#most of my friends were muslim and gave me the same sort of i support you but its against my religion speech

[year2007]

.

[sineala]

The Old Guard

This post comes to you courtesy of the generous support of one of my Patreon patrons, who wanted to know what I thought of The Old Guard. This post contains some spoilers for both the movie and the comics.

So, a few days after it came out, my wife and I watched The Old Guard on Netflix. Tumblr had said a bunch of good things about it, and both of us basically cut our fannish teeth on Highlander fandom so we already had an automatic buy-in for a story about immortals. I knew it was based on a comic by Greg Rucka, but I had not, at the time, read the comic, although I am now reading it in order to write this post.

The premise of the film is as follows: a four-person team of immortals (Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker) makes a living hiring themselves out as mercenaries, fighting for causes that they believe are right. They are successful at this basically because their grasp of tactics appears to be (1) die, followed by (2) come back to life and (3) murder your attackers who are no longer paying attention to you because they think you're dead. Honestly, at this point, you wouldn't really need to be very good at the actual fighting part, I would think, but the film establishes that all of them are -- especially Charlize Theron as Andy -- because presumably it wants you to watch action sequences of everyone being badass, which they are. So, yeah. They take all the good-guy mercenary jobs that no one else can do because it would kill them, which is not a problem for them!

Anyway! The group's routine is interrupted by two major events: the discovery of Nile Freeman, a new immortal, who is a Marine serving in Afghanistan who survives getting murdered; and also the fact that one of their employers, Copley (played by Chiwetel Eijofor, whom you may remember as Mordo in Doctor Strange) has sold them out to the movie's Actual Villain, a Big Pharma CEO named Merrick (played by the guy who played Dudley in the Harry Potter series), who has (as far as I can tell) been given instructions to play this role just like he's Martin Shkreli, who is interested in finding the secret of their immortality, and whom you can tell is evil because he has his name in giant letters on the side of his building.

ME: Look, it's the villain! I've found the villain! MY WIFE: Other than Tony Stark, who actually puts their names on buildings like that except villains? It's just villains, right? ME: Uh. The president? The president definitely does that. (We make horrified faces at each other.)

Because we are Extremely Pedantic, we also spent a lot of time picking at how the characters' names and language abilities match up to their stated background. They all know a lot of languages, as you might expect, and the movie was determined to get through them without subtitles, which is an interesting choice but also kind of left some linguistic plot holes.

For example, Joe and Nicky claim to have met each other in the Crusades, with Nicky as (presumably) a Crusader and Joe as (presumably) a Muslim occupant of the area, although the movie doesn't specify this; Wikipedia gives Joe's name as Yusuf Al-Kaysani, which would at least fit that. Nicky is clearly Italian (as is Luca Marinelli, the actor who portrays him) and when he speaks Italian to the rest of the group we see that he definitely speaks modern Italian as spoken in Rome... which is absolutely, definitely not the language he grew up speaking, given that, among other things, Wiki lists the character's full name as Nicolò di Genova. I don't know if the writer of the screenplay (who I see now is also Greg Rucka) didn't know how much Italian dialects had changed in the last thousand years, if he thought that was good enough to be a nod to the character, or if there's some kind of backstory that didn't make it in where every so often Nicky decides to learn a modern dialect and keep his hand in, and also decides that that's the language he wants to use among his friends who would presumably understand several different dialects.

Also, the reveal that Andy's real name was in fact "Andromache of Scythia" was indeed badass but was slightly undercut by my wife yelling BUT THE SCYTHIANS DIDN'T SPEAK GREEK at the television.

Additionally, I feel like the movie could perhaps have been aware of the ways it chose to label on-screen locations, in which the countries were spelled out in large fonts with the cities above them. Places like LONDON, ENGLAND got their entire names spelled out, as did small French villages whose names I can no longer remember, but I guess AFGHANISTAN and MOROCCO and SOUTH SUDAN have zero cities, huh? However, the end of the movie did take place in PARIS which I guess unlike London is its own country now.

So the actual plot features the group of immortals trying to explain this whole immortality thing to Nile while being on the run from the people who are trying to turn them into Big Pharma, who wants to capture them and exploit the secret of their immortality. This is where it falls down a little for me, because the worldbuilding... gets a little shaky. They dream about each other when they're apart. Okay. Why? Sometimes they just stop being immortal and lose the capacity to heal and are dead in their next battle. Why? Why do they even exist? I just... wanted more answers than the movie gave me, and the pacing where I kept expecting there to be explanations wasn't there. There were a couple of scenes where Nile sat there in silence contemplating the fact that she would outlive her loved ones and my brain kept trying to insert Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Granted, the Highlander canon explanation for immortality is deeply, deeply weird, but at least it tried. No, I can't believe I'm defending Highlander II either.

The characters, too, could have been more fleshed out. The bulk of the character development is given to Andy and Nile, and I'm not complaining about that -- they were great -- but Joe and Nicky and Booker only got maybe a few lines each. They would have felt so much more real if they'd just had a little bit more to them. Also I didn't understand Copley's arc at all, but saying more about that would be spoilery. I do like that they have definitely set themselves up for a sequel.

But even with what we got, there's a lot to love about the characters. If you're here for canonically queer characters, you will enjoy Nicky and Joe, who have been in a relationship for probably about a thousand years. They are minor characters as far as the overall plot goes, but what they do have is lovely, and there is a romantic declaration between them at one point that is absolutely beautiful and possibly the most fervent love declaration I can remember seeing in a movie since maybe... ever. If you also like your queerness more subtextual, though Andy is never portrayed as explicitly queer, her past friendship with a fellow immortal Quynh was shown as very intense, as is the role she takes here mentoring Nile into the world of immortality. Also she has a double-bladed axe (yes, we kept yelling BRING ME MY MAN-KILLING AXE at the television) and as we all know, the double-bladed labrys has in modern times become a symbol for lesbians. So there's that.

In addition to the characters of color who play important roles here -- Nile was my personal favorite, but there's also Joe and Copley and (in flashback) Quynh -- there's a lot of diversity behind the cameras as well, or so the internet informs me. The director (Gina Prince-Bythewood) is the first Black woman to direct a superhero movie, and the same is true of her editor (Terilyn Shropshire). And, furthermore, apparently 85% of the post-production crew were women. They didn't have to do that, and yet they did. It was nice.

I don't watch a whole lot of action movies these days because I usually find R-rated violence too... violent, but I found myself really liking almost all of the action sequences here. None of them felt gratuitous, and a lot of them really focused on the physicality of the immortals fighting in a way I liked, because I feel like people are probably going to fight differently if they know they can survive every single hit, and I think the movie portrayed that in a way that a lot of superhero comics and movies don't. My favorite fight scene is definitely the one between Nile and Andy at the beginning, when Andy has trapped her on a plane and it's extremely close-quarters fighting and also extremely brutal. They don't stop basically until Nile breaks enough bones that she can't get up anymore, because until then she's going to keep trying, which is both kind of horrifying and a great character note. And they didn't film it like it was a Sexy Catfight! It was so good.

Also, the soundtrack is really good, and I've found myself streaming it on Spotify all week. I didn't know any of the songs in the movie, but there's a lot of hip-hop and -- okay, I don't even know if this is a genre? -- specifically a lot of hip-hop with an electronic/industrial sort of beat, which I thought was really great and livened up the fight scenes even more; "Going Down Fighting" did a really good job getting me in the mood for the final confrontation with the villain, and... yeah, it's all good. Someone made a playlist on Spotify that will come up if you search for it.

So, yeah. It's on Netflix. It's not without flaws (mostly, explaining how the hell immortality works, and a couple of pacing issues), but it's a really satisfying superhero movie.

That's the movie. Onto the comic, which I am just now starting to read as I write these words. Whee!

So The Old Guard: Opening Fire is a 2017 five-issue Image Comics series written by Greg Rucka, with art by Leandro Fernández, and there's also a 2019 sequel, The Old Guard: Force Multiplied, by the same creative team, also with five issues. I have not actually read any of Rucka's work before now because he is mostly famous for his DC work, but I have heard good things about it, especially his Wonder Woman run.

Anyway. The art is very stylized, with a minimal color palette, and it's very pretty but I honestly found it hard to parse sometimes. Many of the characters have very weird noses. Yes, noses. It's basically mostly in Andy's and Nile's POVs, like the movie, and as far I can tell Andy is explicitly queer, because unless I am entirely misreading this panel in issue #1, here she is in bed with a woman in one panel. Whee. Also there are some nice epigraphs at the beginning of each issue.

Okay, so, the plot here is basically the plot of the movie. There is still no explanation of why immortality exists. But even so, there are some fun character moments that didn't make it into the movie -- for example, Andy saying smartphones are too hard to use and she liked the old ones better, only for the rest of her team to say that she couldn't use those either. I think you get a better sense of Andy's world-weariness in the comic. There are also other, now-dead Immortals mentioned, like Noriko, who "went overboard off the Horn." Quynh is not one of them; Quynh basically is Noriko, which is because they cast a Vietnamese actress who asked if her character could be Vietnamese too, which seems perfectly reasonable to me. But anyway, in the comics, she's Noriko. Weirdly, Andy's full name, as she tells Nile when they meet, is Andronika ("man-victory") rather than Andromache ("man-battle," in case you were wondering); I think the movie made a better choice because Ἀνδρονίκα has exactly two attestations in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, whereas Ἀνδρομάχη has all that shiny name recognition of being shared by the wife of Hector and also the queen of the Amazons and will ping viewers as a Greek name, and therefore ancient, even if it can't be the name she was born with. (There are five for "Andronike" and four more for "Andromacha" so they actually have about the same number of total attestations, as far as I can tell, when you consider the alpha/eta alternation in how various Greek dialects mark feminine nouns.)

(Yes, you totally wanted a review by someone who looks up character names in the LGPN. Don't lie.)

Plotwise, Andy gets all of the initial exposition in for Nile before they get to the safehouse, which Copley has already gotten to before they get back, so Booker is bleeding on the floor and Nile doesn't get to meet Joe or Nicky at this time, and I am also glad they changed that for the movie. But, don't worry, Joe and Nicky's romantic declaration is still in here. We also get Andy pondering the last time she was in love, with a human who grew old.

Oh, and we get Andy's age: 6,732. And by issue #5 her name has changed to Andromache, because what even is continuity? I guess Andromache is her name now.

So Nile finally meets Joe and Nicky when she rescues them and also, uh, that plot point where Andy might die? Totally not a thing here. Nope. And no "surprise! even more immortals!" end-credits moments either.

Basically, I feel like every change they made to the script for the movie really strengthened the story, and even though I thought the movie could have used more character moments, it's way better than how the characters are separated for even longer in the comic. Nile rescuing the team means a lot more when she has met them before, you know?

So Force Multiplied starts us off with Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Nile, because Booker is still on time-out. They are in the middle of a car chase, and Booker's off getting himself kidnapped by someone who wants to know where the others are. The villain of the piece turns out to be Noriko, who is still alive, whom Booker had never had a chance to meet and apparently had never heard of. So, basically, a lot like the Quynh plot that the movie is teasing.

Overall it's a little less action-filled than the first one, which had multiple splash pages of nothing but violence; this one is a little more character-driven and explores the relationship, such as it is, between Andy and Noriko, as well as Nile coming to terms with her immortality, as well as with what everyone else has done over the years. It does have a bunch of violence at the end, though.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but I definitely wasn't expecting where that was heading. There's apparently going to be a third volume, and I am looking forward to it, whenever it exists.

(Although, now that I think about it, the ending is a lot like a fan-favorite moment of Highlander: The Series, but I think if I said which episode you would know exactly what the ending was.)

So, yeah! The Old Guard! I can't say as I feel particularly fannish about it -- there's nothing that makes me yearn to fill in the gaps in canon -- but the movie was really good and you should see it. And you should read the comics if you're into that.

[gtgrandom]

Where Young Justice: Outsiders went wrong

(And before you tell me to just stop watching if I don’t like it - I’ve been supporting the show since 2011 by creating a significant amount of content and giving back monetarily. I have every right to critique the writing, thank you).

Honestly, I think they pulled their act together in the finale, and this season left me much more satisfied than I anticipated. That being said, there are some issues I want to address.

Major flaws:

Overabundance of characters

Undeveloped Relationships

Lack of Continuity

Problematic Representation (getting better)

Weak Dialogue 

Lower Quality Animation

The Message

Overabundance of characters

I think we can all agree on this one. There were far too many characters in season 2, but season 3 is laughable. It’s hardly a story anymore. Instead it’s an episodic series featuring new heroes each episode to appease niche comic fans.

There’s a formula for a superhero show (and any group-oriented tale in general), and that’s having a central team of five or less. Then you can introduce one or two new characters max per episode as side characters or villains. But you always circle back to your main team. YJ did a nice job of this in season one. So did most CW superhero shows before they made the same mistake of expanding their cast to make their writing task easier. (Yes, easier - new characters means you can stop developing old ones, especially with time jumps).  YJ started to narrow down the team by the end of the season, but it still left many mains as side characters / aesthetics. 

It’s great seeing these characters brought to life - I won’t deny it. But you can’t delve deep if you have this many. You can’t focus on character development or meaningful relationship development (hence why nearly every ship was established off screen). Furthermore, you frustrate fans when you focus on one group more than another. With a smaller cast you can always count on appealing to your audience because their "fave” is always present in some way. In many ways, fans feel like they’re being dragged along simply waiting for their character to pop up because of a one time cameo. It’s not fair to the audience.

The relationships

I think the only romantic relationships we’ve seen develop on screen are:

Violet/Brion

Spitfire

SuperMartian

Robin/Zatanna

sort of Roy/Jade

- and all but one were introduced in season 1. 

The others were simply introduced as a couple with little to no previous interaction. Like:

Tim/Cassie

Dick/Babs

Jaime/Traci

Bart/Ed

Kaldur/Wyynde

Gardita

M’gann/La’gaan

Mal/Karen

That is not how you write romance. You don’t stick it in there for the sake of it. You have to show us why they work, how they got there, and why we should care.  I’m not saying there HAS to be romance, but if there is, it still has to be written well. 

Continuity

This begins to overlap into the next issue, which is continuity.  I understand that Outsiders is not necessarily a new chapter to Young Justice, but if you are going to call it Young Justice Season 3, then I expect story lines to bleed over beyond just villainous deeds.  

