#but yeah anti- homeless has now turned into an all around anti-people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writing-with-olive · 4 years ago

Text

The Stonewall Riots of 1969

1) Current State of Being (it was not good, fam, not good)

To set the scene, we’re in the late sixties. We’ve won the second World War, and suddenly everyone’s dealing with the fact that the patriotic frenzy America has been whipped into isn’t really having the same purpose it used to. Thing is, everyone’s still really heated along the basic lines of DEATH TO COMMUNISM AND ALSO COMMUNISTS. During the war, this was helpful. It created a sense of unity. But once the war was over, attention turned inward.

At this time, there was also research that queer people were "sex perverts" and a government report even came out saying

"The lack of emotional stability which is found in most sex perverts and the weakness of their moral fiber, makes them susceptible to the blandishments of the foreign espionage agent [...] the pervert is easy prey to the blackmailer.

This same report also cited a case of a gay man "who's homosexuality was used by the Russians [who were communist] to recruit him as a double agent before world war 1." Basically, the overall gist was that gay people were believed to either be communists now, or they would become communists because their brains were weaker.

Alrighty, but why were they easy prey? First, when it came to communism, they were just as susceptible as anyone else, but after steep laws against queer people were passed, blackmail became pretty real.

So... yeah, let's talk about a couple laws that were in place in the late sixties, shall we?

For the crime of sleeping with a consenting partner in the privacy of your own home you could face anything from:

A light fine

Five, ten or twenty years in prison

A life sentence

Electrical shock therapy

Castration

In addition, to target trans people, police had also dug out a law from the nineteenth century that was originally passed to supress angry tenant farmers who would don disguises and demonstrate against their landlords (law found in subsection 4 of section 240.35 of the New York Penal Code). The law stated that individuals could not wear more than three items of clothing that did not match their assigned gender at birth.If an officer thought you were breaking this law, they could arrest you and take you to a bathroom or similarly private location and have an officer who matched your presented gender either do a strip search or pat you down there to see if things matched.

Things got especially bad when New York realized they’d have to “clean up the place” in preperation for hosting the World Fair. In part, this meant a heavy crackdown on the gay community, and by extention, gay bars.

2) The Genovese Crime Family and Stonewall

At around this time, the Mob was starting to notice that gay bars were an excelent source of profit - since the prohibition era (1920-1933), limited access bars and speakeasies had popped up everywhere and since the gay community already couldn’t be themselves on the streets, they retreated to these more sheltered locations.

Three mafia members decided to open a gay bar because ohhh boy could you rake in some serious profit. Combined, the three of them put up $3500 to “renovate” the Stonewall Inn (which had gone through itterations of being a straight nightclub, straight bar, and gay restaurant in a sort of irregular cycle).

Renovations included building a stage to dance on, painting the walls black, and getting a jukebox. No running water, no fire exit, just the bare minimum. It certainly wasn’t legal.

When they opened (as a bottle club to get around pesky liquor laws), the bouncer would look through a little slat in the door and if you had a codeword or looked sufficiently gay, he’d let you in. You then had to sign up to be a part of the club (about a dollar) and write your name down on a sheet of paper. Of course, no one wrote down their real names.

The liquor in question was stolen, to begin with, and then heavily watered down with... questionably clean water, and then sold at about three times the original price in half-cleaned glasses (glasses were dunked in a bucket and then reused). Since none of the patrons really had high expectations anyway, they went with it. Needless to say, however, Stonewall was not a particularly nice place to be.

With all the money the trio raked in, a cut had to go to the Mafia man who controlled the district, and another cut went to paying of the notoriously corrupt 6th Precinct, to avoid getting the whole place shut down.

Because they were payed off, the police would only conduct their mandated raids early in the night before things got going, and on weekdays - this was when there weren’t a ton of people there, and it was easy to make it look like nothing was amiss.

3) The Raid (this is where shit gets real)

First of all, the thing is - no one knows why it happened. It just.... did.

On June 28th, 1969, at about 2am, the night was in full swing. The bar was crammed full of people dancing and drinking. The air was stuffy as usual and quite dark.

Then the bright flourescent lights come on - the signal that there was a raid and to seperate and to look less gay. The police came through, and called that they were making arrests. Everyone needed to line up against the wall and have their ID’s ready. Of course this was an issue, because just about everyone was legally not supposed to be at stonewall.

As the police began taking people outside, a crowd was going - raids at this time were... unusual to say the least. Some of the queens went into the back of the police cars without much of a fight - obviously they were terrified, but it didn’t look like there was much they could do.

One of them, however, and no one knows who for sure, was having none of this. Though Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have both been suggested as the starter of the riot, both have denied it, saying it was someone else. Storme DeLarverie, however, has both accepted and denied it was her. In an interview where she confirmed herself as the starter, she described her reaction, saying:

“The cop said ‘Move f****t’, thinking that I was a gay guy. I said, ‘I will not! And, don’t you dare touch me.’ With that, the cop shoved me and I instinctively punched him right in the face. He bled! He was then dropping to the ground - not me!”

She then turned to the crowd and yelled “why don’t you all do something?”

This was when things transformed. Objects started to fly. It was like someone had just punched a hole through the dam holding back the collective anger of the queer community.

A lot of the queer street kids, homeless, desperate, and with nothing to lose, were at the forefront of the fight, throwing anything from stones to pennies to bottles. Here’s the thing: no one really liked Stonewall - it wasn’t particularly nice or inviting or anything like that, but it was THEIRS and they were going to fight like hell for it.

Those being pulled out of the Inn started fighting back too - throwing what they could, kicking, punching, pushing back against the police. Marsha Johnson, a woman some have referred to as “basically a lesbian superhero” even climbed a telephone pole and threw an unidentified heavy object at a police car, shattering the window.

It was chaos and the crowd was still building. The flying objects didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like anyone had great aim - they were just as likely to hit a fellow protester - but there was a sense of comraderie and it made the police nervous. They were calling for reinforcements, but none were coming.

Finally, one of the police chiefs decided they had to retreat into Stonewall. They grabbed a few people as hostages and dissapeared inside, and barricaded the door. The inside of the Stonewall Inn was a wreck. The jukebox had been smashed. Same with the stage, the bathroom mirrors, and the cash register. Broken furniture was strewn on the floor.

Outside, the rioters had yanked a parking meter out of the ground and were trying to bash their way through the door, using it like a battering ram. Each thud made the officers even more nervous, and the captain, realizing things could turn from bad to horrific and deadly commanded his officers not to shoot unless he shot first. He went up to each one, commanding them individually by name, saying that if they shot without his direct sayso, they would be spend the rest of their police careers with only the worst possible jobs. To their credit, no one shot.

Outside, reinforcements finally arrived, armed in full riot gear - helmets, plastic shields, those club/baton things. They came forward in a full on phalanx. Then it started getting really ugly. People ended up lying on the sidewalk with blood coming from their heads or injured in other ways. The crowd started falling back, step by step. Finally, many of them ran.

But not to flee. Instead, they went all the way around the block and came up behind the reinforcement officers. Surprised that there was a new attack coming from behind, it was the police that began to loose the ground, and were forced to retreat back, back, back.

It was into the late, late hours of the night when the riots finally died down to nothing, the last of the crowd finally dispersed, exhausted.

4) The Next Day (aka a giant middle finger to the cops)

The shattered glass sparkled in the morning light the next day - a tribute to what had gone down the night before.

That night, the crowds around stonewall were huge. And it wasn’t just the queer community - the anti-war protesters and Black Panthers had joined in, standing against the even larger ranks of officers. The night before was a tipping point, but if momentum was to keep going, there needed to be sustained effort.

Inside, the Inn was back to normal. The Mafia had repaired the stage, gotten a new cash register, and even replaced the jukebox. It was if the efforts of the police had never even happened. Throughout the night, the queer community went in and out as though everything were totally normal - as if the police didn’t matter.

The riots were even worse than the night before, but the police couldn’t gain any ground.

Despite what was happening and the triumphs of the queer community, the press was a little less enthusiastic, aiming to diminish what had happened, taking the viewpoint of the police, or claiming the riots happened because of a celebrity’s death, and not the decades upon decades of oppression.

5) The Impact (how we got to today)

A year later, a lot of the Stonewall participants gathered to commemorate the movement. There were now several activism groups that had grown since the riots, but there needed a way to keep it growing - keep the flame from dying out.

One woman proposed that they have a march like the Civil Rights movement and Anti-war protesters were having. As soon as the question filled the space, there was unanimous consensus. Yes - they were to march.

It was terrifying. One member remembered fearing that only ten or so people would show up - that it was only going to make them into a laughingstock and nothing more. Indeed, many people had shown up with popcorn to “watch the f*gs” - it was seen almost as a show or performance.

But the moment was anything but. When the member looked back, in apprehension, what he saw wasn’t ten or the anticipated couple hundred people. No more than two thousand people had joined the parade. And not just the queer community - straight New Yorkers were there too. It was a moment of solidarity, and a demand for justice.

Every year since, there have been pride marches around the country, memorium to the community, and to the fight we’ve been fighting for a very long time, and to the patrons of Stonewall Inn who finally decided enough was enough.

6) Sources (because apparently trusting an unsourced tumblr posts is seen as an academic no-no)

(all in MLA because I just copy/pasted them from my research notes and also MLA feels official and all that)

Yardley, William. "Stormy DeLarverie, Early Leader in the Gay Rights Movement, Dies at 93." The New York Times, 29 May 2014, www.nytimes.com/2014/05/30/nyregion/storme-delarverie-early-leader-in-the-gay-rights-movement-dies-at-93.html?_r=0. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Brown, Dalvin. "Marsha P. Johnson: Transgender Hero of Stonewall Riots Finally Gets Her Due." USA Today, 27 Mar. 2019, www.usatoday.com/story/news/investigations/2019/03/27/black-history-marsha-johnson-and-stonewall-riots/2353538002/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Burey, Jodi-Ann. "'It Wasn't No Damn Riot': Celebrating Stonewall Uprising Activist Storme DeLarverie." The Riveter, Feb. 2017, theriveter.co/voice/it-wasnt-no-damn-riot-celebrating-stonewall-uprising-activist-storme-delarverie/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Carter, David. Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution. 2nd ed., New York, St. Martin's Griffin, 2010.

Duberman, Martin B. Stonewall. New York, Plume, 1993.

Edsall, Nicholas C. Toward Stonewall: Homosexuality and Society in the Modern Western World. Charlottesville [Va.], U of Virginia P, 2003.

Kristi K. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

---. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

"The Stonewall You Know Is a Myth. And That's O.K. | NYT Celebrating Pride." YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 31 May 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jnzOMxb14. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

(not in mla sorry) - PBS’s Stonewall Uprising (documentary)

++++

tagging: @veryunoriginal and @doggo038 because yall seemed pretty interested. Also my usual taglist: @candlemouse @bookdragonfanish @book-limerence

If you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists, let me know! taglists found pinned to the top of my blog :D

#queer history #lgbtq #stonewall riots #greenwich #pride parades #sources are at the bottom :D #sixth precinct #storme delarverie #marsha johnson #sylvia rivera #black panthers #anti-war protesters #american history #gay history #olive's writing vibes #guys if you could reblog this that would be awesome more people need to know queer history #yall are the best!

104 notes · View notes

miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years ago

Text

The Threesomers

(Jack x Rin x Roland)

Word Count- 4600

Warnings- language, oral sex (m/f receiving), masturbation (m/f), penetrative sex (anal and vaginal), slight alcohol use, use of special abilities (empathic, telepathic, symphokinesis)

A/N- Jack and Rin had everything they could want, especially in each other. A surprise visit from Roland shows them that's not exactly the case. Original Robert GIFs by @vousnavezrienvu new one by @neuroticpuppy love of my life

Rin was giggling as she linked arms with Jack and Roland as they headed back to the cottage. There was a feeling in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

One that emanated from both men equally. That caused her to continuously lock her lips with Jack’s. To dip her tongue far in his mouth while he emitted noises of shock. Roland was left to tap out a nervous rhythm on his pint glass.

Then, as she remembered he was there, Rin would face forward with a secret smile. Jack, distracted by pleasurable discomfort, wouldn't notice as she had reached into Roland’s lap. Her small hand surreptitiously squeezed his cock until it hardened. Her boyfriend was sitting right there, oblivious.

Now she drowned out their banter as they fumbled along the cobblestones. Jack's hand pinched Rin’s ass and she squealed. The atmosphere felt topsy-turvy just to spite Roland’s sullen demeanor. He remained cryptic over his break up with Keevy, citing creative differences.

“That's because she makes music, mate. You just fuck about like you’re wanking a radio antenna. I want to Gaelic folk songs mashed in with glam rock. Not some bloke dressed like a funeral director making a racket that sounds like murdering a baby.”

Jack took the piss most of the night. Including now. The tequila emboldened him. Made him relentless in his pursuit. Roland was, to put it mildly, vexed. It wafted from him. Rin felt the steady growing timpani drums that lined his blood as it boiled.

“Says the homeless schizophrenic who pretends to speak with the dead and terrorizes families at their loved ones' gravesites.”

The air grew thick just then. Jack clenched his jaw and squeezed a handful of Rin. She grimaced. His only response was to yank her away from the other man and to give Roland a wide berth. He started to speed up while yanking his girlfriend along.

Rin was overwhelmed with embarrassment coming from both men. That flirtation in the pub. Her sexual urges were inclinations that she siphoned right from Jack into Roland and vice versa. Under the weird jealousy (from the medium more than the musician), was desire. A confused one, but there all the same, from her partner and best mate.

Jack spun around to face Roland.

“You made decisions for a woman you barely knew and THEN insisted that you loved her after MAYBE about a week together in THREE years. Like what the fuck, mate? You put a woman in a situation where she says no and is ungrateful or says yes and she's stuck with you.”

“JACK!!” Rin cried in shock.

“Aint ye the one who took advantage of a woman in a clear manic state post suicide attempt!?”

Jack stepped to Roland. His fists balled his sides. Rin didn't think either of them could fight. Even knew how. She stifled a laugh at the image of gangly limbs and thin bodies rolling on the ground. Then she flushed as that fight turned into something more in her mind.

The Irishman started yelling. A feat Rin never knew him capable of. His anger was often quiet and simmering. But whatever was going on was being filtered through their common ground. The empathic woman they both loved.

Roland persisted, “THEN YE SHAGGED HER AND CONVENIENTLY PRETENDED YE COULDN'T REMEMBER HER!! WHO COULD FORGET WREN?! I'VE FECKIN TRIED!!”

“ROLAND!”

“You're an insufferable cunt,” Jack seethed.

To Rin’s surprise Roland unfurled. His shoulders sagged. He pushed the heels of his palms into his temples.

“The music inside my head that ye play is so sad. It has this weird,” he waved his arms around, “fake happy harmony. That makes ye a selfish bastard. You've got a home and a family and love. That's it mate love. How can ye take advantage of it? That's all I want is someone to lo-”

Roland’s words were cut off by Jack all but smashing his mouth into the musician’s. He had the Irishman by the lapel of his leather coat while the kiss deepened.

Roland’s hands searched for anything to do so they settled on Jack's hips. One found its way to the back of the medium’s head. Then their mouths parted leaving the men to stare at each other on the poorly lit path.

Rin let out a strangled sound of both desire and envy. She longed to be between the two men. All hands and mouths and tongues and bodies sharing each other. So a thought came to mind.

“Boys,” she took each man by the hand. She plugged herself back into their lascivious feelings. “Let's play a game.”

---

“What do ye mean you've never danced with anyone?” Roland looked at Jack, incredulous.

Jack sat on the couch with Rin at his feet. She was, for a lack of anything else to do, painting the fingernails on his right hand. She had all but given up on the threesome she had proposed when they came home.

There had been more kissing, but Jack let his nerves take over. He wasn't quite as eager with Roland as he had Rin back when he was new to her. Both the musician and the empath knew it was because Jack was just awakening to it. The feelings he might have for another man, other men in general. This was literally his first experience.

Roland could tell as easily as Rin that Jack enjoyed it. Not only physically by the stiffening in his jeans, but the music around him became lighter. Roland had taken that to match the music coming from the radio they had found inspecting the living room. Their kisses followed suit: soft and sweet.

Now as they sat opposite ends of the couch, Rin literally had him in her hands. She sent tendrils of calm from herself into Jack. Reassurance that it was alright. The knowledge that Roland had done this before with other men. That her partner could be sexually attracted to more than just her gender.

“Nothing ever comes up when I'm called for dancing with Birdie,” Jack's moniker for Rin. “We aren't exactly crawling with wedding invites, Rolo.”

Roland stood up and held his hand out to Jack, “Right on then; I'm an expert.”

Jack’s shoulders had relaxed but his fuzzy eyebrows were now lost in his bangs. “Whot? Dance with you? Don't you reckon we’ll look like two scarecrows?” There was a smile in his question though, and he took the proffered hand.

Roland pulled Jack off the couch and into his arms. “Of course it won't exactly be like dancing with Wren, but we’ll make due. Yeah?”

