#also doesn’t help that my friend who gets this also has immigrant parents too

[bootyful-seventeen]

Sometimes I wish I was a man just to avoid dealing with a vagina cuz they’re annoying as hell

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi! Y’all are cool :)

This is kinda asking for advice/perspective? I’m a newly cracked disabled trans man living in the Midwest 😐. Coming out has been a bit rough (I have supportive friends and church, but unsure parents and some people I wish I could avoid forever). I think it’s worth it, but then more political shit happens and I get freaked out. Honestly, staying and fighting sounds less scary sometimes even if it’s not safe, because every time I research immigrating it seems so impossible (disability and limited ability to work doesn’t help).

Do you have thoughts or advice about smoothing immigration/making peace with staying? It’s okay if not. Hope you have a good day <2

hello there!

that would definitely depend on where you're going! also i have lived in the US my whole life so i don't know anything about immigration, unfortunately. i have been considering moving in with my QP who lives in canada, but i haven't been able to conduct that research yet, so sorry about that!

it may be possible for you to find a safer place in the US to stay instead, where i'm at right now for example is very compatible with my needs as a disabled & queer person. no place in the US is perfect but if moving out of the country isn't an option, there is always the chance to upgrade to a more progressive area. at the very least, i'm glad you have supportive friends and church! hopefully your parents aren't too crappy about the whole thing, i wish you the best of luck, i wish i had more info on immigrating! good luck, hopefully you can find a solution that works best to suit as many of your needs as possible! take care, stay safe!

[foggycuriosities]

╔═════════《Get your prayers in, you’ll be swinging by noon.》═══════╗ Verse: Hung and Gutted

For my main verse of Caleb, it follows DBD cannon pretty closely. He was raised by Irish immigrants and knew early on that if you didn’t fit into society, everyone made sure to remind you of that fact every day. He discovered his father’s tools and with his help began inventing and tinkering with machinery though, hidden away from his parents were blueprints of torture devices fitted to the bullies of the town. He was always a hothead but his parents begged him to be careful with his anger as his actions could affect the whole family so he often clenched his fist and tried his best to ignore the harsh words but occasionally a punch or two would be thrown in hidden alleyways. He grew in talent and caught the eyes of many people who would reconsider their Irish need not apply rules, though Henry Bayshore was the one who grabbed him up first for the railroad. Though, what Caleb thought was kindness and a chance taken on the child of an immigrant quickly turned sour as he saw his devices stolen and sold with no credit or money going to him. Filled with pent-up rage from years of unfairness, he took the railroad spike gun he created and shot it through his former boss Henry. By pure luck, his boss survived and they sent him to prison rather than the gallows. He found an unlikely “friend” in the prison warden who would give him privileges and extra food for the torture devices he made. One day, the warden offered Caleb a deal, he could frame Henry and get him thrown into jail for life for what he did if Caleb worked for the warden. Caleb accepted this deal and became a bounty hunter for the warden, bringing in countless bounties and filling his prison with the help of his posse the Hellshire Gang. He used a reworked version of the railroad nail gun to spear in victims, though at first it killed bounties rather than bring them in. Caleb worked out the kinks in due time and had it working as intended.

His posse brought “justice” to the west for six years until after the battle of Glenvale when Caleb discovered that Henry bought the prison and he was filled with the all too familiar soul devouring rage. His posse raided the prison beating any guards who dared to try and stop them and Caleb was met with a great sight once he opened the doors to the warden’s office. It wasn’t just the warden who was cowering in the corner but Henry as well.

 Caleb beat Henry with all the rage he had ignoring his pleases for death as his posse broke the warden’s bones. Caleb eventually let his posse drag the two half-dead men to the commons to be beaten and tortured by other prisoners as he hobbled to his cell covered in blood. That’s when the fog crept in through the window and showed Caleb a world where he could put his inventions to use and no longer be faced with injustice. He could release all that never-ending anger in him hunting survivors who Caleb didn’t care if they were innocent or not. He had a new job and he carried it out with indifference. 

Though, once his anger ran out Caleb began to feel for the survivors and realize that he once again is just being used and the freedom he thought he had here was paper thin. He doesn’t usually seek out conversations, but he won’t turn them down if approached by anyone outside of trials. He also shares the goods of the Saloon with anyone who passes by. He doesn’t know how, but the shelves are always stocked with alcohol, some of them foreign to him. He has taken up inventing new items in the fog that lean away from torture and death and they’re littered around the realm. 

He helps anyone if they approach him with a mechanical problem or even if they come to him with a vague idea of a new invention. When it comes to his own inventions other than his spear gun he is closed off and hesitant on sharing blueprints and explaining how they work. Even if they can’t be “stolen” here in the fog he can’t help but be fearful of his work being taken or used against him in some way. 

When it comes to romantic or sexual relationships, Caleb is leaning toward men. He isn’t completely closed off to the thought of dating or being intimate with a woman but it would take a certain type of woman to pique Caleb’s interest males just have a much easier time with that type of stuff with Caleb.

═══════《There won’t be nothing to fear soon. Till then, fear me.》══════ Current romantic relationships: (none)

Caleb Specific Tags verse: Hung and gutted - any post/rps in the main verse for Caleb tales at the saloon - any short stories/writing prompts of Caleb answer for your crimes - any asks having to do with Caleb

╚════════════════════《✧》══════════════════╝

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: I’m a 19Y female with very limited experience in dating. I always thought that I should delay this till I pass 18 and become more mature, but now I feel that it’s too late. Most people my age are more experienced and my major problem is that I’m so afraid of deception. I feel like i need to go out and meet new people, but I’m afraid they will be using me, specifically males.

for more context, 2 years a go I was once with a girl, who was my friend but then pretended to love me and only after a year she left me and said it was just for fun. I felt so stupid, and even though I’m straight I was with her because I thought females would be less manipulative but it wasn’t the case. now, I know that I need experience, but how to start if I’m afraid, I feel like it’s a cycle that i cannot escape. I read a lot about relationships and psychology and communication, but everything I read suggests that experience is a key, and I luck it.

other problems is that I have social anxiety, not so serious, but still it makes things more difficult, I also came from a conservative background where it’s so bad to communicate with people from the other sex, and where people usually marry arranged way. Fortunately, I’m an immigrant, but I lived most of my life in my home country, and my parents still believe the same way about relations. I’m not financially independent yet, and if I would date, I will feel I’m using my family resources while not respecting their beliefs. I don’t share these beliefs, and I want to get to know someone and become their partner by myself. i once thought that I should delay dating till I become financially independent, but this takes time, and I then would be just starting, how I will have time to have experience, and only then to be with someone?

additionally, I don’t know from which background I should date, I believe that people are unique their background, but people of my background would think I’m bad for dating, and from more open background would find me inexperienced and probably would not understand my limitations.

Could you help me? I’m an infp if this helps. My problems are 1 fear of deception and manipulation. 2 my luck of experience (which also makes me insecure). 3 fear from parents judgment. 4 who to date (or it doesn’t matte?) 5 and finally how and where to find people in a healthy way (not online)

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

I will address the problems as you list them:

1) Relationships require risk-taking. You don't know everything about a person before you meet them, so you won't be able to see all of their negative qualities right away. This is why it's important to take relationships slowly and allow enough time for you to see who someone truly is. Learn to spot red flags and use them to decide how close/distant to be with people. It is useless and self-limiting to be afraid of bad people. You should make yourself smart enough to see them and grant yourself the permission to remove their negative influence from your life.

2) You overthink and overcomplicate things for no good reason. Do, learn, and grow. That's how we all have to go through life. There is no way to do relationships perfectly. Every relationship has its up and down sides, as well as up and down phases. The key is to try your best to do things with respect and kindness at all times, both for yourself and others.

Lack of experience can only be remedied by doing and gradually gaining confidence through learning from mistakes. This means you must make mistakes in order to grow. Change your view of mistakes/failures and treat them as opportunities to learn how to do better. Past experiences shouldn't hold you back but rather make you smarter. You won't get smarter by hiding away in fear.

3) An important part of becoming an adult is learning independence. Independence cannot happen as long as you are stuck in the false dichotomy of "conforming" vs "rebelling" - this is teenage mentality. These are not the only two options in life. When you conform, you give up your freedom to self-determination, which is harmful to you. When you rebel, you are not exercising freedom but rather mere defiance, so you are still choosing to be controlled by something external to you.

Real independence is about knowing the truth of yourself, what you need, and what is in your own best interests. Acting out of genuine care for your well-being and the growth of your future self is how one becomes a real adult, mentally. Realizing your potential to be a better version of yourself means that you have to let go of your investment in the things that harm you and hold you down.

You want to be a good person and not hurt people. That's a good thing. But you cannot feel like a good person and be proud of who you are as long as you hurt yourself. Until you have a good understanding of healthy relationship boundaries, you will take on too much duty and responsibility and hurt yourself, and/or you will encroach on other people's boundaries and hurt them. To have healthy boundaries is essential in relationships, because it is the lack of them that allows people to exploit or mistreat you. Healthy boundaries help you find the right balance between your needs and others'. Please read up on the topic of boundaries.

4) The foundation of a healthy relationship is kindness, which means that respectful behavior is always the first thing to look for. The rest is dependent on your (personality) preferences, your needs/wants, and your aspirations.

5) My personal opinion is that I don't think it's good to meet new people with romance as the main goal, because it enables the mentality of "using" people and discarding them as soon as they don't meet your expectations. Also, desperation isn't a good look. You need to have a bigger picture view of things, if you hope to build a healthy and full social life for yourself.

A better way is to get involved in the community through clubs, congregations, volunteering, or other forms of service. Make yourself a useful person in the world and you will naturally meet many new people. When you click with someone, develop it into a closer friendship. Put out the effort to build a good social support system for yourself and you are sure to encounter opportunities here and there for romance along the way.

[daloy-politsey]

On my first date with Yehoram, I offered him a sip of my prosecco at the hip Tel Aviv bar I had brought him to. He tensed, paused and quietly replied, “I’m not sure if I can. I don’t know if it’s kosher.” I immediately recognized his confession for what it was: a coming-out. I told him that it’s fine, that we can ask the waitress if the wine has a certification, that I grew up in an observant family too. He finally breathed.

I already knew that Yehoram is female-to-male transgender. In fact, it was the only thing written on his dating profile. Over the course of our year-long relationship, and then our seamless transition into friendship late last year, he explained to me that the queer community will often accept that he is trans but not that he is religious. But the same is not always necessarily true of the religious community – and particularly of his family.

There are many preconceptions about his family. The matriarch Mazal, 74, and patriarch Yehiel, 78, were both born in Sana’a, Yemen, and immigrated to the newly-declared State of Israel in early childhood. (Haaretz is honoring their request not to publish the family name.) They are visibly Haredi: Mazal wears long skirts and tucks her hair into modest black caps; Yehiel trims his salt-and-pepper beard, and wears a uniform of crisp dress shirts, black pants and a black velvet kippa.

They speak with heavy Yemenite accents – which have been at least partially adopted by their seven children – and their speech is seasoned with religious aphorisms and allusions. People are surprised to learn that Yehoram, 32, is accepted and supported by his parents, to a degree that is rare even in the secular homes of Tel Aviv.

At their kitchen table in a town near Rehovot, central Israel, Mazal has set out water, juice and a homemade cake. Yehiel has set down a voice recorder of his own, to make sure he isn’t misrepresented. They have a story to tell about being the parents of a trans son, and they have decided that I am allowed to tell it.

Before we begin the interview, both are apprehensive. After much deliberation, they decide that I can publish their names but not their images. Yehiel is a respected figure in religious circles: he serves as his synagogue’s main cantor on the High Holy Days, is a mezuzah scribe and kashrut supervisor for the Chief Rabbinate. He spends his free time poring over religious texts, with Yehoram often alongside him. His son no longer attends the local synagogue in which his father plays so large a role; the congregation knew him before his transition, and it could hurt his family’s reputation.

If someone goes to the rabbi with this article in hand and tells Yehiel that he’s out of the fold, “at our age, there’s no fight left. There’s nothing you can do,” he says. “It would destroy me.” When he thinks I cannot hear him, he says that he suspects that one of his contracts as a kashrut supervisor was not renewed for this exact reason – because of his unconventional family.

But if getting his story out shows religious parents that they can embrace their own LGBTQ children, he wants it published. “I want to help,” he says.

Mazal chimes in. “Both of us do. You hear these stories about parents throwing their children out ... I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you throw out your child.”

She recounts going to the shivah of a friend of Yehoram’s – the transgender queer activist DanVeg, who took her own life in 2016.  “I saw them all in the living room, with their heads on each other’s shoulders. I started to cry. I wanted to hug them all, to go one by one. And they came to me; they saw the look in my eye. There was a man who had become a woman, who came to hug me. And a young girl, and more. I couldn’t take it,” she says, wiping away tears that are coming faster and faster. “More and more of them told us that they’re alone, abandoned by their parents. How can you throw out your child? The child of a human being!”

I get up to hug her, and she cries into my back: “Why? Why would you throw your child out of your house? Why?”

They say they never suspected that Yehoram was different before he came out to them, if not unconventionally, as queer at the age of 18, some 14 years ago.

He did not employ the usual lexicon: “I told them, this is how I am – I’m wearing pants from now on and I’m not interested in men,” he recounts. In Yehoram’s absence, Yehiel recalls it as well. Yehoram sat his parents down in the living room and said his piece, and then asked his parents for a response.

“We got up immediately, as if it were coordinated,” Yehiel says. “We hugged [him] from both directions … and we told [him], ‘You have nothing to be afraid of, no need to worry. You’re our daughter, it doesn’t matter what you do.’” Yehoram then opened his backpack to show a couple days’ clothes inside. “If you didn’t accept me, I would have killed myself,” he told his parents.

From there, they worked to make sure that their son wouldn’t, for one moment, forget that he is loved and cared for. They also made sure that he could live a normal life. “It was important that he be self-sufficient, have a respectable career, be able to build a life without us,” Yehiel explains. “Every day, I’m afraid that he won’t be here. I think about how he can build his life so he’s not dependent on anyone else.”

Mazal and Yehiel tend to refer to Yehoram with female pronouns when he isn’t in the room, and occasionally slip into them when he is. To her, Mazal says, he will always be their daughter. “It’s hard for me,” Yehiel concurs. “[He] should be patient.”

Mazal calls him by his chosen name – an anagram of his birth name – to make him happy. “And to connect with [him] – what can you do? We love [him] either way. [He’s] our daughter.”

There have been difficulties in accepting him along the way, she concedes. But like many parents of LGBTQ children, they are mainly rooted in concerns that he will be able to live a safe, fulfilling life.

