens at the same time.

I’m tempted to blame someone but I can’t. My training exposed me to this, but like most things I chose to ignore it.

Three Words Mulder has risen from the dead horrified, not awed.

Ascension

He must be weak, either that or they drugged him. His feet drag towards me and his masked face hangs low. He trips on a bump in the carpet and tumbles at my feet. The father kneeling before the son....

The way his body lunges forward every second or two, tells me that he’s out of breath or perhaps he’s in pain. The blanche, plastic mask with small slits fixates on me. It doesn’t stop and he doesn’t struggle. He isn’t shaking or attempting to break free like all the others. He just breaths and watches me. 

Stop it. Stop watching me. Look down. Look away. Don’t watch me in this moment. The moment where I kill you.

AU-- Colonization was thorough and unyielding; and Will, like all other children under the regime, must kill his father to "ascend."

Looking Forward to the Abyss

“People think when you die, you go to heaven or hell. But people never think about what happens if you come back.

“Well, Mrs. Scully…I do. Because I did die, on a case. They killed me, and they foolishly thought to bring me back. They were religious too…although…”

He couldn’t help but smile now. It was a joke and he knew the punchline. How could he not smile.

AU-- Mulder, demonic and unrepentant, recounts the horror he was forced to inflict on Scully... and the unhinged revenge he doled out afterward.

@spookytheory's Fire, But Better

Fox Mulder’s sharp smile strikes across Dana. She ignites, the flames spelling out her new titles: FBI Agent. Spy. Scully. Scully emerges from the fire, brushing the ashes of deference from her shoulder pads.

Pilot Scully is trying to put Daniel Waterston and her past behind her, easing into the newness of being referred to constantly by her "father's" name.

@fabulouspatsystone's

I don't want that anymore

His heart sinks into his entrails and becomes heavy as stone. Who is she talking to and, even more important, what is she saying? The air around him seems to disappear and all he can hear is a distant muffled humming. He feels like he’s under water and everything just rushes by. All he manages is to hold on to the mail he collected with a tight grip.

S1 Mulder overhears and misinterprets Scully's phone call. He fumes, then silently figures it out.

Unnamed

She was gone all day. They hauled her off to Quantico early this morning leaving him with a short message on his answering machine that she will not be in today. She sounded sleepy and a little cranky, probably hadn’t have her coffee yet. And she sounded adorable.

Mulder, bummed after a case, thinks about his love for Scully's smiles, notes, and little quirks and habits.

Unnamed

Mulder’s voice sounded way to chipper for this hour. He pretended and she knew.

Mulder messed up the filing system; and successfully bribes Scully to help him out later.

Something Better

“A curious fella you got there, sweetheart. And very handsome...how do you get anything done?”

“Excuse me?” The surprise about this question made her choke on her last bite.

Even the old lady handing out gingerbread cookies asks why Scully and her young man are investigating Christmas trees instead of enjoying each other's company.

On the Outside

He walks by her apartment. Not by accident or by chance, but on purpose. He's never been in there but he's been here on this side of her street looking up. It is usually dark, no sign of life, just glass windows that hide her loneliness behind closed curtains.

Breakup Mulder roams to Scully's, surprised to note how dull and Christmas-less it looks.

@pedalinginhummus's

Happened Before

"Oho, Scully!” He said as he lifted her arm by the elbow towards the ceiling. “Don’t get too comfy as the medical doctor on this team. I think I can give you a run for your money with this,” he said proudly, admiring his work.

Mulder helps Scully bandage her wound; and the two start their tradition of thumb warring after injuries.

Unnamed

With a muffled voice she says “If only you could grow another hand out of your chest,” aching to feel pressure at every angle.

Mulder chuckles. “Kind of like in Alien?"

Post Memento Mori Scully has a headache; and allows Mulder to massage it away.

@blackcoffeeandteardrops’s (Ao3)

XF episode: Die Hand Die Verletzt?

“The human mind can be very persuasive, Scully. There are documented cases of people under hypnosis or otherwise suggestive activities doing things they report they normally wouldn’t do. Things like driving a car four hours away in the dead of night, buying an excessive amount of cheese, and in one case, even getting married,” he said, not missing the way she sighed.

Post Die Hand De Verletzt Scully calls Mulder, nervous about Mrs. Paddock out and about.

I know it’s probably been done before but Three Words for your episode prompt

There’s a silence that settles between them, a solid weight that somehow does not feel heavy. For a few moments, Mulder swears his ears are ringing. “In Oregon,” he replies, leaning in. He furrows his brow, slowly putting the pieces together.

AU-- Three Words Mulder wants space but goes to Scully's apartment with a frog blanket, anyway. He has no memories of his torture; and is thrilled to find out that the baby is his.

Home To Me

“Hi baby,” she said, planting a kiss against his hair. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him close, drinking in the scent of of his No More Tears Shampoo. She tucked the tag of his pajamas back in and carded a hand through his auburn curls, preemptively mourning the day his hair would straighten out. They did the best they could with him, but she knew they couldn’t keep him young forever.

AU-- Mulder, Scully, and Will enjoy life as a family, bedtime stories and Quantico opportunities included.

Better Now (Ao3) 

“I know it sounds odd, Mulder, but considering everything we’ve been through, I’m glad to see us facing something so...normal.”

“Be that as it may,” Mulder replied, setting the bowl of soup in his lap. He held a spoon of broth to his lips, blowing on it before taking a taste.

AU-- Scully catches a cold; and Will brings her purple flowers.

Dulcet (Ao3)

Beside her, William gasped, his eyes honing in on a water gun that had been left on the ground a few feet away. He sprinted to get it and ran right back to Scully, shaking it near his ear, listening for the sound of water sloshing around inside. “Here, mom, it's still got water in it,” he said, his cheeks red and his breathing heavy from the exertion of running. “Get him!”

AU-- Will's 5th birthday: water balloons and Toy Story reruns.

Reprieve

Tucked between the pages of the books was a picture of William and Scully, one he’d taken the day before he left. He knew it was in the book, knew it because every night before he fell asleep, he’d hold the picture and stare at their faces, and he’d hope he’d see them soon. The picture had been a source of comfort before, a talisman that kept him grounded and reminded him why he had to keep fighting, but seeing it again filled him with something kin to sadness mixed with anger. He closed the book as the bus took off, and he stared out the window, trying to convince himself the anger wasn’t at Scully, but rather at the impossible situation they’d been faced with.

AU-- Post William Mulder calls up Skinner for information, tracking down Will just in time to save his son from murderous operatives. Scully panics, angered, at first; but the two eventually reconcile.

Small Steps

 Still, the ice between them had been thawing, especially since they’d returned to the FBI together, but Mulder remained afraid that he’d somehow be overstepping his bounds. He turns to offer something lighthearted instead, but stops, reaching out to grasp her arm & get her to stop walking. “Scully, you’ve got a little something--” he trails off, free hand gesturing up to his own face.

Revival Scully's nose bleeds after she and Mulder conclude a case. He panics, dabbing at it with his tie. Both hope it's just the high altitude.

Mashed Potatoes

“My mother used to make mashed potatoes every year. Some of the other side dishes would change, depending upon what ingredients were available or how many people would be present, but her mashed potatoes stayed the same,” she said, worrying the surface of the coin as she stared off into the distance. She didn’t come to until she felt something pressing against her waist, not realizing at first that William had crossed the room to pull her into a hug.

AU-- My Struggle II William and Scully talk about their individual losses fondly, eventually waking up a recovering Mulder.

Enough For Now

When Scully brought in the flyer advertising for the local county fair, she never expected anything to come of it. She’d laid it on the table with the other junk mail she’d go through whenever she had the time, taking care to save any coupons that might prove useful. But when William sat at the table one night for dinner, he pulled it from the stack, talking about how back in Wyoming they’d go almost every year when he was a kid, and she knew before he even asked that they’d go.

AU-- My Struggle III Mulder, Scully, and William start bonding as a family while visiting the fair: basketball, roller coasters, and pizza.

Keep On Wanting

 Mulder reaches for her seatbelt, unclipping it, and when he gets out to open her door, she lets him lead her inside.

Mulder takes her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door, before doing the same thing with his own, even though it’s still caked with blood. He’ll handle it later, either by having it cleaned or burning it, he’s not sure which. 

Post My Struggle IV Mulder calms a chilled, anxious Scully. Both feel hopeful after a good night's rest.

Livewire (Ao3)

“Who says I need protecting? I was just shot because that creep thought I was you,” Jackson replied, trying but failing to push away from him.

Any other time, that response would’ve pained Mulder more than it did, but he looped an arm around his son’s shoulders and started wading back toward the docks, determined to get them there with or without Jackson’s help.

AU-- Post My Struggle IV Mulder drags Jackson out of the water, refusing to let his son leave before they've all ironed things out.

Commonplace

He couldn’t see her face, but if he could, Mulder was almost certain there would be tears in her eyes. After everything they’d been through in the last year, that fact wouldn’t be a surprise. “I’m just as concerned as you, Scully. The best thing we can do for him now is to work as hard as we possibly can to keep him safe. To protect the best thing that’s ever happened to either of us.”

Post My Struggle IV Mulder and Scully are delighted to have Jackson around, lightly parenting him about bedtime and schooling.

Little By Little

Despite the added inch or two the skates gave her, as Scully caught up to William and he laid a hand on her shoulder, it occurred to her again of how much taller than her he was. “Are you having a good time? If you want to go faster, you don’t have to wait for me or Mulder, you know. Just be careful,” she said, though she secretly hoped he wouldn’t.

Post My Struggle IV Jackson bonds with his parents over ice skating and last names.

Signs of Light

 It wasn’t until several months passed, until they’d begun to creep past the awkwardness that came with getting to know the teenage son whose entire life they’d missed, that she even mentioned the headaches.

It’s nothing, Mulder, I’m fine, Scully had said, pinching the bridge of her nose and fanning her face with a file as they sat outside a warehouse, waiting on a suspect to exit the building. 

AU-- Revival Scully's cancer returns. Mulder refuses to promise to stop searching for a cure; and Jackson slowly starts hanging around, warming up to his parents.

@mchalowitz​’s (Ao3)

fic; un-mulder

It’s so un-Mulder, embellished with white detailing, small pine pones. There’s little gifts attached and a few are just hanging swatches of metallic paper, the clear result of curious fingers in years long past. 

The wreath rustles against the door as it swings open. There’s a bright smile on Mulder’s face. 

Pre-TGTSC Mulder surprises Scully with a Christmas door wreath.

after

Being the believer in the office is exhausting. 

Scully is telling him as much, even giving some actual merit to being one with the unbelievable views, when she notices Mulder is sleeping upright, his head propped up with his hand.

She slides herself to the edge of the couch to push herself up but feels his hand on her arm. 

“I’m awake,” Mulder insists, “I was listening.” 

Post Vienen Scully is glad Mulder is back, even if he is pushing and pulling away from impending parenthood like a pendulum.

34 + 28 msr for the OTP prompt List 💚💚

Remain calm. That’s what all the pregnancy books say.

AU-- S8 Mulder and Scully are horrified over a pregnancy complication.

hack job

Scully’s rarely frantic. The peaceful foil to her overwrought partner. Russians seized their home and she careened over the side of the porch level headed. 

She’s pulling drawers open so hard they’re coming off their tracks. They crash to the floor. She finds a pair of scissors in the third one. They’re not for hair cutting but they’ll have to work. 

Revival Scully gives herself an emergency haircut while Mulder burns critical evidence.

fic; a little snow

She heads down to start the coffee maker and adjust the finicky heater. Every morning she descends those stairs, thinking the man she loves will have returned to her.

Pre-IWTB Scully, though worried for her partner, is heartened a little when Mulder warms up her car and shovels out the driveway.

@lovesicks4pphic's (Ao3) Effective Communication (Ao3)

“Sir, you can’t seriously think this is a good use of our time?”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t think, Mulder. Besides, I know full well the two of you bailed on the last seminar you were supposed to attend.” 

Scully felt Mulder’s eyes dart in her direction. 

AU-- Post Triangle Kersh forces Mulder and Scully to attend a conference, which causes Scully to unduly overthink in anguish. Mulder is clueless; but the two work it out and take their relationship to the next level.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

[beardedmrbean]

I know you didn’t see it, but as someone pointed out with Killmonger. The people who often said “fuck Christopher Columbus and white people!” don’t hate imperialism itself. They hate that their ancestors was on the losing side of the wars centuries ago

As I mentioned before they glamorized the Dahomey kingdom of all things, I saw a person online with a PHD said the Ottomans were good to lived under.

A Hindu mutual of mine said that the left constantly glamorized the Mughals because they are brown. People are even defending the Aztecs now.

Like I saw people say that the left only “protected” the Jews because of the Holocaust. Because when you dive into Hitler and the Nazis the mindsets you notice a lot of similarities

“The Jews/White people are the root of all evil and must be wiped out!”

And I think Jews are getting a wake up call with the I/P conflict as now the left antisemitism is in full force

I mean I saw these as the left said in more privileged than career politicians such as Hillary Clinton because I have a dick. But the second they learn in black, I’m more oppressed than a trailer park kid that was pimp out by their parents

And the decolonization thing, hmm strange that never passed to Arab ethnostates

Oh good, you're still here. I'm happy about that _____________

Aztecs, yikes people raised hell here in CA about some of the lessons that involved learning various Aztec prayers, not sure how far if actually got but I hope it didn't get implemented.

Was a whole thing about connecting the Latino students to part of their heritage and CA history as well dumb for one because the Aztecs never made it up this far and for two, the reason Cortez managed to take them out with 300 Spaniards was because of the 30,000 natives that joined in because they were tired of being used for human sacrifices among other things.

Interesting to see the return of moral relativism

It's their culture and it should be respected even if that means this 73 year old dude that died's 19 year old wife will be placed on his funeral pyre with him and burned alive so they can be together in the afterlife (first time I hears a self proclaimed atheist say something along those lines my head spun, was weird. Still is gotta respect their beliefs provided they are using a western religion because reasons)

Colonization thing, I was originally looking for a map of arab migration into North Africa but this kind of thing kept coming up

Finally ran into one that was just Arab migration and it's the same map, which makes sense, Egypt is still full of Egyptians though which is kinda wild, Iran is split between Persians and Arabs, Persians being the indigenous people in that area.

Like I saw people say that the left only “protected” the Jews because of the Holocaust.

This is one of those things I've put a lot of time and thought into.

Short version of my conclusion is that if they were still a stateless people they would likely be one of the darlings of leftist circles.

At least until they started getting to successful, preformative wokeness would be the modern term I guess.

You're not supposed to actually do well because if you do then we can't use you as a prop to show how awful other people are.

Be why Asians got kicked out of the POC club.

And I think Jews are getting a wake up call with the I/P conflict as now the left antisemitism is in full force

Stephen Fry coming out and saying, you know what, I'm Jewish is a good bit for that, seems to be some of the secular Jewish community, even the one's that don't do anything Jewish at all, well didn't since it would seem a bunch of them are having their eyes opened more than they ever thought they would.

So ya that's a thing too.

Circling back to Egypt, wonder what the hotep contingent thinks about the Arabization of North Africa, they're lunatics regardless but I bet there's some funny stuff going on in the we-wuz circles about that. __________

And again, I'm glad to hear from you especially after your previous ask. Keep pushing through world needs self aware people in it.

[shojo]

Shojo Reviews Movies: RRR

Guys. THIS MOVIE SLAPS HARDER THAN ANYTHING HOLLYWOOD HAS PUT OUT IN THE LAST DECADE. 