Let’s look at Dick Grayson, for instance.  He’s one of the only mains who has had a very consistent, though shallow, character arc throughout the series.  First he wants to lead, then fears it because of the sacrifices he would have to make - because he didn’t want to be Batman.  In season 2 though, he becomes his worst nightmare.  He risks the lives of his friends, lies to his team, and ends up losing his best friend anyway.  And in season 3, we actually get a little bit of continuity here with Dick mourning Wally and being afraid to take on another team after season 2.  It could have been expanded upon, but it was still present, and I applaud the writers for that.  Especially for driving home his leadership qualities at the end there.

Now, what about the other characters, specifically those introduced in season 2?  This season is called “Outsiders,” and yet, it seems to only focus on the original team and Violet’s new group.   

What about Bart’s entire arc of coming back, stopping the apocalypse, and then losing Wally, his mentor?  What about Jaime’s home life and the lasting effects of being turned into a villain who nearly killed all his friends?  What about TIM and his role as the new leader??  Where did that plotline go?? Why is the unfamiliar Beast Boy now the leader of this Outsiders group?  How did Ed overcome his anger issues and repair his relationship with his dad?  How did Jade go from being a supportive wife and mother into the opposite?   

The writers tried to avoid all these problems by giving us a time jump.  But that’s just lazy writing if you don’t take the time to answer how things have changed!    

Also, I’ve said this before, but continuity isn’t simply having characters mourn a dead character.  You can’t keep using that plot device to give heart to the narrative.  If that’s your only source of true pathos...and that character is dead...then you’ve got a problem. 

The representation

Okay, I’ll admit they saved their asses with Kaldur. I love my wholesome pansexual rep. Would I have preferred to see his relationship occur with a character we’d already been introduced to outside the comics? Yes. But I’ll take it.

Disappointed with Ed/Bart and Bluepulse. They could have shown us more, but they didn’t. They could have given us a story, but they didn’t.  And don’t hit me with “this is a children’s show - we’re lucky to get what we get” BS.  Because it’s not anymore.  This show is literally written by adults for adults.

I really don’t want to talk about the whole Halo/Harper kiss because it was just so wrong in so many ways, but it needs to be addressed. So, first of all, if you excuse cheating in any capacity, shame on you. I don’t care what the characters are going through or how old they are. You don’t both recognize that you have significant others and then proceed to make out!! Second, what the hell?? You’re going to have the first lgbt content be a bisexual stereotype of two girls cheating on their boyfriends (and two characters who have only interacted in one episode before??) Not to mention, underage drinking and gun use? That sends the wrong message to the audience, even if the teens were reprimanded.  

Also, Halo is supposedly non-binary, and yet they explained it away by technology, so idk, I’m hesitant to count it as legitimate rep. I still think it was a good discussion to have. But yeah...

Finally, Halo is not Muslim rep after all.  She’s a hijab wearing character, but she does not identify with her faith or her culture. She outright rejects it in her scene with Harper. So...what? Is she diversity points that you can continue to violently kill off over and over?  Not a fantastic way to treat POC. I don’t think the creators meant any harm by it, but it’s something they need to consider going forward.

(I do appreciate the number of POC characters that have been introduced however. Especially the Latinx and black characters. This show has improved its diversity. But without proper characterization, they’re sort of just...there).

Dialogue

I can’t be the only one who cringed through entire episodes this season?  Some episodes had stellar writing. But the bad ones were very, very bad.   Obviously, not every joke is going to stick the landing, but if you’re going to kill off your beloved comic relief character, you have to have a better backup plan.   

Like, do you guys remember how witty some of the lines from the pilot were?  The whole “Speedy” vs. “Kid Flash” debate in the opening sequence?  You can tell how much effort went into those scenes.  How much love was given to those characters. Because they knew that was their only chance to hook the audience, to get a green light for a full season.  So they put everything into character development and plot - and now they’ve lost so much of what made the show precious in the first place.  (It’s still precious, but it’s tainted in many ways for me now).

Animation

It’s gone downhill. That’s really all I can say without being mean.  Some episodes seem slightly better than others, but if you compare the animation from 3x01 to an episode like Failsafe...there’s just no comparison.  I could hardly watch Wally’s scene without frowning at the frame rate.

Message

I don’t understand what the show is telling us anymore (or I didn’t, before Black Lightning gave a very “on the nose” speech about what it is that we were supposed to take away from this season).

I mean this has always been an issue with the show, but at least it was a little clearer in season 1.  Then, we had several themes:

Found family (+ Actions speak louder than heritage)

Don’t call us sidekicks (AKA the kids can make a difference)

Secrets are poison (They can tear a team apart. Trust in friends)

Season 2 was a little convoluted...and sort of just recycled material. 

Secrets are poison (dammit, Dick)

You are in charge of your own destiny (Jaime/Connor)

Sacrifice (Kaldur, Artemis, Wally, Bart...they all gave something up for the greater good).

But what is the message of season 3?

Secrets are still poison (Tara, Violet, Batman v. Wonder Woman team)

I suppose it’s about healing and letting others in?  Like how  Brion and Victor have both worked through their anger?  Artemis and Jefferson and Dick and Gar sorting through their grief...somehow...off-screen...(except for the episode devoted to Artemis saying goodbye to Wally.)

Perhaps...accepting yourself?  (Victor, Violet, Brion, Connor?)

Do you see my issue here?  How much harder it is to see what I’m supposed to take away from the show now?  I’m not saying there aren’t any good messages being told, but they’re difficult to interpret.  Sometimes that can be good.  But this time I’m on the fence.

Conclusion

I love many of the characters from this show, but the fandom acts as if the writing is impeccable, and that’s just not true.  Not everything is bad.  Some of it is still miles beyond other animated television (looking at you vld).  And I genuinely enjoyed about half of the episodes this season. But I think it’s important to recognize the flaws in media, as a writer myself, and as a consumer of these shows.  

Plz be civil in the comments, and understand that this is only my opinion. 

[curupiracue]

Planning (or attempts to)

“Dammit Novalue, we wasted too much time! Were i-?!” I suddenly interrupt myself when a certain bitch enters my field of vision, walking out of an alley. She notices me too, stops, sits down and all but flat-out tells me to go to the Mental World.

Novalue notices it too, and looks at me, silently asking what we should do.

“She probably knows the situation better. So if she isn’t pursuing the serial killer, that means there is not much I can do…” My tone of voice rapidly changes to something enthusiastic “Now! The question is, should we take this chance to shoot her in the head, or just shoot her in the head?”

“I’m not participating if you decide to fight her, unless it’s on the off-chance you’re about to get yourself killed.”

“Muri! How the hell would that happen? I’m as invincible as a diamond in a cutting contest, and she is no hammer! Nyahahah!”

‘This time, Novalue sighs.

“Well? Shall we go?”

“Mm. Yes, let’s.”

(Entering the nowhere of importance. Wait patiently, if you will?)

The moment we get there, Wims (tries) to joyfully greet us.

“Why, hel-”

“HOW IN THE SEVEN HELLS DID YOU MANAGE TO LET HIM ESCAPE!?!”

“...Well, so much for the passive-aggressive beginning.” She replies dryly, without any of the previous fake merriness

“Ooh~? I have no problems with that. I’m friends with passive-aggressiveness, differently from you and catching criminals~” Hahah! Now that caused some umbrage, I can see it in her expression~

“Well… Sorry if I can’t catch a coward that runs away. Maybe if I had your help… oh, but you couldn’t be bothered.”

“Oh? You’d need me? Heheheh, no, that’s not a surprise, see, I’m actually just shocked because you’re willing to admit this in all your arrogance.”

“Not necessarily in combat. I could have gathered as much info as I wanted about his powers and his schedule, if only you had told me about the circumstance. But you’re too petty for that, aren’t you Nim? Would rather let people potentially die, I guess.”

“Well, YEAH! I couldn’t care less about that. You on the other hand, seems to be enjoying playing little goody two shoes without actually being one. Or trying to be one. That’s as miserable as a fish out of water… on a volcano.”

“Oh, I’m not good by any stretch. I just meant to say that anyone with a shred of morality is more moral than you, you hyper-sociopath. Remind me to beat you to a pulp one of these days, yeah?”

“Huhh?! One of these days? Why not right now? The serial killer isn’t coming back, so you’re not risking anything other than learning the fact that you cannot possibly hope to beat me.”

“Last time says otherwise.”

“Last time you had an advantage, bitch.”

“Hohoh! Then I guess it’s about time I prove I don’t need one.”

She started walking in my direction, and I did the same.

“Wouldn’t write a thesis about that. Speaking of writing, considering you’ll be left mentally crippled for life, I wonder who is going to write the article about your demi-WAAHH?!?”

“Hu-Uwoooh?!”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

To say that I didn’t see this coming would be equal to lying, but it escalated a little bit too fast. Thankfully, I had time to set up two unreal areas while they were distracted. The moment they gave their first steps, their legs entered unreality, and without support, so did the rest of the body.

Pop.

Ttuumm.

“Guh!”

“Ugh.”

And then I popped the unreal areas back into existence, making both Nim and Wims fell on the ground.

“That’s enough, you two.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

...Well, that caught me by surprise. Novalue’s the type of underdog that wins by being surprisingly powerful when and where you least expect it.

Unreality… His primary construction. The power to make it so that anything within a certain area ceases to affect the other world. Well. It’s annoyingly more complex than that. But who in their right would be describing that as their leg suddenly disappear and they fall nowhere? I mean… sure, the construction can’t actually hurt anything, since whatever is in unreality is still connected to the part that is still real, but like… explaining crap like this, it’s like we’re on a book or something!

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected in all different senses)

“Yes you are.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

“(very) exasperated sigh) Nim, you’re being an idiot because you refuse to cooperate with her even though the situation calls for it. Wims, you’re being an idiot because you refuse to acknowledge the circumstance. What Nim wants to do would be hardly detrimental. Don’t say that he didn’t even ask either: it’s obvious you would have killed the murderer behind our backs if he did. Hell, you attacked them even when we were obviously planning something. I’m honestly sick and tired of having to watch you two degenerate into fighting like two brats every time we speak.”

“Ugh… I suppose I deserved that.”

“Tsk. Fair enough. But, Novalue, you’re wrong on one account: I didn’t attack him while knowing of your plan: I was just warned of something interesting and after sensing that man’s power, I guessed the rest.”

“You were warned through the crow… Then, did you receive information such as the killer’s face and overall appearan-”

“Of course not, dumbass. That crow… probably died...”

Oh.

Well, at least Nim’s being sensitive about it.

Wims seemed to have a rare moment of sentimentality. But her stoic nature and the ease to manipulate our Mental World’s avatars made it hard for me to see it.

“Yes, quite… So I’m in quite the sore mood now. That bastard killed Jesus… this can’t be allowed.” She clenched her fist with anger and looked at us.

“So. Here’s the reason I called you here, to the Mental World...” She put her hand on her head and pulled photos out of it, right before tossing them to us.

In those photos, were…

A knife.

A man shrouded in fog.

And an arm holding a knife, attempting to stab her.

“There are...”

“...Not reminiscence photos.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh, for fuck’s sake Novalue, you’re useless. ...They don’t have that feeling of power. These are probably… ordinary images, manifestations of her memory. They look like those photos cuz’ it was probably easier to re-use the frame.”

“Precisely. Well, normally, since these are just memories created and stored naturally without use of a construction, there would be inaccuracies… But since I am flawless, so are these.”

Nim took a good look at the photo he was holding.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Huh, what~?”

Ugh… What a pest. Well, anyway...

She couldn’t hear the word of Jesus, but still managed to come up with something of her own… So she is muslim?

...No, that joke was awful. Nim would complain about imprecisions too.

“Anyway! Ms. Fourt-”

“Oh, please dispense with the formalities~”

“...Alright bitch, tell us what you know.”

(Time passes...)

“In addition to that...”

“You’re going to say that he detected us, aren’t you? ‘Cause I already kn-”

“Stop being such a glory hound. That said… yes. You were far away, but he managed to detect you, that or he made a random turn for no reason, which is doubtful. Given his overall inexperience, I think it’s safe to say that’s another construction of his, rather than being good at Sensing.”

“So… Summing it up, there are four of them. Two primary, and two secondary, judging from their power. The primary ones are an utility construction that is presumably not combat applicable and that can be used to erase memories, and a combat construction that summons a shadowed arm. The secondary constructions are also combat constructions, most likely, though that doesn’t matter. One of them hides his presence, and the other can be used as a scout. But we don’t know what exactly it does. It might detect other minds, or it might warn him of danger, or it might allow him to see things that are far away… Well, out of these, the last one makes more sense for a combat construction. But now that I think about it, it could be a primary utility construction. Kind of a newbie’s move, but he IS inexperienced...”

“I doubt that arm would have so much power if he had divided his attention between 3 primary constructions… And we also don’t know much about that memory wiping one… though, I doubt we’ll need to worry with that.”

“Hmmm… naruhodo. Thanks for summing it up, Novalue. I think I got the general idea of his powers. On video game terms, he'd be a "Glass Canon" of sorts. He possesses devastating ranged attacks, that, while restricted and held back by a few weaknesses, are still tricky to avoid, his fog shit to cover his location and GPS to guarantee that we can't do the same. But when it comes to direct combat, his hand ability ends up lacking in proper versatility and defense capability, and he doesn't really have any good defensive or movement options. His Erasure power is pretty good, and works at melee, but it takes way to long and is too weak to make a difference. Not to mention, trying to touch someone with his kit doesn't really bode well.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“(sigh...) You’re two useless idiots. Specially you, Wims.”

“What was that?!”

“I mean, Novalue has an excuse since he flat out wouldn’t be able to do this… but you came face-to-face with the killer and couldn’t be bothered? Guess you wanted to just end this quickly, but gathering info is your job… Are you that bad at it?”

“Why you…!”

“You know… When I was a kid, I wanted to be a babysister, but I can now see that this was a horrible mistake… Nim. What are you talking about? Don’t tell me that you managed to get a copy of his construction?”

“Ugh. He sure did. And by pure luck, by the looks of it.”