No one should mistake their acceptance for liberalism – they repeatedly note that the Pride Parades, with their scanty clothes and glitter, are unsightly. “The left brings it in,” Mazal says. “Non-Jews from abroad, with all their tattoos and whatnot.” However, their embrace of their transgender son and the many queer people who have passed through their doors does not come in spite of their firm religious beliefs, but is the direct result of them.

Yehiel, a lifelong religious scholar, has poured over sources biblical, talmudic, rabbinic and kabbalistic. The kabbalistic concept of the soul provides a simple explanation for the transgender phenomenon, he believes.

“We have the knowledge that Jewish souls can be reincarnated into anything – into non-Jewish families, into animals, even into food,” Yehiel explains. “We were taught that the soul of a man can be reincarnated into a woman, in order to remedy something he had done in a past life.”

When Mazal was pregnant with Yehoram, she had already given birth to five daughters and was hoping for a son. The couple went to a respected rabbi, who told them to buy a bottle of wine for the circumcision ceremony and to come see him 40 days into the pregnancy. Yehiel says that when the time came, it was hard to get hold of the rabbi to schedule an appointment, and they were only able to see him eight months in. The rabbi gave them the blessing regardless.

“The body was already formed female,” Yehiel says, but the prayers had worked: “The soul was male.”

And there is scripture to back up the existence of LGBTQ people within Judaism. “You’re not different, you’re not strange,” Yehiel says. “This [phenomenon] has always existed. It’s in the Torah, and it’s in the mystical sources.” Mazal adds: “It’s a shame that we don’t lay this out these days, to have everything written up and organized to say that it’s all there in scripture.”

At 26, Yehoram told his parents he was transitioning. He underwent top surgery – a double mastectomy – without informing them. “On the one hand, it hurt us,” Yehiel admits. “For us, it meant that’s it – it’s sealed. If he’d told us in advance, we would have told him to wait. Maybe the situation would change.”

But what’s done is done, Mazal says. “What hurt me is that [he] underwent the surgery and I wasn’t there. That ate at me.”

Both loudly agree that the important thing is that he is happy and healthy. “We hope just for success – and thank God there are many successes, so everything is alright,” she says. “I’m just waiting for children,” she laughs.

Yehoram, who has taken a seat next to her, smirks. Mazal jokes about him coming home pregnant one day. He’s slightly irked, but jokes along. A couple of years ago, he froze his eggs through Ichilov Hospital’s fertility clinic for transgender men, and hopes to one day become a father, no matter how he has to do it. His parents strongly supported the move. They have 31 grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Yehoram asks a question of his own: Whether his parents want to talk about the time they took him to an esteemed rabbi in Tel Aviv, after he came out at 18.

“After he told us everything, we consulted with a rabbi,” Yehiel relays. “I remember that he got angry and yelled at him. I didn’t like that. He hurt him, and I couldn’t stay any longer, so we left.”

“The rabbi told me that I had lapsed, deteriorated in my spirituality,” Yehoram explains. It’s clear that he remembers it vividly. “That I had fallen.”

After that, the rabbi told him to leave the room, and for his parents to stay. “I heard shouting, and then you left the room,” he says to his parents. “You didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything. We were quiet all the way home.”

No one discussed the incident for days after, and they barely spoke at all. After three days, Yehoram says, he asked his mother what had happened after the rabbi told him to leave the room.

“I didn’t know what happened, I assumed the worst. You told me that [Dad] got very angry and told [the rabbi], ‘How dare you hurt and belittle a Jewish soul?’ You said you had to give him however much money, and that you just threw a small bill onto the table and left the room,” Yehoram tells his mother. “It really surprised me. I thought you were on his side, and then I suddenly heard that you were on mine.”

When he is with us in the room, Yehoram sometimes seems agitated by his parents’ insistence that their acceptance has always been complete. He tries to direct them toward other instances, other rabbis they don’t or won’t recall. It is often difficult for parents to acknowledge the pain or discomfort that their actions caused their children, even if they were accidental. Mazal brings out a picture from Yehoram’s bat mitzvah, of them embracing the young girl he was. They look almost exactly the same, 20 years later, beaming. Young Yehoram, in a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, is smiling, but the smile does not reach his eyes.

Elisha Alexander, co-CEO and founder of the transgender advocacy and information organization Ma’avarim, says that even though Yehiel and Mazal’s acceptance of their son may seem unique, he would like to think it’s more common than we assume.

“There are religious and even ultra-Orthodox people who accept their trans family members, but it’s usually in secret. The main problem in these communities is the leadership,” he says.

But if more of them realized that embracing their children was a matter of pikuach nefesh – the Jewish concept that saving a life supersedes most religious commandments and norms – they would be more inclined to find a halakhic solution to integrating transgender people into these communities.

There is also a misconception that acceptance is a binary choice: That any parent who does not kick their transgender child out of the house or disown them has, by default, accepted them. “This could not be further from the truth,” Alexander says. “Accepting your child means accepting every aspect inherent to them, including their gender identity, pronouns and so on.”

When parents refuse to do so, their child may seek acceptance elsewhere. He adds that studies show that acceptance within the family drastically reduces the suicide rate among transgender people.

Knowing this, Yehiel says that any parent in his position must continue loving and supporting their child. “This child can fall,” he says. He does not mention it, but he is aware of the stories and statistics: trans youth who find themselves on the street face high rates of abuse and exploitation. Thirty to 50 percent of transgender teens report suicidal thoughts and behaviors – a rate three times higher than for teens overall. But that figure falls to 4 percent when families accept and embrace them, says Sarit Ben Shimol, manager of the Lioness Alliance for families and transgender children and teenagers.

Yehiel adds that it is the duty of parents to give children the support they need to thrive. “As a parent, it is your responsibility to tell your child: You are my child and you are my life. My life depends on you. Watch over me so that I can watch over you,” he says.

As we get up from our seats, Yehiel looks at me for a moment and asks, “If it’s not too personal – since we already opened up the topic – what is your relationship like with your parents?”

I tell them that I talk to my parents, and especially my mother, almost every day. That it was difficult for them to come to terms with my sexual orientation as well, and that sometimes I have an inkling that it still is, even if they won’t say it outright. But I try to be patient.

“Good,” Mazal says. “It’s important to be patient – they’re learning too.” She embraces me again, and Yehiel rests a hand on my shoulder. They invite me to come again, whenever I like. “After all, you’re like our daughter, too.”

[kinderdays]

full name: katarina sophia cage // status: alive

can i handle the seasons of my life?

born to immigrant parents, katarina was raised a fighter.  since she was a girl she’s had fire in her veins.  she sticks up for the underdog.  in grade school she once spread super glue stolen from her teacher’s desk on the seat of a student who had been picking on a classmate.  she was never caught.  this would one of the first instances of katya displaying her passion for helping others- even if sometimes means breaking the rules.  she isn’t afraid to do what it takes to protect the people she loves, or anyone she sees who needs it.  when they are running low on medical supplies while working under fedra, it’s her that suggests they seek other ways of getting the medicine they needed.  it’s her who contacts the orquídeas.  

'til the landslide brought me down

katya is sharp, tactful.  when she first meets alexei volkov, she uses her maiden name, carefully slipping into a touch of the slavic accent she heard on her parents tongue growing up.  she thinks that maybe, if he thinks there is a chance she is russian, he will regard her more highly, and in turn favor her family.  she thinks perhaps it is her chance at a bit of protection.  years later she will wonder if it worked, if her husband being selected for a mission in jackson was seen as an honor.  he sent his own brother, after all.  maybe he was meant to come home a hero.  she’s never introduced herself as a mensik again.

children get older and i'm getting older too

she is vengeful- doesn’t quickly forgive and forget.  she isn’t easily fooled.  it’s almost like she can smell trouble- sense it in the distance.  hard work is no stranger to her.  she’s never slowed, even in her older age.  in the past few years she’s developed worsening arthritis in her hands and wrists which as made her work more difficult.  more than the pain, she hates being less useful.  it’s taken a toll.  she refuses to take medication, insisting everything the infirmary has goes to those who need it more.

playlist –– kingdom come by the civil wars // garden song by pheobe bridgers // the mother by brandi carlise // into the fire by thirteen senses // landslide by fleetwood mac

character parallels –– meredith grey (grey’s anatomy), juliet burke (lost)

full name: kenneth alexander cage // status: deceased

come stop your crying it will be alright

his choice to become a doctor comes from a life of looking out for others.  intensely caring and tender, he’s never put himself first.  when he meets a clever nurse with a spark in her eyes, kenneth is instantly hooked.  she asks him out for coffee and the rest is history.  a love story for the ages, perhaps.  but they’re happily ever after is short lived.  soon they are torn from their homes, thrust into a new far more dangerous world.  they don’t hesitate to take action, saving those they can. 

this bond between us can’t be broken

their daughter isn’t exactly planned.  the couple has always wanted children but under the circumstances they weren’t so sure.  but of course as soon as katya tells her husband the news he is overjoyed.  she is born and he names her ophelia.  she captures his heart in an instant, and he knows he will never love anything more than this child.  he wants to protect her, he wants to prepare her for the grueling world she faces.  from a young age he begins to teach her everything he possibly can.  she knows the name for every bone in the human body by the time she’s nine.  by age eleven she knows how to make a tourniquet.  the three of them are a tight-knit unit, loyal only to each other.  and when the son of fallen friends returns to the falls, they don’t hesitate to take him in, they love him as their own.

i may not be with you but you've got to hold on

on a hot summer day, kenneth is selected to be apart of a team headed to jackson town.  he is not a fighter, but he knows it’s not really a request.  and when gil is also picked for the mission, the answer is clear.  he goes with only one task in mind- bring his soldiers home alive.  armed with a medkit and a pistol, they head into the unknown.  of course, they would have no idea the horror that awaited them in wyoming.  they never stood a chance.  shrapnel and bullets flying, kenneth is hit.  ringing in his ears, blood seeping from a wound in his chest, he doesn’t feel the pain.  he can hardly breath but adrenaline pumps through him as he crawls to his boy, applies pressure to his wounds, wraps him tightly.  you’re gonna be okay, i’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay, keep your eyes open.  and perhaps that could have been true for both of them, but he’s lost so much blood.  the color is drained from his face and only now does he lift up his shirt and realize a bullet has gone straight through him.  air escapes him, red stains his lips.  his last words are to his son, don’t worry about me, go.  a part of him wants to tell him to take care of his girls, but knows he doesn’t need to nor does he wish to impose that pressure as a dying wish.  a last act of empathy.  kenneth is a man of science but in his last moments he looks up at the sky and silently thanks god for giving him enough time to save him.  he doesn’t die alone.

playlist –– you’ll be in my heart by phil collins // fix you by coldplay // right by you by john legend // i just called to say i love you by john prine // bring him home from les miserables

character parallels –– jack shephard (lost), sully (monster’s inc.)

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 5/?

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name ( your best friend’s name)

Part 5! This is going well, I think, I hope you like it :) 

So last night, I finished two parts to this series, and guess what? Turns out when Tumblr glitches you have no rights and suddenly all your work is gone! If you need me, I’ll be crying in my writer’s corner

Warnings: Swearing, Trauma, Family Issues, Left on a cliffhanger lol :) sue me, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Down girl, you’ve been on two dates, did he even open up to you fully? A/N texted back to Y/N, who took a quick break to the bathroom to compose herself and fix her hair after Jason, the man she was casually seeing, opened up to her about his father and his father’s criminal record as well as his mother and his mother’s passing.

Yes he opened up to me! But we’ve been spending all day flirting and I told him about how my father is an immigrant and how I tell everyone I am legally a bastard, and I just don’t know, is it too soon to say I like him?

Go get him, Girl. Go get him.

In the other room, Jason was hastily texting his brother Dick, who has been in a relationship with Barbara for a while now, and is deeply committed to her. So, he needed advice.

How did I know when to kiss Barbara? Do you want to kiss Y/N? Dick asked back to Jason.

Yes I want to kiss her you idiot, but when do I do it? We’ve only been on two dates.

Why don’t you take her to a fancy restaurant out of the city where you aren’t being watched constantly and she isn’t flipping off the paparazzi, and then do it? Also, Bruce thinks her flipping off the pap twice is very funny, shockingly.

As soon as he received that text, she walked back out of the bathroom, this time, letting her hair down out of the bun it is usually in.

“You look nice with your hair down, Y/N.”

“You think so? I usually have it down when I don’t have classes.”

“I do think so.”

“Well, thank you, Jason,” she purred, sitting back down in her chair, opposite him.

“Bruce saw your shenanigans with the pap, he apparently thinks it’s funny.”

“Your family is checking in on you? Can’t they trust me?” she said, in a completely sarcastic tone.

“Well, I was just bragging about how lovely I find you.”

“Kind of you to do so, Jason,” she placed her hands on his and had to lift herself up slightly to lean into him, not to kiss him or anything, but to be closer to him. 

“Your love language is physical attention,” he smirked at her, “I can tell by how you grab me, Y/N.”

“Don’t psych me out now, we’re having fun!” she whisper-yelled at him.”

“I do it when I’m nervous,” he assured.

“What’s there to be nervous of?” she asked.

“The pretty girl leaning into my face making moves on me?”

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” he grinned, “no chance I want you to stop.”

And then his phone rang. He picked it up to hear a very panicked Bruce on the other end,

“Jason, here, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

He hung up and grabbed her hands and leant in, like he was going to kiss her, but only rest his forehead against hers,

“This has been lovely, really, but that was Bruce and he needs me, I’m sorry,” he whispered down to her.

“I understand, we can always go on more dates.”

“I hope we do, see you later, Y/N.”

“See you, Jason.”

And he left. But there was something about the furniture in the house after he left, it smelled like him. Not in a weird way where she was obsessed with it, but she associated the smell with the feeling of riding through the city and the back roads like no one was watching, the feeling of being free, the feeling of being unstoppable.

And that, that was the beauty of the chase, the beauty of what she wanted, to be free, gone from her parents, gone from her twin sister, free.

But, she went to bed that night without even going to her car to pick up her notes. She did have class tomorrow, but it wasn’t criminal psych. It was regular psych. Which she wasn’t stoked for, that’s for damn sure.

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

Waking up, she opened her phone at around 5am to see a text from Jason,

You know, I always wanted to try some restaurants in Metropolis, I know you don’t like it, but I know the press doesn’t follow me there. What do you say? (Yes I know it’s 3am I’ll tell you all about what happened and why I’m awake so late later lol)

She thought about it, scared that her parents would see her walking around with this guy they didn’t know. Fuck it, she thought, I only live once.

Jason, I would love to. And I hope that story is a good one.