It’s a little over three hours long but let me tell you I was disappointed when it was over because it could have went on for five hours and I would have the same opinion. RRR is epic, heartbreaking, stunning, lights that fire inside of you to keep fighting and put those colonizers in their place. I gotta get up in six hours so I’m just gonna write some bullet point thoughts:

- I’ve never seen a movie made and set in a country that has 1. lived through the British Empire and 2. won against it. The pride of India as a nation was practically oozing from every pore of this film. I’ve also never seen a film that villainizes white Europeans in such a harsh and unapologetic way. Every white person had no redeeming qualities whatsoever and boy did it feel good to see each of them get their comeuppance. (Yes, there is Jenny who you could argue is the token “not all white people” character but she wasn’t perfect, she just happened to be just kind enough to be on the right side of things where it mattered.) Comparing this to a film like Django Unchained where you hate Leo DiCaprio’s character but you love to hate him. It’s still Leo. He’s still very charismatic, handsome, despicable, the whole nine. The governor, his wife, his guards, all awful terrible people who you just hate. Period. The pay off at the end is *chef kisses* to say the least. 

- Naatu Naatu has the skill and prowess of any Gene Kelly ballet with the energy of an EDM rave. I need to watch it approximately 12,000 more times because it’s absolutely fantastic. 

- The differences between American and Indian cinema is a road I’ve always wanted to explore and RRR was a hell of an introduction. In America having a full blown musical number in the middle of an epic revolutionary war drama would more than likely be seen as a gimmick and yet it feels so natural here. And I’m not just talking about Naatu Naatu. There were multiple songs explaining the internal struggle these men are going through, resetting the scene, etc. and they didn’t distract me in the slightest. 

- Nick Fury should have called Bheem and Ram to take care of Thanos instead. 

- I still can’t tell what I was more impressed over: the sheer amount of extras, the fight choreography, or those thirty seconds of Ram dressed as Rama jumping out of the flames like the god he is and landing hit after hit with Bheem making Jason Mamoa look like a guppy with that spear just UGH EVERYONE WAS SO GODDAMN COOL. 

Alright I think that’s everything. Go watch RRR. (Fair warning: this movie does contain very high amounts of violence, bloodshed, and racism so don’t go in expecting three hours of cool suspender dancing. This movie is graphic and does not shy away from showing it. That being said, go watch RRR.)

[jraker4]

@brickdykehouse

First off, I think if you repeat 'IOF' just a few more times, it'll start being meaningful and catchy, rather than childish and virtue-signalling. Second, let's be clear on the value you place on Israeli hostages rescued in the first place. They're 'colonizers', right? So...it's not really a question of whether you value them less, it's only a question of 'how much'. Third, it's interesting how you seem to just gloss over the important word in your shouting. TEMPORARY CEASEFIRE. That second word is important here. It's pretty relevant! Unless you think theocratic Hamas would've released Israeli hostages *without* all of its members and especially its leaders being at continual risk of getting killed at a moment's notice. You're free, of course, to think whatever you want about the morality of this war, but to just assume that the TEMPORARY CEASEFIRE just...happened is, well, pretty silly and childish. About as much as 'IOF'. Fourth, those 'negotiations'...how familiar with them are you? Can you name the terms of even one of those negotiations, and when they've been accepted and how well they were adhered to? I suppose it's possible you could, but I'd be surprised. Israel has more it needs to accomplish than just the rescue of all hostages, or retrieval of their remains. Those are *pretty important* objectives for them, your own Holocaust inversion nonsense aside, but they're not *all* of their goals. Another one is to, y'know, stop or at least inhibit another Hamas ceasefire breaking via another massacre of Israelis (and, hey, citizens of various nations of the world, but who gives a shit, right, they were mostly Israelis. Those other people probably shouldn'ta hung around colonizers, amirite?). Hamas has rather conspicuously not promised not to attack like this again, which is even more noteworthy in that Israel (or anyone with sense) would have no reason to believe such a claim. They have, in fact, promised to perpetrate *more* 'resistances' like 10-7. Israel has a rather vested interest in that, too. As for its goal being the eradication of Palestinians...I wonder, is there going to come a point when Israel gets adequate at that awful goal they supposedly have? I don't even say 'good'. To improve they wouldn't even need to get *good* they'd just need to get adequate. Palestinian population has steadily grown ever since 1947, in spite of Israel's massive military and economic advantages, alongside their supposed nonstop intent and enactment of genocide that entire time. Now I imagine if you've managed to read this far without your hair catching on fire, that last paragraph probably pissed you off! And I doubt it'll do much good, but what the hell: pay attention to how specific I was with that paragraph. Nowhere did I say that Israel hasn't killed a shitload of civilians. Nowhere did I suggest they don't have an interest in and has actually taken more land from Palestinians-hell, I can't argue with that. I agree. That last paragraph was entirely about rejecting the notion that Israel is trying to destroy Palestinians as a people, that it's trying to commit genocide. If you reply to this, make sure you ignore that distinction. Finally, you cannot colonize a land to which you're indigenous. You can certainly be a tyrant, a conqueror, a criminal, an oppressor (though the extent to which I think those are true is obviously going to be a lot different than you), but you can't be a colonizer. This also doesn't mean Palestinians aren't indigenous to the region, too. *shrug* Sorry. I know you're using the word for emotional weight and little else. Those other, actually accurate words don't have the zing of 'colonizer', I realize. It's a bummer!

Did not rescue the Israeli hostages:

1) the UN

2) the ICJ

3) NGOs

4) any world government besides Israel, including the countries whose own citizens are hostages

5) the Free Palestine movement

7) college campus encampments

8) keyboard warriors

9) calls for a “ceasefire”

10) anyone who calls themselves an “anti-Zionist”

Did rescue the Israeli hostages:

1) Israel

2) the IDF

Why would we ever listen to anyone in that first category? Listening to them means we die. Ignoring them and rescuing each other means we live. It’s that simple. Don’t you dare moralize at us and lecture us while sentencing us to death. If you’re not going to lift a finger to save us, get the fuck out of our way.

So yes, I support Israel and the IDF, the entities that actually save the lives of Jews - the only entities in the world that do so. And I will never, ever be ashamed of that. And if I became ashamed of that, the world would still let me get kidnapped and leave me to rot for being a Jew, so 🤷‍♀️

[taylorkellyreporting]

i hope no one minds if i liveblog this bitch: black panther: wakanda forever

good lord i’m already sobbing this whole funeral scene is touching my heart

where’s nakia?

the dora are so badass

shuri trying to act like she’s okay when she’s clearly still grieving :(

what the…

“if your muscle brains were present they would still be there choking on their fuzzy adornments” “you bald headed demon” TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE M’BAKU IS SO FUNNY ?!(&48*%#

“m’baku, what would you have us do?” “we should find the fish man and kill him” THE SILENCE AFTER HE SAID THAT FUCK

“so, when are we leaving so i can see my favorite colonizer?” i love shuri so much 😭😭

“you didn’t think to call?” “now why would i have your number?” pls okoye’s so funny

this isn’t at all important to the plot but shuri looks so fucking fine in that purple outfit and those shades leaning up against the car

okoye freaking out about the way she looks 😭😭

not it only taking me a fucking split second to start shipping shuri and riri fkgjvjdn their chemistry goes crazy

“aw shit, am i being recruited?” “no.” riri’s face pls she looked so embarrassed

THIS SHURI, RIRI AND OKOYE SCENE IS SO CHAOTIC I’M CRYING REAL TEARS

“YOU NEED TO BE CONSCIOUS OF THE WAY THAT YOU LOOK, WALKING AROUND HERE WITH ALL THAT ASH ON YOUR HEAD” ?&876$&*#<?£

“you got this!!!” “mm, with your heater” 😭😭

shuri, riri and okoye is a dangerous team up i’m obsessed with how badass they all are

OH SHIT RIRI????

i never wanna hear okoye scream shuri’s name like that ever again my God

DID THEY JUST KILL OKOYE???? WHAT THE FUCK

oh she isn’t dead okay i almost started sobbing

i thought okoye screaming shuri’s name the first time was bad but this time was so. much. worse.

MY GOD I NEVER THOUGHT RAMONDA WAS DIRECTING THAT SPEECH TO OKOYE I FEEL SICK

that scene broke my heart

NAKIA 🫶🏻

“it’s been six years since you left us” does that mean her and t’challa didn’t stay together after the first movie? cause i assumed they had gotten married. also her not going to the funeral explains why shuri kept ignoring her phone calls

“princess leia, belle from beauty and the beast, that white shit” 😭😭

whew that backstory was intense

“or you can wear a suit :D” lmao??

aside from the fact that namor literally kidnapped shuri, he’s a grown ass man who looks old enough to be her dad why would anyone ship them…

“he suffered in silence” God, i am not your strongest soldier

i’m sorry but namor is insane like he really thinks killing everyone’s gonna solve his problem? be calm.

“you said you wanted to burn the world, let us burn it together” uh i think the fuck not you trick ass bitch

“riri williams is a child prodigy who was running circles around all of her professors” tony stark’s daughter🫂

i don’t know who namor thinks he’s talking to like that??? if he don’t back tf up from ramonda

“the spy saves wakanda once again. the queen will reward her with lifetime banishment, i’m sure” m’baku is such an asshole skdjgjvjcns

“he was king and black panther to everyone. but to me…he was everything. my t’challa.”

WHAT THE SHIT

“you just hung up the queen.” “i just hung up on my mom. there’s a difference.” 😭

m’baku lifting up that person and throwing them around like a rag doll shouldn’t have been so hot

if m’baku dies…🔪

wakanda’s the most powerful country in the world and they’re being taken down by fucking fish?

FUCK NAMOR AND FUCK THE WRITERS THIS IS SO SICK

they’ve taken everything from shuri man what the hell

how can you kill off angela bassett…

“so now you have to hear from a child who scoffs at tradition” love this callback, hate the circumstance.

“i just buried the last person who truly knew me. my heart was buried with her” MOTHERFUCKER

seems like the writers decided that for the final part of this movie they’d just make everybody cry

shuri’s gonna put on that suit and it’s gonna break me for real

“so who taught you how to do all that you know?” “my big brother” GOD

is that motherfucking killmonger?!

not them making me laugh while simultaneously making me cry my eyes out

“can i get some of that, too?” 😭😭

shuri in the suit 🥹 t’challa would be so proud ☹️

“it is not what she would have wanted for you. it is not what i want” what if i cry????

“her dreams. her hopes for me…it doesn’t exist. it doesn’t matter.” my eyes are gonna be swollen by the end of this movie good lord

the way m’baku was looking at shuri after her outburst ☹️

“it will consume you.” “it already has.” this is not what i wanted for shuri i’m devastated.

“for the queen”

“that’s can’t be good.” you think?

OH MY GOD

they lost so many people ☹️

shuri fixing riri’s car oh they’re girlfriends

i’ve had enough of namor

“colonizer in chains…now i have seen everything” LMFAOOO I LOVE OKOYE SO MUCH

my God this moment of silence for t’challa/chadwick with these scenes of him…i’m a wreck. he’s so so missed.

HE HAS A SON OH MY GOD I’M SOBBING

no cause in bp 1 king t’chaka said “a man who has not prepared his children for his own death has failed as a father.” and nakia just said “your father, your baba, prepared us for his death, didn’t he?” i am a mess. t’challa was such a good man.

he’s so precious 🥹

“my name is prince t’challa, son of king t’challa”

this movie was such a beautiful tribute to chadwick and i absolutely love it 🫶🏻

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Secrets // D.M.

Request: CONGRATS BOO!!! Could I get a Secret relationship with Fluff 4 for Draco Malfoy pretty please at Hogwarts??? Also I was wondering if it could be with a Hufflepuff reader? (I love Hufflepuff x Slytherin pairings) THANKS AGAIN FOR DOING THIS BOO AND CONGRATS 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛 - @herstory-study

Fluff 4: “Is that my shirt?”

A/N: The first of my blurb celebrations!! Thank you, lovely!! I hope you enjoy!! It could be argued that I got carried away but there’s a large chance I could end up writing full fics for each request 😂 Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Warnings: secret relationships, some kissing, some feelings, a whole lotta fluff, a cheesy ending and an abuse of commas and semi-colons

Word count: 2.7k

There were some aspects to History of Magic that could be classed as interesting; the witch-hunts of Salem, for example or even the brief study dedicated to the founders of the very school you sit in. However, there was nothing remotely interesting about hearing the tale of the Goblin wars for the sixth year in a row.

You tap the feather of your quill to your cheek; jotting down a sentence every now and then to make it look as if you are paying the strictest attention to whatever Professor Binns happens to be mumbling about in that particular moment. You fade in and out of daydreams; letting your mind wander back to two nights ago when Draco had snuck you back into the Hufflepuff common room – stopping every few so often to draw you into another laughter-filled kiss.

You startle when a piece of parchment falls onto your desk. Folded like a paper crane, you only knew who this could be from. A sly glance over the blonde-haired teenager who’s attention is most definitely on the pacing of Binn’s ghost confirms your suspicions.

You delicately unfold the piece of parchment; smiling to yourself as begin to read Draco’s elegant scrawl: “Meet me at the Room of Requirement? 7:30pm?”

Anticipation curls in your gut like a ball.

A brief glance is all it takes for you to confirm. A brief glance in your direction from Draco; a subtle nod from you and your plans for the evening have been wiped clear and replaced entirely with Draco.

The bell rings. You stand, gathering your things together and placing them in your bag. A slight brush to your side is the only contact with the Slytherin you’ve found yourself head over heels for. A slight brush to your side and it feels like every inch of you is on fire; a reaction that only Draco has the power to elicit from you.  

The day passes by slowly now that you have something to look forward to. A day where short moments are stolen behind tapestries or on less traversed corridors. Five minutes each time between lessons where you can quickly whisper a hello before dragging him into a kiss by his green striped tie.

Keeping your relationship a secret was a mutual decision; the fallout on both sides being something neither of you could be bothered to deal with right now. Instead, you were happier hiding in empty classrooms where you could have your fill of the Slytherin Prince, and he could whisper sweet nothings in your ear without the risk of anyone overhearing.

There were times when it was stressful; when the week had been too long and there had been no time to see one another. It was only then that you questioned the secrecy of your relationship.

But when you came together after a long period apart; everything returned back to normal and a smile found its way back to both your faces.

Your excitement for the evening makes it almost impossible to eat; picking at the food on your plate as you think about finally seeing Draco tonight. From your position at the Hufflepuff table, you have an excellent view of him, and he knows it. All evening, Draco sends you subtle winks and smiles from his seat at the Slytherin table.

You clench your fist; your fingernails biting into the sensitive skin of your palm as you resist the urge to throw yourself across both tables to him. You resist the urge to simply kiss him in front of his housemates.

You resist it all; every single feeling and urge because you know that in a matter of hours, he would be yours for the entire night.

Instead, you send a flirty smile back to the blonde-haired teenager before returning your attention back to your meal.

-----

The Room of Requirement is located on left hand corridor of the Seventh Floor. You knew from how he rushed out of the Great Hall that Draco would beat you to it.

With a large grin on your face, you walk past the section of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy three times. The entire time, thinking of Draco and how you’d like to see him.

On your third walk past, the large, ornate door appears. You don’t hesitate to pull it open and duck inside.

It’s never a different layout; always the same one that Draco imagines. A large, almost cavernous room with a grand fireplace that’s already lit and warming up the room. In front of the fire sits a couch big enough for an entire Quidditch squad but you know from experience that it’s perfect for the two of you to lie down on comfortably. A great bookshelf covers one of the walls; filled to the brim with ancient looking tomes and books, all there ready to read. You’ve taken advantage of such an offer in the past; reading to Draco after a particularly bad day.

Finally, pushed up against the furthest wall is a four poster bed covered in a thick, downy quilt and topped with blankets – both green and yellow to represent both houses. It was the cheesiest section of the room, and you had brought it up to Draco before – teasing him, but he simply shrugged and distracted you from further conversation.