“Aww, did you view a little film of my pathetic life because you were feeling even more pathetic after losing to me? Better to win with luck than lose whe-”

“...No need to read your memories. You put a trap in someone, didn’t you? You were probably developing it as a minor construction, or maybe not even that, just a magic trick, every since you heard about about the memory erasures. A trap that made it so that, if someone with it got their memories erased, you would get a copy of whatever erased it.”

“Wow, you figured it out! Elaborate huuuh~? But you didn’t even need that! He was close to you. So you have just wanked it out of him, or read his memories concerning it. Even with the fog, you could probably overpower him with your superior stren-”

“Nim, shut the fuck up.”

“Hmmph. Prickly after losing your crow, I see. ...Well… let’s just present it:”

Suddenly, Nim summoned a shadowy figure.

“It’s just a being made of information. No way could I have gotten away with making a copy of the real thing. In essence, after the killer touches you, he can install this on your mind. Then after 4 hours of preparation and another 4 of waiting, it attacks. If it gets you, BOOM! Heart attack. Then it rummages through your memories, deleting them and only stopping whenever it finds someone. If it does, it will go to that person’s mind and delete the information about the original person as well as putting them into a “trance” for a while, during which they will ignore signs of the erased person’s existence. Quite the nice work, I must say~ ...I mean, I could do better, but still.”

“Huh. Sounds like it won’t present a problem to us after all. Incidentally, shouldn’t we make sure he can’t quit town?”

“...I already did that. The crows are keeping a close watch at the exits. For now, nobody left. I feel like he’s aware that it would be a bad idea… Well, at the very least, he knows what my crows can do, since he did me the FUCKING FAVOR of killing one of them...”

“Well, if you’re that pissed, how’s about we do something about it?”

“Agreed. Though now more than ever I DON’T wanna’ cooperate with you Nim, it was part of the plan from the get go.”

“Speaking of plans… Exactly how can I trust you not to backstab me?”

“Oh, you can’t~”

“...I’ll put you on a damn leash if I have to…”

“Ugh. Fine, you have my word… You’re an idealistic shit, Nim.”

“Why, thank you. Go live in a barrel with a staff, some rags and a loaf of bread. And remind me if I’m in front of the sun, bitch.”

“...Now that this is out of the way...” I butted in.

“Shall we start our plans?”

[xtruss]

Tony Blair, The War Criminal Ghoul: Why We Must Not Abandon the People of Afghanistan – For Their Sakes and Ours

— August 21, 2021

The abandonment of Afghanistan and its people is tragic, dangerous, unnecessary, not in their interests and not in ours. In the aftermath of the decision to return Afghanistan to the same group from which the carnage of 9/11 arose, and in a manner that seems almost designed to parade our humiliation, the question posed by allies and enemies alike is: has the West lost its strategic will? Meaning: is it able to learn from experience, think strategically, define our interests strategically and on that basis commit strategically? Is long term a concept we are still capable of grasping? Is the nature of our politics now inconsistent with the assertion of our traditional global leadership role? And do we care?

As the leader of our country when we took the decision to join the United States in removing the Taliban from power – and who saw the high hopes we had of what we could achieve for the people and the world subside under the weight of bitter reality – I know better than most how difficult the decisions of leadership are, and how easy it is to be critical and how hard to be constructive.

Almost 20 years ago, following the slaughter of 3,000 people on US soil on 11 September, the world was in turmoil. The attacks were organised out of Afghanistan by al-Qaeda, an Islamist terrorist group given protection and assistance by the Taliban. We forget this now, but the world was spinning on its axis. We feared further attacks, possibly worse. The Taliban were given an ultimatum: yield up the al-Qaeda leadership or be removed from power so that Afghanistan could not be used for further attacks. They refused. We felt there was no safer alternative for our security than keeping our word.

We held out the prospect, backed by substantial commitment, of turning Afghanistan from a failed terror state into a functioning democracy on the mend. It may have been a misplaced ambition, but it was not an ignoble one. There is no doubt that in the years that followed we made mistakes, some serious. But the reaction to our mistakes has been, unfortunately, further mistakes. Today we are in a mood that seems to regard the bringing of democracy as a utopian delusion and intervention, virtually of any sort, as a fool’s errand.

The world is now uncertain of where the West stands because it is so obvious that the decision to withdraw from Afghanistan in this way was driven not by grand strategy but by politics.

We didn't need to do it. We chose to do it. We did it in obedience to an imbecilic political slogan about ending “the forever wars”, as if our engagement in 2021 was remotely comparable to our commitment 20 or even ten years ago, and in circumstances in which troop numbers had declined to a minimum and no allied soldier had lost their life in combat for 18 months.

We did it in the knowledge that though worse than imperfect, and though immensely fragile, there were real gains over the past 20 years. And for anyone who disputes that, read the heartbreaking laments from every section of Afghan society as to what they fear will now be lost. Gains in living standards, education particularly of girls, gains in freedom. Not nearly what we hoped or wanted. But not nothing. Something worth defending. Worth protecting.

We did it when the sacrifices of our troops had made those fragile gains our duty to preserve.

We did it when the February 2020 agreement, itself replete with concessions to the Taliban, by which the US agreed to withdraw if the Taliban negotiated a broad-based government and protected civilians, had been violated daily and derisively.

We did it with every jihadist group around the world cheering.

Russia, China and Iran will see and take advantage. Anyone given commitments by Western leaders will understandably regard them as unstable currency.

We did it because our politics seemed to demand it. And that’s the worry of our allies and the source of rejoicing in those who wish us ill.

They think Western politics is broken.

Unsurprisingly therefore friends and foes ask: is this a moment when the West is in epoch-changing retreat?

I can't believe we are in such retreat, but we are going to have to give tangible demonstration that we are not.

This demands an immediate response in respect of Afghanistan. And then measured and clear articulation of where we stand for the future.

We must evacuate and give sanctuary to those to whom we have responsibility – those Afghans who helped us, stood by us and have a right to demand we stand by them. There must be no repetition of arbitrary deadlines. We have a moral obligation to keep at it until all those who need to be are evacuated. And we should do so not grudgingly but out of a deep sense of humanity and responsibility.

We need then to work out a means of dealing with the Taliban and exerting maximum pressure on them. This is not as empty as it seems. We have given up much of our leverage, but we retain some. The Taliban will face very difficult decisions and likely divide deeply over them. The country, its finances and public-sector workforce are significantly dependent on aid notably from the US, Japan, the UK and others. The average age of the population is 18. A majority of Afghans have known freedom and not known the Taliban regime. They will not all conform quietly.

The UK, as the current G7 chair, should convene a Contact Group of the G7 and other key nations, and commit to coordinating help to the Afghan people and holding the new regime to account. NATO – which has had 8,000 troops present in Afghanistan alongside the US – and Europe should be brought fully into cooperation under this grouping.

We need to draw up a list of incentives, sanctions and actions we can take, including to protect the civilian population so the Taliban understand their actions will have consequences.

This is urgent. The disarray of the past weeks needs to be replaced by something resembling coherence, and with a plan that is credible and realistic.

But then we must answer that overarching question. What are our strategic interests and are we prepared any longer to commit to upholding them?

Compare the Western position with that of President Putin. When the Arab Spring convulsed the Middle East and North Africa toppling regime after regime, he perceived that Russia’s interests were at stake. In particular, in Syria, he believed that Russia needed Assad to stay in power. While the West hesitated and then finally achieved the worst of all worlds – refusing to negotiate with Assad, but not doing anything to remove him, even when he used chemical weapons against his own people – Putin committed. He has spent ten years in open-ended commitment. And though he was intervening to prop up a dictatorship and we were intervening to suppress one, he, along with the Iranians, secured his goal. Likewise, though we removed the Qaddafi government in Libya, it is Russia, not us, who has influence over the future.

Afghanistan was hard to govern all through the 20 years of our time there. And of course, there were mistakes and miscalculations. But we shouldn’t dupe ourselves into thinking it was ever going to be anything other than tough, when there was an internal insurgency combining with external support – in this case, Pakistan – to destabilise the country and thwart its progress.

The Afghan army didn’t hold up once US support was cancelled, but 60,000 Afghan soldiers gave their lives, and any army would have suffered a collapse in morale when effective air support vital for troops in the field was scuttled by the overnight withdrawal of maintenance.

There was endemic corruption in government, but there were also good people doing good work to the benefit of the people.

Read the excellent summary of what we got right and wrong from General Petraeus in his New Yorker interview.

It often dashed our hopes, but it was never hopeless.

Despite everything, if it mattered strategically, it was worth persevering provided that the cost was not inordinate and here it wasn't.

If it matters, you go through the pain. Even when you are rightly disheartened, you can't lose heart completely. Your friends need to feel it and your foes need to know it.

“If it matters.”

So: does it? Is what is happening in Afghanistan part of a picture that concerns our strategic interests and engages them profoundly?

Some would say no. We have not had another attack on the scale of 9/11, though no-one knows whether that is because of what we did post 9/11 or despite it. You could say that terrorism remains a threat but not one that occupies the thoughts of a lot of our citizens, certainly not to the degree in the years following 9/11.

You could see different elements of jihadism as disconnected, with local causes and containable with modern intelligence.

I would still argue that even if this were right and the action in removing the Taliban in November 2001 was unnecessary, the decision to withdraw was wrong. But it wouldn’t make this a turning point in geopolitics.

But let me make the alternative case – that the Taliban is part of a bigger picture that should concern us strategically.

The 9/11 attack exploded into our consciousness because of its severity and horror. But the motivation for such an atrocity arose from an ideology many years in development. I will call it “Radical Islam” for want of a better term. As a research paper shortly to be published by my Institute shows, this ideology in different forms, and with varying degrees of extremism, has been almost 100 years in gestation.

Its essence is the belief that Muslim people are disrespected and disadvantaged because they are oppressed by outside powers and their own corrupt leadership, and that the answer lies in Islam returning to its roots, creating a state based not on nations but on religion, with society and politics governed by a strict and fundamentalist view of Islam.

It is the turning of the religion of Islam into a political ideology and, of necessity, an exclusionary and extreme one because in a multi-faith and multicultural world, it holds there is only one true faith and we should all conform to it.

Over the past decades and well before 9/11, it was gaining in strength. The 1979 Iranian Islamic Revolution and its echo in the failed storming of the Grand Mosque in Mecca in late 1979 massively boosted the forces of this radicalism. The Muslim Brotherhood became a substantial movement. The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan saw jihadism rise.

In time other groups have sprung up: Boko Haram, al-Shabab, al-Qaeda, ISIS and many others.

Some are violent. Some not. Sometimes they fight each other. But at other times, as with Iran and al-Qaeda, they cooperate. But all subscribe to basic elements of the same ideology.

Today, there is a vast process of destabilisation going on in the Sahel, the group of countries across the northern part of sub-Saharan Africa. This will be the next wave of extremism and immigration that will inevitably hit Europe.

My Institute works in many African countries. Barely a president I know does not think this is a huge problem for them and for some it is becoming THE problem.

Iran uses proxies like Hizbullah to undermine moderate Arab countries in the Middle East. Lebanon is teetering on the brink of collapse.

Turkey has moved increasingly down the Islamist path in recent years.

In the West, we have sections of our own Muslim communities radicalised.

Even more moderate Muslim nations such as Indonesia and Malaysia have, over a period of decades, seen their politics become more Islamic in practice and discourse.

Look no further than Pakistan’s prime minister congratulating the Taliban on their “victory” to see that although, of course, many of those espousing Islamism are opposed to violence, they share ideological characteristics with many of those who use it – and a world view that is constantly presenting Islam as under siege from the West.

Islamism is a long-term structural challenge because it is an ideology utterly inconsistent with modern societies based on tolerance and secular government.

Yet Western policymakers can't even agree to call it “Radical Islam”. We prefer to identify it as a set of disconnected challenges, each to be dealt with separately.

If we did define it as a strategic challenge, and saw it in whole and not as parts, we would never have taken the decision to pull out of Afghanistan.

We are in the wrong rhythm of thinking in relation to Radical Islam. With Revolutionary Communism, we recognised it as a threat of a strategic nature, which required us to confront it both ideologically and with security measures. It lasted more than 70 years. Throughout that time, we would never have dreamt of saying, “well, we have been at this for a long time, we should just give up.”

We knew we had to have the will, the capacity and the staying power to see it through. There were different arenas of conflict and engagement, different dimensions, varying volumes of anxiety as the threat ebbed and flowed.

But we understood it was a real menace and we combined across nations and parties to deal with it.

This is what we need to decide now with Radical Islam. Is it a strategic threat? If so, how do those opposed to it including within Islam, combine to defeat it?

We have learnt the perils of intervention in the way we intervened in Afghanistan, Iraq and indeed Libya. But non-intervention is also policy with consequence.

What is absurd is to believe the choice is between what we did in the first decade after 9/11 and the retreat we are witnessing now: to treat our full-scale military intervention of November 2001 as of the same nature as the secure and support mission in Afghanistan of recent times.

Intervention can take many forms. We need to do it learning the proper lessons of the past 20 years according not to our short-term politics, but our long-term strategic interests.

But intervention requires commitment. Not time limited by political timetables but by obedience to goals.

For Britain and the US, these questions are acute. The absence of across-the-aisle consensus and collaboration and the deep politicisation of foreign policy and security issues is visibly atrophying US power. And for Britain, out of Europe and suffering the end of the Afghanistan mission by our greatest ally with little or no consultation, we have serious reflection to do. We don’t see it yet. But we are at risk of relegation to the second division of global powers. Maybe we don’t mind. But we should at least take the decision deliberatively.

There are of course many other important issues in geopolitics: Covid-19, climate, the rise of China, poverty, disease and development.

But sometimes an issue comes to mean something not only in its own right but as a metaphor, as a clue to the state of things and the state of peoples.

If the West wants to shape the 21st century, it will take commitment. Through thick and thin. When it’s rough as well as easy. Making sure allies have confidence and opponents caution. Accumulating a reputation for constancy and respect for the plan we have and the skill in its implementation.

It will require parts of the right in politics to understand that isolation in an interconnected world is self-defeating, and parts of the left to accept that intervention can sometimes be necessary to uphold our values.

It requires us to learn lessons from the 20 years since 9/11 in a spirit of humility – and the respectful exchange of different points of view – but also with a sense of rediscovery that we in the West represent values and interests worth being proud of and defending.