He almost immediately shot back, Mornin’ and yeah, it is. Do you have class today? I can come get you from your’s and pick you up from class if you need it, I swear you won’t have to ride the motorbike in your home city.

I do have class, and you don’t have to but my class is at 3pm again if you’re willing.

Meet up at 12 and talk for a while? Might be fun. 

My roommate will be here, though.

Well, you already inadvertedly met my best friend, remember the baker? His name’s Will Harper. I called in a quick favor to impress you and he’s a sucker for a good romance story.

Well, he seemed nice, and yeah, if you want to meet my roommate you can come over, Jason.

You can call me Jay if you want to, Y/N.

I gotta shower now, Jason, but I figured nick names would come out in time.

She put down her phone and went to shower.

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

“Mornin’ A/N.”

“Y/N,”, she greeted happily, “the coffee’s already brewed by the way.”

“God I love you,” she blurted out.

“Yeah yeah, tell me the drama, did you guys have sex?”

“No, but he’s coming over today to meet you slash talk to me before taking me to class and then driving himself and I to Metropolis for dinner.”

“Escaping the cameras to go to the city that has your parents?” A/N questioned, seeming concerned.

“I know, I know, but I only live once and I doubt we’ll see them. If we do, I might just call him my boyfriend to get it over with. Have to talk to him about that though.”

“Honestly, have you told him how insane your parents are?”

“That’s what I’m planning on doing today, A/N.”

“Don’t scare him off, Y/N.”

Y/N scoffed and she went to go get her notes from last night, it was around 11:50am, so she knew that Jason would be here any minute, but she needed to get those notes into her room, she was right about Jason when he pulled down the street in a Porsche. Pulling into her driveway, Y/N waved at Jason while finishing to pull out her books from her beat up car. Quite the difference from the Porsche and her car, but she only noticed it for a few seconds before both doors slammed, in sync.

“Well, that was timed perfectly,” she said to Jason when he met up with her at her car.

“Wow, we’re magicians,” he joked, “Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, no, I can handle it myself, thank you.”

“Well, it doesn’t kill me to ask, you’re going to need help with that door though,” he mused.

“Oh no, you underestimate me, I can open doors with my hips, and I think I didn’t shut the door the whole way so I could do this easier,” she laughed and began to lead him up the driveway, like she had done last night before he ran off with Bruce.

“Thinking ahead?”

“Something I clearly didn’t do when saying we could go to Metropolis, I’ll admit.”

“What do you mean?”

“We have time to talk about it later, Jay, are you however, ready to meet my roommate?”

“No, but you only live once, Y/N.”

“You won’t die, I promise,” she said as she nudged the door open with her hip and greeted A/N, “Hey girl! This is Jason, entertain him while I file notes, maybe, I swear I’ll speed run it.”

“Entertain him? Are you serious? He’s your guest!” she joked.

“Hey thanks man really appreciate it,” Y/N joked before hastily walking towards her bedroom, this was obviously a song and dance they had done with A/N’s lover, so Y/N shot it back at A/N.

“Jason.”

“A/N, right?”

“Yes, sir, how are you today?”

“I’m good, was that a fight?” he questioned.

“No, don’t worry, it’s just the way I acted when I first brought my partner, person, thing, over. She’s just being spiteful. Trust me, if it was a fight, there’d be a lot more of a screaming match.”

“Well, that’s reassuring, I think.”

“So, Jason, do you like her?” she asked.

“We’ve been on back-to-back dates since Sunday, A/N,” he paused, “I really do.”

“Well, it is not like I am going to sit here and be like ‘Oh you can’t date her!’ and feign being upset about this, I mean it’s been 2 dates and you’re going on a third, if that’s not leading towards seriousness, I don’t know what is,” she assured him. He seemed to like this.

“How much has she told you? My secrets or anything?”

“God no, you’ll tell me those with time when we’re friends.”

“Well, I hope you’re a good friend to Y/N and myself, in the future, then.”

“The future is just around the corner. Don’t let Y/N escape you. She’s a catch,” she finished as Y/N reentered the room,

“Did you two have fun?” Y/N asked.

“I think we did,” Jason said.

“We did,” A/N assured, “you two can go to her room now, I’ll be fine.”

“I wasn’t worried you weren’t going to be, you always are.” Y/N said to A/N before grabbing Jason’s hand and taking him to her room. He hadn’t been in her room yet.

It was kind of a mess, I mean it wasn’t like they had a maid and they’re both broke college/university students. Notes were strewn across her desk, but that was expected with such a high-study class, the one they met in.

“You clearly like the colour red,” Jason said, pointing to the obvious red feature wall, grinning.

“Well, I told my sister to design my room last time she was over and she picked it based off of the criteria I gave her, she’s going to be an interior designer, and red was one of the colours I gave her,” Y/N said with a sigh, “That’s kind of the thing we need to talk about, my family,” she sighed again, “They are, special, to say the least.”

“Well, so is mine.”

“Yeah but,” she sat on her bed and he joined her, “My family is quite, how do you say it, Christian? They’re very hard to impress and if they see me running around the city with you they might expect you to be my boyfriend, not the guy I’ve known for 3 days and went on back-to-back dates with,” she rambled, “ Not that they wont like you! They’re just traditional, and I’m not and it drives a slight wedge between us,” she paused to look at him, “This is just a really long-winded warning about only a chance to meet them,” she finished.

“Well, that doesn’t scare me. You would understand why if you knew the Waynes, not that they’re traditional, they too, are just hard to impress,” he assured.

“Probably shouldn’t have flipped off the paparazzi then, honestly.”

“No, Bruce found that funny. And about last night, my brother, Damien, he’s the youngest Wayne and one of the only not-adopted ones, being 3 not adopted ones,” he paused, “Anyway, he broke his leg playing office chair racing in the Manor, and I needed to go to Bruce to get yelled at for bringing up the idea,” he laughed, “Bruce then told me after that if he was invited I wouldn’t have been yelled at,” he paused, “That was fun.”

“So, very posh and pristine family, and one of you broke your leg roughhousing in a very expensive Manor?”

“Only in Wayne Manor would that be a sentence.”

“Seems like you have your hands tied with your family,” she joked.

“I wouldn’t if the idiots stopped hurting themselves playing games when I’m on dates,” he retorted and laughed with Y/N.

It seemed crazy that these two would meet, since so many factors played into it, but she swore God saw the potential for this to happen and said, This, this deserves a shot to shine. And she was grateful. She didn’t exactly believe in God, but if God sent her this boy, she might change her mind on going to church with her parents when they invite her.

And that’s the beauty in the mystery, the beauty in the ‘Positive’ they claimed after not knowing what to do next but still powering through to go on dates, and they had gone on enough dates and spent at least 1 third of the last 3 days with each other. That was impressive. That was a good sign and they both knew it.

The next step was packing a few bags and going on 24 hour dates in the cities, but they weren’t ready for that yet. They both thought a first kiss would be better before that. Luckily, Jason wanted to kiss her today, and she wanted to kiss him today.

Before they knew it, they were in the Porsche driving through the streets she describes all-too well, blasting songs and screaming lyrics with Jason, a song stuck out and that was the Annapantsu’s Smooth Criminal Rendition with Caleb Hyles. Since the rendition had a multitude of riffs that Y/N adored, she would scream it and Jason would continue the male parts. It was peaceful yet the most high-pressure intense situation she had felt in a while.

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

Getting out of class, she somehow avoided the paparazzi she had grown somewhat accustomed to over the days she had known Jason, she got back into the Porsche before they noticed she was even there, but then they noticed, and Jason fucking floored it to the streets and out of there.

He dropped her off at her place to get ready for an expensive dinner with him in Metropolis. She thought long and heard about what to wear to her date, but in the end, she decided on a nice pink dress her mother had bought for her back in Metropolis. She had told her daughter, Only wear this on a date with a man you think is endgame, now, she didn’t know if Jason was endgame, but she did want to put all the energy she could into the universe to make him worthwhile.

(This is the first time I’m going to include pictures! I think I’m getting the hand of Tumblr now hehe :) )

(If the skin tone doesn’t match your own, because you’re darker or paler, just imagine it’s yours :) you’re all beautiful in your own right and I’ll use pictures with varying skin tones as I progress the story)

She gave a little twirl in her mirror before taking a quick picture to send to one of her other class friends, who was wondering how things were going with Jason at the time. Her name was Artemis Crock, she knew that Art and Jason were friends, but she also liked Artemis Crock a lot, thinking that they were likely going to be good friends.

You’re going to make him swear up and down to Will that he is ‘Only seeing you casually’ while Will says he’s in love with you, you’re killing it. She shot to Y/N.

Y/N smiled and left her bedroom to go meet up with A/N, who wanted to make sure the dress she was wearing was cute, and it was,

“Holy shit! I said look cute, not make him your bitch, Y/N!”

“Potato, Potahto,” she laughed, “You really think I look worthy of a Wayne?”

“You always do, but you didn’t have to go THIS  hard to prove a point. Only one tabloid said you weren’t enough for him,” she paused and Y/N thought about that tabloid, it upset her, sure. But she was completely aware that spite was going to fuel many of her next moves in the press, “Just the one tabloid.”

“And the one tabloid is enough to make me spiteful. Fuck them tabloids, girl, they can suck it,” she said.

“I don’t think Jason would appreciate if the tabloids blew you,” she joked.

“You don't know that, A/N,” she retorted.

“Do you know that?” A/N said as the doorbell rang, “I’m assuming that’s for you, have fun!” A/N said and waved as Y/N waved back and walked to answer the door. Yep, it was Jason.

“Woah,” he said, mouth agape, when she answered the door.

“Close your mouth, Romeo. You’ll attract flies,” she joked.

[mercerislandbooks]

For the Love of the Rom-com

While I read across genres in the Young Adult section, I have a soft spot in my heart for the rom-com. Though this genre might come across as light and fluffy, in actuality the form is able to take on topics as varied as mental health, identity, immigration, racism, and grief, to name only a few. Sure there’s romance, escapism, and happy endings, but what kept me picking up one YA rom-com after another in the last month was the window into the lives of each protagonist. More than ever I’m seeing #ownvoices authors tell stories that reflect their particular experience with the characters that they hadn’t seen in novels as young people. In turn I get a glimpse into a life different than my own and subsequently widen my world view. Here’s a collection of some of my recent reads!

Counting Down With You by Tashie Bhuiyan

The debut novel from this Bangladeshi American author (and the first novel I’ve read by a Bangladeshi American) takes the fake dating trope and turns it into a thoughtful exploration of expectations across cultures. Karina Ahmed is a high school junior buckling under the weight of Bangladeshi parental expectations and coping with anxiety largely on her own. They want her to be a doctor. She secretly longs to be an English teacher. When her parents take a month-long trip back to Bangladesh, leaving Karina and her younger brother in the care of their grandmother, Karina is looking forward to a much needed break. But her quiet month is almost immediately disrupted when, through a series of circumstances, she is roped into pretending to be Ace Clyde’s girlfriend, Midland High School’s bad boy. As the two slowly get to know, appreciate, and, of course, fall for each other, they also encourage and call out each other’s strengths. Bhuiyan movingly portrays the complex experience of a Bangladeshi American female teen, trying to meet the expectations of her more traditional parents, navigate managing her anxiety, dealing with the double standard of her gender within her culture, and learning to stand in her own power.

Tokyo Ever After by Emiko Jean

Given this cover, I expected something totally different from what the pages held. The main character of this “lost princess found” novel is anything but sweet and demure, the impression I had from the cover. Japanese American Izumi (Izzy) Tanaka is living her best average life with her single mother in the small Northern California town of Mt. Shasta. When she finds out that her previously unknown father is actually the crown prince of Japan, her world turns upside down. Once this knowledge goes public, Izzy is whisked away to Japan to get to know her father and become acquainted with the rest of her family. Having always felt out of place as one of the few minorities in her town, Izzy is hopeful that she’ll finally find a place where she belongs. But life at court is more complicated than Izzy can imagine, and she finds that in Japan she’s too “American.” Izzy’s voice is suffused with humor, so even as she struggles to fit in, her inner monologue made me laugh out loud. A slow burn romance with a hot bodyguard, backstabbing cousins, and relentless paparazzi shenanigans only add to the delicious fun. There’s talk of a sequel in 2022!

Better Than The Movies by Lynn Painter

The premise of girl uses boy next door, with whom she (seemingly) shares a mutual dislike, to get to the boy she crushed on in childhood that has just moved back to town manages to squeeze in a slew of rom-com tropes with witty breeziness. Liz makes a deal with boy next door Wes that she will relinquish the parking spot they feud over daily if he will help her get a date to Prom with childhood crush Michael. Of course it ends up being more complicated than that. Liz is confident and comfortable in her own quirky skin, but is also still dealing with the grief of losing her mother, which seems to be hitting her more sharply as all the “lasts” of senior year are happening. Spending time with Wes in her efforts to get close to Michael, Liz realizes that maybe she doesn’t hate him as much as she thought she did. Movie lovers will appreciate that each chapter is headed by quotes from the rom-coms that Liz obsesses over. I appreciated the balance of snarky banter with an honest portrayal of the complicated relationship Liz has with her grief.

Love in English by Maria E. Andrew

I’d been meaning to read Love in English for months and finally picked it up. Ana and her mother have recently moved to New Jersey from Argentina to join her father, who’s been living in the United States for some time. In Argentina, Ana thought her English was pretty good, but finds that navigating high school in America is a daily struggle in understanding her classmates and teachers. Andrew uses blocks of ##### to show the parts of conversations Ana misses, drawing the reader into her confusion and frustration. Reading this novel, I was reminded of when my family hosted a Japanese exchange student in high school, and the hours she spent translating her homework from English to Japanese. Reading what it was like for Ana, I had a glimpse into what it might have been like for Miki, and it made me admire her, and all the people who come to the United States not knowing the language. I’m certainly not proficient in any other language than English. The short chapters are interspersed with Ana’s handwritten ESL journal entries, musings on the confusions of the English language and poems that play with varieties of word meanings. Ana is attracted to a cute boy in her math class, Harrison, but also bonds with fellow ESL student Neo, who is from Greece. While romance is a central thread in the story, what I found most compelling was the portrayal of what it’s like to live in a place where the ability to communicate and comprehend is limited. Ana’s perseverance and curiosity in the face of that challenge is inspiring.

