#i found out this account reaches 10 years old in december | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cisthehuman · 11 months ago

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2024--Wow it's in 2 days!

It's been a wild ride both personally and stream wise!

What Went Down in 2023:

Graduated w/ my Masters, and with that paid my way through grad school

Got diagnosed with PCOS and began treatment!

Got a part time job in my field!

Rebranded and started streaming again!

Started the CisLunar Visual Novel

Started a new music youtube!

(Please check it out! I put all of my tunes on there!)

What to look forward to in 2024!

I have major goals/projects I want to accomplish!

Project 1: The CisLunar Visual Novel!

My multimedia project, CisLunar, is one that has been in the works since I first started streaming possibly 2 or 3 years ago. It is only recently that I decided to take streaming seriously so while I've had my account for a while, I feel like I've only gotten in the swing of things earlier in December. Cislunar, a real word, means "between earth and the moon". It was a random word I found out about while I completed a word search on my phone and ever since, a story has been growing. Plus, as I go by Cis, it really fits lol

The crux of the story is about grief--acknowledging it, processing it, and adapting from it. Almost 3 years ago, I suddenly lost my father. I have been riddled with several emotions that I wanted to process and thus this story is born.

The story follows Lunar Sun (she/they), an alien cat woman who lives on Planet GJ504b (the pink planet). She is a radio host by day and a mafia informant by night. While she smiles and laughs, she's been making a dangerous habit, one that leads her to a new up and coming job. Online entertainment is at an all time high with entertainers reaching different people across the galaxy. The trouble is, people would like to keep their anonymity. Thus the now booming job of Mutualistic Parasite is born. Because they have nothing else to lose, Lunar takes the job leading them to Cis the Parasite (she/they). Cis the Parasite is quiet, stoic, and clearly a loner. Lunar believes they can be partners, but doesn't realize they have more in common with the earthling...

Ooooooh So Interesting! So Wonderous! It's So Unfinished LOL

So we have some goals for this year regarding the VisNovel:

Finish the script for the CisLunar Visual Novel!

Finish designing characters for the CisLunar Visual Novel!

Actually learn ren'py programming!

Project 2: Streaming

I started streaming part time on December 6 (I believe lol I'm bad with dates)! It's been so wonderful so far! Thanks to some wonderful artists, things look much shinier and new! Please take a gander at my twitch page (and follow! you know you want to):

twitch_live

I've been having fun playing games and drawing and I can't complain! However, there is one small issue--I don't get many viewers. While it is true that with whatever I make, I don't do things for numbers or follows, it is also true that streaming alone can be quite lonesome (shoutout to calcium for making it when they can and being a trooper in the chat! I genuinely perk up when you pop in because it is not just me anymore LOL).

That being said, I have a couple of goals for streaming this year!

Get 50 followers

Have at least 10 people chatting in chat.

Slowly but surely complete the PC-98 inspiration for my streams (I actually got a head start on this one; already got a new overlay commissioned~)

Learn more things I can do with obs plugins, to help with the PC-98-ification of the streams

Buy a better laptop to stream on (this one is nice and it lagging helps with the old school vibe I'm going for, but I need some better performance!)

And a big far away goal--have a big named vtuber say I'm their fave obscure streamer lolol

Project 3: Music!

Honestly, because of work and at the time how tired I was due to my health, I didn't have enough capacity to put out the big bulk of music I made. I literally have at the least 40 tracks that are just on soundtrap LOL

With that being said, starting in the new year, I plan to finally put this music out there! It needs to be out into the wild! I'm also going to do my best to draw a cover for each album as well (this is where the backlog gets created), but I've allowed myself to be happy with a cool free use image as well lol. With that being said, there are already 5 albums ready to be posted. They just need cover images and they'll be put up!

I'm also close to finishing Vol.3 of Cosmic Canary Radio aka the stream music! Getting close to 50 tracks so it's the biggest one so far. I believe I have 5 tracks left and then I'll be done! Here are some tracks as a preview of what's in Vol.3

(lol not all the bands use caps in their name, that's just a hilarious coincidence for the ones I chose to put here)

For this project, the goals are:

put out finished albums!!!

Put out Vol 3 of Cosmic Canary Radio!

Make a section (or separate tumblr) for the fake bands in this universe!

Project 4: Quasar

This is a very far away project, but I'd like to get much farther on it in hopes of working on it while finishing CisLunar Visual Novel.

Quasar has been in the works for at least 8 years now, but I've finally worked on it in earnest the past two years. It's influenced by shows/movies like Redline, Motorcity, Speedracer (the movie more than the show), etc. It connects with the zeitgeist within CisLunar loosely so unfortunately I need to get CisLunar started before I can start posting some things about it (I might break that rule though).

Goals for this project include:

finish designing characters

finalize how the story will be provided to readers

complete the plot lol

I have some personal goals too, but I won't go into to much depth here. Most of them revolve around my own mental and physical health, and while I said I would be open to a degree about my issues to help convey there is a real life human in reality behind this screen, I'll leave it at I'm gonna learn to live with PCOS and I'm tired of having a mentally sick mind. While this year has been quite positive for me, I also had some major lows that stopped me from doing what I love--creating things.

LOL ALSO--I plan to update this tumblr more! More sketches and designs and me putting my stream schedule on here and stuff! That was a run on sentence but it is to show how much stuff is going to be on here now!

This was an EXTREMELY long post, but I wanted to write out all of my goals. Maybe I'll come back at the end of next year and see how well I did!

Until then, seeeee youuu neext tiiimmeeeeee!

#cis rambles #original music #soundtrap #small streamer #pngtuber #black artist #black artists on tumblr

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softly-potter · 1 year ago

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Still Friends | Chapter 10: The Best Holiday

Summary: After a chance encounter at a party, Wanda and Bucky find they have more in common than they realized.

This fic is heavily inspired by 'Friends' by my lovely friend Poppy. She is aware of this fic and I've been given permission for this marvel-version retelling! If you haven't read her dramione fic 'Friends', I HIGHLY suggest it. I fell in love with the story and couldn't help but wonder, what if it was Wanda and Bucky instead of Hermione and Draco? Thus "Still Friends" was born. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky X Wanda

Word Count: 33,068

Warning: smut, drug use, depression

December 25th, 2027

Well then, tell me what’s so important about today’s date!

Bucky didn’t know what to make of any of the information he had just consumed. He had read multiple sites, multiple accounts, read and reread files. He had even found some of the video broadcasts that had been documented of Wanda’s perfect life in Westview. She was married, to Vision of course, but a Vision that worked at a desk and had a mop of blonde hair, and had two twin boys, Billy and Tommy. They looked semi like her; button nose, dark hair. One moment they had been infants, the next moment, young teens.

But it hadn’t been so perfect.

She’d accidently controlled the town, a population of people enslaved to her will, and she didn’t even know it.

Originally.

But then when she did find out what she was doing, and was approached by SWORD, she’d threatened them. Told them to leave her and her family alone or there would be consequences.

It’s such an opposite of the woman he knows, the Wanda in the files seemed like a stranger to him.

And then there was the matter of Vision. After dismembering him, they put him back together but it wasn’t him. It was a new, sleeker and colder version of the synthazoid they all had known. And apparently he was still out there, doing god knows what.

Bucky thinks about the files all day.

She hadn’t known she was hurting the people, right? And ultimately, she let them go, been apologetic as hell. Had ostracized herself, and accepted that she could not have her family.

Bucky is due to leave the day after Christmas, but be back in time for new years. Something about old hydra tech that had been dug up in Arizona. He debates asking to be postponed, for them to send someone else. He broaches the topic with her as she cooks Christmas eve dinner.

“I might apply for an extension.”

She doesn’t stop her movement, stirring the contents with several bowls as she flicks her wrist. Moving her fingers, the stove turns on by itself.

“For what?” She questions, opening the fridge. He shrugs, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Dunno,” he drawls. “Thought it might be nice to spend new years with ya.” Her gaze shifts from the fridge to him, giving him a side glance.

“New Years?” Reaching inside, she grabs the milk carton, closing the fridge with a flick of her wrist. “That's hardly an important holiday.”

He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be an important holiday for me to want to spend time with you.”

She’s blushing, unscrewing the lid on the carton as he gives her one of his charmer smiles.

“You’re too smooth, soldier,” she laughs, pouring in the milk. He strides up behind her, arms looping around her waist and rests his cheek atop her hair. “It’s ok, go work. I’ll be waiting when you get home.”

He could forgive Westview. What he couldn’t do was give her up. He had questions, concerns that maybe he wasn’t enough for her, but as he inhaled her shampoo, he swallowed his despues.

“How long does that have to be in the oven for?” He asks, dropping his arms so she can move. Picking up two trays, she juts her chin, and the oven door flops open with a clange.

“Mmmm this one for about an hour, and this one for about an hour and forty.” She says, peering at the recipe she'd scribbled on the notepad that laid open. “and then the potatoes can stay in as long as they want.”

Bucky wasn’t sure that was how cooking worked, but he chuckled, watching her slide the trays into the oven, closing the lid with a kick of her heel.

She dusts her hands off on her jeans, giving him a broad smile. “Best Christmas dinner coming right up.”

Walking slowly, bucky takes her chin in-between his fingers. “Happiness looks beautiful on you, sweetheart.” She beams, brows raised. “I know I can’t give you much but I hope you know how much I value everything you give me.”

And then he kisses her. Kisses her the way her husband would have if he were alive, making her remember how precious she is.

“I’m sorry Vision isn’t here,” Bucky whispers, leaning his forehead against hers. Her breath catches, the arms that are wrapped around his neck stiffening. “but he would be so proud of you.”

She doesn’t respond, only connects their mouths, hoping it can convey everything she doesn’t know how to verbalize. She doesn’t stop, pushing him against the counter and raising on the balls of her feet, kissing him senseless.

Hands under her ass, he picks her up, and her legs wrap around his waist instantly as he walks them to her room, their lips never parting.

Laying her on the bed, he begins to gently strip her of her clothing.

Unzipping her hoodie, he pushes it off her shoulders, creamy skin decorated with light freckles showing, and then her shirt. He adores the fact that she hates bras. Pulling at her pants he lifts her feet, dropping down to pull the pants away and fuck does she looks gorgeous.

As he slides off her panties, his eyes lock on hers, watching her become increasingly frustrated, grinning. It’s one of his favorite things to conjure in his mind when he sleeps away from her; the face she makes as she waits for him to take her.

He bends, pressing slow kisses to her outer thigh. One by her knee, then moving up and pressing another, her tongue flicking slowly. She’s whining, her fists clenching at the sheets, and his pride prickles as she groans from just his kisses.

He moves up to her hip bone, pressing a light kiss and her hand flies to his hair, pulling in urgency.

“Bucky,” she gasps, eyes hooded. “Please, please.”

“Please what?” He says softly, and kisses her hip again. He moves his head down, and in one movement places a sloppy kiss against her cunt. She arches immediately, whining louder when he pulls away.

Creating marks on her was easily one of his favorite things; it showed his claim to her, that she belonged with him in all aspects. He kisses the skin beneath her breasts, biting, and her cheeks flush.

Moving his mouth to the side, he twists his tongue around her nipple, and she’s breathing hard, hands cupping the back of his head, holding him to her. Scooting to the other breast, he continues his assault, moving up to her face, leaving marks in varying sizes in his wake.

“Don’t tease me,” she sighs as he bends to kiss her. He tweaks one nipple between his fingers. “Please, not tonight. I just need you.”

And because its their first Christmas together, he gives in. He halts his teasing, placing a kiss to her cheek before standing, slipping his shoes off as he watches her watch him. She slows her exhales as his shirt comes off, his hands moving to his belt and undoing the buckle. It clangs to the floor, pulling his trousers down with ease.

When he’s finally naked, he pushes her knees apart, crawling between and slotting himself there. Her legs wrap around him, arms reaching and hands searching.

Moving them up the bed, he kisses her nose, her cheek, the edge of her jaw. She kisses him, her lips moving softly against his, and when he enters her he moves slowly, wanting to savor the feeling of her around him.

She gasps and as he bottoms out she releases the smallest sigh. Forehead against hers, he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers with one hand and holding her hip with the other. He places their hands by her face, leaning up slowly so he can watch her.

Bucky begins moving, a slow pump as she adjusts to him. Her brows are raised, breathing rigid, and while he isn’t moving at an insane pace, its intense. This isn’t a quick fuck, or a race to cumming; its sensual, different then anytime before.

Her heels dig into his backside, encouraging him on and he quickens his movements, still watching her face. Its quicker now, and she gasps as her headboard slams into the wall. His lungs burn but he just has to kiss her, so he strains his neck, catching her lips. Her tongue swipes into his mouth, her loose hand wracking through his hair.

With his freehand he pushes her leg up higher, getting a newer, deeper access, and she moans against his mouth, the sound sending shivers to his spine. His cock is slamming into her spot, making her nails dig into his skin, creating marks of her own.

“You’re doing so well sweetheart,” he mumbles, releasing her mouth. Her lips are puckered from the pressure. “So so well.”

She’s clamping around him, her eyes rolling and he has to concentrate on not coming. Ladies first after all.

Panting, his head drops to her shoulder, and he bites lightly on her neck. She flutters again, this time her heels digging in harder, and as she cums he smiles into her skin.

He feels the words bubbling, fighting internally if he wants to open his mouth; but when he pulls his face back, eyes connecting with hers as he finishes, he’s never been more certain.

“I love you. Fuck, I love you Wanda, so much.”

The words slip from his mouth, coating them in a sense of finality, and her eyes grow wide, lips parting. She slams her lips on his, hands locked behind his head making his neck crane but it doesn’t matter, because he needs to kiss her.

He slumps slightly, leaning his weight onto her as he gasps for air.

He’s never been in love before, but he’s absolutely certain this is how it’s supposed to feel. He’s loved her for months, it had taken him a while to realize it but here they were. He’s told her, and she’s still in his arms.

They’re breathing hard, attempting to catch their breath, relishing in the post-sex euphoria thats settling in their bones. He slides out of her, laying to her left and she turns, facing him, and scoots closer.

The change in the air is palpable. A new door to their relationship has been opened, and it's full of endless possibilities, some good and some bad. He’s terrified, but mostly relieved; he loves her and she knows.

Breathing out of his nose, he drops his arm over her side, fingers rubbing up and down her back lightly. She smiles at him, staring, and the urge to sleep suddenly consumes him. He inhales, then gives her a look.

“Did the alarm for the food go off, sweetheart?”

Wanda's face drops and she shoots out of bed, her naked form darting out her bedroom door as Bucky laughs.

He finds her in the kitchen, still naked, as she hurriedly opens the oven with her magic, removing the dishes inside.

“Shit!” She screams. Bucky attempts to hold back another laugh, and hands her one of his shirts that she’d stolen. The trays are mostly crisped, and he dips a fork into the tray of sweet potatoes. The top layer is darkened, but the inside is a lovely orange as he blows on it.

“I fucking ruined it.” She wails, slipping the top over her head. He rolls his eyes, and takes a bite. It was hot, but tasted sweet, the Burnt marshmallow on top adding a campfire-esc flavor.

“It tastes amazing,” he offers, placing the fork down. “Just a little hot.”

They set the table, Bucky plugging in the christmas tree lights and Wanda lighting the candles. She exits the room to dress, and Bucky begins panicking as he pours them each a glass of wine. He still didn’t have a present for her. He couldn’t just leave to the store now, she’d be just a few minutes. He gives a frustrated groan.

By the time she sits at the table, hes in full panic mode. She serves him quickly, her excitement oozing, and he stares at her hands as she moves, his brows puckered.

He is such a fucking idiot. First he tells her he loves her then he can’t even get her a decent gift?

“Whats the matter?” She asks as she reaches for the salt.

“Hmm?” He questions, snapping back to reality. He picks up his fork, dipping it to his plate. “Oh, nothing. This looks amazing.”

He can feel her starring, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What is it.”

She poses it as a comment that needs to be matched, not a question that supposes answering, and he lowers his fork. “I…couldn’t find you a gift.” He murmurs, eyes downcast.

She takes a bite of her food, chewing as she waits for him to continue. His face is burning, and he looks at her helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just. You want this perfect christmas and I couldn’t even find a fucking present.”

Wanda giggles. His head snaps up, narrowing his eyes. She’s laughing, her head shaking slightly as she picks up her bread roll. “I burn nearly all our food and you’re worried about a gift?” She laughs, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Just eat up, soldier. I have your gift and I want to give it to you after we eat.”

His stomach pools with dread as she clears the dishes, placing the uneaten items in plastic containers and blowing out the candles. After clearing the table, she cleans the kitchen, her wrists flicking, and Bucky places the cleaned plates into her cupboard.

Its a domestic act, a civilized notion that they do the dishes and clean up together, but he cherishes it.

After they’ve finished, Wanda tugs him into the living room. Its well after seven now, the sun already dipping past the horizon line, and they settle in front of the christmas tree in the low-lit room.

“Alright, close your eyes.” She says, and his nerves spike but he does as she says. He hears her move, and her knee bumps his as they’re both cross legged. “Open.” Taking a breath, he opens his eyes.

She’s sitting before him, hands clenched in her lap and she’s smiling. He looks from her hands to her face, smiling nervously.

She returns a similar smile, ducking her face. “Its me, silly.” Her voice drops to a whisper, and she begins wringing her hands. “I’m…the gift. It sounds stupid out loud but…I-I am in…”

Her voice catches, and she takes a breath. “I’m in love with you.”

The words come out in a rush, and she can’t meet his eyes. “I love you, James.”

He kisses her, and she laughs against his lips. Hand on her jaw, she sighs, scooting closer until she’s straddling him, arms around his neck.

She loves him back. Jot this down as his best Christmas to ever fucking exist.

Cupping her cheeks he breaks the kiss, bumping her nose with his own. “I’m still sorry I couldn’t find you a gift.”

She smiles, biting her lip, one hand on his cheek. “You’re the best gift I could ever ask for.” Her eyes dim, casting downward. “I don’t deserve you, Bucky.” She wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders, crushing him to her.

“You deserve so much better,” he whispers into her hair. “and I’ll try my damnedest to be just that.”

#winter witch #wanda x bucky #bucky barnes #still friends

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textsfromthefifthbasement · 2 years ago

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2022 Year in Review

I feel like 2022 ended up being a really busy year for me! This was the first year of this blog being a general fandom blog rather than just a meme blog.

January: Started the month off by announcing that I was moving away from just being a texts from last night blog and I commissioned this piece from @chocobascas after a conversation with my beta. I finished my first multlichapter fanfic, All the Things Yet to Come.

February: Started publishing my Encanto/Poto AU which. Um. Oops. I might eventually rewrite what I have written of it because I was never happy with the pacing. Held the first annual Queer Week, which started on February 25. Published the oneshots Old Friends, When Will the Blood Begin to Race, Loneliness, and Fear Can Turn to Love as part of the event.

March: Queer Week continued, and I published the oneshots Quiet Hours, A New Life, and Healing. I wrote a smut reclist. I also wrote a smut oneshot titled Sweet Music's Throne.

April: Wrote and published the oneshot Unspoken Secrets, which to this day is my most popular fic. Reached 420 followers on 4/20 😎.

May: Participated in the second annual Paris Commune Week, hosted by @paperandsong. Reposted Old Friends from Queer Week for the event and wrote a POTO/Les Mis crossover oneshot for the event, Hope.

June: A pretty quiet month, announced the first annual Fluff Week.

July: Held the first annual Fluff Week. For the event, published my oneshots The Truth You Can't Hide, In Your Skin and Bone and Blood, I Found It, All on My Own, Grace in Your Heart and Flowers in Your Hair, Dark Stories of the North, and Hellfire.

August: Published the one shot Before We Get Too Old, which was a one shot I had started for fluff week and then it veered too much into angst.

September: Wrote the oneshot Preparation for Mortality for Crack Week. Behind the scenes, I started writing my next longfic at the beginning of this month.

October: Began publishing Offer Up Your Daughters, a Carmilla Webseries-inspired AU with a female Erik. Also published several POTO oneshots for various month-long events. The ones I published were The Ones She Had Lost and the Ones She Had Found, A Gift, The Saints Can't Help Me Now, All This Devotion (which actually got archived by the Whumptober account), No Way Out, and Begin Again. I didn't publicize it on this blog, but I also published my first oneshots outside the POTO fandom this month. For Stranger Things, I published Don't Let Me Be Lonely Tonight. For The Witcher, I published Undo This Storm. For the MCU, I published Night Terror. And for Star Wars, I published Hiding, Breaking Out, Stargazing, and The Third Option.

November: Very quiet, just continued posting chapters of Offer Up Your Daughters.

December: Accidentally went viral, -100/10 would not recommend. Published Merry Crimes for Christmas, which is a Christmas-themed oneshot from the Offer Up Your Daughters universe. Finished Offer Up your Daughters! Started work on separating old oneshots out instead of keeping them all in multichapter oneshot collections. Announced the second annual Queer Week to be held again from February 25-March 3.

What to expect in 2023: The sequel to Offer Up Your Daughters will start being posted January 16. The third and final installment will also be published this year. I will also hold Fluff Week again. Other than that, we'll see!

#the phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera #year in review

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dongsichenged · 3 years ago

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here’s a really comprehensive overview of how things shook down in the c-fandom by reddit user u/visible-following-50 (as of 11pm CDT 8/24/2021)

I wanna provide some C-ent perspective on this:

Overall all accusations concentrate in the period between August 2019 - February 2020

PART 1: Monday 23th 10-11pm The scandal first erupt on Twitter but reached Weibo around 10pm. There were instantly 10+ gossip accounts who were sharing the screenshots with no translation, fresh from Twitter. It took a bit for users on Douban to translate them and reshare them on Weibo. The gossip accounts definitely got tipped off, since they posted about it all at the same time.

Fans tried to look for proof the pictures, the screenshots, the audio and the timeline were fake. Apart from some small fans, most of his big fans asked Lumis to not share unverified debunks... they had previous experience sharing things too early only to find themselves ridiculed, so they pretty much just spend the whole night looking for harder proofs and keeping his trending topic on the entertainment list and not the main one. I am PERSONALLY quite confident, the company knew already what was going at that point. His trending topic never reached the main board... it was the #1 on the ent board for the whole night... people are guessing it was company’s doing...

As for the debunking proofs. I can confidently say, none of the proofs given and shared by small fans were solid proofs. That’s why his big accounts in China never started to share massively those posts. Twitter instead was more vocal in believing them.

1/ Pictures: the finger one is the fishiest one. It looks extremely not like his finger. But the three selfies, no fans managed to find where they come from. The only possible guess they come from leaked Kakaotalk. 2/ Audio: the fans found one part of the audio coming possibly from Bubble, but there’s a slight change in tone and the second part of the audio still is missing from Bubble. People use it as a debunking proof, but we can’t say for sure 3/ Timeline: the alleged nights they spent together did in fact coincide with the nights Lucas was in Seoul, just a very packed agenda. Like August 28th, he just landed in Incheon from Dubai at 5-6pm and supposedly spent the night with her right after. September 9th, he took a flight from Shanghai to Seoul, landed, spent the night with her, the day after directly took a flight to Dallas for SuperM concert. Technically all possible, also technically could be fabricated to match his schedule perfectly as second half of 2019 Lucas schedule was known to everybody due to SuperM and the amount of flights info. Beginning of December he was in China despite her claims. That is the only part we can be 100% it’s not true, since we have receipts of Lucas being in Beijing doing fanmeetings.

As for the gaslighting, asking for money and being rude to her, we have no proof whatsoever, since all the Wechat shared just show Lucas saying I love u and trying to meet up with her.

At this point, 99% of his fandom in China still believed in him and many spent the night not sleeping, to clear his searches, battle with antis and so on. His group mates akgaes also spent the night shitting on him.

PART 2: Tuesday 6pm The whole day went by with Lumis still clearing his searches, with anti inventing new rumors (they shared a dick pick of him quickly proven to be fake) which had Lumis and different members akgaes fight, but nothing big in comparison. After Jalapeño teaser dropped people were excited and we received also info Lucas and Ten have booked flights for China on Sept 10th. Then at 6pm a new girl came out, again, the news instantly shared by 10+ gossip accounts on Weibo, spreading the visibility.