And that commitment to those values and interests needs to define our politics and not our politics define our commitment.

This is the large strategic question posed by these last days of chaos in Afghanistan. And on the answer will depend the world’s view of us and our view of ourselves.

— War Criminal Ghoul Tony Blair: Former Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and Executive Chairman of the Tony Blair Institute for Global Change

[it-goes-both-ways]

Over the last few years I've been posting more and more of my actual views, which I'm not exactly ashamed of but realise they're not so much unpopular opinions as downright rejected ones. I pretty much know why I have them, I'm aware of my biases and make every effort to restrict them to words, not allowing them to affect my relationships or treatment of others, restricting the hyperbole and rants to this blog and my long suffering partner. Unfortunately I seem to attract the worst kind of women in real life, which is not at all helping. Every time I reveal something I worry about being rejected, told I'm a monster, a failure, a disgrace, an embarrassment, but each and every time I've gotten nothing but acceptance. I am greatly honoured by your support thus far, for tolerating my increasingly frustrated outbursts and hope I won't push you away with this, but it's been all consuming for almost my whole life, and part of “cleaning up my room” is putting all that baggage out there to be scrutinised and hopefully understood, sometimes all that is needed is a willing ear, suppression only breeding resentment and isolation.

All the bullshit feminism has caused, from protesting the male pill and shutting down shared parenting efforts to the Duluth model and erasing men who are raped by women or by counting them under "violence against women" stats to boost the female victim numbers. Mary Koss, the progenitor of the 1 in 5/4/3/-69/ π r2 stat claiming that it's "inappropriate" to consider male victims of forceful envelopment by women as they are merely ambivalent about their own desires. Lobbying for laws that regard mutually drunk sexual encounters as automatically rape by men, underage consensually sexually active couples (even if they're months away from age of consent or the girl is older) as child rape on the part of the boy, guilty until proven innocent, accusation is the evidence, kangaroo courts, sentencing discounts on top of the preexisting bias which causes a 63% disparity and difference in treatment to the point where if you take every step of the justice system into account the crime rate is pretty damned even (with women often using proxy violence so they have plausible deniability, and avoid responsibility/physical risk). Treating women as the definitive victims of prostitution no matter which side of the transaction they're on. Banning men from charity fundraising events, transpeople only allowed if they provide evidence that they are biologically female. Having the NHS class women choosing to have genital piercings as being victims of female genital mutilation, while male genital mutilation performed at birth is not so much as frowned upon let alone illegal by any single country on the entire twatting planet. In fact you can buy some baby foreskins if you want to, or rub them on your face, the target market being protected from the very process that brought them their anti-ageing face cream, complaining that it costs more than men's moisturiser.

The innate gynocentrism of humanity has always led to women being their top priority, now even above children, it tries to pander, and acquiesce to their every demand while being told it hates them. The cases like the woman who filmed herself raping her own baby and getting the oh so harsh sentence of community bloody service and house arrest. The "poor, neglected" woman whose husband had become distant from her (wonder why) so she raped her son's friend, whose punishment was being banned from his school, which she considered too harsh as she missed her son's graduation. An audience of hundreds of normal regular women cheering and celebrating a man being drugged by his wife, who then cut off his penis and threw it in the "garbage disposal" permanently destroying it, just for asking for a divorce (can't think why he'd want to leave), despite no further context it was declared "fabulous" to the ecstatic jubilation of the empathetic sex. There's the idea that men commit the vast majority of rapes while calling female teachers "seducing" their students mere trysts, shameful liaisons that do not deserve prison, female prison guards committing the overwhelming majority of rape of male children and youths in juvenile detention (89%), among other women who rape men and boys (my own mother being one of them), this in addition to the rape rate among female prisoners being 3 times that of male ones, not a single damned thing is done about the propagation of the bullshit narrative. Somehow the fact that female rapists tend to target children is irrelevant because male ones target adult women, and "you don't see women going around raping adult men" (even though the stats are still around 50/50 because it's a human problem, unless those women are exhibiting toxic masculinity or something). There's the 10,000 men and boys slaughtered in their schools by Boko Haram while girls were released and allowed to go home, the boys being set on fire, their throats slit, or shot if trying to escape, no one giving the slightest hint of the merest ghost of a toss, until they realised that they weren't getting the attention they craved so they kidnapped girls, causing an international outcry and the media/celebrities changing their motivation from "eradicate western education" to "oppress women and stop them getting an education". There's the refusal by both the left and the right to look beyond the plight of women when it comes to Islam, they not only ignore the laws which oppress men, but declare those men the "real" misogynist patriarchal oppressors and innately sociopathic rapists. There's the refusal to recognise that women are a part of society and have far more influence than anyone wants to admit. There's Muslim men's obligation towards women, the segregation in Saudi where they have many public places from which men are banned unless accompanied by a female family member, where they'll be arrested for accompanying a woman to whom he is not related while the woman is merely sent home, where men face potentially fatal consequences for the same "crimes". Where homeless boys in Pakistan are pretty much guaranteed to be repeatedly raped day after day.

Then in my own life, being 6 or 7 years old, my sister 8 or 9 and told to stay put as our Reliant Robin went up in flames, having to be pulled out by a stranger, a man, because we were more afraid of disobeying than of burning to death, mother not even sparing us a glance as she grieved the loss of her car, later keeping it in the garden like some sort of shrine. Around the same year, at an LRP event (Lorien Trust's The Gathering), being left in the tent alone late at night and going to look for her, finding her on top of an unconscious man, she at least picked up on the fact that I was revelling in her severe hangover the next morning. Sneaking downstairs one night to see the aftermath of one of her "encounters", the man was broken, so started my extreme protectiveness of men and distrust of women, to the point of being called a gender traitor for the first time at around 7 years old by my 60+ year old year 1 teacher (who also wouldn't allow me to use left handed scissors or to write left handed, unwittingly making me ambidextrous. Being left with a violent babysitter who made me sleep under the table, or on the floor beside her bed (despite having 4 bloody beds), who wouldn't let me eat since burning the toast, beat me for asking for a glass of water and wouldn't even allow me to drink out of the tap, she once threw me in a wheely bin and poured dishwater over me, mother was in the garden just a few doors down, yet did nothing. She’d always try and get her boyfriends to beat us but they always just laughed it off (they’d put up with abuse themselves but never lasted long after she started bringing us into it), one in particular was into BDSM and later got mother a job as a dominatrix (she was disappointed by our complete lack of surprise), and even he had to draw the line at demonstrating how sexual intercourse works to his girlfriend’s 6 and 8 year old daughters.

My sister and I as little more than toddlers, mother putting our onesies on backwards so we couldn't take them off, having to go to the loo with them still on. Having the door handles put on upside down so that we couldn't reach up enough to open it to get to the loo so we ended up pissing ourselves. Having a daily diet of four slices of bread and the cheapest of generic vegetable spread as we weren't allowed mother's butter, being starved as punishment or just because she felt like it (having won custody of us only to spite dad), leading to malabsorption and osteoarthritis at the grand old age of twenty bloody six (3 years ago now), once a week we got an actual meal. Being around 8 or 9, visiting my auntie who was in hospital after having a stroke, having already had MS she was left paralysed, just 23 years old, granddad put together a system for her to speak by grouping letters and having her blink once for the stated grouping or letter or twice for basically undo. I gave her my only teddy which I carried everywhere, a stuffed donkey I got from Spain, she kept it. Staying in her house, continuing my habit of accidentally setting fire to the toaster, being left alone most of the night and going to look for mother in the village pub, finding her in one of her drinking competitions, walking in and vagblocking her, much to her frustration and anger. Being treated like a replacement husband, even trying to talk me into having a sex change despite only mild dysphoria, which was later greatly lessened by having an implant which stopped periods, eliminating most of the feeling of wrong (most cases of sex change regret are people who were abused, either treated like shit for their biological sex, treated as if they are opposite sex, or sexual abuse). Hearing about how the only way she'd get any when she was with dad was when he was asleep. Why did he end up dying a slow, agonising death while she gets to carry on regardless? Asking me about who I liked, later discovering exactly why she wanted to know, a man I care about was raped because I didn’t pick up on her ulterior motives. Having mother and her friends try to teach me to manipulate men, get them to pay for me, trying to turn me into a gold digger, only making me hate them even more. Coming of age (16), no longer eligible for child benefit, mother having been visiting friends more and more often until she didn't come back, only finding out that she'd been gradually moving out when we got the eviction order.

I'd been training myself to eventually join the army from the age of 5, once when I was 6 mother had asked me to go to the supermarket to get a bag of potatoes, she usually got a 20kg sack, must have taken me an hour to get it home, a man helping me carry it some of the way. When I finally enlisted I had to stop taking codeine for the malabsorption, it wasn't as much of a problem if I was eating every day (I usually forget as my body had been conditioned by neglect, not even bothering to remind me to eat any more), my hips had always made crunching and cracking sounds when I move, but as my body adjusted to the lack of codiene the pain became unbearable, upon being diagnosed with osteoarthritis I had to give up any hope of ever being a soldier, I've lost my purpose, and have nothing to replace it with, couldn't even work a whole shift when I got a factory job, humiliating, I'd informed the woman of my condition and she'd assured me that it was just a machinist job. It wasn't. It was everything you shouldn't do if you have any sort of hip problems. I'd never felt such agony and I'd fractured my bloody skull (at an LRP event). The woman was such a nasty bitch about it, she went from compassionate and understanding to mocking me for being upset that I was so damned useless now. I offered to forfeit my pay but her colleague, who also had arthritis and could no longer work the floor, was obviously far more genuinely empathetic than the woman, my brief boss was also sympathetic and even paid for a taxi to take me home after I refused an ambulance. The pain didn't subside for days.

I've never had a female friend who hasn't betrayed me, my "best friend" in school found it hilarious to punch me in the back in the middle of class, causing me to yell inadvertently as the air was knocked out of me. In year 8 the other kids stepped up their game and went from throwing stones to a house brick, when I got back to school she asked where the stitches were, just so she could punch me and reopen the wound. I was never allowed to retaliate, it would always be me who would be threatened with expulsion even if I only snapped after years of beatings which everyone knew was happening. Every birthday the other kids would falsely accuse me of something so I'd have to spend break times stood outside the headmaster's office, the equivalent of the stocks. Whether it was asperger's making me so unlikeable or if I genuinely am just a massive thundercunt, I never found out what I did to provoke them. Every time I put my trust in a woman it gets thrown in my face. My neighbour decided she was my best friend for life and would call at all hours of the day and night to get me to pick up her bloody methadone twice a bloody week, go to the chippy at 11 o'bloody clock at night, she's always trying to get me to take the pills she buys off a disabled neighbour. There are three things I refuse to take, hormones, anti-depressants, and sleeping tablets and she's always trying to get me to take them. The last straw was when her husband, who I got on very well with and whom she abused constantly, died, I told her to be careful what she wished for. When I finally called her out on using me she leapt immediately to the "after all I've done for you" bollocks.

Time after bloody time it's the same damned story, even regular everyday normal women will talk about things that would get a man arrested or at least publicly lambasted, that erections equal consent, that MGM is not at all a violation of the right to bodily autonomy, that it's absolutely fine and dandy to hit your male partner only to call the police if he defends himself, that female paedophiles shouldn't be punished because boys always want sex no matter what age they are but girls mature younger, right the way back to "We should have the vote but not have to pay with our lives as men had to in their millions while we shamed men and even underage boys into doing the same". What terrified me as a child was women's ability to completely turn off their empathy, the "woman scorned" is seen as karmic justice, there are people defending even the most brutal crimes:  assault, murder, rape, mutilation, over something as minor as rejection, or an accidental drive by fart, or just the crime of being a man who wanted a divorce. Empathetic sex my absolute arse.

A fellow MRA publicly humiliated Adam on a livestream when we went to the men's day march and conference, we were staying in an air B&B, Adam and Will Styles still riding the high of giving their first speeches, only for the woman to dredge up shit that was no one's bloody business and ruin the whole mood for no bloody reason, she also attacked 6oodfella on one of the hangouts. Another one was giving private information, with a vicious twist, poisoning the community against one of our group, Paul Elam didn't want to get involved and Janice Fiamengo immediately cut ties, treating him like a bloody criminal, what the hell did the woman say to her? I could see the Woolly Bumblebee thing coming a mile off, I worry whenever youtubers I like get girlfriends because they seem to either completely change or disappear, like Spino and Bread and Circuses respectively. I'm suspicious of female MRAs, I don't want to be but often even the sane ones are just tradcons. If it weren't for the Honeybadgers and you lot I'd have no hope at all.

The constant stream of "toxic masculinity", oppression, patriarchy, of women complaining that their air conditioned (which is also bloody sexist somehow), seated jobs at a till are paid less than the men (and women but they're not going to mention that) carrying heavy boxes, driving forklifts, working in a cold warehouse, and risking serious injury or death infinitely more than they ever will. The selfishness, solipsism, and sociopathy is too much. Throughout history women have never cared about men aside from ones they have a bond with, have never appreciated a damned thing men have done yet they demand that men prioritise them. Why should they?

I’ve seen and experienced the worst examples of female nature in action, “toxic femininity” if you will, and the difference in reaction to it, never being believed as a child no matter how many times I begged other family members and even strangers to please let me live with them instead, I’ll sleep in a tent, look I brought it with me. Pathetic, but you’d have thought someone would have cottoned on. I'm not going down the anti-women route as my sister has, given her own treatment of her partners and her own admission, she’s not so much pro male as anti-female, but it’s increasingly difficult not to resent them even if everything has a biological explanation. I still defend women if the facts bear it out, even if I don’t necessarily agree on a personal level, reals over feels, the people I agree with most also being female has definitely helped me not fall over the edge, one of whom feels very much as I do to the point where she doesn’t consider herself to be a woman due to her own observations and experiences. But the longer this goes on, the more laws are changed, media is poisoned, speech is suppressed, how the hell do I stop myself from just giving up entirely? How on earth can I stop myself from becoming an all out misogynist? Because it is women, not just feminists. It’s female nature being allowed to go unchecked, even when the same happens with male nature women are still prioritised. There are exceptions on both sides but it’s not enough to change the overall trend. There’s never been a balance, and because of human nature there never will be, which is where the problem lies. I know there’s no hope, that it’s utterly futile, completely pointless, and it’s driving me more towards extremism. I completely understand why we’ve lost so many MRAs to suicide. But I’m still going, even if the only way to make even the slightest change is to appeal to female self interest I’ll still do it. Everything I’ve been passionate about throughout my life is a pointless endeavour, I can’t stop myself from caring or change my fundamental character, it’s a downward spiral and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do about it.

