#like first of all just call us kikes we know it's what you really want to say

[hazel2468]

"It's not really about my politics. It's about the fact that we're Jewish."

And that sums up the entire so-called "anti-Zionist" movement. It's not about politics. It is not about what any individual Jew believes, it doesn't believe. It is not about Israel.

It is about racist, bigoted, awful people who saw the chance to attack Jews, yet again, and leaped at it. It is about people who are so eager for blood, and specifically Jewish blood, that they cheer on extremist terrorist groups who go against everything that, a year and a half ago, these people said they stood for. It is about a movement of people who, at least in some part, likely feel immense guilt for the sins of their own ancestors and their own inaction, and so instead of analyzing that and going good, they fall back on what their ancestors always did. They found someone else to blame.

And as usual. They have chosen the Jews.

a beautiful response to a horrific comment.

[grungiiuvu]

Hi! Previous anon here! I just rechecked ur blog and i saw u replied to me and ajsjdnkdkdn im so honored u wanna know more abt my culture😭😭😭 but before i start rambling i just wanna say im apart of two chinese clans? Cultures? Idk how to say it but i googled it and its called a province so province it is! My mom is fu jian and my dad is fu jian AND ke jia, but since my grandma's(ke jia) influence is so strong and most of my grandpa's(fu jian) relatives are 💀 i actually have an equal share of both cultures. By that i mean like, two different languages, which are thankfully just spoken, not written, and also lots of different food and pronunciations! For example, instead of hongbao, i say angbao.

Okay, so! I think one of the most prominent things i've grown up with is like, nicknames. And one thing i see is so common in tgcf fanfictions is the "A". Like: A-lian, A-qing, A-xin. Which okay, its actually used but its actually very uncommon(at least where i've grown up). Only person that uses it is my family is like, my grandpa and its to ny grandma. My grandma calls him BY NAME its actually crazy. We tend to use more double names? Idk how to say it but for example Mu Qing would be Qing Qing, Shi Qingxuan would be Xuan Xuan yk? My parents only call me by that, but the purpose of the nick names would be to mostly shorten the names becus most ppl have 3 character names. So unfortunately someone like Xie Lian(who has a 2 character name) would be refered to mostly as Xie Lian and not A-Lian or lian lian😭 And! The "A" prefix isn't only used from the last character! Sqx can also be refered to as A-qing as well as A-xuan, as well as A-qingxuan(its complicated)

For family stuff, younger siblings usually never refer to older ones by name. Like sqx would call swd ge ge, wu du ge, du gege but never outright Wudu.

And i also found out u wrote cheap villain??? I owe everything to you its so WELL WRITTEN?? AND THE PLOT?? ITS SO GOOD KIKE KSJDJD BUTTtttt one thing i've actually wondered is like accents. Like in english, ppl who speak mandarin tend to have accents! And ppl in BeiJing have a very prominent one. First time i tried talking to someone in BeiJing i had trouble understanding cus even tho we were speaking the same language it sounded so different! The tcgf donghua actually sounds a lot more similar to tawainese than like native mandarin cus it sounds so clean cut, if ykwim??? Like the pronunciation in the donghua is GOODDD and so SHARP(i may be jealous). BeiJing mandarin tends to sound more round and so I would've liked to see like, mu qing waking up in a whole new reality, starts speaking, and xie lian is like: "huh? What? Mu qing, SLOW DOWN WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?" I think it would've been funny, in my opinion😭😭 (do i sound fussy again i hope this comes off as light hearted😭)

I MIGHT add more cus theres actually sm more i wanna say but im gonna leave it at here i hope it isn't TOO long😭 ur welcome ti ask me anything u want to know cus I LOVE talking abt my culture!!! Hopefully this isn't too boring for u😭

This wasnt boring at all!!! I love learning about different societies, it really fascinates me!! I'm from England and South Africa, so both my cultures are very modern western (living in the UK doesn't help) so I'm utterly at a loss with Chinese culture aside from deep-diving on the internet and doing my own research lol :')

The nickname thing is very interesting and i didn't know that!! tysm for telling me :D I know I've used it quite a bit in Cheap Villain but i feel I'm too far in to switch it up now TTvTT I don't want to seem like I'm abruptly changing things, and making the story inconsistent!

The stuff about the shi siblings is very helpful!! I shall be sure to remember that 🫡🫡

I've only recently started hearing about the accents thing, I'm afraid :')) If i had known when i first started writing Cheap Villain, I definitely would've done something about it lol! it was such a good joke opportunity missed o(TヘTo) Hopefully, I'll find somewhere to put it in, because that'd be very fun :D

I absolutely loved hearing all this!! feel free to send as many as you'd like :D I am aware I really don't know much about other cultures and I'm always happy to learn more anytime :))

Im so glad you enjoy Cheap Villain!! I've been trying my best haha

tysm anon!! :D

[dreamsister81]

Jeff on high school:

What was it like for you growing up? Were you a misfit? Or were in the "in crowd?"

"I hated high school! I don't know, really wear it (being a misfit) as a badge of honor. My family would always be moving so I was always the new guy in town. Any school I went to, I would always be introduced to the class, (angrily)...which by the way, teachers, is a stupid thing to do. By being in front of the class, I would be judged at hand immediately. I could see which person wanted to kick my ass, which weren't the ones who got their asses kicked, and which ones did the ass-kicking. So, each time I had to start the process over and over again, and I was always singled out. Kids are cold and disgusting because they learn it all from their parents. The last place I ended up going to school was Orange County High...f-cking Orange Curtain! Hangin' outwith the good ol' Nazi youth! By then, I was skipping school to play clubs."-from Inside Edge

.

.

.

"High school was a joke. I knew it was completely superfluous when I stepped in. Not the information, but the people."-Raygun Magazine

.

.

.

"I've had run-ins with it on the very street level, just kids. Like, going to school with kids that are highly, highly diluted. I had a friend, for a long time, and we rode the bus together at high school and she said something about there were only two black people in the whole school and I'd been to so many different schools and lots of situations and finally, by some twist of fate I end up in Anaheim behind the Orange curtain and there were like two black kids in the whole school, two or three. And this girl said something that made me smell that she was kind of prejudice and I said, 'do you actually think that black people are inferior to white people?' and when she said 'yes,' I called her something I've never called any woman ever. I called her a 'cunt.' 'You stupid, fucking, blah blah blah. I can't believe that you...' and it wasn't her fault at that point, she was very young.

"At some point you really have to look at what it does. In every human being, in everything someone tells you, either they tell you they love you or they tell you they think that you're stupid or that you're ugly or you're wrong. And you can defend youself by saying, 'well, I'm not, you know. I'm worthy. People love me and there are people I love in my life,' but there's something that always listens. Something in there. So people that are hurling racial epitaphs, it still hurts on both sides, on any side. Wasp, spick, kike, whatever, faggot, john, bastard, every single human being and nobody's exempt. Not one person, not even Ghandhi. But he saw it in himself. The thing is, in order to be affected by it in other people you have to have it in yourself. Everybody has the same components it's just that certain things take the stage at certain given times in their character. So, a prominently, hate-oriented family is going to breed a real violent kid. There's honor in him and there's love in him but it's just that it's squanched down in the mix." UR Magazine, September, 1994

.

.

.

"I've always been a loner. I felt-I still feel-ackward, clumsy, ugly. So I didn't go out. Being alone was a way of not getting attached to a place or people: I could leave overnight without any regret. I was always a stranger who watches with disgust at guys his age talking like their fathers. I walked a lot, smoked a lot-all those things that took me away from my schoolwork. Suddenly, I decided to do nothing anymore at school. A teacher had explained to us the bell curve grading system, a kind of upward levelling. If I worked hard and got good grades on the exams, my success would benefit the dunces in my class, pull them up. It was inconceivable that I would do anything to help those fat bastards who were only thinking of beating me up at lunchtime. So I rested my arms, waiting for the first-class eggheads to kill themselves trying to raise the average. That didn't stop me from reading and learning at home. My great shame is that I was a class leader, that I represented these losers, that I compromised myself with the system. I had the longest hair in school, I was constantly called a faggot. One day, after a hockey game, I took the scissors and cut off my hair. My only regret is that I never told Ruth Wilcox-my European history teacher-how much she meant to me. They all hated me at my high school and I despised their ignorance. It was inconceivable to work with with these monsters, to live among them, to lead an existence identical to theirs."

Did you already write then ?

"At the time, I didn't even realize how frustrated I was. When I wrote, I felt good, safe. It was by writing that I realized how inadequate I was. I grew up in Anaheim, the city of Disneyland, a well-off Judeo-Christian suburb...God, did I hate those motherfuckers...and they made me pay dearly for it. Writing was a real pain because, little by little, I discovered myself. And it wasn't a pretty sight. I was immature, I was very disappointed in myself."-Les Inrockuptibles, October, 1994

.

.

.

“I was pretty much raised on marijuana and rock and roll,” he says. This would have made Buckley popular almost anywhere else, but he went to high school in conservative Orange County, California. “I had long, long hair and weird clothes,” he says. “the 'prize students’ called me fag and beat me up.”-Village Voice, November 14, 1994

.

.

.

"I grew up mainly in Southern California, mostly in little white trashville towns overrun by Burger Kings, malls, Bloods and Crips and high taxes," he remembers. "Just me, my mom, and my little brother, mainly, moving from one place to the next, depending on what relationship, job, break-up was happening at the time. We moved so often I just used to put all my stuff in paper bags. My childhood was pretty much marijuana and rock and roll," he says. "I had the longest hair and the weirdest clothes-the kids at my high school use to call me 'that faggot' and beat me up all the time."-Sky International, July, 1995

Loara 📷: me

[retrievablememories]

moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol 

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

--

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch. 

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner. 

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

--

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

--

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again. 

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved. 

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.

[dickgreyson]

dearest symeona

i’d like to join your little discussion and fill you in, since you were watching cat videos last year and seemed to miss everything. sounds like a much nicer time than i was having! because at the time i was being sent death threats and anti semitic hate for a holding a fairly uncontroversial opinion, or at least in the circles in which i run.

yes, i got upset seeing damian in a santa hat. because for the last few years, my dash every christmas is pretty jam packed full of christmas themed batfam posts and art. and as a jewish person, understanding that the creators of bruce and most of the batfam are jewish, i found this to be quite confusing and hurtful. and let’s just get this out of the way, bruce is jewish. dc has even published articles about this, and has confirmed it in a pussy way. but even without that, his mother, kate’s maternal aunt, is a jew. that means that bruce is a jew. unless he takes real concrete steps to renounce his faith and community, ethnically he’s still jewish. and he can be an atheist and STILL BE JEWISH. there are actually atheist rabbis, who just really love our culture and tradition, want to have a central role in the community, and guide other jews in a positive direction. and thats actually pretty wonderful. because again, judaism is just as much an ethnicity as it is a religion.

over the years, christians have written bruce as catholic and christian and atheist, and a broad range of other things. hell, in the 80s the phrase ‘caped crusader’ was coined by a christian writer, and i dont love hearing him referred to as that. i think it goes against the very core of why he was created as a jewish allegory. the same goes for people who believe superman is a jesus allegory - he isnt. he was written as a modern day moses parallel. also by jewish authors. he’s a jewish character to his core too. the author of the 1990whatever robin run even said he wanted tim to be jewish, and showed his mother in a jewish cemetery. its not as if intent isnt there.

comics as a whole were created by jewish people, to tell jewish stories to a wider audience. yes, there is some old official art of bruce and dick standing in front of a christmas tree. and that might maybe be because.... it was from the 40s. and i dont know if you noticed but in the 40s americans werent really fond of jews, and neither was the world at large. judging by the response of people in my inbox, they still arent. so these characters can still be jewish allegories, written by jewish people to convey jewish ideals and stories, in an antisemitic world. back then this lipservice needed to be paid in the name of assimilation, and i would have hoped today the need for this would have diminished. 

i hope thats enough context to introduce what happened last year, i was upset that it was all going to start again, and made it known. the artist even reached out to me, and listened to my point of view. because this actually, at the end of the day, isnt a huge deal. and im not sure why it grew, and why other people got involved, when the artist, urs, and i had sorted it out. it became a lightning rod for ‘free speech/art’ anti semitic crusaders.

what is a huge deal though is the hate and vitriol and racism and anti semitism that poured out of the people who associate with your side. Urs, my brave friend who vocally stood by me, received countless hateful messages about her being a survivor and a first nations american. i cant even count how many times i was called a kike.

so the real problem here wasnt the santa hat, it was that a jewish and native american person expressed unhappiness about something, and was met with a disgusting display of hate. thats the problem. that your side was so ready to resort to death threats and slurs. because someone expressed an opinion.