The music changed to Regina Spektor while the men figured out positioning. There was nervous giggling, a sound that was like a shot to Rin’s veins. Better than any street drug or anti-psychotic she had been prescribed by shrinks who believed she was broken. That Jack was broken. Roland could easily hide his gift, to funnel it into a career or teaching.

“It's musical empathy and kinesis,” he answered before Jack had a moment to ask. They had settled with their hands on each other's waists. The music bending into something with a steadier beat.

“How does it work?” Jack allowed Roland to sway them both back and forth. Their hips found a rhythm with ease.

“I hear music in everyt’ing. Every living t’ing has a melody. I can use music like Wren can manipulate emotions. I also give it to other people.” Roland’s voice trailed off as he pressed his forehead to Jack's, “Can we kiss again?”

Rin was overwhelmed as she watched the two of them. Her heart raced whole she saw their tongues dart back and forth. She felt a pulse take up between her legs. It was like she couldn't control herself as she began to create a friction against the cotton of her panties while the two men switched to more of a grind than a sway.

Roland grabbed Jack's ass so that he was forced to feel the erection he had created beneath the Irishman’s pants. A moan escaped Jack before he did likewise to the other man. Their kisses grew more aggressive with tongues that delved as far as they could.

Rin fingered herself now. She matched the zeal of their mouths. She let out a loud gasp mixed with a squeak that startled the men. Men who forgot she was there who now watched as she masturbated with her head back. Lost in herself now more than them.

“Care t’ join us, love?” Roland asked. His voice was thick.

Rin opened her eyes and flushed while she got to her feet. Joining them, the woman opted for standing behind Jack. She remained silent as she reached around to lift his shirt up. Jack raised his arms so she could remove it completely.

Then she ran her hands down Jack's raised arms and over his sides to his lower half. She undid the button on his jeans and unzipped him. Rin tugged them and his boxers to the ground so that he was naked.

Jack's breathing grew heavier and more ragged. He had no way of hiding his erection now as it twitched and came alive in Rin’s small hand.

Roland’s gaze lowered so he could watch as she let her grip lazily pass up and down the shaft of Jack's cock. He bit his lip and shifted on his feet as Jack reached around to hold on to his girlfriend. His head hung back like hers had been while she touched herself.

She stopped and took his hand in her own. Together, they repeated what Rin had done to Jack but with Roland’s clothes this time. Except she let her boyfriend do most of the undressing. Let him take off Roland’s shirt. Rin undid Roland’s pants, but Jack removed them and his underwear.

Only Rin remained clothed as she pushed herself in the space that had opened. She took each of them by the cock and started her strokes once more. Her fingers tightened around their erections equally. Rin twisted down the length to their balls where she squeezed and moved back to the heads. Her thumbs both pass circles around their foreskin and the slits underneath.

Jack and Roland shuddered and groaned. Above Rin, who continued to knead them nimbly, they began to kiss again. Moans of pleasure passed between them as their hips bucked under her hands. The friction she created became unbearable in the most delicious way.

The young woman felt her cunt grow slick over the sounds the men were making. The power she felt with a cock in each hand. The way she poured a bit of herself into Jack and Roland. Then each one into the other. Like mixing drinks or candy from the pick n mix. They were Whiskey and rum and tequila. Perhaps wine gums and Maltesers and fairy floss.

It had been so long since Rin had felt Jack overtaken by insatiable hunger. It wasn't that he didn't crave her sexually, he had found a way to keep it at bay. This was new. A part of himself that had been deprived through no one's fault.

Rin was growing bored of no honest inclusion. She let go of the men and turned her back to Roland. Her warm lips found Jack's chest and stomach. Soft pink tongue carved a path in the indentation from his navel up to his sternum. Rin let it flick at one of his nipples before she bit it. Her grip on Jack's shoulders to push him to his knees.

Jack gazed up at Rin while she stepped out of her panties. His large hand around her thigh got lost under her dress. His fingers explored deep inside her walls. Pumped in and out a few times while making a hook. Jack's middle finger probed Rin’s clit in fluid circles. It went unspoken how pleased he was with her wetness.

Roland meanwhile was slowly unzipping Rin’s dress. The sensation of his light touch on her bare skin up the course he had just followed down. He kissed her shoulders and her neck while she reached out for Jack's head to hold.

The Englishman pumped away at her as the Irishman massaged her breasts. His calloused fingers took in handfuls; tugged at Rin’s nipples until they hardened like his cock in her back. She leaned into Roland now that his thumbs began to trace wildly over her nipples. His motions matched the way Jack attacked that bud of nerves just inside the hood of her cunt.

Almost as quickly as they began, they stopped. Roland looked down at his friend and her partner on his knees. “Jack. Why not have a lie down? You take care of Little Bird,” Roland turned her face towards him so he could kiss her briefly, “let her sit on your face?”

The musician clipped Rin lightly on the chin. She smirked. Both she and Roland glared at Jack in such a way either indicating a desire to kill or fuck. Roland reached to palm Rin’s cunt with his hand, eyes never left Jack's who was biting his lip at the two of them.

“Roland will suck your cock,” Rin promised. A girlish grin came to her face as she bit the tip of her manicured nail. “It'll be fun.”

Jack obeyed without hesitation. He laid down on the shag carpeting. His cock at full attention; he was eager. He was filled more with the anticipation you get at the top of a roller coaster. He trusted Rin, loved her unconditionally. He couldn't believe it, but Jack trusted Roland too.

“You alright, love?” the empath asked.

Jack nodded enthusiastically, “Buzzin’.” They both laughed.

Rin was kneeling beside her boyfriend. She let her lips mingle with his. Their tongues danced ever so slightly before she crawled over Jack's face. Her fingers gripped his head again and pulled it upwards.

Instinct took over and Jack's tongue ran along Rin’s slit. He lapped at her a dozen times: long strokes and then small ones over her clit. She started to rock her hips into his face. Her grasp tighter as Jack's tongue worked deftly. He created a vacuum on the outside then dove his tongue further inside than ever before. A back and forth began that switched from sucking on Rin’s cunt and her clit.

Roland took to straddling Jack's shins so he could lower himself forward. His mouth found the medium’s stomach. He let his tongue trail along Jack's skin that quivered each time Roland exhaled. The man under him breathed in and held it when the musician finally licked the head of his cock.

Jack’s reflexes took over. He held on to Rin’s hips helping. His own body lifted off the floor. Roland allowed for the entirety of the cock to hit the back of his throat. He sucked hard as he raised his head back to release the shaft. Switching to take long licks along the length. Then he made swift little swirls around the tip.

There was a dance the two men found themselves in. Rin had a fleeting thought that she wasn't doing enough. That she could take turns between her touch and Roland’s mouth. Which was absurd to think as she felt herself begin to orgasm. She did well to not tighten her thighs around Jack as a reaction to the pleasing convulsion that started to course through her.

Just as Rin was about to cum completely, Jack's mouth stopped. He pushed her back from his face so that she was situated on his chest. He sat up and interrupted Roland as well. He knew, knew if the Irishman kept going he would explode too soon in his mouth.

“What's wrong?” Roland was confused. “Was it too much? You alright, love?” He used the same affection with both his friend and her partner.

“Our little bird is feeling a bit left out.”

“Crikey, left out? Any further north in her twat ye could've seen Scotland.” Roland winked.

“Steady on, Music Man. I mean left out from being with you.”

Jack sat up so that Rin was again positioned between the two men. Roland took to showering her shoulders with kisses. His facial hair tickled her skin until goose pimples raised up along her arms.

The medium followed suit with Rin’s breasts. His lips treated each nipple like her clit. Teeth teased them erect as his tongue went ‘round them at a dizzying speed.

“Fuck!” Rin cried out. Her one arm embraced Jack as she hooked her other backwards around Roland. Her small fingers caught in his curls.

“Would you be alright shaggin me a little. Just to the edge like I did you? Then you want to give Roland a go?”

Jack searched Rin’s eyes. She nodded with enthusiasm. “But are you sure? About Rol and me? You’re not gonna go all weird after?”

She held Jack's cock and taunted him with her slit. Her pelvis rolled painfully slow until he was fully inside of her. Rin started to grind back on Jack.

“You can fuck me too, Jax,” Roland had Rin by the waist to guide her motions.

He pulled her back so that he knew Jack was buried into her up to the hilt. Then forward and back. Now the rhythm, the dance, was the two of them. But Jack joined in by lacing his fingers with Roland's so the two of them could manipulate Rin’s body with total control.

The empath cried out as the men built a friction between her cunt and Jack's cock. His body shook, but his eyes never left hers or Roland’s.

Roland, who kissed her while Jack watched. Their fingers still linked with one hand as Roland’s other found its way around Jack's neck so that he could be pulled into a kiss as well. The three alternating tongues between them. Jack's body bucked wildly; Rin knew he was at that proverbial edge.

“Fuck me,” she exhaled in Roland’s mouth. Her neck craned at weird angles like her body to accommodate each man’s mouth.

“Go on then,” Jack instructed, “fuck her.”

Rin was bewitched by the smell of sex and the taste of herself on Jack's lips and the tribal bass of whatever Roland projected into the air around them. She was drunk on the heightened emotions as she arranged herself on all fours in front of her friend.

Roland knelt behind Rin with his cock in hand. The his free hand firm on the curve of her body. He teased her cunt with the tip as if it was his finger. Felt her grow even more wet under his touch as he lost himself inch by inch. He twisted his fingers cautiously in Rin’s hair before plowing into her. All the while Jack underneath sat back on his elbows to observe.

Rin let Roland bang her. He always loved control. Not in the dominant way. In the Type A personality way. She let him do that now, control her. Ram against her ass with his pelvis. Release all that frustration he had giving himself up for Keevey. The compromise he made to do what she wanted which triggered his self preservation. He was fucking that pain away.

She was an instrument for him to play. Aggressively so as he slammed into her with the same fury he played that stupid theremin. His grip an inch thick in the fat that cushioned her. His cock slid in and out of her with ease the way his fingers flew up and down the antenna. Fluid. Without hesitation.

Jack was in awe. His own cock remained stiff while he studied the way Roland rutted like a wild animal. Rin’s breasts as they swayed back and forth. Her teeth biting her bottom lip so hard it might bleed as she panted and cried out. The way she struggled to remain upright.

Jack was fascinated by it all. He absently reached down and yanked on his erection while watching the concentration on that Irish face. The twisted rapture on that feminine Welsh one. Their bodies made an audible slapping sound over the music. The Englishman’s wanking joined that chorus.

It wasn't very long. The theremin player was so boisterous Rin knew it would happen soon. That she would make herself cum knowing what Jack and Roland longed to do. Her cunt ached at the thought. Between Roland’s sudden explosion inside of her as he growled with satisfaction and the picture she created of the two of them in her mind.

Rin removed herself from the situation and climbed, drunk on overstimulation, to her feet.

“Why don't you lot snog a little? I’m just gonna pop off and get us a wonderful potion my beautiful broken man will need. I've got some tucked away for special occasions!” Rin giggled and stumbled towards the stairs.

“What?” Jack laughed.

“She means lube,” Roland informed him.

He cupped Jack's face and kissed him. Their tongues lingered together long enough for one to nip at the other’s. An eagerness started inside of the medium. One to learn and please as he remembered that first time with Rin.

Jack laid Roland back on the carpet and crawled on top of him. Their mouths never break as their tongues continue their strange tango. Uncertain what to do as he now let his tongue glide down over the Irishman’s neck, Jack reached for this cock.

Roland had been flaccid, still recovering from getting off with Rin. Now he shuddered and came to life in Jack's hand as his collarbone became showered with kisses. He exhaled a heavy moan when that hand rubbed quickly over his shaft. There was nothing for Jack to learn with Roland. A cock was a cock.

Rin came back in time to see the men on the floor. Jack settled between Roland’s legs that were bent at the knee. His hand expertly jerks off the musician whose hands were splayed across Jack's back.

That hot mouth and soft lips Rin knew well were moving down towards Roland’s stomach. She sat down beside them just as Jack swiped his tongue now over the head of the cock in his hands.

He was testing the waters. Rin was sending him images, feelings from each time she gave him head. From her view so he could mimic her. Jack lapped at Roland’s erection like he had Rin’s cunt, which swelled yet again as she bent to kiss her friend. Her tongue and Jack's worked in unison.

Roland started to spasm, his hips had a mind of their own as they reacted to Jack taking more of his cock in.

“Jack,” Rin said, full of love and lust, “love he's gonna cum. Are you ready for that?”

Jack looked up at her and shook his head. He raised up on his arms so he could kiss Rin. Then he looked down at Roland, “You’ll both have to show me how to do this.”

Rin opened the little tube she held and requested Jack give her his fingers. She added some of the jelly to them and gestured at Roland. “You’ll have to get him ready like you do me. Think of it like fingering a twat only..”

“Tighter,” Roland finished for her. He bent his legs in a sort of frog position. Rin was impressed by his flexibility.

“That's debatable,” she teased. “Go on love, one finger and then the other.” Rin laid down and propped up on her elbow.

Jack reached to find the hole. Roland gasped but happily not out of shock as Jack slid his finger inside. In and out a few times, hypnotized by how quickly he treated it like Rin’s body. It wasn't much different he thought to himself as he added the second finger.

He pumped his fingers at a constant tempo. Further each time with Roland encouraging him. Jack went quicker, deeper as he locked eyes with Rin. There was a fire in her he hadn't seen that spurned him on.

“A bit more,” Roland groaned.

Jack obeyed and watched as the Irishman shivered and contorted like Rin when he managed her GSpot. Was this it? Men had one too? No wonder they liked getting fucked here. Why would women?

“Now lube your cock, and do the same.” Rin found a way to kiss Jack. Then Roland. Her own fingers followed along with her boyfriend’s as she played with her clit.

Jack sat up on his knees and took a generous handful from the bottle. Rin smirked beside Roland who could only bite his lip and stare at Jack's cock as he stroked it harder. He pushed down on Roland’s knee so that he was spread further apart. The young woman flicked at herself faster, her fingers getting lost inside of herself.

“Steady on, sweetheart.” Roland could only moan and anchor himself on the medium’s thin hips.

Jack started to deliberately thrust his shaft inch by inch inside of Roland. Rin was right, it was tighter. But that didn't stop Roland from encouraging Jack to go further. He was alright. More than alright he cried out.

“To the hilt, Jack,” he whinged.

So he complied. His hands under Roland’s ass to lift it upwards as he dove in. Jack's pelvis met Roland’s body and he rolled his hips so that he was nearly out of the other man. Then slowly inside of him one more.

The medium was gentle. Soft and careful like he had been with Rin, or so he thought. Well, at first. Until Roland took to begging him to fuck harder. Faster. So Jack pumped at him until their bodies made that symphonic sound of bone and skin and cock and ass.

Rin fucked herself harder. Her fingers worked her clit at the same wavelength as Jack fucked Roland. She knew it was happening for all of them. Her back arched off the carpet and her cunt contracted around her fingers.

“FUCK!” she squealed.

That white hot volcanic explosion tore through her and Jack and Roland. The three of them connected in an endless cyclical orgasm. Rin sent out those tendrils, the filaments of experience so that the men she loved knew what it was like to cum as a woman.

The same, as whatever song crescendoed in their heads, for Rin. That salty liquid that spilled from her men, her Irishman and Englishman, felt like it was pouring from her walls too.

“Blimey, Aderyn!” Roland laughed as Jack collapsed on top of him. He scooped both of them up in his arms and held them to his chest. A kiss on each of their foreheads before nuzzling his own into Jack's.

Rin and Jack shared breathless little kisses. They locked fingers, and he lifted her small hand to brush his lips across the back of it. The light reflected something shiny and gold.

“Birdie, where’d ya get that ring?”

Rin held her hand up and flexed her manicured fingers. “Isn't it DIVINE?! I found it on the floor in our things. I think someone left it here, but we can ask Mrs Barrow. It's such a lovely little diamond at the center of this gold flower.”

“It's not too small?” Jack propped up on his elbow.

“No! Look at the two hearts beside the beautiful daisy. Whoever it was loved this ring and his partner very much.”

Roland had the biggest grin on his face, “Go on then Jax. Do it proper. One knee and all.”

“Jack?”

“I had a question to ask."

#robert sheehan #jack #roland #rin davies #jack x rin x roland #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan smut #three summers #the messenger

36 notes · View notes

superman86to99 · 3 years ago

Photo

Who’s Who: Sam Foswell

(art by @donsparrow)

If you’ve been watching the CW’s Superman & Lois, you’ve heard the name “Foswell” a whole lot, usually in an exasperated tone. That’s the jackass who fires several Daily Planet employees in the early episodes, including Clark Kent and, most devastatingly, Whit, the heart and soul of the Planet. In the comics, Foswell plays a very similar role, with some slight differences that probably won’t make it to TV, like when he makes out with a satanic being masquerading as an angel and then transforms into a muscular demon (someone correct me if I’m wrong and that already happened in the show but I missed it, somehow).

And so, for anyone who might be wondering “Who’s Sam Foswell?” or “Which DC Comics does Sam Foswell appear in?” or other Google-able phrases that might lead people to this page, we present the definitive comic book history of this classic Superman supporting character (”classic” meaning “he was in the comics I read as a kid in the ‘90s”).