[richincolor]

Group Discussion: Love, Hate & Other Filters

A searing #OwnVoices coming-of-age debut in which an Indian-American Muslim teen confronts Islamophobia and a reality she can neither explain nor escape–perfect for fans of Angie Thomas, Jacqueline Woodson, and Adam Silvera.

American-born seventeen-year-old Maya Aziz is torn between worlds. There’s the proper one her parents expect for their good Indian daughter: attending a college close to their suburban Chicago home, and being paired off with an older Muslim boy her mom deems “suitable.” And then there is the world of her dreams: going to film school and living in New York City—and maybe (just maybe) pursuing a boy she’s known from afar since grade school, a boy who’s finally falling into her orbit at school.

There’s also the real world, beyond Maya’s control. In the aftermath of a horrific crime perpetrated hundreds of miles away, her life is turned upside down. The community she’s known since birth becomes unrecognizable; neighbors and classmates alike are consumed with fear, bigotry, and hatred. Ultimately, Maya must find the strength within to determine where she truly belongs.

Review copy: ARC via publisher

Welcome to the Rich in Color discussion of Love, Hate & Other Filters. **Beware, there are some spoilers ahead.**

Crystal: There are so many reasons for me to love this book. Maya’s voice had me from the very beginning with the words, “Destiny sucks.” Her wry humor had me smiling so many times. Her passion for creating movies is also awesome.

Jessica: Seriously, what an opening line. Maya’s voice definitely grabs you from the get-go. I didn’t think of this until you brought it up, but the way Maya’s passion for filmmaking provides yet another lens for her life is fascinating. I’m looking at the cover (what a great cover), and what the title means is finally registering. I know, I’m a little slow on the uptake. Maya see her life through the filters of love, hate, and the narrative bent of filmmaking. And, on a meta level, the reader sees Maya’s life through her romance, the Islamophobia that harms her, and the snapshot moments of other people’s lives leading up to the terror attack and its aftermath. It really paints a complete picture.

Audrey: I agree, I really enjoyed Maya’s voice and the frequent camera/filmmaking references. Her little asides about how things would go if this were x sort of movie were fun. I really enjoy reading about characters who have passions that seep into many corners of their lives, and Maya’s habit of filming things was a great way to establish her character (and plot-relevant). Sometimes the best way to get to know a person is to dive deep into the things they geek out about, and Maya’s passion for filmmaking was a great way to get to know her.

Karimah: I liked Maya’s voice as well and agree with you Audrey that her “teen movie” asides were great. It gave us a great insight into who she is and how she sees the world, and I truly connected with her. I giggled a couple of times at some of her comments and loved that she had a great sense of who she truly at such a young age.

Crystal: Maya is facing several challenges because of family expectations. Her dreams do not exactly match up with their dreams for her. The love in the family is easy to see, but that doesn’t mean there is smooth sailing. In some ways it makes it even more difficult. It’s hard to go against the wishes of people who love you and want the best for you. I adored Maya’s aunt. If we all had a Hina in our lives, what a wonderful world it would be.

Jessica: I think what really grabbed my heart early on is Maya’s introduction of Hina, where she says that despite being so different, Hina and Maya’s mother are actually best friends. This really set the tone for me of how much love Maya had in her family. Her parents may have had very specific ideas and goals for Maya, but you knew that in the end, they would come to accept what made Maya happy — just like how Hina and Maya’s mother are best friends.

And of course, on the surface, Maya’s parents seem unreasonably strict, and Maya struggles against those restrictions. But when her parents shut down and rule out Maya’s dreams, not out of a desire to control her, but a desire to keep her safe in the aftermath of a terrible event, you can again tell that they do it out of love, even if they aren’t necessarily right. I think anyone – especially anyone from an immigrant background – can recognize that parental instinct, those warnings to keep your head down, do the safe thing, don’t stand out, stay safe. That really hit home for me.

Audrey: As an adult, when I’m reading YA, I often find myself torn between the parents and the teens. On the one hand, I totally get why Maya’s parents have those expectations for her and why they’re so upset when she springs her own desires on them; on the other hand, I sympathize with Maya wanting to forge a life outside of those expectations. Hina was a great character, not only because she often took Maya’s side, but because she established a model for Maya to follow. Hina is living proof that Maya can build a life that suits her while–someday–forging a more equal relationship with her parents.

I really empathized with Maya’s parents’ fears after the terrorist attack and how immediate the backlash was for their family. They remembered the Islamophbic outbursts of violence after the September 11, 2001, attacks, so of course their first instincts were to protect their daughter. While I wish they would have listened to Maya more, I can’t entirely fault them for their reaction.

Audrey: Were there any other characters you particularly liked besides Maya? I was very fond of Violet. She was close to everything I want my YA heroines to have in a best friend. She didn’t have as much screen time as I’d hoped, but I appreciate her support for Maya and how she cheered her on all the time.

Crystal: I totally loved Hina. Like Audrey said earlier, Hina proved that it was possible to carve out a life that fits your own dreams. She knew what she wanted and worked on maintaining relationships in spite of the hurdles.

Karimah: I liked Violet as well. I’m glad that she knew how to best support Maya in her budding relationship with Phil and was completely supportive of her after the terrorist attack. She was a great best friend for Maya and I love that she was written in such a manner. I also liked Phil as he was much deeper than the typical romantic lead. Usually the romantic lead is this idealized version the “popular hot guy” but he was actually the total opposite. I mean, the way Maya described him he seem attractive, but he had a secret himself and had the same family tension as Maya. He was also so sweet to Maya and supportive of her as well.

Crystal: The format of the book is a little unusual. Maya’s story is sequential, but it is interrupted with brief moments from another perspective. These interstitials (a new word for me) definitely add mystery and suspense. Some of them are also very unsettling. What did you think of this choice in the storytelling?

Jessica: At first, I was a little on the fence about it, because I knew where the story was going. I didn’t know how I felt about portraying someone about to commit a terrible crime. It was haunting and beautifully written, and definitely added a layer of suspense. It was, ahem, a great filter for the book. At the same time, I still am not sure how I feel about the portrayal of the terrorist in the aftermath (spoilers ahead, stop reading if you haven’t finished the book) — I guess, I’m always a little leery of narratives that show an abused child becoming a criminal when all too often, people who commit hate crimes are the privileged and angry, not the people who are most vulnerable in society. The terrorist had a mix of privilege and resentment, along with a terrible upbringing, so it’s certainly not a black-and-white narrative that I’d condemn. But it does unsettle me.

Anyway, that’s my long-winded way of saying, I think it added a lot to the book, while also shaking up my preconceptions about a lot of things.

Karimah: Since my WIP has interstitials (didn’t know that is what they were called) has them, I really enjoyed them. I felt like it gave us an insight into the terrorist’s mind as he leads up to the act. I like how they allowed us to connect to different people who were affected by the act as well. It brought the terror of the act, aside from how Maya’s family is affected, to life. However, like Jessica, I was a bit annoyed by the narrative of the abused child becoming a criminal. I felt like it was an “easy out” for the terrorist instead of being real with that he just had hate in his heart and a desire to cause destruction. I get it was trying to humanize him, but with so many terrorists of his ilk called “lone wolf” and humanized when Black and Brown victims of police are demonized, it hurt.

Audrey: The interstitials felt very cinematic for me. Maya’s the main character of this movie, if you will, so the camera mostly sticks with her, but the interstitials were brief cuts to the danger that had been building unbeknownst to her. That ramped up the tension for us as a viewer/reader, and then afterwards we got to see the truth unfold on the periphery while we stayed with Maya (because her story was the emotional center of the story). I think it was a fitting narrative device for this book.

But like you said, I was really disappointed that the abused child backstory showed up. Maybe I’m just bitter and angry and frustrated (hi, all of last year), but I’m entirely uninterested in any story trying to mitigate angry white men’s hateful actions, especially when we saw how much Maya and her family were hurt because of it.

Crystal: One last note about the romances. I had to smile with her first love interest. The actions were fairly innocent, but the descriptions were still quite sensual. The second romance was filled many roadblocks, but was a unique set of circumstances. It was complex and I also appreciated the ending that seemed very realistic. (Trying not to spoil too much here, but it’s not a fairy tale.)

Audrey: I thought it was great that Maya had two love interests and how both of those stories came to different conclusions. It was nice to see how messy feelings could get and how Maya tried to navigate both romantic options. (As a side bonus, I really liked the fact that the guys didn’t know about each other, so we didn’t have to endure any jealous posturing.) I’m really happy we got to see Maya exploring her feelings and sorting out what her heart really wanted.

Karimah: I really, really loved both romances because they were just so real and I feel that Maya handled both of them so well. She was honest with herself and her feelings and rightfully made the right call with her first romance and I loved the slow burn that was the second. It was refreshing that all of them were honest with each other and were able to talk through their issues. It’s so healthy and teens need to see what healthy relationships can look like. And I like that the end was more about Maya being in love with herself, standing up for herself, instead of a “happily ever after” with a significant other (sorry for the spoiler).

If you’ve already read Love, Hate & Other Filters, we’d love to hear your thoughts! If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, we recommend you get it soon.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story Part 72

The monumental 2008 election was upon everyone's mind in the small town of Pinehurst while I was visiting my grandmother. Somehow, I just hadn't noticed there was going to be an election – I was too wrapped up in my books, my collage art, my old horror films and television shows, and my interest in various religions. Of course, my grandma and my uncles and aunts up north all were McCain hopefuls. I have never met anyone from a small town that far north who weren't on the embarrassingly far right on just about every issue. My grandma was still upset about hippies shirking Viet Nam like it had happened yesterday. I pretended to agree with whatever people said – it's how I survived and maintained some kind of life for myself relying as I did on the charity of others, but the truth is I had no idea what to believe. I was often times told something terrible would happen in response to a left wing policy being passed, and I really didn't know. My head was a jumble of complex philosophical criticism of society on the whole, but I also had been misinformed politically for so many years when I was younger that I had abstained from listening to anyone about anything. I couldn't just 'pick a party', though my grandma's always had Fox News on, and as nonpolitical as I thought I was, I sometimes wanted to reach through the television and throttle the television personalities for their callous view of the poor, their subversive racist ideals, and their focus on none issues and fear mongering. In fact the only things I was certain about were now putting me to the left, legalizing gay marriage, legalizing weed, ending the war in the middle east, ending the death sentence and not bailing out the banks.

I didn't understand healthcare, but I was told Obamacare was essentially the end of my existence as I knew it – which given my life up to that point I questioned if that would be such a bad thing really. The current system was confirmably insufficient though too. For instance, had my father paid for me to finally get confirmed for having PCOS, I would have had to take medication that insurance companies could and would bar me from ever being able to be on their insurance for having a preexisting condition. So as far as I could tell, the system that had currently been in place had in it's own way, low key let me know that my health was not in consideration, and I was not really a member of society that anyone should care about. Maybe it would be better for the system if I just died, preventing future misery to myself and the taxpayers. I didn't ever say anything about it openly, but I had contempt for the current healthcare system, what little I understood, so Obamacare didn't scare me, and actually made me a little more hopeful about the prospects of maybe getting the healthcare I needed.

This was also a turning point for my grandma and members of my family to begin embracing the absurd. I think something really mentally unstable was happening to the right. This isn't to say that there was never something deeply troubling about that rhetoric, but there was this weird desperation, like they were losing their country and a tree was no longer just a tree. There was no agree to disagree, and most of the right wing folk I knew where elderly, or very bitter and the ideas of Alex Jones and many others were beginning to reach them. And that fear was becoming something. Everyone was raving about Barack Obama being a Muslim, being born in Africa, and even more insane theories. My grandma told me that Obama was going to make everyone over seventy-five go into death camps that he had already started paying the Chinese military to come over here and build.  And then at times, the same people who accused Barack Obama of being a Muslim would also say he was an atheist commy. I couldn't see how a person could both be in support of Sharia law and simultaneously be an atheist communist of the Stalin variety. I didn't understand how you could be both, as there seemed to be very little unifying features in the two ideas.

I didn't really have anything against Islam anyway. Aside from the fact that he just clearly was not, honestly, who cares if Obama was Muslim?  And even if he wasn't technically born in the United States (and he completely was), what threat did that pose against my well being? He was clearly not working for any other country. As for the Muslim accusations, furthermore, it bothered me no more or less than someone being a Christian, as I am not religious and I prefer it when wisdom comes from a different place other than socially accepted myths and a really old book that was at odds with itself.

I was a top expert at letting people take control of my life, but finding ways to either undermine that power or slowly but surely gain that person's confidence and gain sway and maybe some level of equality in so doing was always an undercurrent for me. In my heart of hearts, I didn't want to be anyone's pet, or to have to attempt to manipulate others to like me when, had I been given the same independence and freedom I would have been able to stand my ground or walk away. My grandma quickly over the course of these two months, opened up to me more than she had to anyone in a decade or maybe more, and it was in part because I didn't ever argue with her about her beliefs. Instead I listened, until I got to the heart of what she was trying to say and where she was coming from. Nobody realized who I actually was, or what I thought, and it was one of the few power dynamics that I had over those around me. If she really truly knew me, she would have thought I was awful and nihilistic, and likely wouldn't have wanted much to do with me. There is a lot of emphasis on being yourself at all times, but it's very hard to live up to when you are completely reliant on everyone around you. I let her see the side of me that she wanted to see – and that side of me wasn't a lie. I just hid the other half.