The second girl is a Chinese girl claiming to have been contacted by him after a fansign (she provided receipts of her fansign participation) and supposedly met up in ShengYang. The girl had no pictures just a bunch of screenshots. She claimed they had sex with no protection and him lying saying he hasn’t had sex in a year and similar stuff.

Overall by this time, most of fans still didn’t believe her since she provided no pics and all the Wechat conversation were seen as not strong proofs (they can be easily photoshopped)

PART 3: Wednesday 8pm The third girl posted on her weibo account (with no personal info), the final blow. With pictures.

She supposedly got his contact by sending him a message via airdrop once she found him on Bluetooth during an offline event. They quickly added each other. They “dated” or more correctly they FWB for a period where she asked multiple times whether he was single, but supposedly the timing overlapped with the two previous girls, hence why the third girl decided to expose him, cause she felt cheated.

She accused him of cheating, badmouthing his members (they don’t work enough, one of them stole one of his fashion gig), not liking Keep Running (too much pressure from seniors).

Keep in mind none of the above accusations are found in her shared screenshots, as she said these are part of their conversation while drinking.

She provided 3 pictures: one of him sleeping (which many fans suspect to be a picture of him sleeping on WayV dorm due to matching sofa and Bella’s toy) and two pictures of him with drinks and sigarettes (the fishy part is that his hairstyle doesn’t look like his hairstyle in end of 2019. Edit: it could have been Moonwalk period hair.). While girl #1 selfies could have been Kakaotalk profile pics, these pictures look 1/ not photoshopped 2/ taken without him knowing.

At this point, Lucas big fan accounts broke down... this girl pictures were the final blow. While some fans still finds them fishy and claim it could have been staff selling their pics (which allegedly happened before between staff and sasaeng), after 24 hours of radio silence and continuous rumors, no sleep and constant fighting, his fancafe and his most high profile fans gave up and believed the accusations. Please note his solo stans only believe that he did sleep around, no mentions of badmouthing or his personality.

Lucas’ image among Chinese fans is definitely purer than what Ifans think of him. If Ifans think him being sexually active is nothing strange, for C-fans him sleeping and especially with fans, multiple at once, was too much to handle. Also many felt like at this point, regardless of whether he’s able to disprove the accusations, his image in China is ruined forever. SM not saying anything was too much to handle.

PART 4: Tuesday 10pm onwards.

With the fancafe leaving and many big fans leaving, the rest of Lumis saw this as a sign these big fans knew more than them, had some sort of proof from SM that the allegations were true. Rumors spread like fire among fandom and many fans quit due to fancafe quitting.

Fancafe quitting trended at #3 on Weibo main board, that single Weibo post had over half a million likes.

The rest of the night, Lucas trended with various hashtag, all on main board, between 3 to 15 in terms of positions. The same day a TV presenter was ousted for r*pe.

One of WayV most famous sasaeng shared on Weibo that Lucas does have an habit of flirting back when you send him something via airdrop. This sort of backed the possibility of the third girl story of how she met Lucas.

The rest of the night we still had some small rumors spreading of people saying that he does flirt with fans, he does look like a fuck boy, he was already a player before debut and so on. To be honest, I wouldn’t care about these since they all sound like people jumping on him.

Some WayV and almost all solo fans of the other members started to ask for his removal from the group. Many believe the accusations (since again, after 24 hours no solid debunking has been offered) while some others in any case think his career is done and his image will only tarnish the group.

As you can see, all of this play out very quickly. A bit over 24 hours and we are yet to see any response from SM.

Currently the remaining Chinese Lumis (a new fancafe opened to substitute the old one) are mostly just waiting for some confirmation or debunking from Lucas or the company itself. On Weibo they just basically gave up on digging for more proof themselves (apart form some small individual fans)

#lucas #wayv #.text #clarification

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valhahazred · 4 years ago

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Cryptid Mythos bonus! Everything that appears on this sheet is an entity reported by real people. Why no Mythos this time? Because these encounters are so strange in appearance or behavior that they could slip right into the Sothic multiverse with little to no alteration or alternative explanation. Good luck Investigators!

All Colours Sam In 1973, in the town of Sandown, 7 year old “Fay” and an unnamed friend encountered a very strange individual as they explored the fringes of a golf course. They first became aware of something weird going on when they heard a sound like an ambulance siren in the distance. Following the sound to a footbridge over a creek, the two children were confronted by a three fingered hand wearing a blue glove that beckoned them from beneath the bridge. Awaiting them was a seven foot humanoid figure wearing strange clownish clothing, seemingly reinforced with wooden slats that protruded from his sleeves and pant-legs. The figure had a book in his hands, which he immediately fumbled and dropped in the water. He splashed around cartoonishly before recovering his book, leaping out of the creek and away from the children. He moved to a small metal shed with a high-kneed hopping gait and disappeared inside. The children went to leave, only for the mysterious entity to exit again with a microphone that appeared to be the source of the wailing that drew the children in the first place. It spoke into the microphone in a friendly, non-threatening tone. “Are you still here?” The children were curious and unafraid, so they moved towards him. He held up his book and pointed at the words in order to introduce himself. “Hello and I am all colours, Sam”. They asked if he was human and he said no and when asked if he was a ghost he replied, “well, not really but I am in an odd sort of way.” The children asked what he was then and he simply said, “You know.” During their conversation with the entity they learned that although he went by Sam, he didn’t really have a name, he claimed that there were others like him and that he was afraid of humans and that he was a pacifist, refusing to harm others even if they should attack him. He invited them into his hut, where he shared some wildberries and showed them a magic trick, where he placed a berry into his ear and seemingly teleported it to his mask’s eyehole and then to his mouth with quick jerks of his head. They continued to converse for almost an hour before the children decided to leave. Was he an alien in a make-do disguise? An animated scarecrow? A figment of childish imaginations? Or just a strange homeless man dressed like a clown? Whatever the truth, All Colours Sam, also known as the Sandown Ghost Clown, was never seen again. The Crazy Critter of Bald Mountain This weird looking creature was sighted by three people in the week following a fiery object that passed over the Bald Mountain near Newaukum Lake in Washington. When the local Sheriff began an investigation into the sighting he was visited by heavily armed and uniformed men who claimed to be from the Air Force and forced him to give up the case. Old Saybrook Blockheads Mary Starr was awoken in the early morning on December 16, 1957 by a bright light shining into her bedroom. She looked out the window to witness a 30 foot cigar shaped craft hovering over her yard, less than 10 feet from her house! Inside the apparent spaceship she witnessed a pair of small creatures with fleshy skirts and clear cubic “heads” containing a floating red bulb. They raised their right arms and as a third entity appeared in the portholes the ship brightened before shooting off into the sky. Space Brains of Palos Verdes As John Hodges and Pete Rodriguez were leaving a party at two in the morning they were not expecting to meet anything from out of this world but as the car turned on its headlights illuminated two bizarre entities! The men panicked and drove away, ending the story for Rodriguez as he made it home with no complications. However, in Hodges case he next became aware of himself two and a half hours later in the driveway of his home, sitting in the car as if in a trance. Troubled by the missing time, he eventually went for hypnosis in an attempt to recover his memories of the night. While under regression he claimed that while he got his friend home safely, when he returned to his own residence the disembodied brains were waiting for him! He asked them what they wanted and suddenly he was elsewhere, in a dark room with entities that looked like the classic Greys but very tall and with webbed six fingered hands and yellow eyes. They explained that the brains were “merely translators” used in order for these beings to interface telepathically with humans. He claimed they warned him that Earth had “too much power” and showed him a map of the planet covered in lights that indicated places where humans might destroy themselves. They showed him images of dead planets and made several inaccurate prophecies before he suddenly found himself back in his car. Unlike many other abductees with similar experiences Hodges did not try to make excuses for their bunk predictions or feel like it made him important in any way. He simply assumed the aliens were untrustworthy and were playing with him. The Casa Blanca Entities This is one of the strangest and most confusing accounts of a Close Encounter of the Fifth kind, as eight children ranging from the ages of four to fifteen were terrorized by a parade of extraterrestrial monsters one summer day in 1955. It started with an array of UFOs, sun-like, disk-shaped and semi-transparent, appearing and disappearing with musical pings. Then came the entities. First was a ghostly being bearing a shiny belt buckle that was so brilliant it could blind someone looking straight at it. It was followed by disembodied arms in riveted armor that seemed to beckon to the children, small strange men that used dual ray guns to paralyze and finally a many limbed creature. All through this strange arrival something spoke to the children telepathically, offering to take them away. The kids they spoke to often seemed to be entranced, moving to the dancing UFOs mindlessly and required physical force or even being hosed down to snap them out. One child even fell off a roof in an attempt to reach a UFO, only to be protected by a red force field. The weirdest part of all is that not only did adults not see anything, they couldn’t. Despite being present for the event a mother of one of the children was unaware of the paranormal happenings. Does this mean it was all in the children’s heads, as they were overtaken by some kind of playground hysteria? Or is there some alien force that not only wants our children but can make themselves invisible to undesirable observers. The Garson Invaders In 1954 three of these insectoid entities appeared to Canadian miner Ennio La Sarza. Their appearance was already exceptional by the usual standards of reported alien contact but in a particularly striking detail their faces appeared to glow in colours La Sarza had never seen before! The beings asked La Sarza to do something for them but he refused, not only to do it but to even speak of it. It was so awful and “outright apocalyptic” that he even considered asking the RCMP to lock him up in case the creatures he’d met had some way to enforce his cooperation. The Poole Pyramid This multi-hued metallic pyramid appeared in 1965 to seven year old Terrence Druce of Poole in Dorset when he awoke to it hovering over the foot of his bed. He shrieked in terror, waking his younger brother in time for him to also witness it as it faded into thin air. That encounter might have never been recorded if the brothers hadn’t seen it again the very next day, lurking in a parking lot. They said it seemed aware of their presence and turned to watch them but it did not follow them when they decided to flee the scene. Delta Dogs An anonymous woman was driving through a snowstorm on route 07 through Syracuse in January 1958. She came across what at first seemed to be a downed plane but as she approached her engine slowly ran itself down and the car stopped itself. As she desperately tried to restart the car the snowstorm calmed and more details became apparent. Projecting out of the large object she’d thought was a plane crash was a 50 foot illuminated pole. Two strange beings rose up along the pole, floating by it as it started to retract. When the pole finished sinking into the object the creatures disappeared and the craft took off so fast she couldn’t make out where it went. The Electric Serpent of Tacoma This is easily the most unusual sighting of a sea creature that I’ve ever heard of. Seven men camping on the shore of Black Fish Bay in 1893 encountered a sea monster that appeared to be cybernetic, if not entirely biomechanical! Disturbed by a horrible noise and blinding lights the men left their camp to find a huge, hairy walrus-like animal with steaming horns, bands of coppery metal and a revolving propeller-like tail! One of the men approached it to get a better look, only to be struck by an electric blast from its copper bands and fell to the ground as if dead. When one of his friends tried to pull him to safety, he was likewise shocked by the impossible animal. The other men fled into the woods after seeing two of their number seemingly killed and the Electric Serpent seemed to lose interest and swam out into Puget Sound. Once they were sure it was gone the remaining men returned to the beach and were elated to find their friends burned and stunned but still very much alive! So what happened? Was it just one of the sadly common newspaper hoaxes of the time? Or did a bunch of 19th century fishermen find a literal fucking pokemon? You decide! Stickmen The Stickmen are an extremely recent phenomenon, with reports starting within the last 10 years or so. They are described as being stick thin and roughly humanoid, sometimes with bubble heads, glowing eyespots or even top hats. They range in size from human-like to towering in excess of 20 feet. What is most interesting about them is their apparent two dimensionality, sometimes appearing the same no matter what angle they are viewed at and sometimes being able to turn to the side and vanish as though they were never there. They are also frequently reported as being accompanied by a feeling like static electricity and of aggression or hostility. Despite those impressions the Stickmen do not appear to be hostile, instead seeming surprised and immediately retreating from a witness.

#call of cthulhu #cthulhu mythos #cryptids #eldritch #aliens #monsters #sandown ghost clown #all colours sam #The crazy critter of bald mountain #Old Saybrook Blockheads #Space Brains of Palos Verdes #The Casa Blanca Entities #The Garson Invaders #The Poole Pyramid #Delta Dogs #The Electric Serpent of Tacoma #Stickmen #my art #cryptid mythos

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hewwo-fwends · 4 years ago

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you gonna be okay? - pjs + zcl (NCT)

hello. I wrote this to help myself out of a mental funk kinda ting, which is really depressing in itself, but it did help. I thought it would be a waste if no one saw it, ya know? it's a bit controversial. fun fact: I made a whole new account to post this so no one I know can find me here.

so um for context, both jisung and chenle are quite a bit older than me, and I'm over a year legal in my country. anyway. here we go yeehaw.

warnings: angst (⚠️⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️⚠️ MENTIONS OF SH AND PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACKS), kinda smut (like a little bit of grinding and marking and tongue salsa), jisung has anxiety or smth idk, chenle misses jisung, ends with fluff and stuff it's kinda kyoot

word count: 4.4k

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

the recurrence of these emotions should have been the first warning sign. how he had felt this way so often over the past 3 years. maybe the first time he marked up his own body should have been the second warning sign. the numbness within him fading to a euphoric stinging sensation within seconds, then to guilt and anxiety. no one could know. then maybe the third warning sign would have been his growing dependency on things that kill you from the inside. drinking and smoking to feel anything but numb or anxious or like he wanted to be crushed under a car. but none of the above felt like warning signs to him, because between the worst lows and the happy period right after, he would forget anything happened. he would ignore it. he would tell himself it wasnt a big deal, and that no one should know. so no one did.

jisung was seen as the funny, nice friend in this way. he would listen to others' problems and help them as much as he could. he would give people his things to make them happy, not expecting to get anything back himself. he wouldn't try to make others laugh, but would feel proud when he did. people liked him in a casual way. he was a good guy, a kind guy. jisung thought that too sometimes, before he stopped himself. "don't get too into your own head." he would think. "show these people how nice you are. be the happy person that people like. that will make you happy all the time." clearly, that didn't always work. but, to fulfill his purpose, he ignored and forgot the times when he didn't live up to his happy persona. it didn't happen. he was happy. always happy. nothing but happy. and he prayed to any and all gods that he would never get caught out.

°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Jisung. Talk to me for a sec." Coach spoke from across the gym. Whilst still laughing about a joke with his friends, he jogged over to the coach, smiling brightly. "What's up with you today? You get enough sleep? You were all over the place. I swear I saw you trip over your own feet a couple times." Jisung's smile almost faltered, but he caught himself before it could.

"Ah, coach. You know me. I may have spent a little bit longer on Overwatch last night than usual but it's only because of this one guy that kept busting my nu- killstreak, man! I had to get him back or I wouldn't have slept at all!" Coach laughed at the teen's obvious rage thinking back to this other player and his tone softened.

"Yeah, yeah. I do get it. But don't let it happen again, alright? You're my star player and I'm counting on you for regionals. You won't let me down, right?"

"Sir, no, sir!" Jisung projected.

"You cheeky brat. Go on. Get outta here." the coach laughed as Jisung jogged back over to where his friends were joking and packing their bags.

"Hey, Sung. What was that about?" questioned Jeno, whilst spraying himself with deodorant and suffocating the rest of the group.

"Watch it, fuckface!" exclaimed Renjun, coughing up his organs.

"Oh, nothing. Just talking about regionals." Jisung replied after clearing his throat of Lynx Africa.

"Ahh, star player Jisung! But you were a bit slow today, huh? I might just steal your spot up the coach's ass, you get me?" Jaemin nudged Jisung, making the group laugh at the boy's teasing remark.

"Never in a million years, Na." Jisung shoved the boy before grabbing his bag and sidestepping away to avoid reprisal. The other boys followed this action and started walking towards the door, talking between each other.

"So, do y'all wanna get some food or something?" Haechan asked the group, hinting that he definitely did want to get some food. The group all murmured in agreement, apart from Jisung, who replied "Ah, I would love to but my mum wants me back for dinner with the family tonight."

"Aww momma's boy Jisungie. How cute." Jaemin teased before reaching to squeeze the youngest's cheeks. Jisung backed away, making sounds of fear whilst smiling at his friend's show of affection. Jaemin eventually backed off and Jisung rubbed his now red cheeks. He drifted to the back of the group walking through the school's empty corridors. A few seconds later, Chenle found his way next to him.

"Hey, are you gonna make it on the PlayStation tonight?" he asked excitedly.

"Ah, I don't know, man. Depends if my mum lets me." Jisung replied whilst rubbing the nape of his neck.

"What? But she didn't let you play last night! That's child cruelty, I swear!" his shrill voice rang through Jisung's ears, making him flinch to the side.

"Yeah. I know it sucks. But you guys are great without me, too! You'll be fine, man."Jisung reassured the loud boy. They continued to talk about the game that Jisung had missed the night before until the group reached a crossroads. They waved goodbye and Jisung split off from the group who were heading to a diner around the corner. As he walked down the pavement towards his house, he realised how dark it had gotten in only 10 minutes. It made sense as it was December, and he sighed as he looked at the expansive sky with greys and whites mixing with dark blue. As he approached his house, he noticed that the Christmas lights had been put up, white and orange fairy lights strung across the bushes outside and over the front door. He smiled to himself. As he stepped into the house, his fingers tingled from the contrast of the freezing winter air outside and the cozy central heating inside. "Mum?" Jisung shouted down the corridor whilst taking off his shoes and putting his bag on the floor.

"Hey, Sungie! How was school?" her voice appeared from the living room and Jisung walked towards it.

"Ah, same old, same old, you know?" he shrugged.

"Are you not hanging out with your friends today?" she asked as she paused her TV programme. She had been watching Rick and Morty and Jisung couldn't help but think how much she would fit in with his age group. The thought made him cringe.

"No. They were all tired and had to go home." He said whilst looking at the paused TV screen.

"Oh, well. I hope you don't mind but me and dad are going out tonight with some friends so do you mind making your own dinner? Your sister's staying at her friend's house so don't worry about her and your brother's in his room with his friend and they're doing their own thing." Jisung's mum explained. Jisung's face almost dropped but, once again, he caught himself and smiled.

"Of course, that's fine. I'll make myself some ramen. Have fun tonight!" he said as he walked out of the room and grabbed his bag.

"You too!" his mum spoke before the sound of the TV started playing again. Jisung jogged upstairs and down the corridor to his room before walking in and locking the door behind him, as was his routine. He sighed and dropped his bag on the floor, standing still by the door. Next in his routine was the sudden wave of cold that rushed over him, so much colder than the rest of the house. Then his lip would start quivering and he may have let out a whimper or two, before dropping onto his bed and sobbing with no tears, just the feeling of hopelessness running through his veins. His body curled in on itself and his hands clawed at his bedsheets as his face dug into his pillow. He would then rock back and forth for the next half an hour, chanting such phrases as "I wish I was dead" or "I'm horrible" or maybe "I hate this". What it was that he hated? He couldn't tell you. He just knew he didn't want to be there anymore. Or anywhere really. He would contemplate carving into himself like a Halloween pumpkin again but would always chicken out just before, remembering how tiring it was to hide it the first times. He didn't want to add anymore stuff to his plate. Also, his physical appearance needed to match his social appearance. No one could know what he was like on his own. It was his own little secret. However, he needed to feel something. So he would curl up on his floor, his head against his carpet, and scratch all down his arms, as hard as he could. The sensation made him feel something, and feeling something felt euphoric. After maybe managing to shed a few tears and falling asleep, he would wake up feeling drained and somewhat annoyed for not being able to see the scratches on his arms. But of course, he would then think of himself as an attention-whore, and make himself forget anything had happened. His day then continues from then with him being the happy social butterfly he was known to be. And the cycle would repeat.

°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Hey, you better come hang with us tonight. I feel like I hardly see you anymore!" Chenle spoke to Jisung in what he would call his "quiet voice". Luckily, they were in the canteen and there was hardly anyone around.

"You know I would love to, but I've got a lot of homework to do! Mr Suh is being a real bitch lately, you know?" Jisung spoke back as he played with the rice on his plate. School food really did nothing for his constant nausea.

"But you've been working so much lately! You've had to do homework almost every day after school for the past month! And before that, your mum needed you to come home for dinner every night! I miss you, Sungie." Chenle's typically loud and screeching voice fell at the last bit, and Jisung looked up at the boy through his fringe. What did he mean by "I miss you" when he was right there in front of him? He hadn't gone anywhere.

"What do you mean "you miss me"? I'm right here, Lele." Jisung almost reached his hand out for Chenle's on the other side of the table, but ended up deciding against it and just leaning forwards slightly.

"But you're not though. I only see you in school now. And you hardly talk to me anymore. You used to tell me about stuff that's going on in your life. Now I have to talk to you first to get you to notice to me." Jisung's eyes began to get hot as he looked down at the table. He could feel his heartbeat in his stomach and his muscles begin to twitch. This wasn't good. "Do you even like me anymore? I thought you were my best friend, Jisung. What's happened to you?" Chenle's voice held an apprehensive and somewhat emotional tone. Jisung couldn't breathe. He needed to get out of there.

"I've gotta go." he rushed out his words in a hushed tone to stop his tears from falling, whilst pushing up from his seat and speeding out of the canteen as fast as possible without running. His eyes stayed trained on the ground and the tears welling up made him feel like he was about to throw up. He pushed open the door to a toilet block he knew no one would be in before rushing into a cubicle and locking the door behind him. He broke.

His sobs rang against the walls of the cubicle, no matter how much he tried to repress them. He slapped his hand over his mouth in attempt to quieten himself, and his tears fell like torrential rain, down his face, his hands and to the floor. His back slid down the wall of the cubicle until he was curled up on the floor in a puddle of his own trembling limbs and tears. He stayed in that state for 5 more minutes, neither his tears nor his emotions subsiding. Then, he heard the door of the toilet block crash open, promptly followed by a shout of "Jisung?". Chenle.

Jisung's eyes clenched shut so tightly that he was seeing stars, his nails now digging into his cheeks with how tightly he was covering his mouth. The tears didn't stop but at least they didn't make any noise. "Jisung. I know you're there. I won't break down the door. Just let me in." Chenle's voice turned softer, but now with an added hint of concern. Jisung dreaded to think that Chenle was concerned about him. He tried to stop the tears so he could face his friend, but they wouldn't stop, and he couldn't even move. He felt trapped where he was. His body had given up. "I'm not going anywhere, Jisung. I promise." Chenle's voice sounded close, like his head was against the other side of the door. Hearing him say that somehow made Jisung break even further. He didn't know that was possible. His sobs could suddenly be heard again even through his hands tight grasp on his face. "Jisung?" Chenle's voice sounded panicked now. He didn't want to do that to him. He needed to let him know he was there, even like this.

"Chenle-" he rasped out between sobs. His voice clearly sounded tired and weak, with a hint of desperation.

"Please, open the door, Sungie." Jisung sobbed harder, feeling incapable of moving whatsoever, but his best friend's distress gave him an ounce of motivation, but not without added guilt and shame. He hid his head in his arm against his knees and blindly reached for the lock on the door. He felt it unlock and immediately curled his other hand around himself, hoping to not be seen. Of course, that didn't happen. He heard a gasp from above and then felt the brush of air against his arm as his friend dropped down next to him. His sobs had still not stopped and he felt the smallest he had ever felt in his life right at this moment, curled up on the toilet floor next to his best friend. He didn't know what he had expected to happen, but it certainly wasn't the warm feeling of his friends arms wrapping around him, and the warmth of his breath against his neck. They didn't usually do that with each other. This only spurred on more tears, but slightly fuzzier ones. With some sensation back in his body, he twisted his hand upwards to hold onto his friend's arm, a small message to the other boy in an attempt to translate how grateful he is to him and that he's the best friend anyone could ever wish for. It may have not translated that whole message, but he hoped that it got pretty close.