You throw your outer robes on the bed, leaving you in your blouse, tie and skirt.

Draco remains seated on the large couch; his gaze focused on the flickering flames of the growing fire. Your arms snake their way around his shoulders; your hands trailing down his chest as you lean against the back of the couch. Pressing a small kiss just under his earlobe, you whisper, “I missed you today.”

Draco leans his head back, kissing the side of your jaw, “I missed you too.”

Letting go of him, you take a seat on the couch. In times like this, you never stray too far from the blonde-haired teenager, worried about how long it’ll be until you have a night like this again. An arm opens for you; you automatically press yourself into his side, inhaling the familiar scent of cashmere musk and roses. It was heavenly.

“How was your day?” He asks, voice quiet.

“It was boring until a note landed on my desk. Then it started to look up.”

Draco smirks, “How odd. Mine was taking the exact same route until someone responded to my note.”

You shift out of his hold; resting your head on your elbow that’s perched on the back of the couch. Your other hand pushes his hair back; pulling it out his eyes. He’s grown it longer over this year and stopped using so much product; it’s nice, more natural and a lot easier for you to run your hands through.

You open your mouth; trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Draco captures your lips in his. One of his hands settling on the back of your head whilst the other pulls you across his lap to straddle him. You smile into the kiss as your hands brace themselves on the back of the couch.

Breaking the kiss, you ask, “What was that for?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. I just missed you.”

“You’re missing me an awful lot.”

He kisses the underside of your jaw, “Can you blame me?”

You hum, “I don’t think I can. I’m missing you more too.”

“Then let’s not miss each other anymore,” Draco murmurs against your skin. Lifting his head just enough, he draws you in for another kiss effectively ending all conversation for the night.

-----------

You wake up tangled in the sheets of the four poster bed; Draco’s arm heavy across your waist.

As your eyes get used to the brightness of the room, they focus in on the clock on the beside table. Your eyes grow wide as you take in the time.

You’d slept through the lesson of the day already.

You launch yourself out of bed, shrugging off your pyjamas and rustling around to find your uniform.

“Draco!” You shout, pushing your arms through a shirt, “We need to get up, we’ve missed the first hour.”

Draco rolls over, groaning. Fastening your skirt, you kneel on the bed, “Love, we have to get up before the bell.”

He blinks his eyes open, grinning sleepily at you. Your resolve almost breaks then and there; happy to say to hell with it and get back into bed with him.

“I’m free second lesson,” Draco mutters.

You roll your eyes, kissing his lips briefly, “I’ll see you later?”

He nods, stretching his arms above his head, “I’ll see you later.”

Grabbing your outer robes and your bag, you rush from the Room of Requirement, fastening your tie as you bound down the stairs to Transfiguration.

“Where have you been?” is how you’re greeted by Miriam, your close friend and dorm mate.

You shrug, biting your lip knowing that there was no way you could lie yourself out of this.

Miriam narrows her eyes at you, “You never came back to the room after dinner and then you didn’t show up at breakfast. I was seriously worried. Where did you go?”

You look either side of you; checking that there’s no-one listening to your conversation, “Can you keep a secret?”

Miriam rolls her eyes, “Of course I can.”

“I was with Draco Malfoy,” You rush out in a single breath.

Miriam’s eyes widen and she pulls you to one side, “You were with Draco Malfoy? All night?”

You nod your head. Miriam puffs out a breath, “Well I didn’t expect that. How long have you been seeing each other? Tell me everything please!”

You laugh, “It’s almost ten months now, and I’ll tell you more at lunch, I promise.”

Miriam bites her bottom lip; glancing between you and the now open door to Transfiguration, deliberating whether it would be worth skiving the entire day to hear about your exploits with the Slytherin Prince.

She sighs heavily, deciding not to risk McGonagall’s wrath, “I want to hear everything at lunch – do not leave anything out, promise.”

Laughing once more, you cross your finger over your heart, “I promise.”

-----

Until lunch, Miriam sends you excited glances and knowing smiles. In between second and third period, she comments on the fact that she didn’t even think that you were seeing someone – not to insult you, but she just assumed that you holed yourself up in the library where you studied as late as you could.

Miriam practically bounces up to you when the bell rings announcing lunch. She keeps her questions to herself until you both take a seat at the Hufflepuff table, filling plates up with whatever took your fancy.

“So how did it start?”

You take a sip of pumpkin juice before beginning, “Over last summer, my family got invited to one of the many balls thrown by his parents. I don’t usually go to those things, but my parents asked me to join them this one time; I think they were worried because I’d spent too much time in the garden studying the plants. So I went with them and Draco’s father asked him to ask me to dance and it all stemmed from there.

“He sent me a letter the day after thanking me for an entertaining evening and wondered whether I would want to meet up again. I agreed and then from there it evolved into this.”

Miriam’s smile drops into a frown when she asks her next question, “Why keep it a secret? Was it his decision?”

You shake your head fiercely, “It was both ours. We were both equally as worried about the fallout from our families and our houses.”

“But surely if Lucius Malfoy asked Draco to dance with you, he wouldn’t mind?”

You tilt your head, thinking, “Perhaps not. He wouldn’t mind the blood status, but he might mind my being a Hufflepuff,” You shrug, “Anyway we haven’t gone public yet.”

“Ten months is a long time to keep this a secret.”

“It’s not like it hasn’t been hard and that there haven’t been times where I wanted to shout it to the entire wizarding world, but for now, it’s a secret.”

Miriam nods; the frown still expressed on her face. She reaches out her hand to yours, taking it tightly, “You’ve told me now though so that’s a shoulder to lean on should it get too much again.”

You beam at your friend, “Thank Merlin for you, Miriam.”

Miriam goes to reply but she’s distracted by someone approaching the Hufflepuff table. She lets go of your hand and nods her head to something behind you.

Turning in your seat, you find Draco patiently waiting. You smile at him, “Draco, how can I help?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute… about our last History of Magic lesson? You see, I didn’t take any notes and I was wondering if you had some.”

You smirk, “Why don’t we go outside? That way I’m not cluttering up the table for the others that are still eating.”

Draco grins, nodding at you understandingly, “Wonderful idea. Lead the way.”

Hoisting your bag on your shoulder, you send a wink in Miriam’s direction. She returns one with a laugh before beginning to eat once again.

Draco follows you from the Great Hall and to a less busy corridor. You lean against the wall with a smirk, “Now did you really want my notes, or did you already miss me?”

“More the latter than the former,” Draco admits with a small smile. He frowns though as he takes in your uniform, his eyes running up and down, “Is that my shirt?”

You look down at your clothing, only now realising that the shirt you had put on in a hurry this morning was indeed Draco’s. The arms being too long that you had to roll them twice before you could even start writing something.

You giggle, “I think it is.”

“I only wondered when I had to walk back to my common room shirtless.”

“No!” You shout, delighted at the thought of Draco running shirtless through the corridors.

Draco laughs, nodding, “I had my outer robes of course, but there was very little underneath.”

You clap your hands in sheer delight, “I’d give you back your shirt, but I’ve become awfully fond of it, you see.”

“Oh you have?”

Nodding, you say, “I have. It smells a lot like you which is great for when I miss you.”

Draco groans, throwing his head back, “If we weren’t in public, I’d be kissing you senseless right now. I didn’t realise how good you would look in my shirt.”

“Why don’t you?” You challenge.

Draco’s mouth drops open, “What?”

“Kiss me senseless.”

“Are you sure? We’ve kept this secret for so long,” Draco comments, a finger pointing between your two bodies.

You shuffle closer to him, “I’m sure. Ten months is long enough to keep you a secret, I’m happy to tell everyone now.”

Draco wraps you in his arms, not hesitating to kiss you. You gave yourself entirely to the kiss; pushing yourself off the wall and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your heart skips a beat when one of Draco’s hands starts to draw aimless patterns on the small of your back, sending heat rushing through your body. You sigh against his mouth before pulling away; repressing the urge to continue as the need for oxygen has become too great.

He presses one last gentle peck to your lips before grinning widely, “Are you really sure you want to go public?”

“Super sure. So sure in fact I’d make out with you again to prove my point.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “Tempting but I say we go back to lunch. I think your friend had more questions.”

You grin at the thought of Miriam’s reaction to see you walking with Draco, “It sounds too good to pass up,” You hold your hand out to Draco, “Lead the way.”

It was all worth it when Miriam’s reaction to seeing you sit back down at the Hufflepuff table with Draco in tow was to spit out her pumpkin juice.

**************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​ @summer-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​ @iamobscuring​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obx-beach​ @obxmxybxnk​ @sycathorn-slush​ @dracomalfoyswifey​

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part IV/VII)

"wrong name"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst-fluff

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadowss @missmulti @accioweaslcy

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language, mentions of Fred x Reader, brief mention of death ig (?) Feels

A/N: here's a Christmas fic that has no right to be this angsty lmao, enjoy nonetheless <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

We apparated in the Weasley front yard together at dusk at the same time as Percy did; we greeted him with a hug and entered their old home, only to be met with more hugs.

I had only stayed at the Burrow once, arriving the night we escorted Harry, and leaving shortly after the tragic and abrupt ending of Bill and Fleur's wedding.

I had attended to the wedding as Fred's date. Even if we agreed that there was nothing serious between us, we cared deeply for one another, and I was important enough for him that he asked me to present ourselves together in front of his family.

How odd it was that the second time I was staying at the Burrow, it was because I had been asked to attend this Christmas gathering by none other than George —as friends, of course—; so odd that it made me anxious, but Arthur and Molly were way too welcoming for that anxiety to carry on longer than a minute after I stepped into their home.

"Y/n, dear!" Molly held me back while George went to greet his siblings, who had arrived earlier than us. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"She didn't want to come." George snitched, coming back to us after hugging his father. "Said she felt like she was trespassing."

"George!" My cheeks burned when he exposed me.

"Oh, darling," Molly pulled me into the house to join the rest. "You're always welcomed here, don't be silly!"

Molly had liked me since day one, even before Fred and I became a thing. I was the one to receive her when the Weasley matriarch first visited the shop, and we immediately got along. Fred had explained to me that it was because I reminded his mother of her younger self.

"You're a snitch." I whispered into George's ear as we both walked behind Molly in the kitchen direction, his only response was to stick out his tongue, which made us both chuckle.

Molly looked over her shoulder and I caught in her eyes the same emotion I saw in Ginny's the first time she came to visit the shop after the reopening.

A profound emotion rooted in hope; a bittersweet feeling coming from the thought that, even though Fred was gone, George seemed to be coming back to us.

I felt it too, whenever he smiled. It was lovely to see him actually happy; I wished I could keep him like that forever, even in the nights, when everything would come down on his shoulders, tearing apart every spark of joy might have had in the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We weren't finished with food yet when Arthur wiped his mouth with the napkin and, clapping his hands once, exclaimed, "Alright, time for presents!" Teddy, who rested on Bill's lap, squealed, his hair turning pink; that baby was smart. "I'll get them, dear." He stopped his wife from standing up and went to get them himself.

He distributed the gifts, and I was surprised when he handed me one. "Oh! You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense!" Arthur stopped me, resuming his task with a warm smile. Everyone was happy in that moment, and I knew George's mood had a big part on that.

He unwrapped his, which turned out to be a purple and orange scarf and matching mittens. He was putting on the mittens when I tossed the wrap of my present, uncovering a cardigan formed by several tones of my favorite color.

"Put it on!" George requested excited. unbeknownst to me, it had been him who told Molly my favorite color. "Aw you look fantastic." He observed, poorly wrapping his scarf around his neck.

"Of course I do." I agreed, shifting on my chair to face him, my hands traveling to his scarf to relocate it properly.

Though we didn't notice, it wasn't the first time that more than one pair of eyes observed us that night, and it wouldn't be the last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill and Fleur had offered to take care of Teddy since they were leaving to Shell Cottage, so Harry and Ginny could spend the night at the Burrow without the worry of the baby.

Percy was terribly tired, so he withdrew from the living room to go to sleep.

Thank goodness he did; Percy was probably the second most affected by Fred death, and after that nice evening, he wouldn't have wanted to witness what was about to happen.

Ron, Hermione and I had colonized the settee, while Ginny and George were on their feet near the table, chatting about some nonsense; Molly was cleaning the dishes. Harry had offered to help her, but she refused, so the boy decided to talk with Arthur instead.

Molly pointed with her index finger at the remaining glasses laid on the table and called for George.

The thing is, she didn't really call for George.

"Fred, darling, hand me those."

The room fell silent.

It took a moment for her to realise, but an instant later, Molly was covering her mouth with her hand, her glassy stare fixed on the wrong named twin.

My eyes frantically travelled to every single person in the room, who had gone livid. We all seemed to be holding our breaths, waiting for some kind of explosive reaction.

Then my attention was drawn to George, whose, until that instant amused gaze, had turned blank and expressionless.

"Darling—" Molly's voice shattered with a single word. As Arthur went to console his wife, Ginny led her older brother aside and whispered things only he could hear, attempting to sooth him. "It slipped..." Molly cried.

I stayed sat on the couch with Hermione and Ron, the three of us frozen; I felt like I was an intruder witnessing a very intimate family moment.

"George don't—" we heard Ginny raising her voice before her brother disapparated. "Bloody hell!" She spun around and walked to me. "Y/n, speak to him, he'll listen to you." She practically begged, nodding her head at the window, prompting me to look at George standing alone at the edge of the cornfield, already making his way in.

"I-I..." I didn't need to look around in order to acknowledge all the eyes laid on me. "O-okay." I blinked away my own tears and rushed to the door, only to be stopped by Molly's shaky hand.

"Please- tell him I'm sorry."

"I don't think he'll blame you." I reassured the wrecked mother, offering her a comforting smile before making my way out and jogging into the cornfield myself.

"George?" When I didn't obtain an answer, it dawned on me how dumb it had been to dive into that area without knowing where to go. "George?"

I yelped when something tugged on my sleeve, making my body pivot on my heel. "You know how easy is to get lost in here?" The ginger questioned in a raspy tone, the hand that had been on my sleeve going down to mine, which invited him into my hold.

"She didn't mean— I reckon she just... Saw him in you for a second."

"I know." Though his eyes did look a bit red, he was calm.

"You alright?" I inquired, taking my hand to his cheek, on which he leaned.

"I just..." Sigh. His right hand travelled up to his face to hold mine in it before pulling away. "I need a moment alone."

I nodded. "Don't take too long or you'll catch a cold." He hummed affirmatively, and I half-heartedly left the cornfield and headed to the Burrow.

I excused George, assuring them he would be okay and, though the previous light-hearted environment didn't return, the tension in the air dissipated a bit.

A few minutes later, George came in; his mother welcomed with open arms and he returned the hug, having a small conversation against Molly's shoulder before making a beeline to me, sitting by my side.

I felt my cheeks flushing as he leaned on me, putting his head on my shoulder; suddenly self-conscious at the closeness between us. Somehow it was different being that close the privacy of our flat, than outside of it. Though it felt somehow inappropriate, when his long fingers intertwined with mines, I indulged him, trying hard not to meet neither Hermione's nor Ginny's eyes —they had been staring so much that I had noticed them an hour ago.

I was completely unaware of Molly's gaze laid on us too.

George, whose eyes had been closed, sit up straighter to whisper in my ear, "Can we go back to the flat?" My eyes met his and I realised we were even closer than I had thought in first place.

"I thought we were staying the night?" I murmured, trying in vain to keep his family out of the conversation they were pretending not to hear.

He leaned a bit closer only for me to hear his words. "I don't think I can sleep in my room."

"Do it for your mum." I squeezed his hand and he sighed. "I'm gonna stay in that room with you." Another sigh, but this one was of defeat, letting me know that I had talked some sense into him.