The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss by Amy Noelle Parks

Last but not least I decided to continue my theme of YA rom-coms in my current audiobook and cued up The Quantum Weirdness of the Almost-Kiss. Set at an elite boarding school for math and science prodigies, this is a dual POV narrative Evie and Caleb, best friends since childhood. Evie is one of the few females at their prestigious school, and excels in math and physics, but hasn’t shown any interest in the opposite sex until new guy Leo catches her eye - with his physics proof. When Evie decides romance might be worth exploring with Leo, Caleb has to figure out how to be supportive, despite the fact that he himself is also secretly in love with Evie. Alternating chapters between Caleb and Evie’s POV mean that we get to see what’s going on internally for both of them as Evie embarks on her first relationship with Leo, Evie and Caleb team up for a national physics competition, and the course of love takes twists and turns. While there is plenty of swoony romance, I also loved the way that Evie has grown to learn to live with her anxiety and how she sets the boundaries she needs to take care of herself while also pushing herself beyond her comfort zone. Parks does an excellent job of making the all the math and physics approachable for the layperson.

There are many more YA rom-coms to choose from in the Teen section, so stop by and see what catches your eye!

— Lori

[thebadboyfanclub]

She Will Learn (Rio x Reader)

Look I will let y’all in on a little secret, the way this account is going to work is by me seeing your requests, making a mental note to finish them and then getting an idea for another imagine that wasn’t requested but can’t move on until I write it so.... Enjoy!

P.S I chose Greece cause I am from there and I never see us anywhere

(Y/n) had met Rio when she was about to graduate college, a business major that was striving for being the first millionaire in her family. She came from a lower middle class first generation immigrant from Greece, her parents were troopers for successfully raising her and her siblings, they never had things to spare yet they had enough to be respectful.

He saw her at a restaurant, completely overdressed and accessorized like she was dining in France, however she somehow made it look like she didn’t think about what she was going to wear, like this was her natural way of dressing, her nails were done and he noticed how... soft her hands looked. 

What intrigued him was that she was extremely kind to everyone, she smiled brightly at the waiters and she would often reach over to her friends for a touch of encouragement of just a simple caress, she exuded confidence that made you feel like you would never dare to touch her, still she carried herself with elegance and in a graceful manner.

“Excuse me, can you tell me who are the girls at the table over there?”

“Oh they haven’t been here before but I can tell you they are here to celebrate for the girl in the red dress, it’s her birthday”

“Oh is it? Send them a bottle of champagne please”

“Right away Sir”

He was never the flashy type of guy, he never cared for stuff that showed his status or economic achievements, people that had money knew to never flaunt it carelessly. When it came to her, he felt the need to show off, to woo her and catch her eye, she had this sense of luxury, she looked like she took care of herself way too much to let men not treat her anything less than that.

He watched her face switch into surprise when the waiter came with the bottle of champagne, a few seconds after that her gaze went to him, as the waiter pointed towards him and then proceeded to open the bottle of bubbly. 

She had noticed him when she entered for a few moments, although she decided that since it was her big night she wouldn’t waste time gawking at good looking men, she had saved money for months to be able to afford the finest for her big day, every year she wanted her birthday to be like the life she wanted. She send him a smile as her hand went to her heart to show gratitude for the gift. 

Except that didn’t feel like enough, she felt like she could push it a bit more, try her luck just a bit, she looked too good to worry about a man turning her down, he would have to be mad or blind to do so.

She walked to him with the glass of champagne in her hand, giving him the chance to take her in. Her legs were exposed as the dress went to the middle of her thigs, they shined and looked so smooth making him wonder how good would it feel to touch them. She had a figure of a dream, as her hips swayed with every step, her posture was proud and she walked like a supermodel, if he didn’t know the owner he would have thought she was the one that had not just the restaurant, the entire block.

“I don’t think we’ve met, I’m (y/n), I wanted to thank you for the champagne, you really didn’t have to”

“I wanted to darling, I’m Christopher but people call me Rio, how wonderful to meet you”

He said, taking her delicate hand in his and pressing a light kiss on soft skin. He could smell the lotion of vanilla she had chosen to moisturize her skin, settle yet unforgettable. His raspy voice made her flustered, trying to mask it with a smirk and confidence, he was intriguing to her, the cool, calm and collected exterior that suited him so much. 

“I wish I could stay and talk but I don’t like leaving my friends by themselves”

“I understand darling, we’ll be in touch”

-

It had been years since then, he had managed to not only stay in touch with you but make her the queen of his life. She was an asset that he so desperately needed, he trusted her with his life and knew she had the best intentions for him, her loyalty was iron made, her degree came in handy when he needed to handle business in a discreet manner, she was the master mind behind a lot of his negotiations, her brilliance on playing the trophy wife that didn’t know anything in front of others was the secret behind his success. 

She is his secret weapon, so secret that no one knew she even existed, the few that did didn’t even know her name and the people that knew were the most trusted ones that worked with Rio for years, she liked to be under wraps, walking in and out of the building with the men Rio had hire to protect her and the rookies wondered who was she, he only called her with pet names when others were around but they could only address her as “Miss”, she was the miss of the mister and his most trusted soldier. 

Despite that, (y/n) was no fool. She had broken up with Rio and called of the engagement several times, making Rio go wild every time. She wasn’t unreasonable, Rio was out of line a lot of the times, especially when Beth came in the picture, his men feared her just as much as him, maybe even more, so when she found out they had done such major damage multiple times but still took them back in, she would pack her stuff and leave without warning, leaving her ring and a note that wrote “goodbye” behind. That’s when he would hook up with Beth, make up for the loss of his queen, yet when he had manage to convince her to come back and buy her a new ring every time, he felt like he was on top of the world.

“Be honest with me Mick, who did this to him?”

“Everything points in one target, Beth”

“Of course. Thank you Mick, I got him”

She stood by him throughout his healing process, waited patiently until he was back on her feet, took care of his bullet wounds and had many sleepless nights to make sure he was alright. She was his wife to be after all, even kept in contact with Rhea and Marcus, made sure they were alright and taken care of in any way, shape or form.

“Are you ready mama?”

“Almost, can you help me with the necklace”

They were there when Rhea got the call from Beth, acting like there friends even though she caused Rios life and invited her for drinks. Rio knew (y/n) was boiling, wanted to take revenge for what Beth had caused and this time he understood, so they got dressed up to meet her instead of Rhea. 

As Rio approached and took the necklace in his hands he saw it was the necklace he bought her for their one year anniversary, her birth stone surrounded with diamonds. When (y/n) let her hair down he got a whiff of her scent, still making him feel weak in the knees, he got closer to her and wrapped his one arm around her, his lips found the nape of her neck and left light kisses. She closed her eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of warmth and lust he brought her.

“You look beautiful princess”

“It’s my first time meeting her isn’t it?”

“What have you planned gorgeous?”

“That’s for me to know and for her to find out, let’s go daddy”

She knew exactly who she was. Seeing the back of her head made her want to pull out her gun and blast her right then and there, that wouldn’t be classy now wouldn’t it? She approached the clueless woman and sat on her left side, leaving the right seat empty for Rio to join later. 

“Can I get dirty martini please? Thank you dear”

She instructed the bartender before taking off the faux black fur coat to reveal a   Split Floor-Length Sleeveless Spaghetti Strap Pullover black dress. The first thing Beth noticed about the young woman that sat next to her was the big diamond ring that she wore on her ring finger, mentally thinking of what that girl had done to earn it

‘she probably hasn’t worked a day in her life’ she thought, making herself feel a little bit better, she had to admit that she looked really pretty, the jewelry she had on complimented her skin tone and the dress looked like it was custom made. (Y/n) waited for her drink to arrive before she looked at Beth and got ready to reveal her identity.

“You must be Beth, I don’t believe we’ve officially met. I’m (y/n)”

Beth looked at her puzzled. How did the young woman that looked like she was some old mans pretty young thing to show off knew her. (Y/n) was smiling as she took a sip of her cocktail, knowing damn well that Beth had already made up her mind about what type of woman (y/n) was and completely missing the purpose of this meeting.

“How do you know my name”

“Oh I know everything about you, where you live, the names of your children, your sister Annie and your friend Ruby. Rio has told me all about you”

“Rio? How-”

“I know he doesn’t talk about it, I like to be invisible to the public eye... his secret weapon as some would say. I also know you are waiting for Rhea”

“She ain’t comin”

Beth heard Rio’s voice and her eyes went wide with fear. (Y/n) let out a soft giggle and took one more sip of her drink as Beth turned to look at him like she had seen a ghost, judging by how pale she had gotten she was more of that vibe than he was. 

“Excuse me, can we get a glass of neat whiskey for the gentleman? Thank you so much”

(Y/n) ordered once more before hoping off her chair and joining Rio. He snaked his arm around her and brought her as close to him as he could before placing a kiss on her cheek.

“How you feeling mama?”

“Oh I was just having a chat with Beth”

“A-are y-you”

“His fiancé? Yes, we are planning on getting married on my homeland during the summer, aren’t we daddy?”

(Y/n) started rubbing Rios back as she smiled at him, she was super excited for her wedding, he had given her complete control to do whatever she wanted, it was her big day and he knew better than to object to anything.

“Oh we have to show her something”

Rio reached for his pocket and (Y/n) looked over at Beth who was in the verge of a mental breakdown. Rio pulled out his three bullets that the doctor had pulled out from his body, (y/n) wanted to throw them away but he insisted in keeping them, reminding him how he cheated death. 

“Lung, spline, shoulder”

He put each one down in front of her. Beth had terrible aim and for once (y/n) was thankful that one of their rookies missed the shots. Beth stayed silent, taking in all the information, not only was he alive he also had a woman he was planning to marry, calling him “daddy” right in her face, she looked like she was straight out of a magazine and even thought she was kind to her that terrified her more, her entire life was crumbling in front of her. 

“Now I think you understand that you are in a bit of a jam, Christopher has agreed that I should decide your punishment since he wanted to kill you-”

“Don’t, do that. I’m sorry babydoll, she will learn”

Beth had tried to leave in the middle of (y/n)’s sentence, making Rio grab Beth by the arm and restrain her from doing so. (Y/n) stayed stoic and just watched the scene unravel, she knew Rio would never allow anyone to disrespect her. As Beth sat back down Rio smiled (y/n) before taking her hand once more and placing a kiss on her knuckles. (Y/n) reached for his face and caressed his cheek with her free hand making Beth sick to her stomach, he had never looked at her like that, with such admiration and love.

“It’s alright, I will let it pass this one time”

“Go on mama”

“I feel like it would be too easy to kill you, such an easy way out. So now you will work for me”

“What?”

Beth felt her stomach twist at the statement. Working with (y/n), having to do daily tasks for her, a woman she had no idea even existed an hour ago, now she had work under her and take orders from her directly, for a second she thought that death would be better. (Y/n) left Rio’s side for a second and took Beth by the shoulders, standing right behind her, Beth’s eyes fell on her shinny ring, that only felt like someone was rubbing salt over her wound, he had probably spend a fortune for it. (Y/n) leaned closer to Beth getting next to her ear and causing goosebumps on Beth’s body. 

“Think of it as an assistant or maybe help Rio with anything he needs but mostly you will be on call for anything I need. Since you wanted to outsmart Rio and spit where you eat, I need some help to plan the wedding and also take care of our business. What do you think darling?”

“I think it’s an excellent idea”

Rio was pleasantly surprised. (Y/n) was one of the most intelligent people he knew, bring Beth so close to her and making her work for their wedding even though she knew she had slept with him was a very cruel and mentally humiliating way to punish her. 

She truly was one of the greatest choices he had ever done, no one could compete with her, she held such power that made Rio feel like he could not only trust her but also submit to her, let her take the wheel and not having to worry about anything going wrong. As he watched her look over at Beth there was no comparison, (y/n) had such way of carrying herself, that je ne sais quoi as some would say, she was the embodiment of female divine energy. 

Rio knew that her leaving him all these times was a game of push and pull, making him work for her and a mental slap in the face, yet every time he ran to her like an obedient dog and begged for her to come back and take her spot as his queen in the palace, promised her and gave her everything she wished for, every ring was bigger and better than the one before. It wasn’t like he did it because she wanted it, he was the one that wanted to spoil her, give her everything under the sun, she deserved everything and he was for sure not going to hold back for his sweet little princess.

“And then when all of that is done... Rio can take care of you, I feel like it would bring bad luck to our household if we killed someone before the wedding”

[hrwinter]

You’re not sure what you remember about home. If you try, it might be blue skies and warm summer rain that you played in for hours. It might be your mother washing the mud out of your clothes, frowning and asking if it was really necessary for you to roll that completely in the dirt. You told her you were just doing what the dog did.

You had a dog, right?

You’re not really sure.

Because the other memories you have are not blue and green and the dirt brown of your knobby childhood knees. They’re grey and orange and crispy charcoal black. The market you visited where your parents would sometimes have hushed meetings behind shaky hands, it’s rubble. The wind that used to blow the fragrance of fresh peaches and citrus, it’s ash. The home you had is gone.

You remember a voyage, long, dark, and ripe with a putrid accumulation of smells. You remember getting to see the water a few times, opal blue and ever shifting. It was beautiful. But the ship crashed or was attacked, you don’t know, and then it was back to the oranges of fire, the reds of blood, and the screams of your parents you’d never find.

You washed up on shore alone.

Although, not quite alone.

That’s when you first saw her. The crow. You’re sure of that. She’d been there, pecking at the sand near your arm, the same one still clutching the cheap large plastic debris. It had saved your life. You looked over the edge of it, coughing salt water into the surf, and you saw her.

It was weird. She’d surprised you. You’d never seen a bird so big and black, you thought, and she shuffled from foot to foot, nervous. Was she hungry? Was she scared?

You don’t get a chance to find out before a man with large hands is swatting her away. She cawed angrily, reluctant to go, but she did, maybe to a nearby tree. He shook your shoulders then and asked you who you were.

“Kara,” your voice came out in a croak, not yours.

“Kara,” he says again.

The crow cawed.

It’s years before you put the patchwork pieces of your life back together, that you find out what happened to you. That a warmongering company, LuthorCorp, helped exacerbate the tensions in your region then exploited and profited from them by selling both sides weapons. But that doesn’t become relevant for a long time. For now, you’re an immigrant, and an immigrant is not a very good thing in this new country.

It could be worse. There are other kids who are not as lucky as you. Somehow having never set foot here, you have dual citizenship. Your mother was American. So, despite the government calling your parents insurgents and traitors, they don’t try to deport you. Or keep you locked in a cage. Instead, they put you in foster care.

It’s hard. It’s toiling. It takes you a long while to learn the language. You’re shy to talk because of it.

And you’re pretty. At least, people keep telling you that you are. You’re not sure what you see when you look in the mirror. The kind, clever blue eyes of your mother. The hard line of your father’s brow when he’d reprimand you for sneaking too many cookies.