Sam first showed up in Superman #51 (1991), soon after a storyline in which a satanic being/nightclub owner called Lady Blaze steals the souls of Jimmy Olsen and Perry White’s son, Jerry -- who is actually the biological son of Lex Luthor, but should NOT be confused with Lex Luthor II (for one thing, Jerry never slept with a gooey other-dimensional being shaped like Supergirl). Superman manages to save Jimmy and Jerry from Blaze’s hellish realm, but only one of them comes back to life. Unfortunately, it’s Jimmy. I mention all of this because, after the death of his son, Perry decides to quit being the Daily Planet’s editor-in-chief for a while and cedes that title to long-time staff member Sam Foswell, who must have worked in another floor, because we’d never seen this guy before.

It’s pretty obvious right away that Perry would have been better off leaving a janitor or something in charge. In Superman #52, Foswell asks Clark for help using Perry’s computer and seems surprised to learn that those crazy Kent and Lane kids are working on a story together (they’ve been dating for so long that they’re already engaged). In Action Comics #665, he has to beg Clark to go from freelancer to full time staff member because he’s just way in over his head. Up until now, Foswell basically seems like a clueless grandpa running a major media outlet, but he’ll soon become far less adorable...

Clark’s full time salary must be pretty good, because in Superman: The Man of Steel #1, Foswell says the Planet is suddenly having money issues and fires some people. Among them is Jimmy Olsen, who literally just signed the lease on his first apartment, so excellent timing there, Sam. But hey, at least this means Jimmy’s concern that his new editor would “bust his chops” was unjustified! (Because he has no editor, because he’s unemployed.)

(Fun fact: That other girl Foswell fires is secretly the daughter of a DC hero, as part of a storyline absolutely no one noticed, which I’ll write about another time.)

Jimmy only finds out he’s been fired in Superman #57, and he tells Foswell he’s gonna regret it. I’m not sure what Jimmy meant by that, but it probably wasn’t “I’m gonna spend several months homeless and living in my car until a drunken bar owner takes pity on me,” which is what happened. Anyway, on that same issue Foswell says he’s gonna write an editorial praising the Eradicator, who was in his “murder criminals and forcibly turn the Earth into Krypton” phase. When Clark objects, Foswell not so subtly threatens to fire him, even though he was practically kissing Clark’s ass just the other day.

Foswell goes all “Mr. Slate from The Flintstones” on Clark again on Superman #58, this time because he thinks Clark overslept, like he does every time Superman has an early morning emergency. While at it, Foswell also gives Lois crap about some expense reports, leading to an adorable sequence where Clark kisses her at super-speed while she’s being chastised, without Foswell noticing. After going around firing and antagonizing people for several months, Foswell still seems baffled to learn that no one likes him in Adventures of Superman #481. Yeah, this guy’s not the most perceptive journalist ever.

Continuing his quest to become the most hateable Daily Planet staffer ever (not surnamed “Olsen”), Foswell writes an anti-Superman editorial in Superman #59 -- he says that if Superman really cared about Metropolis, he’d take over as CEO of LexCorp and create more jobs. Ironically, Foswell treats his own employees so poorly (the ones he hasn’t fired, I mean), that in Adventures #482 a bunch of them go on strike start heckling him... not very effectively, but it’s the thought that counts.

Perry comes back to the Planet in in Action #670 and the first thing he does is call Foswell and the other higher ups a bunch of idiots for mistreating their employees. Foswell goes back to being a regular staffer after that, but he’s so unpopular that they finally kick him out in Action #677. Foswell tries to get a job at Newstime magazine (the DC Universe’s version of Newsweek and Time) in Superman #68, but the owner, Colin Thornton, basically tells him to go to Hell... which is a spoiler of where this story is going.

This is where things turn really dark for old Sam. The next time we see him, in Man of Steel #14, he’s at the cemetery visiting his wife and son (or someone else he affectionately called “Little Geoffrey,” anyway) and thinking about joining them. Even the Babadook is like “damn, poor guy”...

And sure enough, in Superman #70 Foswell actually jumps off a bridge -- only for a beautiful angel to save him and promise that his fortunes will change if he “pledges himself” to her. Later that same issue, Foswell runs into Colin Thornton again and is offered a job as Newstime’s editor on the spot. Everything’s coming up Foswell! He even gets a smooch on the mouth from that hot angel!

Unfortunately, Foswell’s new “angel” girlfriend is actually the satanic Lady Blaze in disguise. This is leads to “The Blaze/Satanus War” saga (starting in Adventures #493), in which Blaze tries to invade Metropolis by teleporting demons through Foswell, since his soul belongs to her. In Action #680, she convinces Foswell that Superman wants to kill him for firing his pal Jimmy, so Sam fully gives himself to her and becomes a big, muscular demon creature (whom this blog dubbed “FosHELL”).

In Man of Steel #15, Superman is told that the only way to prevent Metropolis from literally going to Hell is to kill Foswell. This seems like it’s setting up a big heroic sacrifice scene, which would have at least given the character a dignified end, but nah. Instead, Superman ends up teaming up with Blaze’s evil-but-less-evil-than-her brother, Lord Satanus, to defeat her.

Once Blaze is taken care of, Satanus restores Foswell to his dweeby human form in Superman #71... but only because he now owns Sam’s soul and thinks he might be useful some day. Oh yeah, and Satanus is secretly Foswell’s boss, Colin Thornton! So he owns the guy in both the earthly and the satanic realms.

I guess his new demonic master never found a use for the guy, because this storyline was the last time we ever saw Sam Foswell... until he was brought back by a TV show in 2021. And he also got new art by our own Don Sparrow!* At last, everything really IS coming up Foswell. Until the show kills him off to bring back Perry White, anyway.

*Foswell fanatics can see Don’s full artwork without that pesky logo in our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/51941393

#superman #superman & lois #sam foswell

15 notes · View notes

0aurelion-sol0 · 4 years ago

Text

SNK 134: Why we need to move forward.

Well...

That's horrifying...

Oh but whatever they are probably bad people in there. Thieves, greedy people, hateful mothers, men who beat their wives , liars, bullies, killers, murderers, rapist, child rapist and racist babies.

Yeah...

This is a rhetoric that has been used for ages and is currently being used in this fandom especially on reddit and 4chan.

The justification of injustice.

When George Floyd was slammed on the ground and died because he couldn't breathe anymore, conservatives and republicans at large ignored the police brutaliy leading up to that.

He was just a cocaine or drug addict who one day pointed a gun at a pregnant lady. So he was a criminal and deserved that.

Of course ignoring the racial segregation that happened from the very legalized slavery hundreds of years ago and how poor and racially stigmatized black people are being in America right now.

When the Uyghurs are being genocided by China, the world blinds itself because China is one the worlds necessary assets in economy as it basically produces a good chunk of what is being used in the world. Most made by children, " but it makes us live "... Apparently that's the only logical reason...

When Palestinians and Israelis are literally killing each other over some complicated non sense that no one ever really understands and also Israël basically doing Apartheid at this point,

When the totality of the Middle East has turned into a warzone because of the United States's violent imperialism,

When most far right or extremist group decided that Islam and Islamic terrorism are the same thing,

When xenophobes and racist always attack immigration,

"If she wasn't wearing that skirt, she probably wouldn't have been raped",

When we have homophobes, transphobes, LGBTphobes, telling us what's natural and always bragging about "\___-_-___/ God, Holy Jesus",

When you have people who tells you that poor people chose their way of living when there are a small percent of billionaires and soon to be trillionaires having such a gigantic amount of wealth,

When 6 millions Jews were genocided which was 40% of Jewish people at the time and 2/3 of European Jews,

When the prime minister of Israël is saying that the Holocaust wasn't Hitler's Idea but Haj Amin al-Husseini, (who was extremely anti semitic, don't get me wrong)who suggested it to him maiking the prime minister a revisionist but at the same time making his actions against Palestinians justified,

When around the world Christianic places of worship are being vandalized,

When entire SYSTEMS of segregations have made societies work,

When the South American continent has been attacked by the United States because of different political beliefs,

When people use their rape as a way to attack other communities of a specific religion or color,

When Black Panthers uses racism against White people because of the story of USA and are being anti semitic but essentializing a whole group,

When Nationalistic Israelis tells you what is a good Jew and what isn't a good Jew,

When dozens of groups have been forced to extinction,

Natives who were being murdered, yeah? YOU DON'T SEE THAT A LOT IN YOUR COWBOY MOVIES ?

When literal "feminist" calls for the destruction of men while they can't educate the kids about what to do and what not to do, OH, can also be transphobic apparently,

When you have entire websites who encourages pedophilia,

And pedophiles killed, left alone and live a life of endless torment while no one does nothing to help them and fight those who encourages it even in the highest places of our society,

Oh and Hollywood, that's all I need to say.

And let's not even talk about animal brutality and the destruction of ecosystems.

And there is more and more and more and more and more and FUCKING MORE,

All that because of reasons, reasons, reasons, reasons,

All stuck in a cycle of hate, violence and discrimination that just never ends.

The selfishness,

The greed,

And at end, everything is meaningless. There is just blood.

This is what this chapter represent the meaningless of it all. How everything goes to shit...

How everyone, whether it's the oppresor or the oppresed, will justify the violence, the injustice.

Society does nothing cause society right now runs for the entitled and the entitled only and creates it's own monsters.

I want to ask those people who defend the rumbling.

After everything we saw in this manga, after what the real world has commited, after how much these real events have inspired this story, how can you say it was the only way ?

After everyone hided Hange valuable informations including Eren who had information about KRUGER who was a spy in MARLEY. Who has created a civil war in Eldia and activated the rumbling while killing Eldian civilians in the way.

After seeing the mental breakdown of Bertolt, who we don't hear about anymore, Annie and Reiner's mental breakdown over GENOCIDING AN ENTIRE GROUP OF PEOPLE, by the way Reiner totally didn't develop another persona at that time to cope with what he was doing, HUH ?

After all the deaths, Carla, Grisha, Dina, Faye Marco, Levi's squad, Ymir, Erwin, Sasha, Hange, Hannes, Floch and many others, how can you go and be like "CHAD EREN, BEING DADDY, FUCKING HIS MEAT WAIFU, PHILOSOPHER FREEDOM SEEKER"

"104th crybabies... xDdDDDD Prfrpfr"

Come on...

This isn't serious at this point.

And for the H character, we're gonna come back for her but...

GODDAMNIT!

THANK YOU, DEATH.

This has sparked debates.

Some are thankful for this speech by the commander.

Others are finding it disingenous.

Others think it's too on the nose and not natural.

Others don't care.

On my part, I enjoy it but I take it with the context. Most of their airships have been destroyed and they are facing their doom upfront right now. It's more of a death plea at this point. Just like in the cave with Histor... GOD IT'S SO HARD SAYING HER NAME... with Historia who said truly horrible things at the point of an imminent death. At that moment, words like this can tell what you really are inside but even that is not enough to have a full picture.

It did have some interesting elements.

It is true, using, raising, breeding hate and shoving problems upon a group will always come bite you up the ass someday.

Marley in their extensive and violent coloniaslistic, imperialiatic behavior towards Eldia creates only weaknesses for them on an international field and create this monstruosity that is right now Eren.

Eren, a soldier who suffer from trauma and PTSD, who has terrible insecurities and everything to lose after losing so much and possibly in my book being influenced by another entity decides to kill them all.

But...

In no way does that justify Eren's actions, in fact it goes against it.

He is just as angry and hateful as they were back then but instead of destroying the system, he decides to genocide.

Essentializing the whole world as your ennemy and problem, and deciding to get rid of it is just continuing what has been started and continued for hundreds of years before.

No one ever thinks about the simple families, the innocent children, the homeless...

What about them Eren ?

What about the people who faced discrimination like Ramzi ?

What about the other groups that are almost extinct just like yours ?

What about the groups that tried to support the Eldians but were considered freaks ? HUH ?

What about the babies and innocent children ?

Isayama is even spelling it out for you this chapter.

Is he not worth it ? To stop all this ?

He was born into this world just like every other baby.

Look at that while everyone, is trying to jump off, their trying to save the baby. Even if it's probably impossible. That's humanity right there.

And... jesus christ...

I literally saw people who said that the mother was dumb to give it to the people because titans were behind them.

I can't even...

Imagine if Eren is the daddy of H's Baby and that he completes the genocide, killing his friends or even persuading them and at the end he is saying you are free to this baby.

So this baby is worth more than this baby ?

He is more legitimate to live than him.

I can't even imagine what the arguments would be like with the Eren stans:

"He's protecting his friends."

While literally challenging them to fight and right now trying to kill them.

"Well, you know the Rumbling is horrible but they got what was coming for them. They did nothing to help Paradise."

While forgetting the complexity of human nature, how banalization of these acts of violence have come to be BECAUSE...

These just like me and you are just simple people. With simple lives and not too much power who can't do anything about it.

Most of the people today sees all the suffering in the world, they just don't have the power, nor the will to go against such complex geo-political conflicts.

Would you be able to just resolve the Israelo-Palestinian conflict ? I don't think so, so shut your ass down with this argument.

These people can't change the world with power that they have and the one that has the power to change that, is killing them right now. BRAVO.

" Well, uh, the child is a child, parents might be racist and uh... child maybe is racist or will become racist..."

God...

Just because someone has done horrible shits or is an horrible shit doesn't mean he should die like this.

Here it is people, how we work as human :

Fuck redemption and possible solutions, let's kill everyone who did something bad.

Y'all would have been perfect during monarchies time.

And like... having an argument on a baby should face genocide is just fucking disgusting.

AND DON'T GIVE ME THE BULLCRAP OF FICTION DOESN'T EQUAL REALITY!

That you are interested into what could bring the Rumbling in terms of thematics and story is fine.

BUT ENDORSING IT ?

Do y'all even hear yourselves sometimes ?

You just sound like every racist, bigoted, fascist and violent person that has ever existed.

You're just excited to see someone die because he commited something wrong, sadistic pricks.

You're no different. Perhaps the guy who was talking to Grisha in chapter 97, who was a Marleyan and gave serums to Eldian is right. When he was talking to Grisha, Isayama use it to break the fourth wall and talk to the readers.

Why do we watch this, all this violence ?

" Because it's fun!"

" People take peace for granted!"

" Of course we're abnormal in society's eyes."

" We wish to exterminate all eldians!"

" Your sister did nothing wrong. Shame she was an Eldian!"

The fun fact is that this guy is a racist fuck but he dies pushed by Kruger and killed by his very own creation: a titan.

Why do people endorse genocide ?

" Because it's justice!"

" They got what was coming for them!"

" Isayama is just showing us that genocide is not really wrong if you just understand the concept of morals. Puritans."

" Humanity can die, they deserve it!"

" I'm sad for Ramzi, he didn't do nothing wrong but you know... maybe he didn't have good ideas about Eldians."

While also saying why children could deserve genocide. \____@-@____/

Of course I found most of these on Reddit and 4chan, the nazi propaganda website. Tumblr is a little free of it.

Babies....

Literally babies...

That remind me of somethin'...

OH YEAH!

QUEER NO MORE.

*put gloves on*

PUUUUUUUSSHH!!! COOOOOOOMMEEE OOONN!!!!

Breathe...

I SEEEEE THE HEAAADDD, IT'S HEREEEEEE!!!!

Natalie, bring the bucket, quick!

Of fuck she shitted on herself a little bit!

_________________________________________

So ?

Y'all like my fanfic ?

It's about how Erehisu is canon and how Historia is actually thinking about Eren right now because she is blushing.

But also about how Historia actually looks good and sexy while being pregnant and how she looks so happy!

She also is a lesbian that turned straight.

I'm so proud of my work.

_________________________________________

In all honesty...

This is... dissapointing and an insult to Historia fans. Why ? What is the purpose or the reason ? Being tragic ? To show how far Historia can go to protect her loved ones ? A female Eren so ?

I always leaned towards the fake pregnancy even if I don't know how something like that could be really pulled. I didn't understand this choice for his storytelling. The others I understand but this one...

O_o

What the fuck ?

So she really is pregnant ? But nothing leading up to it makes sense.

The character whose thematics still rings too much true for this arc is put in the background and as a breeding farm on top of that.

It even came to a point I started people to stop asking about her.

I had faith in her presence in the final arc. That she would have a role play.

But now ?

/\/\/\

For people who don't understand why this aspect of story is wrong, we have to break it down.

First off, Historia one of the first queer characters with Ymir in SNK. Others are suspected but these two are the few that holds a definitive representation as queer.

Most often in media or in real life, LGBT people have been forced into a situation that requires them to fall under heterosexuals lives. Here Historia is forced to be pregnant, yes in a way she agreed because of her people, but at the same time she didn't really want it.

For queer people, like me, this still rings true. Too much true. People literally forces you to go for your opposite sex everytime, to have a family.

No, stop forcing your view of your own life or desire of life on other people.

The fact that the fandom rationalizes that and says that she is happy and in love with Eren is just so fucking weird.

It either is blind ship following, heteronormativity or not understanding the story.

And I saw people saying she might be bisexual. This doesn't change anything. Also ignoring the fact that she hasn't shown any attraction to men other than women in the story.