"You're gonna be okay, Sungie." Chenle spoke into the crying boy's neck. The warmth tickled him and caused a hot shiver to run across his spine. Wait. Was he blushing? In shock about having just blushed at the actions of his best friend, he managed to lift his head up and open his eyes. His sight was blurred but he could see the wavy outline of his small friend through his unrelenting tears. He could feel hands upon his cheeks as they turned his face towards him to wipe at the tears under his eyes with the soft pads of his thumbs. He hoped so much that his face was red enough from crying to cover up the ever-growing blush that adorned his cheeks. He bit his lip and looked down in embarrassment, but Chenle didn't allow it. With his hands still resting on his cheeks, he lifted his head back up and pressed his forehead against the others. Out of surprise, Jisung's right hand shot up to hold onto the other's elbow, before sliding up to his hand against his cheek instead. He rested his hand on top of Chenle's and leant into it slightly, enjoying the feeling way too much than he should have felt okay with. His eyes fell shut again as he released a sigh that fluttered against Chenle's cheeks. They sat there, sharing each other's space, for what felt like years. Jisung wished the feeling would never stop. But as long as Chenle was with him, he felt like it never would.

After his tears had slowed and his breathing had evened out, Jisung felt Chenle's hand slide away from his face. He felt himself almost starting to cry yet again, before Chenle's fingers slid between his own and his thumb started rubbing his hand. Chenle's head pulled away from Jisung's and tilted against the wall they were both leaning against instead. "Is this okay?" Chenle asked in a genuinely hushed and soothing voice, one that Jisung didn't know he was capable of. He couldn't tell what Chenle was referring to until he squeezed Jisung's hand ever so slightly and Jisung blushed yet again.

"Yeah. It's fine." the corners of his mouth tilted ever so slightly before he realised and stopped himself. But Chenle didn't even try to stop himself. He had already noticed Jisung's mistake and smiled back widely himself. This only made Jisung feel shy and bashfully smile at the floor.

"Your smile is so pretty." Chenle stated, as if it was the most obvious fact in the galaxy. Jisung's eyes shot up to the other boy's face, who was now giggling at Jisung's reaction. Jisung quickly looked back down to the floor as he felt the flustered feeling spread all over his head.

As Chenle's giggles quietened down, Jisung tilted his head against the wall, before realising just how close their faces were. He could feel Chenle's breath against his lips. He felt an involuntary sound creeping up his throat, but swallowed hard to keep it down. "Are you feeling any better?" Chenle spoke in a deep voice, quiet and gentle on Jisung's currently sensitive ears.

"I do feel better right now." Jisung responded, his voice still weak and raspy.

"Right now?" Chenle's eyebrows curled in confusion. "Why right now?"

Jisung couldn't stop the words from coming out. "Because you're here." His eyes widened the second after he let it slip from his lips, having shocked himself with the obvious "line". He didn't know how to repair that. So he just stayed silent, red in the face and frozen. He only barely noticed Chenle's small smile before he registered that they were somehow even closer to one another. He felt their noses brush together and this time, he didn't think fast enough to stop the involuntary sound falling off his lips. A hushed whimper spilled into the shared breathing space between them. Chenle's head was back where it was before, pressed against Jisung's, and Jisung couldn't stop himself from glancing down at his best friend's lips. His best friend, he thought. This was not normal, and he knew it. But he didn't care. It felt so much better than anything he had ever done before. So much more natural. He wanted this. So bad.

His mouth was slightly open, trying to maximise his air intake as the air around him suddenly got so hot.

"Can I?" He felt Chenle's breath against his tongue, and his nose brushed against Jisung's once more.

"Please." It came out much more whiny than he had expected, but he wasn't even ashamed anymore as his best friend's lips melted into his own, their synchronisation making Jisung feel like he had been missing this his whole life. Chenle. Just Chenle. They seemed to fall into a trance as the taste and feeling of one another became addictive. Jisung only realised what was happening when he felt a hand sliding up his arm and towards his neck, the thumb rubbing against his jugular. Another hand had slid up his leg and was squeezing his thigh. Jisung couldn't help but grab onto the front of Chenle's shirt and pull his body even closer as he released yet another whimpering noise. That was a cue for Chenle to lick at Jisung's bottom lip, subtly asking for permission to take this further. It wasn't even a question for Jisung. He let his mouth fall open and Chenle was immediately there, lapping at the other's tongue with his own. The feeling made Chenle groan slightly, and Jisung's fist clenched tighter on his shirt in response, another whimper falling from his occupied lips. He felt breathless in the best way, so didn't even attempt to pull away to breathe. He didn't want to stop and could tell that neither did Chenle.

A few minutes later, Chenle had explored Jisung's entire mouth and wanted to find out some more about the boy, so his hands fell to his hips and pulled slightly, inviting Jisung to come closer. Jisung took this offer with delight, climbing onto the other's lap and leaning back onto the other's knees as Chenle slid his back further up the wall for a more comfortable position. They both quickly found each other's lips again and got right back into the flow of the situation. Chenle's hands had drifted from Jisung's tiny waist to his hips, just above his ass that was sat in a place that he didn't want to dwell too much on, though he found that to be extremely difficult with how fidgety Jisung could be. Jisung's hands found purchase against Chenle's chest again, occasionally grasping at his shirt when he felt to overwhelmed, so the entire time really.

After a few more minutes, Chenle leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at Jisung with so much adoration. Jisung felt hot under his stare and missed the feeling of his lips.

"You're so hot, baby." Chenle spoke in his low voice, like he was talking to himself. Jisung whined and leaned in, hoping to find Chenle's lips again, only to be stopped by the feeling of a hand around the base of his neck, not holding him, just applying light pressure, enough to stop him in his tracks and make him roll his hips. The feeling made his head fall back and he accidentally released a moan. He felt embarrassed, but also really, really hot. He heard a growl from below him but before he could look back down, he felt Chenle's hot mouth against his neck, right next to his jugular. His teeth bit into the skin and his mouth sucked around the mark, making Jisung involuntarily move his hips faster against Chenle's torso, looking for any friction whatsoever. Like Chenle was reading his mind, he ground his hips upwards into Jisung's own, right as he bit into the other side of his neck. "Fuck!" Jisung exclaimed, the breath being knocked out of his lungs at the sensation.

"Close already?" Chenle teased. Jisung suddenly realised how weird it was to hear that from his best friend. The best friend he would play games with as a child. the best friend he would talk about girls with in his early teen years. The best friend he would vent to when he was stressed, and who would do the same back. The best friend he had talked about getting a house with in the future, somewhere in a big city. The best friend that was now making him feel so fucking good on the floor of the school toilets when they're both supposed to be in lessons. The best friend he wants to scream the name of for the rest of his life, disturbing the neighbours and almost getting kicked out of several apartments. He's not even mad.

°•°•°•°•°•°•

Them walking out of that toilet block must have been the most comedic moment in either of their lives. To set the scene, they both styled matching red faces and disheveled hair, with Chenle rocking a creased shirt and Jisung showing off his abundance of blossoming purple and red bite marks, trailing all over his jaw and neck and deep down into his collar line and, to top it all off, their non-chalant "we did not just fuck I swear" facial expressions. Glancing up and down the corridor to avoid any other unsuspecting students, they made a bee-line for Chenle's locker where he knew he kept a hoodie to hide Jisung's Vincent Van Gogh "Starry Night"-lookin' neck. The only problem was that it was on the other side of the school.

Why Jisung decided to come instead of waiting, Chenle didn't know. He just thought he was too cute and didn't really want to leave him alone either. But luckily, it was still lesson time, so there was hardly anyone in the halls. So there they were, running through the halls Breakfast Club-style, dodging teachers and the odd student, until they reached Chenle's locker. He made quick work of opening it and grabbing the hoodie, buried underneath about 5 textbooks, 3 folders and a bag of snacks. "You're a mess." Jisung joked.

"Look, do you want the hoodie or not?" Chenle reiterated, his eyes wide as if he were scolding a child.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry!" Jisung giggled, taking the hoodie from Chenle's hands. Chenle jabbed quickly at Jisung's stomach, making him bend over and jump backwards dramatically. He pulled the hoodie over himself, surprised that it was kind of big on him.

"Not as big as you thought you were, huh?" Chenle quirked his eyebrow and Jisung blushed, once again, at his remark. He pulled up the hood and tugged the strings tight around his head, making Chenle coo at him. "You baby." And Jisung swore he could somehow hear the star emojis and "uwu" emoticon in his voice. Chenle walked closer to him, holding his sweater paws and then looking around to make sure no one was there. He then leaned in to quickly steal another kiss, lingering too long for it to be classed as a peck. "What lesson have you got now?" Chenle asked, still holding Jisung's sweater paws, now leaning against the lockers.

"I think Chemistry?" Jisung puffed out his cheeks in thought. Chenle was enamored.

"You okay to go? I can stay with you if you want me to." Chenle reasoned. Jisung's eyes dropped to the ground as he smiled.

"I'm definitely feeling better right now. I might even learn something in Chem." Jisung chuckled.

"Wouldn't that be a miracle." Chenle smiled. The other then pushed his shoulder lightly, making him giggle.

"I'm gonna miss you." Jisung mumbled towards his feet. Chenle leaned in further, smiling.

"That's cheesy and disgusting but you're cute so I'm gonna miss you too." He punctuated his statement with a kiss on the other's lips. Followed by another one. Then another. And another. They were both really lost in each other. And they didn't want to be anything else.

#nct #nctdream #angst #fluff #smut #chenle #zhongchenle #jisung #parkjisung #jisungnct #nct fic #i'm sad #gay #kpop

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the-angst-chronicles-fanworks · 4 years ago

Text

DRACO’S WISH [PT 3/14]

<< | < | > | >>

WORD COUNT: 3985

PAIRING: Drarry

TAGS:

hidden identity

Down and Out Draco Malfoy

Pretty Draco Malfoy

Talented Draco Malfoy

Auror Harry Potter

Smitten Harry Potter

Harry Potter Being an Asshole (just for a while)

Angst

Fluff

Angst with a Happy Ending

Falling In Love

Torture

Skipping Meals/Hunger

Cold Weather

Libraries

Hot Chocolate

SUMMARY: Draco does a good deed and is granted a wish - 12 days of anonymity in a world that hates him CHAPTER SUMMARY: Draco exercises his new found freedom a little

on FF.net

on AO3

STORY:

December 10th , 2007

Draco wakes to the morning sun streaming through his useless curtains and throwing bright spots across his face. He curses thoroughly but, as that does nothing to dissuade it, fumbles his way to a sitting position and opens his eyes to find himself fully clothed on his bed. He’s not under the covers either, so he assumes that he’d exhausted himself with heating charms the night prior and passed out without meaning to.

He sits up with a groan, the beginnings of an exhaustion headache drumming lightly at his temples. A moment bemoaning his lack of tea, before he drags himself over to the sink and pours himself a glass of water.

It’s ice cold, and Draco shudders as he sets the glass back down. His stomach chooses that moment to emit a sharp pang of hunger, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten the day before. His kitchen remains frustratingly devoid of food, though, which means he’ll have to make a grocery run.

Draco likes grocery runs, all things considered – it’s something to do other than wasting away in his apartment, and the store will be heated at least. That thought puts him in a pleasant mood as he takes the few steps across the room to the crate at his bedside, where he picks up his money sack and fishes out the measly remainder of his food budget for this period. Just four Sickles. With a dejected sigh, he drops them into the pocket of his coat, where they clink against something.

Confused, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out considerably more coin than he’s just put in. It takes a moment for it to click, but then the events of yesterday come rushing back.

Draco nearly drops the money in his haste to turn and take another look at the crate – and yes, there are the two extinguishers, fresh from Ugbert’s. Merlin, all that wish-magic babble hadn’t been a dream! It is almost unbelievable, but Draco can’t deny what’s right in front of him.

Taking a shaky breath, he pockets his money again and steps out into the hallway. It’s just past eight in the morning, and he can hear people moving around their apartments through the thin walls. Next-door is still muffled behind the Imperturbable Charm.

The mail room is empty when he enters it. It’s a little room, barely large enough for two people to stand in, and luckily the owl is in. Draco retrieves a parchment form from the fourth bin – a Gringotts currency exchange form – and jots in his name and the amount of money requested. He folds it into an envelope with his coins; normally one would just fill in the form and have the money taken from their Gringotts account, but Draco no longer keeps one. Neither his job nor his housing is on record and are thus paid in Sickles and Galleons, of which he has little to spare. He probably can’t even afford the cost of maintaining an account.

He smooths over the envelope, frowning at the thought. How his father must be turning in his grave to see Draco now – his only son, the heir to the proud Malfoy family. Draco snorts and shakes his head, sealing the envelope and tying it to the owl’s leg. That’s old news. There is no use dwelling in the past.

He drops a Knut into the pouch on the owl’s other leg. “Gringotts, Department of Exchanges please,” he instructs. The owl hoots a soft affirmative, allowing him to gently stroke its head, before it takes off through the open window. Draco smiles wanly. He likes this owl. It’s one of the few living things around that doesn’t look at him like dung underfoot.

Gringotts will take some time – either the goblins dislike him, or else they are simply very busy, he has no way to know – so he returns to his room and strips off his clothes. Shivering against the cold air, he quickly starts up a shower and steps into the hot water with a grateful sigh. He cleans himself quickly, and then, after a moment’s consideration, lathers soap through his hair. His younger self would surely have died at the very idea, and Draco inanely mourns the silky perfection his hair used to be. He shakes himself of the sentiment and dries off roughly with his scratchy towel before dressing in yesterday’s clothes. Another nail for the coffin of his past life.

It’s still cold, and his wet hair makes him even colder, but he has two extinguishers and he’s feeling optimistic, so he tentatively holds his hand to his head and concentrates. The Hot Air Charm is never strong when he manages to cast it, but it’s not as though he wants to blast steaming hot air directly at his head anyhow. Still, he’s more worried trying to dry his hair like this than he is trying to warm his apartment – if his magic escapes his control, he’s at risk of setting his own hair on fire. Just another reason to hate this season as far as he’s concerned. Draco isn’t about to go through the whole of winter without washing his hair, however – even he has limits. So, he risks self-combusting every now and again.

His magic reacts well today, leaping to his command. It tries to expand out of his control, but he clamps down on it firmly and directs it in a warm stream that heats his face and ruffles the fine strands of his hair.

He emerges from his bathroom just as a knocking sounds from his little window. Draco looks over to see a Gringotts owl hovering outside, a little pouch tied to its leg. He hurries over, not wanting the poor creature out in the cold for longer than necessary, and struggles to prise the sticky window open.

The owl swoops in immediately, offering him its leg while darting looks around his shabby little apartment. “Sorry, I don’t have any treats for you,” Draco apologizes as he unties the satchel. The owl hoots disapprovingly, but thankfully it’s too well-trained to peck at him. Raptor beaks are sharp, and he doesn’t fancy having bloodied fingers.

The owl turns its back on him as soon as he has the pouch, flaring its wings and tail in a dramatic display of disdain, that Draco amusedly appreciates, before it flies out the window. He wrestles it shut again, shivering slightly from the cold wind.

Peering into the bag reveals the familiar shape of Muggle paper and coins, and a little card on which the goblins will have written a summary of the exchange. The goblins have yet to miscalculate the exchange, but Draco can’t find it in himself to trust anyone these days so he tugs out the little card and the money, counting to ensure that it’s correct.

Satisfied, he tosses the card into his little bin and tucks the money back into the pouch, pocketing the lot before heading out of the rundown apartment complex. He stops on the street just outside, taking a deep breath before deliberately lowering his hood. He waits there a moment, tensed, but nobody pays him any mind.

Draco is so giddy at the realisation that he laughs out loud. He does attract a few suspicious looks then, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it. For the first time in years, he can walk down the street without fear.

He’s so thrilled that he doesn’t pull his hood back up, even as the wind batters his face and chills his ears, all the way down Knockturn to the dead-end wall that takes him to Muggle London. He practically down the familiar street to the little corner shop.

Draco likes this shop. It’s warm, and nobody looks at him askance here so long as he actually buys something. Even the strange buzzing that always seemed to accompany Muggle lights and the humming from the iceboxes brings a strange comfort.

He makes his way to a familiar isle, picking out a loaf of bread from the many available. Then he turns and surveys the store, pondering what he should spend the extra bit of money he’d left Ugbert’s with yesterday on. It’s not a lot more money, but it’s enough for him to pick up a small square of cheese that he can use for sandwiches and, on a whim, a packet of those flavoured noodles that can be boiled.

He carries the items up to the counter, where a bored-looking teenager grunts “Hi there,” at him. It’s barely anything, but it’s neither aggressive nor flirtatious and Draco craves these small moments of human interaction.

“Hello,” he replies. He maybe sounds a bit too eager to talk to her, because the girl gives him a strange look as she takes his items and begins ringing them up. Draco doesn’t say any more, just watches curiously as she enters his purchases into her glowing till. From somewhere up in the ceiling, a wireless plays a Muggle tune that he doesn’t recognize.

“What do I care if icicles form,” croons a male voice, “I’ve got my love to keep me warm.” It tugs a bit at Draco’s mood. He hates winter, and he hates Christmas.

The girl must catch his frown, as she rolls her eyes and shares a conspiratorial look with him. “Christmas music is the worst right?” She asks. Draco shrugs.

“Christmas is the worst,” he replies.

She glances up at him, a smile twitching at her lips. “Don’t like your in-laws?” She asks. Draco couldn’t think of anything further from the truth, but he somehow doesn’t want to explain quite how pathetic he is to this girl.

“Something like that,” he says instead.

“Ooh, mysterious,” the girl laughs, leaning against the counter. “That’ll be £2.27”. Draco counts out the amount painfully slowly, still not fully used to Muggle currency, while the shopkeep watches with a raised eyebrow. He hands over his money to her, only leaving one coin behind, and she returns another three with a flash of a smile and a “Thanks luv.”

“Have a good day,” he wishes her. She returns the sentiment and Draco heads out back into the rundown Muggle street with the noisy, flimsy Muggle sack hanging from his arm.

He makes his way all the way back to his apartment with his hood still down and the watery winter sunlight lighting his bright hair like a beacon, and nobody says anything to him at all. Once back in his apartment, he draws open the curtain and allows the sun to fall across his bed unimpeded.

Hunger is urging his stomach into revolt by now, so he quickly fixes himself a plain cheese sandwich and sits in his lone chair to eat it. It’s not a lot, but it sates the worst of the pangs in his stomach and he’s not about to use up more food than he needs to.

Finished eating, Draco sits back and contemplates what to do with his evening. He really doesn’t have much to occupy his time in this apartment and, if it weren’t for the terrible cold, it would be the boredom that irritated him most about having time off work. At least at the shop, he has Forsythe’s potion books to keep him occupied in the odd occasion that he runs out of things to do.

In the summer, he sometimes uses his limited spare time to get a wank off, but he can never quite manage to get into the mood when it’s so cold. He’d love to though. Merlin knew how long it had been since he’d gotten off. Maybe with a heating charm…

Draco goes through the familiar motions of wandlessly casting – closing his eyes, focusing, reaching for his magic. But it slips out of his grasp, and the magic fizzles out with his incantation, lost to the cool air of the room. Frowning, he tries a couple more times, but it doesn’t produce even a spark of warmth.

He lets out a disgruntled groan. His magic is restless at the moment, likely a result of having spent too much time around the elektrisity that Muggles used to power their lights. It tends to work magic up, and vice versa.

It’s not much of a problem in small doses, except for when Draco is trying to perform wandless magic untrained and every minor change in his magic is magnified to the extreme. He doesn’t know how to wrangle his magic when it’s like this, which means he has to sit here in the cold until it calms somewhat.

Disheartened, Draco bundles himself as much as he can in his ragged little blanket and climbs into bed. It doesn’t provide much warmth, and he sits there miserably as the shivers keep coming.

He looks longingly at his little noodle packet, wishing he could boil it now and have a warm meal. He’s just eaten though, and he could never eat more so soon. Even if his stomach is still growling hungrily. There’s no guarantee that the stove will turn on anyhow. It’s less likely to work in the cold, and it’s very cold right now. Draco can’t stop himself from trembling under his threadbare blanket.

He needs a distraction, something to keep his mind off it. The only thing he really has is the bloody romance novel, though. Draco reaches a shaking hand for it and flips it open listlessly, not really able to focus on any words through his shivering, but also not needing too. He’s read this book cover to cover countless times, and he knows its contents by heart. What he really needs is a nice new book, and a nice warm place to read it.

Draco stills, mentally slapping himself. Of course, he’s being a bloody idiot! It hasn’t even occurred to him but… nobody recognizes him any longer. He doesn’t have to sit alone in this freezing apartment. He can go anywhere! There is the little issue of him not having any money to contend with, but not every place he can go will need him to buy something.

Draco scrambles out of bed, tripping over his blanket in his haste to scramble out of his apartment and out into Knockturn. He strikes a fast clip up the Alley, anticipation and apprehension swirling in his gut in a stomach-turning mix.

He hasn’t been to Diagon in years, nearly a decade by this point. If Knockturn is unkind to him, Diagon is downright bloodthirsty. Draco doesn’t exactly blame them – it’s not as though he hasn’t brought it on with his own actions – but he also feels perfectly justified in avoiding the place.

It’s with great trepidation that he pauses at the entrance to Diagon. He knows, logically – or illogically, as the case may be – that he won’t be hurt there. That nobody will recognize him if he steps out of Knockturn’s shadow into the bright street of Diagon. It’s one thing to know this, however, and another to believe it, and Draco can’t stop the fear that curls icy fingers up his spine.

But Draco hasn’t come this far to turn back now, so he draws in a steadying breath, steels his nerves, and steps out of Knockturn and onto the snow-covered cobblestone of Diagon Alley. And, in the grand scheme of things, very little changes. He steps from one street to another. But to Draco, the moment feels weighty, monumental. He takes another step, then a third, looking around in delight.

The street is bustling in a way that Knockturn never quite imitates. Families, children, walk and laugh freely. There are no furtive glances here, no shady characters sneering at anyone who gave them too much attention. Vendors hawk in the streets, surrounded by powerful warming charms. The sound of laughter, chatter, life is all around.

Diagon is festooned for the season, magical decorations adorning every sign and lamppost, twinkling from the windows of shops he’d frequented as a child and climbing their storefronts. Draco spends a moment taking in the sigh, a nostalgic ache taking place in his heart at the memories of winters he’d once loved. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply and taking in the familiar smells and sounds.

And then something collides hard with him, knocking him down into the snowy street.

Draco yelps, completely unprepared for the fall, and lands painfully on his arse with an extremely solid body above him. The other person lifts off him a moment later, but the heat of their body doesn’t leave. He opens his eyes and looks up and there, hovering just above him and clad in bright red Auror robes, is none other than Harry Potter.

Draco’s eyes go wide, panic flooding him at the thought of Potter, his rival, finding him in like this – wandless and far too skinny, dressed in tattered, day-old clothes, with his hair sad and limp. He automatically scrabbling backwards to get away from him, cheeks warming in embarrassment… but no light of recognition appears in Potter’s shockingly green eyes.

Instead, those eyes go wide behind his glasses and an embarrassed flush of his own takes Potter’s face. He scrambles to his feet, stuttering out apologies as he reaches out a hand to Draco. Draco hesitates, but Potter doesn’t wait for his acceptance, seizing his wrist and pulling Draco off the ground with beguiling ease.

“Oh my god, are you alright? I’m so sorry!” Says Potter in that voice that has never failed to make Draco shiver. Hearing it now in person is even more spine-tingling. Large, strong hands come up to brush away the snow now covering Draco’s coat and hair, and Draco’s entire body heats with entwined desire and mortification.

“No, it’s perfectly alright, don’t worry about it all,” He babbles embarrassingly, and then wrenches his wrist away from Potter and all but sprints down the Alley. Merlin, but he’s a sodding halfwit. Acting like a first-year Hufflepuff with a crush in front of Harry bloody Potter.

Thankfully the street is busy enough that when Draco glances over his shoulder, he catches no sight of Potter. He slows to a more reasonable place, letting out a relieved sigh. Inappropriate crush aside, it’s best that he not get too close to Potter. Certainly, Potter won’t recognize him on sight alone. But the wish was frustratingly vague, and Draco has closer history with Potter than most. What if he were to say something that caused the other man to recognize him? No, it’s undoubtedly better to stay far, far away.

He continues retreating up the street until he’s about thirty paces away from Gringotts, where he takes an abrupt left into a tiny, cramped side alley that contains a couple of little storefronts. One of them bears an old, chipped sign, with fading paint proclaiming it a library. Draco smiles at the sight of it.