My eyesight had diminished even further. My eyes were so runny by this time from a need for glasses that people noticed me in the store. I looked like someone with an eye condition in the dark ages. It was sort of ruining the symmetry of my face, due to my constant squinting. I didn't even open my right eye anymore. It was tightly shut at all times, and when it opened at all, oozy liquid ushered on out and ran down my face. My eyes burned and stung almost continuously. It looked horrible. And of course, nobody really had done anything for me in this regard. Nobody wanted to take me to the eye doctor, or pay that kind of money. They just watched the years go by as my eyes became worse and worse. Somehow, I had become so accustomed to it, that even though it was kind of ruining things for me – even with my facial expression. I looked like I was glaring all the time and people thought I was mean - my grandma Marie, bless her for this, saw this problem for what it was and said no more. She set me up with an eye appointment. She had to pay out of pocket, and it amounted to several hundred dollars that had taken her months to save for, but she chose to spend it on me, to save my eyes. I remember feeling this weird confusion that she was willing to pay full price for me to see the eye doctor and for me to get a pair of glasses (which I now was not too good for). I didn't feel like I deserved it. I apologized and told her everything would be fine. I didn't know how comfortable I felt about anyone actually caring about how I was doing, or what my future held.

I went in and came out with a three hundred dollar pair of glasses and the appointment had cost another three hundred dollars. The idea of anyone spending six hundred dollars on me nearly gave me a heart attack. Thinking I was going to die at a young age had set in motion this idea that I didn't deserve equal treatment. I had very low standards for myself. I hadn't even realized how badly my eyes were, even though it was chronic and psychically obvious. Regardless of the dynamic of control, I will now and forever more say that my grandma getting me that pair of glasses might very well be the greatest acts of kindness ever bestowed upon me. Truly.

The eye doctors told me that one of my eyes was damaged in such a way, that had I not gotten glasses within the next five years I would have eventually lost eyesight in my right eye. Wearing glasses was actually going to improve my vision. The moment I put those glasses on, I was finally seeing the world in a way I never had. The whole world looked completely different, sharp and dramatic and intricate. I didn't realize that when you are driving you are supposed to be able to see the divots and individual gravels in the road. I didn't realize you could see individual leaves on trees even at a distance, or that pines had more depth to them. I could see things in people's faces that I hadn't before. I could see the imperfections of my own face in the mirror, and though this bothered me, it was probably the first time I was having a good honest look at myself – pours and all. Everyday items in the kitchen seemed brighter. Things seemed shinier. The carpet looked interesting with all it's individual soft clumps coming together to make a carpet. Psychologically, getting those glasses created an incentive for me to see the world in a new way, and for me to actually want to see it. I had long stopped going outside in the daylight if I could help it. The sun had just hurt my eyes too much. And now, I could go out and my eyes didn't hurt anymore.

Also, I suddenly realized how hard I had been squinting my eyes and what that had been doing to my cheeks and eyebrows. My eyes looked twice as big now – and when friends and family saw me, they said I looked like a completely different person. When I put those glasses on, I realized that there was no reason for me to clench my eyes, and when I stopped my cheeks began to tingle furiously for days, as this was the first time I had relaxed my face in about six years. It was weird to me that most people just relaxed their faces. I had been squinting so hard that it had permanently caused a slight difference in the muscles of my eyebrows, causing them to become slightly crooked to this day. I notice this more than others do, and it can be hid with make up if I am feeling up to it.

I didn't want to but my grandma hated my hair, so I let her take me to her favorite republican hairstylist and change my hair. Having literally bestowed on me the gift of sight – I didn't feel in the position to be complaining. She thought I looked like a hardened criminal with my bleached blonde hair. Besides I didn't really like my own hair either. It was totally fried due to me wanting to make it as white as possible. The hair near my neck had basically fallen out I learned later, from all the bleaching.

The salon in question wasn't your typical hair salon. It was in a very small building with American flags with matching red, white and blue hibiscus growing in pots by the front door to match. The hair stylist was extremely republican, and she loved the Bush family so much she actually had a picture of George W. Bush on the wall. They gave me the Rachel hair-do – as I was clueless and unsure of what I wanted, and dyed my hair a sandy soft brown. It looked better. I was nervous about having 90's Rachel hair, but my hair being as it is naturally curly, wouldn't take to a true Rachel look unless I straightened it and styled it that way each morning. My grandma and this hairdresser went on about how Obama was going to ruin the world, about how Obama was going to force abortions, and a lot of stuff that never happened. I had thought that controversial subjects were not good for business, but in fact, people seemed to like her because her ideas reflected theirs in this part of the world. I was basically opinionless on who should be president at the time, but I secretly kind of liked Obama – I liked the way he articulated his ideas. He was just likeable.

I was skeptical of 'hope and change'. I couldn't see escaping from all the corruption on an individual anecdotal microcosm of my own life, or the macrocosm of humanity as a whole without the world basically coming to almost an end I didn't think Obama was going to fix everything – and at the time I thought that you couldn't be liberal unless you were obsessed and agreed with every person in power with liberal values – an obvious fallacy. I think the underlying hatred was because Obama was black. Maybe not everyone who disliked him were against him for this, but from my personal experience, it was the deciding factor for many rural white voters. What ignorance.

There was a visit to my aunt Margie, who lived in Bonners Ferry, this gorgeous little town up in the northmost part of Idaho close to the border. My great aunt Margie is this fantastic woman with astounding character and energy, 96 years of age. She grew up incredibly poor. When she was still a teenager, she had decided she would travel the world and shirk conventionally acceptable female roles and lead a life of adventure instead. She left the United States and traveled on her own for several years all over Europe and other continents. She wore pants in the thirties and forties and was a complete contradiction of the typical women of her time. She chose not to have children.

When WW2  came around she became a nurse. After the war, she worked at a post office, where she met her her husband. He died six years later of a rare illness and she never dated or remarried or was with anyone else for the rest of her life. She became a machinist/carpenter/artist/inventor, and started her own successful machine shop that she ran herself in Seattle where she let sculptors and inventors use her shop to make their creations, often with her help. She became a well loved person in the Seattle art scene and she helped entrepreneurs make their ideas become real. I am told that she helped invent certain components to the pellet stove that are still used today.

Margie was a vegetarian for most of her life, though she sometimes ate fish at her doctor's behest. Margie wore whatever she wanted. She would dress up in bright colors, often favoring black and white striped tights, purple dresses, and large sunhats that she would put plastic fruit on. She was famous for her hats, which often times seemed bigger than she was. Obviously Margie was and is the gem of our family.

I had up to this point, never really met my great aunt before. She was having difficulties running her very sizable household and menagerie of animals. Margie was a devout Catholic and I remember when we parked, the day was overcast, and looking at her front lawn which was scattered with various Mother Mary's and crosses of every shape and size (some of them life-sized) and the bright colors and the expressions on the faces of the Mary's was somehow intense and dark and beautiful. We walked in, and blasting from every room (and there were many rooms) was the Catholic channel. She couldn't hear very well, and it was important for her to always be showing her devotion to the church. I watched distantly for hours, seeing nuns and priests chanting in Latin, carrying out Catholic strange traditions involving fancy goblets, crackers and pieces of cloth. It was world I could never fully understand, but there was a mysterious loveliness to it. Mother Mary's were, as I said, absolutely everywhere – even in the bathrooms. She had about six dogs, many of them being Pomeranian fluff balls of happiness, and I spent quite a bit of time with them. Outside she had these crazy Alpacas and a bunch of chickens and ducks and rabbits. It was hard to imagine a woman in her nineties being able to keep up with this.

Margie having all these animals was a bizarre story. One of her closest friends was this Catholic priest in the community who was about her same age at her. He and Margie were probably the last two surviving people from their generation in the town dedicated to Catholicism and for this reason they were very close. This priest was driving down a rural road one day in the middle of nowhere. There had been construction on this road that lead to a bridge, and the bridge was taken down, but there were no people around and there were no signs that indicated that the bridge was essentially a dead end that lead into a deep ravine. I can't imagine this happening in the 21st century but it did. He was pretty old too, and was losing his sight. So he ended up driving right off this bridge, and breaking just about every bone in his body, but somehow miraculously he survived (a good portion of his body was replaced by metal), and sued the company for several million dollars for their negligence on informing drivers that the road was basically a death trap.

He had nothing to do with this money really – he was old and donating it back to the church was probably what ended up happening to most of it, but I guess he wanted to make the best of it in the short time he had left (he died only a few years after the incident), and so he started buying animals like crazy. I guess thinking it would make him happy. And when he couldn't take care of those animals, he gave them to Margie, who was also going blind and was equally as old and would have difficulties taking care of them. However, Margie was very much in denial that she was going blind, and she drove till she was in her nineties even when she should have stopped, and she didn't think she was losing out on any of the spunk she had when she was young. She thought she could run a farm by herself (I think it was something she did at some point in her busy life, as well as build her own house). But she couldn't, and nobody in the community really stopped by to help. The only living relative that seemed to care about Margie was my grandma, and a great deal of my grandma's time was spent trying to convince Margie not to try doing home improvements anymore, and to try to start downsizing her life and changing her lifestyle to match her age, which, for someone as ambitious and independent as Margie was a real challenge.

We spent that rainy day packing things in boxes for Margie. She gave me special rosaries and Catholic charms. She started talking at one point about my grandma's upbringing. She wasn't someone who had a filter. She talked about things that made people uncomfortable sometimes, I am told she was always that way. It's strange because it seems like my grandma has this thick skin about everything that had happened to her in her life, but Margie seemed to see right through that. She started talking openly about how my grandmother had been wounded and mistreated by just about everyone she had ever loved at a young age, and I could see this strange vulnerable moment where my grandma seemed to sort of shrink uncomfortably. This one moment really helped me understand my grandma deeper. It was something I had never really thought about up to that point. I always saw my grandmother as rather invulnerable – a force of perfectionism and ultimate  judgment, and it was at this moment with Margie pointing it out, that I had a small opening to see a crack in that facade. My grandma was still a child underneath all of that.

There was/is something very warm and special about Margie's presence. She's very honest, and unusual. Looking at her life and her character, she makes it all look so easy. I like to think of her as someone I should aspire to. And proof that you don't have to become dull with age.

We went out to eat with these two people earlier in the day at Bonners Ferry. Margie forgot she made these engagements. It was a couple, both were both in their mid-fifties – obvious churchgoers. I thought they were phony and I didn't care for them much. We went to this small cafe and ordered breakfast food. I let my grandma order for me, as I had no idea what to order for myself (I was too nervous to think at restaurants most of the time). It was a very awkward encounter for me because they kept on asking me questions about what I was studying in college, or what my plans were to get married or have children. When people asked me questions like this it made me feel like a loser. When I explained that none of those things were happening, they looked at me weird, and back and forth to each other. I guess it really seemed particular to them that I wasn't going to college.

Back at my grandma's, I spent a great deal of those dark late fall days cutting up children's books and gardening books in the back room, adding to my collage collection for when I got back, listening to Stephen King novels on audiotape. My grandma was annoyed that I did this to the books – cutting them instead of keeping them, and looking back, I think there were a few I should have not cut up. She let me though, because she wanted to encourage me artistically. She really wanted me to become a successful painter like she had been. I felt some of this was projecting herself onto me, but getting that kind of encouragement meant a lot nonetheless. No adult had encouraged me artistically before. She gave me a large supply of acrylic and oil paints she was no longer going to use, as well as large stacks of canvases. It was a lot. I was set for years. Between getting me these glasses and giving me all these art supplies, I was besides myself.

She eventually offered to let me stay there. It was something she was hoping I would do. She wanted me to live in the back room perhaps, to help her with her garden, to maybe get a job in that small town, painting on the side – and eventually becoming good enough to maybe sell those paintings. She might have been hoping that I would become a small town person, choosing to marry a local and having a family up there. She promised to help me learn to drive. She explained that I would be away from my mother and father and older sisters, away from all that chaos and negativity, that my grandma saw me as too good for.

She didn't want to be alone for the last years of her life. I would have a place of my own. But ultimately, I knew it wouldn't work. For one, I had held back a lot of my personal beliefs and opinions, and I knew I couldn't live that way if it was permanent. She would eventually discover that we had different values. Secondly, my grandma was racist, and this was big issue for me. She didn't think she was of course, but she actually was extremely racist. Yeah, she liked me, because I am white, but it would never feel right to me. It bothered me to hear her go on about how whites were being suppressed, and how black people are basically inherently violent and I couldn't live with that. I would eventually have exploded. And she was too old to change her mind. Perhaps I didn't want the narrow politics and thinking of the small community to rub off on me.

Fox News was blaring in the living room everyday too. I loved her dogs, but if you know Yorkies, they get old really fast, licking you in the face each morning with their weird face hair dangling. They seemed to constantly need me. And I already had Shorty down at my mom's place to take care of. I couldn't abandon him. I would also have missed Allison. I don't think I could live without Allison in my life. My father was beginning to fight with her, and with David too for that matter, and I was afraid he was going to become physically abusive towards them in the same way he had been me. I wanted to be there for her in her early teen years at the very least. I wouldn't see much of her if I lived up north. I didn't feel right leaving her. Ultimately, though, I think my grandma wanted me because she thought I was a younger version of her and she liked the control she had over me. She wanted to be able to control what I ate, my hair, my clothes. I was a project that could have kept her busy. I hesitate to try to paint her as some kind of selfish evil being. She really wasn't – she showed more decency to me in particular than my parents had. But she had issues. She was projecting her own personality onto me, and if I continued to take gifts I would begin feeling more and more guilty about accepting them, and I would get trapped. Plus, this stuff was all comfort. She offered me a sort of stable comfort that didn't match who I was inside. I really felt there was some great calling to me, out there somewhere. I didn't know what it was, but I did know I didn't want to marry some local car mechanic and have two children and own a house and have McCain signs in my yard, regardless of how cheap real estate was.

People often think I am them. It might be because I am submissive, or because I can entertain other people's beliefs without adhering to them. Maybe I am open in a way and it is relatable to others. I can be chatty at times, but there are certain kinds of people I just prefer to listen to. Perhaps it's just this incredibly big hole in my identity, some void that was created  that has caused me to I stayed a child, or some kind of wound that caved in on itself and became a black hole. I seem to know who I am – but then is anyone ever a static entity? We are all in the process of constant change, and the older I get the less I see myself as having a core identity. Perhaps I am vulnerable to people in a way. There is something a little choppy and malleable about me – often times in my psychological blind spots. I often times feel more or less like I am playing a part in a play – tricking myself to believe it's all real. Not like a sociopath. But like someone who's not really a total someone. I just have this void in me, and it's hard to explain. And I think people identify that void on a very primitive level and fill it with their own identity. I don't know if I am explaining that well.