I believe that there is a difference between a person choosing to celebrate a holiday, and a non jewish artist drawing jewish/created by jewish people’s characters celebrating christian holidays. because the jewish person has a choice, but the character does not. at this point in time, there are very few practicing jewish and muslim characters in comics, and in media at large. so i dont think it’s appropriate to make everything christian and say no big deal. i think its more important to display diversity in faith and culture, even if dc is reticent because of cultural antisemitism at large.

when it comes to damian, i can’t speak to that with the same certainty and intensity as i can to the others, since im not muslim. but i do know that several writers have intended him to be muslim (again never committing in canon because comic fans are obviously not very progressive people), and muslim members of this fanbase have really connected with him. and i think showing art where he is muslim, and practices that in a loving and meaningful way, is way more significant and impactful than drawing him in a fucking santa hat.

it is actually very important for jewish people to conserve and practice our culture, and to be vocal about doing so. because people have tried to take it away from us time and time again. so to just brush this aside and say that ‘christmas is a coca cola ad so who cares’ (?) isnt good enough. because we were killed for practicing chanukah, so now its really important that we do. that we remember our tradition, and we pass it on. that we dont allow it to be wallpapered over in the name of assimilation.

all that needed to have happened was for someone to accept and admit that these are characters created by jewish people, to tell jewish stories, and act accordingly and respectfully.

so the problem, in the end, was that i was viciously and ruthlessly attacked for being a jewish woman with an opinion on something, and 10 months later deciding to get involved? i think thats a bad look babe xx

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 27)

She is nervous, she has never done this before. It is a strange sort of nervousness, an excited, kind nervousness…

Her hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders. Shoulders that are tan with a week's work of hard work. But she doesn't think that Hajime will mind. He never seems bothered by that sort of thing. In fact, she'd wager that he finds it more attractive.

She adjusts her robe, she tries to pretend kike it is a fine silk but her mind is no good for pretending and faking that sort of thing, not when she is lucid enough to distinguish cotton from silk. She supposed that she is at least a fair bit disappointed; she would have liked to have been better dressed for the occasion. Even if the occasion is taking her right out of the robes.

He had let her fashion the room and it's atmosphere to her liking. We're she at the palace she would have had more options. More aesthetics to arrange. All she has here are a couple of candles and a few flower petals to sprinkle here and there. But she isn't find of flower petals. So she simply lights the candles and lays herself upon the bed.

She supposes that there is a perk in this simplicity, in having nothing but each other and flickering candlelight.

There is no distraction. No extra flavor. It will be just her touch and his. And she thinks that maybe that is exactly how she wants it anyhow.

She holds her hand against her chest and waits for the door to open. She wonders if there is something that she should be doing while she waits. Perhaps she should find a more tantalizing position to lay in.

She sits back up. The door opens before she has a chance to do anything more. He sits upon the mattress. For a while he sits in silence, taking her in as she takes him in. A smile spreads across his face. He tucks her bangs behind her ear and kisses her, caressing her cheek. "You look beautiful, Rikka."

"Tonight?"

His hands slide down her back "Every night."

That night she learns that there is beauty in simplicity. Love in scarcity.

.oOo.

She hasn't missed Hajime and Atsu this furiously since her stay at Chin.

"Rikka! Rikka! Look at this!" The girl holds Bao up. "Rikka!"

Each chant of her former moniker comes like a stab. Each as painful as the next. Each resurfaces another memory. A memory of a kinder night where Atsu called her in much the same way.

"Look at what?" She tries to muster up a smile that refuses to come all the way.

"I made a smaller Bao to go with the big Bao! So that way Atsu and I…"

Azula grits her teeth and holds the heels of her hands to her eyes. "Atsu can't play with you anymore Caihong…"

"Why not?"

Oh Agni, how is she supposed to tell her? She doesn't know. She has no idea… And Spirits Azula can't bring herself to say it even if she can find the words.

Azula doesn't realize that she is crying until Caihong asks, "what's wrong?"

She cringes. Takes a shuddering breath. Oh Agni she wishes that Sokka we're here to take the girl away. Her head hurts, her stomach is queasy…

"What's wrong, Rikka?"

"My name's not Rikka!" She snaps. Caihong flinches back and the bangs in Azula's stomach intensify.

Caihong's lower lip trembles.

"No. Caihong don't do that." She runs her hands over her face.

But it's too late the girl is weeping very openly and Azula isn't sure what to do. Not when her own heart is severing. Not when she has her own rears to shed. But she has still made the girl cry. She wonders what kind of mother she would have been to Atsu and Juro; would she have made them cry over something so trivial?

Another gasping sob escapes her lips. Caihong wails over it.

"Geez! What's going on in here?" Sokka throws the door open.

"Rikka yelled at me!"

Azula clenches her teeth and covers her ears with her hands.

"I'm not Rikka." It comes out as more if a squeak. "Stop calling me Rikka." Agni, please! She collapses back onto the mattress breathing heavily. The memories bombard her, Atsu's cheerful voice as he shakes her awake for the first springtime festival, Seukhyun calling her from across the turnip crops, Ojihara scolding her for paying more mind to Hajime than her job, Hajime calling her to join him on the bridge... Hajime asking her to help him carry something heavy, Hajime asking her to watch Atsu, Hajime reassuring her…

Hajime murmuring her name as he slips his hand under her shirt, as he takes it off, as he loves her more than anyone has and in a way she had only ever let him do… Rikka. Rikka. Rikka...

She thinks that she might be rocking herself. Rocking and sobbing uncontrollably. She only stops when Sokka takes her in his arms.

"I just wanted her to stop calling me Rikka…" she mumbles. "That's all…" it isn't all, not even close. She just wants Hajime and Atsu back.

How could she even consider pursuing Sokka!? The man reaches out and she swats his arm away.

"Azula…"

"Go away!" Her voice is terrifyingly shrill. "Just leave me!" She falls back against the mattress. Caihong's cries almost overpower her own

"Can you take Caihong for a while?" Sokka asks.

"Yeah, I got her." When had Zuzu shown up? There are too many people in the room. There is too much noise and yet it can overstep the noise in her mind. She grips her head tighter.  She sees Sokka reaching out to her again, he hesitates. Likely he is torn between wanting to help her and wanting to obey her silent command to stay away.

Things go fuzzy from there. She can’t remember exact things. Just snippets of pain and distress.

.oOo

He didn't leave her that night. He took a good fireball to the arm but he didn't leave. At one point he had to wrestle her to the floor but he didn't leave. She screamed for him to leave until her voice broke. He didn't leave.

She screams all sorts of things at him that night, some of which he can’t make out at all. He didn’t leave.

He wishes that he knew why she was trying to push him away when she could use support the most. She is lucky that he chose not to listen.

The next morning is somehow harder. She lies almost unmoving, mumbling very adamant that she is a horrible person. That she only hurts people, that Caihong doesn't like her anymore. That Caihong shouldn’t like her. And after all of that work it had taken to convince her that she is a good woman… He supposes that it is going to come up now and again.

"Zuko talked to her." He promises. "He told her that Astu and Hajime are...gone and that it makes you really angry and sad sometimes…"

"That's no excuse."

"He also told her that you don't like being called Rikka because it reminds of of things and those things make you said. I don't think that she's going to call you Rikka anymore."

Azula rubs her eyes with her sleeves. For a moment he thinks that she will get up, instead she sniffs and turns her back to him.

He reaches out and she flinches, this time she doesn't try to wars him off. "Why don't we go do some gardening?" He tries.

"I don't feel like it, Sokka." She mumbles from the bed, her voice muffled by the bed sheets.

"Well you're not going to just lay there." He mutters as he hoists her upright. Protests be damned he just knows that he has to get her out if bed.

"Sokka, stop it."

"I don't think so! You have to show Caihong the strawberries."

"Sokka she doesn't want to see me…"

"Really?" He quirks a brow "Because she's been asking, 'how's Zula' all morning."

"I made her cry, Sokka."

He laughs, "She's a kid! Do you know how easy it is to make those cry? All you have to do is say, 'no dessert' and then they cry. In their defense, I do too. Now let's get up." He gives her a nudge.

Azula sighs, a shuddering little breath and he worries that she may flip back down and resume her own crying. Instead she wipes her eyes with her sleeves and let's him pull her to her feet. She isn't quite steady on them but at least he has gotten her out of bed. He lets her lean very heavily against him as he leads her to the palace garden. "Trust me, I think that some fresh air is going to be good for you. You can teach Caihong to garden since I'm a lost cause there." He chuckles.

Azula offers only a soft nod. If nothing else, she is getting some fresh air. But he thinks that speaking with Zuko, Mai, TyLee, and Caihong will do her a lot of good.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 14

“Everyone calm down, everyone calm down, King Ben will be here soon.” Ben heard Evie warily shush into the microphone, trying to quiet the agitated crowd in the auditorium.

Ben hurriedly tried to straighten his collar which only got mussed further by his frantic hands, butterflies were alreayd beating furiously in his stomach at the thought of trying to convince this mob that there was no time to beat around the bush and bring Villain children four at time every year or so. They needed to bring them all over now. It was the right thing to do.

All without mentioning the current Coven situation on the Isle since it would only serve to panic everyone.

Not that he was already panicking himself. The commincators he had given them had suddenly cut off and though Carlos and Jane assured him that maybe it was just the climate messing with the technology and they shouldn’t jump to conclusions.. That was what he was doing. The last time they had contacted him, it was to say they had teamed up with Uma and now they mysteriously couldn’t be reached.

Uma could be holding them captive or worse. He knew all the girl wanted was to get the kids off the Isle so hopefully if he was able to pass this reform, he would be able to appease them. And hopefully Harry hadn’t hooked them first at of spite.

“Hey.” Ben felt Mal’s slender cold fingers stop his hands and felt her nuzzle against his neck, “You’re going to do great. You’re a good king.”

Ben couldn’t help but relax as Mal wrapped her arms around him. “Thanks.”

They had had a long talk after Cotillion. Mainly about the stresses they each had been dealing with and they had ignored each other. Miscommunication bred bad blood and they had promised to talk things out more and not hide it under the surface or erase it from his mind.

For Mal, he allowed her to cut back on some of her royal cosort duties and would start adding more responsibilities when she got the hang of it.

He couldn’t do such a thing being the King of the land, but Mal’s most important self-appointed duty was to help him relax and destress and provide moral support as he had helped her when she came to Auradon. He had told her over and over that she didn’t need to do it like an obligation but Mal was stubborn.

He loved that about her.

Ben turned and kissed her full on the lips enjoying the sweet strawberry taste and the slight bite she gave on his lips, “Now go out there.”

Ben knew a goofy smile was spreading on his face but he couldn’t help it. He always felt a little breathless and punchdrunk when he was in her presence. She was just so magnetic and wonderful and…

“You got to go out there now.” Mal gently but firmly pushed him in the direction of thepodium where Evie was waiting.

“Right. Right.” Ben smoothed down his face and approched. There none of the usual applause that accompined his entrence which spoke to how the people were feeling about Evie’s new idea.

The butterflies beat faster and Ben felt his knees buckle which he tried his best to hide by clutching the podium.

“Hello everyone. As I’m sure you’ve read from Evie’s recent email that we plan to bring over all the villain children from the Isle. Recent surveys of the land show it is not a fit enviroment for adults, even worse so for children.” He turned so Evie could take over as they practiced.

Evie smoothed down the paper she held and cleared her throat. “I put all the details within the document I sent all of you. But a quick overview.”

“Statistics show that every eyar at least 200 kids die on the Isle from lack of nutrition, dehydration, disease like..”   “We don’t need to know how they died. It’s good riddence!” Chad Charming shouted.

Evie’s mouth popped open and she shot a glare but her voice remained even, “No child deserves to die. No matter who their parents are.” “Sounds like someone’s a little bias.” Another voice heckled.

“Yeah, some villain kids are villain kids. Like Uma. She nearly destroyed us all!”

“She ruined my dress!” “I almost fell off the boat.” “And we’re going to let more of their kind come over?” “If.. if you all just look over to page 56 of the document, I detailed a plan for bringing them over and to prevent any incidents like Uma’s happening again. These kids just need guidence. And more importantly, food and shelter.” Evie tried to raise her voice but panic had overtaken the room and was getting to Ben too making the butterflies feel more like frantic bats scratching at his stomach.

It was happening again. Sweat began to drip down his neck and his trembling knees soon spread down the rest of his legs until he felt kike he was going to fall over. He couldn’t breath. He was losing control of the room and his body. Ben forced himself to breath through his nose though every one of his senses told him to run away while he still could.