HERMIONE'S P. O. V.

At the beginning of the evening, when George and Y/n had first stepped into the Burrow, Ginny had come to me, urging me to observe them closely.

At first I didn't know why she would say that, but after the wrong name slipped out of Molly's lips, I started to get a hold of the matter, but it seemed so surreal— it just couldn't be.

Though the way Y/n's cheeks lighted up when George took a seat between us did remind me of the way I used to react when Ron got a tad too close to me in our sixth year.

After a while Y/n seemed to forget about our presence and eased besides George, making their bodies get closer.

When we decided to call it a day and the ones left in the living room started to retreat to their rooms for the night, Y/n got up without letting go of George's hold at any moment and, thanking Molly for her hospitality, they made their way upstairs.

Had my eyes not been trained on them, I would have missed the way George's hands went to Y/n's waist as his chin fell on her shoulder.

I left the sofa and walked to Ginny before she and Harry could slither to their dorm. "Are they...?"

"Not sure." Ginny replied with knitted brows. "What'd you think?"

"I... Don't know." I confessed.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

We entered the dark room, illuminated only by the light provided by the night sky and started to discard our clothes in silence without looking at each other.

I was the first one to finish, making my way to my old bed and catching a glimpse of Y/n's silouhette while she threw a tee on.

I was utterly, hopelessly in love with her.

I had known I loved her for quite a while, but the feeling that had made my heart swell and my stomach flutter when she got into the cornfield without giving it a second thought in order to find me, that was something else.

I had also felt it when she had found me lifeless in Fred's room a couple of months ago; that feeling had been the reason why I found the strength in me to come back to life.

I was young, but I just knew what I felt went further from only love.

"What's on your mind?" She was already slipping under the covers by my side, her arms wrapping around me and bringing my back closer to her chest.

You, I wanted to say. "Not much."

"Liar." She tugged on my shirt and I turned on my other side so we would be facing each other. "C'mon, it's just me."

Words blurted out of my mouth, escaping my control. "Do you see him when you look at me?"

And I wasn't making anything up; It was, in fact, on my mind. It had appeared during the walk through the cornfield and it hadn't left, but Y/n's scent, touch and words had backed that thought to a corner of my mind.

She wondered, tucking one of my locks away from my forehead. "Sometimes, but not like you think." She must have sensed my inquiry because she explained further. "There are small gestures, jokes— things like that in you, that remind me of him." Her eyes were roaming all over my face, her hands bringing mines to her heart. "When you're happy, like tonight— I can't quite explain it but... it sorta seems like he's still here. So yeah, you could say I see a little bit of Fred when I look at you." Her eyes finally met mines. "It's not a bad thing— you love him so much that we can still see him through you."

"Loved." I corrected her, my thumb drawing circles on the back of her palm. "He's dead." A tear rolled down my cheek, but Y/n caught it with her fingertips before it could reach the pillow.

"Love never dies, Georgie." Her replied seem to carry more significance that someone would see at first sight, but I was too tired to discern it.

I couldn't tell if she had scooted closer, or if I had unconsciously leaned on, but the tips of our noses were nearly touching.

Initially, she didn't attempt to put more distance between us, and I couldn't help but let my hopes get high. I waited for a sign, something that would let me know I could close the gap between our lips —oh, how I craved to feel her lips—, but the sign didn't come and we stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity before she casted down her eyes, immediately breaking the spell.

"Goodnight, Y/n." I whispered, turning my back to her.

"Goodnight, George." She mumbled back, coming closer to cuddle me.

[anonthenullifier]

I have a quote prompt, actually it’s from the first issue of the 1985 Vision and the Scarlet Witch Comic. “The Scarlet Witch is never helpless”

I love this quote! My mind went through so many options that were all really different. Hopefully you enjoy the one I settled on!

——

The cave smells of sulphur and the air is swamp-like, her hair bunching into curls with each additional minute in the humidity. “Hey, Vizh,” Wanda keeps her voice low, as calm as possible, hoping the only attention she rouses is Vision’s and not the transdimensional lava demon clomping back and forth across the cavern. Neither of them stir so she tries again, a touch louder, “Vision.” Under normal circumstances she would reach out not only to his mind but also send a tendril of scarlet to dance along his jaw, except said demon has apparently been studying them, devising vices to limit the use of their powers. Without the freedom of her hands, she finds it hard to channel her powers with enough finesse to only alert Vision, leaving her able only to feel the outermost furling of his thoughts. This is not enough for her to determine that Vision is okay, especially in his current state, his body suspended so that it is leaning forward, arms uncomfortably hoisted behind him to eliminate the chance he can turn his head and sear away the chains with the Mindstone. It reminds her of the nightmare that was aerial battle yoga with Natasha. Wanda tries to nudge his mind while defaulting to conversation in the hope he’ll respond. “I don’t know about you, but my arms are tired.”

Without even opening his eyes, he provides an autopiloted insight to her discomfort, “That would be due to the gravitational field of this planet being almost three times that of Earth.” Two seconds is all it takes before his mind seems to catch up to his surroundings, voice trembling with realization as he raises his head to look at her, “Wanda...when did you get captured?”

Time is meaningless down here, mainly because she can’t access her handheld device to determine how long it’s truly been. “Maybe half an hour ago?” This shouldn't be the point of conversation, however, her own capture not accidental by any means, but she can’t risk alerting their captor to that. “How are you holding up?”

“Rather uncomfortably, as you can no doubt observe.” If his response were a wine, she’d be puckering. At least his spirits are still intact enough to be sardonic. “Are you unharmed?”

His swing from sarcasm to unfettered anxiety dictates she give more than a nonchalant I’m fine. Unlike him, she is in a pretty basic prisoner-in-an-evil-lair position—ankles shackled to the stone wall and shoulders screaming at being suspended by the metal glove encasing both her hands. Even if she’s been here a couple hours less than him, all blood has already drained from her hands and forearms causing pins and needles to colonize under her skin. “Other than my arms, I’m not hurt.” Relief sags his body as much as the restraints allow, maybe a millimeter, but it’s enough, along with his shaky breath out, to convey his ever present concern for her over himself. It’s why she redirects to the real concern here: him. “I assume your powers aren’t working?” The chains attached to Vision’s wrists and ankles jangle morosely as he demonstrates phasing for her. The second his body flickers it is consumed by an electrical shock that sizzles along the edges of the vibranium. She finds herself wincing just so someone acknowledges how agonizing it looks. “You could have just said yes.”

The resounding clink of metal this time is due to his attempt at a shrug, “I felt it pertinent to test the efficacy of the power destabilizer in case it had malfunctioned.”

“Looked like you were trying to win the pitiful award.”

His breathy, contained snort very briefly eradicates the twinge she’s developed in her lower back. “I presume you are either a fellow victim or,” hope enters his question with a little vocal uptick, “here to enact a daring rescue?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good...good,” they lapse into a moment of silence, “and that plan is?”

The plan was for her to get captured, as it’s the only known way into the deepest cavern and then either wait for the others to find a way to infiltrate (not even Strange’s portals capable of getting in) or she has to identify a weakness from within. It’s not a great plan but it’s what they have to work with since she refused to go another minute not knowing if Vision was okay. “Um, still finalizing it.”

“Ah, well, looking forward to it then.” If anyone else was down here with him they would likely have overlooked the subtle undercurrent of sass, assuming he was just being anticipatory, but she knows every rise and fall of his voice, every carefully planned cadence and right now he is being an ass. A very handsome ass, but an ass nonetheless.

“But now that I’m here, it’s kind of nice,” it’s not, it’s hot, it’s muggy, it’s dripping with molten rock and peppered with vents puffing up noxious gases, “like one of those spas with the hot stone massage.”

Vision does his best to examine the hellscape, neck only able to crane so far due to the angle of his suspension and the increased gravity, not even his attempts at lowering his density are successful in alleviating either impediment, “I would temper your excitement. The attendant,” he nods towards the demon who is currently pacing in front of an iridescent oval, “informed me they are fresh out of those little cucumber slices for your eyes.”

Without thinking, Wanda allows a single syllable laugh to escape her lips, an action that causes the horned, amorphous head of their captor to turn towards her, its eyes burning like two embers hanging on for life at the end of a campfire. Wanda quickly puts on a pathetic whimper, giving her chains a few good rattles and a pitiful, “Please let us go” and then waits until the demon has returned its attention to guarding the prismatic holding container before responding. “I’m knocking a star off their rating then.”

“That seems fair.”

Having confirmed Vision is relatively fine, Wanda lets them lapse back into silence, a recommendation from Carol to not be overly loquacious in case it stirred suspiciousness towards their still forming grand rescue plan, which is usually fine, one thing she loves about Vision is how easy it is to feel comfortable in silence, the gentle thrum of his mind a soothing, harmonious white noise. Except currently she can’t get deep enough into his thoughts to find reprieve. All she can experience is the echo of evenly spaced though labored breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the clenching of his teeth anytime he attempts to shift his density to counteract the angle of his imprisonment. Wanda tries to tamp down the rising worry of what failure would mean, instead directing all of her own attention to feeling out the options for escape.

First she has to figure out her powers. Not only are her hands bound together in the metal glove, her fingers have been forced into fists with no room to expand. It’s uncomfortable and aggravating but also a grave misunderstanding of her abilities because sometimes finesse isn’t necessary. As controlled as she can manage, Wanda collects her powers into one concentrated ball centering in her chest, holding it steady in case she needs to utilize what Vision has lovingly deemed her supernova. No matter how impressive, however, it’s a dangerous maneuver, one she can’t risk in unstable environments, like a potentially active alien volcano. Which is why she needs to channel the man next to her and be patient. Assess everything. This would be easier if her arms didn’t feel like they were about to fall off.

“Um Wanda…”

Her Yeah? shrivels into terrified nothingness the second she raises her eyes, the lumbering form of their captor oozing over towards Vision. Behind it the shining oval and prismatic container are blindingly bright. That’s never a good sign. Neither is the way it reaches a coal colored hand towards Vision. “Don’t touch him.” There’s a snort, dismissive and loud and like a million steam engines erupting all at once If Wanda had her hands free, she’d use them to cover her ears, the world around her muffled now, even her own breaths sounding distant and unconnected from her.

The demon doesn’t listen to her, a solitary finger delicately (as delicately as a monstrous entity can) touching the Mindstone. The stone lights up in response. Based on the shock spreading across Vision’s face and rippling through his body, he is not in control of it. She has made the stone betray him before, and still lives with that guilt, still remembers the way he described it to her, the suffocating realization that he lacked control over such an integral aspect of himself. She’ll be damned to allow anyone else to make him feel it again.

“Stop!” Horrified, she watches the demon ignore her, beckoning the Mindstone energy forward in a docile beam, inching it along with malicious encouragement even as Vision thrashes against his restraints. Clearly the time for planning is over. “I said stop!”

The demon's head swings towards her and she almost screams, the crackling skin of their captor close enough for her to gaze into the smoldering eyes studying her. She imagines standing in the middle of a raging forest fire would be more comforting than the depths of hell in its pupils. “Accept your fate, little witch.” The words spoken are not the ones she hears, its voice akin to the shattering of an entire hutch of china during a tornado, a tinkling of shards as they get whisked away in the howling wind, and yet she understands it, likely some form of mental translation Dr. Strange told them existed in other beings. It’s awe-inspiring while also being a complete ass.

Wanda meets its eyes and glares. “Only if you accept your fate.”

It laughs, wings expanding out across the entire cavern, shaking as if it has heard a joke for the first time in eons. “You,” it bends low, the heat of its body drawing droplets of sweat along her forehead, “are helpless here.”

“You are going to regret that.” For a man who only seconds ago was fighting for his life, Vision’s gleeful taunt enlivens in her the last bit of strength she needs.

Wanda siphons his confidence into herself, unlocking the core of her power as she sets up her daring rescue at last. “You made two mistakes today.” The transdimensional demon lacks hair and any sort of eyebrows, but that doesn’t stop the distinct feeling of it raising them in disbelief. “First,” Wanda leans forward as much as the chains allow, “you kidnapped and tortured the love of my life. And second,” scarlet begins seeping through her body, crackling along her skin as she speaks, “you assumed I was helpless,” the plan was to cause as little harm as possible, the terrain unstable, the power of this demon unknown, but that’s too soft a punishment for a being that doubts her might, that thinks it can control her, that tried to take from her and think she wouldn’t fight back. Wanda makes sure the demon is looking directly at her when she invokes its fate . “The Scarlet Witch is never helpless.”

As the last word falls from her lips, she allows her powers to erupt.

Oiled hands knead up and down Wanda’s arm, applying the perfect amount of pressure to alleviate the last of her aches. There’s a lovely waft of chamomile each time she breathes in and a soothing melody of some nondescript instrumental track. Even more peaceful is the ebb and flow of Vision’s thoughts, her powers greedily deep in his mind. It’s why she’s able to smile in anticipation of his next comment.

“I agree with you.”

Wanda stays face down, far too relaxed to even think about moving, “Obviously,” a little snort comes from her left, guiding her lips up higher into victory, “what specifically?”

“I just finished the report,” only Vision would consider mission reports a comfort read, “Dr. Strange is still perturbed with your methods.”

In her mind there was no inkling of doubt their de facto mission leader was seething, mostly due to the forty minute lecture she received on excessive use of powers, but rarely does he allow it to seep into ink for everyone to read. “I think he’s jealous.”

What she expects is an airy laugh and then a gentle rebuttal, instead she is delivered a treat, “I do believe that is part of it.” Wanda apologizes to the masseuse as she props herself up to look over at Vision, tickled at the unadulterated relaxation before her. He’s engulfed in a snowy white robe while reclined in a chair, a hot towel wrapped around his head with two little cucumber slices on his eyes that look like lifeboats in the waves of the clay mask slathered on his face. When he talks it forms little cracks in the mask, “You achieved a feat he could not, anyone would experience at least a speck of jealousy.”

“Even you?”

“If I had been in his position?” the cracks splinter in six different branches as he contemplates. “Yes, even me. But,” gingerly he reaches up and lifts a cucumber, allowing her to see the swirling gear of his iris, “given I was not in his position, I, instead, am able to appreciate how very fortunate I am to be loved by such a stunningly powerful woman.” A flirty little wink is sent her way before the cucumber drops back into place.

Wanda grins, cheeks rising high enough to hurt a little, as she settles back into the massage table. After all these years that little boyish grin and wink of his urges her heart to beat a hair faster. Maybe she lied in the cavern, overstated the level of helplessness she can experience, because no matter the circumstance, she will always be helplessly in love with Vision. A fact that doesn’t weaken her, can never tame her, one instead that challenges her to understand and harness her powers even more because the universe will never stop trying to take from her, will relentlessly pursue her happiness. This she won’t stand for anymore. Whatever comes next, no matter how intimidating or powerful, she will be ready to yet again prove that the Scarlet Witch is not so easily crossed.

[nevermindirah]

Ok it's Jewish Booker o'clock, I can no longer stop myself, let's do this!