But your prettiness doesn’t feel like a good thing. The other children resent you for it. And it brings you a different kind of attention, a kind that has you cowering from your foster mom’s drunk boyfriend, a kind that has your crow swooping in and attempting to peck out his eyes. She almost manages it, but when he swings, taking hold of her, you jump into the fray, too. You would’ve killed him if your foster mother hadn’t intervened.

That’s right, your crow has followed you here, has followed you through it all. She’s in the tree outside of the window when your foster mother returns you to the group facility for being ‘cruel and violent.’

You didn’t do anything. At least, you didn’t do anything you wouldn’t do again, a hundred times over.

“We’re better off here, anyway,” you tell the crow sitting with you during lunch recess.

“Why do you talk to that thing?” a boy asks you nearby, trapping a soccer ball with his foot.

“She’s my friend.”

“Friends can’t be birds.”

Yes, they can, you think.

“She doesn’t understand you,” he feels the need to add, certain.

But she does. You know she does.

---

You’re adopted into a new home not long after that. It’s different than the others. They’re called ‘Danvers.’ Eliza and Jeremiah, your adoptive parents, they’re kind and intelligent. They encourage your natural abilities in science and math. You’re starting to get A’s for the first time in your life, and you’re less reluctant to speak in class.

You still feel like an impostor. It doesn’t seem like a reality that’s meant for you. You were meant for the bottom of the sea.

“You have a right to be here,” Eliza tells you, but that’s not how your new sister acts.

Your crow has somehow inferred the antagonism between you. One afternoon she swoops in to steal a large portion of Alex’s sandwich and drops it on your plate.

“Hey!” Alex shouts after her, but the crow merely glares at her with dark black eyes, wings ruffling on your side of the picnic table.

“You did that on purpose.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Alex looks between two of you, wary, parsing.

“How did you train it to do that, anyway?”

“…patience?” you improvise.

“You’re lying.”

The crow caws loudly, and Alex narrows her eyes.

“Whatever, I’m going inside.”

The crow watches her leave, and you soothe her ruffled feathers with a hand. The sheen of them always makes them seem oily, but they’re not at all. Her feathers are soft, and she preens a little under the touch. You gives her a nickel to play with. Maybe you’ll actually try to train her.

So, you make her puzzles. She seems somewhat competent in checkers. You read to her. Her favorite stories are fairy tales. Her favorite foods are unsalted peanuts, boiled eggs, shell and all. She likes apples too (you painstakingly removes the seeds, they’re bad for birds.) You feed her from the window. She sleeps in the tree there and follows you to school and back every single day. She watches you organize quarters for a state collection, nipping slightly at the plastic casing.

“I already gave you Iowa,” you tell her.

She clicks her beak back at you. Sometimes, she’ll steal your keys. You think she just likes things that you like, but you’re not sure. Alex says you’re projecting. Alex says you make up things that aren’t there, but honestly, Alex is a little mean.

Once on a fishing trip, the crow used bread to catch a fish, laying it before you all on the thick wood pier planks.

“That bird is smart,” Eliza comments, watching her chase away a hawk that seems a little too interested in the fish.

You’re proud. She’s fearless.

“Their brains are bigger than ours proportionally,” you reply with enthusiasm. You look to Alex. “See.”

“Her brain is bigger than yours,” Alex mumbles over her empty fishing line, and the crow dives down to nip at her.

“Hey!” Alex swats without making contact. The crow flies away again. “That crow doesn’t like me, I swear. She knows me.”

“Of course she does.”

“It’s meaner to me.”

“She’s a she, not an it,” you correct her.

“It’s not normal.”

“It’s perfectly normal for a crow,” you bicker with Alex. “They don't forget a face. They hold a grudge.”

“You sound like the Discovery Channel.”

“Well, it’s true. Did you know that they also mourn the dead? That they don’t migrate, staying in one place for most of their life?”

“So, you’re saying we’ll never get rid of it? Great.”

“She,” you correct her again testily. “And they can live to be 15 years old. So, yeah, you’re stuck.”

Alex quiets, and you’re thrilled to have won the argument.

But deep down inside, you’re willing to admit it’s a little weird, she’s a little weird. Crows are supposed to be social, and you’ve never seen her with any other crow. She only talks to you. She only follows you.

It would be crazy to think she wasn’t quite a crow, but something else, something more. Wouldn’t it? But you kind of do. You don’t admit it to anyone, but you do.

---

Graduation from high school is close, only days away. You’ve arranged everything for college, although not without a hulking amount of help from Eliza. She organized all of your scholarship forms, your applications, your dozens of essays. She kept you on track with projects and midterms and extracurriculars (you’re the captain of the Geology club, who knew!) And it’s all materialized into your acceptance at National City University. It’s only a couple of hours from Midvale, and you can’t wait for August.

Sometimes it’s crazy to think you’re going to college. A blonde, blue eyed girl who washed up on the beach one day like a sand dollar? You would’ve never put your money on her.

But here you are, walking a beach not that far from the one you arrived on, a big slate blue sky in front of you, wind whipping your hair. You think about the future; the new city, the potluck roommate, eighteen hours of classes in biomedical engineering.

“You’ll come with me to college, right?” you say to the crow perched on your shoulder, bobbing with every step you take.

The crow softly caws and nuzzles its head on your shoulder. It’s a rare form of her affection. Otherwise, her eyes are focused on the little crabs skittering in and out of the waves.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, you know,” you reach to bring the crow to your hand, her pointed claws clinging gracefully to two of your fingers. She looks back at you expectant and listening, canting her head to the side every now and again.

“We’ve never really talked about it,” you say as if it’s typical to apologize for conversations you haven’t had with your crow. “But you’ve always been there. You protected me.”

The crow flaps her wings a little. Is it pride? Joy?

“Thank you.”

You’re not sure what overtakes you then, but you do something you’ve never done before. Despite the fact that you’ve seen her roll around in ant piles, you lean forward and plant a little kiss on her feathered head.

Immediately, you know something has changed, that something is different. There’s a shimmer in the air in front of you, prismatic in color, and the crow flies away from you, landing, staggering in the sand. You chase after, but a crisp gust of wind blows sand into your eyes and you wobble, falling. When you scramble to your feet again, blinking and rubbing the grit out of your eyes, you don’t see your crow, but a girl with eyes as green as spring leaves, with hair as black as crow.

“You’re her,” you say as she sits up, looking confused, one armed draped across her middle.

“Yes,” the girl answers simply, shaping the word as if unfamiliar.

“You’re naked,” you announce.

“Yes.”

You strip your light jacket off, suddenly rushing to cover her. You rub her shoulders and she looks at you in that same, too intelligent way.

It is her.

You have no idea know what to say next. You just watched a bird transform into a human. It’s not real. You made it up. Maybe you passed out. You did eat a lot of cinnamon rolls right before this. You pinch yourself, but you don’t wake up. You’re still here on the windy beach, clutching a familiar creature in your arms.

In a panic, you fall back on the very first English you learned.

“I’m Kara,” you say. She sort of smiles as if that’s obvious. “What’s your name?”

She looks away, thinks hard. She has a strong jaw. Her skin is too white, like it’s never seen sun. Maybe not under the feathers? God, you think you’re going crazy.

“Lena.”

“Do you have parents, Lena?”

It’s a ridiculous question. She’s been with you for eleven years. But it’s a ridiculous situation.

“I—don’t remember. But I guess I do,” she says thoughtfully. Her voice has a raspy quality to it, not unlike her caw. “They probably think I’m dead.”

“What happened to you?”

She shakes her head again.

“I don’t remember,” then, “a curse, maybe. On my father. A woman came to our house that night. ‘A payment taken of your most prized possession’, she said. Something about an enemy loved.”

“A curse,” you repeat back. It makes sense. Even if nothing about this makes sense.

You shake your head, focusing on what’s important.

“Don’t worry,” you take her hand. Her palm is butter smooth. “Let’s go home.”

[lochsides]

Yellow Metal - cathartic Review

Here’s something I did not expect to be reviewing this week but when Zayn drops a 24 minute rap track, you fall in line. I had to listen to it a couple times through before I could even begin to make sense of my thoughts because my brain sort of malfunctioned. I have never been prouder to be a Zayn fan. He’s such a nuanced songwriter and there is so much to unpack here.

I think this is the most unfiltered version of Zayn that we have ever been exposed to (and possibly will ever be). I am grateful that he said his piece in this because it needed to be said. As a brown woman, I felt so seen by this and I cannot explain what that means to me. Thank you Z, for your unvarnished truth in addressing racism and various forms of discrimination.

I’m doing a short lyrical analysis below the cut, but the TLDR is that this is a fantastic piece of art that deserves to be heard.

I wish he had released this as an EP because that would be easier to review than a single 24 minute song, structurally speaking. So instead, I have picked out some key lyrics, going from top to bottom, that really spoke to me and decided to study the song that way. His lyricism is hard-hitting in this track. It is beyond anything he has ever released before.

“The planet bleeds, the damaged trees. It’s never leaving until we ascend so fuck the fence.” — I have not seen this lyric being talked about in the fandom, because the lyrics that follow this steal the show, rightly so, but I wanted to give this line a moment because it’s important too. To me, this lyric speaks to where Zayn is at with his relationship with the physical world. He’s out on the farm (about which he even goes to say “tell you what I like, farm life and the tractor”) and I believe he’s happy in his space and he feels connected to nature (also see River Road). So it is a poignant and slightly jaded, but valid perspective that he shares on climate change. It’s never leaving until we ascend. The damage human beings have done to the planet won’t be undone until there are no humans left to do damage. It’s a single sentence that says so much about the depth of the climate crisis. I’m doing my PhD on urban air quality so this is something I care really deeply about and I resonated with.

“And until they stop killing colour, it’s fuck the feds.” — Yeah, agreed Zayn. The systemic racism that he calls out here is echoed throughout the song, in equal parts anger and boldness. I love that he isn’t glossing over it with metaphors, which he could easily do and it would be beautiful in a totally different way, but this makes it harder for racists to overlook. There is so much power in calling it like it is.

“Never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a Benadryl, keeping it green in general.” — It frustrates me to no end to see Zayn painted as this drug-addicted lazy musician that doesn’t care about his work, because we know how untrue that is. This narrative is tired and simply boring too, and I won’t get into the racist connotations of it when you consider it against his white colleagues who smoke as much as him but that isn’t one of their defining traits in the media.

“I’m racking up excuses while I’m slacking off on work … it was hard work that got me heard” — I love the juxtaposition in this verse. The public/media perception on his career is that Zayn doesn’t put in effort or that he doesn’t want it. This obviously stems from his leaving the band. It goes back to what I was saying before about narrative, when in reality, as Zayn has said on various occasions, he fights to make his own choices. And that doesn’t have to look the way everyone else expects it to (“I beg you, don’t include me. I might write it on my shirt”), he has his own struggles that have helped forge his path, but it is his path that he paved, himself. He works hard to be heard. He has to. It reminds me of something my parents used to tell me when I was younger about being immigrants: you have to work 10 times harder for the same opportunities just because of the colour of your skin or your name on the cv. It’s a harsh truth to grow up with but it was my reality, as it is for most POC.

“This life doesn’t give you no armour, a lot of myself can harm you. I swear on what’s good, that I’m here ‘til they take me. I pray that I’m wrinkled, at least over 80…” — There is something about the simplicity of these lyrics are the messaging that I love. He isn’t trying too hard to sound poetic but he still manages it perfectly.

“All I've been achieving, clocking miles in this region, moving like a legion. Promise that I made to myself, an allegiance. Do you still believe I’m a fool for ever leaving? Staring at the ceiling, can never put a cap on achieving. I��m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving. // I’ve had about enough of being my own enemy. It’s time I grew up, a long way from 17. Always went against the grain, struggles in my life. Got some things to say when I stand up on the mike.” — This is the only 1D-related lyric I’ll make reference to because this song is about so much more than that. That said though, we cannot overlook Zayn’s experiences in the band because that is part of his story. The tongue-in-cheek of “I’m just here for the rap, then I’m leaving” is hilarious to me. The line about not wanting to be his own enemy anymore and growing up from 17 reminds me of that quote Taylor (Swift) mentioned in Miss Americana about celebrities getting stuck at the age they got famous. I think this verse is similar to that. None of them ever wanted to be in the band and I don’t care what anyone says, Zayn leaving and proving success outside the band gave the rest of them the courage to follow their own solo careers. Sure there was drama surrounding the split but he did it for himself, to tell his stories the way he is now. Whatever else you have to say about him, you cannot deny his authenticity.

“I ain’t dropping this for fame, I need this time, like therapy, it’s just to keep me sane.” — I think this line tells us 2 things, the first being that this song was not leaked. Z knew what he was doing and his twitter likes tell us as much. He didn’t release it for any sort of attention, otherwise it would be widely available on streaming platforms and for purchase. Which leads to my second point, he released this song to get everything he talks about on the track off his chest. Its referenced in other lyrics too, like “now you see where I come from, the world don’t.” This was for whoever cared to listen, not the world. It’s inaccessible for a reason. I love that he threw those lyrics in. It makes the song feel more like a private conversation or listening to a friend rant. It creates a different form of intimacy between himself and his fans.

“Lessons that I’ve learned, I’ve tried teaching to myself. What I’ve learnt from certain people is that they’re better than myself. So I surround myself with real ones, and you feel the plastic melt.” — This one is for anyone that buys into conspiracy theories surrounding Zayn’s personal life. He surrounds himself with real people, real friendships, real connections. I have never bought into the bullshit that he has zero autonomy over his personal life. I love the use of plastic melting as a metaphor for ridding his life of fakeness.

“Feeling trapped. This industry is a cage.” — Zayn is obviously not the first person to say it. Many artists talk about how suffocating the industry is ( which he further comments on in the sung portion: “I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this, no, I don’t wanna be, I don’t wanna be, a part of this”). Fame is such a wild and unnatural concept and the exploitation and politics of the music industry only feed further into it. The industry being a cage makes me think of zoos and how celebrities are animals on display, when they should be free in the wild. I also really like the musical interlude following this part.

“Nobody’s speaking the truth, I’m offended by the State. Look at the state of the news, I’ve decided the argument, reciting my views.” — Zayn toes the line between keeping to himself and speaking out on important issues, sometimes not very well. I am his biggest cheerleader, but I’m not up his ass. There have been many occasions where he could’ve done better. But I cannot fault him for being offended by the State because same, Z, same. I love that he took this song as an opportunity to real speak out, no punches pulled.