Yet another feeling was rising beside the anxiety. The anger. The ferocious anger that made so many servants and even his mother fear his father. Why so many people still referred to him as the Beast.

The anger was unbecoming of a King but sometimes Ben clung to it. It was a strong force amid the tide of anxiety threatening to drown him. It made him feel in control, it helped him focus on getting everyone to shut up and listen!

“EVERYONE!” Ben bellowed into the microphone stunning the auditorium to silence.

“Everyone,” Ben repeated at a slightly lower volume but not bothering to hide the anger behind it, “It seems that no one here wants to act like the prince or princess they are and politely listen to Evie’s idea. Fine. You can all say whatever prejudiced arguments you want against the idea or why we should accept it. We will listen, we will take it under consideration. But I am King and I assure you, I plan to pass this law. It’s your choice if you want to read the document and understand all the facts and accept what is coming or you don’t have to. You can stew in your fear instead.”

No one seemed to know what to do or say and that loud silence was what snapped Ben back to his senses and realized what he had just done. He had lost control again. He acted immaturely and irrationally.

He acted like a little boy playing ruler instead of understanding the views and fears of the people he was serving. Even if he didn’t agree with some of them, he should have listened, not shut them down to get his own way.  

Now he really wished he could run away but all he could do was cling to the podium and ask, “Please state any concerns or wishes you have for the program. In a civilized manner.”

He heard a voice clear his throat and a dark skinned hand wave in the air.

“Yes, Prince Thaddeus Thatch Nedakh,” Ben called, proud of himself for being able to pronunce the tricky Atlantean name correctly.

“I read through your document and I find it very well thought out. It really is a detailed plan that I think is doable,” Thaddeus said more to the rest of the audience’s benefit than to compliment Evie but Evie still beamed, “However, I feel.. That maybe it is too much to do at once. I mean, it’s just, your Majesty. You still have several problems to deal with within Auradon. Like the rampant tourism that is destroying Atlantica,”

“Here, here!” one of the mermaid’s daughters called out.

“The Magic Ban that is affected almost half of the population. We, at Atlantis need magic as our life source. We can’t hide it away or surpress it for the sake of Auradonian progress. It is part of our culture and heritage. You’re trying to make everything uniform and have our kingdoms subsumed into one another, but it can’t work that way for us.” Thaddeus stated, nervously swishing his white bangs.

“If I may add to that,” Prince Pachacuti bounced up, non-too discreetly squeezing his boyfriend’s hand in a show of support, “While we at Kuzcotopia appreciate your cool things like tvs and video games and smoothies, we don’t like you trying to get all grabby grabby with our gold. That’s ours. Also-”

“What Pach is trying to say,” Thaddeus interrupted before Pachacuti could go off topic like he was wont to do, “While helping kids is noble, there are still some things we need to fix here in Auradon before we help others, and we should devote our resources to that instead.”

“Thank you.” Evie nodded, “Anyone else.” It seemed Thaddeus and Pachacuti broke the ice for more hands raised this time but before Evie could call on anyone, Chad shouted his opinion again.

“They’re right. Auradon should be considered first. Our kingdoms, our families!” “Some of those trapped on the Isle are part of our family. Like your cousin, Dizzy, is she not?” Herkakleides jumped up before turning to the crowd, “My extended family wish to free Hadie and possibly even Hades from the Isle. They are our family and holding grudges usually leads to worse consequences. Trust us, the gods know a thing or two about grudges backfiring.”

His younger sister, Madora, stood up next,“Also, Aunt Persephone would truly love to be reuinted with her husband. Yes, what he did to our parents was wrong, but we believe in taking the higher road and a greater cause. I’m not suggesting we let all the adult villains free. But the god of death and the underworld provides a certain balance to the world that is needed.”

“I have something to add.” An older voice called.

“Yes,” Evie pointed. It was clear she was happy with the people standing up for her idea.

A prim older woman with striking dark eyebrows stood up. Lady Waltham ie Clayton’s sister. She was one of the ones who were to be sent to the Isle but she had recieved a formal pardon from the Tarzan-Porter family. Ever since then, she and her daughter, Dame Rebecca, had been the most vocal activists against the Isle and she often showed up at events like these if it was out of her way.

“I, too, wish to be reunited with my nephew. I can’t speak to letting my brother free. He had made his own choices. But Clay was born there among those savages and criminals and I know he has done nothing to deserve it. If he has murdered anyone or thing while he was on the Isle, I’m sure it was because he had to. If he had been allowed to grow up here, he wouldn’t have. The difference in lifestyle and upbringing would have made all the difference. So though I did not get my nephew back then, I still wish for him to come now. He and all the other Isle children. They should be free.” Lady Waltham proclaimed to applause and quite a few hises and boos.

“I have a counterargument.” Another british voice piped up, Victoria, Tarzan and Jane’s eldest daughter, “While it’s true some villain kids wouldn’t be so evil if they had been raised correctly from the beginning, who says we can change them now. They have been raised by the same villains that have tried to kill our families. Some haven’t tried, some succeeded like when Clayton killed Kerchak. And you’re right about grudges because if those same villains still hold grudges against us, they would pass those grudges against their children.” 

“They raised them to be manipulative and decietful and evil. It’s merely a matter of security that we keep them at bay. Maybe we can’t help these children, but we can save their grandchildren. Taking those kids off the Isle now would be cruel to survivors. How would Queen Rapunzel like to deal with a little copy of her Mother dearest? Or Quasimoda and Esmeralda face another predatory figure in their life? No. No way! These kids should not be free.”

Jane stood up, the formerly shy fairy’s eyes were blazing, “How dare you say that when you know nothing about how they have been raised!”

Ben could see Evie tense up beside him and could imagine what she was thinking. And if he couldn’t imagine what Evie was thinking, he could see it plainly on Carlos’ harrowed face in the front row. Freddie Facilier looked ready to fight and Ben knew she was thinking about her own neglectful father while Ally patted her hand comfortingly. 

Some children had been raised and encouraged to be copies of their parents like Mal and Evie. But others were considered burdans. Punching bags. Abused and neglected and all other awful sorts of things. Just to ignore their plight because of a few bad apples, it made him want to go Beast all over again. Maybe then they would know what fear was like because that’s how Carlos felt whenever Cruella yelled at him.

He had wanted Carlos to come up to speak and share his experiences to garner sympathy for the plan but he knew he couldn’t ask the boy that. The trauma was still personal and raw to him and it would be cruel for him to talk about it if he wasn’t ready which Carlos told him he wasn’t when Evie asked.

He supposed he could ask Evie but her story of being pressured by her mother was too similar to other princesses in Auradon like Audrey who were used to conforming and plucking for beauty.

He had to admit, Evie, Mal, and Jay did have tough lives. But it sounded a bit better than most. Their parents cared enough to give them food and encourage them to be the worst. None of theirs was a story of being a burdenful orphan.

Probably because those orphans were dead.

Another voice clearing her throat snapped Ben out of his reverie.

“Yes, Esmeralda.” “Thank you, your Majesty.” Esmeralda stood up with her shoulders back and proud gaze, “I would thank Victoria Porter to keep her opinion based on the stories that she know and not use mine to construct her argument. It is not her story to tell. While I do not want Frollo strolling around Auradon hurting other my people, I am for the children being removed from the Isle. It is a type of oppression to segregate and despise these kids simply because of who they belong to. If you truly want to prevent more Claude Frollos than open your heart to people who are not like you. Do not judge them as monsters, do not be cruel to those who are most in need of your help. That is true justice.”

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

“Meow.” Zevon meowed.

“Well I’ll admit, it’s anticlimatic but it was the best I could do on such short notice.” Calix said as he, Uma and Ginny stared at the small purple cat with a fitting leather jacket that was formerly the teenager known as Zevon.

“You can change people into animals!” Ginny screeched, clutching her hair like she thought he was about to turn it into a bunch of snakes or somethhing. Though he did muse on the idea a bit. She had the same screechy hiss Medusa did.

“Yeah I can, magic works here on the Isle. I can also hyptonize with my singing. Part siren.” Calix puffed his chest proudly, “And I am….Son of Circe. Patent pending.”

That was all Ginny needed to know because she ran into the nearest room and with the click of a lock they knew she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“Is he going to stay that way?” Uma asked reaching to pet Zevon but drew back when the kitten raised its hackles.

“Probably not since there are a bunch of people that can change him back here. But still… I thought it was poetic justice. Like a mother, like son.”

In more ways than one Calix mused to himself.

He remembered that changing people to animals was one of the firsy spells his mother taught. The one she was infamous for. Sort of his birthright.

Though what was more of a birthright was the right to have his mother with him. Wasn’t that the right of everyone in Auradon and on the Isle? Wasn’t that why Mother Gothel stealing Rapunzel was such a heinous crime. For the pain she caused King Fredric and Queen Arianna.

Did King Beast and his supporters think one second how it felt for Circe, a supposed villieness to have her son ripped away from her to live on this stinking wasteland. Or him, the innocent child, that had always depended on his mother to suddenly have the living with a family friend situation become permenant.

No.

It was all black and white for these guys. All or nothing. He always theorized that that was the reason why Auradonians were such prudes when it came to visiting Greece. The naked statues and stories of gods sleeping around and smiting was so scandalous and primitive to them. They didn’t get that there were shades of grey. Humans, gods, sorcerers, centaurs, whatever creature. They had their good and bad sides.

“Zevon what have we told you! No duels! We’re the ones in charge here!” A loud commanding voice called down the hallway, her shadow coming closer and closer and there was nowhere for them to hide without being heard or noticed.

The stunning yet imposing figure of Queen Nerissa appeared in front of them and for a moment. No one moved. She stared at them in shock then green fire burst from her mouth.

It was all so fast and the light blinded them that they could only see flashes of the fire that lit up the hallway, jumping from the torches and sparking on the bricks.

The flames licked their legs and Calix fell to the floor feeling the searing pain burn his pants only to feel more burns on his hands as he hit the floor.

He cautiously looked up to see that Queen Nerissa turned into a large purple dragon whose fangs came closer then he would have liked.

He raised his hand, a spell on his lips or a hypnotic song but his throat was closed. He couldn’t speak with the dry lump clogging his throat.

The dragon picked him up by the collar in a surprisingly gentle man compared to Uma who he heard a loud curse and looked behind to see her being picked up by the dragon’s tail uslessly throwing her captain hat out the window.

There was not much to do when Queen Nerissa literally had a big advantage over them but Calix did his best to memorize his surroundings if they ever escaped.

Instead of transforming back to a human at the door to the tower, Queen Nerissa unwisely stayed in her form, breaking the door’s frame as she squeezed her large body through it and lumbered down the stairs to the bottom floor. She broke through the iron door that led to the lowest floor which was the dungeon.

The room was damp, dark, mold growing on the brick walls. Standard dungeon aesthetic. Cells lining three walls of the room. It was surpriseingly full with what looked like corpses considering their opaque pallor but from the low, steady moaning and groaning it was clear that they were still alive prisoners. For now.

The sight made Calix feel queasy especially that of the cell he was staring directly in front of. It was a female form, he thought, under the shapeless bag of cloth. Her arms disjointed at odd angles and tied behind her head with iron chains connected to the wall. Her legs were not visible until he realized that there was a pool of blood where her legs must have been and made the connection of what must have happened.

The broken woman made Calix completely miss the two lone figure standing in the middle of the room. The tall, slender one was a man in a crisp new French Legion army outfit while the other was a teen boy, reaching up to the officer’s neck, in a silk white suit that seemed to sparkle against his combed ginger hair.

Both turned to witness Queen Nerissa’s entrence with them and smiled.

“New prisoners.” The general asked without much question in his voice. More like he was looking for confirmation to an obvious answer.

Queen Nerissa changed back to her human form, her jaws dropping Calix undignifedly to the ground with Uma.

“Possibly, Staquait. Their mothers will probably want to deal with them.” Queen Nerissa said and stalked out of the room.

There was no mistaking the groan of disappointment emitting from the ginger haired boy. It seemed out of place in this grim dungeon. Like he had just heard he wouldn’t get a new toy.

“Patience, Lars.” The officer glared at his charge, smacking the whip by his hip.

Uma growled under her breath at the name which brought the boy’s attention to them. Not a pleasent feeling.

He looked like an angry harpy to Calix. His eyes were cold like a bird of prey and full of crazed glee.

“Hello, Uma. Your friend Gil told me so much about you. Glowing compliments really. How brave you are, how smart you are. How strong and unbreakable ....” Calix waited for the inevitable “wham” line or classic villain threat. Quiet sadistic types like this guy always had some sort of line that was supposed to strike fear into their hearts.