He hadn’t been sure that this place would still be open – it’s been over ten years since his last visit after all – but he’d dearly hoped it was. He has fond memories of this place, of coming hear with his mother while his father had conducted business in Gringotts, and whiling away afternoon surrounded by warm light and the smell of books. When he was older, he and his mother simply sit near one another to read and enjoy one another’s company, but during his younger years she had sat him on her lap and stroked his hair while she’d read to him in her calming voice.

Draco shakes his head, forcing the memory away before his suspiciously wet eyes spill over. He can’t think of his parents – not in public at least, where anyone can see his tears. Instead he pushes his way into the library, a wave of warm air rising to meet him and bringing with it the smell of parchment, leather, and wax.

He lets in a deep breath, allowing the comforting scent to wash over him, thick with memories. He steps further into the library, and the wizened old librarian shelving books nearby notices him and looks up. “Hello there,” she says, her hands pausing in her task. “Can I help you find anything?”

“No, thank you,” Draco replies politely. He has no plans here, just the wish of a warm refuge and something to read to pass the time. He walks through the library, running his eyes along the shelves and taking his time.

The plethora of choice now, after years, is thrilling, and he finds himself in no hurry to decide on reading material. That is, until he is in the learning section and the spartan lettering on the straight-backed spine of an utterly unremarkable book catches his eye. The Fundamentals of Wandless Casting. Draco’s breath catches. Of course. He could spend his anonymity reading for pleasure, but this is a much better use of his time. He’s always loved learning, and this is practically useful as well. Plus, he can continue practicing any theory he learns once he’s home in his apartment.

He lifts the heavy volume from the shelf, carrying it over to a nearby armchair and side-table pair, setting the book down on the side-table before quickly divesting himself of his coat and gloves and draping them over the back of the chair. He settles himself into the armchair, letting out a little groan as even the comfortable plush makes his already sore arse twinge. Stupid Potter, running over innocent passersby in the street.

He thinks back to the incident with a frown, his mind drawing, with loving detail, the solid form that had bowled him over. Merlin, but he’d looked good. Draco’s heard his voice often over the years – Potter is, to this day, a darling of the media and is often featured on the wireless – but he hasn’t seen him since the end of the war. Clearly, time has treated Potter as well as it’s treated Draco badly. He’d already been arresting in school, a wild magnetism to him that had always drawn Draco’s attention – and now he’s grown into it, wearing that pull with an innate ease. Auror work has filled out his frame, his muscles just discernable under his robes and certainly felt when he was barrelling into Draco, and he’s lost the general air of confusion he’d had as a boy. During their brief interaction he’d seemed capable, powerful...

It brings all sorts of longing thoughts to Draco’s mind, and he banishes them furiously. There’s nothing there, not for him– although, perhaps he should go to a bar one of these days while nobody recognizes him, pull a cute somebody he’ll never see again, and get a good dicking down. Merlin knows it’s been long enough. Although – Draco grimaces – it might not be as easy as it once was to turn someone’s head. Draco had been attractive in school, he has no illusion otherwise, but little sleep and less food is not a good look on him.

Slightly disheartened and determined to cast this line of thought from his mind, Draco picks up the textbook from the sidetable and opens it. He kicks off his boots and tucks his feet under him as he settles in. He’s missed this, losing himself in the study and theory of magic – he’d always been a good student, and the pursuit of knowledge is a challenge that he likes.

He spends the rest of the day there, warm and cozy, curled in a squishy armchair in a homey library, pouring over a tome on wandless magic, and it’s the best afternoon he’s had in recent memory. He only leaves when the library closes, walking slowly Diagon and enjoying the way the festive lights sparkle against the night dark.

When he falls asleep that night, he dreams of warm winters past and stunning green eyes.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #writing #draco #harry #angst #fluff #draco's wish

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goyongtrash · 4 years ago

Text

Looking for Juan del Pilar

A long post on what records say about Gregorio del Pilar’s little known relative.

Disclaimer: Any opinions stated in this post are based on my interpretation of the sources I found. If there are more decisive sources, feel free to send them my way. This is also cross-posted as a long Twitter thread, with revisions done on this version.

Very little is known about Juan del Pilar. Even Carlo Cruz, the actor playing Juan, mentioned that material about Goyo’s cousin are lacking.

In the movie Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral, he was first introduced as the cousin who shot at Goyo’s group swimming in the river. According to Vicente Enriquez from the Kalaw biography, while some swimming and shooting did happen, the relative wasn’t named.

“I have never seen Del Pilar nervous except once in Dagupan. The following happened: During one of our inspection trips, some Spanish prisoners had attempted to escape in a boat to bring them to an American ship anchored in Lingayen Bay. As a result of this, Del Pilar ordered that from then on the mouth of the river should be guarded.

One day, Del Pilar, Arellano (who was paymaster), and I decided to take a dip in the river. We told nobody about it. From one side, we heard somebody ordering us to halt. But we paid no heed, and instead we jumped into the water. At this, we heard shots, bullets whizzing near us. Obviously, our own men had mistaken us for the Spanish soldiers who have attempted to escape. I saw Del Pilar very pale for the first time. The official who ordered the volley of shots - who was Del Pilar’s relative - was punished for this imprudence.”

Which first led me to think that Juan may be fictional. I actually asked Direk Jerrold during a Q&A if Juan is fictional or not. To which he replied he’s a real person and pointed us to Simeon Villa’s journals where he was mentioned.

But before we go to Villa’s memoirs, let’s start with the “Juan H. del Pilar” who was listed as the godfather of Goyo’s youngest brother Jacinto (from the Kalaw bio):

On June 30, 1878, between four and five in the morning, Felipa Sempio gave birth to a son who was baptized with the name Jacinto, on the 3rd of July by Father Jose Vera. His godfather was Juan H. del Pilar.

It wasn’t explicitly mentioned but, given the name and date, this “Ninong Juan” was most likely an uncle.

In fact, Marcelo and Fernando (Goyo’s father) actually had a brother named Juan. An 1895 intel about Marcelo’s associates listed him as a lawyer and a stenographer of the tribunal (probably in Bulakan and yes the Spaniards were keeping tabs on them).

Juan del Pilar: about 42 years of age*, married, scribe and third-rate lawyer, is connected with the Tribunal as Secretary.

Brother of Marcelo, co-worker in La Solidaridad and cousin of Luis del Pilar, propagandist of that paper. [...]

In the last months of the term of the previous municipal administration, he was dismissed from the Tribunal by verbal order of the Provincial Government, which was able to produce complete proof of his anti-friar and anti-religious conduct.

In his dealings, he is cunning and shows that he is not only anti-friar but also anti-Spanish. There should be previous information about him.

*GT admin’s note: I don’t think this Juan was just 42 years old during this time. Juan was an older brother of Marcelo and the latter should be 45 years old by 1895.

Indeed Isaac Cruz (in his Goyo biography) lists “Juan H. del Pilar”, alongside other siblings of Marcelo del Pilar, to have joined the Propaganda Movement.

And from the same biography, Cruz actually names this “Tio Juan” as a Captain who served on both revolutions against Spain and America *gasp*

Juan H. del Pilar was a fiery Propagandist and worked with his brother Marcelo during the Propaganda movement. He joined the Revolution against Spain and later against the Americans. He served as a Captain.

So does this mean the movie got it wrong in portraying Juan? Perhaps not. Which now leads to the question: Where did Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral get the idea that this Juan was a younger cousin?

They probably got it from Jose Enriquez, a Tirad survivor and a younger brother of Vicente Enriquez (Jose wasn’t portrayed in the movie). From the Kalaw biography, he said it was him and “Juanchito del Pilar” (Goyo’s cousin) who informed Aguinaldo of Goyo’s death.

“When I heard someone shouting ‘The General is dead!’, I mounted my horse, and escaped. I met Emilio Garcia, Juanchito del Pilar (Gregorio’s cousin) and Inigo de Jesus on the way. Juanchito and I went as far as Cervantes in order to report the incident to Aguinaldo.”

Prior to Tirad, Kalaw already mentioned about a then-Lieutenant Juanchito del Pilar who was enlisted under the Del Pilar Battalion. This means that this Juanchito participated in sieges leading to the Liberation of Bulacan on June 24, 1900. It’s possible he was promoted to a Captain after the liberation.

“But Juanchito can be someone else!” you might say.

This is where Vicente Enriquez’s account comes in. Still from the Kalaw bio, Vicente mentioned a “Captain Juan del Pilar” present in Tirad and was with the company of another captain, Emilio Garcia, who was also mentioned from Jose Enriquez’s account. These two were in charge of constructing trenches.

“While the group was in Angake, Captains Juan H. del Pilar and Emilio Garcia constructed trenches in Tirad utilizitng General de Pilar’s plan.”

“As I reached our trenches above, I found Captains Juan H. del Pilar and Emilio Garcia and some soldiers, who informed me that soldiers in the trenches below had heroically and successfully resisted heavy shelling of the American cavalry.”

Unless there were two Juan del Pilars in Tirad, then I am very inclined to think that “Captain Juan H. del Pilar” and “Juanchito del Pilar” are the same. There is no info on who the father of this cousin was but if there were several Juans in the family, the nickname of “Juanchito” makes sense.

Also, Jose Enriquez’s statement (that it was him and Juanchito who told Aguinaldo about Goyo’s death) is somewhat supported by Simeon Villa’s memoirs. He mentioned there were two officers who informed Aguinaldo on what happened in Tirad.

December 2, 1899: At 5 o’clock in the afternoon the honorable president received a verbal report from two officers coming from Mount Tila*, to the effect that the Americans had taken all our trenches in Tila; that General Pilar had been killed by being shot through the head; that other soldiers had also been killed; and they, the officers, were sure the Americans must be in Angaqui at this very hour. According to the statement of the officers, General Pilar died at 10 o’clock a.m.

*Mount Tirad

And speaking of Simeon Villa’s memoirs he mentioned “Captain Juan del Pilar” several times and so did Telesforo Carrasco (the Spaniard) in his memoirs. For the next parts, I’ll be combining entries from both Villa’s and Carrasco’s memoirs.

At the first part of Villa’s memoirs, he mentioned a Capt. Juan H. del Pilar as part of the Sixth Company of the First Bulacan Battalion.

Do note that even if Juan may not have been explicitly mentioned in some entries, he should’ve had the same arduous and perilous experience as everyone who was with Aguinaldo during his escape.

On December 16, 1899, Villa notes that Aguinaldo called for a council meeting and Juan was part of it. Interestingly, he didn’t seem to have an opinion of his own.

At 6 p.m. the honorable president named the following as members of a council to take place this night, viz: Colonel Sytiar, Señor Barcelona, director of the health department; Villa, sub-inspector of the staff; Majors Jeciel and Gatmaitan, and Capt. Juan H. del Pilar. [...]

Having explained all these things, the honorable president then asked Captain Pilar what opinion he had to express. The latter replied that he had no opinion to express, but that he agreed with the honorable president’s declaration, but Colonel Sytiar answered this, saying that Captain Pilar’s answer was not to the point, as we are all under the honorable president’s orders and ready; what was desired was that the Captain Pilar should freely express his own personal opinion. On hearing this Captain Pilar replied in the very same phrases he had first used.

By February 1900, after a grueling trek, Aguinaldo and his group set up camp somewhere in Isabela. There, they experienced relative peace and have settled into a routine which involved horse racing in the afternoons. And yes, Juan or rather his horse participated in these races.

February 8, 1900: In the second race the horses of Señor Villa. and Captain Pilar were started; Señor V's horse gained from the start and finally, won.

February 9, 1900: The honorable president started out at 9 o'clock in the morning to examine our outposts, being accompanied by his adjutant, Lieutenant Carasco, Senor Villa, subinspector of military hospitals, Captain Pilar, and a squad of cavalry: he returned about 12;30 o'clock, quite satisfied over the good spirits of the soldiers.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon, as customary, two horse races took place. The first one was between the horses of Señors Jeciel and Pilar. It was hotly contested by both horses, but Señor Pilar's horse won by a length.

February 10, 1900: Speaking of our life in this camp, it may be reduced to the following: All awaken, on sound of the bugle, at 5 a. m., and arrange everything in order, so that at any given moment we will not have to preoccupy ourselves with anything but our defense. At 7 o'clock we have breakfast, after which each one gives his attention to the duties assigned him. At 12 o'clock, we take dinner or luncheon. Afterwards we rest a little until 3 or 3.30 o'clock, at which hour the horse racing commences. At 6 o'clock we have supper.

[...] At 4 o'clock the horse races came off, the first one being between the horses of Señors Jeciel and Pilar, in which Senor Jeciel's horse won.

On March 16, 1900 (probably in preparation for Aguinaldo’s birthday), Juan and his soldiers were tasked to look meat and salt. They came back after 3 days, not only with inadequate meat but prisoners as well.

By the order of the honorable president, this morning at 5 o’clock 25 soldiers, under command of officers Del Pilar and Valentin, set out for the Gullayen settlement to secure in said settlement some 20 carabaos to furnish us all meat, and likewise some salt, since for some days we have been eating neither meat nor salt, though we have never been in want of rice, which exists here in abundance.

March 19, 1900: Our soldiers who, on the 16th instant, went to Guilayen settlement came back this afternoon at 2 o’clock, bringing the honorable president one carabao and one [goat]. They had been unable to secure the twenty carabaos, as was their intention, since these were not to be found. They also brought with them as prisoners two Christians, captured by them in the mountains before reaching Guilayen, and suspected of being American spies.

On March 21, 1900, Carrasco talked about Aguinaldo’s birthday preparations. Juan was to deliver a speech.

Our mess hall has been completed; likewise the mess hall for the troops, which is in the shape of a triangle. I have bidden the head of the rancheria to bring me three or four jars of basi, for the fiesta to be celebrated tomorrow, on the occasion of the birthday His Excellency the President. [...]

Speeches to be delivered by Dr. Barcelona, the marques de los camotes, Señor Bautista, Captain Pilar and Sergeant Luis. In response to all this, as finale, the Honorable President thanking everybody.

On Aguinaldo’s birthday, March 22, 1900, both Villa and Carrasco didn’t mention specifically if Juan was able to deliver a speech but the following entries should give you an idea what happened on this day.

Villa: Then, on account of today being the birthday of the invincible chieftain and liberator of the Philippines, all the officers and soldiers who are accompanying him on these mountain journeys have come to congratulate him since yesterday evening at 5:30 o’clock; and 25 soldiers have organized a band of music, using as instruments the bamboos musicong bombong [sic]. Their congratulations were solemn and imposing, because the honorable president, after receiving them affectionately, offered sweetmeats, cigars, and wines to all [...]

Carrasco: After the meal, Dr. Barcelona and other officers spoke [...] After the speeches the National Anthem was played, and then we retired.

Still during Aguinaldo’s birthday. Villa mentioned about the Bulacan Battalion getting emotional because Barcelona reminded them of Gregorio’s death. I think it’s safe to assume Juan became emotional because he was a relative.

The happy meeting broke up at 1:30 o’clock, all the soldiers having gone away satisfied as far as their stomachs were concerned, but not so morally, because Señor Barcelona, in his toast, told them that as Bulacan soldiers they ought to imitate him who was their general, the valiant Gregorio del Pilar, who died on Mount Tirad while defending the person of the honorable president. As that general was greatly beloved by all his soldier (the Bulacan Battalion), these on hearing Señor Barcelona’s expression were reminded of how he had died, and many of them burst into tears.

On April 16, 1900, Carrasco noted that a memorial for Goyo was held. Juan was one of those who read elegies for the fallen general.

As had been agreed on, we held on this day the commemoration in honor of General Gregorio del Pilar. At noon we all gathered in the troops’ mess hall. At the center was the table for the chiefs and officials and at the head of the table was a floral wreath with this inscription: “To the ill-fated General Gregorio H. del Pilar, who died heroically on Mount Tilad during the battle of December 2 last, this offering is dedicated by his brothers and companion in arms.” After the meal, Captain Pilar, Lieutenant Bautista and myself read elegies in honor of the departed general. The Honorable President then pronounced an eloquent oration, after which we all retired to our lodgings.

On May 20, 1900 (or May 21 depending on which journal entry you refer to), Aguinaldo’s group was on the run and had encountered American troops. Some soldiers belonging to the Sixth Company (specifically Lieut. Lucio Valentin), of which Juan was part of, went missing. It is unsure if Juan also went missing during this time.

Villa: The soldiers on the first and second companies of the Bulacan Battalion looked after the safety of the honorable president, and by their bravery prevented the enemy’s advance until he got away. In this fight our casualties were: Second Lieutenant Morales killed, two soldiers wounded, and Lieut. Lucio Valentin of the sixth company and some soldiers of the same missing.

Carrasco (May 21, 1900 in his entry): At around eleven a.m. we moved to the rancheria of Asibanlang, leaving in Sanga an advance guard under the command of Lieutenant Lucio Valentin. At around six p.m. we heard that the enemy was in sight. [...]

Soon after, the firing began where the advance guard of Lieutenant Valentin was; and moments later the firing started in our own line, commanded by Commandant Geronimo Gatmaitan. When the foe saw that all of us on horses were escorting His Excellency the President, they concentrated their fire on us, for which reason the President bade us leave the scene.

On May 22, 1900, Villa noted that the soldiers who went missing last May 20th were reunited with Aguinaldo’s group. However, they were confronted by Americans who didn’t immediately fire at them. They escaped to the woods.

About 12:30 o’clock, on reaching a river near a mountain ridge, we observed a number of armed men on the top of the ridge. Viewed through the glasses they appeared to be wearing black shirts, but when we saw them deploy as skirmishers in our direction we were quite convinced they were our enemies. So we had to come back and abandon our trip to Magapasi. We then turned off to the left to ascend a mountain ridge which we saw, having left the Fifth and Sixth companies to protect the retreat of our honorable president, who before his leaving placed the soldiers in good strategical positions. The honorable president also gave instructions to the captains of the said companies relative to the direction in which they should retreat in order to find him.

After marching for an hour we saw one of our soldiers following us, and calling to us. Then we waited for him. When he arrived he told the honorable president that the soldiers we had seen deploying as skirmishers on the mountain ridge were our soldiers of the First Bulacan Battalion who had separated from us on the night of the 20th. We returned at once. Great was our pleasure on meeting our soldier companion of the rocks. After chatting for an hour we resumed our former direction toward Magapasi. This was 2 p.m.

On the Americans ambushing them:

The honorable president did not know what to do, because in front of us were the 300 Americans at Tabog, forming a cordon; on our left 300 more Americans from Tuao, who were also in cordon, and to our right and rear were the 4,000 (sic) who were pursuing us and who had corralled us among the mountain ridges. How were we to save ourselves? While we were going back along the road we had come, the honorable President, Señors Villa, Barcelona and Pilar were engaging in a discussion as to what direction we should take, and whether we should be able to get through the hostile military lines. Each one was meditating on what should be best. Finally, as there was no time for so much discussion, the honorable president said that it would be best for us to simply hide in the thick woods in those places, and that from then on we would travel no more by day, but only by night, so as to avoid being discovered by the Americans.

The next entry from Villa that explicitly mentions Juan was on July 6, 1900. Juan was part of the council of a trial for a deserter. The deserter was given a death penalty.

There came up a trial in the camp this morning the case of Junior Maj. Geronimo Gatmaitan, a deserter from the escort of the honorable president. [...] In view of these grave offenses the honorable president this morning ordered all the field and line officers in camp to form a council to deliberate as to what penalty ought to be inflicted upon the said major. The council was composed of Maj. Raymundo C. Jeciel, Capts. Juan H. del Pilar and Ildelfonso Villareal, and First Lieut. Tomas Magsarile and Teodoro Dayao, Señor Simeon A. Villa presiding. The unanimously agreed that the penalty should be death.

By late August 1900, a major responsibility was given to Juan. Aguinaldo appointed Juan as military commander/chief of guerrilla of Isabela. Carrasco was put under Juan’s orders. And after two months of spending time in the Tierra Virgen camp, it was decided that Juan and other soldiers would not go with Aguinaldo and operate as a guerrilla unit. Here are the following entries supporting his appointment and the change to guerrilla tactics:

August 20, 1900 (A letter from Emilio Aguinaldo, addressed to the commander of forces coming from llocos): On arriving with your forces in these provinces, you may commence operations by guerrillas in any part of this valley with authority to attack and surprise the enemy without waiting for superior orders, establishing your temporary camps wherever military strategy demands. I inform you that the following are chiefs of guerrillas: of the province of Nueva Vizcaya, Captain Joaquin Velasquez; of Isabela, Captain Juan H. del Pilar; and of Cagayan, Major Carlos Ronquillo, each one of whom has the same authority as that which I now confer upon you, without detriment to the preservation of military discipline between you conformably to orders and good harmony as true brothers and defenders of a common cause, and in case of attack acting in combination, should circumstances require it.

August 20, 1900 (Villa): A report was received from Gamu informing us of the arrival of many Americans at Aparri, and the 8 very large rowboats were en route to this section.

The honorable president, wishing to avoid the attack of the Americans, decided that we should leave here and take the direction for Palanan, carrying only 16 guns, the others to remain in charge of Captains Pilar and Villareal, who stayed behind to engage in a system of guerrilla warfare in this province.

August 21, 1900 (Carrasco): A letter I received from Captain Juan H. del Pilar at seven in the morning declared that he was on his way to the Third Camp on orders of the President. When he arrived there, I presented myself to the President, with whom I had been in conference, and he told me, among other things, that I was to put myself at the orders of Captain del Pilar, who had been told to be at the service of some guerrilla force.

Afterwards we spent a good time jesting with our colleagues in camp; and then I retired, to await the orders to march.

August 25, 1900 (A letter from Emilio Aguinaldo, addressed to the principal chiefs of the Katipunan who command forces in Isabela): Señor Juan H. del Pilar has been appointed the military commander of the province; you as military commander of your pueblo will place yourself under his orders.

August 27, 1900 (Villa): Everything being conveniently prepared, in order to cause a failure of the Americans’ plan to attack, we at 5:30 a.m., abandoned this camp of “Tierra Virgen,” after having lived there peacefully for two months and twenty-one days. Capt. Juan H. del Pilar, chief, and Señors Villareal, Carrasco, Catindig, Subido, Ruis de Leon, and the greater part of the soldiers remained behind in the province to operate as guerrillas.

Despite the news and shift to guerrilla tactics, the following entries from Carrasco show how he and the other soldiers spent nights chatting and jesting in Juan’s quarters before leaving Tierra Virgen.

August 23, 1900: In the afternoon I marched with the company of Lieutenant de Leon to the Third Camp, where I had been summoned. On arriving there, I found all chiefs and officials assembled in conference, which I joined. Afterwards we set to composing a circular, which was the purpose of the conference. We spent the night chatting and jesting in the quarters of Señor Juan H. del Pilar, where also lodge democratically the Messrs. Magsarili, Perfecto, Villareal and Subido. There we stayed to sleep.

August 24, 1900: I have spent the day writing circulars, finishing at six in the evening. Like the night before, we spent this night in the said house and again we had a session of jokes and politics.

From August 28 to September 16, 1900, Juan and his group moved out from Tierra Virgen and carried out operations as a guerrilla unit. Carrasco, for the most part, was ill.

August 28, 1900: On this day we transferred location, establishing a new camp in the same forest but in a more hidden site, where we have spent two nights.

September 5, 1900: On the 28th of last month, Captain Pilar, Captain Villareal, myself and some other officers, along with 56 soldiers, departed from Tierra Virgen to render service as a guerrilla unit. We fixed our area within the boundaries of the town of Echague and from that point we have delivered correspondence to the principal chiefs of the towns of this province, a service of great importance.

September 13, 1900: In the afternoon Captain del Pilar, Lieutenant Luna and myself went to the barrio of Minal-lo for a change of air and to deliver mail for Naguilian. We returned to camp at two o’clock a.m. completely soaked, having been caught by a storm along the way.