My grandma was right in seeing the symbiosis of the situation, but ultimately, it was a role I was not willing to fill. There were a lot of unspoken aspects that would have become painful future problems And I didn't want to become a miniature her. I would eventually reject what she had offered me. I didn't want to sour a good relationship with her. I can definitely see how me rejecting this offer might strike people as being very foolish. I had  less than nothing at my parents who more or less used me as a punching bag, and I suffered a lot of abuse from the both of them. I still felt this inner fire of wanting to be something more. There had to be more to life than becoming stable. I didn't want to give up that something, and I knew that living with my grandma would have involved me living a very controlled lifestyle that would have eventually cut into who I was as a person. Ultimately, I felt like would be settling. I couldn't just be myself and live up there. There was a price.

I really wanted out of these small towns. I wanted bright lights of a large city spanning out as far as could be seen – so I could see infinite lives and existences crammed before me. I wanted to be around all kinds of walks of life. I wanted to walk down city streets at night and see all the nightmares of human beings up close and personal, and also experience and see the greatest of human potential. I love looking at nature. I love lakes, and the way the mist would gather around the mountains and in many respects, I loved walking into small town diners and being able to see the stars at night. But I would never connect to anyone and it wasn't the kind of growth I needed. And think, when you are fortunate enough in the rare set of circumstances when you get one opportunity in a small town, either you find someone you can connect with, or you get a job you are like, in that small world, once you lose that something, there is no future and every part of that town is tinged with regret and sadness, in a place that small. In a city, there is always a new beginning a new face, and a new way of life waiting for you. It's never the end in the city. You can grow all over. There is always something new to move onto.

Lastly, and perhaps most critical to my decision to continue my futile struggle with my parents was that Sarah emailed me around that same time, and she told me that she was done with living in Texas. Working there was killing her soul, and she didn't see her and Alex going anywhere with their lives. They didn't end up writing songs or making music. She had told Alex that she was moving back to Idaho, and he could stay or go, but she was going. He chose to go with her – but her having decided individually to leave alone – or with him was indication that in a way their relationship was already on the rocks – even if they didn't fight. Sarah told me she was going to do everything she could to help me get back on my feet. She was going to help me get my social security card, help me find work, help me integrate back into society somehow. We were both ready to try being close again, this time without fighting like insecure teenagers that we were. We had both learned a ton of humility from our separate existences, she working and realizing what she actually wanted in life and how to take control of her life situations, and me, having had to confront my own insecurity and ego. I truly missed Sarah. We both wanted to be in a band together still, and to work on manga comics together. We were so excited. I didn't feel like I had to be anyone I wasn't with her. And eventually, we wanted to move away from Idaho altogether, maybe Seattle or something. It almost sounded too good to be true, so of course I was going to move back to my parents and wait it out.

PART 71 - https://tinyurl.com/y6v3ln9a

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-60 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far). 

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-70

[citricsunshine]

Weakness of Identity

Sometimes I wonder if my sense of identity is just really weak. Weaker than most people. It probably is.

Some of it may be belonging to multiple marginalized groups. As, for instance, an ace, you aren’t supported by the general culture, and community is hard to come by, especially in person.

The biggest thing for me I think is my family background. My family is very silent. They hardly talk about anything of substance. And I mean anything. Like family history, or opinions, or....anything that’s not small talk or necessary planning. Like....when I was 18, my dad told me, prompted by what I forgot, that he was agnostic atheist. I didn’t know that. Nothing was ever said about spirituality whatsoever and I didn’t even wonder. After I became Muslim at age 24, my mom told me she did believe in some sort of higher power, which I actually found shocking. That, being more of a something rather than a lack like atheism, I thought she might have said something about. But no. I also only learned a year or two ago, age 27 or 28, that my dad has had hearing loss in one ear SINCE BEFORE I WAS BORN. And this is just how it is. They just...don’t feel the need to say anything ever about themselves. It’s also okay apparently to deliberately not tell me when my dad had cancer and surgery, which I only found out because I specifically asked about medical history because I was moving out last January.

The one thing I do remember strongly being encouraged from my parents was intellectual development. They’re both engineers. And I do love math and science, yes. Their lessons also included a strong emphasis on objectivity, especially from my dad. And...I’m sure he didn’t say so explicitly, but what I ended up learning was that identity is bad. It can only detract from objectivity. In fact, I remember when I did learn about my dad’s religious thoughts, and later his political opinions, he said he specifically didn’t want to tell me these things so that I could develop my own opinions. As a teenager I spent a long time hating that I fell into any categories whatsoever. Maybe I could minimize some identities, but some things like race and sex can’t be erased.

I think for a long time I got by okay with a weak sense of identity. Even if I didn’t fit in in school, society itself gave me, externally, a place to be as a white girl/woman. I found social roles to follow. Even being ace, I was able to find a sense of meaning in the sorta “good girl” role. It probably helped being younger, supported by parents and in school (i.e. not in the so-called “real world” with “““adult problems”““).

Well, I think it was vulnerable. And indeed many hardships piled up over time. Like mental illness. Mental illness was a huge isolating factor. But even that I don’t think was quite a threat to my identity, only a vulnerability factor.

Becoming Muslim was a huge shakeup. No longer could I feel supported by society, or at least that I had some kind of place to fit into. Certainly not among non-Muslim white people. Not in the same way. Like I’m not really the in-group anymore. Like I might be covered under the word “white” but no one would ever have someone like me in mind when they said it. I also feel distant because my own mindset/opinions/culture has shifted.

I chose to become Muslim. Other things I didn’t chose, like being a woman or ace. Previously I was atheist. Most Americans aren’t atheist, but there are more of them than Muslims, and more social support. But also, things like atheism and asexuality are identities based on what you aren’t. If I wasn’t something, I think it was like...I could belong anywhere. Individual, personal loyalties were what mattered.

Oh, I feel like so many of these statements come out so weird. I never fit in well anywhere, and yet I just said in the last paragraph that I could belong anywhere. I was never socially adept, always on the margins. And I said above I don’t fit in with white people, and yet I have several white friends and have met new white people since becoming Muslim. But the potential to...find people or groups that I can fully relate to....I dunno. That might be what I’m getting at. I can get along with people and be awesome friends, but are they “my” people??

Anyway, I chose to be Muslim, feeling wrong in that it compromised my feelings of group belonging and that it added an identity. The identity only got heavier over time. And over time I felt more distressed, in a way nothing had ever made me. I have struggled finding some way to counter this feeling, and gain new feelings of belonging.

I end up wondering if it’s just me. Do other white Muslims, or perhaps other converts, feel as distressed as I have? Do they question as much as I have? Do they obsess over it enough to check out dozens of library books and write 30k words!? (maybe not that one lol). I wonder if it’s just because I have always had a weak sense of identity. And because I’ve been so mentally ill and isolated, with nothing much better to do than Tumblr and obsessive research.

I research to try to understand things like race and ethnicity and nationality and culture and religion and what those concepts are. I read history to try to find people to identify with. I end up wishing I knew more about my own family, to at least get a stronger sense of myself there. Well, it’s not too late to ask, even if I think I’ll only get so much info (and I’m terrible at the whole asking part).

I have gotten less distressed over time thankfully. And I’ve had enough time to think about all this “identity” stuff and learn that it’s not evil to fall into categories (yeah...that’s literally what it came down to when I was a teen. That it was immoral). I’m still pretty poor at expression of identity, but I do have identities at least. And they’re growing stronger, and I more comfortable with them.

[jujuismental]

So.. I had a long distance relationship.. and it was the hardest thing ever.. although beautiful in its own way. All the time I spent with this person felt dreamy and special because we only saw each other sometimes throughout the year. Most of the time it was a vacation or a tour of our home countries (which i loved). It was sort of like the highlights of a relationship without the mundane ordinary routine parts.

She was a girl. We met while she was studying a language in my city and we fell in love. She had to go back to her home country but we kept on talking. We could talk forever. We had a bit of fun doing long distance. We were pretty damn good at it. Eventually I went to visit her in her home country and we began a relationship. Still nothing else was planned at the time.

We did a lot of travelling together. And still, every time I saw her again, for example at the airport, I felt this ‘strangeness’ seeing her in person. Like are you real? Is this happening? Her smell, her voice..you feel like you are hallucinating them. To touch her again after months is the most amazing feeling ever. I loved it.

But it couldn’t go on forever like this. For a long distance relationship to work, at some point there comes a time when one person in the relationship compromises and moves to the other person’s city/country. For us, it was difficult to do that. That’s what broke our relationship, even though we were so good at long distance, we couldn’t end the distance.

When we were doing long distance I really hoped that she might do her masters in my country since she was planning on studying her masters abroad anyway.. She considered that, but unfortunately we had a huge fight when the time came and she ended up going to another country. That meant that we wouldn’t be able to end the distance for the foreseeable future. She always used this argument against me. “Why does it have to be me that moves for you, you wouldn’t do the same.”

I want to express this because.. it makes me feel so misunderstood. She always argued that it was because of my job or my love for my country. I swear, it would be my dream to run away to any country with her and just be with her because she makes me the “me” I want to be, my full self. I was looking for her for 20 years and when I found her in my city I never wanted to let her go.

We started having problems because I was afraid of my family. Her family was fortunately accepting of her, maybe not super proud, but for the most part accepting. To me that’s something I dreamed about, but could never really have. I always heard these beautiful stories of people coming out to their parents and I knew that was never going to be me. She never understood that my family could never even come close to that level of acceptance. I was pressured to come out, and disclose my new relationship just as she did with her parents days after meeting me. I get it, she deserves that. But at the cost of my safety? Muslim families, especially extreme ones can do anything they want to you, more so in muslim countries. It helped that I was in Canada and my brother was also LGBT (somewhat out of the closet). But my family wasn’t just my brother, my family was spread out across multiple countries and huge (and they all talk to each other). I worried they would find out and marry me to a man or something. It’s a totally different situation, yet she compared her situation to mine all the time and I was always seen as the weak one in the relationship. She’s stronger than me, I know it. It was hard for her to come out, and she still battles with it. But at least she knows that she’s safe and accepted by her parents. You hear only positive coming out stories, but you never hear about those scary stories of LGBT people in Islamic communities. For some people, it’s actually impossible and life threatening to have love. I was fortunate to live in Canada. It took a lot for me to get rid of the fear I had, to have courage to come out to my mother. It was something I never imagined.

But if I wanted to be open and not worry about myself, I needed to take some cautionary steps first, incase my family came after me. So I moved to a different city, and I got a job and my own apartment. Being independent helped me become open (away from my family). Maybe I was being dramatic, but I wanted to play it safe, after all they could outnumber me. I also worried about her, and how my family might threaten her to stop seeing me. I worried about her too.

I did things very slowly, because I was scared. The time came and went for me to come out and announce my relationship. I struggled with this, and it hurt my relationship a lot. I think it was because I grew up in fear for twenty years never thinking I would be able to live something like this. Since I was younger, I contemplated suicide instead, pretty much all my life. Like that’s how much I thought I couldn’t go through with my life. But then I met her and suddenly I had this courage and hope and I took small steps, and I wasn’t keeping up with her big steps and she wasn’t happy anymore. Eventually when I came out to my mom, it was already too late in the relationship. I knew she deserved much better than me. I was hoping that she would stay with me even though it was hard, but she didn’t have to...Why would she? She could easily find someone else who wouldn’t have as much problems as me. And she did. I remember when we first met, the first time I opened up to her about this, she cried and wanted to help me...and she did, but after 2 years I guess she gave up on me and that hurts.

And if you’re wondering, no my mom didn’t support me, she doesn’t approve of my sexuality at all. She doesn’t want to meet the person I love. She doesn’t want me to see her again. It still felt amazing to tell her the truth, I never thought that would happen. I also told my friends and brother. She made me brave enough to do those things, it was incredible how much she changed my life. I still have a long way to go, I know..but this was something I thought I would never do. She made a lot of my dreams come true. They were truly the best days of my life.

So you’re thinking, Jumanah why didn’t you just pack your bags and move away with the love of your life. We argued a lot about this in the relationship and I don’t know if anyone who hasn’t lost a parent could understand me fully. Maybe if I hadn’t lost my father I wouldn’t have these crazy attachment issues towards my mom, and I wouldn’t feel bad to abandon her and run away. I worry that I might lose her too, just like I lost my dad. I worry that she might grow old alone without me taking care of her. I worry that one day, a car could hit her just like what happened with my dad. I worry that my dad might not be happy with me leaving my mom. I worry that I am not spending enough time with her, and that when I leave away to some other country she might die and I will have the same pain again. It was the same scenario, just like when I left the country, my dad passed away weeks later. I couldn’t go to his funeral, I felt so much regret. It’s an awful feeling and I wish it wasn’t this way. I don’t know what’s the right choice, but I can never choose between her and my parents, and I had to make that choice somehow. I will probably love her more than anyone in the world, and I don’t want to be with anyone else other than her. But my mom and dad, I can’t face that pain again.

I tried to communicate this sad story to her so many times yet she always thought it was unfair for me to ask her to move here instead of me moving to her. I would, I swear I would. I loved her country, I love anywhere with her. She could make any place a great place. I really wish she would understand it’s not about the country or me or my job (even though I said that my job was important without her I was crying in the middle of Toronto on a bench wishing I could end my life). I make decisions with my emotions. The reason I didn’t leave to go with her was about losing my Dad and my fear of losing my mom. And now I am heart broken because I’ve lost her. And I have my mom but, I’ll always want her. I’ll always want to be with her. But I couldn’t do it because of the traumatic experience that happened to me. It breaks my heart that she couldn’t move here for me, knowing my circumstances. She used to call me selfish and that used to make me feel so sad because she doesn’t know how I feel. I am so sensitive too. It was the most painful thing I felt losing my dad.

There was a time when she was considering moving here but we had a huge fight, and then she wouldn’t do it anymore. She said I had to move for her to continue the relationship. Again she called me selfish so many times and it hurt, because all I could think about was my dad and my mom. Then a few months later she made the decision to move to a far away country to do her masters and it killed me. I was screaming from pain. I hurt her, I deserved something bad, and I got it. I sent some mean texts when I was mad at her, but I swear I didn’t mean any of it. It’s like when your mother gets mad at you and wishes you weren’t born, of course you don’t believe her and the next day you carry on. I didn’t mean it I was just really mad out of my mind. I imagined my whole life with her and I couldn’t handle it.