It seemed Uma was waiting for the line too because she looked like she was surpressing a yawn. That earned a colder look in Lars’ eyes though his genial smile betrayed nothing that he was irrited by Uma’s lack of response.

“After hearing so much from Gil, I wondered. How strong and unbreakable are you? Physically, I mean. I’m sure you’re very emotionally tough dealing with the sea witch.”

“Tell me...How do you find the feel of a whip against your back?”

Uma made no response to Lars’ question, she stared straight ahead as if she hadn’t heard which Calix had a feeling wasn’t going to fly with Lars. He was going to continue prodding until Uma snapped or answered the question.

So he answered for him, as cheerful a voice as he could muster, “Strangely titilating.”

Staqauit who had wandered away from the tension between the three to obsserve some poor prisoner struggling with a heavy rock on his chest, came back to watch the proceedings that elicited such a strange response.

Lars’ eyes were truly expressive, Calix thought to himself. They showed everything the boy was thinking even when his face was frozen in a semi-permenant smile.

“Titilating?” “Yes. I’ve been experimenting with whip play with my partners. Usually I’ve been dominant but then I decided I would give it a try and It. Feels. Wonderful!” Staqauit and Lars looked at each other as if they weren’t sure what to make of his answer. If he was being genuine or lying his ass off.

Calix bit the inside of cheek to keep from smiling too much. That might make them think he was bluffing when he really wasn’t. Usually the titillation depended on whether the other person knew what he or she or they was doing. 

But it was certainly fun catching the villains off guard like this. He had always wondered about those wise cracking heroes. How they were always able to make a joke or insult their nemesis when their very lives were at stake.

Nos he understood why they did it. It was fun being a troll.

Sitting himself up in a cross-legged position Calix continued with his solo conversation, thinking of everything he usually did during his date nights. “I also enjoy the flogging. So if you’re going to do the flogging, I would like to be told ahead of time so I could whip up some oils for aftercare.”

“Where is he?” A breathless voice came from the doorway.

Calix and Uma turned simulatenously to see Circe and Ursula entering the room.

Calix’s heart lept into his throat and all thoughts of trolling and whipping and the Isle and danger faded away.

It was his mom!

Calix ran to her, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs, pressing his face against her shoulder to hide the tears that were forming. She smelled just the same. Of sea salt and magic sulfur from her potions. And she felt the same. Warm. Oh so warm. He hadn’t hugged her much, he thought he was too old for that, but it had been what he had missed most when she was gone. Hugging her, he felt safe and loved and he didn’t care if the castle burned to the ground around them or if Auradon was invaded. He had his mom again.

“Calix” Circe said that one name, but all the emotion behind it said everything he needed to know. She missed him too and the months apart had been unbearable.

“You’re certainly not punishing my son for coming over to join me as he should.” Circe announced, glaring at Staqauit who scowled in response to the sorceress.

“And why are you hanging about here? You should be at the Fish and Chip Shoppe taking orders.” Ursula barreled past Calix and his mom, poking her tentacles at Uma’s chest accusingly.

“While you’re here trying to get off of the Isle? Mom, this is what I’ve been trying to do all along. Get off the Isle. I should be a part of this.” Uma declared, smacking the tentacle away from her.

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Even after you failed at those Auradonian’s stupid Cotillion, and ran off, I’ve heard you’ve come back just to try to hire one of the mercenaries to infiltrate. Go against us. Care to explain?” Ursula cracked her neck, looking at her daughter knowingly.

Uma didn’t look like she was about to answer but she sighed, “I.. I want to help the children here. The Coven.. I know what you’re doing is good but you’re making things worse for the people who don’t have powers.” “She sounds like a sweet princess. All caring and nice.” Lars laughed earning him a slap for Ursula before she turned to her daughter, moving around her until the girl was firmly tangled in her mother’s many tentacles.

“Ah yes, I know you care about those poor unfortunate souls but that’s the way it is with some people. After all, we need someone to be our servants. They don’t have powers, what else are you going to do with their lives.” “By forcing them to work.” Uma retorted.

“Like I forced you to work.” Ursula stated, “That was a good thing. I made you strong. I made you a fighter because I made you do things on your own. Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.” “Yeah I worked. Cleaned your shop while you watched soaps.” Uma snapped.

“You ingrate!”

“Stop there, you wench!” A scottish brough shoved past Calix and Circe and menancingly pointed his hook at Ursula and throwing Uma’s captain hat back to her.

“We better get out of here.” Circe motioned but Calix stood still. Now that he was reunited with mom they all could really get to business and defeat the Coven. Starting with putting Ursula, Staqauit and Lars out of comission.” “Come on, let’s blast them while they’re distracted.” Calix urged seeing as Ursula was busy batting off Harry’s hook and Staqauit and Lars had turned to attend their prisoners. However, Circe pulled him back.

“We can’t do that. We’re working with them.” Circe hissed.

“Wait you’re actually working with them to take over Auradon? But I’m here with you now. You don’t have to act like the bad guy.” Calix protested.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s just go.” Circe said.

“But..”

“Everyone stop!” 

In strode Queen La, holding her shame-faced daughter by the wrist and two spears and staffs with the other hand. “It seems the children want to stop our plans. Well I made a deal with my daughter. A duel between us. If I win, you all submit to us. If Ranavalalona wins, we’ll let you go plot from afar but I really doubt you’d succeed in anything.”

“No! We all duel or nnothing!” Harry snarled, lunging to attack the Queen but Staqauit, Ursula and Lars teamed to subdue him and wrestled him to the ground, giving Calix a clear sight of the poor prisoner that had been struggling under the rock.

Though he couldn’t see his face, he recognized the black wavy hair. Aziz.

Calix wanted to move away like his mom was urging him. He wanted to fight like his brain was screaming at him.

But he couldn’t do anything but watch.

Lala and La took their places at opposite sides of the room and ran to attack each other. Kicks and jumps beat fast between them like a fatal dance, and sparks flew whenever their spears clashed against the other. The only sound being grunts and growls and the occasional cat like screech set the cage battle atmosphere.

They seemed evenly matched with whenever the older woman hit her daughter back, Lala would retaliate with a feigned right, swinging up to catch a rotting ceiling plank to kick her mother’s chest, sending the woman across the room.

Then everything went downhill.

Their spears had been broken and discarded and Lala had her mother pinned against the wall after almost knocking her out with a headbutt.

But the wooziness was faked for La straightened up and punched her daughter in the throat. Lala fell back, choking and La made her move.

Hitting again at the sensitive throat she grabbed Lala by the neck and threw her to the ground. Calix was sure that Lala’s neck would have snapped but the girl moved just in time to go along with the blow.

With Lala on her stomach, scrambling to get back to her feet, Queen La pounced on her back and pulled both of Lala’s arms back just as the jungle girl had done to him when they first encountered her.

He grimaced with sympathy pain remembering how she had pulled his muscle unmercifully from the joint that it was connected to.

“Mother!”

La stopped and Calix hung his head in defeat. It was official.

But La wasn’t done.

She let go of Lala’s arms and allowed her to turn to her back and proceed to press her foot against her daughter’s neck.

“Mot-ugh-Mo--Mercy. Please!” Lala wheezed, grabbing desperately at the ground and her mother’s leg but La just glared.

La crouched down, not removing her foot from her daughter’s neck and bent to whisper something. Then she finished her off by knocking her unconscious.

“Staqauit, the isolation cell is where?” Queen La asked, hefting her daughter on her back.  

“I’ll lead you to it.” Staqauit lended the jungle queen his arm and they walked off.

“Come you two. I have some plans for what you two can do for me.” Ursula said leading Harry and Uma away.

“Come on, Calix.” Circe whispered solomnly and Calix allowed himself to be moved away from the dungeon. The last sight being Lars’ smile.

[phoenixmakeswords]

Dented Ch. 3--AU

Finally thought of a name for the AU.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts? Do you not want me anymore?” I ask carefully. Just asking hurts. I forgot this much pain was possible.

“What? Kristoff, of course I want you. You’re my son. I just got your texts five seconds ago. Remember I was going on that camping trip? I told you about it at the restaurant. And that I wouldn’t have cell service.”

“I feel like a dumbass.”

“I still love you. Come in. You’re not okay. What’s going on?” She leads me from the entry hall to the spacious pale blue living room.

“Besides Regan being horrible? I went to a party on Friday. Clare’s girlfriend was having at her lake house. Anyway, it happened again.” My face twists into a grimace as I sink onto the matching blue sectional. It’s much softer and more plush than mine.

“What’d Regan do? Who was it?”

I show her the text reluctantly. It gives me a little time to dredge up the courage to tell her about the party.

“I was really drunk. Blackout drunk. Clare told me today he was blond and she thought his name might be James. I remember doing shots with Clare and then I woke up in a bed.”

“Did Clare know? Did anyone try to help you?”

“Yeah, she knew. Apparently, I could be heard over the music. Nobody did anything that I know of.”

“How’re you doing with this?”

“Oh, I'm peachy. I lashed out at the one guy I actually trust. I'm cutting class because I don’t want to look at Clare right now. Things are just fabulous. Oh, and I'm not sleeping and I'm really depressed. Can’t get better.”

“Have you thought about getting help? I believe you, Kristoff. I hope you know that. I'm sorry you’re suffering.”

“Yeah, telling a stranger about this sounds great.”

“Kristoff.”

“I might be leaving the bakery.”

“I thought you loved it.”

“I sorta slept with a guy’s brother and he’s being a jerk to me about it.”

“Were you a couple?” She sounds more excited than I expected by the possibility of me having a boyfriend.

“No. Just a hookup.”

“You know that’s not safe. Are you using protection at least?”

“If they don’t wanna use a condom, I don’t sleep with them. That’s like the only rule I have.”

“At least you’re being smart.”

“How was the camping trip?” I don’t want to discuss my sex life.

“It was good. There’s something really important I need to talk to you about.”

“You found a fae village in the woods.” I smirk teasingly at her. She’s my best friend. That might make me a mama’s boy. I don’t care.

“No. I met a guy. He’s really sweet. He asked me to dinner for this Friday.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s sweet. He’s genuine. He has kids of his own. He’s very respectful.”

“Does he work?”

“He’s a video game designer.”

“How’d you meet him? Was he a client?”

“His sister is my best friend. He came on the trip with us. The poor thing, he was the only man there. We started talking and we just…clicked.”

“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” The idea fills me with horror.

“Kristoff!”

“Now you know how I felt.”

“You’re a brat. If you need to not be alone, you know you can stay here.”

“I know. Ransom’s been staying since it happened. He sleeps in the guest room. And he keeps making me breakfast.”

“Do you like him?”

“Does it matter? I'm so fu—screwed-up. I mean, yeah, we slept together before it happened.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. I know that’s hard for you to believe. But you do.”

“If it hadn’t happened, he was gonna ask me out.” I sigh softly.

“And? How do you feel about that?”

“You sound like a therapist. It would’ve been nice. I mean, he’s a great person. He’s hot. He’s smart.”

“Is he still interested?”

“I think so.”

“Are you interested?”

I nod slowly. He’s someone I would like to date. Someone I could maybe be with.

“He sounds like a good guy. He might be good for you,” she tells me gently.

“He is a good guy. He deserves better than a mess like me.”

The depression has become a physical weight in my chest. What happened and the fact I don’t deserve to be happy or in a stable, healthy relationship don’t help any. I am worthless.

“Alright, you have me really worried. Kristoff, are you thinking about killing yourself?”

“I'm not quite there yet.”

“Bu you’re still really bad?”

“Yeah. I don’t get like this.”

“I know. If you need to check in somewhere, I’ll take you. You have my support.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t wanna be hospitalized. I don’t wanna start therapy. I just wanna get through this crap on my own and go on with my life.” I rub my fingers absently over my phoenix tattoo. It was the first piece of ink I got. And it’s the most meaningful. Because phoenixes rise from the ashes. No matter what I face, I'm able to bounce back eventually. Right now, I need that reminder.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re not Superman. There’s no shame in getting help.”

“I know that.”

I don’t want to need help. I know how society sees people who have mental health issues. And I don’t want them to see me that way. Ransom comes over after his shift tonight. He has a black duffel bag with him this time. Anger flickers in his jade eyes, despite his friendly smile.

“If you don’t wanna babysit me, it’s fine,” I assure him quickly.

“You’re not the problem. I like you. I met your sister.”

“How’d that go? Regan’s a nightmare, isn’t she?”

“You’re nothing alike. We’ve already butted heads.”

“So, they hired her?”

“Don’t threaten me like that. Did you know your sister doesn’t like Jews?” An edge slips into his low voice. I don’t like the distrust in his green eyes.