“See I’ve been facing the racists from back when I were a kiddie. Born up in 93’. Living in Bradford City, they kicked me out of the school. Said they had a problem with me hitting the kids that would call me p***, still sit in the classroom, chilling. I’m angry now that I’m older cause I see they treat us different. Got me thinking I’m the problem ‘cause they never dealt with these issues.” — See what I meant about no punches pulled. He said that! He said it like that too. There is so much in this verse that I relate to, it hits a little too deep. I grew up as a brown in predominantly white communities where the colour of my skin was the reason I was outcasted. We know when that’s happening, clear as day. The lyric “got me thinking that I’m the problem cause they never dealt with these issues” says it all. I have many racial traumas that I’m dealing with as an adult because the adults around me when I was a child didn’t deal with racism in the classroom. They do treat us different!

“20 years later, I’m still in the same boat. Tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat. Came to tell you what I stand for. Man I think you’re shit, a joke. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? // Pushing my feelings down, you ain’t got it like them. ‘Boy your skin is so light.’ Ok motherfucker, take my name up on a flight. Try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white.” — Zayn talking his shit is my new favourite art form. How can I be civil when they got me by the throat? Something that I will always be enraged by is that POC are expected to de-escalate situations of racism. We have to push our feelings down, as Zayn says in the verse, because the institution is against us. All of the institutions are against us. The fact that he takes it a step farther to say that his name makes him a target for racism, even though he is half-white just nails his point home. Also, can we please quit the whole ‘Zayn is white-passing’ bullshit. He alludes to it again later in the song (“asian in my face, but still my race you can’t define”). Its not a compliment to erase someone identity in favour of white-washing them.

“My name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” — Oh, the amount of times we have heard that age old (v. racist) saying ‘{celebrity of colour} is the new [insert white celebrity here]’ as if POC aren’t allowed to succeed in their own right. It is wild to me that Zayn has to deal with this given his level of success.

“Start to understand why they think that I’m threatening. I move in certain ways, couldn’t slow me with ketamine.” — There is a subtle nod to racism (and Islamaphobia) in this line, because of course the brown man is a threat, but I like the way Z turns it around. I also like the rhyme scheme.

“Raised on the benefit for whose benefit? They’ll never learn shit, man, if the shoe fits.” — Okay I might be reaching here, but this is just my interpretation. We all know the benefit system in the UK sucks. Being raised on benefit implies a lack of money growing up, but the benefits aren’t really all that beneficial to the families that rely upon them.

“Dealing with the hurt, they should know cause they don’t deserve it, it hit deep cause I hit the nerve.” — Well, okay then, just call me out. It’s fine. I seriously feel like he’s talking to me directly with this line. I imagine a lot of us do. Its one of those lyrics that are a bit too honest but that why we love them.

“Cathartic, I’m an artist. Trying to put my heart in” // “Freedom fighter, Yellow Metal is my name.” — So do we have an alternate persona for Zayn now? Alright, I’m down. I think these two lines are tied together, because both are mentioned in the song title. (I think of the song as cathartic, by Yellow Metal, aka Zayn, or Yellow Metal as the name of the EP if this was officially released). The lyrics that accompany both title lyrics, along with the subject matter of the song as a whole, suggest that his heart is in standing up against injustices. I said it earlier, this is the most unvarnished version of Z that we have ever been exposed to. Almost like the complete picture to the puzzle pieces we’ve been putting together over the years.

“They’re tryna kill us with disease.” — Why did this line scream out ‘COVID-19 outbreaks in developing countries’ to me? Again, I might be reaching, but there is a disparity between how COVID is treated amongst minorities, along with many other diseases, and not to mention rich, primarily white countries hoarding vaccine supplies while places like India (and my beautiful Bangladesh and I’m sure Pakistan too) suffer needlessly.

“Started something sick and on my mind is what’s next. Just became a dad so now I’m taking all the cheques. Better know I’m staying and paying like it’s debt. Imma get it done, if it’s taking all my breath, sweat, and down I ain’t messing around ’til I’m the best.” — I think this lyric shows off Zayn’s sentimental side more than it does his ambitious side, because we know he’s in this for the long haul. Others may doubt that but his fans never have. But hearing him talk openly about being a father on a song is something else. It’s like Khai added this whole other layer of meaning and purpose to his life and it’s beautiful to watch. I’ve been here since the X-Factor auditions guys!! It makes me so emotional to witness him like this.

“Aint many of me around, p***, I’m just different. Certain stages to this level aint here because fame is to the devil, fuck a label, imma do this from the ghetto.” — God, we’ve been waiting for a fuck the label moment in this house, haven’t we? I won’t get into my theories on his label or his team, but none of us deny the fact that they should be doing more for him than they are. He has the potential to be the biggest thing with the right team and promo because he has a built-in fan base that would go the mile for him. Obviously, there’s also his aversion to promo to contend with and that’s his decision. Even without it, he could shatter every ceiling. Another thing I want to mention about this verse is the nod to the complete lack of South Asian representation in contemporary Western media.

“Don’t know what’s worse: the way that you live your life or the way that you write a verse.” — I’m just putting this in here because it made giggle. Also going to take this space to say how much I love his energy in this song. He knows he’s the shit, as he should!

“Can’t be louder … so free Gaza on my banner.” // “They’re hating on Palestine ways.” — I love that Zayn has always supported this movement, years ago, before being ‘woke’ was a thing. But now, he has a daughter that has Palestinian heritage and I’m sure that makes this hit that much deeper for him, personally. The apartheid in Palestine is heart-wrenching. It’s so strange to me to watch it happen, because I never thought I would witness something like this happening in 2021, yet here we are.

“Like vipers, I see the sly ones, the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding what they might put in writing. We should be used to it by now, say whatever for the vote and then just choose another route. Say they’d never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown. I’m just telling you the facts, if you can’t take it, the truth naked, to bare bones and my thoughts lately, spitting politics.” — This verse is straight up savage and I am living for it! I find it hilarious that he called Biden a snake. This verse addresses the truth about politics, that even electing a left-wing leader doesn’t fix the system.

“I’m Tony Stark, still embarking on a dream” // “Gone green like Bruce Banner” // “He taught me like Ra’s Al Ghul. Felt like living in Gotham, the people were rotten.” — And to tie it all off, I wanted to take a goofy moment to mention all the superhero lyrics Z added in this song, really showing his personality because I’m such a nerd when it comes to this stuff and it makes me wish that we were friends so I could annoy him to death about it.

[princesssarisa]

Some more “Little Women” remarks: the problem of Beth

I honestly think most commentary I’ve read about Beth’s character is bad, both academic and from casual readers.

I understand why. She’s a difficult character. Modern readers who love Little Women and want to celebrate it as a proto-feminist work need to contend with the presence of this thoroughly domestic, shy, sweetly self-effacing character, seemingly the opposite of everything a feminist heroine should be. Meanwhile, other readers who despise Little Women and consider it anti-feminist cite Beth as the embodiment of its supposedly outdated morals. Then there’s the fact that she’s based on Louisa May Alcott’s actual sister, Lizzie Alcott, and does show hints of the real young woman’s complexity, and yet she’s much more idealized than the other sisters, which often makes readers view her as more of a symbol (of what they disagree, but definitely a symbol) than a real person.

But even though the various bad takes on her character are understandable, they’re still obnoxious, and in my humble opinion, not founded in the text.

Here are my views on some of the critics’ opinions I least agree with.

“She’s nothing but a bland, boring model of feminine virtue.”

Of course it’s fair to find her bland and boring. Everyone is entitled to feel how they feel about any character. But she’s not just a cardboard cutout of 19th century feminine virtue. So many people seem to dismiss her shyness as just the maidenly modesty that conduct books used to encourage. But it seems blatantly obvious to me that it’s more than just that. Beth’s crippling shyness is actively portrayed as her “burden,” just like Jo’s temper or Meg and Amy’s vanity and materialism. She struggles with it. Her parents have homeschooled her because her anxiety made the classroom unbearable for her – no conduct book has ever encouraged that! In Part 1, she has a character arc of overcoming enough of her shyness to make new friends like Mr. Laurence and Frank Vaughn. Then, in Part 2, she has the arc of struggling to accept her impending death: she doesn’t face it with pure serenity, but goes through a long journey of both physical and emotional pain before she finds peace in the end. Her character arcs might be quieter and subtler than her sisters’, but she’s not the static figure she’s often misremembered as being.

‘She needs to die because her life has no meaning outside of her family and the domestic sphere.”

In all fairness, Beth believes this herself: she says she was “never meant” to live long because she’s just “stupid little Beth,” with no plans for the future and of no use to anyone outside the home. But for readers to agree with that assessment has massive unfortunate implications! The world is full of both women and men who – whether because of physical or mental illness, disability, autism, Down Syndrome, or some other reason – can’t attend regular school, don’t make friends easily, are always “young for their age,” don’t get married or have romantic relationships, aren’t able to hold a regular job, never live apart from their families, and lead quiet, introverted, home-based lives. Should we look at those real people and think they all need to die? I don’t think so! Besides, it seems to me that the book actively refutes Beth’s self-deprecation. During both of her illnesses, it’s made clear how many people love her and how many people’s lives her quiet kindness has touched – not just her family and few close friends, but the neighbors, the Hummels (of course), the local tradespeople she interacts with, and the children she sews gifts for who write her letters of gratitude. Then there’s the last passage written from her viewpoint before her death, where she finds Jo’s poem that describes what a positive influence her memory will always be, and realizes that her short, quiet life hasn’t been the waste she thought it was. How anyone can read that passage and still come away viewing her life as meaningless is beyond me.

“She needs to die because she symbolizes a weak, outdated model of femininity.”

SparkNotes takes this interpretation of Beth and it annoys me to think of how many young readers that study guide has probably taught to view her this way. No matter how feisty and unconventional Louisa May Alcott was, and no mater how much she personally rebelled against passive, domestic femininity, would she really have portrayed her beloved sister Lizzie as “needing to die” because she was “too weak to survive in the modern world”? Would she really have turned Lizzie’s tragic death into a symbol of a toxic old archetype’s welcome death? But even if Beth were a purely fictional character and not based on the author’s sister, within the text she’s much too beloved and too positive an influence on everyone around her for this interpretation to feel right. This seems less like a valid reading of her character and more like wishful thinking on the part of some feminist scholars.

“She's a symbol of pure goodness who needs to die because she’s Too Good For This Sinful Earth™.”

Enough with the reasons why Beth “needs to die”! At least this one isn’t insulting. But I don’t think it’s really supported by the text either. If she were a symbol of goodness too pure for this world, then she wouldn’t forget to feed her pet bird for a week and lose him to starvation. She wouldn’t get snappish when she’s bored, even if she does only vent her frustration on her doll. She wouldn’t struggle with social anxiety, or dislike washing dishes, or be explicitly described as “not an angel” by the narrator because she can’t help but long for a better piano than the one she has. Now of course those flaws (except for accidentally letting her bird die) are minute compared to her sisters’. It’s fair to say that only “lip service” is paid to Beth’s humanity in an otherwise angelic portrayal. But it seems clear that Alcott did try to make her more human than other saintly, doomed young girls from the literature of her day: she’s certainly much more real than little Eva from Uncle Tom’s Cabin, for example.

“She’s destroyed by the oppressive model of femininity she adheres to.”

This argument holds that because Beth’s selfless care for others causes her illness, her story’s purpose is to condemn the expectation that women toil endlessly to serve others. But if Alcott meant to convey that message, I’d think she would have had Beth get sick by doing some unnecessary selfless deed. Helping a desperately poor, single immigrant mother take care of her sick children isn’t unnecessary. That’s not the kind of selflessness to file under “things feminists should rebel against.”

“She’s a symbol of ideal 19th century femininity, whom all three of her sisters – and implicitly all young female readers – are portrayed as needing to learn to be like.”

Whether people take this view positively (e.g. 19th and early 20th century parents who held up Beth as the model of sweet docility they wanted from their daughters) or negatively (e.g. feminists who can’t forgive Alcott for “remaking Jo in Beth’s image” by the end), I honestly think they’re misreading the book. I’ve already outlined the ways in which Beth struggles and grows just like her sisters do. If any character is portrayed as the ideal woman whom our young heroines all need to learn to be like, it’s not Beth, it’s Marmee. She combines aspects of all her daughters’ best selves (Meg and Beth’s nurturing, Jo’s strong will and Amy’s dignity) and she’s their chief source of wise advice and moral support. Yet none of her daughters become exactly like her either. They all maintain their distinct personalties, even as they grow. Admittedly, Beth’s sisters do sometimes put her on a pedestal as the person they should emulate – i.e. Amy during Beth’s first illness and Jo in the months directly after her death. But in both of those cases, their grief-inspired efforts are short-lived and they eventually go back to their natural boldness and ambitions. They just combine them with more of Beth’s kindness and unselfishness than before.

“She wills her own death.”

Of all these interpretations, this one is possibly the most blatantly contradicted by the text. Just because Beth’s fatal illness is vague and undefined beyond “she never recovered her strength after her scarlet fever” doesn’t mean it's caused by a lack of “will to live”; just because she interprets her lack of future plans or desire to leave home to mean that she’s “not meant to live long” doesn’t mean she’s so afraid to grow up that she wants to die. It’s made very clear that Beth wants to get well. Even though she tries to hide her deep depression from her family and face death willingly, she’s still distraught to have her happy life cut short.

I’ll admit that I’m probably biased, because as as a person on the autism spectrum who’s also struggled with social anxiety and led an introverted, home-based life, I personally relate to Beth. If I didn’t find her relatable, these interpretations would probably annoy me less. But I still think they’re based on a shallow overview of Beth’s character, combined with disdain for girls who don’t fit either the tomboyish “Jo” model or the sparkling “Amy” model of lively, outgoing young womanhood, rather than a close reading of the book.

[queenofbrooklyn]

I am bugging EVERYONE and that includes you, any spot Conlon headcanons you’re comfortable sharing?

Oh ho ho DO I?!

Okay so yes! Lots of these appear in different fics of mine or will appear in the future!

Spot was born in Ireland, county Meath, and his family immigrated to New York when he was three. He doesn’t remember his home country, but he says he does, he’s possibly deluding himself. It’s fine

Spot’s given name is Ailill (which I know, wasn’t common anymore by the 1800s but it’s my headcannon shhh) he goes by Alexander when he’s younger, in New York, and eventually says Ailill is his middle name, since the use of middle names was increasing by this time.

Spot has sisters. The number depends on what I’m writing but no matter what they are all older. The only one I’ve fleshed out at all is the one I refer to the most, Clara, but her birth name is Sorcha. She helped raise Spot after their parents died. Eventually Clara becomes a seamstress, working in a factory in Brooklyn. Clara is the only family Spot reliably stays close to, and one of the only people in the world that can match him wit for wit.