If she is bisexual, it doesn't change anything, she is still queer. Not semi-straight AND EVEN IF SHE WAS A WOMAN WHO HAPPENED TO BE STRAIGHT, SHE IS STILL FORCED INTO SOMETHING SHE DID NOT WANT.

Bisexual is not semi-straight, semi-gay.

It's bisexual.

Bisexual, Straight and Homosexuality are not the same thing.

And if she was straight, that doesn't make it acceptable. It's just sick.

Just because you're a straight woman doesn't mean you are going to be more happy or have god like duty to have kids.

I just don't understand it...

A manga who was so progressive with his female characters reduces Historia to this.

Imagine...

Just imagine...

Eren is the father. I would shoot myself in the face. A forced straight relationship at the end for the pleasure of shonen readers and heteronormative readers.

" What if I have baby, Eren ?"

" Only if it is from me. I want him to live and have FREEDOM!"

" It's open bar, honey." *saying this after hearing the guy says he's going to genocide which goes against her own values and actions as queen*

Ew... Just ew...

And even worse she wasn't supposed to give birth right now, she was supposed to give birth in a few months.

She could DIE. SHE IS 19. This is dangerous.

Everyone is like this is normal.

THIS IS NOT NORMAL. *sigh*

This goes against what she is supposed to have as a character development.

The fact that she would be okay for genocide while as a queen she reached out to the most weak and in need is fucking incoherent.

No. This doesn't make sense. Even Eren said that Historia's action as a queen were to help others. How could she be okay sitting at her house ? Telling no one about what Eren was going to do ? And becoming a breeding farm ? What is the logic in that ?

Why make it suspicious than ?

The only thing that was able to make any logical sense to me was that the person we are seeing here isn't Historia.

I know if my theory is right, it's sick, even more sick.

The only times we saw Historia after the timeskip was during flashbacks, the reveal at 107 and possibly at the end of 123.

If this is her at the end of 123, I want to ask you why is she all prepared, why is she all dressed up and why is she wearing the same clothes in 134 that she is wearing 107. Something doesn't add up.

She is young, small-petite, blonde and her belly and face are hidden.

I was only able to go through the theory that this is a fake Historia. Than who it is than ?

Well, I searched for female characters who look like her or who could look like Historia right now. From all the characters that we haven't seen coming coming back and that has interacted with Historia, there is only one.

Rico Brzenska.

For those, who don't remember her : She was a Garrison Member who helped Mikasa and Eren during the Trost Arc and also helped Historia while she was exhausted during the Clash of the Titans Arc.

She hasn't appeared ever since the start of the Return to Shiganshina Arc unlike many of the older characters.

She is the only one I see who could pass as Historia I think.

I know this is still sick. But this is the only way I would be able to make Historia get out of this crappy storyline and play some relevance in the story. And if we look at Rico and Historia in 107, they kinda look the same. They have the heart shaped face, they are both small and they both have this sort of closed eyelids.

One line that just stuck with me of Rico was:

"Hiding/Lying about Eren's rampage in the report wouldn't have benefited humanity. "

This was during Eren's trial before joining the Survey Corps. What was discused was when Eren lost control of himself during the Trost Arc and attacked Mikasa.

The second line that struck was the one where she holds Historia who is exhausted in her arms:

"Wow! Who is this girl, is she okay ?"

I don't know why it just pushed that theory. And I kinda believe it now, because no one can make me believe that there is something satisfying coming out of this. Why would she sacrifice herself for Historia ? Well, I don't really know but Rico was always a little wary of Eren, even after the Trost Arc but yeah ultimately for Rico being able to give her own life for Historia. I don't know about that. But with this manga you never now. It is a very dark and twisted theory but this is the only logical thing I can see right now since no answers have been provided.

Monkey is BACK

Zeke is back and like most of us predicted, Eren dragged him with him. And I'm not gonna lie, the way he was attached to the spine was pretty badass.

He is used as a puppet which reinforces the theory for me that all three of them: Eren, Ymir and Zeke are being used by the Attack Titan.

I cannot understand Eren's illogical behavior especially after seeing the train scene where he says he wants them to live long happy lives and than having him kill his friends.

Ymir the first being free and having eyes to returning to having no eyes just like before and Eren.

And Zeke would have never agreed to the Rumbling. And we can't see his eyes either.

And...

Thank you, 104th for existing.

Because...

After how much shit they have gone through and after how much the fandom, not just the Eren stans, have mocked them. Like the fandom has been the biggest asshole to the the Alliance while they were the ones who were able to survive through the sentence " Genocide is wrong!" that so many people seems to find to be so hard to say.

I will root for them until the bitter end, I don't care. They are the one who are fighting. You can call Cringevengers all you want but I am glad they are winning.

They all suffered like Eren but they didn't prioritize their own and only feelings above everything else and they stood by for the values they fought for since they joined the Survey Corps. Even if I have to admit they have, for most of them, conflicted feelings with what they were doing and have done things like trying to talk to Eren while it's obvious he wasn't going to talk and that in a situation like this I don't think someone would try to stop Eren by just talking.

Levi, and it would be foolish to not recognize it, is being consumed by his promise but he is restraining it and still is able to think about the bigger picture.

There's one thing I really like about this is Armin asking Eren:

"Eren... I'll ask you one last time... "What part of you is free" after we rip you out from there... "

Hehe... yes... what part of you is free ?

To be honest, there's many things I don't want for the ending.

A Lelouch Ending, it was all Eren's plan. Literally wouldn't make sense. No one would be questionning his free will and he wouldn't have these weird shits happening to him.

A Code Geass ending, why would Mikasa have to kill Eren, what does that add to her as a character ? More tragedy ? No she doesn't have the scarf, it's pretty telling what place she's at right now.

Eren being the daddy. NO, JUST NO.

Everyone dies, genocide is the right thing. You know all the worst shit that can happen.

But most of all I want important plot points to be explored and moved over because ever since the timeskip, there has been no important plot points out the way. Eren's behavior, Ackertalk, Bertolttalk, Historia's Condition, Paths stuffs, answers!

Whatever... Trust me Peace is not something I take for granted. Being proud of myself and having a life with the least conflict and problem is something you fight for. Having rights, being recognized as a human.

Never lose that, fight for it. But never with injustice, be smarter and stronger. Cause at the end what unites us is not only what we have in common but what the perspective of what we have not in common can make a bigger picture of what we are as humans. We all are different and have a different story with similarities but in the end, we are human and born into this world. And in that, we must move forward. In the present, because of the past and for the future.

We all wish for the problems to go away but if it's for the solutions to be rigged with injustice, it will not work. No one has acheived with genocide and never will.

It's kinda sad that this long of a post has to say this. Did y'all see that ? Pretty inspiring what I wrote. Oh well you know what ? If they can be bigoted why can't I myself.

Here's a song I wrote:

(Fuck everyone and you.

We hate women

There are only 2 genders, the breeder and the breeded.

Everything is degenerate.

We hate brown, Arab and Muslim people.

Genocide is cool

And Hitler was too.)

I know but you know what, at least if they want a spy for Nazi Germany someday. They'll know not to give it to me because I'd laugh at the stupidity of the people just like you and I are doing with the rest of world cause for all the shits it gives us, it's entertaining.

youtube

55 notes · View notes

cosmicclownboy · 4 years ago

Text

Me finishing something I struggled to write....wow it was actually likely :)

When his father is alive the idea of going to therapy is suffocating. It continues to be throughout his years in the air force until the day it's mandated because by that point everything was suffocating. Waking up. Doing his physio. Simple tasks.Hard tasks. He had survived against all the odds but a part of him felt dead. So a part of him was in this limbo where he always felt like he was dying. The first session he stares at the clock inching the minutes until the clock hand rests on the hour change. The second he stares at the glass of water. By the third session he's exhausted he hasn't slept he still hears the screams and the blast in his mind so he slowly lets the man in not to everything. Not to his dad but to the blast. He was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and he was offered many ways to help with it. He goes to his sessions. He does his physio. Alex slowly builds himself up then he goes back to work.

It goes well for the most part until someone slams a door shut and he has to spend an hour in the bathroom trying to eradicate the weight on his chest and how to stop feeling cold. His therapist offers anti-anxiety medication and whilst he nods his head eyes cloudy he hears his father's words.

"Manes men don't cry it's a sign of weakness. We are soldiers, not Sally's"

He tries different antidepressants settling on one that helps his thoughts slower and that helps him sleep. None of his friends knows it when he heads back to Roswell except Kyle after he's let in on the alien secret and he makes him his doctor in case of shenanigans.

His father dies and he thinks maybe things can be different better in a way he never thought possible. The statue gets put up and he has a panic attack so bad he spends the next two days in bed. It takes him two weeks to think about it really think about it. To face the battle he has to jump right in and the idea of therapy doesn't seem so suffocating any more he's no longer afraid just determined to make strides. With Kyle's help, he finds one that specialises in childhood domestic abuse as well as having experience with veterans. She helps him in ways he didn't think was possible and maybe a year ago the idea of the traffic light method would have had him rolling his eyes or silently repressing whatever emotions he had. But maybe this could be a good thing.

Michael is the first to notice they are on a recon mission together and he's passing across the really good coffee from Bean me up he raises his eyebrows at the sight of an orange bracelet.

"Didn't think you liked orange? expanding the airforce's colour scheme?"

He huffs at that. Who said he didn't like orange?

"My therapist said because of my upbringing and complex PTSD I have a hard time vocalising or communicating my feelings so she suggested a traffic light method. Green is a good day when my emotions are in check. Orange is okay I can manage the day. Red is when-

"everything too much"

"Yeah. On red days I write down everything as to why it's red including my triggers and talk them over with her. It also helps people around me recognise when I'm in that headspace"

Michael shuts his door purses his lips and blows into his own coffee cup.

"I'm glad you're talking to someone"

"Me too. Now, are we gonna recreate a buddy cop movie extraterrestrial style or what? Come on, Guerin don't tell me you don't want to unleash your nerd. This is a safe place"

Michael takes a swig of his own coffee shaking his head before chuckling and taking the wheel. Maybe they share a lot more longing looks then friends would normally. They've just always had a connection under the surface beating and bubbling all on its own.Unspoken and beautiful.

More often then not he wears the orange one. The first time the green bracelet graces his wrist is the day the homeless dog he found slowly offers her belly to be rubbed. Yeah, that day was worthy of a green one. The day Nova finds him and the days that follow which end in his house having a dog bed in pretty much every corner. He might end up replacing his leather couch but who cares it's just a couch. It has nothing on her.

It's only when the days veer closer to the fourth anniversary of that day he truly struggles. Phantom pain comes in waves and he grips every surface he comes in contact with. The days slowly blur together it's a cocktail of depression, sleep deprivation and nightmares that has him on the Tuesday reach for the red bracelet. He finds the Crashdown is a minute from where he is and he's in desperate need for coffee.

Communicating hasn't always been easy for him and Michael especially their fight and flight being fight or fuck over the past decade but they've been trying their hardest to strive to be better to build a foundation. The bracelets were always something Michael immediately sought out every time they were in each other's vicinity. He saunters into the Crashdown buckle first and smooshes himself into the booth without a second thought grabbing one of the menus and seeing what new alien pun food Isobel helped conjure. It isn't until he finishes his order smiling at Liz that he finally looks up to Alex who's completely dissociated. His eyes are dark and sunken his milkshake untouched and he just looks lost. Michael's eyes drift to Alex's fingers noting the tremors before his eyes peer up further and he sees the red bracelet. Michael has a choice at this moment he could leave Alex to it but something in his heart tells him that the days of leaving are behind them. So he slowly reaches for the right hand that tremors and lightly laces the fingers between them. By the time he's halfway through his fries, Alex is more self-aware. He looks to their joined fingers and Michael's mouth completely stuffed with fries and looks softly at him. He doesn't unlace them.

"Want to get out of here?"

They end up in their spot the desert vast and unnerving.

"Did I do the right thing driving us here does it bring up anything we can go back if you want? You never really told any of us what to do on a code red day".

He's right he didn't say to any of them what to do. Truth is anytime Alex usually has one of these days he locks himself in a room and allows every ugly emotion to override him until his body tells him otherwise. Today was a new one in that he wanted connection. He wanted to be with Michael and despite the fear of the unknown he confesses this to Michael.

"It'll be four years Sunday"

"Since your leg?"

Alex nods he doesn't really know how to delve into it the only people who know what happened are the people at the airforce. People don't ask they don't want to know and the people who do aren't worthy of the conversation. Not to mention a lot of his job is classified he can only offer what he can.

"It was meant to be a simple job. Twenty of us in and out.Forty minutes on the dot. I was meant to hack a server. We got to the room we swept the entire place we didn't realise there was a pressure-sensitive bomb until Avril took his foot off. He was the youngest".

Recalling it makes his body shiver his hands shake but he needs to do this.

"Only eight of us made it out. Everyone else had spouses and kids. I had a dad who when I woke up from a two-week coma said I couldn't get blown up right. I didn't understand it. I'm good at compartmentalising stuff it's what he taught me to do my whole life but that day...I felt everything then nothing."

They lay there for a while staring at the stars tracing them with their fingers with one hand lacing the other. There's a light breeze softly swaying in the air Alex softly turns his body to Michael's until they are laying on the side facing one another.

"I get that feeling"

The confession Michael makes his heart ache and tighten he ushers the cowboy closer his fingers searching for his curls to slowly run his fingers through. Michael ends up the little spoon and judging by the little hum he makes he thinks he doesn't mind a little bit. Michael had the essence of a cat it's one of the many reasons he loves him.

"I know you do"

He pulls Michael tighter resting his head on his curls lightly pecking the crevice of his head.

"I think it's probably why we push each other away so much. I don't want the painful stuff I've been through to trigger or touch your stuff and neither do you so we pick a reason to walk away thinking the other one will be better off. I haven't been better off have you?"

Michael removes himself from his hold much to his disappointment and sitting up because he needs this conversation to be that of what it is a conversation.

"There hasn't been a day you've been gone where I thought that Alex. I'm just sorry for so many things"

"me too"

By the time he makes it to his house Alex is wiped he needs to feed Nova before she barks the house down. He also should really clean his prosthetic liner doesn't want to wind up getting sick. Not to mention taking his pain meds. Trust Michael to recognise all of this and tells him he'll feed her. He wants to argue but his eyes are drifting.

When he wakes up there's a glass of water his pain and anxiety meds on the bedside table and he's trying to remember how the hell he made it to his bed. Last time he checked he KO'd on the sofa as Nova was yipping at Michael's feet.

Michael.

Alex fumbles for his crutch and heads for the living room maybe he shouldn't make a presumption but he's pretty sure he knows his alien from the back of his hand and sure enough, he comes across to Michael and his Nova sharing the couch or Nova dominating both these things as if they are her own. It's the first time in a long time he's slept and he's hoping it's the first of many times he wakes up to Michael in his house. By the time he makes it back to the bedroom, he's staring at the red bracelet on his wrist and the notebook Michael also placed by the pill bottles sticky note on the top with a drawing of a lopsided penny. He spends twenty minutes writing it all down his triggers that day the way he felt all to make sure for his next session he can talk about it continue to make progress. By the time he's put the pen down and taken his anti-anxiety pill, he's greeted by his girl in the zoomies frame of mind.

"Hey, girl. Do you want to play? Give me a minute to put the leg on sweetie and I'll take you to the garden"

He stares at the three bracelets all meaning different things. Today isn't a red bracelet day so he turns to the orange one. It makes the most sense, doesn't it? Today he can manage yet there's something calling him to the green one. Can he go from red to green from a couple of hours? He'll make sure to ask in his next sessions but Nova excitedly barking wanting to play is reason enough for him to tie the green braids to his wrist.

"Do you always feel the need to dramatically lean against doorways".

His Michael senses are tingling he can't decide if it's a loving Michael thing or maybe the whole cosmic alien soulmate thing.

"You're wearing green today".

"Observant too"

He takes the coffee on offer delighting in the way the black bitterness soothes his soul.

"I think today could be a good day. Nova's happy. Plus you and I had an actual conversation which didn't end in tears, fucking or brokeback mountain angst"

Michael's not wearing his hat or his belt he's just leaning against the door frame with bedhead of the ages curls veering in every destination. He wants to run his hands through them and hold him. Fuck it who says he can't. He curls his head into his shoulder much to his surprise and tucks his arm to hold his waist. He feels the chuckle rumble against his ears

"We've had what ten years of it angst is overrated. You know what's underrated?"

"What?"

"Having breakfast. Holding hands. Watching a movie. Being boyfriends"

Alex feels a kiss against his head and peaks up to Michael softly cupping his cheeks he makes sure Alex's eyes are on his not looking away.

"I love you. If you aren't there yet that's okay. I don't want to mess with your recovery. If you don't want to be with me after everything that's okay too. I just want you to know I'm here and I'm not going anywhere"

Alex puts the cup of coffee down and brings his head up so their foreheads touch.

"I love you too".