“No. Ransom, if I had, I would’ve told you.”

“Riley told her off. I know she’s your family and everything, but she was an utter bitch to me.”

“That would be Regan. Are you okay?” I touch his forearm gently. The sleeve of his black hoodie is soft.

“I'm irritated with her. I'm more worried about you.” He smiles gently.

“You still like me? I'm sorry she was nasty.”

“You’re not racist. You okay? I’ve dealt with it a lot.”

I shake my head quietly. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve talked about it enough today.

“What do you need? We can go do something. Or watch movies or whatever will help,” he murmurs gently.

“I'm sorry. You don’t have to stay.”

“You’re my friend. You’re in crisis. I'm not abandoning you.”

I didn’t think he’d want to stay. I know it’s inconvenient. A hassle. Which means I am. But here he is.

“Thanks.”

“How was class? Did anything interesting happen?” He sounds so genuinely interested it surprises me. Guys don’t do that.

“I walked out. Clare and I got into it and I didn’t want to look at her.” I sigh shakily. I feel like all I do anymore is break down. So much for ‘masculinity.’

“You cut class? You never do that. What happened?”

“She knew what happened. Everyone knew. And nobody tried to help me. She blamed me. I didn’t hear from her all weekend either.”

“I thought she was your friend.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe you. And it’s really crappy that they did nothing.”

“Thanks. How’d you meet my sister?”

“I did a tattoo for her. A simple rose she picked out of the book. Took twenty minutes. She argued with me about the aftercare. Called me a stupid kike. That was when Riley stepped in.” He rakes a hand through his hair.

“She should’ve never done that. You’re not stupid. And she should’ve never called you a slur. I'm sorry.”

“I didn’t get a tip. Because my people are ‘money hungry penny-pinching misers.’” He toys with his blue Star of David necklace. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s upset.

“How much was the tattoo?”

“Forty. It’s not a money thing, Kris. It’s the fact she played the anti-Semitic card. The fact she used my race as the reason to not give me a tip, not my work.”

“I knew you were tryin’ to get a new car. That’s why I asked. I'm sorry.”

“You’re not giving me the tip your sister should’ve. I don’t take handouts or pity.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to piss you off. I'm sorry, Ransom. I was tryin’ to be nice.”

“Were you? Or were you trying to be my ‘rescuer’?”

“Yeah, I was! I thought you’d be happy that I was tryin’ to make up for her.” I flinch at the sound of my own raised voice.

“I stand on my own feet. By my own merit.” He sounds just as angry as I am.

“I don’t wanna fight with you.” I don’t have the energy. I’ve spent it on fighting the battle raging inside my head.

“Me either. And you didn’t need me arguing while you’re already feeling bad. Which makes me an ass. I owe you an apology for that. I'm sorry.”

“Forgiven. Thank you for staying.”

“You’re welcome. And I'm not being nice to you just so we can hook up again when you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t hate you if you were.”

I wish that wasn’t true. I wish I would be angry with him if he was using me. But I can’t do that. Ransom’s sleeping soundly on the couch when I get up. He’s even more adorable asleep. I envy his easy sleep.

I start breakfast, even though I don’t feel much like eating. I don’t feel like going to work or class either, but I have to.

“Good morning. Did you get any sleep?” Ransom says, startling me.

“A couple hours.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. I'm gonna send my teachers a text and explain what’s going on.”

I know I can’t avoid Clare forever. I shouldn’t have to. She should’ve believed me and been on my side. But she wasn’t. We’ve known each other since we were fourteen. I mean, I used to go to her family’s holidays because Regan and I fought so much. Clare’s pretty much family to me.

“Good idea. Any way you can take your classes online?” He looks perfectly at home in my kitchen with one of my mugs clutched in his slender hands. I wish the thought didn’t make my stomach twinge. I’ve never had hope for a picket fence of my own.

“I’ll ask.”

I dread going to work almost as much as dealing with Clare. Maybe more.

“Text me on break?” he asks hopefully.

I agree easily. By the end of my shift, I'm ready to quit. Eight hours of being sexually harassed does my fragile mental health zero favors. My boss knows. She doesn’t care.

I don’t tell Ransom over text. I don’t want to upset him. If I tell him at all, it’ll be face-to-face.

I have a text from him, inviting me to dinner. He’s clarified that it’s not a date, which I appreciate. I agree easily.

Maybe if I wasn’t such a broken mess, I’d ask him out. Maybe if I thought he could like me more than for just sex. Maybe if I wasn’t so scared. But I am.

[thatonefromyourdreams]

I’m Sorry - [Natasha Romanoff x OC]/(7)

The reason why I came here was finally happening.

Em was getting married today and I was a nervous mess. She told me to wear a dress and this was actually worst than coming out to my parents.

"Mom, I'm gay" I said firmly "Pathetic"

I took a deep breath

"Mom, I like women" I said "Lameeee" I banged my head against the mirror

"Mom, I'm dating a girl and I want to marry her"

Try again

"MOM I'M GAY!" I screamed

"Not your mom but I knew it" dad came to my room acting like it wasn't a big deal

"You knew it?" I asked incredulously "How?"

"Well, the Garcia girl called a couple of days after you left" Lu called, okay

"Lu?"

"Yes, the girl you used to spend every day with; she called crying, I think she was drunk" Lu never drank

"Lu?" that was all I could say

He ignored me and continued

"She told me that she needed to tell you how sorry she was, and that she was still in love with you; I'm going to quote her 'I want everything we promised' and then she hung up"

"Wow" I said shocked

"Honey that doesn't mean that I don't love you, I do. You are my baby and nothing could ever change that"

"I wasn't expecting this kind of reaction"

"I'm sorry, you kind of took me off guard, I wanted to buy a coming out cake but... time" he made a funny face

I laughed and hugged him

"Thank you dad" I said trying not to cry

"So... any girl I should know about? I mean if they break your heart I can't beat them because your dad wouldn't hit a girl"

He was taking this so lightly

"I have a girlfriend" I said smiling shyly

"What's her name?" he asked

"Natasha" I said simply

"I like her already" and with that I took off a giant weight from my chest

"Dad... I feel like I let you down" I started

"No, don't ever think that, you're my little girl" he interrupted me "We should get going to the house to see if Emi needs help"

I just wished mom could react like this, but I knew she would freak out and do something stupid like start screaming or fake a seizure, I knew her too well.

We took our bags to my dad's jeep and drove to his beach house, this was the first time I'd see that house.

"Nice" I said as we entered the house, the walls were blue, with hints of white and it was so tidy and organized

"I hired someone to make it look decent" he said as if he was reading my mind

"It looks perfect" I sighed "it makes me want to get married here"

He gave me a funny look

"What?" I asked

He kept looking at me smiling

"You're starting to freak me out" I said walking in front of him to the back of the house

"You want to get married" he said calmly

I had forgotten that throughout my childhood and most of my teen years I had said that I would never get married.

"I do..." I took a deep breath "As a matter of fact, I was going to propose when we were in Paris but I just didn't feel it was the right moment"

"I know you Vale, and I don't have to be with you 24/7 to know that it wasn't that the real reason"

He knew me too well

"She’s a spy, dad, not just that, she’s the spy. The one you watch in movies but better, and I’m just me"

"Valentina, you’re so used to be you that you can’t actually see how wonderful you are"

I rolled my eyes

"Do you remember that time when those men robbed our house and they tied you down and took everything?" I asked

"What does that has to do with Natasha?" he said

"Well, mom kept saying to everyone that she married you for security and know she had to waste the money in therapy for the trauma"

He kept quiet for a full minute before saying

"You are trying to say that in one point Natasha is going to turn into a woman like your mom?"

"No, dad..."

"I assume you didn't choose a woman like your mom so you won’t have that kind of trouble" he interrupted

He took my hand

"She loves you for who you are" he said sweetly

I loved how dad always said exactly the right word when we had a problem, he was so nice and so thoughtful.

"Why did you marry mom?" I asked out of the blue

"I adored her and that was the beginning of my ending" he said "Your mom was a beautiful brown haired girl, who loved literature and medicine"

"Mom?" I asked incredulous

"Yes, through all of high school she said she wanted to be a doctor. But you know how Marina is" he said referring to my mother's mother.

I nodded

"She said that medicine wasn't a career for girls and that she had to study something more adequate for her"

"So she chose bakery?" I asked

"She went to culinary school and became a chef, but baking was her second passion so she dedicated to that"

Mom owned a franchise chain of cake shops and even thought it wasn't as big as my dad's company, it paid the luxurious life mom dreamed of.

"She is a broken woman Vale, and she loves you, in her very own way"

"She kicked me out of the house" it was a hard topic to me

"She regretted it, she went to search for you the next day but she didn't find you and Emi said she had promise you not to say a word"

"Dad?" I asked

"Was I the reason you divorced?"

He looked down

"No, you weren't" I didn't push any further

"VALE! DAD!" Em yelled from the back of the house

"Bridezilla" we both said before breaking into a fit of laughter

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

"The ceremony is about to start" the wedding planner said with a clipboard in his hand "Go to your places"

"I'll see you later with another last name" I smiled to Em

She smiled back

"Go to your place" the planner said again

I walked to the first row of chairs placed carefully for the ceremony. Mom was to my side and on the other side was Enrique, Lucía and Ricardo.

"Vale" Enrique, Carlos' younger brother, smiled

"Kike" I smiled back

He didn't say anything else

The wedding march started we got up, there she was. I saw Em earlier inside with her gorgeous strapless dress, but know, with the palm trees and the colors of the sunset she looked incredibly beautiful.

I wanted that, to see Nat walking down the aisle with a dress while I was waiting for her at the end, I wanted it to be with her. I took my phone out to take a picture of her, she looked so unreal. I remembered when were younger, everything she had done for me, she was more my mother than the woman next to me.

"Hasta que la muerte los separe" the father said

"Until my last breath" Carlos said kissing her

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

"You look nice" Mom came to my side while I was watching Em and Carlos share their first dance

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend...

The music played in the back

"You too mom" I said not paying much attention to her

"One day that is going to be you" she said softly

"I really hope so" I murmured, Kendall hadn't texted all day

"A beautiful young man, I know a few..." she kept talking about guys.

Now Val, it's your turn, come on!

"Margaret's boy is a darling, he has his own apartment on Main Street..."

NOW VAL!

"Mom..." I said softly but she kept talking

"His name is Arturo, he is a doctor, and he saves people..."

"Mom..." I said again

"You too could get along, he is a gentleman..."

"MOM!" I said loudly, making a few persons turn

"Yes?" she asked annoyed

"Valentina is that you?" Aunt Delia came with her two daughters

I smiled

"Hi Aunt Delia"

"Oh darling you are so thin!" she took my arm

She must have sensed my discomfort

"Nice to see you" she said an rushed

"Mom..." I started

"Honey, speak quickly, I need to search for Pablo" I looked at her frowning but didn't say anything.

"Mom I don't want to date Margaret's son" I started

"Okay, I have a lot of friends"

"No mom, I don't want to date any of their sons" I said, my heart beating faster and faster.

"Why?" she asked confused

"Mom... I'm..."

"Pablo" she said a tall figure walking to us

"Hello" I knew him, he was the guy.

"Mom, I'm gay" I said loudly

Mom and the guy looked at me shocked.

[zak-shit]

March 24, 2o22 Celestial Visit

This morning I had an interesting, and exciting dream.

I was living at my moms, My bed room was shaped different, I knew it was my moms because the dasher I've always had a crush on was housesitting for Candy. (My moms neighbor) Where exactly I came across the dasher is blurry. Somewhere along the lines of me about to do my first doordash order. He was offering to help or do them together. I was then in the car with him for only a second, when suddenly I was back home and getting ready to see him again. I was trying to reach him through text, when he knocked on my parents front door. He had a charismatic charm with my parents and bluntly told them we were going to cuddle? lol I had the idea we would leave, but he wanted to see my room, my space.

That is when I could have taken over the dream and made it my own, however that did not happen, not exactly. Instead this woman who i've had the pleasure of meeting in a dream appeared, this time in the clear shape of Katya. Last time I couldn't make out her looks. I only knew her from the light, warmth, and long almost alive but possibly grey hair. We flopped onto my bed with a sigh of relief. Her and I were kiking on the bed with the dasher on the other side of Katya just listening to us. He soon after vanished completely. The conversation we had was recalling our departure we had in a previous dream.

"how long has it been?!?"

a beat, excitement ran through our cheeks.

"we were right here! we knew it was going to be a while until we saw each other again!" it poured out of me. Falling out of the dream last time as she told me.

"I'll see you again- I'll always be here. We'll meet again and we will recall this moment."