Spot is deaf, to some degree, once again depending on what I’m writing. In canon era, he got tossed around by some older kids when he was young and hit his head, it knocked him clean out, the kids ran away, and when Spot woke up he had permanent hearing damage. In modern era, it’s a car crash that does it (which you can read about in Surviving the Ride *cough cough*)

He went to the Brooklyn newsies when he was 10, and was reliably running the place by 15. It’s fine but it’s also almost too much all the time. There was a string of leaders before him, who never really let Brooklyn shine the way Spot knew it could.

He takes over fully right before the consolidation of the boroughs in 1898, when Brooklyn gets absorbed into New York City proper. This leaves Brooklyn in a hell of a bind and confuses things for a few years. The lodge house kind of gets lost in the shuffle and soon there’s no one looking out for them besides Spot. He has it handled. Definitely nothing keeps him up at night. He totally gets enough sleep.

His key is to his private room in the lodge house. It’s one of the luxuries he affords himself. It also makes sure his late night pacing doesn’t keep the other kids up.

The Birds are a Spot Conlon original. He gets some of the newsies to spy on the other boroughs for him. Originally it was when Queens was having some fighting amongst themselves and Spot wanted to keep an eye on it. Eventually -well- maybe it gets a little out of hand, he has newsies in almost every corner of the city. It’s fine, teenagers can have a secret network of spies, that’s Normal.

All of this stems from Spot’s unique ability to worry in productive ways. If he doesn’t keep it all together, his newsies suffer. That’s his logic at the end of the day.

He’s mastered the unruffled persona of a man in charge, cool under pressure, in control of everything he touches. But really he’s a teenager given too much power too early, and terrified that if he slips for a single second that it’ll all come crashing down around him.

I have more, but I’m hoping to finish a fic I’m working on with more of these details soon so I don’t want to give it ALL away.

Thanks for asking friend! I’m always willing to talk about Spot!

[bondsmagii]

Miceál, my brother has become an incel... He used to be such a smart and, deep down, sweet boy, but now all he does is play lol. He almost never leaves is room, he doesn't shower, doesn't wash his clothes, doesn't ventilate his room, all of that makes him smell like a death animal. He survives off coca cola, fries and burgers and vent his anger by harassing women and minorities. I suspect the reason he is the way he is now is because of some traumatizing events during our childhood, I guess the way he coped was playing online game to forget about everything. My parents no longer give a crap about what is he gonna do once he becomes a legal adult, but I'm personally deeply worried about him. After all, I kind of understand that after all, he's just a 16 year old who didn't get the emotional support he needed. Do you have any advice on how can I help him realize that his lifestyle is not healthy at all? He won't listen to me (nor anyone else, really), whenever I try talking to him he just tells me to fuck off and leave him the fuck alone. Sorry for bothering with such things, but when it comes to this type of stuff you seem to give good advice.

honestly, this is the worst situation I can imagine when it comes to ideology and people you care about. unfortunately the only tips I have are time consuming and often unsuccessful -- with this kind of thing, the person has to consent to helping themselves, too. if they refuse, there's not really anything that can be done.

unfortunately I'm speaking from experience. a short while ago I had a friend I was close to and who I'd known for two years. one day, totally out of the blue, she told me she felt we were close enough that I would "understand", and that she didn't think I would judge her because I was so "open-minded", and a bunch of other compliments that she laid on thick before telling me she was a TERF. her own words. she was a straight-up TERF, ran a discourse blog full of TERF shit, had an entire group of friends who were TERFs... it was a mess. at first I talked to her about it, and similarly to your brother she had been through a lot of trauma when she was younger, relating to her sexuality and gender presentation. it had forced her into making changes to her body that she regretted and was in the process of reversing. she was angry and bitter, and rightly so, but again like your brother she was misdirecting her anger towards those who didn't deserve it rather than the system that allowed it all to happen in the first place. at first it was promising, and she really did seem to realise what she was doing wasn't the right way to go and made some real progress in moving away from the circles... but then a few months later she was back into it again, sending me link upon link to "proof" and trying to persuade me that she was right. at that point I broke off the friendship and stopped contact with her.

I'm sorry this doesn't have a happy ending, but unfortunately these groups -- TERFS, incels, Nazis, etc -- are very good at targeting the vulnerable and telling them exactly what they want to hear: it's not their fault, all the shit that's happened to them and the pain and resentment they feel. it's the fault of whatever minority or group they want to target, be it women, trans people, immigrants, Jewish people, whatever. it's an attractive concept for these people because it means it's not their fault and there's a cause they can rally behind to make things Right. these groups are also very good at indoctrination, building up slowly and exposing people to the really nasty stuff when they're ready to accept it. it is a form of grooming, and it's so slow-burning and insidious that we often don't notice until it's too late. the left is also catastrophically bad at recruiting and maintaining activism because of the purity culture and the constant infighting; a lot of the jokes the alt-right make about the left are completely true. to somebody like your brother, the incel community is organised, saying what he wants to hear, and the political altnerative is a bunch of weirdos shouting at one another about children's cartoons. it's a no-brainer. he feels powerful and enlightened, which is a very attractive thing for someone who is, at root, a traumatised child.

the best thing you can do at this point, I think, is try to separate him from as much of this input as possible. you'll have to work slow, and subtle, but the more time he's away from this indoctrinating information the more likely it'll be that phase two is successful: beginning to essentially reeducate him. to do this, you need to find common ground and validate it, and then slowly turn his annoyance and opinions around to the real cause of it. it takes time and has little chance of succeeding, but unless he decides to throw it in on his own, it's his only chance.

he's still young, and while he's living at home his potential to cause harm is thankfully at least somewhat contained. be patient, work subtly, give him other options. try to keep him away from his incel friends, distract him with things that keep him busy and give him a sense of real accomplishment and satisfaction. build up his confidence, compliment him when he does something worth admiring, and try to avoid outright conflict. remember: common ground, and then gradual education. at the end of the day only he can make the final call, but these communities rely on total isolation so that even if somebody wants to get out, they've burned all their bridges and realise they can't -- they'll have nobody left. for as long as you're able, emotionally and morally, keep that bridge open for him. even having just one person to fall back on might be enough for somebody to find the courage to leave one of these cults.

[i-did]

A guide for proper terminology for Nicky Hemmick:

Written by me, a Mexican-American.

Latin American: someone from Latin America, this includes Mexico but not Spain. Latin America is multi ethnic, and not just Spanish speaking, the non Spanish speaking countries of Latin America are Brazil, Belize, Suriname, Guyana, French Guiana, and the Falkland Islands.

Latino: decent from Latin America, similar to saying Latin American, but can include people born in America of Latin American decent. People don't really say "Latin American American," they say Latino American. (Latina = woman, and Latine = neutral but not commonly used, often typed Latin@s online for shorthand to include both). Latin American countries are very diverse, some are dominantly black/Afro-Latino.

Afro-Latino: Afro-Latin Americans are dominantly from African decent, some Latin American countries are majorly black/Afro-Latino. when used outside of Latin America it can mean someone who’s mixed black and Latino. 

Latinx: "gender neutral" term for Latino, but probably made by white people because .... Spanish words don't end in x, and x isn't pronounced that way in Spanish, for example the name Xitlali (sometimes spelled Zitlali and other variations, but pronounced like an S). Honestly say Latino/Latinos or Latin@s, and in online queer spaces Latine/Latines.

Chicano: Latin American decent but born in America.

Hispanic: related to Spain, colonized by Spain, so this includes Spain but not Brazil, which is a Latin American country.

Mexican: a person from Mexico living in America, for example Nicky's mom, but often also casually used to mean Mexican Americans (or Latino/Chicanos in general).

Mexican American: Latin American decent born into America. Unlike chicano, it is associated more with the idea of assimilation into white America, but not always.

Mexicano: what Mexicans call themselves in Mexico (feminine is Mexicana).

TexMex: people who were living in Mexico, and then America bought/stole the land and said "this is also America now, you can leave or stay" and they stayed. They became Americans, Texas Mexican American culture is different than for example SoCal Mexican American culture because of this, (but still more in common with each other than not).

Anglo: someone who is non Latino, usually in reference to someone who lives in the America's that were colonized by British people and English is the standard spoken language, ex/ North Americans and Canadians who aren't Latino. Usually in reference to white people but not always. If someone is Asian American and constantly purposefully mispronounces my name, instead of being like "🙄white people" I can be like "🙄 Anglos" (or I could say gringo, which is not as nice of a term for anglo). I honestly don’t know if I can call a spaniard anglo, but I assume not, since they're not Anglo-Saxon, which is where the term comes from.

despite what the media represents, not all Latino’s are Mexican! although the two terms are often used interchangeably when they’re really not. there are 32 other countries besides Mexico in Latin America.

Mexican is technically a nationality, but because of colonialism it’s not that simple. Race dynamics work differently in different countries. Most Mexicanos are not connected with their mixed indigenous ancestors, while some still are, like the Maya. It is something that has been taken from us and has evolved into its own thing. Some Mexicanos are lighter than others, sometimes by being more related to the Spanish than the indigenous. Mexico has a huge problem with colorism and class divide as well as overall racial tension.

Mexico is also not only "white/more Spanish" "more brown" and "fully indigenous, culturally and ethnically", there are afro-latinos (like mentioned before), and also Asian latinos, specifically a large amount of Chinese immigrants from when China became communist, middle eastern latinos, etc. Latin America has immigrants too! 

I have a friend who is fully Korean but grew up in Guatemala, I have another friend from Brazil who is 100% of polish and Ashkenazi decent, her grandparents having escaped to Brazil during WWII, but she and her parents grew up and spent their whole lives in Brazil, they are Latin Americans. 

List of things Nicky's mom Maria is:

Mexican, Mexicana, Latina, Latin American, 'Hispanic' but like.... outdated term and usually when people use this they just mean Latin@.

List of things Nicky is:

Mexican-American, Latino, "Mexican" in the broad sense of the word.

Describing Nicky or his mother as "looking hispanic" doesn't really make sense because he takes after his mother who is described as very dark and therefore less Spanish decent and more indigenous decent, she's from a Spanish speaking country so... its not technically wrong, but Nicky is from and English speaking one and doesn't speak Spanish, so it doesn't really make sense.

He isn't Chicano and neither is she, she wasn't born in America and Nicky doesn't identify as Chicano or in general much with his mothers culture beyond visible features. He is never mentioned to make Mexican food, listen to Latin American music, or other aspects of Latino culture in general. He chose to go to Germany instead of Spain or Latin America, and he talked Aaron out of taking Spanish in exchange for German so Nicky could help him with his homework, (meaning he doesn't know Spanish, which many Mexican Americans don't know).

saying Nicky “looked Mexican” or “looked brown” isn’t a bad thing, Neil in the books says he’s two shades too dark to be considered tan, so... stop tip-toeing around it and call him brown instead of tan. It’s not a bad thing to be brown, and It’s not a bad thing to be Mexican. maybe I’m just from somewhere with a lot of Mexican-Americans, but when I look at people I can tell they’re not Anglos, or I think to myself “oh another Mexican” or at least “brown person” vs when I see a white person I think “white person.” I’m not face blind, I know that different races exist and look different and can see such trends in real people in the same way that when I look at a little girl I go “oh a little girl” not “what sex is this weird hairless animal, what is this alien”.

these concepts are a lot more complicated in practice, I get told often I don’t “look Mexican” but so does one of my cousins who’s afro latino and plays professional basketball in Mexico. Gender is fake but the majority of people we see are still falling into two categories on sight, it’s how we’re socially trained. 

I'm also not an encyclopedia, if you think I made a mistake let me know and I'll check it out. A lot of this was just off the top of my head and words I just learned from.... existing, I didn't exactly look them all up in the dictionary.

Also if you’re writing Nicky, don’t be afraid to get a sensitivity reader, @sensitivityreaders is a good resource for this, and so is @writingwithcolor

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: Have you watched Lupin? What did you think? (And are you a fan of the books or other adaptations of the character?)

The short answer is yes, I have seen Lupin on Netflix. Overall I enjoyed it so long as I suspended my disbelief at certain things.

Unfortunately it took being struck down by Covid and being bedridden for me to actually to binge watch the whole series. So I was behind the curve when my friends, French and those outside of France, started to talk about it around me. I had to beg them not to give away spoilers until I had seen it all.

It did surprise me that it won rave widespread reviews outside France because usually French drama series don’t travel very well outside of France. I’m sure even Netflix had no idea how successful it would be for them. I’m sure being in Covid lockdown had something to do with it. In any case I don’t begrudge its success as it’s well earned.

However I wasn’t too surprised that within France itself the French reviews were decidely mixed and divisive. The critic at Le Point painfully hit the nail on the head when he wrote, “Le plus gros défaut de l'ensemble reste la pauvreté des personnages, tous unidimensionnels, caricaturaux et aussi épais que du papier à cigarette.“ - loosely translated as, ‘the biggest flaw of the whole thing remains the poverty of the characters, all one-dimensional, cartoonish and as thick as cigarette paper’.

There’s a growing amount of good French stuff on TV and streaming services but a non-French audience will not have had the chance to have seen all of it yet. I can think of any number of French television drama/dramedy/cmedy series that are much better than Lupin with better plots, characters, and even a truer perspective of French society and even modern day France (Dix pour cent (Call My Agent!), Le Bureau des Légendes, Engrenages, Baron Noir, and Paris Police 1900). But you would be hard pressed to find anything that comes close to Lupin just for the sake of something fun to watch during the Covid lockdown.

What makes the current generation of home made French television series so interesting is how much of it is a reflection of France’s own anxieities about itself and its role in a increasingly English speaking dominating world. In a funny way it sees itself as defiant plucky Asterix fighting off the Roman American cultural hordes from totally invading their Francophone culture.

For sure, it has societal and racial issues stemming from its colonial legacy and issues of immigration and integration (France has the largest Muslim population in Europe). However it seems to want to ‘resolve’ these issues through the almost sacramental adherence to French secularist ideals rather than American inspired ideas of social justice and equity. There’s always been something very admirable about the French - from the time of General de Gaulle and perhaps before - always swinging from snooty ambivalence to outright antipathy towards the influence of American culture ‘americanising’ French culture (no to Walmarts or fast food chains for example).

Is it any wonder then that Netflix’s ill-conceived American series ‘Emily in Paris’ was widely hated and mocked within France for just perpetuating those lazy American tropes of Paris and French culture?