Why Jewish Booker? Dude was born in Marseilles in 1770, which happens to be a FASCINATING time and place in Jewish history, and it adds ridiculous layers to his character (without excusing a damn thing). Alternately just because I think he’s neat :)

Jewish Booker headcanons that make me happy:

not to be all "real Jews do X" but Jews fuck with candles hard. Book of Nile thrives on old/modern analog/digital giggles. Booker lighting Shabbat candles, lighting yarzeit (memorial) candles for his wife and sons (sob), lighting a menorah, lighting candles just because he's feeling emotional even though it's not chag (a holiday) or a yarzeit and Nile thinks he's trying to be sexy but he's really just in his feelings. just like. so many candles.

maybe Booker was the person who punched Richard Spencer at Trump's inauguration, just bringing back that time somebody punched a famous neonazi in the street and said neonazi has all but stopped appearing in public after a few rounds of public punching

were the Old Guard in Charlottesville in 2017? how many times has Booker the Blond Jew infiltrated North American white nationalist / Klan type activities and then stolen their weapons and/or killed them? likewise there's plenty of horrifying white nationalist shit happening across Europe this century, how many Pim Fortuyn types has he been involved in taking down? (I Am Of Course Not Endorsing Violence TM ;) ;) )

SINGING. Mattias Schoenaerts sings in Away From the Madding Crowd but it's church shit, sigh, anyway he has a nice voice. a lot of Jewish prayer is sung/chanted (depending on when/where you are and the gender rules of the community you're in) and there’s been a lot of innovation to Jewish singing in Booker’s lifetime, and I just want Nile to overhear him singing to himself on Friday afternoons

Nile Freeman was four years old when The Prince of Egypt came out, she grew up on that shit, she would want to introduce her new family to that shit. Please join me in picturing Booker, Nicky, Joe, and Andy all shouting "that's not how it happened!!" throughout this beautiful nightmare of a movie with lovely animation and songs but where white people voice most of the Egyptian and Jewish characters, because Booker Nicky and Joe's religious texts all frame the Exodus story a little differently and Andy was probably there when it happened (except for how it didn't actually happen it's an important story but it's just a story pls just let me giggle about Andy being super old)

Read below the cut for sad Jewish Booker headcanons, French Jewish history (mostly sad), context on antisemitism (enraging/sad), and all the way to the very end for a himbo joke.

Jewish Booker headcanons, I made myself sad edition:

he is a forger. who was alive. in 1939. visas. VISAS. V I S A S. how many of us did he save? how many more could he have saved if he didn't sleep that night? how heavily does that weigh?

how do we think he BECAME a forger? most likely he was doing what he needed to do to support his family, which gets extra poignant if he was also trying to help his people, forging documents as well as money even during his mortal life

Booker raised Catholic by crypto-Jews adds ANOTHER layer to the forgery thing, no shit he'd get good at falsifying paperwork and coming up with plausible cover stories

do we know how Booker made it back home after his first death in 1812? his route between the Russian Empire and Provence in 1812 would've been a patchwork of laws about Jews, in case starvation and frostbite weren't enough for him to have to deal with, he's blond and could maybe get away with pretending not to be Jewish if he had to, alternately maybe synagogues and yeshivot took him in on his way home

the structural and sometimes-interpersonal dynamics of antisemitism cause many individual Jews to experience feelings of teetering on the fence between a valued member of a not-exclusively-Jewish community and a scapegoat/outcast/problem. HOLY SHIT BOOKER. "what do you know of all these years alone" is the most Jewish loneliness-in-a-crowd shit I've ever heard. fear that we're not wanted, or only wanted so long as we're useful — that's something that basically all people struggle with under capitalism, but it's especially poignant for many Jews because of the particular way antisemitism operates. (NOTE this can tip from a legit Jewish Booker reading to woobification of the sad white man who couldn't possibly be held responsible for his own actions because he's so sad, which, NOPE. it's very understandable for him to feel left out and misunderstood and not as wanted, as the youngest and not part of an immortal couple and maybe Jewish, but NONE OF THIS excuses his betrayal.)

Crusaders murdered a lot of Jews on their way to the ~holy land~. how many of Booker's people did Nicky kill on his way to kill Joe's people? has Booker ever actually talked to either of them about it?

I read this really beautiful fic about Joe needing to circumcise himself after getting run over by a cart (ouch) — this is a hell of a thing for Joe and Booker to have in common

just generally Jewish Booker adds more layers to him and Joe so clearly being such close friends, ugh that look Joe gives him when they're leaving the bar at the end of the movie, and I very much do not mean this in a gross Arab-Israeli-conflict way because Joe is Amazigh not Arab and Booker is Jewish not Israeli (and also a lot of Jews are Arabs) (but most importantly there's no ~eternal conflict~ between Muslims and Jews) (more about OP Is Not A Zionist below)

like, the UK and France (and to a certain extent Italy) carved up the former Ottoman Empire after WWI; among other things, the UK took Palestine, and they could've worked on eradicating European antisemitism so Jews wouldn't have to leave but instead they used their control of Palestine to encourage Zionist emigration of Jews out of Europe, and France took what is now Iraq, which has some pretty direct implications for US military involvement in that country in Nile's lifetime; France colonized Tunisia in the late 19th century and still held it during the Vichy era which means Tunisian Jews were subject to Nazi anti-Jewish laws which is just layers upon layers of colonial racist Islamophobic and antisemitic nightmares for Joe and Booker to live through

to be crystal clear before anybody gets ooh Muslim-Jewish conflict up in here, antisemitism is an invention of European Christians that they imported to the places they colonized, the European colonial powers encouraged Zionism because it was easier for them to encourage Jews to leave Europe and set us up as middle agents between the colonial powers and the ~scary brown people~, the Ottoman Empire and other Muslim governments historically have had a second-class citizenship category for non-Muslims that rankles my American first amendment freedom of religion sensibility but was very much not targeting Jews specifically, and these two men who've lived for a long-ass time through many varieties of geopolitical awfulness (and alongside a certain unwashed Crusader who has since learned his lesson) would have Things To Say about how our current mainstream discourses frame these things

getting off my soapbox and back to this action movie I'm trying to talk about, the ANGST of Booker's exile, which is simultaneously a very valid decision for Andy Joe and Nicky to make, an extremely long time for Nile who is only 26 years old to be separated from the one person on the planet in a position to really understand the crisis she's going through, and holy shit expelling a Jew from your group when he's already been expelled from mortality and his family and being expelled from places and continually having to start over somewhere new is THE curse of surviving through antisemitism, OUCH MY FEELINGS

Some French Jewish history:

France, like basically all of Europe, periodically expelled its Jews, but Provence (where Marseilles is) wasn't legally part of France during the expulsions up through 1398 so Provence had a continuous active Jewish community; about 3,000 Iberian Jewish refugees ended up in Provence after the expulsions from Spain and Portugal in the 1490s

the 1498 expulsion of French Jews DID apply to Provence but many "converted" to Christianity and reestablished a Jewish community when enforcement of the expulsion chilled out (which was in the government's interest because they were really into taxing Jews at higher rates, so much so that they taxed "new Christians" at higher rates once they realized expelling Jews meant they wouldn't be around to overtax, ffs) — by the mid-18th century Provence had notable communities of Jews and crypto-Jews (forced converts and their descendants who still kept some Jewish practices in secret)

Booker would've been 21 when revolutionary France granted equal legal rights to Jews in 1791 — his mortal life and first century of immortality happens to line up almost perfectly with the timeline of legal emancipation of Jews across Europe

the American and French Revolutions happened pretty much concurrently and took different approaches to religious freedom that make Book of Nile with Jewish Booker and canon Christian Nile extra interesting — French emancipation, at least from my American sensibility, is about secularism and religion not "interfering" (hence French Islamophobic shittiness about banning hijabs), whereas American religious freedom is more of "the government can't stop me from trying to evangelize / religiously harass people at my school/workplace/etc" — to be clear I think both countries' approaches to religious "freedom" are hegemonic as shit and have devastating flaws, but they're different models that emerged at the same time in Booker's youth and Christianity is clearly a source of emotional support for Nile and there's so much to explore here

Napoleon tried to ~liberate~ the Jews of places he conquered for his dumbass French Empire, but liberation from ghettos came with strings attached (like banning us from some of the only jobs we'd been legally allowed to have for centuries, and liberating us for the stated purpose of getting us to assimilate and stop being Jews) and many places that were briefly part of the French Empire reinstated their antisemitic laws after Napoleon was gone, can you imagine being a French Jew forced to fight and die in Russian winter for that jackass and then have to trudge back through a dozen countries whose antisemitism was all riled up by French interference?

Some facts about antisemitism:

antisemitism operates differently than many other oppressions, it doesn't economically oppress the target group in the same way as antiblackness or misogyny or ableism etc — the purpose of antisemitism is to create a scapegoat to blame when European peasants are mad at the king / the church / the people actually in charge, and structural antisemitism encourages a system where some Jews become visibly successful so that those individuals and our whole community are easier to make into scapegoats

one of the historical roots of antisemitism is stuff in the Christian Bible about moneylending as sinful — Jews in medieval Europe were often barred from owning land and Christians barred from moneylending, so some Jews found work in finance and some of us became very visibly successful for working with money — a few individual Jews running a particular bank or finding success as jewelry dealers turns into "Jews control global financial systems" scapegoating — a more recent example of this is the participation of nonblack Jews in white flight and the role of Jewish landlords doing the visible dirty work of non-Jewish institutions in American antiblack housing discrimination, Nile grew up on the South Side of Chicago and would have seen some shit along these lines and might repeat hurtful ideas out of a lack of knowledge, here's Ta Nahesi Coates on some of these dynamics

Booker canonically being a forger (specifically of coins in the comics?) needs a little extra care to avoid antisemitic tropes about Jews and money, I will happily answer good-faith asks about this if you want to check on something for a fic/etc

antisemitism in the United States where I live in October 2020 isn't institutional in the sense of targeting Jews for police violence or anything like that. it IS systemic, however, for example in all the antisemitic conspiracy theories the Trump administration and several other Republicans peddle (ie QAnon), and in how the Trump administration points to support for Israel as if that means support for Jews (it doesn't, it's evangelical Christians who push the US government to support the Israeli government because they think Jews need to be in the ~holy land~ for Jesus to come back that's literally why the United States funds Israel at the level it does). antisemitism also gets weaponized to encourage white Jews (those of us of European descent, who in the United States are definitely white because the foundation of US racism is slavery and antiblackness as well as anti-indigenous genocide, maybe European Jews aren't included in whiteness everywhere but we definitely are where I live) to side with white supremacy instead of building solidarity with other marginalized people (ie a lot of mainstream Jewish groups shit on the Movement for Black Lives because of its solidarity with Palestinians)

the Nation of Islam has a major presence in Chicago and its leader Louis Farrakhan who lives in Chicago has long spread a variety of antisemitic as well as homophobic bullshit but there are genuine good reasons many Black people find meaning/support in the Nation of Islam and Nile would've grown up with that mess in the air around her, this is a good take from a Black Jew about the nuance of all that

the way the Old Guard comics draw Yusuf al Kaysani is HOLY SHIT ANTISEMITISM BATMAN I hate it please summarize the comics for me because I DO NOT WANT to look at that unnecessarily caricatured nose why the fuck did they do that human noses are beautiful there is absolutely no need to draw Joe like a Nazi would

Jews for Racial and Economic Justice is a local NYC group that recently developed a fantastic resource for understanding and fighting antisemitism (pdf) 11/10 strongly recommend

Zionism disclaimer: A lot of Jews feel strongly that we need a Jewish-majority country in order to be safe from antisemitism. I strongly disagree with this idea on its merits (Jews disagree about who is a Jew and making Jewish status a government/immigration matter means some of us are going to get left out; also non-Jews aren't fundamentally dangerous and separatism isn't going to end antisemitism) but I have a lot of empathy for the very valid fear that leads a lot of my people to Zionism. Whether I want a Jewish-majority country or not, what Israel has done and continues to do to Palestinians is a deal breaker. Emotions run very high on this subject — I spend a lot of my not-Tumblr life talking to other Jews about Zionism and I'd rather not have this Jewish Booker headcanons post become yet another place where fellow Jews yell at me in bad faith. Block me if you need to, you're not going to change my mind. Call me self-hating if you want, I know I love us.

Racism in fandom disclaimer: I feel weird about increasing the volume of meta about Booker in this fandom. Nile Freeman is the main character and deserves lots of attention and adoration from the fandom — and she deserves emotional support from as many friends and orgasms from as many partners as she wants. I think Jewish Booker makes her friendship and potential romantic relationship with him even more interesting, hence this post. Ship what you ship, but be aware of the racist impact of focusing your fandom activity on, for example, shipping two white men while ignoring awesome characters of color especially the canon man of color one of those white dudes has already been with for a millennium. Please and thanks don't use my post for shenanigans like sidelining Joe so you can ship Booker with Nicky.

Oh and a non-disclaimer fun fact, Matthias Schoenaerts was born in Antwerp which apparently has one of the largest Jewish communities still remaining in Europe?? ~Jewish Booker headcanons intensify~

In conclusion: Jewish Booker! Just because it's fun! It exponentially increases the angst of his mortal lifetime and it puts his first century of immortality smack in the middle of the most intense changes to Jewish life since the fall of the Second Temple (aforementioned emancipation, also founding of Reform Judaism, the Haskalah, Zionism, and then of course the Holocaust). It makes his relationships with Nile, Joe, and Nicky more interesting and potentially angstier and with more intense commonalities and tenderness about their differences. It's very common for Jews to not believe in God (this confuses the shit out of a lot of Christians) and this would probably have further endeared him to Andy.

One more thing: Booker as golem. (A golem is basically an earthenware robot of Jewish folklore.) He's tall and blond and the most Steve Rogers-looking of all of them and from the Himbeaux region of France. THE trope of Book of Nile is he will do WHATEVER Nile wants or needs him to do. I was today years old when I learned that Modern Hebrew speakers use golem figuratively to mean "mindless lunk" and I'm choosing to squint and read that as "hot kind and dumb as rocks" because it amuses me.

[st-just]

So, 70 pages or so into The Poppy War and, because she lives in my brain rent free, I can’t help but drawing parallels between Rin in this and Baru Cormorant, childhood-wise.

Like, both are members of marginalized populations possessed of spectacular natural talents that would be of great use to their overlords (Rin a war orphan in some nowhere provincial village, Baru part of a newly colonized population and the daughter of a family the empire deems ‘deviant’). On account of natural talent and monomaniacal focus, both end up being recruited to elite imperial academies dedicated to training the next generation of generals and technocrats. In both cases the actual upper class of the empire has ... mixed opinions on the upjumped provincial in their midst.

But it’s the main differences that seem interesting, really - Fallcrest can’t really be exactly matched to any historical culture, but clearly exists as a stand-in for European colonialism writ large, whereas Nikara couldn’t be more clearly late-19th/early 20th century China if it tried. (which does play into the specific shit that gets piled on them - Baru has to deal with straightforward scientific racism and homophobia, whereas Rin seems so far to be mainly dealing with aristocratic contempt for the lower orders as much as really radicalized bigotry).

And at the same time - Baru’s childhood was basically idyllic, as far as she remembers it, and only the arrival of the Fallcressi and their smallpox and imperialism did things start to go to shit on Taranoke. Rin’s life in Rooster Province has been awful form basically the word go (war orphan, abusive adopted family, was going to be sold into marriage to a man three times her age the second she turned 16) and rather than having to be manipulated and pried away from her home she put herself through hell for the slightest chance of escape to the imperial center.

Idk, no actual point here (I’m, like, a 5th of the way through The Poppy War). So, just, it’s an interesting parallel to compare and contrast?

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 1 "Pilot" & Ep 2 "Hell Week"(Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Something really bad happened.

Did you just get your period all over yourself?

This isn't my blood.

Who told you you could have a baby here tonight?

I'm sure I can walk if I can just get some Gatorade.

I don't care if you can walk.

How are we supposed to get you to the front door without everyone seeing you all gross and postpartum?

No one wants to see that at a party.

This is super embarrassing.

I didn't even know I was pregnant.

You guys, they're playing "Waterfalls."

Is that a baby? Amazing.

I am not missing "Waterfalls" for this. "Waterfalls" is my jam.

Give the baby some mojito to quiet it down.

How do you know she's dead?

These are my minions. I don't know their names. I don't want to know their names.