I have it documented somewhere upon all of my journals or a conversation I'd had. Quite a while ago this celestial energy visited me in my dreams. Immediately embraced me, we were excited merely to be together. Just out of love. We both knew we only had a bit of time because, well its a dream. I'd almost forgotten until she asked how long it had been. It was like the form of Katya she came to me in this morning had shed, I instantly knew in my dream who she really is.

So I quickly called back on that last visit enthusiastically. She was nodding up and down in comfort. Unfortunately that was all the time we got this morning. The dream fell away from just us again and it became a girl group kiki. I know from the feeling I had these were my girls, but I also didn't know any of them. However, she was still there just now on my right side instead of my left, almost behind me on the bed. Upon being silly I referred to myself as a guy, I was just about to come out with my new pronouns when I was rudely interrupted for the second time from the same girl. (girl was "trixie matell" but appeared an unkept freshman in this dream, she wasn't in drag but was a cis woman) After awakening, I instantly knew this dream was more than just a dream. I didn't know what part of the dream I was supposed to take from. Quite a bit had gone on, was it the romance? was it the being friends with one of my idols? was it the coming out?After reflection my lucid and awake self recalled our first and previous meeting. Instantly I knew it her appearance and our moment in the dream was the key take away the whole time. I know this to be true because that is why I was truly and most excited.

I know I''ll see her again. Nevertheless I wish our moment together was longer. She was elated to see me, I think she would have told me she's been proud of me. However, I believe she came to tell me something else. At first I wanted more dream time with the cute dasher so we could have a cute lil sex scene. *literal eye roll now* She came by not only to remind me she sees me, but to help ground me in this moment.

Last night I updated my tinderrr, and I had a quite good conversation with a guy on who I've often seen online and admired from afar, and a lil conversation with a trans couple. As I was driving home and a bit into my wind down for bed I was back to being a little fixated on this man. Anytime I get fixated on a man, nothing happens. I think she came to remind me of the progress i've made. How I can't loose sight of myself for another man, or person ever. I crave love, I have for years. However I truly do have to love myself first. I'm finally and truly on that journey now, and the correct way this time. I think this is why she came to me last night. I've said in the past "i'm ready" or "I love myself" and it's had truth in there, however i've learned it really is whole process. With our quick meeting it was like an eye opening of the progress I've made, and the path I've been on. She makes me feel seen, and understood.

Thank you lover, katya, divine being, whoever and whatever you are. I look forward to seeing you again.

[danscollectionofcrud]

II can’t exactly call this getting something off my chest, because it’s something I’ve been wrestling with for years now. But I really need to try and get some of my thoughts about it down. I’m going to put this under a read more because it’s going to be very long. But if you care about my journey with my Jewish heritage, the issues I’ve seen that effect Jews in my life, and how the left fucking fails Jews constantly you can read the rest.

Those of you who followed me on my old blog know that I’m an atheist and actually ran from my Jewish heritage. I wasn’t Bar Mitzvahed, I haven’t gone to temple or a seder in about fifteen years. But in the past little while I’ve begun to explore my Jewish heritage and what that means to me.

I’m still not a religious person, or even a believer, but it is my family, and my background, and that does mean something to me. There’s a rich cultural heritage there. A people who have been through and continue to endure so much. There’s also the whole Israel thing which is for another post (my short version is fuck Israel). But I’ve begun to look back on my life, at the antisemitism I’ve seen, and experienced, and to my shame ignored in a lot of cases.

So I’ve tried to change that, I’ve tried to shut that shit down when I see it. I’ve confronted Nazis, fully ready to fight them, I’ve done by best to get as active as my mental-illness allows me to be. And I’ve tried to be an advocate within my small social circle.

My social circle as you might expect is pretty soundly in the left column. The degrees of how left they go varies. I know socialists, communists, and unfortunately too few anarchists like myself. And a lot of just straight up liberals. But all people who consider themselves progressive and in touch with the struggles of marginalized peoples.

Except they’re all fucking terrible at recognizing antisemitism, and go out of their way to downplay it. None of the examples I’ll be posting are from my friends, both out of concerns for their privacy, and because I don’t so much see them leading this charge as just going along with it.

I don’t know if it’s because the majority of Jews are white, or because there’s this idea that we’ve “solved” Jews. But leftist people just will not stand up for us. Today three different Nazis declared they’re running for Mayor of Toronto. The first response I see when I go looking is this. 

That all sounds good, that all sounds correct. Except like three months ago this woman was recommending a book to her fans that included chapters on the Jewish Question. Written by a man who once said  "the historical mission of our generation is solving the kike problem" I suppose they could be speaking from their own perspective, that person is clearly a person of colour. But man it sure sounds like that common liberal tactic of replacing the term “nazi” with the term “white nationalist”. Because that way you can talk about how they hate POCs, and you can ignore the Jew thing.

I really started noticing this becoming super common when Charlottesville happened. They were in the streets chanting Nazi slogans, attacking a synagogue, and nobody wanted to talk about antisemitism. But even when they do use the term “nazi” instead of the more generic “white nationalist” you get shit like this.

She lists nine categories of marginalized people nazis target, none of them being Jews. I guess there’s always hope we crack the top ten with that last spot though.

In no way am I saying that the threat nazis pose to these groups is insignificant. They’re in this shit just like we are. But I am saying it sure seems like the left wouldn’t stand up if I was getting stomped on by a group of guys shouting “kike” at me. Maybe they’d save me too if they were also stomping a black guy.

[elenatria]

“By making Johnny Lawrence the inverted underdog, and a surprisingly likeable one, the writers of Cobra Kai have brought the franchise into a post Game of Thrones era. And by making Daniel LaRusso the bigger asshole — a Miyagi wannabe undermined by hypocrisy and self-righteousness — they’ve taken the original hero in an unexpected direction. Part of it is the social class reversal. Daniel grew up dirt poor but has done well for himself as a wealthy car dealer who can treat his family to country club outings. Johnny, for his part, has fallen out with his rich stepfather and lives hand to mouth in the shitty neighborhood of Reseda where Daniel used to live. This reversal alone pays dividends.

But aside from even that, Daniel is astonishingly judgmental. He condescends to Johnny, kicks him when he’s down, tries to ban Cobra Kai from participating in the local tournament, and launches a pathetic crusade to shut down the dojo. He does this by manipulating a business associate into doubling the rent in the strip mall where the new Cobra Kai has just opened, which shafts not only Johnny but all the other mall renters. This is a supremely asshole move, and Daniel’s wife calls him on it. But I was frankly put off by the entire LaRusso clan. Daniel’s wife sounds like she’s always talking down to people, his cousin is a useless twit, and his daughter a priss. The LaRusso home gives off a superficial Miyagi vibe, and at work Daniel has turned some of the best things Mr. Miyagi taught him into cheap gimmicks — karate chops in car commercials, and the bonsai trees he gives away free to car buyers. Daniel does revere his deceased mentor, but has little to show that he actually understands the “balance” that he lectures others (his daughter, Robby) to strive for.

It’s the Cobra Kai losers who sell the series.  Aisha is particularly well scripted, driven to take karate after being cruelly bullied by classmates over her weight. Johnny at first refuses her, on the politically incorrect wisdom that “no girls are allowed at Cobra Kai”, until Aisha proves her potential by slamming his best student on his ass and almost breaking his ribs (mostly on the strength of her fat-ass weight for which she has been relentlessly teased). She soon becomes one of the best Cobra Kai students, and certainly one of the series’ best characters.

Johnny is the true hero of Cobra Kai, in thrall to a harsh version of karate but unwilling to sink to the depths Kreese did. He has a vulnerable side, so he’s not just an asshole. His upbringing was less than kind, and his son Robby wants nothing to do with him. He’s politically incorrect (and, amusingly, a stone-age Luddite who doesn’t know what “a Facebook” is), showing hints of racism, sexism, and homophobia, while proving that in practice he’s really none of these things — as long as his students keep up. (He reminds me of Full Metal Jacket‘s Sergeant Hartmann: “I am hard, you will not like me. But I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops, or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless.”) Miguel takes his sensei’s flaws in stride, and Johnny comes to think of him as a son.

When Daniel and Johnny faced off in the ’80s, it was cookie-cutter good vs. evil. With Miguel and Robby in the final round, there’s no such duality this time. Each is an asshole; each is likeable. And I have to give the writers credit for having Miguel take the trophy, which I didn’t expect at all. Surely Daniel’s protege would win, as Daniel always did in the films? But no: Miguel kicks the shit out of him, and in a very Cobra Kai fashion — by taking full advantage of Robby’s shoulder injury, hitting him in his wounds repeatedly with “no mercy”. A sleazy move, and yet somehow Miguel (unlike the ’80s Johnny) doesn’t come across as despicable for it.

The epilogue scores for continuing to portray Daniel in a less than flattering light. As soon as Daniel said “over my dead body”, I saw the Prince of Sanctimony again; and with the foreshadowing of what will surely be a Miyagi dojo in season 2, it’s obvious that Daniel is gearing up with more self-righteous measures against Johnny. And as if Johnny doesn’t have enough to worry about from that corner, the biggest surprise of all comes in the final frame: the return of John Kreese, who has all along been presumed dead. He strolls into Johnny’s dojo, congratulates him on his victory, and tells him they have “much to do” now that Cobra Kai is back. That sounds like a hostile takeover, and Johnny looks appalled; he’s been fighting Kreese’s ghost for years. Trapped between Daniel and the Devil, he has ugly challenges ahead of him, and season 2 has a lot to deliver on.”

If you read the whole thing, I disagree with the article saying that Cobra Kai is just a campy family drama with godawful soundtrack (WHAT???) but I agree that Daniel is portrayed as a self-righteous judgemental condescending hypocrite and that Johnny is politically incorrect  showing hints of racism, sexism, and homophobia, but in reality he’s none of those things.

Of course I’m on Johnny’s side because who doesn’t love a cynical blue-eyed golden-haired underdog with a mouth and an attitude. But I also love how much of a manipulative and sanctimonious asshole Daniel has become, and I’m enjoying every minute of his “villainy” eating pop corn. He’s so enjoyable to watch. I don’t think he’s badly written or badly played at all, and I wouldn’t want him any other way. I wouldn’t want him to be “just nice to Johnny” because where’s the fun in that, and I can’t make myself hate him because he’s just deluded about the true nature of Cobra Kai. Too stubborn to see the truth. And if it wasn’t for this ongoing feud we just wouldn’t have “Cobra Kai”, would we? 

[garbageivereleasedintothevoid]

03-13-20 (Friday)

I have just given up on trying to make sense of why weird shit always happens to me. I know it's partly because I don't back down when confronted about nonsense but like...

Why do all these fuckers come to me and start shit? Also dear god the amount of people who have been calling me random men's names thinking I'm someone they know lately has just been too much. I'm not a man and I'm so close to nosediving into feminine presentation.

Which is only partly due to that. The only thing that stops me is complete terror of that... In-between look. I know I can never pass fully as either binary gender for the rest of my life now that I'm off testosterone and have a beard. When I'm 40, my curves and fat distribution will be a dead giveaway and I'll just be the lady with the beard in dude clothes to everyone who sees me. No matter what my presentation, what people see will always be a fat woman with a beard. I'm... Never going to just... Be seen as who and what I am by people on the street. I'm going to always have some asshole trying to say something. I'm always going to have to deal with randos approaching me and becoming aggressive and calling me a faggot because they cannot figure out what my gender is. I threaten people's perceptions of reality simply by existing.

And all they can feel about that is anger. And it hurts. It hurts so bad. To just... To just know that a day will never come where I will be truly safe walking around outside. And that systemically I'm still just a stone's throw away from getting fucked over too. This isn't something I can just change. I just wanna go outside and not have to worry who's going to try and hurt me that day. I just want to leave my house and not have to worry if I'll get called a faggot. I just want to live my life in relative peace. This is generations deep for me. No matter what I do, I am hated. I am Jewish. At bare minimum, I'm going to be hated for that.

Even if the world suddenly becomes completely cool with trans and queer people, hatred of Jews is as old as time itself. We are just a people who want to live in peace. And that will never happen for us. For as long as we exist, we will be chased to the ends of the Earth.

And partly, that's why I don't want to have kids. What kind of fate am I damning them to? If I had kids, they'd be jews as well. And the world would instantly hate my children for existing. I know that's not my fault. And truly if I could change ot, I would. But as it stands, I can't and don't know if I could have children anyway. Or be able to deal with it if I could.