Alex knows love won't cure everything and being with Michael doesn't mean it's automatically going to be green bracelets all the time. The red bracelet won't cease to exist. He still gets red days. But he does know this. Whatever the day and whatever colour he wears Michael will rub circles into his hand and hold it just the same. Some days he has a depressive episode or an anxiety attack and between his therapist and the people he loves they help him recognise it's okay. It's okay to be loved. It's okay to need and want people. His father's words can stay in the ground with him. Alex is finally content.

#malex #malexfic #this ended up really long #woops

46 notes · View notes

loving-jack-kelly · 5 years ago

Text

Alright I broke time to post my quarantine au idea

jack lives in a shitty apartment building with thin walls

he knows all the business of his neighbors. all of it.

like he knows when a couple gets in a fight. he knows when people are getting it on. he knows all the weird workplace gossip of the people around him

because it’s a shitty apartment building and the walls are like paper

when quarantine starts, it gets both stressful and funny

jack makes money off of commissions, and he had enough already lined up that he’ll be okay for a little bit but not really in the long run

and his day job was labeled non-essential and he got laid off so he’s a bit worried

he doesn’t really know his neighbors that well bc why would he really?

they’re all living in a shitty apartment building and working shitty jobs with shitty hours, when they get home they’re not in the mood to socialize with the random people who live upstairs

and then the landlord sends the notification that he still expects them to all pay rent during quarantine

that makes jack mad bc yeah he can afford rent right now assuming quarantine ends in a month and he gets his job back but if neither of those things happen then spending his money on rent is not really an option

and he draws a little venty political cartoon about it and posts it in the elevator

and the next time he’s in the elevator somebody has added a little note

and suddenly the elevator is a bulletin board where they’re all talking to each other without actually seeing each other

and they decide to go on rent strike

and suddenly Jack is attaching names to the faces he vaguely knew and the lives he’s kind of overfamiliar with thanks to the thin walls

like oh, the guy I see in the lobby sometimes is also the one with the cat that breaks things a lot and he has a name and it’s Crutchie

and the couple that exchange horrible coworker stories every night are the guy who death stared at me so hard i thought i was gonna die once and the guy who’s almost obnoxiously cheerful every time i’m in the elevator with him and their names are Spot and Race

and the new guy who i thought was so pretty the first time i saw him actually lives right next door to me and is the only person i don’t know weird facts about because he’s generally pretty quiet and lives alone and his name is davey

so they decide to rent strike against their landlord (Pulitzer obviously) and in the process discover new friends

found family babey

they’re all young and living in shitty apartments and most of them have a reason for being on their own and they find comfort in the new friendships

so like listen the main goal is to rent strike so none of them end up homeless but zoom meetings to figure out the strike terms turn into zoom meetings to watch somebody cook dinner like a masterclass which turns into people leaving meals outside other people’s doors

which turns into zoom birthday parties and Netflix party nights and making a Minecraft server and playing smash bros together and visiting each other animal crossing islands where applicable

*ben Wyatt voice* it’s all about the found family (and being anti-capitalists because eat the rich y’know?)

#Asper Yells #txt #newsies #that's all i got thanks #i havent done a bulleted hc post in Forever #like years i feel like #probably not actually years but that's what it feels like

128 notes · View notes

watchtheworldargue · 4 years ago

Photo

egg magazine, april 1990. interview with Michael Hutchence

transcription below :)

Michael Hutchence on Lower Broadway

By Hal Rubenstein \ Photography by Steven Meisel

Globe-hopping is hell on a wardrobe and hard on the feet. Sometimes you have to get out of the limo to spend your money.

Michael Hutchence rarely comes to New York without luggage monogrammed INXS or Max Q, so one would think that on a visit without portfolio, the last thing he'd want to do is add on more baggage. But given a free day, a book of tickets, and our offer to go anywhere to do anything, Hutchence got into the limo with an agenda we could hardly call a new sensation. What kept us from sulking was that he hadn't left the devil outside.

Michael: You think we can load this car up with Yamamoto, Comme des Garcons, and Armani by 6?

Hal: Driver, step on it. Down to Grand and make a left.

[The car turns onto Union Square West.]

Isn't there a club on the corner here?

The Underground.

That's the one that keeps surviving regardless of how many people get shot there. How many are they up to?

No one's quite sure.

Where are we now? I don't recognise this.

This strip of lower Broadway didn't exist last time you were here. Now it's like a mall-less town's Main Street.

And Tower Records is City Hall. Not bad. It's wild to see this much activity because people around the world now talk about New York in terms of decay, how New York is such a rude place, and we keep telling them, No, New Yorkers are quite friendly, we like it there. New Yorkers are just very honest. They don't have time to bullshit. I like New York because people are linked to each other. L.A. Is fun, but segregated. Here there is a metro, and a different philosophy of getting around so there's rich upon poor upon rich. The only thing I don't remember is how many homeless are asleep on Park Avenue and everywhere else. Or is it my imagination?

No, it's real. How come you choose to live in Hong Kong instead of Australia?

For about three years, I thought it didn't matter where I lived. But I kept passing through it again. I grew up there, from when I was four until twelve. My dad still lives there. It has great energy, like New York. And it's ten hours closer to the world than Australia is. If you travel a lot, it adds up.

[We enter the Yohji Yamamoto store.]

So austere. Do they go wild if you hand back anything wrinkled? Those clothes over there are good acid-house colors. Has acid house caught on here?

Not like in England.

That's 'cause New York has bad radio. Are these dogs always here? They must sleep in the shoes. Ooh, look at these here. Not very me, but very Star Trek. $500 for a T-shirt. I see. I'll buy six. No, twelve. Now, here is something very stagy. Ultraflouncy. I like that, but the general consensus might kill my career.

Is what you wear onstage the same as you wear off?

I sort of smush them all together. My favorite piece of clothing is a leather jacket I had made for me that says “Hutch” in chain mail on the back.

Did Michael Schmidt make it for you?

Yeah – how'd you know? He's great. He sort of looks like a beautiful snake. He loves all the Hollywood stuff, but he's so sincere when he talks about it. Almost makes me like it. Is there somewhere funkier we can go, like Yankel's House of Pile? I saw that on the way down.

If you want old clothes, we should go to Cheap Jack's.

[We head back up to Broadway and 13th Street. Several young ladies on the corner stare at Hutchence as he enters Cheap Jack's.]

Do you enjoy recognition?

Depends on where I am.

Like when you're out on your own. Shopping, for instance.

Shopping, yeah, 'cause I get discounts. And there is a definite bonus to recognition when I'm onstage.

It makes the night go faster. But I'm not an institution yet. Sometimes I think about how hard it must be for someone like Bob Hope to go for a stroll. I don't really get hassled. I can stand in the middle of a street in London, or even New York, and usually nothing happens. I don't think I have that distinctive of a face. I got recognized in Tangier once, going by in a taxi, very fast … from a distance … in a fog … during monsoon season. Just kidding. It's odd how once you are conscious of being watched, you stop being so self-conscious because you realize there's nothing you can do about it. Of course, nobody in Hong Kong gives a shit who I am.

Aren't people there freaking about the city's eventual realignment with China?

Thousands are leaving a year, but they're the ones who can afford to leave, to give Australia half a million to let them in, though a lot more are going to Vancouver or New Zealand instead because they've heard, and it's fairly true, about Australia's racism.

It's actually more like unconscious racism. There's a naivete to it that you might call charming if it wasn't so sick. See, most foreigners don't realize – because we refuse to believe it ourselves – that Australia is southern Asia. Australia is linked to England in everyone's minds.

Yet most Australians don't have the faintest idea why the Japanese tried to invade us during the Second World War, and can't understand why they might not have wanted any foreigners on the biggest island in the Asian paradise. If we had lost, my home would be covered in rice paddies by now. Australia would have been Japan's Great Plains, their grain barrel.

I've never met one Australian who knows that. We have it so easy in Australia. It's very easy to live there. Tougher than it was before, but that's because five years ago it was ridiculous. I used to live in a three-story, five-bedroom house. It cost me $20 a week.

Did you make that much playing music?

Nah, but so what, we were all on the dole. Everyone went on it. That's one of the reasons you have so many bands in Australia. It's cheap to live and collect, so all the bands go on it. You wouldn't even have to go pick up your employment check; they'd mail it to you or transfer it to your account. Ready cash. I guess because there is such an anti-authoritarian vibe in Australia that people are quite happy to accept government checks. “Aw, screw 'em” - that's the attitude. Lots of people accept four and five checks or even have jobs. It's very lax. That's why we're stuck with the tall-poppy syndrome.

Translation?

Don't be successful, don't rise above your mates, or you'll get chopped. It's weird. It's the don't-leave-the-pub way of life. I think people in America are generally happy for someone's good fortune; they know how to let themselves go. In Australia, they go, “Good, mate,” and don't ask a single question. There are no celebrations for a job well done. I'm still shocked at how Americans cheer you on when they like you. I know you don't fancy it anymore, but I like phrases like “dress for success.”

And that's why you're shopping here?

I love hideous ties. Girls love 'em. Dunno why. Its like red socks. Are the playing Richard Hell? I haven't heard this song in 20 years. God, you must hear better music in clothing stores than you do anywhere else in New York. All these baseball jackets are so cheap. You know what they pay for these in Australia? I should buy the whole lot, take them back. I'd never have to tour again. I could get 150 to 200 bucks just for the ratty ones. I think this is the first clothing store I've been in that wasn't playing videos.

Are videos big in Australia?

We've actually been involved in music video a whole lot longer than in America. Because we are so far away, the only way we've had to understand all this music flying around the world is through video. Since the '50s, even when it was only 10 minutes a week, Aussie tv has been showing music videos.

And we don't censor the way you guys do. The “Way of the World” single is a very serious song, but MTV is quite shy of the video, you should note – I say this diplomatically. They censor here for all the wrong reasons. Like it's okay to stare at Cher's crotch for four minutes, but it's hard to say something truthful about the state of the world.

Could it be because with a group that's become as wildly successful as INXS has, it's inevitable that favorable reaction always turns?

I don't think INXS has reached that point yet. Give us four more years. We've only recently become hip in England. At the beginning, they hated our guts.

Why?

'Cause we are Australians writing pop music, why else? They don't make much in England, apart from nice jumpers and Jaguars, and one of the few things they can claim some turf on is pop music. So, they're not happy when someone else does it. It's a standard trait of island people; they're very territorial.

But you guys are island people too.

Yeah, but we got a bigger island. Now, if we can just get rid of some competition from the expatriate colonies.

Isn't it enough already with this rivalry between Australia and England? L.A. And New York have settled their feud.

England still treats Australia like we're descendants of convicts. Well, I guess we are, aren't we? We're trying to get rid of them, but unfortunately, they're coming back with money and buying up half the country. Don't you resent the Japanese buying Rockefeller Center?

I resent the Rockefellers more.

[Having tried on everything and bought nothing, Hutchence decides against old clothes. We head down to If boutique.]

Armand Basi. Nice stuff. That Claude Montana is fabulous, but God, this stuff is expensive. We don't know anyone here for a discount, do we? My father used to design clothes for a shop in Hong Kong called Dynasty. Glitzy evening wear for too much money. One year, when we did our first tour, we bough ta lot of Sprouse, real colorful stuff, and we spent a fortune, especially when you consider it's disposable fashion. All it had to do was last a month. All the buttons fell off, it shrunk, seams opened up. We would have been more upset, but it made us homesick for the mother country. Disposable fashion is very English. The nice thing about it when it comes from there, however, is that even though the stuff falls apart, it's cheap.

Ah, I like this. Very sexy, very smart. Basi, right? I found the best underwear. I think it's called Nikos. Someone gave it to me last night. Well, that's a plug. No names, please. These pants might go with the Basi shirt. [Like Navy pants, they have over a dozen buttons instead of a fly.] Not good clubwear. Certainly not quick enough to please me.

Your choice of underwear would have to be very discreet.

And always clean. Maybe these pants come with a catheter. Should I ask the shopgirl? [He raises his arm to call her and, wincing, puts it down.]

Just realized a colostomy bag wouldn't hurt?

No. I think I have a cracked rib, from too much fun the other night at Inflation, this super club in Melbourne. Melbourne has some of the best clubs in the world. Great people. Amazing clubs. Sydney has nothing. Boring as hell. Nice place if you're a surfer. Really pretty, like L.A. But very corrupt, Sydney. Everyone is always paying everyone off. That's why you can't afford to do a club there. It's like, in order to get a club license, all the other nightclub owners have to agree to your having a license. And four people control the voting on that. Melbourne now has a club called Razor that is so exciting. It used to an automobile club, especially popular during the '50s, where people used to talk about their cars, you know, with photos of Mini-Minors making hairpin turns around corners. Like a racing club, I guess, except for slower cars. Razor gets the best people.

[He picks up a pair of huge, get-lost-in-the-rain-forest-and-survive black shoes and delights.]

Many people have shoe fetishes. I guess it's around the world actually, not just with Imelda. I think people are probably just jealous of her because they secretly wanted so many pair. But these are big, like size big. Are Americans getting larger feet, or do they just want more room? I always notice shoes when I'm here.

There's almost like a $100 tax on shoes in Australia. Like a pair that will cost you $50 here will cost you almost $200 in Australia. A pair of Levi's cost $100. I never buy furniture in Australia, either, and I have an obsession with furniture the way Americans love shoes. It's a shame I don't have an obsession with homes, too, since I have no place to put all the furniture. I have it stored all over the world.

Let me get the Basi shirt, and then I want to buy records. I would get them later, but I just remembered I have a friend coming in tonight for only one night. He and his father are trying to get down to Nicaragua. They're helping Ortega keep the Contras back. Good luck. What's so weird about their going is that these guys are publishing magnates in England. Entrepreneurs. They should be serious Thatcherites, but they just hate Thatcher. Real lefties.

If everyone is so vocal of their dislike of her, how come she's so strong?

The British love her because they love to be miserable; they love to complain. Thatcher's become irrepressible. She's finally showing signs of faltering, except she's winning by default, because no one wants to put Kinnock in, either. It's like your Dan Quayle. What an alternative.

Are Australians political?

It's compulsory to vote, if you want to call that political. Frankly, nobody particularly gives a fuck. That doesn't mean Australians are not aware people. I think they know more about what's going on in the rest of the world than the average American, but that's because they have to compensate for being in the middle of nowhere. They're more concerned about international politics, about the environment. Every time the Americans come into Sydney harbor with their nuclear ships and submarines, there's always 5,000 people telling them to fuck off.

But the hell with domestic politics?

Do you know anything about our system? It's built on a bickering sort of war. The front page is always about politicos throwing shit at each other, spending more time insulting each other than governing.

Mind you, they are really very good at it. It's a fine Australian tradition of political insult. Listening to parliament is hilarious - “Shut up, you bastard!” - and that's our prime minister, Bob Hawke. He's in the Guinness Book of World Records for having drunk a yard of beer in record time. He is actually a brilliant leader, a Rhodes scholar at Oxford, and he has done a bloody good job, considering the apathy he's up against. What he should be real pleased about its restoring pride in being Australian, particularly after all that nonsense when the governor general dismissed Prime Minister Whitlam in 1975.

How was that possible without the consent of the Australian parliament?

We're still a colony. I think a lot of us were cynical after that. They felt like puppets. Probably had something to do with the CIA. The good old CIA. I'm in their files, I found out. That they should waste their time on me. I'm listed as subversive, for my lyrics to “Guns in the Sky” and because I once threw condoms out to the audience in Northern Australia.

How is that subversive?

The more north you get in Australia, the more it is like the South in America. The man who ran Queensland, one of the biggest states in Australia, was this guy, Joh Peterson, who was in power for over 20 years. Peterson was this sort of South African leftover who arrived in Australia, and he made things illegal, like sex education, abortion, condoms to minors – you couldn't have the vending machines in clubs. [You can now.] Well, I slandered him, and so I got taken to court, where he was thrown out of office from the corruption uncovered during the proceedings.

Did that make you a hero down there?

Say what, mate? This is Australia, remember. Our heroes are bushrangers, outlaws, and sporting stars. If you're an athlete, you can get away with anything.

[Hutchence purchases the Basi shirts, and then we head to Tower Records at the corner. A street person approaches us.]

is this the official mugging committee?

Street person: “Ooh, ooh, here they come in their limo, straight from Saks Fifth Avenue. Board of directors, how you doing, moneys, you big-time decision makers. Uh-oh, who's you? You must be a rock man. Stand aside for the rock man.”

They always pick on me.

“I want to give you something, man. Some humility. But there's only enough for one.”

I don't care for some, but humility is something we can spread around.

“Hey man, this is for seriously. You will love this humility. No side effects, no speed. Say yes, and I can be back in an hour.”

[We go through the revolving door and right to the rock section; within three minutes, Max Q is playing on the system.]

That's good, somebody knows it's out.

[Hutchence buys albums by Ciccone Youth, Camper Van Beethoven, Soul II Soul, Grace Jones, Shakespear's Sister, Jesus and Mary Chain, and Suicidal Tendencies. As he is paying for them, he spots a postcard stand that features a picture of him.]

Holy shit. When did they take this thing? What a bizarre likeness. I hardly know this guy. This is not an approved photo. [He gets the attention of a young lady behind the counter.] Excuse me, please, this is not an approved photo. It's a pirate. Do you know where you get these from?