I have a colonic at 10

Life is a class system.

Oh, still a lot of puke to scrub.

Yeah, you have an amazing skill at telling people what they need to hear.

I'm sorry. Did I ask you to pull down my panties and blow a compliment up my butt?

I hate sororities, and I hate you.

First of all, I'm not a lesbian.

You see, out in the real world, people just don't talk that way to other people. It's not normal.

Well, that sure sounds suspicious.

No one forced that goat to get as drunk as it got.

Historically, short people are sneaky backstabbers, like Napoleon or Paul Shaffer.

I could actually handle that you're built like a Thai ladyboy, but what I can't stand is that you think you're my heir apparent.

Don't you want me to spray-tan you?

I would honestly rather not have you around.

The police still can't figure out who filled that tank with hydrochloric acid.

It's good enough for me, and the D.A., who, last I heard, considers the case closed.

What is that skirt?

Your organization might want to find a lawyer.

I'm a pretty smart cookie.

I would not get personal with me, sweetheart.

I don't fight fair.

I am sentimental.

Look, girls are vicious, okay?

I don't have any of my own memories.

Just like we planned. Three-second silent hug, and then you leave.

Ooh, somebody call CSI, because there was a murder scene in that bathroom.

Someone puked in the sink and I'm pretty sure I saw an actual ringworm climbing up the wall. I'm not afraid of anything, but that bathroom scared the crap out of me.

This is gonna be a year of infinite possibilities.

Hold this. It's too heavy.

You didn't knock!

Look at them. They're the dregs of society.

Each one of these gashes is worse than the next.

She smells like hot dog water, and probably sprained her neck giving blumpkins down at the local bowling alley.

Look, I'm not saying that all heterosexual sex is rape. I'm saying all heterosexual sex is gross, and that deep down, every woman knows this.

All that girl's after is a whole lot of bikini burger.

Hey, girl, can I just ask you, what's up with your outfit?

God knows what they're talking about, basic bitches.

What fresh hell is this?

I need you to stay popular, 'cause if you want to stay at the top of the list of the pieces of ass I'm getting, there's criteria. And the criteria is you got to be popular.

Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there, because I'm getting really pissed off.

Stop fake crying.

Anyone you dated would be popular. I mean, they would be popular because they're dating you.

My ego, it's super strong, ok, but it's not strong enough that I can just go around dating garbage people.

Like, yes, I could find a random girl who wasn't popular, and, yes, if I started dating her she would then become popular.

But you said you loved me.

I do sort of love you.

I would love you a lot more if other people loved you, too.

Okay, I need you to leave because you're bumming me out

We're just trying to have a nice day hitting golf balls at hippies.

Pretty girls, like you and me.

That's why I'm gonna burn your face off.

Ugh! You burned the milk!

Next time, I get you fired, or worse.

Actually, I just want a regular coffee. Those white girl pumpkin spice lattes annoy me.

I like to think of myself, uh, as an investigative reporter.

I had to get a restraining order.

I tend to get a bit passionate about things.

Look, you intentionally led me on.

You kept acting like you liked me just so you could humiliate me.

Enter, ye who dare.

I love a creepy collage.

It's about kicking the living crap out of someone when they disrespect you.

I was just in your room, where I noticed you have a sizeable shrine with evil burning candles, photos of me with my face scratched out and pairs of my stolen panties.

How about I just drown you in it?

Well, of course she's dead! You just burned her face off!

You don't die from getting your face burned off.

There's a dead woman in your kitchen.

I'm going to the authorities.

That's not how I saw it. And my witnesses agree.

You're an awful person.

Who wants cocktails?

How did my life turn into this?

Have you seen the way girls dress on this campus?

I'm sitting in the same office I used to throw bricks into.

You're awful in bed. Are you aware?

I'm gonna take a pair of your panties.

I'm gonna barf on your face unless you get out of here.

Try to figure out who gave you such disgusting mommy issues.

You loaded a dead body into a freezer.

What are you proposing?

I want to help you with your exposé, secretly feed you info.

You need eyes on the inside.

I don't know what to do with the body.

Are you saying dead bodies don't turn you on?

You are so lame, you know that?

God, I love all that death stuff.

Show me the body.

Show me the dead body.

This blood oath will ensure solidarity among us. We are all related now.

I just Googled "blood oath" and this is what came up.

What does this oath even mean?

I just need you all to not say anything about what happened, and I figured a blood oath was cheaper than buying you all presents.

Wait, what about STDs?

Idiot, you don't get STDs from blood oaths.

You get STDs from dirty toilet seats and drinking the water in Mexico.

Um, "STD" stands for "sexually transmitted disease," which means that it's transmitted sexually.

When were you in Mexico?

You know what, forget the blood oath.

I can't stay silent!

I'm calling my mom, and I'm going home.

Okay, Pissy Spacek, you and I have a few differences we need to iron out.

I want you to be one of my minions.

It's the gateway to the top of the heap.

You put on a good front, but you're miserable.

Don't you think any of that has anything to do with the fact that you've created an atmosphere based solely on negativity and raw ambition?

Can we talk for real for a second, please?

I mean, you're so confident without being mean. What antidepressants are you on?

Don't you see that all that's happened isn't a crisis? It's an opportunity.

Yeah, no, I tried. See, I really tried. But all of this flowery, peace-on-Earth crap, it makes me want to puke.

You haven't even seen half of what I'm capable of!

Totally spit in your coffee, bitch.

I don't mean to be a contrarian, but I'm enjoying this.

Is that killer noises or am I hallucinating?

I'm gonna ask one more time, will you speak up?

What can you tell us about the murder?

There's an exodus right now.

The risks are real, but we need to close ranks.

I don't feel comfortable with a man protecting me. It's representative of the patriarchal, post-colonial culture that encourages violence against women.

We buy a pig and feed it the body. Pigs will eat anything.

Don't go skating on those poop lagoons, because if you fall in, you'll drown in the poop and come springtime, there'll be nothing left of your body.

Here's what you should do. Pulverize her teeth, burn off her fingerprints, and disfigure her face. Once her body is unrecognizable, we can create an incision on her inner thigh and drain out all of her bodily fluids. That'll give us more time to deconstruct the body.

Truly grinding down a body takes a lot of work. You need a really good food processor, and you run the risk of fouling the plumbing, which is why you should only do it if you know how to clear out meat and bones from a drain pipe.

I'm willing to help in any way possible.

You're obviously a psychopath and those ideas are insane!

Why are you trying to terrify us?

Can I call you Mom?

I feel so loved and protected by all of you.

Actually, it's a new pop culture trend where young women desperately in need of role models call other girls they look up to Mom.

I thought you'd be cool with it.

I mean, I did just give you several ways to dispose of a body.

Okay, fine. Just stop talking.

You are so friggin' creepy!

Someone just mowed off a deaf girl's head in our backyard.

I mean, as you can see, I'm not licensed to carry a sidearm.

Wait, so you don't have a gun?

I have pepper spray. And I have a walkie talkie that I can use to call the police, who do have guns.

What good are you?

Get the hell out of there. Run away, real fast.

Now, I would give you my number, but my cell phone is off right now.

If you want the place clean, maybe you shouldn't have burned the maid's face off.

Don't you wonder what's in there?

People have been whispering about that house for years, that it's haunted, that something really bad happened. I mean, there's no way there isn't some real-life story behind it, right?

I'm gonna have to break in.

I mean, I don't think anyone's gonna get killed in the 30 minutes we make out, right?

Can you stop talking?

You're kind of ruining whatever was good about it.

Please try to understand the situation I'm in.

I don't give a rat's ass about your job.

You know, I find good parenting incredibly attractive.

You're a snoopy little bugger.

Whose bloody clothes are those?

Supposedly, it was a super fun party.

We're all gonna pay for this.

I think it's all crap. Just a myth.

What happened to the baby?

Sometimes I picture myself like Derek Jeter, you know?

I'm gonna choke you out.

There's a serial killer on the loose.

Please don't say you want to choke me.

I'd love having sex with your corpse.

I'm sorry. This isn't working for me.

Well, I sort of am your boyfriend, and I'm protecting you by having sex with you.

No! I don't need a man to protect me.

How could I have wasted this much time?

Is my self-esteem really that low?

I'm sorry. I think we need to take a break.

I need you to leave right now!

You know, it would really help me feel better if I could just crawl into bed with you for a few minutes.

Are you gonna touch my wiener, or you gonna leave my wiener alone?

I'll leave your wiener alone.

Where are your hands?

He has a huge boner!

Why don't you go in there and ogle his big old boner?

Okay, uh, first of all, I'm not gonna go ogle his big old boner, because I'm not gay.

Look, I'm sorry everybody wants to have sex with me. Okay? I can't help that.

I'm hot. Everybody wants to get with this. Women, men, animals in the zoo, plants, probably.

You're gonna have to go right now, 'cause I am breaking up with you.

Excuse me, I broke up with you!

I regretted what I said, and I just wanted to come here and tell you that I am so sorry.

Well, I accept your apology. And now I'm breaking up with you.

Do you know why I'm breaking up with you?

You can't deal with how hot I am.

Sorry, I just broke up with you.

Can you please put some clothes on?

Um, they said, uh, I shouldn't be alone, you know, in case I fall asleep and die.

Can I just get you a robe or something though?

So you're saying I'm the killer?

Okay, this isn't about me thinking you're boyfriend material.

God, I was so gonna go to third base with you tonight, too.

What if we stapled their earlobes?

Private like the parts on a man you like putting in your mouth?

I want to publicly come out as gay on my own.

I mean, you guys have to accept everybody, right?

I actually think that's illegal.

I will come after you, do you understand that? I will destroy you.

I trust you'll consider my offer.

Name one bad thing that ever happened at a Best Buy parking lot.

You're just, like, super attractive.

Um, well, I was trying to be inconspicuous.

It's better than losing your life.

I have a thing for playlists.

Someone's got a poo belly.

Sweet Yeezus, I don't even know where to begin with you.

Bitch, I'm about to smack you so hard, your tampon's gonna pop out.

I heard screaming.

So you think the serial killer is still up there?

Upstairs to get the killer before he gets away!

You just said that you think the killer is up there, and that's where you want to go?

This is freakin' terrifying!

The killer is in the house! You hear me?

I need my damn inhaler.

What, am I supposed to be scared?

Don't even come out. We plan on getting drunk, and I don't want your bad attitude ruining it.

We're headed down to White Stallion to pick up some sluts, baby!

Yes, okay, I burned her slightly, but stop saying that I killed her.

That was a tragic accident.

I am a kind and devoted and loving friend to all.

I'm not some crazed psychopath.

Maybe you're the killer.

I will not be put on trial.

The truth is we don't know who the killer is, and, yes, I suppose it could be someone in this room.

You want to go first?

I banged, like, 50 chicks.

What took you so long?

[calamity-bean]

Notes: Barkskins Q&A

Barkskins fans! Today (6/28/20), American Cinematheque hosted a Barkskins Q&A webinar with creator Elwood Reid and cast members Marcia Gay Harden (Mathilde Geffard), Christian Cooke (Rene Sel), and David Thewlis (Claude Trepagny). Elwood, Marcia, and Christian were on the call live, while David was interviewed beforehand and his responses recorded. Topics discussed included: 

The show’s general scope and the adaptation process

Historical research

Accent coaching

Colonialism and the portrayal of First Nations characters/cultures

Sets and wardrobe

An audience question for Marcia about Mathilde’s daughter

An audience question for Christian about Rene’s physical/action scenes

Here I’m sharing a summary of the notes I took during the talk. This isn’t a transcript and I didn’t write down everything, but I tried to note interesting things as accurately as I was able. Please pardon any misinterpretations or errors; I did the best I could, but if you remember something differently (or have something to add), feel free to let me know.

This got quite long... Lots of notes below!

The Show in General

First, the big one: the show has not yet been renewed for a second season, but Elwood is hopeful! He feels like season 1 just barely “set the table” for the story, only to yank the tablecloth off right at the end, and he wants more seasons so that viewers can really dig into the meal. It was always planned as multi-season, and right now he’s just hoping that there’s been a good enough viewing and that people talk enough about the show.

The season was originally slated for ten episodes, but had to be cut to nine and then to eight due to the weather changing and due to the time necessary to construct sets. 

The book was considered to be a huge challenge to adapt -- almost unadaptable. Initially, Elwood had ideas for doing a generational / time-skip structure like in the novel, where each season would start over and focus on a new time period; however, one of the main reasons he scrapped that idea was because of the cast. He really adores the whole cast and is excited to write more stories for these actors rather than switching focus to new characters. 

In general, the show was repeatedly described as being essentially about “haves” versus “have-nots” -- who are the “haves,” who are the “have-nots,” what do they want and what are they willing to do in order to become a “have.” It is also a show in which every character (except Rene, initially) has a secret and everyone has something they want that they can’t have.

Also, things such as which characters live/die will not be beholden to what happens in the book.

Historical and Character Research

Marcia and Christian have both read the entire book. Since Mathilde wasn’t in the novel, Marcia called up Elwood with a lot of ideas for how to develop the character, although in the end Mathilde became someone much gravelly, crass, and more conniving than she had initially expected. Christian was very impressed by the scope and uniqueness of the story and found Rene’s simple worldview appealing, describing Rene as a man of the forest, a man of the land, with desires that are simple but meaningful and noble: a better life, prosperity, a piece of his own land.

David read about the first hundred pages, and his initial idea of Trepagny was as someone much tougher and more physically imposing, as portrayed in the book. He then had to work to shed that preconception of the character into the very different Trepagny of the script. He described Trepagny as a man of contradictions: Is he good or bad? Charming or obnoxious? Vulnerable or a bully? Does he live in a cabin or a mansion? Does he worship a god / dual god or a rotten old log? Is he delusional or is he a visionary?

Primary source materials from the period that Elwood used in his historical research include the accounts of Jesuit missionaries, business ledgers describing trade and commerce, and a few memoirs from filles du roi. However, he found it difficult to find primary sources, especially in English, and was careful to remember that these accounts always had a French/colonial bias.

Marcia did a LOT of research on her own in order to better understand what conditions in France might have driven the Geffards to leave. She asked herself, “Why the hell would anyone leave France to come to these mosquito-filled woods with ostensibly hostile First Nations people and English? What was going on in that moment BEFORE they came over?”

Christian didn’t do much historical research but rooted his character in terms of the physical research he did, such as learning woodcutting. He said Rene came from a rural area of northern France and was a woodsman there as well. 

Accent Coaching

Marcia said they did receive accent coaching, but they didn’t want to lean too hard into strong accents because they wanted to give the impression that the French characters were speaking French, which, as their native language, would be very fluid. So it was okay to not have a heavy accent in order to better communicate that effect.

It was also okay for everyone to have different takes on the French accent, because they wanted to give the effect that these characters were coming from all different parts of France and each had their own individual background. They felt that communicating the characters was more important than getting the accents entirely correct.

They likewise had Native actors speak English on screen when their characters were talking among themselves (even when the characters should be understood as not speaking English) so that the audience would get that same impression of fluidity, cleverness, and colloquial conversation.

Colonialism: "Whose perspective are we bringing to bear? Whose story are we telling?”

Elwood acknowledged that Americans tend to be bad about looking outside their own history and that societies with a history of colonizing tend to come up with justifications for why it was okay for them to invade and colonize others. They wanted the show to avoid reinforcing that idea and to not sugarcoat the reality of it.

He mentioned the importance of having Migizi Pensoneau’s voice in the writer’s room. They also made an effort to speak with tribal communities and leaders in the area in order to gain their insight.