What do you say to a child who says "Mommy, why did x call me a kike today at school?" How do you control your own reaction to that while comforting and explaining things to that child? How do you look an innocent child in the eyes and tell them sometimes, people hate others for no reason other than they exist and that they're a member of a group of people well hated by society. My mom clearly fucked it up but how do you do this at all? How do you make a.child understand without royally fucking them up? You can't protect them. It's just not possible. How do you prepare them for being called horrible names and for people making jokes about our mass slaughter? How do you prepare them to be called ugly, greedy, morally corrupt, and an insect to be exterminated by much of society?

Even before any of that... How the fuck do I prepare ME? I developed a hard shell that I removed for therapy. And it won't go back on. This didn't used to feel like the world was ending every time. It was just another day. It used to be like seeing a fire hydrant. If you go outside, it's inevitable and uninteresting. But now it's like the world is falling apart around me and I have nowhere to go. I'm trapped on this island of anti-semitism, homophobia, transphobia, and general hatred for others. And I can't turn my feelings back off and I fucking need to. It hurts. And at this point, I just hate talking about it because it's the same shit as always. And there are so many people who just... They don't believe me. They assume because it happens so much that I'm lying and I can see it. But that hurts even more when they don't just outright say they don't believe me. I know this is monthly or more occurrence. I know that. But if I could make it stop, I'd do it. But in absolutely no way, shape or form am I willing to just run or show my pain to those people. I will stand my ground until the day I die. I do NOT GIVE fascists an inch. And I don't give bigots an inch either. And so many people want that from me. "Just ignore it." NO. That's what they want. They want to know they can get away with it. I just want to live. But if that involves being a coward, consider me dead. You give these people what they want and they do it more often. You don't back down and not only does that send a message that you don't tolerate it to them but to anyone else who may be watching. And the worst part os trying to talk about it because everyone acts so shocked and like It's my life. This is what this is like. This is being transgender, queer, disabled jew. This is the experience. And the only one who gets that is Jeff. Not the trans part but the rest of it. He just... He fuckin gets it. He doesn't deal with it in a super healthy way but he understands. He knows what I am going through. He gets it. But he's online like three times a month. And idk what to do anymore. Every moment is looking over my shoulder.Also the amount of cowardly ass men out there who try to bait you into hitting them first and get royally PISSED when you're like "If you wanna fight, you hit me. Go ahead. Do it, coward. I dare you." You can see the barely restrained rage in their eyes followed by resolve. Now they want to hurt you in a different way. Because they cannot just go up and punch you without legal action. And they start antagonizing you further. Trying to call you a coward. And you keep your calm and it just enrages them further. Until they give up or something happens to put an end to it. It's just trash. Sometimes I truly hate life. And as of the past six years, I have had moments where I genuinely loved life. Moments around Sara, Moments with Eren, or Grover, or Kirt. Moments home alone with Yoshi and the sun shining through the window. And sometimes even alone. But there's always that fear in the back of my mind. And it will always be there. It's something I will have to learn to deal with. And that fucking sucks but that's life.

And I'm really fucking sick of having to reupload this. Tumblr is being a bitch.

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheVitaHearse 2.2 “Homelessness in the Cosmos”

Dear MetaVerse [https://www.tumblr.com/new/text readers],

How are you? I feel like all I do is talk about ourselves...I’m so sick of living in this particular dimension. I know, j’en sais.

Yesterday was the most boring day ever. And, as you know, given that I, JustJeff am something identified by Earth scientists as “mostly void” (only partially true), I’m used to boredom. In fact, without travel, I feel like I’d never find a balanced form of self-amusement. However, the real point I’d like to make is that without a home, one is forever traveling in search for something--and who wants to live out the concept of infinity in its pure loneliness? 

Hanging out with Gaia has been okay lately. Don’t get me wrong, we get along fine, better than ever in fact! I think she feels guilty that I’ve gotten to the point in my journey where I should be thinking about moving on. I get bored so easily, and on this planet there is so little beauty...except Lucius. She gets jealous and I worry that my sixteen-year-old is going to eat my seven-year-old for breakfast!

(That’s what humans call their “first meal of the day,” it’s a very curious phenomenon and I’ve never understood it really. There’s a muggle named Stephen Hawking, who’s essentially, at this particular moment in spacetime, a retarded pervert in a wheelchair...yes. Preciesely. Kike a Sacha Baron Cohen character not on crystal meth!) Shit, he just hacked in.]^A*%=.3124

Also curious here is a phenomenon called Homelessness. As you know, SagA* and I did some serious bonding when I was living in OZ, what I like to tell Lucius is a magical fairy world in which pubic hairs choke you in the gangrape shower. yES, the DRAIN MONSTER exists, Lucius and friends, but I digr o     s          s    in a most DeathKnellBell hookerseesh fashion. 

Since the moment I awoke here on Earth on Earth Day 2014 in The Orchard (see previous entries if formerly unconfuzzled), I’ve had to endure the unimaginable suffering of not only living among the homeless, but being one of them, in order to be available to help you all. I have never stopped trying to help you with your problems--ask any of my real friends, family, or students, the people who continue to know me best, but without acknowledging the beauty of their lives. 

I am the solution to your political problems, citizens of Earth, in the form of a leader. Regardless of whether or not you believe in my divinity or my intellectual and moral aptitude, if you believe I’m not an alien, whatever....you have to admit I have a way with words. [Jeff continues addressing the humans, who seem mildly bemused but mostly terrified and reverent by being absolutely still.] I’m a poet. I’m a philosopher. I’m your male mother from another LoverCraft HumptyHumper. You may not understand my references, but that’s okay...you’re silly and stupid, I made you this way! Just get in line, people. 

Throughout 2014 I walked around New Brunswick and environs as the ilLuminated author of The Central New Jersey CoffeeShop Scuttlebutt and other poems, knowingly touching the homeless on the shoulder no matter how awkward it was, because I was trying to bless them. I believe in communion, the sharing of material atoms, because it’s a sacred bond. You call it chemistry. I call it Love as demonstrated by action. 

When’s the last time you’ve done anything nice for the people you love, nevermind strangers on the street, or the homeless? Don’t give them money...walk in their shoes? No. I’m not asking you to do what I’ve done. The Jesus routine is total bullshit. Just live like a normal human being and understand that you know absolutely nothing about anything and you need to hire a teacher who can lead you to something resembling the future I planned.

Now. Other students of the MetaVerse. I have to go have a fake appointment with my fake drug counselor. Thankfully, I have the world of possibility in my bag, still. 

Peace and Love, as always, and cancer to all the human babies on this completely boring, stupid, waste of a day in a world without recognition, 

Jeff

[rilenerocks]

At seven years old, I have now become a Chicago girl. My family has moved into the third floor of an apartment building at 7746 S. Cornell.

One block to the west is Stony Island which is a major thoroughfare through the city. The Chicago Skyway is close by and we are never supposed to play in those places because of the heavy traffic and the stranger danger. But I look at them from our alley and from the back porch steps three stories high, where the boiling afternoon heat turns our apartment into an inferno in the summer. There are so many vehicles moving in steady streams in many directions. I am not in Sioux City any more.

This apartment only has two bedrooms. Mom and dad are in one. My two sisters and I are in the other. My brother is in some makeshift space on the back porch. There is aluminum foil put up to reflect the sun away from his bed. I am too young to be upset at the major downsizing from our Iowa house to this small space. In retrospect I realize that this move was much harder for my older brother and sister who were more established in their Sioux City lives. They have to adapt to a new social structure because we are now living in a much more sophisticated and wealthy area than in Iowa where class didn’t seem as obvious. Or maybe I was too little to notice class then. Our apartment building is on the fringe of that wealthier neighborhood and we go to school with kids who are used to a whole other economic existence.

As kid number three, I have the advantage of observing the problems of my siblings and figuring out strategies to survive. My parents,who were driven by desperation to make this move, didn’t have the psychology chops to understand the ramifications of this sea change. They were naive. This move created what my mom called “two separate families,” my parents with the older siblings and my parents with me and my younger sister. Whether true or not, I think my mom was wrong to tell us that. At least she told us two young ones. I really am not sure what she said to the big kids. Dorothy the boundary-less. But I digress. Mrs. Miller is our landlady.

She is broad, with greasy, straight salt and pepper hair which is straight, cut in one length to just below her chin. She is brusque and I want to be away from her. Sometimes her family comes to visit and by their accents, it seems they’re from the south. There is a pale-skinned, pale-haired, pale-eyed girl about my age. We play together in the gangway which separates our apartment building from the one next door. I make up most of the games. I did the same thing with Robin, the boy I loved in Iowa. With him we played, the butterfly, the spider and the fly. He had a dual role as the mean spider and the savior fly. I was the butterfly. With this pale girl, we are playing island natives. We trade off who is the girl and the boy. The heroine’s name is Fayaway. She is always in danger, being captured and then being rescued. Although nothing actually sexual happens between us, through the prism of time, I recognize that these were erotic forms of play. Apparently I am always in love, as soon as I recognized the beginnings of that feeling.

Our block is primarily apartment buildings, some three units and others six units. There are a few duplexes. There is only one empty lot on the block. I go down there to collect grasshoppers. In summer, my sister and I screw our roller skates to our shoes and go down the sidewalk making metallic, grinding sounds on the journey to collect the bugs. I bring them back to the ledge at the front entry of our building and conduct experiments. I dissect them and move their pieces around to see what happens. Sometimes their separated parts keep moving after my operations. I have no idea how that works but it interests me. We say that the grasshoppers are spitting tobacco juice at us. Our lawn consists of a small patch of dirt, maybe 4’ by 4’ with some wan blades of grass. I am now in the urban world of bricks and mortar. That’s what I adjust to, with the alleys, sidewalks, gangways and apartment basements as my play ground. Iowa becomes a memory. In summer and on weekends, kids pour out of the buildings and we all play together. Our hide and seek games have a two block radius because there are so many kids in the game. We need lots of space for hiding. I remember going into dark basements and have a hard time believing the freedom of those days. We play kick the can in the alley, concentration and those hand clapping games that have songs attached.

Concentration is a game where you say, thinking of, names of, cars, beginning with, A. We go from cars to colors to flowers and so on. This is semi-spoken and semi-sung. The hand games have songs too like, a sailor went to sea, sea, sea to see what he could see, see, see. Our hands move fast and we have special clapping styles. Sometimes if we go too fast, the game breaks down and we start over. We play jump rope and hopscotch.

There is always something to do outside. My mom opens the front window of the apartment, calls out or whistles and we run home for dinner. After we eat, a big gang of kids runs to the corner to wait for Harry, the ice cream man.

He wears a white coat and hat and rides a bike with small freezer on the front of it. For a dime you can buy a popsicle, a fudgsicle, an ice cream bar, a dreamsicle or a push-up. I love chocolate popsicles the best. I am bigger than a lot of the kids. While we wait for Harry, I lie on my back and flex my knees toward my chest. The smaller kids sit on my feet and I push them through the air. I push Johnny Lothrop so far that he flips over and breaks his collarbone. His parents are very angry and I’m afraid they want my parents to pay. Johnny has to wear a neck brace. For days I’m afraid to go out and I stand in the little front hallway, looking out longingly at everyone playing. Our block is filled with all kinds of people.

We have several Greek families living near us. Elaine and Anna Sonios live across the street. They’re older than me. Their parents own a grocery store on 79th Street. They celebrate different holidays than we do and on occasion we get invited in and are given treats. We get Greek halva which is nougat with pistachios. I can still taste it. Elaine and Anna’s parents are very strict. When they have lots of guests, the girls climb out the windows to run around with the rest of the kids. Constantine Athanasoulias lives on our block as does Johnny Latsoudis. Johnny is handsome. There’s another cute boy on the block named Kenny Jones. I have a crush on him. He has a line in the middle of his lower lip that makes him look special. He has an older brother named Edward James but everyone calls him Edgy. The first African-American student at my elementary school, Horace Mann, moves onto our block. Her name is Sandra Greene. She is tall and athletic. Her skin has reddish tones and her face has high cheekbones. I think she’s beautiful. I often wonder whether she is part Native American. Down the block there is a family from somewhere in the Middle East. A little girl whose name is Lu-el plays outside. She is odd. The big kids try to make her eat dirt with a stick. Sometimes when I look back I feel like the kids are just this side of Lord of the Flies. One day Lu-el drops to the ground and is having a seizure. We run and get my mother who comes and puts a tongue depressor in her mouth so she won’t swallow her tongue.

Our block is full of action. One day I am outside when a mean-faced teenager named Harry Hess comes up to me and calls me a fucking kike. I know this is bad so I go tell my mother. She comes storming outside and yells at Harry and explains to me that some people don’t like us because we’re Jewish. I’ve never heard the “f” word either. I’m getting my first lessons in prejudice. Cornell is an ethnic swirl and there’s a lot to learn.