Salesgirl: “No idea.”

Can you find out?

“Why, do you want to buy a lot of them?”

See, I told you no one recognizes me.

[We walk outside and the street person comes up to him again.]

Street person: “I know who you are.”

Who am I?

“You are someone who's gonna give me a lot of money.”

How much you want?

“Just give me one of those bills, thank you. Now I'm officially your biggest fan. Just tell me what you want to buy.”

I must be dressed for success.

#inxs #michael hutchence #egg magazine #salesgirl's answers are perfect lol why would she know that hutch #maybe these pants come with a catheter #what kinda pants......#long post #tagging that in case read more doesn't work on mobile idk #collection

32 notes · View notes

arthurflecksgirl · 5 years ago

Text

Artie falls in love with you / Arthur Fleck short story

Disclaimer: Suicidal thoughts, sex, drunk Arthur, romantic, sweet

“How...how many kisses?“

Arthur was lying on the couch, burying his face in the pillow. The two of you went out on a date for the third time today and you were truly in love with him.

“Just tell me sweetheart, how many?“ He mumbled. The couple glasses of wine werent a good idea considering that he was on his medication and was never really drunk before. You felt kinda bad about his condition right now. But you really tried to get him out of his apartment and did choose a good restaurant to finally get him to eat something. He never ate propery and looked kinda starved. Also a side effect of his meds. You felt good, watching him eating half a plate today, so you ordered some wine,too.

You kneed in front of the couch to made sure he's comfortable, petting his soft, sweaty curls “What do you mean?“

He smirked at you “How many smoochies will I get from you tonight?“ His face lighted up looking at you. His childlike grin made your knees weak every time.

You kept on playin with his hair “Many,Arthur.“

“But how much?“

He tried to get up and kiss you on the cheek, making kissing noises and almost fell from the couch “Oooops“ he buried his face in your neck “I almost fell. Good thing I fell in your arms,huh?“ His breath felt hot against your skin. The smell of his hair felt like home. “Yeah Arthur, I'm afraid you're a bit drunk.“

Arthurs smile grew even more “I'm not drunk. I just love you so much and need to know how many?“ A sloppy kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Countless,Artie.“

He sunk back into his pillow “Wow, thats a lot!“

You took the blankets and covered him with it “Just try to get some sleep,okay? You will get all the kisses when you're sober again“.

He crawled up under the sheets, his beautiful face lookin slightly weathered. “Hey (YN) wanna hear a Joke? “

“Sure“

“So this man comes into an libary“ he chuckles in his pillow already.

"...and asks for a book on how to commit suicide.

And the libarian said Fuck off, you won`t bring it back"

He can`t help but laugh about his own joke. His dark homor said more about himself than you wanted to admit but you were very drawn to his view of things. He always seemed to feel everything with an intensivity you have never seen on someone else before. Eighter if he was happy or sad. When you met him he told you he never felt happy in his whole life but you felt like it changed dramatically since you dated. Knowing that he was all alone by himself, expect from living with his mother his whole life still breaks your heart. Never have you met someone more caring. He loves to make late night conversations while cuddeling up under the blankets, about everything that was going on in his head. Sometimes he had troubles explaining what he was trying to say but you loved his way of observing things around him. He payed attention wo every datail. You admired him, which he couldnt understand. He loved to be seen and he loved that you listened to him carefully. But he still wasnt sure why you loved him so much. You guess he wasnt used to this kind of attantion.

"Thats a good one,Arthur!"

He was getting sleepy "Yeah... you know what (YN) there are many more jokes in my journal, you know? I want you to read it. "

"The jokes?"

"The whole thing"

His eyes got heavier now.

"There are not only jokes in it" his eyes tried to focus on you "I was writing about you,too.I want you to read it"

Your hand slit under the blanket to caress his chest "About me? Really?"

"Yeah" the scar on his upper lip liftet when he did that smirk and it always made you blush. He even managed to make you blush while lying drunk on the couch. You felt kinda bad by getting turned on seeing him in this condition.

"I dont know Arthur, I feel like this is kinda personal. I dont want to disturb your privacy by reading your journal.

"Just do it!"

"Artie, you`re drunk. What if you dont want me to read it anymore in the morning?"

He was leaning over to give you sloppy kisses again "Thats why I want you to read it now." He was pointing his finger at you "Hey, wanna hear another one?"

You gave him a soft kiss on his forehead "Get some sleep, Arthur. You need to rest now"

He falls back into the pillow and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

After you made sure he fell asleep you looked at his diary. He really said he wanted you to read it. And that he wrote about you.

You werent sure if you should take a look. This felt so personal. On the other hand... You were more than curious about what he might thought of you. You just started dating and had your first kiss some days ago. He was a really good kisser. You guessed he didnt really knew what to do at first but he was so emotionally involved. He seemed to soak up every second of the moment. Like he really wanted this. He was right there in the moment with you, which you loved.After the kiss he confessed that he never was with a woman before and you think he was a bit ashamed about it. But he still wanted you to know. You didnt mind. You thought it was cute actually. And you wanted nothing more than being his first. You would love him all night. Like he deserved to be loved.

Another stare at his diary. You put my hands on the cover. Arthur Fleck case number 064823. Sure he had some problems. But you wanted the both of you to figure them out together. You wanted to hold his hand when he was in the waiting room to attent his appointments. You still werent sure what the exact diagnose was. You didnt wanted to upset him by asking too much about it. But you knew that he took anti depressants and anti psychotics.

You opened the first page of his diary. Some jokes, really dark ones. Mostly about death.

You turned the pages. Observations about homeless people. More dark jokes. Sad thoughts about being left alone. You didnt really read all of it cuz it still felt like you were disturbing his privacy. So you tried to find the pages which are written about you and searched for your name to pop up and there is was.

Your name was written in big, red letters that looed like lipstick. With a big smiley. Your heart jumped out of my chest when you saw it. There was something so cute about it and you imagined him drawing this the night, after you met.

You took a deep breath and started to read as your hands were shaking.

"Today I met the sweetest girl. She was new in my neighborhood and seemed to be different from all those aweful bricks here in Gotham. She has a nice smile. An authentic one. Not like my own smile, which is never authentic for so many reasons. I dont even know what a real smile is. But when I saw her , I smiled and for the first time in my entire life it felt like a real smile.

So she had those big packages to carry and i was just standing there, staring at her and suddenly she asked me for help. I was never been asked for help before. People tend to ignore and avoid me a lot. So I was very pleased to help her with her packages. We got into an conversation and I told her a joke. And she was laughing. I love it when people laugh at my jokes. I mean, I wanna do stand up comedy so bad. I need people to think that I`m funny. And I know I am. ---smiley face---

Anyway, I felt like finally someone sees me. The next day she came up to me when I was about to get to th pharmacy and she asked me out on a date. I couldnt belive it at first. I have never been on a date before. I was kinda nerveaus. Why would a beautiful, young woman like she is go out with me?

Of course I said yes.

I was dreaming about this for so long. Maybe she could be my girlsfriend. This would be a dream come true. I already told her that I have some issues, because she asked me why I was going to the city and I didnt thought twice and told her I have to buy my anti psychotics. I know that this wasnt a good move but it seems like it didnt scare her away. Well, she doesnt know how bad it really is by now.

I really hope that this time she is real and I`m not having visions or daydreams again.

Sometimes its hard to tell.

Some days I even think the meds make it even worse. But at the same time I am afraid to go off my meds. I did it once and I did some bad shit. I even ended up in Arkham for a very long time. Which wasnt that bad really.

Sometimes I think I felt better when I was locked up.

Not being able to leave my room, being with my thoughts all day, drifting away in daydreams gives me comfort. Its like ignoring the cold, dark world outside. The world doesnt care about me anyway. So why should I? The sad thing is, I still do care. I thought about ending my own life so amny times. Almost every day. But I never really tried it. Its just a game I play with myself.

How long? How long until it is not a game anymore?

How long till I have the guts to do it?

Oh man, I`m drifting away again. I wanted to talk about the GIRL!!!

She`s gorgeous. Just gorgeous.

I wish I could kiss her. I`m 35 and I hadnt had my first kiss yet. Its TIME!

I tried it once with this girls from scool i was in love with but I got so nerveaus that I started to laugh at her face and she thought I was laughing at her. Yeah well... she ended up punching me in the face and I never tried it ever since.

But I dreamed about it a lot. How would it feel to have someones lips pressed against yours? Softly and intense. To taste someones tongue in your mouth, to just melt into each other.I would never stop. I feel like a kiss is a connection on a higher level and I really wanna experience it with someone.

I got some other fantasies,too.

They`re pretty dirty and I dont feel like I can talk about them right now.

So i`m gonna quit writing for today and hope that the girl isnt already sick of me.

You turned the page and took a look at Arthur. He was humming in his sleep. Looking peaceful. All the words in his diary overwhelmed you up to a point where you didnt know what to think anymore. You hoped he enjoyed his first kiss. You really hoped your kiss was worth the wait.

The next page was just black scribbles all over the pages. Little drawings of people and cats. A lot of cats.

The next page was written on again.

"Today I woke up and wanted to die. I don`t even know why. It was just a gut feeling. I was miserable andthe darkness was caving in on me. But then I thought about the girls I just met and that she really seemed to like me. So I decited not to kill myself. Not today."

You thought about putting the diary aside. This was a lil too much for you. You didnt knew he was in such a dark place mentally. You were kinda scared but couldnt stop reading eighter.

"So...I remembered her kiss, my first kiss and this memory was so strong. I am sure it wasnt just imagined. This time I am sure it was real. It has to be. I wanted to distract myself from suicidal thoughts and started to touch myself while thinking of her. Maybe I should write her a love letter. Or bring her flowers. Or both. I think I`ll do both. Anyway, I touched myself while thinking about sleeping with her and I finally felt something again. I tried so many times but my meds wouldnt let me cum. It barely happens. Thinking about her kiss, her hands in my hair, on my thights, between my legs.... and her sweet voice on my ear helped me a lot. I felt passion and love and I came so hard, you wouldnt even wanna know. I hope Penny was asleep and didnt noticed anything. This would be embarrassing as hell. I surely made some noises.

I imagined that I took her hand and made her dance all through the living room to Frank Sinatra songs and we got closer and kissed. She told me how much she loved me and how much she wanted me. I held her face in my hands and kissed her so hard, all my make up smeared up on her beautiful face. I am always wearing clown make up in my sexual fantasies. It makes me more confident.

She just grabbed me and took my clothes off, threw them all over the room, threw me on the bed and covered my body with kisses. I felt loved for the first time in my life and all I wanted was to be inside her. To wear her like a coat that keeps me warm. I imagined her being on top of me, whispering in my ear how much she wants me to fuck her. And yeah I know in reality she would have dominated me for sure. But in my imagination I just got on top of her and made love to her till she was out of breath. I could almost feel her breath in my neck, feel her sweet, soft hands all over me. It was just so real. I wish it was real.

Could it become real some day?

My body was reacting in a way I didnt even knew was possible before.

I want to expercience it again. With even more details.

I think i wil get back to bed and try it one more time.

And afterwards I will write her a letter. Or two.

I just wish she never leaves again."

Blank page

Another blank page.

You put the diary aside and got up on the couch.

You crawled up under his blanket and felt the warmth of his tiney, fragile body which you want to hold for the rest of your life.

#arthur fleck #joker #joker fanfiction #fanfiction #arthur fleck fanfic #arthurfleckfanfiction #short fiction #short story #joaquinphoenix #joaquin phoenix joker

87 notes · View notes

ocular-intercourse · 4 years ago

Text

okay @mangosandchili 14 OC questions instead of 16 cause ned picked the other two 🙏

actually.. let me split this character-wise so I won’t take 100 years

finn gets first draw always

🌲 What is the kindest thing your OC has ever done for someone? What is the kindest thing someone has ever done for them? On the flip side, what is the worst thing your OC has done to another person?

Hmm hm kindness seems like a weird concept to think about for Finn. Cause yeah, he is excessively, self-sacrificingly kind, but he can also turn that off pretty easily when the other end does not deserve it in his eyes. The kindest thing he has ever done, continues to do sometimes, absolutely misplaced, is caring for his father, not giving up on him. Back when they were still living together, when his dad was too drunk to function, he’d clean him up, clean up around him, sober him up, even after the beatings started, forgiving him over and over. The kindest thing someone did to him was probably his mom getting him out of that situation.

The worst thing he has done to somebody else.. what an absolute nightmare question for Finn hasdghj. Take your pick between not magically being able to keep Kitty alive, continuously cheating on Emily like the single greatest asshole in the world or leaving Shawn straight after he tried to kill himself… he’d probably be able to come up with some other things that seem to be true in his eyes but might not be quite as bad as he sees them.

🌳 What does your OC do when they see others upset or in pain? An upset friend? A stranger?

He helps. Stops what he is doing and runs to help the more he loves the person. He could be standing on the court of some major tournament and drop the bat to go and help one of his loved ones, you can call him in the middle of the night and be sure to count on his help. Nothing in his own personal life can be more important than helping a friend in distress, so he’ll almost always put himself second. And if he does not, for whatever reason, no matter how justified, he’ll feel guilty about it. The same goes for strangers, in a way, of course not quite as extreme. But if he’d see someone in need of help, he won’t walk past it. He’s the type of person, when you’re in public and something happens that makes everyone uncomfortable, makes them pointedly stare someplace else or walk off hurriedly, he’d be the one to step in with no regard to his personal safety. He’d be the guy trying to safe someone from getting hit with a car, or step in between fights, argue with the police, make sure a person gets home safe.. But he also thinks ahead about what he could do for people. I made a post a while back about him being the kind of person to bring homeless people warm drinks and shoes in winter. I’m not quite sure what drives him, I think it’s one part his personal experience, knowing how it feels when nobody helps, but also him feeling guilty, feeling like he is a burden and a bad person and he needs to counterweight somehow.

🌿 What is something true about your OC that they refuse to admit about themselves? Is there any reason to this besides embarrassment?

He will NOT. EVER. let people tell him he is/would be a good father. He is though, he’s been practically raising his little half-brother since he was three (he’s seven now) since his mother is.. uh.. not exactly full-time mom material. And the kid is so good, he’s great actually, smart as hell, already running circles around him, skipped some classes (actually I’m thinking about it more and more but what used to be a he when i came up with him might actually be a trans girl but we’ll see so I’m sticking with describing Bryant as him atm, that’d be something that develops in the story in the future). But if somebody tells him what a good job he did/does with Bryant Finn would shut that down immediately. And then go and cry about it. He gets really panicky about the thought of being a father, since fathers in his family have traditionally not been especially great at it. There are arguments between him and Shawn, who says that Finn worrying so much about being a good father would already make him a hell of a better father than he ever had.

🍃 Describe a regular day for your OC. What is their schedule (if they have one).

He’s developed a pretty good routine since he went pro, which helps a lot with his moods and all. He will get up early, 7-ish, go for a run, come home, make breakfast, a lot, cause he has to eat constantly to keep mass. Then it’s time for some “paperwork”, organizing stuff, calls with sponsors and partners and whoever wants something of him, photoshoots, interviews, collabs. Cooking, eating. Meeting with his trainer, training or training solo. Depending on the day picking up Bryant from school and hanging out with him/meeting his sister/mother/other friends. Cooking, eating. On every other day streaming, mostly some games, sometimes cooking, sometimes just hanging out with fans. Mania/depression will of course throw some wrenches in there but he’s been pretty good at keeping things together lately. If he’d be back with Shawn he’d also trim all the job stuff down a bunch, a lot of his excessive training atm is very much just to keep himself occupied.

🍁 What is your OC’s most traumatic experience? (If they don’t have just one traumatic experience either pick one or describe them all!)

Ha, laughing at the describe them all.. let’s not. The biggest is definitely losing Kitty. It has completely, both positively and negatively, marked his life. It made him develop his strict anti-drug stance and the focus on sticking things through to avoid hurting his family. Sometimes he thinks back to it, if Kitty would not have died, who he would have become. He’s mostly sure he’d be the one who had killed himself instead, without the trauma of losing her he would not have thought about what that would do to others as much. He’d most definitely be an addict in one way or another. He would not like himself very much. He also ABSOLUTELY hates that thought cause he can’t bare seeing anything positive in her death, he refuses to think about it that way. He’d bring her back in a heartbeat, regardless of what that would do to him. So instead he is much more focused on the fear of losing his loved ones, of somehow being responsible for it either directly or indirectly by not seeing it and not helping.

🍄 How would your OC react to the death of a friend/family member/loved one? Is there anyone they can confide in?

Oh boy how fitting. It was already the absolute worst thing to happen to him, knocked him out for quite a while, people had to babysit him constantly, he dropped out of school, it took him a lot of time and energy to resemble a human being again. If it would happen again I think he would just stop functioning. He wants to follow but promised himself not to, so he can’t, but that does not make him feel better. I think he would have to be hospitalized in some way or another, stay in a clinic for a while. Other than that Shawn and Raphael would be the ones he would confide in the most. His sister too, in a way, but with her he would be much more worried about putting all this negative shit on her.

🌾 What would your OC be like if they were evil. Or if they’re already evil what would they be like as the good guy?