September 16, 1900: At sunrise, after breakfast, we resumed the march on foot, because the road is very bad and we cannot bring horses. We had been marching an hour when I was again attacked by fever. Nevertheless I plodded on until we reached a brook where I got my legs wet. Whereupon the confounded fever attacked me so fiercely I could no longer move a step and had to lie down on the ground. On seeing this, Commandant del Pilar ordered me to return to Minaban, since because of me the column could not move ahead. With God’s help, and clinging to the shoulder of my assistant, I hobbled back to Minaban, arriving there at six in the evening.

On September 17, 1900, a still unwell Carrasco learned of what happened during the attack and the subsequent death of Juan. An American war report confirms Juan’s death although listed under a different date.

Carrasco’s entry: The column came from Malumi at around eleven in the morning and from my companions I learned how badly the soldiers had behaved. They refused to attack as we had planned, although the detachment was manned by only twelve Americans, as the soldiers knew. In the combat, we suffered the loss of Commandant del Pilar, who was captured by the enemy. We marched back to camp, where I continued to be with fever.

September 14, 1900 (American war report entry): Corporal Martin, with a detachment of Company H, Sixteenth Infantry, encountered a band of guerrillas under Captain Juan del Pilar, on Palanan road; routed them, killing their captain, wounded 3, captured 1 rifle, 1 revolver, 175 pesos, and important papers. No casualties.

And there you have it. Captain Juan H. del Pilar died at the hands of the Americans and had suffered a similar fate to his famous relative. There is also no info on whether or not his body was recovered. If not, then his remains might still be somewhere in Isabela.

Whether Juan del Pilar is the uncle or cousin, this shows Goyo’s relative had the same level of grit and resilience as him. Although, I still think this Captain del Pilar is a cousin based on age (because Tio Juan would’ve been 50+ years old by 1900).

Sources:

An Acceptable Holocaust: Life and Death of A Boy-General by Teodoro M. Kalaw

General Gregorio H. Del Pilar: Idol of the Revolution by Isaac C. Cruz

A Spaniard in Aguinaldo’s Army: The Military Journal of Telesforo Carrasco Y Perez translated by Nick Joaquin

The Flight and Wanderings of Emilio Aguinaldo, From His Abandonment of Bayambang Until His Capture in Palanan: A Diary by Simeon A. Villa, a Member of His Staff translated by Lieut. J. C. Hixson (Published under The Philippine Insurrection Against the United States: A Compilation of Documents With Notes and Introduction by John R.M. Taylor, Volume V)

Letters of Marcelo H. del Pilar published by the National Historical Institute

Annual Reports of the War Department (of the United States)

#juan del pilar #gregorio del pilar #philippine history #kapitan juan del pilar #this is a very long post #pinaghirapan ko ito mga mamser so sana naman po ay informative para sa inyo #about: Gregorio del Pilar

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zacc-attacc · 4 years ago

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Kissing In The Snow: A Javid Fic

This fic is lowkey shit and I might literally post a new one to apologize for this, but have it anyway!

Final Word Count: 3.2k

Triggers: There’s a bit of an anxiety attack, and a reference to self-harm. I put an * before the attack and bolded the self-harm reference so you stay safe! Love you nerds!

The plan was originally to drive through the night. After all, it was a long-term trip, and we both had a pretty uncanny ability to stay awake. Since we had two drivers, we could switch roles every now and again. But we only made it until a few hours after dark.

I knew there would be snow. After all, especially around New York, there was always snow during late December. But that… That was the type of storm that we hadn’t seen in years. The only time I think I had ever seen that much snow was when my family had traveled to Canada and they were hit with a snow storm. It was magical as a kid in a warm, safe cabin. But now, as an adult, driving on a dark road with the life of my best friend in my hands, it was downright terrifying.

Jack wasn’t fully asleep when I started to consider pulling over. After all, it was only around 10 PM, meaning he was in the dozing part of the night. It was just dark enough that he couldn’t sketch in his physical notebook, and he had put in his earbuds to try and drift off. He had offered to drive, since he was sure I was sleepy from waking up at 5 AM to pack, but I assured him that I was wide awake. And I really was. Slamming three Bang Energy drinks in the span of two hours would do that to a guy.

Snowflakes had started to fall about an hour ago. They were small ones, barely making a dent in our view. But the longer I drove, the bigger they got. Bigger, thicker, and falling faster. I knew that if I was outside, I would be soaked within three seconds.

The wind howled, not for the first time, whistling around the car and nudging it slightly across the icy road in an attempt to push us off. I could feel my anxiety rising as I frantically tried to keep the car on the road while staying calm, but something must have tipped Jack off, because he sat up from where he was curled by the window, stared at the weather, and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Jesus, Dave, it’s crazy out there!”

I felt my hands that I hadn’t even realized were clenching the wheel loosen at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that I had just been talking on and off with him for seven hours, his voice still had a strange habit of making the world seem less terrible. Especially when paired with his eyes, wide, hazel-y green, and worried.

“Yeah,” I said, hearing that my voice was significantly higher than it usually was.

“Should we… Pull over? Find somewhere to stay for the night? We can’t sleep in the car, you’ll freeze-”

“I’ll freeze? Last I checked I’m not the only one who can contract hypothermia,” I cut him off, smiling internally at the ‘Mama bird’ side that was revealing itself (a side that normally only showed in dire situations or when one of their friends were injured).

“Yeah, but you’re a string bean. Nothing to you,” Jack pointed out. This was true, but only when compared to him. As the linebacker for Northwestern University’s football team, he had enough muscle on him to pass for a professional bodybuilder. It was funny that he was a football player while also majoring in art, while compared to the other players with their business and accounting majors. I knew he secretly hated the team, but he was playing football for the scholarship to put him through school, so it was either play or starve. Obviously, he chose to play.

I tried to take a left turn, starting to slope softly almost 50 feet away in order to be able to make the turn. It was still almost too much for the car, causing me to need to break completely to avoid hitting a sign that read Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks, 10 mi.

I felt my entire body tighten as I tried to steer without adding any additional momentum to our car careening across the ice. The tires were locked in place, and still sliding like the world’s most dangerous hockey puck. Jack had stopped talking, and was holding his breath right along with me as we continued to slide. Once we finally stopped, I put my head down on the steering wheel and tried not to cry from a simultaneous feeling of adrenaline and relief.

*********

I was shaking, harder than I had in a long time. I felt Jack’s strong, warm hand on my back, an anchor. He knew how my attacks worked, since he had seen me through middle and high school. They happened a lot less now, but that didn’t make them any better when they did hit, like a freight train of emotion and a loss of control. Where my lungs decided to say “I can’t do this anymore,” and stopped wanting to work. Where my face felt like it was set on fire, and my eyes were watering and I tired to keep everything under control but it all felt so hard and my thoughts were rushing and my heart was pounding in my ears and-

“It’s okay, Davey,” his low voice muttered.

Davey.

That damn nickname. The one only he had ever called me.

He was leaning over the gear stick now to hug me, pinning my arms to my side (I had… Old habits) He was rocking, his hand on my heart as he counted the beats with me, whispering into my ear.

“Five, six, seven, eight…”

**********

Once we got to sixty, I had calmed down a bit. I could breathe now, at least, and I had stopped crying.

“I think I’ll drive us the rest of the way. Is that okay, Dave?” Jack murmured. He was still holding onto me tightly, as if I could break at any moment.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding worn like it always did after an attack.

The moment I felt him pull away, I missed him. After all, he really was quite warm, and there was a winter storm outside. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I opened the car door, and heard Jack do the same behind me. The road was icy, icier than we should have been driving on. Then again, I guess that was kind of the whole reason we were dipping out rather than driving through the night.

As we were walking, I could feel my Timberlands beginning to lose the battle between gravity and friction. I looked up in an attempt to keep my balance, and saw Jack begin to topple. I instinctively reached out my arm to catch him, and we both spun in some strange, ice dance to keep our balance. Finally, Jack slapped the hood of the car to tether us both, hard enough that the alarm started to beep, shattering the night with its high tones.

Jack looked at me, and down at my arm, which I just noticed had somehow snaked around his waist in the struggle. I dropped it quickly, feeling my face heat up despite the snow, smiling awkwardly. Jack just patted my shoulder, and began to chuckle. A soft, not full-blown laugh at the situation. I found myself laughing right along with him.

His laughter had always been contagious.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“This is delux,” Jack grinned, unrolling his travel blanket onto the singular bunk bed. Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks turned out to be a dingy collection of cabins owned by an old woman looking to make a buck and offer hospitality to travelers.

“I’m glad you pulled over, you’ll catch your death in that type of storm,” Joanna said from the doorway, making sure we had enough blankets and brain cells to survive the night. The cabin was small, with a few bunks lining the walls. There was a hot plate on top of a little fridge, but the electricity had been kicked out from the storm, meaning those were both rendered useless. There was an oak door leading to what I guessed was a bathroom, and a light rattling sounding above us for what I assumed was the heating.

“Thank you for having us for free, ma’am,” Jack said for the eight billionth time that night. Joanna just tossed her head back in a light laugh.

“A sweet couple like you, and three days before Christmas no less? It’s no problem, really. I’m all for holiday cheer. Have a good night, you two,” Joanna said, turning and winking behind her shoulder as she walked away. I made eye contact with Jack, and noticed that he was blushing just as much as I was. We waited a few minutes to make sure Joanna was completely gone to continue unpacking.

“How many times has that happened now?” I asked, hanging Jack’s scarf over a vent so it could dry overnight.

“What?” Jack said, turning from making his bunk to look at me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“We had a list of all the times… People thought we were dating. Back in high school, remember?” I smiled slightly at the memory, thinking back to all the time we used to spend with each other in high school.

No one was surprised when we went to the same college, since we had spent so much of high school half joint at the hip. Even our mutual friends were convinced we were secretly dating. It happened enough times that one day, Jack whipped out a notebook and wrote down all the times we could think of being asked. We just kept adding, until college happened and… I honestly don’t know what happened to the notebook.

“Oh, yeah, that! I think Medda tossed it out on accident… But we have our memories, right?” Jack said, regret flashing in his eyes. I just smiled at him sadly.

“Yeah. So, what time should we get going in the morning?”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was probably midnight when I heard a loud, metallic bang.

I sat up sharply, scrambling out of the sheets to make sure that Jack hadn’t hit his head and died from the top bunk.

“Dave, you okay?” Jack asked, glancing at me from his mattress.

“Did you hear that?” I questioned, gesturing to the ceiling where I had heard the bang.

“What?”

“Some sort of bang… I think the heater went out,” I said, suddenly realizing I couldn’t hear the rattle of the heating anymore.

“...Shit. Should we get Joanna?” Jack asked. There was a beat of silence as we made eye contact, and it dawned on me that neither of us wanted to wake up this poor old woman to tell her.

This is the height of being gen z. I thought, realizing how screwed we were.

“It… It’ll probably be fine,” I stammered, sitting back on my bunk. The air was already getting colder, and the wind howled against the cabin.

“...Get over here. You ain’t getting hypothermia on my watch,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to himself. I felt my face heat up for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night.

“A- are you sure that you’re-”

“Oh, can it Jacobs. I don’t need your sister sicced on me because I didn’t do what I could to make sure you survived the night,” Jack pointed out, sounding mildly annoyed. I would’ve been more convinced if I didn’t see that he was also blushing, and had that look… That weird look he got when he was looking at a pretty girl or guy.

This is totally platonic. I reminded myself, climbing the ladder while holding my blankets. Jack nodded at me, tossing all of our blankets over the two of us.

I didn’t think I would be able to sleep with him right there, but something about his body heat and the crashing energy drinks was enough to lull me to sleep…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Davey, you still sleeping?” Jack whispered. My eyes snapped open, and the events of the previous night hit me like a truck. I turned to look at Jack, who was still laying down beside me.

“Yeah,” I croaked. Jack nodded, and I felt him draw away from me.

Wait, away?

It was only then that I realized how close we are.

And that my head had been practically laying on his chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, shifting away from him.

“It’s okay. Warmth, y’know,” Jack said gruffly, sitting up. I scooched away from him and climbed down the ladder, the cold air piercing my skin.

“We should get going soon… I’m sure Medda is ready to have my head for having you out on a night like that,” I pointed out, dashing to the assorted vents that had our assorted winter wear, half-dried.

“She could never, Dave, you know she prefers you,” Jack grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, she adopted you,” I pointed out. “She must’ve liked you enough to want you in her life forever.”

“She once threatened to take away my dessert privileges if we ever stopped talking,” Jack said, deadpan.

“Those brownies are no joke. I’m glad you were able to put up with me,” I chuckled.

“I don’t put up with you, Jacobs,” Jack said, self-deprecation seeping into his words. I stopped re-packing, and crossed the room to talk to him, being sure to drive my point home.

“Neither of us put up with one another, kay?”

“I- damn, Dave, makin’ us have a moment here,” Jack said, red creeping up his face. I stepped back, apologizing under my breath.

“No, no, it’s fine. You always had more of an emotional range then I did,” Jack shrugged, regret tainting his words.

A few minutes later, we were packed. Jack and I both had our jackets, scarves, mittens and hats on.

“I got it,” I said, grabbing the doorknob and pushing.

It didn’t budge. Not even a centimeter. I shook the door, throwing my weight onto it to the best of my ability.

“Let me try,” Jack said, grabbing my hand around the knob. I felt a sharp shock, and felt my heart kick into overdrive, pounding in my ears.

His hands were soft.

Jack was still struggling with the door, jiggling it aggressively.

“Its just a bit… Frozen,” Jack grunted, slamming the door with all of his linebacker strength. The door flew open, a few healthily sized pieces of ice spaying onto the fine bed of snow.

Jack had opened a door to a winter wonderland. Due to its remote location, Joanna’s Nightly Cabins and Bunks was peak stock photo winter.

The trees were frosted with white, like they were some sort of cake, or one of Jack’s drawings. There was a big, sprawling field with a few snow dusted cabins. The main house Joanna lived in was mostly cleared (we assumed she had cleared it herself… somehow), but by far the most shocking part was-

“Oh shit, my car,” Jack said, attempting to run across the lawn to the snow-covered lump that was his vehicle. This didn’t work well, since there was almost several feet of snow covering the ground. He had only made it about 10 feet when he collapsed into the drift, his legs having been unable to fight the snow.

I found myself half-laughing, despite being mildly worried as I helped him up.

“We are so screwed, Davey,” Jack said, his brow furrowing as his Manhattan twang set into his words. That’s how I knew he was really worried- his accent only set in when he was drunk, sick, angry, or stressed.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll call a plow, or a tow… We’ll find some way out of here,” I assured him, holding him by the waist so he wouldn’t fall. He leaned into me, obviously not against me touching him. Well, really it was his coat, but it still felt nice.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Jack asked. I could feel my phone vibrating in my coat pocket, probably the boys and our families asking where we are.

“I dunno… I might as well call now,” I shrugged, pulling out my phone and tapping on Google to find the number.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Thank you… Goodbye,” I said, just about to hang up when a powdery, cold something hit my back. I swiveled around to see none other than Jack, a small arsenal of snowballs beside him.

“Oh, you did not just-”

“I did, Jacobs,” he grinned maniacally. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“You’re on!” I shouted, frantically grabbing snow and packing it into a solid ball. The snow was perfect for snowball fights, just the right texture. And I was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t stick to any yarn on my mittens.

Jack pelted me with a snowball, hitting my shoulder with a solid thwack! I pretended to fall from the shock of the hit, then rolled towards him, tossing a ball at his neck. It hit him slightly above his collar bone, and I heard him laugh evilly as he ran towards me.

“YOU’VE MADE A MISTAKE FROM CHALLENGING ME, DAVEY JACOBS!” He yelled, attempting to grab me. I rolled away, standing above him with my superior five inches, and began to dodge snowballs, left and right while making my own.

“JOKES ON YOU, I LEARNED FROM THE MASTER-- SARAH JACOBS!” I screeched, hitting him in the head with a snowball.

“BUT I WENT AGAINST THE GREAT RACETRACK HIGGINS!” he objected, hitting my left arm.

“WHO LEARNED FROM SARAH JACOBS!” I shot back, hitting his lower thigh.

“AH, BUT YOU ARE NOT HER!” he pointed out, dashing away again in an attempt to confuse me.

“YES, BUT I AM HER BROTHER!” I said, dodging a ball from my right.

“THE MORE WATERED-DOWN VERSION, I SEE!” he shouted, attempting to dodge a ball coming for his torso and failing.

“OHO, YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT!” I yelled, smiling like a fool and running towards him to the best of my ability. He grinned darkly, and I realized my mistake.

I was attempting to tackle a college football player. First string.

Before I could even comprehend how terrible of an idea it was to try and tackle a football player as an English major with limited athletics experience, I was on the ground and-

His lips were on mine.

Too passionately to be accidental.

His hand had somehow made its way to my back, and he was holding me like he had in the night. And… It felt right. More real and right and perfect then I thought it would.

I grabbed his face so I could feel him closer. Though I think a part of me knew it would never feel close enough.

He was doing this thing, I think to keep us warm, where he was rubbing up and down my back to keep the heat. And he kept letting me pull him closer while we just laid there, kissing in the snow.

Kissing in the snow. A romantic concept, one that lovesick teens would only dream of doing. Kissing two days before Christmas. Kissing like it wasn’t the end of the world, like we had all the time in the world. Kissing my best friend. Kissing the man who knew how to get me back when I was drifting.

Kissing in the snow. Because sometimes, snow and too much time wasted away from each other was enough to make a teenage dream come true.

And maybe I was okay with a winter teenage dream.

I was okay with kissing in the snow.

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tripstaysnoided · 4 years ago

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Flow Just Like Water

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Story and writing-related transparency update and my many shames...

The Question on Everyone’s Mind

“Hey you haven’t updated No Stars over Uptown in almost a year...”

Hmm, I hate it when you’re right. (This section has been rewritten ad-nauseam to curb back the bitchiness by the way)

So back in early/mid 2018, the idea was to divorce Uptown from a person who influenced it (and myself) heavily. She was my most important audience member, the closest friend I ever had, and unfortunately someone who used her power to bully, ostracize, and hurt others with my help. I cut contact when the hurt + some self-awareness finally reached me. Apologies were made and I feel like my work will never be done with it, but there was still Uptown.

Between censored comments, entirely recasting Axel’s save, different plot threads, and a load of disclaimers, there was nothing that would scrub her influence from the story. There was no way to cleanly drop everything because of how deep her influence went. It disgusted me to look back at it, and I had to private the blog because I feared what it endorsed, even if just in the past.

I pulled back from that sims writing community. I had its main thread on the Official Forums removed too (I guess if that was a mystery to anyone). It was a surrender that I never wanted to do, but I had it in my mind that if I was gone, then she wouldn’t be there either. Uptown became this cursed item, and as I quietly retired it, I noticed that she went quieter too. Not gone, but enough to make me sleep easier at night and even occasionally say hello to old friends.

And I hope deep in my heart that no one else is getting hurt in my place, but now this is gonna haunt me all day huh!

The two paths forward...

1) Complete Uptown rewrite that I’ve been threatening everyone with all year. While it won’t ever be clean because I can’t undo time, I do have a sound outline for a story that is much more true to my actual vision and how I’ve evolved, with a few necessary boundaries in place that are going to be there for all stories moving forward: no more casting calls and no more collaborative efforts. I am not going to open myself up to this happening again, even if the people have changed.

2) Same as above, but I continue the original Uptown as a favor to loyal readers alongside the rewrite. I would try to put the effort into it that I initially did, but with no promises on an update schedule and no advertising. I did ask myself “is there Patreon but without pledging money, just the private posts function” but it could operate as part of a private forum, a members-only part of a website, etc.

Also readers of the original would be beholden to a rule of “don’t spoil the rewrite for new readers, c’mon guys”. I mean, not really, but it is a good courtesy to extend to people.

Priority on this isn’t high but you at least will see what is!

I will probably make the blog public again either way due to the many broken links on my Tumblr but we’ll see. There are other things to deal with as I shall list!

Where Life’s Been Regardless

Been spending more time with my grandpa every weekend. Life’s pretty good and he’s warming up to my dogs.

Shiny New Webbed Site

Cucumber Fields Forever is a site I own now. We have a full domain, cucumberfieldsforever.com, a blog with one post, and the framework needed to host stories the way I want to and still through WordPress. The functionality of likes, comments, and following should still be the same but you know...I’ll take feedback too...

The main blog still has an undefined purpose though I do have drafts sitting around about:

The maybe/maybe not hoax band that was on the Metal Archives and the history of Funeral Doom Metal.

The curious case of when Sims 4 babies get their genetics and my only collaboration (read: was talking about it with a friend and might quote her if needed, it’s actually a bit of a doozy)

Amazon.com’s fake dried udon noodles, an actual issue by the way.

Things I’m reading! (This’d be a monthly feature if so)

For the sake of unity, I am thinking of solutions for hosting old and shameful content there including Uptown and for the real fans in my followers feed, Eight Cicadas...a world I totally have plans for too (not really). I don’t want them to be front-and-center, and that’s why I mentioned forums/members-only content. I finally have that power! Maybe.

Ooooh but what are the costs? Not too much to handle, that’s what. 😉 (Like really, I don’t need any hand-wringing about this, I can manage my finances)

Project Queue (In Order of Confirmedness)

Outrun the Scythe: have you seen me post out-of-context Sims 3 pictures? Did you want more? Did you hope it was Linda in Custody? If the answers are yes, yes, and “meh, whatever you want”, then you’re in luck.

Outrun the Scythe is a Sims 3-based tale of a young gay man and his zombie grandma, as they are both offered separate roles of being the undying intermediaries between the world of humans and the influence of a race of space daemons. It’s pretty familiar if you’ve been following me pre-Uptown, taking some cues from stories I’ve kept under lock and key like Eight Cicadas, The Chains of Lyra, and the not-so-locked-up Ironstar Immortals (of which Outrun is just the direct sequel to sans any retconning...ah the smell of early 2013 and performative heterosexuality)

Ah, back to my roots.

It’s a hybrid of gameplay, story, and lore about my little race of daemons with a lot of my own idiosyncrasies that I’m not really ashamed of: basing it off a super-polarizing Sims 3 challenge from a site I moderate, using a lot of EA’s pre-made townies and their genes, lots of unnecessary posemaking, stupid references. It’s a comfort to have in my roster.

While the first few chapters are in the middle of revision, I have around six in the queue and will be making this public when I have ten. I’m guessing December then?

Undocumented Black Widow Challenge: I just did this for fun/forum kudos (yes, in fact I have joined many forums), there was going to be a short story but it was quickly becoming something against my code of ethics. I mean, sims die and all. (read: I had to choose between “heterosexual widow” and “widow with some same-sex marriages that still end in tragedy, reinforcing negative stereotypes to the public for the sake of me not getting bored and detached during gameplay” so there were no good choices. Except for her affair with the mailwoman, 10/10) I hope to finish this before October ends and get my medal on Boolprop, I’m pretty far through it all. I might upload the sims involved anyways. This is for TS4.

I mentioned it because it’s keeping me busy. But not for long!

NaNoWriMo 2020: Dipping my toes into that again! It’s not sims-related, just a tale of lesbians, nosy neighbors, a haunted beach house, and some light murder and kidnapping. And I actually got my brother to scout out locations for me this weekend. If there’s any demand, I can share chapters as the rough drafts are finished, especially for the sake of proofreading.

Not saying I’m publishable, but wouldn’t it be nice? Will keep me occupied for much of November.

Untitled “Dear Diary” Challenge: Tired of feeling left out of the fun on the Boolprop forums, their “Dear Diary” challenge was the one that appealed to me the most on first glance. Why? Probably once I found an idea that let it be set in the early/mid-2000′s to begin with and explore some interesting characters through diary entries (which I have mixed feelings on as a literary device but I think that’s just me saying “well I didn’t like Dracula”, yes you get bonus points for writing it like a diary)

Also writing is the one skill I’m good at across multiple games. Wanna hear me bitch about the cooking skill tree in TS4 or riding in TS3? I’ll spare you.

I guess I could have included “spending time on Boolprop with old and new friends” in where my life has been. It’s a nice lil community if also a place with its own idiosyncrasies as well. So it doesn’t feel like I’m promoting another community if/when I make a thread there for Outrun the Scythe, I want to have a couple chapters of this ready to go by Outrun’s release, though it’s not gonna be the highest priority compared to it nor as long because I think I can blast through the gameplay quickly.