Elwood also hit on the effect of the Western film genre (as in cowboy Westerns) in shaping stereotypes about Native Americans and exporting these stereotypes to the rest of the world. Wanted to avoid those stereotypes (bc they’re inaccurate anyway and bc Barkskins takes place in the eastern part of the continent, not the western, and in an earlier time period) and in general to avoid portraying indigenous people as a uniform/interchangeable monoculture.

Marcia highlighted efforts to foreground First Nations characters in front of the camera as well, specifically mentioning Yvon and Mari. She mentioned that Yvon was educated at Harvard and that Mari’s father was French.

Sets and Wardrobe

This was my favorite section because I love this stuff and it was very impressive! Elwood basically gushed about how the production designer (Isabelle Guay), costume designer (Anna Terrazas), and wig maker were invaluable to the show. I tried to record the wig maker’s name, but I was going by ear, and I couldn’t find any search results that seemed right based on the spellings I tried. He was a Montreal area wig maker whose name sounded like (but I am sure is not spelled like) “Ray-jean For-jay.”

Isabelle Guay is local to the area and was in charge of building all the sets. She scouted all the areas personally and paid close attention to period details in construction. Authenticity was very important to Nat Geo; it had to look good and feel real.

Most of the costumes were not existing pieces that the show rented or reused; Anna Terrazas wanted to build as much as possible from scratch herself. She and the other costumers dyed deerskins, found period 17th- and 18th-century fabrics to make garments out of, and even hand built shoes.

Likewise, although it would have been cheaper to get okay-looking wigs premade, the wig maker wanted to make high-quality authentic ones himself. He flew to the actors, measured their heads, bought hair in France, and then constructed all the wigs himself.

Marcia on how the costume informed her character: Anna gave her a leather pouch to hang on a belt around her waist. It was filled with lavender, the idea being that Mathilde kept this lavender close to counter the foul smells of Wobik. Marcia viewed it as a “little secret” to draw on in her acting.

Christian found the costumes surprisingly comfortable/immersive and the landscape very awe-inspiring.

The moodboard for Trepagny’s wardrobe/aesthetic included pictures of Nick Cave and Jimi Hendrix.

Mathilde’s Daughter

Marcia was asked how much of the details about Mathilde’s daughter were of her own invention. She said that everything said on screen about Veronique was straight from the script, but she came up with more herself in order to inform her acting.

Marcia imagines that Veronique probably died from a sickness, perhaps something like whooping cough that to many of us today wouldn’t seem so serious but which would be more fatal in that era.

This is the point at which Elwood blindsided Marcia, me, and everybody else by talking about a scene he had been “obsessed” with a planned scene in which Renardette would go down to a room below the inn and find Veronique’s preserved body hidden down there, covered in her own dresses. Ultimately, Elwood felt that this was “too gothic” and that it wouldn’t work for Mathilde in a season of only 8 episodes, because it would too quickly take the audience’s understanding of her to a very bizarre/dark place.

He defended the idea by saying that it wasn’t uncommon at the time for people to do things like that, i.e. keep a loved one’s remains for a period of time. (I will take your word for it, Elwood. Also, I’m totally ready for you to go full gothic on this show, please follow your weird impulses in the future.) Marcia, though, felt that it wouldn’t make sense for a character as pragmatic as Mathilde. She pointed out that Francis is the one who wants things like refinements, whereas Mathilde is much more practical.

Also, I was today years old when I learned that Lola Reid (Renardette) is showrunner Elwood Reid’s daughter. In my defense, it’s not an uncommon last name.

Christian on Rene

Christian was asked about the physical aspects of playing Rene, such as chopping wood, fighting, swimming, etc., and which were most difficult and which most enjoyable. He said that he loved those aspects; he would get immersed in the physical act so much that he would forget he was acting. He could get very emotional in those intense moments and found it very difficult to come out of those scenes because of how emotionally charged they were (such as when watching character deaths) but also found it very enjoyable in a cathartic way.

Elwood said that he thought Christian had the hardest role because Rene is a stoic person who has to hold the screen with very few words. It was at this point that he talked about all the characters having secrets and something they want but can’t have; he pointed out that Rene is the only character who doesn’t have a secret and whose wants and needs are very simple. This makes his character “like a rock” that other characters try to pick up and bash around but can’t figure out what to do with.

In light of that, Elwood felt that this first season was a slow burn for Rene, but that the future focus of the character’s arc is essentially: What’s the breaking point of a man like that? What will make him crack? What will make him act out of his character?

He said it was also similar for James Bloor (Charles Duquet) because he had to take so much abuse in this first season, with Elwood assuring James that it was building toward a big future payoff.

In conclusion...

Aaand that’s all I’ve got! We are all encouraged to keep talking about the show and to make known our desire for a second season. Thanks for reading, and like I said, let me know if you have anything to add or to correct.

[myfandomrambles]

Am I the only one who doesn’t find Hordak sympathetic?

Like I feel bad that he was abused by his father/brother figure nobody should be. I can understand that his trauma is real and obviously not should ever feel that. 

But after everything, I can’t find him a really sympathetic villain or antagonist. I don’t feel like he is someone who has even just fallen so hard into his abuse and pain he’s lashing out. Because this many years on he should be at least able to not hurt others, even if he’s still suffering. 

Like I just look at him and think “Some people are child-abusing colonial imperialists, to cope?”

Because being traumatized and disabled (also ableism much?) doesn’t make it okay to hurt other people so much. He’s a grown adult who’s been away from the system that abused him for years. He can actually have made a different choice since then, he could have decided to not be an abusive imperialist entitled man. He didn’t though. I’m not saying be healed, or all okay now. I’m saying maybe abusive victims don’t all become fascists? Like even IRL former child soldiers have been adults who didn’t continue to do that? 

So I think it’s odd that people try and use that as a trump card. 

This applies to Catra too, but people seem more willing to call out Catra, who deserve it, but it’s just true that Catra has caused the same amount, well less considering the time and children, damage then Hordak. She has been a force for great harm, and I think deserves to be criticised. But the idea people seem more angry at her for betraying Hordak then him ya know raising her as a child soldier doesn’t make sense to me. 

Hell people seem to be calling Glimmer out for yelling at her friends twice and being willing to look into using a weapon to kick out the colonialists and return the resources (magic) that previous colonialists took from her people. 

And having a crush on Entrapta, and losing her doesn’t erase that.

What he’s done:

Like Hordak is so close to real-world imperialist and abuser. He's done so many things just like those real people:

He made a deal with one group of indigenous people to get a foothold.

Went back on this and stripped that group of all their resources & stole/bought their child.

Destroyed said groups connection to heritage and culture, including destroying the government.

Ripps resources from the whole planet, we saw these vegetation-less swaths of land.

His camp throws up pollution and leached poison to the ground. 

Takes children whose family they usually killed (calls them war orphans) and raises them as child soldiers.

He has those kids raised by someone he knows is a horribly abusive person. This is part of his process of making them into child soldiers and easily manipulated.

Seems to have forced adults into the army.

Uses other people for his own ego.

Wants to take over this whole planet for the “Horde”, like for king and country.

Destroyers peoples homes, burning buildings and pushes people of their towns. 

Has turned people into people refuges many times. 

Occupies territory and puts any people there under his control if they are not kicked out. 

With the black garnet, he is willing to kill the entire forest killing what people use as their home and at least Perfuma’s people used for food. 

Uses his own manipulation to try and keep people in line. Creating an atmosphere of fear and a need to not be a “failure”

Wants to take over the whole place with no regard for people’s lives in his own army.

Sends people to Beast Island, where we know people die and uses this to scare people.

With Catra he uses her own issues and history with Shadow Weaver to control her and make her what he hopes is a manipulatable second i command. 

Suffocates her till she passes out in retaliation and then sends her to die in the Crimson Wastes.

Takes all the credit for a war won by Catra, Entrapta’s tech and before them Shadow Weaver. Like I mean who wants to own up to being a space dictator, but it is still such entitled behaviour. 

Realises the person he taught to be cruel and lie, like did it too and has the audacity to be hurt And attack her. My dude your the one who uses Beast Island in the first place, and who hurts people who are honest with you.

Sells all the people who worked for him out to Horde Prime, who we know isn’t going to give a fuck for all the people in the horde army who got him to this point. Or anyone else Including Entrapta and Catra. Giving the planet over to him will get all the Etherians possible, colonized, subjugated, enslaved, killed or who knows what. But not anything good.

How can you read that and be like but he experienced trauma and/or but he liked Entrapta so he’s sympathetic? 

Now let’s look more at Entrapta For sec:

He isn’t even actually very nice to her for one thing and is using her. But more so even if he does “love” her I don’t care? I don’t think it's cute he blushes, I don’t think it’s sad he's sad, because an abusive terrible warmonger can love one person and still be bad. Plenty of awful people had wives (or husbands) and were still awful. Loving one person doesn’t make you cute or a better person. 

Entrapta isn’t my favourite character, but honesty she deserves someone who doesn’t think she’s one of the good inferior people from their nowhere planet.

Conclusion: 

Does everything really think he’s sympathetic? Like people seem more sympathetic towards him then Glimmer now. I don’t understand, I really don’t.

Though I will admit that I don't find him very enjoyable as a villain in the first place in the last two seasons. He strikes me as painfully normal kind of evil, he doesn’t have fun powers and doesn’t even seem to have fun with being bad. If your gonna be a bad person like have some panache, and don’t come across as such binal evil. So I guess that could be part of why. If your gonna be a purely bad person, I’d like them to be having some fun or be more fantastical.

So yeah I don’t get this fandom’s view on Hordak. 

[hiding-in-my-happy-place]

Wayward Son alt. ending

If anyone else is still hung up on the ending of Wayward Son, and just wants Simon and Baz to just finally have a god damn moment, I wrote an alternate ending 

Every time Baz or Simon is written in bold followed by a colon the perspective changes. (Major spoilers for Wayward Son)

Baz:

“Why can’t you see that I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you?” 

He sits back like I’ve slapped him. 

“Simon....” I whisper.

I wait for him to get it. To finally give in to it. 

Or maybe to say I‘ve passed the test.

Instead he shakes his head. “Baz....” His voice is barely there. 

Simon:

He called me Simon. He called me Simon and it nearly broke my heart. 

How can he be happy with me? With this superhero turned fuck up? Doesn’t he understand? 

“Snow....” He shakes his head. “This whole trip...” His voice is trembling. His voice is breaking. 

“This whole trip has been bloody awful, but it’s been...” He looks down at his hands, his voice is soft. He’s holding back tears. 

I want so desperately to reach out and tell him everything will be alright. I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him into me. I want to be close to him. Why can I only get close to him when adrenaline pumps through my veins and I’ve just won a battle? Why can’t I get close to him now? When his heart is breaking and I can see him cracking and all I want is to reach out for him... 

He looks up from his hands and his eyes meet mine and their soft and dark and deep. I want to fall into his eyes. Why can’t I just get close? 

“It’s been so-” he pauses, and reaches out gently for my hand. 

Baz:

He sucks in a breath the second my hand touches his and I think I’ve lost him. I think I’ve let this moment slip right through my fingers. I shouldn’t have pushed. I saw the way he drew back when I told him I wanted this (This...), I should have known not to reach for more.

Simon:

His palm is cool and smooth and it makes me desperate for more. For more skin, for more touch, for more Baz. 

I push through whatever it is holding me back. I use all my strength and all my energy to push through whatever wall it is that has been built up between us. I slide towards him. 

Baz:

He moves closer. Closer, until we touch, toes to knees to hips to shoulder. Closer until I can feel his warmth, his heat. Closer. 

“Simon...” My voice is just air, light and floating. 

“Baz...” His voice is thick, shaking.

I press my shoulder hard into his. I stare at our hands, fingers laced together. I can feel him here, I can feel him close. I turn my head so I can look into his eyes. 

“This. It’s been this.” I say, hoping he understands me because I don’t know how else to say it. Because I don’t know how to tell him that this whole trip has dragged me through hell but I would do it all again just to be pressed against the convertible and kissed by him. I don’t know how to tell him I would do it all again just so I could lie in the back of a pickup truck with him, just so I could feel his lips, feel his heart, his heat. Feel him. Close. 

“And this is?” His voice is a murmur, and his eyes are wide. He’s a small child begging for more

“Good. This is good,” I squeeze his hand. “God, Snow, this--this--when you’re here, when we’re here” He dips his head forward so he’s no longer looking at me. I reach out with my other hand and place my fingers lightly on his chin. I tilt his head back up so I can see his eyes. His big wide scared eyes. “This is only good.”

Simon:

His shoulder presses into mine and I feel the wall begin to crumble. His fingers wind their way through mine and the crack gets larger. His voice drops soft and he pulls me towards him, presses himself against me, stares into my eyes and tells me I’m good, that this is good, that we’re good, and the wall crashes down around me. My lungs feel like they’ve broken free from my ribs, the hand wrapped tight around my throat lets me go. And adrenaline pumps through my veins. 

I want to be close. I want to pull him into me. I want to tell him he’s good. I want to be with him, on him, close to him. I want him. 

Baz. 

I want it, so I take it. 

Baz:

He leans forward fast and quick. His lips meet mine with force, with urgency. He’s desperate. I’m desperate. 

This. 

This is only good. 

His hand finds its way around the back of my neck. He pulls me closer, pulls me tighter, pulls me in. into him. Into Simon. Simon. 

I break away to catch my breath. He pulls me close. He presses his forehead against mine, his hand is still on the back of my neck. We’re both panting. Our eyes are sparkling. 

“Simon...” My heart falls. Just gaining enough space to breath reminds me of all that’s still left to be said. All that still needs to be said. He glances away. I can feel this fading. I can see him retreating. I can’t let him retreat. I think I’ll die if I go back to being far away from Simon Snow. “Why can’t it always be like this?” I plead. “Why do we have to be on the brink of the world ending for you to kiss me?” 

Simon:

His voice is wounded. I’m the one who’s wounded it. I’m the one who's gone and screwed it all up. But for once that doesn’t make me want to run. I’m the one who hurt him, but I don’t have to keep hurting him. If I can get close to him, close like this... If I can kiss him, kiss him like this... If I could just talk to him... If I could just tell him... I want to. 

With our foreheads pressed together, I’m staring down are our hands, still twisted together. I want them to stay that way. I can make them stay that way if I try. 

I can feel the tightness growing back in my chest. I don’t know how to tell him anything and I don't know why. I don’t want to lose this. My throat is tight, as if I’ve swallowed an ocean of salt water, as if I’ve held back a year of tears. I probably have. 

He shifts, pulls his head back. No. Don’t leave me. I pull at the back of his neck. 

“No.” I pull harder. “Please, no.”

“Simon...” Simon. 

“Please stay.” My voice cracks and then the dam breaks and a year of tears, the entire ocean of salt water, breaks free. I’m gasping for air, sobbing. I collapse into his chest, still pulling at his neck, still begging him not to leave. “Please.” 

Baz:

He collapses into my arms and it takes me a second to process he’s crying. Have I ever seen the great Simon Snow cry? I pull him into me. “Shhhh, Shhhh” 

“Please” He murmurs again through thick ugly tears. 

“Shhh, It’s okay, it’s okay” Is it? Is any of this okay? Merlin, I love this boy. I want it to be easy. But easy is bullshit. Simon is never easy. I want him to be happy, but Simon is barely happy either. And yet, this? His sobbing into my chest, it feels more like progress than a smile ever could. It feels real. Like he’s letting it all in, finally. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur. I run my hand through his hair, thick and overgrown. His beautiful beautiful hair, left unkempt by a year of depression. How beautiful it still is. How beautiful he still is. “I’m not going anywhere, golden boy, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He takes a deep breath. It’s shaky, but stabilizing. “Baz?” 

“I’m here.” How is it possible for him to fill me up with so much hope and love just by saying my name. Please, please don’t close back up. Stay. Stay, like I’m staying for you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It’s so small I barely catch it. It’s soft and broken, and it breaks me. It crumbles my heart. 