Oh I’m excited about this question for some of the others lol. It’s really hard to picture Finn as an evil person. He sure likes to believe he’s an unlovable asshole but he’s really not, that’s at the core of his character. Evil Finn would have married Emily and been an asshole about it, cheating and not being safe about it. He’d be a drug dealer probably, that’s the worst thing regular Finn could imagine himself to be. He’d just be bitter and aggressive and living it out, enjoying dragging others into the muck with him.

💐 How would your OC react to somebody telling them that they love them? (+ bonus give another characters/OC name!)

Definitely depends on whether the intention is platonic or romantic. Emily and Raphael showing romantic interest would just make him sad? Melancholic? Guilty. Cause he wants to make them happy, but he can’t give them what they want, even if he loves them, he does not love them that way. Shawn telling him he loves him would just.. break a dam, he’d definitely cry and be absolutely overwhelmed and relieved. Also a little scared. Anybody else saying it would just prompt him to, uh, probably stop seeing them. Flight instinct. He is so not over what happened between him and Shawn he will run for the hills at any sign of a potential relationship.

🌷 What does your OC hate about themself? What lies about themself do they believe? On the flip side, What does your OC love about themself?

I love these questions, they were very much made for the way I write characters lol. Especially Finn, cause a lot of him is just being tortured by his brain and him knowing that, but still believing in it. He focuses on the bad things he has done, and there’s been a bunch, a lot of it definitely fueled by being bipolar, but he can’t accept that as a reason, he does not want to make excuses for his actions. So he just sees how he has hurt people in the past and deduces that he has to be an asshole. It is really hard to convince him otherwise. Even if he logically can understand that it is unlikely that people think this way about him, it’s still an underlying fear beneath everything and always some part of his motivation. So he’s weak, and a coward and selfish and a burden, unlovable. He definitely hates being impulsive and aggressive sometimes, there’s been a hundred times when he was in a fight, an unnecessary fight he couldn’t keep himself from starting, and saying things/doing things he did not mean to. He hates this fact, that he can lose control like that, it scares him.

On the flipside, he is somewhat narcissistic. If he does not hate himself for a second he considers himself to be pretty damn great. He prides himself on the way he takes care of other people. On how far he’s come, both mentally and professionally. He knows he’s a good musician, a good cook. He’s the kind of person that would refuse to work with others in a group project cause he knows he’s insufferable and would not be happy with other people’s work affecting his evaluation. He can’t watch other people do things he would do a different way without wanting to step in and correct them. But all of that ego is just a balloon that pops pretty quickly and he’s back to believing he’s the worst at everything.

🥀 What is something your OC blames themselves for and is it really their fault? Does it keep them up at night and is there any lingering trauma?

I like how these questions are all just building up on one another. He blames himself for not seeing how miserable Kitty had been, for having her persuade him to travel without her when he kinda knew he should probably worry about her, for not somehow having been able to, I don’t know, just know what was going to happen and act differently, or just generally for not being enough of a good force in her life for her to cling on to. That’s all just doubling down when Shawn tries to kill himself and he once again feels like it was his personal failure. Not being good enough or attentive enough, probably even being part of the reason why. There’s a whole lot of trauma there. Of course none of it is true. Kitty knew exactly how attentive Finn had been to her, it’s the reason she made sure he was away when she went through with it. The same goes for Shawn, where the reason was exactly the opposite of killing themselves because Finn was not enough, but rather because Finn was too much, too good, and they would just be bad for him if they would stay alive. Finn can’t see that angle, at all, if he did he would not accept it. It keeps him up in his worst nights. If/when he gets back together with Shawn it would be a major fear for him, Shawn having a relapse, Shawn dying of an overdose, intentional or not, Shawn getting to such a low point again without him realizing or being able to do anything about it. I imagine he would sometimes get a bit hysteric about stuff, if he does not know what Shawn is currently doing or something seems off, he is really good at working himself up into a frenzy about small stuff that feeds into his worst fears.

🌺 In what situation would your OC be pushed to commit an act of violence? Would they go as far to kill someone if they had to? How would this affect them and their relationships with others?

Well he’s certainly been in a bunch of fights, cause he’s provocative, he’s great at making people lose it, sometimes intentional sometimes not. He’s also not good at not reacting to provocation himself. Racism certainly feeds into that a lot. He’s had some manic phases where he was very much looking for fights. I think he would be able to kill someone, but only in the moment and only if it’s to protect himself or somebody else. He would not deal with it all too well, it would haunt him. He would think about that person having a life, a family, loved ones of their own. He would think about putting an end to somebody’s consciousness, that last fading moment, it’s all over, because of him, and he can’t take that back. I feel like the people around him would never be able to punish him for it as much as he would do himself. If he would have killed for Shawn’s sake, he, Shawn, would probably struggle a bit with accepting what has happened, because of him, what Finn had to do, because of him. He would be angry for a while, directed at Finn and himself. Finn would not be able to handle that very well, he can’t bare the thought of being hated be Shawn, he is so scared of being seen as bad, even though part of him has himself convinced that people see him this way anyways. He’s just scared of confirming what he already suspects.

🌸 What would your OC do if they were given god-like powers or the ability to change anything about the world for a whole day?

I think Finn would have a lot of problems with that timeframe. Cause there is not a lot of things god-like powers are worth of that would make sense for such a short amount of time. He would think about ending hunger and homelessness, discrimination, racism, the entire system, he would bring Kitty back, he would want to make everything okay.. but only for a day?? And then go back to square one? We would rather not change anything than have something great for a second only for it to be taken away again. So it would all be about creating a nice experience with the people he loves, allowing them all to do something they have wanted to do their whole lives.

🌼 Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

Oh I think I mentioned them all already. Family members and close friends dying, or other terrible things happening to them. Alternatively finding out that everybody hates him and he’s hurt all the people he loves without realizing it, that they all think he and his moods are a burden and they’d all be happier without him.

🌻 What advice would your OC give to their younger self? What advice does your OC need now?

Don’t try to stick to how you think things are supposed to be as much versus doing what you actually want to do. Don’t bend and break yourself to fit some sort of premade mold that society created for you. He has done a lot of hurtful things to himself and others only cause he tried to play by the rules. He dated Emily for much longer, trying to present himself as straight, than he should have, experimenting on the side and hurting her that way. He excused his father’s behavior way too much, being the filial son he’s supposed to be, cause it’s family and family sticks together and forgives. He’s hated himself so much for his illness, trying to force it away instead of accepting that it’s there and acting accordingly to get a better grip on it. He still hasn’t outed himself to his father or the world, since he became somewhat famous, because he’s really insecure about it changing the way people will look at him. That’s probably what he could use good advice on these days. He knows, somewhere, that he should out himself, that it is a fantastic thing to do, in his position, to work towards change. He’s just not quite ready to pay the price and he feels awfully guilty about it. Someone should tell him about all the people he could be representing, but also about how much living his life without hiding anything will free him.

#mangosandchili #ocs #finn #he sounds way more unhappy than he actually is these days!!!#tho it's always kinda one harsh blow away from falling apart sooo #long post

4 notes · View notes

hollenka99 · 5 years ago

Text

The One Where Jackie Takes Each Day As It Comes

Summary: Chapter 1. Jackie may not have a home but he’s meeting some friendly faces.

@bupine @badlypostedeverything

Spotting all the daily newspapers declare it was February 13th 2019 that first morning had been rough. Part of Jackie had wanted to believe it was a really elaborate prank. But the lads wouldn't be able to do something like that. Especially given the state they'd gotten themselves in at Stuart's party. Maybe it hadn't been a bad thing that Jackie decided to go easy on the alcohol. At least he didn't enter the next century completely hammered. Seeing couples out on Valentine's Day causes him to reflect. He spent that day missing Chris, which he had been in two minds about. And Nate. God knows how he'd be able to return home to 1986, if he could at all. Perhaps getting thrown three decades into the future was the thing he needed to sort that mess out internally. The risk of the band going their separate ways because two members broke up sounded more attractive now. Sure beat them disbanding because the drummer disappeared indefinitely or was presumed dead. Yeah, he would split from Chris to be with Nate if he had the chance now. It was the old question niggling in his mind: didn't he deserve to be with the one who made him happier than the other? Not like all that relationship drama mattered much when he had no worldly possessions except for his clothes now. Fuck the shit with those two anyway. He'd rather have Caoimhe in his arms any day. Whatever happens to her with him gone, Jackie hopes she is kept safe and loved. Okay, so maybe he was going to get teary about some things. There was no point exhausting himself with tears regarding all this. How would giving himself a massive headache help matters? It got worse the more he accepted his drastic life change. Dwelling on it all hurt. Bridget, Annette and Spencer must all be adults by now. His friends were in their 50s, like he should be himself. They all must be unrecognisable to him now. Like he said, dwelling on the currently inaccessible past was redundant. Instead, he did his best to find somewhere dry to sleep at night. Days were spent on the lookout for food. At least there was a water fountain near the bus station. It's fine. It's not like this is his first time taking each day as it came. He'll manage, one way or another. It's while Jackie is preoccupied with drinking someone's discarded hot chocolate that a man approaches him. The stranger's curls remind him of how his own hair used to be, prior to its current style. Freckles litter his face too. The smile seems genuine but he's been in this situation before. Jackie decides to cautiously give this stranger the benefit of the doubt. "You know how to play guitar?" American? Canadian? He doesn't know enough about those accents to distinguish them. "...Yes." "Here." The guy holds out his guitar case. "I don't need the change anymore. Got a decent job now and all that." "Thank you but I can't." "You look like you could do with a source of income. Stealing isn't exactly a reliable method of feeding yourself. Which reminds me..." An oat bar is retrieved. Through part of the plastic wrapping, it is visibly crumbling. "I'll admit, not in the best condition. Sorry about that. Still, please take it." Well, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and all that. "Thanks." "No problem. I'm Joel, by the way." He winks, heading a few feet away. "Jackie." The ground crumbles in front of where Joel stood. Straight up vanishes as if it hadn't existed in the first place. It wasn't like Jackie had never met someone with powers before but... it was certainly impressive to see this sort of stuff first hand. The outstretched leg, meant to be taking a step into oblivion, is retracted. There is a pause. Joel turns to face him once more. Still there is continued hesitation. "Listen, I shouldn't be saying this but... things are going to change soon. Just be careful. Anti's about and he likes targeting people who can uh, easily disappear." "Anti?" "There's a killer on the loose and I'd hate to see your face on the news for all the wrong reasons." And like that, Joel hops backwards into the hole. Jackie takes his advice and plays during the day. Playing acoustic guitar simply makes him miss rehearsals with the lads. Guitar wasn't even his instrument. That had been drums. Even so, their type of guitar had been electric. Not much comes from busking. He's rusty, he knows. He continues playing songs he recalls off by heart in the hope of earning a pound here and there. He supposes the public secretly question why he sang nothing but hits from 30 years ago. Days blur. The last time he'd bothered to check the date it had been the 21st. He didn't keep track of how many days ago that was. The wind has been blustery all day. It was for this very reason that Jackie had spent the majority of it as sheltered as he could. He notices a man passing by his spot who seems unaffected by the bad weather. He walks by as if they hadn't been suffering strong winds recently. That's not the only odd thing about the stranger. His choice of fashion is very interesting. His entire outfit is purple apart from the covered half of his face and his gloves. The white mask resembling a cat's face reached the top of his cheeks. To complete the look, the mask extends into triangular ears. Jackie feels the guy hitting his head must hurt even more with those attached. Jackie's presence must have been caught in his peripheral vision. Cat Guy halts and turns to him. Surprise transforms into a warm smile on his face. "Hey, I don't think I've seen you around here before. I'm guessing you haven't been living like this for long?" "About a week or two. Haven't been counting." "Tell me you at least have something to cover yourself with at night." "I try to find somewhere relatively warm. Ish." "Dude, it's February." "Yeah, tell me about it." Cat Guy removes his backpack. From it, he retrieves a water bottle and a blanket. "Good thing I tend to carry some stuff around. Ham or cheese?" "What?" "Sandwich." The stranger presents him with the gifts. Once Jackie takes the blanket and water, the superhero holds out an object encased in tin foil. "I tend to make ham and cheese ones. You're not vegan or a lactose intolerant vegetarian, are you?" "No. I'll uh... take the ham, thanks." "Oh, by the way, what's your name?" He could say John. Or Bartholomew. He doesn't have to say Jackie. Shit, he could say his name was Sean if he wanted, seeing as that was another form of his name. He didn't have to even provide a name that was half true. But eh, fuck it. It's not like this guy will find a Jackie Mann born in Ireland during the late 90s. "Jackie. And what should I call you, Mr Super Cat?" "Super Cat, wow." He laughs. "That's a new one. Well, I'm known as the Magnificent Cat around here. A bunch of people shorten it to Cat." Cat? Yeah, that sounds cool. The superhero carries on with his day a minute or two afterwards. He sees him tossing a sandwich and making brief conversation with the black woman situated on the corner of the street. Mondays and Thursdays rapidly become Jackie's favourite days of the week. Cat always swung by at some point in the day, making sure those living outside had certain necessities like food or some money. He had a habit of apologizing for not being able to give more than £5, as if that was a tiny amount to provide to each homeless person he catered to around the city. They typically talk but it never lasted long before Cat had to carry on with his rounds. Once, the superhero had to excuse himself due to a burglary being reported. Jackie also liked seeing this other guy who kept popping up over the days. They'd first met when Jackie had been performing Billie Jean. Marvin was a really nice, frequently sparing 2 or 3 pounds whenever he passed by Jackie. There were also their conversations. The topic didn't matter. They also varied in length but by far fulfilled his social quota better than Cat's busy schedule could. It was pleasant to have someone to talk to. Either way, he had two people in his corner which was two more than he'd expected. The first week of April is laden with rain. Waking up to a damp blanket sucked but it was hardly like he had anything else to cover himself with. At least it was gradually warming up now. The last thing Jackie wanted was hypothermia, let alone getting sick in general. He must be getting his days mixed up because he thought Cat's last visit was on a Thursday. Yet here he was, walking around as he tended to do. Jackie didn't hear him chatting with anyone else like he'd expected him to. It didn't matter. It was getting fairly late anyway. It wasn't as if Cat was prohibited from strolling around in his costume. Plus, he was under no obligation to be as social as he typically was. Saying hi to him as he passed wouldn't hurt though. "Cat! It's good to have a dry spell in the middle of all this bad weather, huh?" Jackie chuckles. "How are things going?" The superhero halts abruptly at this. It's almost like he didn't expect Jackie to be there. That was a little odd because this was his usual spot. However, he decided to brush it off as Cat having a long day. His theory is further solidified when he doesn't seem as in the mood to talk today. "Hey. Things are good." Cat smiles thoughtfully. "Actually, I've been meaning to show you this new community centre that opened recently. They're letting people sleep there if they want. It's technically within walking distance from here but it's much easier to get there by car. Want me to take you there?" He obliges Cat's generosity. They chat about how foot traffic had significantly dropped in the past few days due to the downpour. Cat points out his black car. He motions to Jackie that he'd be sitting at the back because unfortunately, there was a bunch of clutter in the front. The door is red when he grabs the handle. A couple blinks confirm it is still red. The darkness of the evening must have been confusing his ability to see colours properly. It also may be linked to this headache that's appeared out of nowhere. He really hopes this isn't a sign the rain has negatively affected his health. He'd rather focus on how lovely the interior of Cat's car was. The doors lock internally. He moves his head to direct a remark about it to Cat. Except it's not the superhero at all. There was no costume, only a dark hoodie. The first feature that causes him to stare when Cat faces him were those eyes. Was there even anything other than black in them? The hair too. He's never seen Cat without his mask on but he didn't think it would be dark green. Had Cat looked so pale all those other times? He's not certain. He definitely knows that grin belongs in Hell. "Funny how easily people will follow you if they think you're a friend. Isn't it?"

#jumbled au #my writing #writersofjack #jackie mann #the magnificent cat #antisepticeye #tw kidnapping #but it's more... luring away in this chapter

6 notes · View notes

miamistax · 4 years ago

Text

Read this. Someone you know has lived these same experiences. This must end now.

David Gamble, Jr.

I grew up in Reno, Nevada.

In third grade a boy confidently tells me and my brother that his mom said black people cannot swim because our muscles are different than those of white people.

In middle school, standing among a group of white classmates talking video games, I am the only black child. One classmate expresses surprise that my family has enough money to afford a PlayStation.

In high school, I am the only black kid among a group of friends. When sharing drinks in my presence they frequently tell each other not to “niggerlip” the bottles. Even though I object, they continue to use the phrase.

In high school, my brother is at a teen house party that gets broken up by police, a common occurrence. The kids at the party scatter, also a common occurrence. My brother, the only black child in attendance, is the only one on whom a police officer draws a firearm to get him to stop running away. He is 14.

In high school, a group of my white friends frequently sneak on to the outdoor basketball courts at an athletic club to play. They can usually play for hours, including with club members. On the two occasions I attend, club members complain and we are ejected from the club within minutes.

In high school, I am excited about black history month and am talking to a friend about black inventors. My friend snorts and says, “Black people have never invented anything.”