This one will be played in TS4 due to it having the easiest writing skill/I dunno variety is the spice of life. And hopefully another December release.

Defunded or Forgotten?: Oh shit I actually released stuff in 2020 and told no one? I do have a “mortifying ordeal of being known” sinking feeling whenever I get a site hit because it’s not my best work (but good enough) and veered sharply into issues I may be over my head in, though I try to be a good noodle with research and listening. Maybe hiding is bad after all.

Being based off a very flawed and incomplete Sims 3 challenge I found in the annals of the Official Forums, there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work just making sense of things. And I’m scared of working on reconstructing the house but I haven’t abandoned the project yet. The story has eight chapters so far and is pretty game-based with some additions here and there. Scared of how long it could be though!

Date for this unknown.

Untitled Sunlit Tides Decadynasty: another year-long abandoned TS3 project with a much stupider reason why. Last update was about Hua getting ready for her wedding, and I wanted to do some poses for a bait-and-switch wedding chapter because to put it mildly, her real one was an absolute disaster.

Blender decided to fuck up its interface again, I got discouraged (this probably does account for some of the Uptown delays too), and when I decided to plow forward, it was for other projects instead.

Meanwhile I played all the way to Gen 5′s teenhood and the only thing stopping me is time (it takes almost 30 minutes to load the file right now, though they’ll be looking at moving towns in a couple gens) and maybe fear of the Logic skill.

Date for this also unknown but it’s easy to pump out updates once I’m in the groove for it. My third heir had a difficult life so maybe I’m just trying to bury it.

Also I just noticed the view count there was really good and probably because I linked it here on Tumblr last year. Thank you so much guys. I can’t really fret over views on Carl’s forum these days thanks to the years-long death spiral pretty much every forum anywhere has been riding on. But it’s a nice surprise. And it’s an alright little challenge recap to read during your lunch break or whatever.

The Wawas

I figured I’d end on the real news everyone wants! Both the chihuahuas are a year and a half now and reached their adult size around a year ago. For the most part, they are happy and healthy dogs.

#state of the uwunion #long post

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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The Pandemic in Pop Culture Trends

https://ift.tt/32wrfZT

The first year of the COVID-19 pandemic was both a universal and incredibly personal experience. While not everyone’s life in the first year of the pandemic looked the same, there have been some common joys, struggles, and tragedies. And there have been stories that have helped get us through the first year of pandemic. The global COVID-19 pandemic is not over, but it has hopefully reached a turning point. Multiple vaccines protecting against the worst of the virus have been developed and have begun to be (unevenly) distributed around the world, with Israel, the U.K., Chile, and the U.S. currently with the greatest percentages of their populations having received at least one dose. As we hopefully move into a less deadly phase of the pandemic, we’re taking a moment to look back at the TV series, games, movies, and other pop culture moments that brought comfort, distraction, critique, and catharsis for many in the pandemic’s first year, as well as some of the major trends and news stories that shaped the industry itself between March 2020 and February 2021.

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March 2020

NBA To Suspend Season Following Tonight's Games pic.twitter.com/2PTx2fkLlW

— NBA (@NBA) March 12, 2020

The NBA Suspends the Season (March 11th)

Many use the NBA’s March 11th announcement that the 2019-2020 season would be suspended until further notice as an unofficial start of the COVID-19 pandemic in the United States. The season would continue four months later in the “NBA Bubble,” but no one could know what the future would look like, only that things were indeed very serious for the billions-dollar professional basketball and media industry to shut down.

Everyone Watches Contagion

Though Steven Soderbergh’s pandemic thriller came out in 2011, Contagion jumped from Warner Bros.’ 270th most digitally rented movie in December 2019 to their second most rented one in February, and that trend would only continue into March. As the pandemic continued, we would see audiences turning towards more “escapist” fare, but, in the early days of this international crisis, people turned towards this matter-of-fact, fictional imagining of how a global pandemic might play out to help process their new and frightening reality.

Movie Theaters Essentially Go Dark

In addition to the immense loss of human life the COVID-19 pandemic has caused, there has also been an economic cost that will no doubt continue to impact human health and livelihood in the coming years. On March 17th, the movie theater chains Regal and AMC announced their temporary closures, an early sign of just how bad the pandemic would be for the movie theater business.

Movies in Theaters Begin Going to VOD

With movie theaters closed, studios needed to get creative about how best to distribute their movies still “in theaters.” Universal Pictures was the first to make the decision to move its new releases to a video on-demand model, bringing The Invisible Man, The Hunt, and Emma to VOD on March 20th.

Animal Crossing: New Horizons is Released (March 20th)

On March 20th, Nintendo released Animal Crossing: New Horizons for Nintendo Switch, allowing players (most of whom where stuck at home) to digitally move to an island and nurture their own community. The fifth game in the Animal Crossing series, New Horizons would go on to major commercial success. It broke the console game record for most digital units sold in a single month, became the 15th best-selling video game in history, and the second best-selling game of all time in Japan. It was also the most blogged-about subject on Tumblr in 2020!

Tiger King Drops on Netflix (March 20th)

Netflix remains the largest streaming service worldwide, with over 200 million global subscribers and roughly 74 million of those subscribers in the U.S. Because of this, when a Netflix Original becomes a hit, it usually becomes a major part of online discourse, especially in the United States. This was the case for Tiger King, the true crime (and truly wild) documentary series that dropped on Netflix on March 20th. With most watchers stuck at home, the online discourse around the show felt even more intense than usual. For a few weeks, you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a Tiger King meme.

April 2020

Quibi Launches (April 6)

While not necessarily pandemic-specific (did Quibi ever really stand a chance?), 2020 saw the launch (April 6th) and death (December 1st) of Quibi, Jeffrey Katzenberg’s short-form streaming platform that squandered $1.75 billion in investment capital and star power like Sophie Turner, Kiefer Sutherland, Idris Elba, Chrissy Teigen, Karlie Kloss, and Laura Dern before bowing out in December.

Trolls World Tour Becomes First Movie to Break Theatrical Window (April 10)

Remember when it was radical for a movie to break its theatrical window? Yeah, that was in April, when many media professionals were shocked with Universal’s decision to release Trolls World Tour, the computer animated musical comedy sequel to 2016’s Trolls, as both a limited theatrical release and via video on demand services. The move led AMC Theatres to temporarily announce that they would no longer be distributing Universal films, but the two companies quickly came to an agreement shortly after.

Extraction was a Thing (April 24)

Honestly, every week in 2020 felt like its own lifetime. Remember when Extraction, the Chris Hemsworth-helmed action-thriller, became the most watched original film in Netflix’s history? Directed by Sam Hargrave and written by MCU vet Joe Russo, the film follows a black ops mercenary who must rescue the kidnapped son of an Indian drug lord in Bangladesh. As self-reported by Netflix, the movie was watched by 99 million households in its first month of release.

May 2020

TikTok Pops

TikTok was already firmly a thing heading into 2020, but the pandemic was when more people found it—especially the olds… by which I mean millennials. In October 2019, TikTok had almost 40 million U.S. users (and 507 million global users in December 2019). By June 2020, that number was at almost 92 million in the U.S. (and 689 million globally by July 2020). This was part of a larger trend over the course of the pandemic that saw people spending more time on their mobile devics than ever before: According to a report from mobile app intelligence agency App Annie (via Social Media Today), by the end of 2020, Americans spent more time on TikTok than they did on Facebook, and the average American now spends more time per day on their mobile device (4 hours) than they do watching TV (3.7 hours).

Avatar: The Last Airbender is Released on Netflix (May 15th)

In many ways, the pandemic has been an accelerant of global processes, and this applies to pop culture as well. While we were already seeing the rise in more foreign-language TV, including anime, and the return to some major nostalgic properties due to broader and easier accessibility because of platforms like Netflix, the pandemic really ramped that process up. When all three seasons of Avatar: The Last Airbender became available on Netflix in May, the American animated TV series that originally aired on Nickelodeon from 2005 to 2008, was discovered or re-discovered by millions of viewers, becoming one of the top Tumblr fandoms of 2020. It was indicative of a larger trend of old shows becoming new again through release on major global streaming platforms.

Avatar: The Last Airbender – What Can We Expect From the New Avatar Studios?

By Shamus Kelley

Avatar: The Last Airbender Co-Creators Exit Netflix Live-Action Series

By Shamus Kelley

June 2020

Buffy Lands on All4 (June 1st)

In a year where what’s old was necessarily new again, all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer came to UK streaming platform All4, and were broadcast on E4 every weeknight at 11pm. Elsewhere in the UK streaming market, the BBC iPlayer saw its best-ever quarter from April to June with 1.6 billion requests, an increase of 59% on the same quarter last year (according to a BBC press release).

Staged Premieres (June 10th)

As it became apparent that TV and film production would not be going back to normal anytime soon, many creators got, well, creative and began making things in lockdown. One of the best and most high-profile examples was BBC’s Staged, in which David Tennant and Michael Sheen play fictionalized versions of themselves, trying to rehearse a performance of Six Characters in Search of an Author via video chat, alongside director Simon Evans. The low-budget, high-charisma series is filmed in the actors’ real-life homes but, unlike some celebrity efforts during the pandemic (see March), strikes the right tonal note in relation to its subjects’ privilege.

July 2020

Ray Fisher Speaks Up About Alleged Abuse on the Justice League Set (July 1st)

Actor Ray Fisher raised his voice on July 1st in a tweet, calling out director Joss Whedon for alleged abuse on the Justice League set, and WB execs Geoff Johns and Jon Berg for “enabling” that alleged behavior.

Joss Wheadon’s on-set treatment of the cast and crew of Justice League was gross, abusive, unprofessional, and completely unacceptable. He was enabled, in many ways, by Geoff Johns and Jon Berg. Accountability>Entertainment

— Ray Fisher (@ray8fisher) July 1, 2020

Later, in December, Fisher would add WB exec Walter Hamada’s name to that list, following a December 11th announcement by WarnerMedia that their investigation connected to Justice League “has concluded and remedial action has been taken.”

Hamilton Blows Us All Away (July 4th)

One of the deepest cultural cuts during lockdown was the necessary elimination of live, in-person theater, which is probably one of the reasons why Hamilton, the Pulitzer Prize-winning stage musical that originally came to Broadway in 2015, made such a splash when it became available in its filmed format via Disney+. Even without a pandemic, Hamilton (and all Broadway theater) is only accessible to a select group of people, making the addition of the pop culture phenomenon in a more accessible form so very important.

From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Movies

Hamilton: Thomas Jefferson Controversy Explained

By David Crow

Host Becomes the Most Zeitgesty Movie of 2020 (July 30th)

Another particularly impressive entry into the “filmed from lockdown” genre that sprouted up during the first year of the pandemic was British found footage horror film Host. Written and made over 12 weeks in a pandemic and based around a haunted Zoom call, few pandemic-made stories managed to nail the balance between both frighteningly topical and escapist quite so well.

The NBA Bubble Begins

Professional sports went into their bubbles, aka tightly controlled settings in which pro sports players live, practice, and play their respective seasons—to varying degrees of success. The NBA’s Disney World bubble went into effect on July 22nd for exhibition scrimmages, before launching into the final eight games of its regular 2019-2020 season and then the 2020 NBA playoffs. Twenty-two of the NBA’s 30 teams were invited to participate and ended the bubble in October with no recorded cases of COVID-19 amongst its participating players. The MLB bubble was… less successful.

SDCC @Home: WTF Was That? (July 22)

San Diego Comic-Con is one of the most important and lucrative pop culture events of the year, bringing hundreds of thousands of people into downtown San Diego to celebrate and discuss some of the largest franchises in the world. SDCC was one of the many in-person conventions that attempted to transfer its programming online in 2020 and… it didn’t really work. Part of the fun of Comic-Con is in the excitement of the crowd and the exclusivity of the events. (Though not on Thanksgiving, thank you very much.) There is nothing quite like getting to be part of a major Hall H announcement, and watching via video chat is just not the same.

August 2020

Tenet Comes Out in the UK (August 26th)

In what was largely a year without theatrical cinema in the U.S. and the U.K., a brief respite in COVID-19 cases and therefore lockdown meant a proper theatrical release for Christopher Nolan’s latest in August 2020. Sci-fi blockbuster Tenet hit U.K. theatres on August 26th, bringing in $5.3 million domestically in its first week of release and marking the first major studio release since the pandemic began.

American Sports Leagues Go on Strike to Protest Jacob Blake Shooting

Many professional sports in the U.S. came to a temporary halt when some players and teams refused to take the field or court following the police shooting of Jacob Blake, a 29-year-old Black American who was shot in the back and paralyzed by a police officer in front of his sons on August 23rd in Kenosha, Wisconsin. The incident re-ignited ongoing protests over racism and police brutality, with which many players and teams stood in solidarity. The NBA, WNBA, MLB, and MLS all postponed games as players protested Jacob Blake’s shooting.

Chadwick Boseman Passes Away (August 28th)

In a devastating loss to American culture, Chadwick Boseman, the star of Black Panther and many other films, passed away due to complications from colon cancer, a condition with which he had been living and working since a 2016 diagnosis. Boseman was one of the most successful Black actors and creators working today.

“He … knew that his voice was now strong and people were listening and paying attention,” wrote Kelley L. Carter in The Undefeated. “And he knew that even as this moment was victorious, Hollywood still needed to be called to task on the things that make this industry problematic, even as it was in the infant phases of creating a groundbreaking blockbuster with a mostly Black cast.”

September 2020

Tenet Flops in the U.S., Hollywood Abandons Ship for Fall 2020 (September 3)

While Tenet may have been a hit in the U.K., the Nolan blockbuster flopped upon its release in the U.S., where many theaters remained closed or empty through the summer and fall. The film would make around $58 million in the U.S. and Canada, prompting Hollywood studios to further push back major releases slated for the fall.

Mulan Becomes First Disney “Premier Access” Release (Sept. 4)

After several pandemic-caused release delays, Disney’s much-anticipated, live-action adaptation of Mulan became the first “Premier Access” release for Disney+, causing a bit of a stir. In the U.S. and in some other markets, Disney forwent releasing Mulan in theaters, instead offering a “Premier Access” window on Disney+ that viewers could access for an additional fee of $29.99. While the film received middling reviews from western critics, it was not received well in China. Additionally, a #BoycottMulan movement, which started out as a response to social media comments star Liu Yifei made in support of the Hong Kong police in their (sometimes violent) suppression of pro-democracy protestors, gained some traction in the lead up to the release.

Movies

How Mulan Maintains The Animated Film’s Queerness

By Natalie Zutter

Movies

Mulan: Disney Plus Grosses Exceed $200 Million? (Report)

By David Crow

I’m Thinking of Ending Things Makes People Go “Whaaa?” (Sept. 4)

As our Rosie Fletcher wrote in the “Ending Explained” for I’m Thinking of Ending Things: “[this story is] a movie, and a book, which really requires you to watch/read twice to actually fully understand.” It’s a gloriously confusing movie, and many in September dove right into the mystery chiller adapted by Charlie Kaufman from a novel by Iain Reid. As Fletcher put in her review, the film is “a perfect storm of philosophy, ambiguity and wankery.” What’s not to love?

October 2020

Trial of the Chicago 7 Debuts on Netflix (Oct. 16)

However you may feel about Aaron Sorkin, the man knows how to make a taut political drama. Trial of the Chicago 7 is a dramatic retelling of (as it says on the tin) the 1969-70 trial of the Chicago Seven, a group of anti–Vietnam War protesters charged with conspiracy and crossing state lines with the intention of inciting riots at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. The movie has an all-star cast of dudes, and is both written and directed by Sorkin. It made many critics’ best-of-the-year lists and made a cultural splash when it dropped on Netflix in October, after a summer of American and global protests ignited by the killing of George Floyd and other Black Americans.

Borat 2 Makes (a Bigger) Fool Out of Rudy Giulilani (October 23rd)

Rarely do the paths of pop culture and politics so explicitly intersect as they did in Borat 2. The mockumentary comedy sequel came out in October, in the long, plateau-ed height of the lead up to the presidential election, and featured a scene in which Republican politician Rudy Giuliani puts his hand into his trousers in front of actress Maria Bakalova, who is impersonating a conservative journalist. While Giuliani attempted to spin the event in both the lead up to and following the release of the film on Amazon Prime, Sacha Baron Cohen told Good Morning America in an interview after the film’s release: “It is what it is. He did what he did.”

Movies

Maria Bakalova is Ready to Do Borat 3 in ‘Five Minutes’

By David Crow

Movies

Borat 2: Sacha Baron Cohen Reveals Dangerous Deleted Scene

By David Crow

The Queen’s Gambit Turns Everyone into a Chess Player (Oct. 23)

Odds are that, in October 2020, you either knew someone or were someone who watched The Queen’s Gambit and then fell hard into the world of chess. The Netflix period miniseries tracks the highs and lows of fictional chess prodigy Beth Harmon (the brilliant Anya Taylor-Joy), from her upbringing in a Kentucky orphanage in the 1950s to her time at the top of the competitive chess world in the 1960s. In its first month of release, The Queen’s Gambit became Netflix’s most-watched scripted miniseries, and sent chess set sales soaring—yet another sign of just how commercially and culturally powerful Netflix has become.

November 2020

PlayStation 5 Alleges Launches, But No One Can Get Them (Nov. 12)

Even if you aren’t a gamer, you probably heard about the release of the PlayStation 5. Though the PS5 technically became available in Australia, Japan, New Zealand, North America, Singapore, and South Korea on November 12th (and worldwide a week later), the limited supply of the console made it almost impossible to find.

As Matthew Byrd wrote in his November article on the subject: “We know that the initial PS5 shortage can at least partially be attributed to a shortage of the console’s chips (as well as distribution and manufacturing problems caused by the complications related to the COVID-19 pandemic), but as we’re already seeing in Europe where some who pre-ordered a PS5 were warned they may not receive their console until 2021, Sony faces some notable additional issues moving forward.”

This is partially a story of supply and demand, and the growth of gaming in general. According to a report by market researcher SuperData (via Venture Beat), the game industry grew 12% (to $139.9 billion) in 2020, with console games revenues up 28% from 2019. While growth is expected to be slower in 2021, as fewer people will hopefully be stuck at home, more people than ever are gtting their story fix in the world of gaming.

Games

PlayStation Bets on Big Games as Game Pass Slowly Wins a Console War

By Matthew Byrd

Games

Why PlayStation Store Closing on PS3 Should Matter to You

By Matthew Byrd

December 2020

WB Announces HBO Max Release Hybrid Model (Dec. 3)

In a move that seems to be paying off, in December, Warner Bros. announced that it would be moving to a release hybrid model through 2021, putting its entire 2021 film slate on HBO Max. As David Crow explained in our film section: “The move will put all 17 of WB’s scheduled 2021 films on a ‘hybrid’ model where films will premiere on HBO Max the same day as their theatrical release in the U.S. Technically speaking, the films will still be playing in theaters, particularly in international markets without HBO Max as a streaming option, but for the first (and most lucrative) month of their release, they’ll also be available on WarnerMedia’s streamer.”

People Actually Get to Play Cyberpunk 2077, Immediately Realize It’s Broken (Dec. 10)

Hooboy, Cyberpunk 2077. In December, after literal years of anticipation, CD Projekt released action RPG video game Cyberpunk 2077 to disastrous results. While the narrative and design of the game is ambitious and has its rewards, the rollout was plagued by performance issues (particularly in the console versions) that led to player backlash and actual lawsuits.

Games

Cyberpunk 2077 Lawsuits Explained

By Matthew Byrd

Games

Cyberpunk 2077 Roadmap Proves the Game Should Have Been Delayed to 2021

By Matthew Byrd

The Mandalorian Finale Breaks the Internet (Dec. 18)

Um, spoilers.

The second season of The Mandalorian may not have technically been the most-watched series of 2020, but it certainly felt like the most-talked-about, proving that, even in the era of streaming, there’s still such a thing as appointment television. This all came to a culmination with The Mandalorian Season 2 finale, “The Rescue,” which featured an appearance from Luke Skywalker himself.

Could Durge’s Star Wars Return Lead to a Role in The Mandalorian or Book of Boba Fett?

By Joseph Baxter

How The Mandalorian Challenges Star Wars’ History of Bad Dads

By Lacy Baugher

Wonder Woman 1984 Premieres (Dec. 25)

Wonder Woman 1984 dropped on Christmas Day in the United States, and quickly became the most-watched straight-to-streaming title of 2020 (knocking Disney+’s Hamilton out of the top spot), despite its middling reviews. In the U.S., it would be the first of WB’s “hybrid model” releases, getting a simultaneous release in theaters as well as on HBO Max.

Movies

Wonder Woman 1984 Star Connie Nielsen Defends Patty Jenkins’ Vision

By Don Kaye

Movies

Does Zack Snyder’s Justice League Set Up Wonder Woman 3?

By David Crow

Bridgerton Gets Saucy (Dec. 25)

Bridgerton, Netflix’s deliciously addicting period romance based on the Julia Quinn novels, also dropped on Christmas Day, and went on to become the streamer’s most watched series ever, reaching #1 in 76 countries. The Shondaland produced drama made leading man Regé-Jean Page a global star, so much so that the announcement that he would not be returning for Season 2 (as each season focuses on a different romantic pairing featuring a member of the Bridgerton family) into a bit of a meltdown. Bridgerton has already secured another three seasons—a post-Season 1 announcement that is unprecedented for a Netflix original.

Why Bridgerton Had to Let Regé-Jean Page Go

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Will Bridgerton Become the Next Game of Thrones?

By Kayti Burt

Soul Brings on the Feels (Dec. 25)

Called Pixar’s “most ambitious movie in years” by Den of Geek film editor David Crow, Soul was another Christmas release that brought solace to people stuck at home, many without their families, for the holidays. Directed by Pixar vet Pete Docter (Up, Monsters, Inc., Inside Out) and co-directed by Kemp Powers (One Night in Miami, Star Trek: Discovery), the film follows middle school music teacher and pianist Joe Gardner as he seeks to reunite his soul and his body after they are accidentally separated, just before his big break as a jazz musician.

January 2021

The Little Things Kicks Off WB’s 2021 Film Slate on Streaming (Jan. 29)

Fans of crime thriller and/or Denzel Washington and Rami Malek flock to HBO Max and theaters for the hybrid release of The Little Things, the first of WB’s planned 2021 slate.

Movies

The Little Things is Better Than a Seven Copycat

By Don Kaye

Movies

The Little Things and the Mystery of Denzel Washington’s Character Explained

By David Crow

February 2021

WandaVision Ensnares Us

Stop hogging the zeitgeist, Marvel!

In February, Disney+ released its first MCU show, WandaVision, and it broke the internet. The miniseries, created by Jac Schaeffer and starring Elizabeth Olsen as Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, wowed audiences with its clever use of the sitcom format and superhero tropes to tell a story about grief that, for all of its fantastical elements, was oh so relatable.

How WandaVision’s Doctor Strange 2 Connection Evolved

By Joseph Baxter

WandaVision: The Unanswered Questions From the Marvel Series

By Gavin Jasper

Judas and the Black Messiah Debuts (Feb. 12)

Daniel Kaluuya and Lakith Stanfield lead an all-star cast in this 1960s period piece that follows the real life story of Black Panther Party chairman Fred Hampton, who was the victim of a targeted assassination by the FBI. In a year that saw an increased mainstream awareness of Black trauma, the Oscar-nominated Judas and the Black Messiah shone a cinematic light on yet another state-led historical injustice against Black Americans.

Charisma Carpenter Speaks Her Truth

In February, actress Charisma Carpenter came forward with allegations about Joss Whedon’s alleged abuses of power during her time on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, inspired by Ray Fisher’s own efforts to seek justice and systemic reform for Whedon’s alleged behavior on Justice League.

My truth. #IStandWithRayFisher pic.twitter.com/eNjYcJ6zwP

— charisma carpenter (@AllCharisma) February 10, 2021

— Ray Fisher (@ray8fisher) July 1, 2020

Pokemania Returns

Many older millennials have spent their time during quarantine reconnecting with their childhood faves. This culminates with a massive renewed interest in Pokemon cards to the point where McDonald’s Happy Meals with Pokemon cards as toys sell out instantly.