My grandparents live right around the corner on 78th Street. I can still smell their hallway. It smells like chicken soup and pepper and schmaltz. Schmaltz which is flavorful chicken fat is saved and put in a jar in the fridge and is used for cooking and us smeared on everything. Why did everyone not die of heart attacks? My grandmother is a wonderful cook. But when we visit, we sit at her white porcelain table with blue embossed flowers and eat apricot jelly on rye bread and cantaloupe cut into chunks. The chicken and friccasees are for special occasions. One of my uncles and his wife live “north” on Kenmore but then they are suddenly south on Euclid. We get together with the extended family every weekend and have big meals. We sing a lot. Favorites are You Are My Sunshine, Tell Me Why and Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. We shop locally on 79th Street.

There is Heller’s drugstore and Feldstein’s delicatessen. Feldstein’s has a big barrel full of penny candy. There are yellow jawbreakers wrapped in red rope candy. There are little wax bottles filled with juice. Wax is definitely a thing because there are big was lips you bite down on and wax mustaches. There are white candy cigarettes with pink tips and pastel gums that are shaped like cigars, with a gold label like the ones on real cigars. There are pink, yellow, white and blue hard sugar dots that are baked onto paper- you bite those off. You can get a package of pixy sticks or Lick-a-made which is nothing but flavored sugar. Tiny ice cream cones filled with colored marshmallows. Chum gum. Those were the treats we got on hot Saturday afternoons when we all piled into the laundromat with our bags of clothes, sheets and towels. How I hated the laundromat. The wringer washer in Iowa was long gone. My parents wouldn’t own a machine again until they moved near me in my adult life, almost 30 years later.  But while we took turns there, swapping out the wet loads and folding the hot things from the dryer, there was shopping.

  There was Dessauer’s butcher shop where my mom would order a piece of book roast. I don’t even know what that is. The butcher shop smelled of blood. I knew that even though I hadn’t smelled blood before. There was Wee Folks, the toy store where you could get Silly Putty. Eventually I got a Barbie doll at that store. Mine had red hair and a hole in her head. She could wear either a bubble hairstyle or if you wanted a change, you’d reach into the hole and pull out a ponytail. My favorite doll was one I’d gotten in Iowa from my grandmother. She was a Madame Alexander doll with a porcelain face and a stiff blue dress with white trim. She had one other outfit. Buying doll clothes was too expensive so I made more out of Kleenex and rubber bands. I still have her, though she is in pieces.

The Avalon theater was on 79th Street, within walking distance of our apartment. Sometimes we went with our friends. It was a fine old theater with stylish boxes and a balcony. If we shared a box of Milk Duds, they were real caramel with real chocolate covering that cracked when you bit them. I saw scary movies with Vincent Price and always liked the cartoons that played before the feature film. Movies were pretty cheap. Life felt good to me in those first years on Cornell.

We went to Rainbow Beach on the weekends. The adults all stayed on the grassy lawn of the abutting park  but I went to the water where I learned to swim by copying other people’s actions. My brother worked at the concession stand there and it felt exciting to eat something away from home. They put mustard on the hamburgers which came wrapped in thin white tissuey paper. Mostly we ate at home. On weekends, we got food from the deli, like salami and bologna and bagels and lox. Those were welcome treats. For the most part, I was a happy kid. But there were troubles brewing. My dad worked for the Chicago Motor Club in the day and at Polk Brothers at night. My mom worked occasionally but she had bad bouts of ulcerative colitis and often wound up staying home. She worked at Time-Life Books and The University of Chicago hospital where she was in accounts and the beginnings of Medicare. My dad was the one who came to bring my little sister and I home for lunch as our school didn’t have a lunchroom. We ate a lot of eggs and salami. I knew there was economic stress. I always worried about my mother’s health. She would go in and out of hospitals, events which frightened me just like the first time it happened when I was four. My brother and sister were adapting but they each had struggles. My brother became a fringe person who only had a few friends. My sister was more socially entrenched but she was unhappy. The small space we shared rumbled with emotions, some spoken and others beneath the surface. I kept my younger sister close to me. She was physically little and I wanted whatever was coming in my direction from the big people to be kept away from her. I was pretty young to be thinking those thoughts but I was worried a lot about the obvious economic stressors and the impact they were having on our household. I was impacted too by those like everyone else. But I found ways to respond that prompted my dad to give me my new nickname – weasel. I liked that one. I thought it was apt. When I felt the anger, sadness and anxiety of the older people, I wanted to make things better, for them and for me. So I found my own ways to deal with the childhood issues that have big impacts on how we feel about ourselves. My go-to skill became lying. When it was picture day at school and so many girls pranced in dressed in fancy outfits with fancy shoes, I’d get asked, “where are your dress shoes? It’s picture day.” And I would clap myself on the forehead and say, “oh I forgot.” Worked like a charm. I started to figure out that there might be a way around, over, under or through  any obstacle or problem that was in front of you. While I was playing and doing my little kid stuff, there was another part of me developing, the part that is the core of who I am as an adult. No depression, no acting out, no ulcerative colitis for me. I was going to be the person who found my way through everything, with as little personal damage to me as possible. I am still that person. The Chicago school days are next up in my memory journey which I’m going to leave for my family.

The Living Spaces #2 Chicago Girl At seven years old, I have now become a Chicago girl. My family has moved into the third floor of an apartment building at 7746 S.

[channelnewswire-blog]

Is the far best on the increase in New Zealand?|The Spinoff

Are we missing out on the increase of the far-right? What would the symptoms of such a motion be and how could the media better cover them?Hundreds of Kiwis have promised

to march versus an odd UN migration pact today under the guise of a brand-new organisation calling itself NZ Sovereignty. The central problem emphasised by the group, whichran ads in papers the other day, worries the New Zealand government's assistance for the Worldwide Compact on Migration. Opposition to the arrangement first emerged on sites like the alt-right site Breibart andneo-Nazi site Daily Stormer which warned it would"Bring 60 Million Brown People to Europe". Can the furore over the UN pact, which explicitly draws from the " to"Criminalize Christianity, marginalize heterosexuality, demonize males and promote the LGBT program all over. The real goal is never ever"equality"however rather the marginalization and shaming of anybody who reveals any male characteristics whatsoever". In another thread, users discussed the degrees to which they would enable anti-Semitism. One member threatened to leave the group "if I see anymore publishing [...] of this zionist shows ". A 2nd retorted,"come out of the cave mate ". A third:" What is the distinction between Zionists and deep state? Imo it's same thing, really much current". Although group administrators kickedthe very first user out, other anti-Semitic posts were overlooked, consisting of a tirade about the UN being out to "damage all western countries they are our natural opponents dominated by Jews, Catholics n muslims, after the ultimate stock market crash and international disaster and American army depleted they will reveal there true colours, there Muslim armies are well and truely placed to cause optimal damage".

(Image: Facebook/Reject the UN Migration Compact)When I tried to join a group titled' Kiwis United Versus the Radical Islamification of New Zealand', a group moderator declined my application. Seeing that I was Jewish, the mediator also kindly reached out to me to notify me that there was" no room for kikes in my area. Inform ya mates to get their hook noses all set gor the lynching of the century. [...]

The showers and ovens shall be fired up again". Clearly,

the movement has yet to settle its internal anti-Semitism debate.When I consulted with NZ Sovereignty's Jesse Anderson about the planned march and his wider movement, nevertheless, he insisted it was neither racist nor conservative."We have no tolerance for bigotry, for sexism, for any of that. If we see anybody who is revealing dreadful views, we will ask to move along ", he swore. Anderson later on included, in reaction to concerns about NZ Sovereignty's political leanings, "I do not see patriotism as conservative, I do not see nationalism as conservative". Everything the motion stands for is straight out of the reactionary playbook. The conspiratorial assertions that the UN pact will result in censorship of the press or an increase of migrants stemmed on alt-right forums and news websites. The naked Islamophobia, homophobia, anti-Semitism and other despicable views are particular of the modern far-right. Protestations to the contrary deserve little in the face of self-evident facts.Conspiracy central There is, nevertheless, a section of New Zealand society that is vulnerable to the reactionary but is not yet naturally left-or right-wing. This is the second possible constituency that Spoonley sees. He calls them adherents of "new age conservative conspiracy politics. The opposition to 1080, the opposition to fluoridation, the

scepticism about vaccinations. These neighborhoods are not undoubtedly part of the constituency [of the far-right] They offer up some activists who are capable of equating their opposition to the modern state into reactionary politics."The threats here are two-fold. As account, without serious reaction from half of the political establishment. In New Zealand, meanwhile, the conventional sources of authority-- media, political leaders, the judiciary, etc-- are mostly consulting with one voice against the far-right. Donald Trump speaks throughout a post-election press conference at the White House following the midterm elections. Image: JIM WATSON/AFP/Getty Images Trust in traditional media remains high. A 2017 study by Colmar Brunton found that 7 in 8 Kiwis trust papers and radio, while just 38 %trust Facebook as a news source. If the media effectively combat reactionary propaganda and fake news-- something American outlets initially tripped up on-- trust can remain high.This requires abandoning'he-said-she-said 'journalism which allows habitual liars to spread out fallacies essentially undisputed. A great example of how to do it much better is Andrea Vance's short article for Things on the New Conservatives'most current expert, previous NZ Rugby head David Moffett. Vance keeps in mind that" To back up his viewpoints, Moffett grabs conspiracy theories he's checked out on the web. He struggles to articulate them, or convincingly defend them.

"She fact-checks each claim he makes throughout the post, such as in this exchange:"Recently, Australia had an agreement with the United States to take a few of the individuals onManus Island-- unfortunately, when they got to America they discovered that there weren't all these free hand outs and they wished to return,"he states." They've got their foot into America and they don't wish to be there due to the fact that it is too difficult. These individuals-- in a lot of the cases-- are not genuine refugees."Moffett is uncertain where he sourced this example. It has been reported that nearly 3 quarters of the refugees were rejected by the US, apparently because they were born in Muslim countries."Well, it's remained in the news,"he says."Maybe, if the mainstream media was to report some of this stuff, they would see ... you'll discover it in an Australian newspaper somewhere."Journalism is another of Moffett's bugbears. He says the'mainstream'media aren't reporting on the migration pact, or any of the other issues he's anxious about."You have to comprehend that there is something called the worldwide mass media. It is generally run by 9 business around the world and they have actually made decisions about what they desire the world to look like."Who are these nine business?" I don't understand what their names are, however you know who they are-- the Murdoch empire."Previously, Moffett had told me he first discovered of the migration pact on Sky News Australia.It's important, too, to comprehend the way coded language isdeployed. Referrals to "globalism", for example, are frequently not merely directed at the idea of open borders or open market. Rather, according to Spoonley and various civil liberties organisations,"globalists" is often a pet dog whistle for Jews, who are believed to be controlling finances, media, and other huge parts of society. The reactionary think it is Jews who motivate mass migration, apparently in an attempt to ruin Western society from the

inside.Likewise, Pepe the Frog isn't simply a safe green meme-- it's been co-opted by white supremacists according to the Anti-Defamation League. The number 1488 referrals the 14 words, a well-known white supremacist motto and"Heil

Hitler "(where the eights represent the 8 th letter of the alphabet ). Knowing these and other odd codes are essential to properly covering the far-right. In the long-lasting, New Zealand

media outlets should devote reporters to covering political extremism, as Forbes has done with reporter J.J. MacNab. the Huffington Post with Luke O'Brien, and Buzzfeed with Charlie Warzel. People who understand the methods in which right-wing

extremists interact, how they think, and what they want can produce clearer and more precise reporting than general task reporters who have little to no experience with the more arcane elements of reactionary movements.After embracing brand-new approaches of covering Trump in the age of phony news, American outlets have taken pleasure in a veritable trust renaissance. In mid-2018, a survey found a bulk of Americans had"a good deal"or"a reasonable quantity"of trust in media, for the very first time considering that Trump burst onto the scene.Whether the far-right comes about in New Zealand is not yet a foregone conclusion, but it is certainly possible. Caution is sorely needed to avoid that motion from dominating-- and today's march will show the first test for New Zealand's media and the nation at big. This material is funded entirely by"target ="_ blank"data-saferedirecturl ="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.flickelectric.co.nz/&source=gmail&ust=1538424516351000&usg=AFQjCNGdVdlTuY4m5AbEK6djAVd52uUXzw"> Flick, the electricity retailer providing New Zealanders power over their power. With both spot price and fixed cost plans offered, you can be sure you're getting true cost and real option when you sign up with Flick. Assistance us by making the switch today.