“I’m so sorry, Baz.” His voice breaks again, so I squeeze his hand, still wrapped in mine. 

“Shhhh” I murmur back. 

He pulls away from my chest, in slow motion, as if to reassure me he’s not going anywhere far, just far enough away to look at me. But still, my heart jumps into my throat, worried I’ve lost him again. 

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from his eyes and cheeks and scrapes the back of his palm across his nose. He looks flushed, the way he does after a battle and I wonder if this is its own kind of battle. He doesn’t look at me, instead he fixes his eyes onto our hands. 

“I don’t,” he starts, and he’s still speaking so soft, but I don’t dare interrupt him. “I don’t know why I can’t.” 

The words hang in the air for a long moment. It’s probably only a second by time feels weighted now. “Can’t what?” I ask, afraid my question will scare him away. 

“I don’t know why it can’t always be like this. I don’t know why I can’t,” His voice breaks again and he takes a breath. “Be like this, always.”

I can feel my heart beating hard against my rib cage. 

“I want to be like this. I want to be near you,” He’s crying again, though this time just pools and pools of tears he rubs away quickly from his eyes. No sobs or shaking breath. “I’m trying.” 

I want to tell him I know he is. But I don’t. I’ve never known if he is. “You are?” 

He nods his head like a lost little kid, terrified of the great big world around him. I don’t blame him at all. If I had lived the life of Simon Snow, I’d be terrified too. 

“Snow-”

“Simon.” 

He looks up at me when he says it. His own name. 

Simon:

His eyebrows pull together, a look of confusion crosses his face. Baz is so rarely caught off guard that I almost want to take a moment to savor it. 

“Simon..?” He says it like it’s a whole new name, one that has never been said before. It’s heavy on his lips and twisted up with questions, but still it makes me swoon to hear him call me Simon. Simon. 

“I like it when you call me Simon.” I feel my cheeks flush red and I glance down fast, away from his face to our hands. 

“Oh.” My eyes flash up to meet his. His eyebrows have unfurrowed and he’s smiling. It’s small, not a big grin or anything, Baz doesn’t smile like that. His eyes go soft and his mouth turns slightly and he seems warm. Like he’s somehow managed to to make his own blood again. 

I open my mouth, about to ask if that's okay, but he cuts me off. 

“Simon.” It’s sweet and sing-songy. I didn't know Baz could sound like that. “Simon.” I feel my cheeks flush even darker. He reaches out and strokes a soft smooth thumb across them. When he moves to pull his hand away I catch it and hold it snug in place. 

“Baz...” I feel my heart soaring. I can do this. I can tell him what I want. I can ask him to stay. I can cry. I can let him in and when I do he doesn’t run. He smiles and he calls me Simon and he cups my face in his hand. 

“Simon...” 

And I want him. I want this. I want more. I love him. I’m in love with Tyrannus Basilton Pitch. 

“I wish I could be better.” I force myself to maintain eye contact. I stare deep into his eyes andI’m surprised that I find comfort. How many times have I glanced away from him when I was terrified to face him? Could I have found this deep warm comfort every time if I had just looked at him? 

Baz:

Oh My golden boy, how heartbroken you are. How scared. But you’re looking at me. You’re looking straight into my eyes, you’re letting me touch you. You’re letting me be near to you. 

“You’re getting better, Simon. If we can have more of this...” 

He leans into me, brushing my hand away from his cheek to kiss me. It’s not deep like the last one, or desperate. It's soft and sweet and gentle. I didn't know Simon could kiss like this. I didn’t know it could be wrapped up in a quiet soft moment like this one. I didn’t know he could feel warm instead of hot, slow instead of full speed. I didn't know....

He pulls back, but it doesn’t feel like he’s going to leave. It feels like he is giving me space to speak. Space to kiss him back. Space so that he can smile the way he’s smiling now, a big wide Simon Snow Golden Boy smile. And god I love him. I love this boy. 

“I am?” He looks giddy. Like I’ve told him he’s won the lottery. 

“Yes...” and I let my response get cut off by another soft gentle kiss. This time, though, I don’t know who leans in first. It feels mutual, like we’re moving with one mind. It feels natural. Easy. 

He smiles against my lips and cups my cheek in his warm soft hand. We break apart but he leaves his hand there, pressed against me. He’s beaming and his eyes are sparkling. 

“Simon,” I say it drawn out slightly so he can revel in it. I’ll never call him snow again, if calling him simon makes him smile like that. If only I had known that calling him Simon was the key to his heart. 

But this time he shakes his head. At first I’m worried I’ve done something wrong, but he’s still smiling. 

“What?” My nerves force a small laugh out of my lips as I speak. 

“It’s like, I’ve been trying to get here for a whole year and suddenly- I just I’ve wanted to tell you- It’s been such a long year and I’ve been trying to get-” He cuts himself off with a similar nervous laugh. He’s not looking at me. His head is bent. He shakes his free hand through his hair and I can tell his cheeks are bright scarlett. He takes a deep breath, interrupted again by half laugh, over before it’s even started. He looks up and stares deep into my eyes and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me like that? 

“Basilton, I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you.” 

Simon:

His eyes grow wide and his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something. My heart flutters in my chest and I think I might puke. 

“Baz!” Someone shouts, cutting the moment directly in half. 

I snap my head in the direction of the voice and find Penelope running towards us. She’s out of breath, her whole face lit with horror. I jump to my feet but I glance back at Baz and see that it’s still sitting looking at where I just was, as if Penny hasn’t just run at us. As if she isn’t acting like she just escaped a dragon. 

“Simon,” she reaches us and bends in half, resting her hands on her knees while she pants to catch her breath. 

“What? What is it?” Baz seems to register the fear in my voice and snaps out of his daze. He sees Penny, focuses in on her shaking hands and trembling voice,  and jumps to his feet as well. 

“There’s trouble at Watford. We have to go home—now.” 

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

Alrighty. Time to type up my surgery and recovery experience. 

When I got my pacemaker two years ago, I spent a year (almost exactly) drawing a comic called Change of Pace, which helped me kinda process what happened to me. You can read the comic here if you’re interested. It’s largely all true, aside from the love story part. Tsk.

I don’t think I’m going to be drawing out this experience. It was completely different. I’ve been expecting a surgery of this nature since I was nineteen, when I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. So, in a way, this stint in the hospital was harder, more personal. The pacemaker was an emergency. The colon resection was some time coming. Not as much trauma, really. Not as much confusion about what was happening and why. But I still feel like telling the story, purging it from my mind. 

I was scheduled for surgery on Monday, the 18th of November. I took off work that Friday so I could have my pre-op bloodwork done and I also took off Sunday so I could start the colon prep. If you don’t know what a colon prep is, God bless you. You basically drink a crap ton (lol) of laxative and spend all night pooping until you poop clear. The easiest version is the Miralax version. If you have to have a colonoscopy, ask for the Miralax. I promise, you don’t want the Go-Lightly.

The day before prep, my friend took me climbing in Memphis to keep my mind off of things. We also went to IKEA. It was helpfully distracting. I had Swedish meatballs. 

I was meant to “technically” start the prep at midnight Saturday by not eating anything until surgery on Monday. Beginning to drink the Miralax sometime around noon on Sunday. I didn’t get that far. 

I got righteously sick Saturday night. My back was killing me and I was very nauseous and dizzy. I knew what was going on even before I started throwing up. I had a bowel obstruction. The second one in my life. I’d had one once before in March and jeeze. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I’m not sure if every bowel obstruction feels the same way, but mine certainly did. If you find yourself having these symptoms, please go to the ER. Bowel obstructions are no joke. You can go septic, which is incredibly dangerous. 

Nausea, feeling like you’re going to pass out, vomiting bile, severely upset stomach, cold sweats, and my back was aching something awful. I assume it was because my stomach was cramping so badly, my back muscles were spasming.  

I live with my mother. Have done since I’ve been getting sick so regularly. I woke her up and she took me to the hospital. 

The first time I had a bowel obstruction, I thought something was wrong with my heart. (The cold sweats, the nausea.) They rushed me to the back immediately. This time, I knew it was an obstruction, not my heart, and I said as much. They don’t tend to be in as much of a hurry when you don’t mention your heart. Didn’t realize that. I’m also not entirely sure they were convinced I did have a bowel obstruction. I’m sure plenty of people walk into an ER saying random stuff for random reasons, but yeah. I was very slowly processed. I remember them taking my blood pressure and because it wasn’t high at all, I imagine they thought I was full of shit. Figuratively, not literally. Because I was, literally. Whatever. 

My blood pressure normally runs very low. I can also take a lot of pain, because I’m on a first name basis with pain. They didn’t take my pain seriously because my blood pressure wasn’t high, I guess. Not my fault I’m a badass.

I sat in the waiting room until I started vomiting bile again. I also pooped all over myself in the processes. Which I didn’t think you could do if you were obstructed, but you live and you learn! 

That’s when they got in a hurry. I was making a huge mess. 

They got me a paper gown and I cleaned myself up as best as I could before the CAT scan, which proved I was, in fact, obstructed. 

So there I was, in the ER, very very early on the Sunday morning before my surgery Monday. I was admitted and my doctor contacted. Since the surgery was so close at hand, they agreed it was best to wait until the scheduled time to do the surgery. I’d stopped vomiting so there was no need for an NG tube this time. Those things suck.

Got admitted. Got a room. Tried to sleep. My surgeon came in and we talked. Got everything situated. At one point my mother told me there was a girl down the hall who’d just had a colon resection if I wanted to talk to her. She was sitting int he hallway with her sisters, eating her dinner. Poor thing had been in the hospital for almost a month. 

I spoke with her a bit. I’m not entirely sure what happened. Whether it was nerves or if I was hurting, but I almost passed out in the hallway. I hadn’t experienced anything of that nature since I had my pacemaker put in. The whole point of the pacemaker was to prevent me from passing out altogether. But I didn’t pass out so...I suppose that means it’s working?

I also pooped on myself that night while I slept. First time that’d ever happened. It was then I knew that I’d literally gone as long as I could before I needed surgery. I couldn’t wait any more. I’d been so stressed out over in the idea that I maybe didn’t need the surgery. That I was being pitiful and my case wasn’t that bad. I could tough it out if I really wanted. I realized what a dumbass I was for thinking those thoughts, but hindsight is 20/20. 

Monday dawned and surgery rolled around. Took forever. I was basically watching the clock tick the minutes by until transport fetched me. I was wheeled down to pre-op where they gave me a hair net. I don’t remember getting a hair net for the pacemaker surgery. 

I signed some paperwork and a lady told me she was going to get me ready. She said she was going to give me a nerve block in my stomach. I was like, “Cool, right on.” Until I saw the needle. 

Holy fuck. That needle. 

“You’re going to give me that when I’m asleep, right?”

“I’m going to give you some ‘I don’t care’ juice.” 

“Oh, thank God. I probably won’t remember this then.” 

“Probably not.” 

In went the ‘I don’t care’ juice. I got really dizzy. 

They swabbed my belly with iodine. 

They prepped the needle. 

I was still very much awake. 

I said, “Guys...” Because at this point there were several people standing over me. Like five. “...I’m still cognizant.” 

Yeah, I used the word cognizant. That’s how fucking cognizant I was. 

Not sure if they heard me. Or if they replied. I was really dizzy. 

In went the needle. 

And ow. OW. 

In went the needle again. One stick on each side of my belly. 

The ‘I don’t care’ juice must have been working in some way because while I remember the pain, I don’t remember the panic. I certainly would have panicked if I didn’t have that juice pumping through me. So that was a thing. 

I fell asleep soon thereafter. Couldn’t have been like...a minute earlier? Really? 

I remember waking up in recovery with the pacemaker. I remember the pressure, the nurse asking me questions. I remember being wheeled back to my room. I don’t remember jack shit about recovery after the colon resection. I don’t remember being wheeled back to my room. I apparently asked for my mom, but I don’t remember doing that either. 

I do remember, however, turning over on my side. Because ouch. But I did it anyway and kept doing it because I’m a determined asshole. Monday night was very hazy. I was high as fuck, probably. 

Tuesday: Not a good day. I was in a lot of pain. They gave me hydros, but the hydros weren’t touching it. Felt like I was taking Tylenol. And I have a very very VERY low tolerance for pain meds. They wouldn’t give me any morphine because my blood pressure was too low. (Again, badass?? Maybe?? IDK man my blood pressure just runs really low.) Which makes sense, because that’s dangerous, but I was in agony. I begged for morphine. I pleaded with the nurse to give me morphine. She would not. 

My mother got angry. I’m not one to complain. And my threshold for pain is admittedly pretty stout. I was hurting and no one was doing anything to help. My mother got ANGRY. 

I think they must’ve finally given me some morphine, but I don’t remember. Morphine also didn’t help. Didn’t even make a dent in the pain I was feeling. They kept giving me hydros every couple of hours to no avail. I remember I asked for a heating pad for my back. Barely. The nurse did give me one, but said I could only have it for an hour? Very fuzzy.

The tech forgot to...do something with my catheter because my urine got everywhere. The nurse that found me like that called the floor manager. I hated to, but I did report that my pain wasn’t kept in check. I was hurting so badly I actually reported one of the nurses. The one that wouldn’t give me morphine. I felt horrible about it, but I was also nearly in tears I hurt so bad. 

Hell, the pain was so intense at one point my mother called my family. Like, they thought something was wrong. Very very wrong. The doctor called for some kind of scan while I was in bed. They put a board behind my back. I was writhing, I remember. My family gathered in the hospital to see me in case I had to go back to surgery. In case I wasn’t going to do well. 

It was scary.

The next set of nurses figured out the problem when the scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary. My back was spasming. Horribly. When I sat up and they felt of me, they were shocked to find my back riddled with knots. It felt like knuckles underneath my skin. The new nurses got me some hella icy hot with pain killer and rubbed me down. 

It helped tremendously. My back stopped freaking out, which gave my abdominal muscles time to rest.

At last, I wasn’t hurting. At last, I slept. 

Wednesday and Thursday were spent trying to keep my back under control. At one point I vomited all over my bed due to acid reflux. I paged the nurse to ask for some acid reflux medicine and puked all over the place while I was on the call with her lol.

I never once had any issue with my incision. My entire trouble, the whole time, was from my back. And nausea. And lemme tell ya. Vomiting with a six inch incision on your abdomen? OW.

Getting up and walking? Easy enough. Getting up and going to the bathroom? No problem. Spongebath? Piece of cake. But God my back. 

I managed to poop for the doctors. Fantastic. 

And finally, finally, I got to have food. 

I went from about 5:00PM Saturday to 12:00PM Friday without having anything to eat or drink. I had an IV, and I could eat ice chips if I desperately needed to wet my mouth, but yeah. I hardly had any ice chips. Weird to imagine you can go that long without food and be alright. 

I proved I could eat GI soft food on Saturday and they let me go home.

Got my staples removed the following Tuesday. Had some steri strips applied. Just waiting for them to fall off on their own. 

And here I am. Just lounging, waiting to get my strength back. It’s much easier to draw after this surgery than the pacemaker one. Thank God. I’m slow moving and my stomach hurts a bit when my contents shift, but other than that I’m doing swimmingly. I can’t lift anything over ten pounds until the new year. Not sure when I’ll be able to drive, either. I’ll find out soon. 

This surgery was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Mentally and physically. Mentally because I’ve been struggling with Crohn’s since I was a teenager. I’m 32 now. Half my life I’ve been at war with my own body, drowning in the pain it leashes on itself. It’s been a long road. I hope this spells the end of it. Or at least, the rest of the journey is all downhill.

I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m trying not to think about it too much. I’ll gain it back. Just takes time.