Sponsored

Why Pokémon Has Endured For 25 Years

By Alec Bojalad

Did we miss anything? What have been the stories and pop culture trends that have helped get you through the pandemic so far? Let us know in the comments below.

The post The Pandemic in Pop Culture Trends appeared first on Den of Geek.

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creepingsharia · 5 years ago

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“Kidnapped, Raped, Humiliated, and Forced to Convert to Islam”: Muslim Persecution of Christians, December 2019

Martyred on Christmas Day: Islamic State in Nigeria videotaped the slaughter of 11 Christians

by Raymond Ibrahim

The following are some of the abuses Muslims inflicted on Christians throughout the month of December, 2019; they are categorized by theme:

The Slaughter of Christians

Nigeria: The Islamic State in West Africa Province released a video of the execution of 11 Christian aid workers on the day after Christmas. The brief video shows one Christian being shot followed by 10 others being beheaded by masked jihadis standing behind the tied hostages. “This message is to the Christians in the world,” a man’s voice narrates over the footage. “Those who you see in front of us are Christians, and we will shed their blood as revenge for the two dignified sheikhs, the caliph of the Muslims, and the spokesman for the Islamic State [who were killed by the U.S.]” Before being slaughtered, the captives reportedly made pleas, including to Nigeria president Muhammadu Buhari, to save them. Buhari, who has himself been accused of turning a blind eye to the persecution of Christians in Nigeria—and even abetting it—condemned the executions, adding that “these barbaric killers don’t represent Islam.”

A separate report cited by Fox News found that more than 6,000 Christians have been slaughtered by Islamic terrorists since 2015—a thousand of them in just 2019. According to the report,

They attack rural villages, force villagers off their lands and settle in their place — a strategy that is epitomized by the phrase: “Your land or your blood.” In every village, the message from local people is the same: “Please, please help us! The Fulani are coming. We are not safe in our own homes.”

The nomadic Fulani herdsmen “seek to replace diversity and difference with an Islamist ideology which is imposed with violence on those who refuse to comply,” Baroness Caroline Cox commented. “It is—according to the Nigerian House of Representatives—genocide. Something has to change—urgently. For the longer we tolerate these massacres, the more we embolden the perpetrators. We give them a ‘green light’ to carry on killing.”

Kenya: After armed Muslim militants stopped and stormed a passenger bus near the Somali border on December 6, they proceeded to separate the 56 passengers into Muslim and Christian groups—reportedly by asking them to recite the Islamic shahada (creed); 11 of those who would or could not due to their Christian faith, were paraded out of the bus. “They were told to lie on the ground face down and were shot at close range,” one report said. “The militants then ordered the bus to leave with the rest of the passengers.” The attackers apparently also relied on whether a passenger appeared to be local (meaning likely Muslim) or not (meaning likely Christian). “The majority of the population in this region is Muslim,” Rev. Nicholas Mutua, a Catholic priest, explained. “The non-locals had come from other parts of the country and they would definitely have been Christians.” “One of the Muslim men gave me Somali attire, and when the separation was being done I went to the side of the Muslims, and immediately we were told to get [back] into the bus,” a survivor recalled. “As the locals were getting back into the bus, the non-locals who were left behind were fired upon with gunshots.” Separating Muslims from Christians before slaughtering the latter has long been the modus operandi of Islamic terror groups. In the Garissa University College massacre of 2015, when militants slaughtered nearly 150 people, a survivor explained how the Islamic terrorists burst into a Christian service, seized worshippers, and then “proceeded to the hostels, shooting anybody they came across except their fellows, the Muslims.” Another witness said the gunmen were opening doors and inquiring if the people inside were Muslims or Christians: “If you were a Christian you were shot on the spot. With each blast of the gun I thought I was going to die.”

Burkina Faso: On Sunday, December 1, Islamic terrorists stormed a church during service and opened fire; 14 worshippers were killed and many injured. The gunmen fled on motorbikes following the massacre. Discussing this incident, a separate report offers statistics:

Burkina Faso’s Christian minority used to live in relative peace. Now the violence and persecution of Christians has quadrupled in the last two years and is expected to increase by [another] 60%… Radical Islamic groups such as the Islamic State in the Greater Sahara and other local insurgents have pushed nearly half a million people from their homes. Sunday’s attack comes after a Catholic priest was executed in February, five Christians were killed during an attack on a Church service in April, and 13 Christians were killed in a Church arson attack and procession in May. Most recently was on October 26 when unknown gunmen stormed a Christian village and reportedly killed 12 and abducted several others.

Cameroon: In just the first half of December, Islamic militants “began an onslaught of attacks on Cameroonian Christians that left 7 dead and 21 captive to the terrorist group.” According to the report:

On December 1, gunmen opened fire at a funeral in Mayo Sava district, in the far north of Cameroon. Four were killed and three were wounded. In another attack on the same day, militants ransacked homes and looted them of food and basic necessities. The next night, three more people were murdered and another was injured in another looting of Zangola village. A few days later on December 5, militants methodically searched for children and young adults and kidnapped them. In the middle of the night they came and stole nine girls and twelve boys from their homes, ranging from 12 to 21 years old. Four of the captives managed to escape. While en-route to their base, the Boko Haram militants attacked Tahert village where one girl was injured and a motorbike was stolen. Nearly 300 people have been killed in Cameroon in 2019 by Islamic militants, with 80% being civilians.

Pakistan: Naveed Masih, a 24-year-old Christian man was found hanging from a tree, dead, because he had earlier prevented Muslim men from harassing and pressuring a married Christian mother to convert to Islam. Due to this, “a mob of 20 individuals attacked Naveed’s house,” the report says. “The mob beat Naveed and damaged many of the family’s belongings. The mob further threatened Naveed to not interfere with their efforts to convert the Christian woman.” Two months later, he was lured to a supposed parley. When he arrived at the meeting point, “he was brutally tortured and he was hanged from a tree as a result of protecting a Christian woman’s faith,” his father, Herbert, recalled: “Carrying your son’s dead body in your arms is heartbreaking and unbearable. It almost ended my life when I had to shoulder my son’s funeral…. My family is still under threats to withdraw the case against the culprits. However, I have nothing to lose now.”

In a separate but similar incident in Pakistan, after sexually abusing him, two Muslim men killed Daud (“David”) Masih, a Christian teenager, on December 14 in a factory. According to a local Christian activist, “Daud and his elder brother started working at the embroidery factory during the night shift about three months ago. They were additional breadwinners for the family as the mother is sick and their father is a day laborer.” Weeks before the murder, Masih had complained about the “unethical behavior from his Muslim co-workers.” Because the owner of the factory did not seem to care or intervene, Masih stopped going to work, until the owner assured him of protection. He was abused and killed on the same day he returned to work; one of his murderers is allegedly the brother of the owner. Last reported, the individuals accused of the crime have not been arrested and were pressuring and trying to bribe the victim’s family to drop the case: “Although I am a poor Christian woman, I want justice for my son and punishment for those who killed Daud,” his mother said. “I will never go for compensation or reconciliation, as my son was killed brutally.”

Attacks on Churches

Philippines: During Sunday Mass on the evening of December 22, Islamic terrorists detonated a bomb just outside Immaculate Conception Cathedral in Cotabato, a city on the island of Mindanao. Twenty-two people were injured in the explosion, 12 of whom were soldiers patrolling the church as part of security measures adopted during the Christmas holidays. Parish priest Zaldy Robles, who called it “a cowardly act on the eve of the Christmas celebrations,” said “casualties would have been unimaginable” had the bomb reached the inside of the church. In 2009, a similar bomb attack on the same cathedral in Mindanao killed five people and injured 34. Most of the Philippines’ Muslim minority live in Mindanao, which has been a hotbed of terrorism in recent years. Among other attacks, “Islamic State-affiliated terrorists were blamed for twin suicide bombings at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Cathedral in Jolo, Sulu Province on Jan. 27 [2019], which killed at least 22 people and wounded more than 100. Jolo is a small island off the coast of Mindanao.”

Iraq: The Catholic Church of Divine Wisdom in Baghdad, built in 1929, was invaded on the day after Christmas in what was described by one report as a “hostile takeover attempt”: “Details remain scarce. Security footage of the invasion show that an Islamic leader was present amongst the invaders, who attempted to open the gate and remove the cross.” Later reports revealed that the church had been “marked for demolition by the authorities, together with some surrounding buildings, as part of a redevelopment programme in the city,” but that “local residents say the project is driven by commercial and political forces, and does not take into account the significance of the church for the community.”

Indonesia: Several reports appearing around Christmas indicated the difficulties churches experience during the holiday season. In “Aceh Christians forced to celebrate Christmas in a tent,” the BBC reported on December 23 that:

Christians in the Indonesian province of Aceh are preparing to celebrate Christmas in makeshift tents in the jungle. Their churches were destroyed four years ago by Islamic vigilante groups and the police. Indonesia – the world’s largest Muslim population – has a pluralist constitution that is meant to protect the rights of followers of all the major faiths. But Church leaders in Singkil Aceh say the local authorities are stopping them from rebuilding….

Separately, authorities on the Indonesian island of Sumatra banned Christians from celebrating Christmas in private homes. According to Sudarto, the director of an intercommunity initiative, “They did not get permission from the local government since the Christmas celebration and worship were held at the house of one of the Christians who had been involved. The local government argued that the situation was not conducive.” He added that the ban on Christians to celebrate Christmas and the New Year “has been going on for a long time [since 1985], so far they have been quietly worshiping at the home of one of the worshipers, but they have applied for permission several times. Yet the permit to celebrate Christmas was never granted. The house where they performed worship services was once burned down in early 2000 due to resistance from residents.”

Discussing yet another incident, the Jakarta Post reported on Christmas Day that “Christians in Jambi city, Jambi, still struggle to find joy on the eve of the holy day since the authorities sealed a number of local churches in the city…. Several Christians in the region were aghast when they were welcomed by a notice plastered on the closed front doors of the Assemblies of God Church (GSJA) informing them the church was sealed on Dec. 24, instead of the customary Christmas prayers and services.” This church is among three churches in the area to be closed down by the Jambi city administration following protests by local Muslim residents who cited the lack of building permits. “This is the second Christmas celebration to feel depressing for us,” said its pastor Jonathan Klaise on Christmas Eve. “It’s a difficult situation. We have no other choice but to cope with it… We can only hope that we will soon be able to pray in our church.”

Attacks on Muslim Converts (“Apostates”) to Christianity

Uganda: A Muslim man with three wives abandoned one of them and their three children on learning that she had converted to Christianity. Problems began for Florence Namuyiga, 27, when she took her eldest son, aged 7, to the church that she had been secretly attending following her conversion last May. “That evening, while back at home, my son began singing some of the Christian songs that were sung in the church,” she explained. “My husband began questioning me where the son picked such kinds of songs, but I kept quiet. He then turned to our son, who narrated what he saw in church of both men and women worshipping together in one big hall. Thereafter we went to bed with no communication with my husband.” Then, on November 29, her husband, Abudalah Nsubuga, 34, insisted she to go to Friday mosque prayers. “I refused,” she said. “He started beating me up with sticks, blows and kicks.

When I fell down, he left me and went to the mosque. I began bleeding with serious injury on my left arm. That evening he did not come to the house but slept in the house of one of my co-wives.” On the next day,

He arrived [home] and pronounced [ritual Islamic] words of divorce and threatened to kill me if I remained in the homestead… There and then I left the homestead, leaving all my belongings behind…. I have been supporting my three children by washing peoples’ clothing around the village. Indeed life is quite difficult for me and the children. I have realized that following Jesus is not easy. Sometimes I spend sleepless nights thinking on my future and that of my small kids, especially their school fees.

Iran: On December 20, Mohammad Moghiseh, the head of Tehran Revolutionary Court, sentenced nine Muslim apostates to a total of 45 years in prison. “These Christian converts have objected to the verdict issued by the Tehran Revolutionary Court and are awaiting final appeal,” the report states. The day before sentencing, on December 19, the US Treasury Department accused Mohammad Moghiseh and another Revolutionary judge of violating justice and abusing the rights of religious minorities and others.

General Abuse of and Discrimination against Christians

Tajikistan: A Christian pastor who was sentenced to three years in prison on the charge of “singing extremist songs in church and so inciting religious hatred,” was released on December 18, 2020, after serving two-and-a-half years. In 2017, authorities had raided the Good News of Grace Protestant Church in Khujand. Many of the congregation were beat, lost their jobs, and faced other forms of repercussions in the wake of the raid on their church. Pastor Bakhrom Kholmatov, a 43-year-old married father of three, was then sentenced on the aforementioned charges. According to the report,

Officials claimed that Christian songs found on his computer and the book More Than a Carpenter by Josh McDowell are “extremist materials.” They alleged that religious “experts” recognised the songs Praise God, O Unbelieving Country, Army of Christ and Our Battle is Not Against Blood and Flesh as “extremist and calling people to overthrow the government.”

“I’d like to express my huge gratitude to all the people who supported and prayed for me, my family and my church,” Kholmatov said in a statement. “All these three years I felt your prayers, they helped me to stand, they helped my precious wife and children, they helped the members of my church who were left without a pastor, then kicked by the authorities out of our building.”

Iran: “The Iranian regime has begun cracking down on evangelical Christians in Iran in the run-up to Christmas,” Al Arabiya reported on December 15. “Security officials routinely arrest Christian citizens during the Christmas season, according to the 2019 US Commission for International Religious Freedom report, which found the regime arrested 114 Christians during the first week of December in 2018.” Dabrina Tamraz, who experienced persecution as a Christian before she managed to flee the Islamic republic nine years ago, shed light on the plight of Christians by recounting her own experiences: “Christmas celebrations make it easier for Iranian authorities to arrest a group of Christians at one time,” said the escapee who currently resides in Europe. During a family Christmas gathering in Tehran in 2014, “My brother opened the door only to be confronted with about 30 plain clothes officers who pushed their way in. They separated men from women and conducted strip body searches. Three people, including my father, were arrested and charged with acting against national security and conducting evangelism.” The report adds that “The Iranian government considers evangelism—the sharing of the Christian faith—a criminal act.”

As another example of the persecution and discrimination Christians routinely experience around Christmas, the annual Armenian Christian market at Tehran’s Ararat Club, which was supposed to be held between Christmas Eve and the New Year, was canceled by officials. According to that report,

In a situation where the economy is declining and the business market is sluggish due to the policies of the Islamic Republic … this cancellation for preventing ‘Christian propaganda’ is an irrational decision. The cancellation of the market, which is a clear sign of discrimination and inequality, has received widespread criticism in the Armenian community… Every year on the eve of Christmas, pressure on the Iranian Christian community by various government agencies is increasing, including arresting Christian activists, obstructing the business of Christian sellers, even those who sell Christmas decorations!… Christian compatriots are subject to double discrimination, whether in the labor market, employment, job position or in violating their right to run private businesses.

Pakistan: “A 14-year-old Christian girl from Zia Colony, Karachi, was kidnapped, forcibly converted and married off to a Muslim man,” Asia Times reported on December 3. “Our daughters are insecure and abused in this country,” the mother of Huma Younus, explained. “They are not safe anywhere. We leave them at schools or home but they are kidnapped, raped, humiliated, and forced to convert to Islam.” The eighth grade student was seen by neighbors being forcefully dragged into a car by three armed men. “She was kidnapped by Abdul Jabar, a Muslim,” her father said. After the girl’s family went to police, Jabar sent documents to the family over WhatsApp: “He asked us not to be worried for Huma as she is now his wife and has entered into Islam”; however, “the religious conversion documents are fake,” said the mother, noting that the date of the document of the 14-year-old’s alleged conversion is the same date of her abduction. “My daughter’s life is in danger. She could be tortured or killed. I beg the authorities to recover my daughter as soon as possible.” “Christian girls are being abused and forcefully converted,” Fr. Saleh Diego, Director of the Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace in Karachi, said while discussing this latest incident:

The kidnappers are misusing religion for their motives and spoiling the lives of hundreds of young girls from the marginalized Christian community….Huma must be recovered with no further delay. This unethical and illegal practice must also be stopped and the kidnappers of Huma and other girls must be brought to justice and punished for their crimes.

To date, police and courts have largely been unresponsive. “Abducting for the purpose of forced conversion and marriage is a major issue in Pakistan,” Asia Times concludes. “Most of the victims are Christian and Hindu girls and young women, forced to wed against their will to much older Muslim men.”

United Nations: According to a December 4 CBN News report, “Christian Syrian refugees … have been blocked from getting help from the United Nations Refugee Agency … by Muslim UN officials in Jordan.” One of the refugees, Hasan, a Syrian convert to Christianity, explained that Muslim UN camp officials “knew that we were Muslims and became Christians and they dealt with us with persecution and mockery. They didn’t let us into the office. They ignored our request.” “Hasan and his family are now in hiding,” the report adds, “afraid that they will be arrested by Jordanian police, or even killed. Converting to Christianity is a serious crime in Jordan.” Timothy, another Jordanian Muslim convert to Christianity, confirmed: “All of the United Nations officials [apparently in Jordan], most of them, 99 percent, they are Muslims, and they were treating us as enemies.” Addressing this issue, Paul Diamond, a British human rights lawyer, elaborated:

You have this absurd situation where the scheme is set up to help Syrian refugees and the people most in need, Christians who have been “genocided,” they can’t even get into the U.N. camps to get the food. If you enter and say I am a Christian or convert, the Muslim U.N. guards will block you [from] getting in and laugh at you and mock you and even threaten you…. [saying] “You shouldn’t have converted. You’re an idiot for converting. You get what you get,” words to that effect.

Raymond Ibrahim, author of the new book, Sword and Scimitar, Fourteen Centuries of War between Islam and the West, is a Distinguished Senior Fellow at the Gatestone Institute, a Shillman Fellow at the David Horowitz Freedom Center, and a Judith Rosen Friedman Fellow at the Middle East Forum.

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic. Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed in 2011 to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that occur or are reported each month. It serves two purposes:

1) To document that which the mainstream media does not: the habitual, if not chronic, persecution of Christians.

2) To show that such persecution is not “random,” but systematic and interrelated—that it is rooted in a worldview inspired by Islamic Sharia.

Accordingly, whatever the anecdote of persecution, it typically fits under a specific theme, including hatred for churches and other Christian symbols; apostasy, blasphemy, and proselytism laws that criminalize and sometimes punish with death those who “offend” Islam; sexual abuse of Christian women; forced conversions to Islam; theft and plunder in lieu of jizya (financial tribute expected from non-Muslims); overall expectations for Christians to behave like cowed dhimmis, or second-class, “tolerated” citizens; and simple violence and murder. Sometimes it is a combination thereof.

Because these accounts of persecution span different ethnicities, languages, and locales—from Morocco in the West, to Indonesia in the East—it should be clear that one thing alone binds them: Islam—whether the strict application of Islamic Sharia law, or the supremacist culture born of it.

#Islam #Muslim #Religion #Sharia #Jihad #Legal #News #Politics #Media #Mosque #Travel #Persecution

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newstfionline · 4 years ago

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Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Trump Expected to Order Troop Withdrawal (Foreign Policy) U.S. President Donald Trump is set to order a dramatic and rapid cut in the number of U.S. troops stationed in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia as he seeks action from loyalists newly installed at the U.S. Department of Defense. A perception that Mark Esper, the previous U.S. Secretary of Defense, would not agree to further troop reductions on so quick a schedule, was seen as one of the reasons for his removal from the post shortly after the U.S. presidential election. Although the numbers are not yet public, several media reports signal a halving of current troop levels in Afghanistan from the 4,500 troops currently stationed there. A reduction in Iraq would be less severe, but almost all of the 700 U.S. troops stationed in Somalia are expected to return to the United States. Although Republican leaders are wary, a troop withdrawal appears to be popular among the American public. According to a YouGov poll commissioned by the libertarian Charles Koch Institute in August, 76 percent Americans supported withdrawing troops from Afghanistan, with almost half of respondents strongly supporting withdrawal. The number supporting U.S. troop withdrawals from Iraq was 74 percent. The desire to end America’s wars in the Middle East and South Asia is felt similarly among U.S. military veterans. An April poll by another Koch-backed group found 73 percent of veterans surveyed supported a full withdrawal from Afghanistan, an almost 13 percent increase from the previous year.

Covid-19 origin remains a mystery (South China Morning Post, Tumori Journal) The virus that causes the Covid-19 disease has now infected more than 54 million people across the planet, but the question of just where it came from remains a mystery. Researchers may have found a new link in this puzzle after discovering evidence suggesting the pathogen had infected people across Italy as early as September last year, or months before it was first identified in the Chinese city of Wuhan. The unexpected finding “may reshape the history of [the] pandemic”, said the team led by Dr Gabriella Sozzi, a life scientist with the National Cancer Institute of Milan, in a peer-reviewed paper published last week in the Tumori Journal.

Hurricane Iota bashes Nicaragua, Honduras after Eta floods (AP) Hurricane Iota battered Nicaragua’s Caribbean coast and flooded some stretches of neighboring Honduras that were still under water from Hurricane Eta two weeks earlier, leaving authorities struggling to assess damage after communications were knocked out in some areas. By late Tuesday, Iota had diminished to a tropical storm and was moving inland over northern Nicaragua and southern Honduras, but forecasters warned that its heavy rains still posed a threat of flooding and mudslides. The storm passed about 25 miles (40 kilometers) south-southwest of Tegucigalpa, the capital of Honduras, where rivers were rising and rain was expected to intensify. In mountainous Tegucigalpa, residents of low-lying, flood-prone areas were being evacuated in anticipation of Iota’s rains, as were residents of hillside neighborhoods vulnerable to landslides.

Boris Johnson, in self-quarantine, says he’s ‘bursting with antibodies’ (Washington Post) British Prime Minister Boris Johnson boasted that he was “fit as a butcher’s dog” and “bursting with antibodies” as he began two weeks of self-quarantine after having close contact with a lawmaker who contracted the coronavirus. Johnson was infected with the virus in March—and struggled to breathe in an intensive care unit for three days. His staff did not say on Monday whether he had been tested this time, but cases of coronavirus reinfection have been incredibly rare. Johnson on Monday said that he felt great and that because he previously had the disease he was “bursting with antibodies” but that he would self-quarantine for two weeks as “we got to interrupt the spread of the disease.” He added that he would continue to govern by video conference.

After Trump, Europe aims to show Biden it can fight for itself (Reuters) The Donald Trump era may be coming to an end. But European Union ministers meeting this week to discuss the future of the continent’s defence will say the lesson has been learned: Europe needs to be strong enough to fight on its own. EU foreign and defence ministers meeting by teleconference on Thursday and Friday will receive the bloc’s first annual report on joint defence capabilities, expected to serve as the basis for a French-led, post-Brexit, post-Trump effort to turn the EU into a stand-alone military power. “We aren’t in the old status quo, where we can pretend that the Donald Trump presidency never existed and the world was the same as four years ago,” a French diplomat said. The EU has been working since December 2017 to develop more firepower independently of the United States. The effort has been driven mainly by France, the EU’s remaining major military power after Brexit.

Hungary and Poland Threaten E.U. Stimulus Over Rule of Law Links (NYT) When European Union leaders announced a landmark stimulus package to rescue their economies from the ravages of the coronavirus, they agreed to jointly raise hundreds of billions of dollars to use as aid—a bold and widely welcomed leap in collaboration never attempted in the bloc’s history. But that unity was shattered on Monday when Hungary and Poland blocked the stimulus plan and the broader budget. The two eastern European countries said they would veto the spending bill because the funding was made conditional on upholding rule-of-law standards, such as an independent judiciary, which the two governments have weakened as they defiantly tear down separation of powers at home. Their veto has thrown a signature achievement of the bloc into disarray, deepening a long-building standoff over its core principles and threatening to delay the stimulus money from getting to E.U. member states, if a new agreement can be reached at all.

Armenia seethes over peace deal (Foreign Policy) Armenia’s government is under strain after signing a cease-fire agreement with Azerbaijan in a Russian-backed deal a week ago. On Monday, Armenian Foreign Minister Zohrab Mnatsakanyan resigned after a public disagreement with Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan over the direction of peace talks. Pressure on Pashinyan has shown no sign of easing in recent days: 17 opposition parties have called for his resignation as street protests against his leadership continue.