In high school, as graduation approaches, many of my white friends tell me that I am lucky. They tell me that due to my skin color, I will get into any college I want.

I remain in Reno for college.

During college an employer keeps food for employees in the break room refrigerator. One morning I decided to have microwaveable chicken wings for breakfast. The employer tells me I might not want to eat that for breakfast with my skin color. The employer immediately apologizes.

In college I am standing in a group of white friends on campus. A white acquaintance of one of my friends approaches to chat. The acquaintance tells a story about something that frustrated him and then reels off a series of expletives ending with the word, “nigger.” None of my friends corrects him.

In college I visit an antique shop in Auburn, California with my girlfriend, who is white, and her parents. The shopkeeper follows me around the store whistling loudly as I browse, until we leave.

I move to San Diego, California for law school.

In law school, during a discussion in my criminal law class, a white classmate suggests that police officers should take a suspect’s race into account when determining whether there is reasonable suspicion to believe that an individual is committing a crime.

The weekend of my law school graduation my family comes to San Diego. I go to the mall with my brother and sister and visit the Burberry store. Two different employees follow us around the store – never speaking to us – until we leave.

After law school, I return to Reno.

A co-worker jokingly calls me “King David” upon seeing me each day. I joke that I’m not treated like a king. The co-worker then begins to call me “Slave David” each time we encounter one another. When I ask the co-worker to stop because it is hurtful, I am told by my co-worker that this is a problem that I have in my head.

I attend a pub crawl with friends. We end up at a party in a hotel suite in downtown Reno. I am greeted by a white man at the door who loudly expresses surprise that I am an “educated negro” upon hearing me speak.

I walk a friend who is a white woman from a restaurant to her car because it is night time. As we stand by the car chatting, a police officer pulls up and shines a light on us, asking if everything is okay. Once my friend confirms, the officer drives away. I tell her that he was worried about her, she teasingly says, “Oh yeah, because you’re so scary.” Later, I tell another white friend I felt racially profiled by the officer. My friend shrugs and says, “I don’t know man, that’s a stretch.”

A white friend tells me that white voters have become upset at black people because of black people’s liberal use of food welfare benefits. When I point out that more whites than blacks receive welfare benefits in the U.S., my friend expresses confusion at how that could be the case.

I leave a downtown restaurant with my wife. As we walk along the river a homeless man appears to be having a schizophrenic episode, engaging auditory hallucinations. Upon seeing me, he becomes lucid and begins to shout the word “nigger” over and over.

I discover that one of my clients does not want me to represent him as his Public Defender because he does not want a black attorney. I am given the option to withdraw as counsel. I do not.

Last year, I am at a barbecue chatting with a white acquaintance who asks if I have ever experienced racism. When I say it is a nearly daily occurrence, the acquaintance retorts, without missing a beat, “Bullshit.”

Two months ago. I am driving to lunch with the black teen I mentor. At a red light a white woman crosses the street. As I begin to drive, she turns around and screams at us, “F**k you f****ing nigger!”

Before any of these instances, my family of origin moved to Reno, Nevada from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1984.

My mother recently told me that when I was a very young child my parents hired a company to remove a tree from our front lawn. Two white men showed up and removed the tree. One of them carved a swastika into the stump. My father had to confront him and ask him to remove it.

Before that, my now 93 -year-old grandfather served in the Army National Guard and was stationed in the U.S. south. Despite being active duty, he was not allowed to eat in restaurants due to “whites only” signage. He had to wait for fellow Guardsmen to bring him food outside.

Not long before that, my family were slaves, owned by Americans of English and Irish descent, which is why – despite being primarily of African descent – I have an English last name.

This is my experience of being black in America. To be black in America is to be told over and over that you are not good enough, that you do not belong, that you are genetically unfit, that your physical presence is undesirable, and that everything about you – right down to your lips – is wrong. It is absolutely true that everyone experiences hardships in life, but the psychological weight of being told both explicitly and implicitly, on a daily basis, that your very existence is objectionable can at times feel unbearable.

And despite this experience, I still love my country, my state, and my city. Despite my experience, I would not choose to be anything other than a black American. The history of black people in this country is one of struggle and triumph. Our people were brought to this country as slaves and against all odds, in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, have made our mark. Through slavery, poll taxes, literacy tests, redlining, and black codes we have persevered. Through the unspeakable horrors of mass lynchings; the Tuskegee syphilis experiments; and the massacres at Tulsa and Rosewood, we have persevered.

Bass Reeves, Dovey Johnson Roundtree, Sarah Boone, Oscar Micheaux, Shirley Chisholm, Dorie Miller, Susie King Taylor, Georgia Gilmore, Octavius Catto, Jack Johnson, Garrett Morgan, James W.C. Pennington. These are just a handful of extraordinary and oft forgotten black Americans who helped to mold and preserve the American Dream. These individuals and their accomplishments should not be regarded as “black history,” but rather as American history.

I am an American of privilege, which makes me an African American of great privilege. I am an attorney. I live in a safe neighborhood. My children do not worry about their next meal. I can afford child care. My family can afford personal vehicles. If my children become sick, I can take them to the doctor. If I am this privileged, and these have been my experiences, primarily in my own hometown, often with friends and acquaintances who are fond of me, and of whom I remain fond even now; just imagine what daily life must be like for a black person in this country who does not enjoy my level of privilege.

The protests in the streets of America are certainly about the killing of George Floyd, but not just about George Floyd. They are about countless black men, women, and children for whom the punishment did not fit the crime – if indeed there was a crime at all. We live in a country where, in order to recall what life under Jim Crow felt like, many white Americans must pick up a history book. Meanwhile, many black Americans need only pick up a telephone, and call their parents.

When we as people of color share our experiences, we are not doing so to score political points, “play the race card,” get sympathy, assign blame, or to make you feel bad about yourself. We are asking you for help. We are asking you to join us in the ongoing fight against racism in our country, because we cannot do it alone. It will take Americans of every stripe to eradicate racism from American society.

I am now asking for your help. Please seek truth and knowledge. When sharing information, please check your sources and make sure that they are reliable. Try to place what is happening today into a historical context. Read about systemic racism and anti-racism. When your friends of color tell you that racism is real and affecting their lives, believe them and then, if you can, do something about it.

My children are likely to attend the same middle school and high school that I did. It is my great hope for them that those around them have the knowledge, compassion, and guidance to know better than to daily deluge them with words that make them doubt their intelligence, their beauty, and their worth as human beings based only on the color of their skin; and instead judge them by the content of their character.

It is for all of the above reasons, and so many more that we proudly say #blacklivesmatter

2 notes · View notes

egg-and-koji · 4 years ago

Text

“Shadows of a Legacy” A LoK Re-Write - Ch 1

KORRA

“I’m the Avatar, you gotta deal with it!”

Those were Korra's first words to the White Lotus when they came to investigate the claims of the new Avatar being reborn at the Southern Water Tribe. Sure it might have been a bit cocky but at age six she could already bend earth, water, and fire; although she wasn’t able to bend more than a short puff of flames and levitate a few stones, she did have a good grasp on waterbending thanks to father, Tonraq.

The previous Avatar, Aang, tasked the Order of the White Lotus with safeguarding the next Avatar until they’d master all four elements. Little did Korra know she’d be locked away with almost no freedom at a compound the order built miles from her home village. Not even her mother, Senna could get the White Lotus assigned to her daughter's care to loosen their grip on said freedom. Korra was grateful, however, to at least have her parents there; she may have still been in the South, but their presence made it feel more like home.

And since her father was her original waterbending teacher and she accepted his advice openly, it was decided there was no point in anyone replacing him. Korra was tasked with learning the more spiritual and medicinal aspects of waterbending from Master Katara. However, those lessons weren’t very long. In part to Korra lacking any sort of spiritual connection and to Katara’s...withdrawal from the world.

During her years in training, Korra learned from the best earthbending and firebending masters. Many of them claimed she lacked restraint and discipline. They cited much like Master Katara that she would not become a fully realized Avatar until she mastered the spiritual aspect of the title as well. And yet, she continued to beat every task they expected of her, mastering three of the four elements at seventeen.

Korra’s hopes of being free of her prison were shattered when her airbending teacher, Master Tenzin, had to, unfortunately, postpone her training.

Which is why she took matters into her own hands and left the compound for Republic City. She had always heard stories from the fishermen coming back to the tribe after selling their hauls at the city’s port. They said the city had a glow you can see from miles and miles away.

And it was breathtaking! The light, the sounds. She’d never seen buildings so tall. They pierced the sky and she swears some of them never stopped growing. The streets were crowded with all kinds of Satomobiles and vendors and all types of people. She figured most who came to the city would abandon their roots, but she couldn’t believe the number of people wearing clothes inspired by the styles of their nations. Everything about the city was amazing and she found herself… a bit disheartened; Master Tenzin and The White Lotus had made it seem like the city was dangerous, but Korra hadn’t run into anything questionable yet.

She did get scolded out by a food vendor when she had no money to pay for a snack-in but her defense, Korra always had someone else take care of that. Then, she met her first homeless guy in the park, and surprisingly, he wasn’t the only one. He explained that it wasn’t unusual for people to live out on the streets. And there she thought everyone in the city was “living it up”. Then was when she met her first Equalist; an anti bender protesting in the park. How easily he got her riled up!

Korra paid him little mind and thought, ‘Whatever people like him are entitled to their stupidity. If you aren’t born a bender than that’s too bad.’

She continued her tour of the city. Momentarily struck by the distinct neighborhoods representing the three major nations. Little Ba Sing Se was not at all that “little” and the Arctic Heights were almost like home, except those buildings were made of white stone to look like ice instead. She wondered if it snowed in the city.

When she got to the Fire Nation neighborhood, she honestly thought it was going to be “fierier”; at least with a better fitting name than Wuzho Village. But one could understand why the city decided against it.

Even though Avatar Aang and his friends stopped Fire Lord Ozai and ended The Hundred Year War, the rest of the world needed time to recover and rebuild. After more than 50 years, some people were still mistrustful of Fire Nation citizens, more so firebenders.

Still, some progress between the populations was being made as Korra met two brothers from a multicultural family; Bolin and Mako; an earthbender and a firebender. Bolin, she decided she could very easily get along with. His brother was in her thoughts, ‘a giant whale-walrus dick’.

But that was before she stopped a group of thugs from harassing an older man’s business. ‘Listen, you can’t be the Avatar if you’re not ready to give an Avatar beat down’. After that, Bolin invited her to see one of their pro-bending games.

And the criminals? Yes, she took care of them, but...might have been a bit too aggressive in the process.

Which ended up with her destroying some prosperity…

And then getting arrested for it…

And almost being sent back to the South Pole…

But thankfully, Councilman Tenzin changed his mind. Korra thanked him profusely and expressed her excitement to begin her airbending training...until he said she had to make her first public appearance as the Avatar.

And as best as she could remember, The White Lotus did not teach her “public speaking for Avatars.”

170AG - The Next Day

Korra barely ate dinner; not feeling quite herself. A shame too as Tenzin’s wife made wonderful smelling food; vegetable seaweed wraps, sweet red bean buns, tofu curry. Hmm, I might have to sneak out for fish once in a while. But her stomach probably couldn't have handled any food then. Not unless she wanted it coming back up. She didn’t talk much either, as much as Tenzin’s youngest daughter, Ikki, pestered Korra with a million questions?

“Can you really eat a whole whale? How does your house not melt if you have a fire in them? Do you have any siblings? Do you turn into a block of ice if you take a bath?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Korra shrugged. A few half-eaten pieces of food lingered on her plate that she pushes around with chopsticks then excused herself from the table early. Her heavy fur boots shuffled along with her steps as she walked out the main building to the female dormitory. The air acolytes bowed to as she passed before continuing on their way.

Korra chews on her dry bottom lip. Give me someone to fight any day, have me talk in front of a crowd, and well…

She's careful with the sliding door to her room, and changes out of her clothes then flops onto the bed. A knock softly rattles the door to her guest room, pulling her out of worrying thoughts.

“Korra?” Tenzin’s voice comes through the paper panels, “I came to see if you’re alright, you left dinner rather early.”

She jumps up and goes to the door. “Uh, yeah all good,” she says, sliding and leaning on the frame. “Just, uh, wanted to get extra sleep, ya know ... for the meetings and interviews tomorrow.”

She does her best to appear calm and collected. Her new mentor eyes her suspiciously; aging bluish-grey eyes searching for signs of doubt. “There’s no shame in being anxious to speak to the media. Although, I strongly recommend you stick to the notes we’ve written for you.”

“Oh come on, I’m pretty sure they’ll want to hear what I as the Avatar have to say instead of what somebody else thinks I should say.” She says with a flourish of her wrist.

“Given your eventful introduction to the city,” his greying bushy eyebrow arched as he spoke, “It’s in your best interest to gain the peoples’ trust.”

“Pft, who doesn’t trust the Avatar ?”

Tenzin sighs, “As I’m sure you’re now aware that the situation between benders and non-benders has escalated in the past few years. The rise of the Equalists only serves to fan the flames.”

Eh, he does have a point. Remembering the protestor and his crowd at the park makes her veins boil. She grumbles, “Yeah, I know.”

Tenzin’s concern is clear on his face. He places a hand on her shoulder and gives a reassuring pat. She chews on her lip again. Sometimes I forget this whole anti-bender thing has him all worked up. Sure, I'm the reincarnation of Avatar Aang, but...Tenzin's his son; that pressure can’t be easy to deal with.’

She clicks her tongue and gives him a crooked grin, “I’ll do my best.”

With Korra’s confidence, Tenzin relaxes, looking a few years younger. He bows his head and turns to leave.

She throws herself back on the bed. Okay Republic City, let’s see what you got!

The next morning, a crowd of news reporters gathers on the steps of City Hall waiting for Korra to come out. Her polar bear-dog, Naga sticks her head through the open window in Tenzin’s office. The building has a strict “no animals allowed” rule. That’s seal crap. Her eyes follow Korra as she paces. Naga’s ears twitch occasionally and when Korra turns to face her, her tongue flops out the side of her jaws making Korra chuckle. She scratches behind her best friend’s ears, “Oh, to be a polar bear-dog and not have a care in the world.”

Tenzin and the Republic City Police Chief, Lin Beifong are talking to a few White Lotus sentries out in the hallway. Apparently, they are working with the police to increase security in case any anti-bender protestors show up to disrupt the event. Korra grumbles and leans closer to Naga, “I say let them, I’d be more than happy to prove them wrong on any of their arguments!”

The door opens and Tenzin comes in. “They’re ready for us Korra.”

Korra gently nudges Naga to pull her head back from the window, “I’ll see you outside girl.”

Lights flash as Korra and her escorts walk out of the building.

“Avatar! Avatar over here!” Several reports shout immediately.

Korra holds her arm over her eyes to block out more flashing lights. Being disoriented isn’t how I planned to make my big debut. Through her hazy vision, she can make out a podium with several microphones strapped around the edge set up at the top of the building’s main steps.

Tenzin walks up and raises his hands, calming the buzz from the anxious crowd. “Good morning to you all. As I’m sure you’ve heard, the new Avatar has recently arrived in Republic City. We’ve gathered you all to hear her public announcement and to put to rest any... troubling headlines that may be circulating.” Then he motions for her to step up and moves back to her right. Naga and the chief are at her left.

Tenzin left the notes for her at the podium. She clears her throat before speaking, “Hello... I'm Korra, your new Avatar.”

More cameras flash and the barrage of questions come flying in faster than she can answer.

“Avatar, does this mean you've moved to Republic City?” One asks.

“Er, well sort of-”

“Were you trying to send a message to the Triads yesterday?” Another interrupts.

“I thought that was pretty obvious-”

Then another, “Will you be fighting crime or the anti-bending revolution or both?”

“Both?”

“Will you be working with Chief Beifong and the police?”

Korra visibly cringes and whispers to herself. “Not unless I have to…”

She grips the podium, feeling Tenzin’s stress and Chief Beifong’s disapproval. Hoping to backtrack, she flips through the cards. The reporters continue their pressure. “I-uh am honored...to-” She gives up on that card and picks another. Then another. None of these sound like me.

Ugh, forget it!

She takes a deep breath, “Uh, yes, I am definitely here to stay, but honestly... I don't exactly have a plan yet. “See I'm still in training... but-"

Quite murmurs spread through the crowd. Korra continues, deciding on brutal honesty, “look... all I know is Avatar Aang meant for this city to be the center of peace and balance in the world, and I believe we can make his dream a reality. I look forward to serving you! I am so happy to be here. Thank you Republic City!”

Tenzin cuts off any more questions and ushers her away quickly. When they're in his office he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “I’m not sure why I expected you to stick to the cues.”

“Eh,” Korra shrugs, “I thought I’d wing it. Isn’t that how Aang sort of dealt with things sometimes?”

“I suppose,” he gives it some thought, “but he did have trusted friends and allies for help.”

She bawls her fists to crack her knuckles, “Well, looks like I’m just gonna have to make a new team. And I think I know the first two members.”

#legend of korra #lok #korra #fanfic #fix-it #ao3 #ffn.net #wattpad

1 note · View note