Personally I know Francophile Americans, long resident in Paris, who were frankly embarrassed and spent a lot of time apologising to their French friends. I have one American friend who has told me that she was so mad that she would have blind folded Emily and shoved her hard in the car boot and drive her all the way to the poorest of the banlieues in the grimey crime saturated suburbs of Paris - Seine-Saint-Denis came to mind - and dump her preening arse there. She would slap her and tell the spoilt entitied brat to make her own way back home - you know, to her spacious apartment in one of the most expensive arrondissements of Paris that of course(!) any American intern working for French marketing firms can afford.

I digress. My apologies. Watching this God awful show gives me PTSD.

Onto Lupin.

Thankfully Lupin doesn’t try to play to non-French tropes of what Paris is or isn’t. It does skim the surface of current discontents within French culture and society (race, class, power, and money) but ever so lightly so as to not get in the way of just spinning a good crowd pleasing yarn. It invites you to have fun and not to think too much. I have to be honest and say I enjoyed it as long as I suspended my disbelief here and there.

Lupin refers of course to the character Arsène Lupin, the French gentleman thief who stole jewellery from Parisian haute bourgeois and aristocracy at the turn of the century. Lupin, as written in the novels and short stories by Maurice Leblanc between 1905 and his death in 1941, was the archetypical anti-hero, a Robin Hood who stole from those who deserved it but kept the loot himself. He was often portrayed often a force for good, while operating on the wrong side of the law.

Lupin never really made much of an impact outside of France as he had within France where is revered with many French film and television adaptations. In England, we already had a Lupin type character in the form of A.J. Raffles, a cricket playing gentleman thief with his aristocratic side kick, Bunny. E.W. Horning’s stories of Raffles’ daring heists proved to be quite popular with the British public when Raffles first appeared on the scene in 1898. And even later Leslie Charteris’ The Saint took over the mantle from Raffles as the gentleman thief/adventuring Robin Hood.

I think Hollywood tried to introduce him to an English speaking audience (legendary actor John Barrymore even played him) but he didn’t really take off and eventually they found their gentleman thief archetype in Sir Charles Lytton aka The Phantom (played by David Niven and Christopher Plummer) in the Pink Panther movies. So Lupin never got the English audience he deserved.

I first got wind of who Arsène Lupin was when I was growing up in Japan as a child. As strange as it sounds Lupin was big in Japan especially after World War Two. The Japanese did their own take on the Lupin character using Japanese actors and plot lines but it was Lupin.

I don’t know how exactly but I remember watching these scratchy DVDs of these Lupin inspired films. I think it was one of my parents’ Japanese friends who was mad for all things Lupin and he had studied French literature in France. Jogging my memory I now recall these black & white films were done in the 1950s. One starred Keiji Sada and the other version I remember was with Eija Okada (he was in Resnais’ classic film, Hiroshima Mon Amour) as Arsene Lupin called (I think) Kao-no Nai Otoko. I didn’t understand most of it at the time because it was all in Japanese and my Japanese (at the time) was pitiful, but it looked fun.

There was even a Japanese manga version of Lupin which was called Lupin III, - so named because he was the grandson of the real Arsène Lupin.

The 1960s manga series spawned generations of TV series which I do remember watching and finding it terribly exciting if somewhat confusing.

It was French expatriate friends whom my family knew that introduced me to the real Arsène Lupin. They had a few of the books authored by Maurice Leblanc. It was in French so I read them to improve my French but enjoyed the story along the way.

I also remember them showing me scratchy episodes of the 1970s Franco-German TV series ‘Arsène Lupin’ with the monocle wearing Georges Descrières in the lead role. It was a classical re-telling of the adventures of the aristocratic gentleman-burglar and very family friendly viewing. I don’t really remember much of it to be honest.

It was some years before I actually started to read more of the Maurice Leblanc’s novels and short stories collection. I have them all now. I was a teen and I remember being stuck in a snowed in a Swiss Alpine chalet and with nothing else to do but pull out a few dog eared books from the bookshelves belonging to our French host and read to pass the time.

I read Les Dents du tigre, Arsène Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes, and Les Huit Coups de l'horloge and thoroughly enjoyed them in the original French. I was already reading classic detective and mystery novels (Sherlock Holmes, Poirot etc) so it was natural to read the adventures of Arsène Lupin.

I haven’t got around to reading all the novels and short stories but I have read most of them and I enjoyed them all immensely. In the same way Conan Doyle, through Holmes and Watson, manages to conjure a convincing picture of late Victorian and early Edwardian England, so Leblanc manages to give us a taste of Belle Epoque France through the eyes of his suave gentleman-thief, Arsène Lupin.

Indeed it's a lot like reading Sherlock Holmes in that you're always trying to figure out how he did it, but the difference is that you are rooting for the bad guy. You can’t help but be drawn to this gentleman thief who is charming, comic, playful, and romantic and generous. Lupin is not an intellectual puzzle-solver but first a master criminal, later a detective helper, who maintains his curious ethics throughout his adventures. In this regard he is very much the anti-Sherlock Holmes; and I wasn’t disappointed when I actually read the story where Lupin faces off with Holmes himself. Brilliant!

I’ve also seen the 2004 French movie with Romain Duris in the Lupin lead role and it also starred the majestic Kristin Scott Thomas and the sexy Eva Green.

It was a decent adventure flick and it was a clear confluence of different Lupin novels (The Queen's Necklace (introducing Lupin's childhood), The Hollow Needle (where the treasure is the macguffin of the story), The Arrest of Arsène Lupin (the gala on the ship as a backdrop) and Josephine Balsamo, (one of Lupin’s most memorable opponents in the The Countess Of Cagliostro).

Romaine Duris, a fine classical actor, was I felt miscast because he didn’t have Lupin’s levity of wit and be at ease within himself. I love Duris in his other films but in Arsène Lupin and even in his other film, Moliere, he seemed ill at ease with the role. Perhaps that’s just me.

The latest Netflix adaptation (or reimagining to be more precise) is a welcome addition to the world of Arsène Lupin.If you don’t over-think it, it’s bags of fun.

Omar Sy is immensely likeable. Sy is a deservedly a big star in France - he won the best actor César for “The Intouchables,” an international hit - and has played forgettable secondary characters in big-budget American special effects movies (he was Chris Pratt’s assistant in “Jurassic World” and a minor mutant in “X-Men: Days of Future Past”). It was reportedly his desire to play Arsène Lupin, whom he’s compared to James Bond (“fun, funny, elegant”), that led to the series, created by British writer George Kay. And it is on his charm that the series largely, though not entirely, rests.

So the basic story revolves around a jewellery heist. Sy plays Assane Diop, a first-generation French-Senegalese man in contemporary Paris. A collection of Lupin stories, a gift from his father - whose undeserved fate Assane set himself to avenge in long-delayed, Count of Monte Cristo style upon a criminal tycoon - has made the actual Lupin books a foundation of his life and profitably illicit career. This fan-ship goes as far as borrowing practical ideas from the stories and constructing aliases out of anagrams of “Arsene Lupin,” a habit that will attract the interest of a low-level police detective (Soufiane Guerrab as Youssef Guedira) who shares Assane’s love of the books. (That the detective also shares an initial with Lupin’s own adversary, Inspector Ganimard, is possibly not a coincidence.)

Among the many comic delights of Lupin, is an unspoken one. Time and again, the show’s hero, master thief Assane Diop is able to slip into a place unnoticed, or by assuming a minor disguise that prevents witnesses from providing an accurate description of him to law enforcement.

Why is this funny?

Because Omar Sy is six feet three (and, since most actors are short, seems even taller), is roughly as wide as soccer pitch, and is memorable even before he flashes his infectious million-Euro smile. This is not a man for whom anonymity should be possible - even allowing for racial bias in a majority-white country, Assane would be memorable and distinctive - and Lupin seems cheekily aware of this. Like the various incredible sleights of hand Assane deploys to pull off his thefts and escapes, his ability to be anyone, anywhere, is treated more as a superpower than as something even the world’s greatest criminal would be able to pull off.

At one point, when he’s slated for a cable news appearance as a much older man, we learn that Assane is also a master of disguise. The revelation of this skill arrives with a wink in the show, and it feels pointless to ask where he learned it, or how he affords movie-quality latex and makeup. Or rather, asking the question feels wrong.

We know this is impossible, the show seems to be asking its viewers again and again, but isn’t it so much fun?

The performances and the production - it has that particularly European filmic quality of feeling natural even when it gets stylish - keep the series warm even as the plot is made up of incredulous contraptions that require everything to go right at just the right time and for human psychology to be 100% predictable. Its physics are classical rather than quantum, one might say, and like the world itself, which becomes more curious the deeper you peer into things, it is best handled along the surface. You do not want to take too much time working out the likelihood of any of this happening. Just go along for the ride.

Somehow, though, it all works because Sy is so magnetic and charming that questioning plot logic feels wildly besides the point. Though he never looks appreciably different in his various aliases (including one ill-conceived live-TV appearance done under old-man makeup and a thick beard), he changes his posture and voice ( if you watch it in French that is) enough to allow for the willing suspension of disbelief, in the same way that any lead actor as Superman has to do when playing Clark Kent. But Sy and the show are at their strongest when Assane is just being his own Superman self, utterly relaxed and confident in his own skin, and so captivating that his ex-partner, Claire, can’t really resist him despite ample reason to.

If Assane seems practically perfect in every way, he is not perfectly perfect. His most obvious failing is that his criminal shenanigans and revenging make him less than reliable in his daily life, affecting his relationships with ex-partner Claire (Ludivine Sagnier, whom non-French audiences might recognise from “The Young Pope” and “The New Pope”), who despairs of his inability to show up on time to see his son Raoul (Etan Simon). Like Sy, Sagnier brings a lot of soul to her part - though onscreen far less, she’s as important as Sy to the series’ success - and the two actors have great chemistry. Also impressive and key to creating sympathy are the actors who play their flashback teenage selves, Mamadou Haidara and Ludmilla Makowski. Really, you could do away with action elements and build a series around them.

This is a pity because Lupin often fumbles its emotional reveals in other parts - the story of Diop being torn between his job and his family feels like wheel-spinning, rather than genuine emotional intrigue.

Soufiane Guerrab is wasted in the Young Detective Consumed by the Case role and spends most of this season pinning colour printouts of book covers to cork boards and getting waved off by his colleagues, who are all blinded or otherwise hampered by careerism.

But to my mind the weakest link is the villain himself and his daughter. Veteran actor Hervé Pierre hams it up as Hubert Pellegrini, a business tycoon who is the patriarch of the Pellegrini family. He just comes across as animated cartoon villain with no character depth (think moustache twirling Russian villain, Boris Badenov, in the Rocky & Bullwinkle cartoon shows). He just emotes anger a lot without any nuance or hint of complexity.

Even Clotilde Hesme who plays the daughter who is unaware of her father’s criminal tendencies is miscast. For the record I adore Clotilde Hesme as she one of France’s most talented classical actresses (that non-French outsiders will not have heard of). She is a classically theatre trained actress and is one of the best stage actresses of her generation that I have ever seen. I’ve seen her in plays where she is just mesmerising. She has said before that she’s more comfortable on the stage than she is on the screen. And when she has been on screen she still has been a powerful presence. She’s actually won a César too. Here in Lupin, she seems to have no agency and looks bored with nothing really to do.I really hope they give her more scenes in the next part of Lupin.

The series is at its best when following Diop enacting his plans, and when revealing each one from a different vantage, making us privy to every moving part like a magician revealing his secrets. The show captures the momentum of a clockwork heist, the tension of sudden obstacles and the ingenuity of improvised responses, with thrilling precision (especially in “Chapter 1 - Le Collier de la reine,” directed by Now You See Me’s Louis Leterrier).

Lupin is also politically incisive when it wants to be; it brings to mind Ladj Ly’s Oscar-nominated 2019 film Les Misérables, which adapted the broad strokes of Victor Hugo’s novel about the 1832 Paris Rebellion, and modernised the story by focusing on the police brutality faced by non-white Parisians.

Lupin opens with Diop disguised as cleaning staff and entering the Louvre after-hours, alongside dozens of forgotten, anonymous non-white workers as they pass by “La Liberté guidant le people,” Eugène Delacroix’s famous painting of the July Revolution of 1830 which replaced France’s hereditary rule with popular sovereignty.

Before any semblance of plot or character, Lupin centres broken ideals and promises unkept (without giving too much away, the show’s primary villain has much more nationalistic view of French culture and history which merely adds to a cartoonish caricature than a complex character). The rest of the episode is about valuable jewels once owned by Marie Antionette - one of the most recognisable symbols of wealth and extravagance in times of extreme poverty - which are put up for auction by the Pelligrini family, and bid on by other wealthy collectors with bottomless purses and no sense of irony.

Granted, beyond this auction subplot, explorations of race and class are largely limited to individual interactions, but the show continues to refer back to (and implicitly comment on) its source material in ways that wink at the audience. An elderly, unassuming target of Diop’s schemes seems like an unlikely victim at first - Diop, though he acts in his own self-interest, usually displays a moral compass - until this victim reveals the colonial origins of her wealth, immediately re-contextualising the ethics of the situation, in a manner that Leblanc’s stories did not. (The show is yet to apply this lens to Arsène Lupin himself, who Diop treats with reverence, but that’s a secondary concern since Lupin is entirely fictional in-world).

Barring some nagging structural problems - like cutting to flashbacks when things are getting exciting, or epilogues that feel ten minutes too long - Lupin mostly works. It plants a few personal seeds early on, which it keeps hinting at without fully addressing, but by the time its scattered elements come into focus, the show finally figures out how to weave them together, and delivers a mid-season cliffhanger that renders many of these flaws irrelevant.

Lupin manages to have fun even with an antiquated premise - the story of a suave con-man who charms his way through high-profile robberies - while adding just enough new spin on the concept to feel refreshing. Omar Sy may not have much to work with, but his alluring presence makes Assane Diop feel like a worthy successor to Arsène Lupin.

Lupin isn’t going to win César, BAFTA, or Emmy awards, or even turn heads for its ability to develop tertiary or even secondary plots or characters - that doesn’t really matter. You’re there to see a difficult hero be difficult and heroic - everyone else is there to be charmed, vexed, or eluded by them. Sy’s performance bounds off the screen, and is almost musical. He floats through scenes like he glides over the roofs and through the back alleys of Paris; he outmanoeuvres his foes with superior literary references and sheer athleticism. He is irresistible and also good at everything he tries, even kidnapping.

I would encourage anyone to watch Lupin for a fun care free ride. But the only caveat I would make is watch it in the original French.

If you don’t know French then put on the subtitles to understand (that’s what they are there for). The real crime is to watch this (or any film or television series) dubbed in a foreign language. It’s disrespectful to the actors and film makers and it’s silly because it’s comical to watch something dubbed over.

Please watch it in the original French.

Then go and read the books. You won’t regret it.

Thanks for your question.