Kissinger Warns Biden of U.S.-China Catastrophe on Scale of WWI (Bloomberg) Former U.S. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger said the incoming Biden administration should move quickly to restore lines of communication with China that frayed during the Trump years or risk a crisis that could escalate into military conflict. “Unless there is some basis for some cooperative action, the world will slide into a catastrophe comparable to World War I,” Kissinger said during the opening session of the Bloomberg New Economy Forum. He said military technologies available today would make such a crisis “even more difficult to control” than those of earlier eras. “America and China are now drifting increasingly toward confrontation, and they’re conducting their diplomacy in a confrontational way,” the 97-year-old Kissinger said in an interview with Bloomberg News Editor-in-Chief John Micklethwait. “The danger is that some crisis will occur that will go beyond rhetoric into actual military conflict.” U.S.-China relations are at their lowest in decades. As President Donald Trump stepped up his criticism of China, blaming it for the spread of the virus and the death toll in the U.S., each side also has ramped up moves the other sees as hostile.

Hundreds of fraudulent votes were discovered. Then a fat green parrot was elected. (Washington Post) A plump, waddling parrot has soared past its competition to claim victory in New Zealand’s Bird of the Year contest, a tense race marked by attempted voter interference during a divisive month of campaigning. In what event organizers conceded was “a stunning upset,” the critically endangered kakapo flew into first place to steal the title—ruffling the feathers of those who say the bright-green parrot unfairly secured a second term as chosen bird. The bird-of-the-year controversy took flight after data analysts working with Forest & Bird discovered that roughly 1,500 fraudulent votes had been cast. The “illegal votes,” which were submitted using a suspicious email account and came from the same IP address in Auckland, briefly pushed the country’s tiny kiwi pukupuku bird into the lead, a brazen meddling attempt that sent officials and campaign managers into a flap. Those votes were immediately disregarded, organizers said. “It’s lucky we spotted this little kiwi trying to sneak in an extra 1500 votes under the cover of darkness!” Laura Keown, spokesperson for Bird of the Year, said in a statement Nov. 10, adding that officials did not “want to see any more cheating.”

Israelis Take On Netanyahu And Coronavirus Restrictions In Wave Of Civil Disobedience (The Intercept) Netanyahu is Israel’s longest-serving prime minister, having been at the helm for over 11 consecutive years. He is also the first sitting prime minister to be indicted, currently on trial in three cases of bribery, fraud, and breach of trust, arising from abusing his authority to grant favors for, among other things, favorable media coverage. While there have been small but stubborn protests against Netanyahu since investigations into his corruption first opened in late 2016, it was not until the coronavirus paralyzed Israel’s economy that people—many of them in their 20s and 30s—starting coming out in droves. For more than 20 weeks now, tens of thousands of Israelis have taken to the streets to call on Netanyahu to recuse himself for corruption, for failing to manage the pandemic, and for what many describe as his megalomania—doing whatever it takes to evade trial. They have been convening in massive numbers in front of his official residence, many carrying homemade signs, chanting in unison “Go!” and “We won’t leave till Bibi resigns.”

Protests that historically bring out large numbers of Jewish Israelis have long been dominated by Israel’s left-leaning peace camp, and a decade ago, others drawing attention to the high cost of living. What is happening now is different: With over a million people unemployed in a country of 9 million, culture and nightlife all but dead amid the pandemic, and people’s ability to travel outside the country severely restricted, a nationwide movement of disgruntled Israelis, spanning ages and to an extent sociocultural backgrounds, is practicing civil disobedience. The government has responded with relative force against a segment of the Jewish population that is largely unfamiliar with police brutality and has not had their individual rights violated. At the same time, the government has all but ignored incitement and incidents of violence against the protesters. The official response is giving Jewish Israelis a tiny window into what it has always been like for Palestinians, both in Israel and the occupied West Bank and Gaza, whose protests are, prima facie, treated as suspect.

Ethiopia bombs Tigray capital (Foreign Policy) Ethiopia’s air force began bombing the Tigray region’s capital, Mekelle, on Monday in another escalation of the country’s civil war, now entering its third week. In a tweet he later deleted, Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni called for the two sides to negotiate and halt the conflict “lest it leads to unnecessary loss of lives and cripples the economy.” Redwan Hussein, a government spokesman, said the war would be a “short-lived operation,” and that mediation offers from Uganda or another country were not being considered.

Amazon opens online pharmacy, shaking up another industry (AP) Now at Amazon.com: insulin and inhalers. The online colossus opened an online pharmacy Tuesday that allows customers to order medication or prescription refills, and have them delivered to their front door in a couple of days. The potential impact of Amazon’s arrival in the pharmaceutical space rippled through that sector immediately. Before the opening bell, shares of CVS Health Corp. fell almost 9%. Walgreens and Rite Aid both tumbled more than 10%. The big chains rely on their pharmacies for a steady flow of shoppers who may also grab a snack, or shampoo or groceries on the way out. All have upped online services, but Amazon.com has mastered it, and its online store is infinitely larger. Amazon will begin offering commonly prescribed medications Tuesday in the U.S., including creams, pills, as well as medications that need to stay refrigerated, like insulin. Shoppers have to set up a profile on Amazon’s website and have their doctors send prescriptions there. The company said it won’t ship medications that can be abused, including many opioids. Most insurance is accepted, Amazon said. But Prime members who don’t have insurance can also buy generic or brand name drugs from Amazon for a discount. They can also get discounts at 50,000 physical pharmacies around the country, inside Costco, CVS, Walgreens, Walmart and other stores.

R.I.P. whoopsie (Euronews) French broadcaster RFI has apologized after a bug on its website triggered the publication of obituaries of Queen Elizabeth II, Pelé, Jimmy Carter, Brigitte Bardot, Clint Eastwood and about 100 other prominent (and still alive) celebrities. RFI said in a statement that a “technical problem” led to the erroneous publications. Broadcasters often prepare obituary material in advance to publish it promptly when a death is announced.

#headlines #news

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Marsha Hunt

Marsha Hunt (born April 15, 1946) is an American actress, novelist, singer and former model, who has lived mostly in Britain and Ireland. She achieved national fame when she appeared in London as Dionne in the long-running rock musical Hair. She enjoyed close relationships with Marc Bolan and Mick Jagger, who is the father of her only child Karis.

According to Hunt, The Rolling Stones' controversial hit song "Brown Sugar" was based on her. She has written three novels, as well as three volumes of autobiography, which include a frank account of life as a breast cancer sufferer.

Early life

Hunt was born in Philadelphia in 1946 and lived in North Philadelphia, near 23rd and Columbia, then in Germantown and Mount Airy, for the first 13 years of her life. Hunt remembers Philadelphia with affection, particularly the "Philadelphia steak sandwiches and the bad boys on the basketball court".

Hunt's mother, Inez, was her primary parent and worked as a librarian in a local library. Hunt's father, Blaire Theodore Hunt, Jr., was one of America's first black psychiatrists but he did not live with Hunt; she found out when she was 15-years old that he had committed suicide three years previously. Hunt was brought up by her mother, her aunt, and her grandmother; three strong but very different women. Hunt describes her mother Inez as "extremely intelligent and education-minded", her Aunt Thelma as "extremely Catholic but very glamorous", and her grandmother Edna as an "extremely aggressive...ass-kicking" independent Southern woman.

Hunt credits the experience of having been poor with teaching her not to be materialistic. Her family put a great deal of emphasis on academic performance, and Hunt did very well in school. In 1960, the family moved to Kensington, California, which Hunt still regards as home, so that her brother and sister could attend Oakland High School and prepare to attend the University of California, Berkeley. Hunt also went to Berkeley, in 1964, where she joined Jerry Rubin on protest marches against the Vietnam War. In her book Undefeated she recalled that during her time at Berkeley they "were sitting in for the Free Speech Movement, smoking pot, experimenting with acid, lining up to take Oriental philosophy courses, daring to co-habit, and going to dances in San Francisco."

Move to London

In February 1966, Hunt moved to Britain and for a time lived in Edinburgh, Scotland. Hunt has said that in London in the 1960s "anything seemed possible."

Marriage to Mike Ratledge

In late 1966, Hunt met Mike Ratledge of Soft Machine. Hunt was having trouble getting a visa extension to stay in England and proposed to Ratledge. Ratledge and Hunt were married on April 15, 1967. The Soft Machine were heavily booked and there was no time for a honeymoon, but Ratledge and Hunt were able to spend two months together before the band headed for France later that year. Hunt said in 1991 that she and Ratledge never held hands and never kissed, though "...he comes for Easter. But that's what we called 'married'." While the two have remained good friends, Hunt says the secret to a happy marriage is to "separate immediately." When Hunt and Ratledge reached their 40th wedding anniversary, Hunt called Ratledge up and said, jokingly, "We should renew our vows."

Music

Although Hunt indicates that she had no great musical talent, she worked as a singer for 18 months after arriving in England. In February 1967, Hunt took a singing job with Alexis Korner's trio "Free at Last" so that she could earn her fare back home. She did not use it, but remained, and in 1968, joined the group The Ferris Wheel. That same year, Hunt achieved national fame in England when she appeared as "Dionne" in the rock musical Hair, a box-office smash on the London stage. Hunt only had two lines of dialogue in Hair, but she attracted a lot of media attention and her photo appeared in many newspapers and magazines. Her photograph was used on the poster and playbill of the original London production, photographed by Justin de Villeneuve. Her 1968 photo also replaced the original LP artwork when Readers Digest re-issued the LP in Europe in 1976. Hunt says that the role was a perfect fit for her, expressing who she actually was. She was one of three Americans featured in the London show, and when the show began she had no contract to perform. When the show opened she was featured in so many stories that she was offered a contract right away.Hunt played at the Jazz Bilzen and Isle of Wight music festivals in August 1969 with her backup band "White Trash". Hunt's first single, a cover of Dr John's "Walk on Gilded Splinters", produced by Tony Visconti, was released on Track Records in 1969; it became a minor hit. An album, Woman Child (also produced by Tony Visconti) (in Germany released under the title Desdemona), followed in 1971. In May 1977, an album with disco songs was released in Germany with the title Marsha. It was recorded at Musicland Studios in Munich and produced by Pete Belotte (co-producer with Giorgio Moroder of many Donna Summer albums)

Hunt met Marc Bolan in 1969 when she went to the studio where Bolan's group was recording "Unicorn". Tony Visconti said that when Bolan and Hunt met, "[y]ou could see the shafts of light pouring out of their eyes into each other.... We finished the session unusually early, and Marc and Marsha walked out into the night hand in hand." According to Hunt, the relationship between the two was based on more than physical attraction, though she also recalled that her commercial visibility put her in opposition to Bolan's philosophy that "the serious art of music...was validated by obscurity."

In 1973, as a member of a panel organised by British magazine Melody Maker to discuss women in music and options open to black women, Hunt suggested that black women needed to make use of the "side-door" in the industry, entering as "the statuary representative" before they could make music under their own terms.

In addition to her husband, Korner and Bolan, Hunt was professionally associated with such musicians as Long John Baldry, John Mayall and Elton John.

In the 1970s, for a while, Hunt co-presented with Sarah Ward a popular late-night radio show, Sarah. Marsha and Friends, on London's Capital Radio.

Modelling

Three months after Hair opened, Hunt was on the cover of British high-fashion magazine Queen, the first black model to appear on their cover. In 1968, Hunt posed nude for photographer Patrick Lichfield after the opening night for Hair and the photo appeared on the cover of British Vogue's January 1969 issue. Almost 40 years later Hunt again posed nude for Litchfield, recreating the pose for her Vogue cover five weeks after she had had her right breast and lymph glands removed to halt the spread of cancer. The photo appeared on the cover of her 2005 book Undefeated, about her battle with cancer. She was pleased to work with the photographer under such differing circumstances, though in her autobiography she expressed confusion as to why the photo has been so often reprinted. Hunt has also been photographed by Lewis Morley, Horace Ové, and Robert Taylor.

Relationship with Mick Jagger

In 1991, Hunt said that she met Mick Jagger when The Rolling Stones asked her to pose for an ad for "Honky Tonk Women", which she refused to do because she "didn't want to look like [she'd] just been had by all the Rolling Stones." Jagger called her later, and their nine or 10-month affair began. According to Christopher Sanford's book Mick Jagger: Rebel Knight, Hunt told journalist Frankie McGowan that Jagger's shyness and awkwardness won her over, but that their relationship was conducted mostly in private because their social scenes were very different. In London, November 1970, Hunt gave birth to Jagger's first and her only child, Karis. According to Hunt, the pair planned the child but never intended to live together. According to Tony Sanchez in Up and Down with the Rolling Stones, Jagger considered proposing to Hunt but did not because he did not think he loved Hunt enough to spend the rest of his life with her, while Hunt, for her part, did not think they were sufficiently compatible to co-habit satisfactorily.

In 1973, when Karis was two years old, Hunt asked the courts in London for an affiliation order against Jagger and eventually settled out of court. Jagger called the suit "silly." He agreed to set up a trust fund for Karis and pay $17 a week for her support until she reached 21, but he was allowed to deny his paternity on record. In 1978, Hunt filed a paternity suit in Los Angeles asking for $580 a week and for Jagger to publicly claim their daughter. At the time Hunt was unemployed and received welfare payments from Aid to Dependent Children. In 1979, Hunt won the paternity suit saying she wanted "only to be able to say to my daughter, when she's 21, that I didn't allow her father to neglect his responsibilities." Through the years Jagger became close to Karis; he took her on holiday with his family when she was a teenager, attended her Yale University graduation and her 2000 wedding, and he was at the hospital for the birth of her son in 2004. As of 2008, he continued to see her and her family. Citing the binding tie of a child, Hunt says she still sees Jagger, but has a closer relationship with Jagger's mother. In 1991, Hunt indicated that she left the door open for Jagger to come back to his child and admired the fact that he did.

Commenting on rumours about her life, Hunt said of an apocryphal story: "You must have read that on the internet. One reason I haven't had it removed is that it is proof that the internet is full of absolute bullshit. Ridiculous things have been written about me so often that we won't even go there."

In December 2012, Hunt sold a series of love letters written to her in the summer of 1969 by Mick Jagger. The letters were sold by Sotheby's of London. The letters sold for £182,250 ($301,000).

"Brown Sugar"

Christopher Sanford writes in his book Mick Jagger that when the Rolling Stones released the song "Brown Sugar" there was immediate speculation that it referred to Hunt or to soul singer Claudia Lennear. In her autobiography, Real Life (1985), Hunt acknowledged that "Brown Sugar" is about her, among a few other songs, a fact she reiterated in her book Undefeated (2006). When Hunt was asked for an interview with the Irish Times in 2008 how she felt about the song, she said: "it doesn't make me feel any way at all."

Writing

Autobiography

Hunt began writing in 1985, and her first book was her autobiography, Real Life: The Story of a Survivor (1986). She found the process of writing more difficult than she expected, but did not stop there, continuing in 1996 with another autobiography, Repossessing Ernestine: A Granddaughter Uncovers the Secret History of Her American Family, about her search for her father's mother Ernestine who was placed in an asylum for nearly 50 years. After Hunt's father committed suicide when she was 12-years old, Hunt's contact with her father's family was sporadic. Hunt tracked down her father's father Blair Hunt shortly before he died in 1978 to find him living sedately in a seedy part of town with his companion of 60 years. Hunt discovered that her grandfather had been a public school administrator and a leading member of Memphis's black community. Blair Hunt talked about his "poor dear sick wife" who he had "put away" many years before. Hunt discovered that her father's mother, Ernestine, had been born in 1896 as a free black and that she grew up in Memphis, "an intelligent, remarkably beautiful young woman who excelled in school and was greatly envied for her pale skin, blue eyes and blonde hair." Hunt tracked her grandmother down to a rundown nursing home, and although Hunt was unable to discover why Ernestine spent 50 years behind bars, Hunt wrote that the reasons may have had more to do with racism and sexism than insanity.

In 2005, Hunt released her memoir about her battle with cancer, Undefeated.

Novelist

In 1990, Hunt published her first novel, Joy, about a woman who grew up to join a singing group reminiscent of The Supremes before dying an early death. Set in a posh New York apartment in the course of one day in the spring of 1987, the novel contains frequent flashbacks that describe life in a black neighbourhood in the 1950s and 1960s. The book also deals with stardom in the music business and some people's inability, despite their riches, to make their own American Dream come true and to lead fulfilled lives. Hunt indicates that within her novel, all the characters are victims who are also guilty, a reflection of real life where "[w]e get hurt, but we're also hurting each other all the time." Hunt wrote Joy while touring England with a group performing Othello and said her fellow actors made fun of her while she was writing the book; given her reputation, she feels, they may have thought her an aspiring Joan Collins. Hunt says Joy is also about the colourism that existed within black society at the time, where girls with fairer skin and longer hair were preferred to girls with kinky hair and more stereotypically Black characteristics. Hunt said that living in England and exploring its accents taught her how beautiful Black language was, a "culturally important" feature she preserved in her novel.

Hunt's second novel, Free, published in 1992, tells the story of freed slaves and their children living in Germantown, Pennsylvania, in 1913. Hunt's novel Like Venus Fading (1998) is inspired by the lives of Adelaide Hall, known as the "lightly-tanned Venus", Josephine Baker and Dorothy Dandridge.

Hunt wrote her first four books whilst living in isolation in a remote hideaway in France called La montagne. With no one for company but a barn cat who came to eat each morning, and the people she saw once a day at a nearby patisserie, she was inspired to write by silence and boredom.

Editor

In 1999, Hunt sought a job of writer-in-residence at Dublin’s Mountjoy Prison and later collected selected writings from the prisoners and edited The Junk Yard: Voices From An Irish Prison. The book contains 15 stories divided into five sections: Childhood, Family Life, The Score, Criminal Life and Prison Life. One publisher was critical of the repetitive themes of urban poverty, addiction, and life in prison, but Hunt responded by asserting that it is worth considering why the inmates had such similar tales to tell. The Junk Yard: Voices From An Irish Prison became a number-one bestseller in Ireland in 1999.

Activist

In 1995, Hunt set up the Saga Prize, to unearth new British-born black literary talent and recognise the literature emerging from indigenous black Britons' experiences. Awarded to "the best unpublished novel by a writer born in Great Britain or The Republic of Ireland having a black African ancestor", the prize, while attracting criticism from the Commission for Racial Equality, ran for four years until 1998, winners including Diran Adebayo and Joanna Traynor.

During the 1997 Edinburgh International Book Festival, Hunt staged a one-woman protest, picketing Charlotte Square about the "shoddy administration" of the festival. The director of the festival was fired in the aftermath of her protest.

Current projects

Hunt has been working on a book about Jimi Hendrix that she considers her life work. She indicates that no one alive can share her perspective on the matter, "because he and I shared something – black Americans who came to London were transformed and re-packaged for the U.S., although I never became successful there and he did." No release date has been given.

Acting

Theatre

In 1971, Hunt played Bianca in Catch My Soul, the rock-and-roll stage version of Othello produced by Jack Good. In 1973, she wrote, produced and directed a new London show entitled Man to Woman, the music from which was released on vinyl in 1982 by Virgin Records, featuring vocals by Robert Wyatt. In 1975, Hunt appeared as Sabina in The Skin of Our Teeth. In 1991, Hunt appeared as Nurse Logan in the world premier of Arthur Miller's The Ride Down Mount Morgan at London's Wyndham's Theatre. Hunt became a member of the National Theatre and the Royal Shakespeare Company.

In 1994, Hunt performed a one-woman play in Scotland at the Edinburgh Festival playing Baby Palatine, a 60-year-old woman who becomes the wardrobe mistress to a female pop group. The play is based on Hunt's novel Joy (1990). Hunt was directed in the play by her daughter Karis Jagger, who has said that it was her mother's idea. Jagger says that the pair "spent six weeks rehearsing in France. Because the weather was so good we marked out the shape of the stage with my teddy bears and rehearsed in the garden."

Film

Hunt's film career included appearances in Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972), Britannia Hospital (1982) directed by Lindsay Anderson, The Sender (1982), Never Say Never Again (1983), Howling II: Your Sister Is a Werewolf (1985), and Tank Malling (1989). In 1990, Hunt played Bianca in the BBC television production of Othello directed by Trevor Nunn.

Documentaries

In 1997, when Irish documentary filmmaker Alan Gilsenan made God Bless America, featuring six American cities seen through the eyes of six American authors, Hunt was invited to participate, and her participation resulted in Marsha Hunt's Philadelphia. According to Gilsenan, Hunt attributes the success of American democracy and capitalism to the crime of slavery, a crime that must be understood if America is to have peace. Hunt fell in love with Gilsenan and moved to the Wicklow mountains near Dublin with him, where in 1999 she helped him fight colon cancer, drawing on her own experiences with the disease. Hunt is no longer romantically involved with Gilsenan, who has since married and fathered a child, but as of 2008 still sees him.

Hunt has also been the subject of a documentary, Beating Breast Cancer on ITV, broadcast on September 26, 2005.

Cancer

In late 2004, Hunt was diagnosed with breast cancer and was told to have surgery to remove her right breast and her lymph nodes. Hunt postponed seeking treatment for five months, later wondering if she would have faced first stage rather than third stage cancer had she not. When she chose to have surgery, she decided to have it done in Ireland, because she felt that the Irish are more supportive and comfortable with illness than people in the U.S.; she envisaged that treatment in the U.S. would feel impersonal. Hunt decided to have a complete mastectomy with no following reconstruction. She says, "Reconstruction – as if the breast is miraculously put back to the way it was. In fact, pretty much all you get is your cleavage back; you don't get any feeling or sensitivity... They take muscles from your back, skin from your thighs, fat from your stomach. You had a breast removed, but the rest of you was fine. Now half your body is hacked about – and for what?" On the day of her operation Hunt wrote a note on her breast to the surgical team, telling them to have fun, make sure they took the right breast off and drew them a flower.

Once the operation was over Hunt says she did not mourn the loss of her breast, but felt happy that the cancer had been removed. Her view of the experience of mastectomy states that the surgery left her with a "battle scar" that makes her feel sexier, as it is a memento of what she has survived.In July 2007 Hunt spoke about her breast removal with a 12-year-old boy, telling him that she is now like the Amazons of old who would have a breast removed so that when they went into battle they could use their bow without their breast getting in the way when they let their arrows fly.

After her mastectomy, she contracted the superbug MRSA and had to be treated with Zyvox. She also had chemotherapy. Not wanting to wait for her hair to fall out naturally, she decided to control it herself, throwing a party where her guests took turns cutting off locks of her hair.

The Irish Independent reported on August 27, 2008, that Hunt stood on a table at the opening of the Mater Private Hospital in Dublin to let everyone see that she had survived third-stage breast cancer after a treatment of chemotherapy, radiation and Herceptin therapy at the hospital.

Personal life

Hunt says that the biggest misconception people have about her is that she is wealthy, though she describes herself as "rich in spirit". Hunt has been true to her belief that wealth is not necessary for happiness and has lived the "writing life" for the past two decades. She enjoys the solitude of living on her own and finds that being single means she has encounters and experiences that she would not have if she were part of a couple, where others might choose not to intrude and where she would have to co-ordinate her schedule with another. Hunt has lived in Ireland since 1995. She also lives in France, where she owns a home in the countryside about 60 miles from Paris.

Black/American identity

When Hunt came to live in Europe she found that people there called her an American, not an African American or Black. She herself describes her skin colour as "oak with a hint of maple", and notes that "[o]f the various races I know I comprise—African, American Indian, German Jew and Irish—only the African was acknowledged." Hunt invented her own word to describe herself, based on the French word melange (mixture) and the word melanin: Melangian.

Hunt said in 1991 that there is a pain inflicted by the black community on itself, which it fears to communicate openly. She also says that living overseas for most of her life has made her a foreigner in the US. She said, "I'm scared to walk through Harlem... more scared than you, because if I walked through Harlem with the weird shoes and the weird accent, I'd get my butt kicked faster than you. In a way, I'm the betrayer."

Hunt is featured in the National Museum of African American History and Culture, a Smithsonian Institution museum in Washington D.C. that opened in 2016 at a ceremony led by President Barack Obama.

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