I didn’t want to lose her. I had some person in my past I didn’t tell her the full story about. But she never told me about any of her exes, and beside she wasn’t my ex she was just a friend I had a bad experience with. Because of those stupid texts and me breaking her trust when that girl texted me, we broke up. We went through so much together I can’t believe this broke us up. She has the right to say other things that were wrong, and other bad things I did, and her own side of the story and I might be wrong to think that we were good for each other but I love her. I love her. I was crying for months, in pain. It doesn’t feel good to hurt someone you love. I was so sorry about what I did. I never believed that we needed to break up permanently because of that fight. I believed we deserved another chance because of everything we went through and how much we loved each other. I was so sorry, but she never believed I was. She decided to go somewhere else and I guess it was better for her, financially and educationally. But I was emotionally destroyed, I even felt suicidal again because I felt helpless. I almost did it, I couldn’t calm down. I cried almost everyday. She said I hurt her but, I am hurting everyday non stop. I want to be with her. She wasn’t talking with me, I begged her to talk to me for me to feel okay. I did rely on her alot, but shes always been my best friend and someone I passionately love. She started talking to me again, and I didn’t mind the circumstances, I would call her all the time, even with a 12 hour time difference because I love her. I’d spend my lunch breaks with her. I didn’t want to ever let her go. She’s the one I want to spend my time with.

I still have tears when I walk on the streets of my city thinking what if she was with me, still to this day. I felt like I was forced to let go of the love of my life because of my own personal issues about grief and loss. She wouldn’t understand where I was coming from and I needed her to understand to appreciate me instead of attacking me. I relive the moment in my head a thousand times and wish I hadn’t sent those texts and I suffer endlessly over something I didn’t mean. I’m still crying over it, and I probably will forever because she was the one. I know.

And my heart is with her and my parents. Always. Now she is with someone else, and I have to watch her love someone else. I am forever heart broken.

I love you I just want to be with you. I would be anywhere you are. Maybe some day I will have the courage to get past my attachment and grief experiences, and live with you in some cute apartment

[bangkokjacknews]

How I was tricked into killing Kim Jong Un's brother

Young mother fooled into smearing Kim Jong Un's brother with deadly nerve agent in 'prank' that she thought would make her a YouTube star is tracked down to remote village

They were words Siti Aisyah had long dreamed of hearing, spoken by the filmmaker who had plucked this naive farmer's daughter from obscurity in order to make her a star. 'If today goes well you will be known all around the world,' he told her. 'You can become a famous actress.' In some ways the filmmaker was right: Siti did indeed become world famous – but not for the reasons she expected. Instead her name is now synonymous with one of the world's most audacious murders, the assassination of North Korean tyrant Kim Jong Un's playboy brother Kim Jong Nam. He died in agony in February 2017 after being smeared with the deadly nerve agent VX at Kuala Lumpur international airport. He had been killed in broad daylight – by two young women who maintain they believed they were taking part in nothing more than a simple prank for the video sharing site YouTube. Despite their protestations of innocence, Siti and her fellow 'actress', Duong Thi Huong, faced the very real prospect of the death penalty and spent more than two years in prison – much of it in solitary confinement – before they were dramatically released earlier this year when the murder charges against them were unexpectedly dropped. Ever since, Siti has determinedly kept a low profile, returning to her remote home village in rural Indonesia to try to pick up the pieces of her life. Only now, tracked down by The Mail on Sunday, has she decided to tell her extraordinary story in full for the first time. In turns remorseful, angry and bewildered, Siti describes how it feels to have been so ruthlessly exploited by killers who did not care if she too would live or die. Indeed, it is only by fluke that she didn't succumb to the deadly poison herself. 'I had no idea what I had done,' Siti says, fighting back tears. 'They told me they were going to make me a star. I feel so foolish for believing them so easily. I didn't know who Kim Jong Un was before all of this. I didn't even know where North Korea was. I feel bad about what happened to Kim Jong Nam and I wish I had never been involved. If I could turn back time, I would never have agreed to do any of it. 'When I got out of prison I looked up my name on the internet and finally realised what it had all been about. I thought, 'How can I have been caught up in such a big murder case involving these important people?' I am just a girl from a small village. I just believed I was playing pranks. That's all I ever thought.'

He had been killed in broad daylight (CCTV footage shows the moment of the attack) – by two young women who maintain they believed they were taking part in nothing more than a simple prank for the video sharing site YouTube Certainly few could deny that Siti makes the most unlikely of assassins. Tiny and looking much younger than her 27 years, it is hard to believe she is the mother of a ten-year-old boy, Rio, who was just seven when she was imprisoned. Her story reads like something out of a far-fetched paperback thriller: a beautiful young woman is recruited by secret agents to fulfill a deadly and clandestine mission. Her excuse – that she didn't know anything about the murder plot – is even more outlandish. Yet meeting her in the modest home she shares with her devout Muslim parents in an impoverished village goes some way to explaining that. Their simple one-storey house is down a dirt track flanked with coconut and mangrove trees and the living room wall is decorated with treasured family photographs and verses from the Koran.

The victim complains to to officials at Kuala Lumpur international airport moments after he was smeared with the nerve agent Siti's interest and knowledge of the wider world is sketchy at best: she couldn't tell you, for example, who Donald Trump is. The youngest of three children, she left school at 12 and, by 17, was married with a son. 'I was only happy for the first three months. I soon found out my husband liked gambling and women and never supported me financially,' she says. The marriage broke down and she left her son in the care of her parents-in-law to become one of thousands lured into making a living in the sex industry in the Malaysian capital Kuala Lumpur. By 2017 she was working as a masseuse in the city's Flamingo hotel, and picking up night-time clients at the sleazy Beach Club Cafe where, in the small hours of a January morning, she had an encounter with a taxi driver which would change the course of her life for ever. 'He told me he had a Japanese client who was looking for someone to act in a reality TV show and he said I had just the right look,' she recalls. Flattered, Siti went to a meeting in an upmarket shopping mall the next day where she met 'James', who told her he was a Japanese TV producer making Candid Camera-style shows for YouTube. In fact, James – real name Ri Ji U – was a 30-year-old North Korean agent. Unable to speak Indonesian, he communicated via Google Translate. Siti's first 'job' was straightforward enough, if a little odd – and at £80, the pay was lucrative: she merely had to approach three men at random in the local mall and smear baby oil on them before apologising and walking away while James filmed it on his iPhone. 'Afterwards he told me I had done a good job and there would be more work like this for me,' she recalls.

Kim Jong Nam (pictured) died in agony in February 2017 after being smeared with the deadly nerve agent VX at Kuala Lumpur international airport 'I was nervous about doing the pranks at first in case someone reacted badly or hit out but I was very happy to have the work. I questioned why anyone would want to watch this sort of thing but they told me Japanese audiences loved it and the videos were being edited in Singapore for a big TV show. 'I had earned 400 ringgits (£80) for 15 minutes' work. In the hotel where I worked as a masseuse I only earned 20 ringgits (£4) for each customer.' In the following weeks, Siti was summoned by James to carry out similar pranks in other malls and at Kuala Lumpur airport. The drill was always the same: James would put lotion on Siti's hands before she approached her bemused victims from behind and wiped her hands on their face. Then, after a quick apology, she would make a swift exit and pocket a payment – now increased to £100 – for each successfully completed 'prank'. Never once, she says, did she question the nature of her new work – which she now knows was, in reality, training for just one single murderous mission. 'James told me he would take me to America,' she recalls. 'I even gave him my passport so he could arrange visas for me. I was very excited. I thought this was going to change my life and I would be able to leave my old life behind.' Siti admits she was developing feelings for James – and that may well have made it easier for her to dispel any lingering misgivings. 'I liked him because he was handsome, but he was shy around women,' she says. Their friendship did not last: within weeks Siti was flown to Cambodia and linked with another 'producer' called Mr Chang – in reality another Korean handler by the name of Hong Song Hac. Mr Chang spoke fluent Bahasa, Siti's mother tongue, but she says: 'I didn't like him. When he got serious, I was a little bit afraid of him.' The work was the same however, and Siti continued to film pranks for money in both Phnom Penh and Kuala Lumpur. Behind the scenes, the North Koreans were desperately trying to track Kim Jong Nam – who was constantly on the move – in order to carry out their deadly plan. The only credible rival to his brother, they had long fallen out and for years he had been a dead man walking as the regime suspected he was passing secrets to the US. As the North Koreans closed in on their target, they tracked him as he returned to Malaysia where, police sources confirmed to The Mail on Sunday, he met a CIA agent and exchanged a laptop full of data for a wad of $100 bills. Two days before the assassination Siti, now back in Kuala Lumpur, recalls being given a $200 bonus by Mr Chang. 'When I asked what the money was for, he said it was because I worked very well in Phnom Penh and his boss was very happy with me.' She was told her next job could propel her to international stardom. 'I didn't think I was going to be famous,' she insists. 'I liked the money.' It's clear that she was flattered, though, and was convinced enough to tell her friends at a 25th birthday party at Jakarta's Hard Rock cafe the following night. In what proved to be an eerily prescient clip, captured on her mobile phone, one of Siti's friends boasts that 'Siti is going to be a celebrity.' Little could they imagine the reason why. The following day Siti arrived at a Kuala Lumpur airport coffee shop to meet 'Mr Chang' for a briefing on her latest prank. He told her this one would be slightly different: not only did he have a particular target in mind but Siti would carry it out with another 'actress' who at the last moment would approach him from another direction. As with every previous prank, the 'filmmaker' then took out a small container, the size of a hotel shampoo bottle and poured liquid on to Siti's hands, pointed out her target in the busy airport departure lounge, and sent her off in his direction. 'Mr Chang told me the man was a big boss in his company,' she says. 'He said he was very arrogant and might get angry so I should carry out the prank and then get away as quickly as I could.' It's one reason Siti admits she was unusually nervous as she walked towards the man she now knows was Kim Jong Nam. She recalls being just two steps away from him when her accomplice Huong suddenly cut across her path from a different direction and placed her hands over his eyes. 'He looked annoyed and upset,' Siti says. 'I thought, 'He looks like a rich man and he is clearly angry and he might report us to the police.' Initially, intelligence officials thought that each woman may have been carrying different chemical components which, though harmless on their own, would create a deadly compound when mixed together. In fact, both women were carrying the lethal VX poison on their hands and were very nearly killed themselves in the process. Siti and Huong fled in different directions after the attack and both went straight to different washrooms to clean the sticky liquid off their hands – an act that would almost certainly save their lives. Just yards away Kim Jong Nam was writhing in agony on the concourse floor, his vital organs shutting down one by one. It would later emerge that Kim Jong Nam was carrying an antidote to VX in his backpack but in the grip of blinding pain had not thought to use it. After approaching airport officials he was taken to a clinic and died in an ambulance on the way to hospital.

Siti Aisyah (pictured), smiled as she was seen leaving Shah Alam High Court in Malaysia in March after prosecutors unexpectedly dropped the murder charge against her Oblivious to the unfolding horror, Siti would then spend three hours ambling around the airport's shopping mall, buying clothes and having lunch before returning to the city's Flamingo hotel where she worked as a masseuse between filming assignments. So unaware was Siti of the international drama that when, two nights later, police arrived to arrest her, she initially thought it was another YouTube prank. They said, 'Where were you on the 13th? Were you at the airport?' I said yes, I was shooting a video. They asked why I didn't ask for permission and said, 'Come with us to the police station.' I thought it was just a random police check on foreign workers. 'Then at the police station they told me I had been involved in the murder of a president's brother. I just laughed and said 'You must be joking' and asked them to give me my passport and my phone and let me go home. But they got angry with me and put me in handcuffs.' Siti was taken to hospital, where traces of VX were found on the top she was wearing at the airport. It was a fortnight before she was allowed to see a lawyer ahead of her first court appearance where she was charged with murder – a crime which in Malaysia carries a mandatory death penalty. 'I was absolutely terrified when I realised I might be executed,' Siti says, her eyes once more filling with tears. 'I was so confused. How could I be in this situation? I cried every day for three months. I couldn't eat and I couldn't drink. I thought I'd never see my son again. With a forthcoming trial hanging over her, Siti spent the first year of her imprisonment in solitary confinement, her only company aside from legal and embassy visits the prison guards who watched her room and mercilessly taunted her. 'They asked me if I wanted to commit suicide because it was such a big case that I was involved in. Another time one of them told me that if I didn't plead guilty, North Korea would bomb my home country, Indonesia,' she says. Her only contact with her parents meanwhile was a weekly 15-minute phone call. 'The first time I called them I just cried,' she says. 'Even now my parents have never asked me about the case. They've seen it on the TV news, so they know what it was about, but they don't want to think about what I've been through.' After several months of agonising delays, Siti's trial was set to begin in March. Then in another dramatic development the murder case was dropped. No reason was given, with Malaysian prime minister Mahathir Mohamad insisting there had been no negotiations but that the decision had merely been in line with 'the rule of law'. Her charge was reduced to 'administering a poison', a crime for which she had already served the necessary jail time. Siti's lawyer Gooi Soon Seg told The Mail on Sunday that the real killers must be brought to justice. 'It was a brilliant plot when you think about it. The plan was for Kim Jong Nam to walk straight on to his flight and die on the plane. It would have been classified as a heart attack and everything would have gone unnoticed. 'They brought VX into the country – that is tantamount to a declaration of war,' he says. 'The people who planned this murder should absolutely be brought to justice.' It's perhaps a final irony that her own role in this political killing helped Siti to achieve the celebrity she craved: treated like a VIP upon her release, she was flown home by private jet and taken straight to see the Indonesian president. For two months she was guarded in a safe house until the security risk was reduced. There are more tears when Siti recalls how, during her absence, her son Rio had grown so tall that at their emotional reunion she could no longer scoop him up into her arms as she used to. 'We had been apart for more than two years. I told him I was so sorry, and I hadn't been able to contact him while I was in prison. He didn't answer. He just smiled and hugged me tightly.' She adds: 'I have to accept that I was gullible. I am angry and upset with James and Mr Chang because I told them so many personal things and confided in them – then they put me in this terrible situation where they didn't care if I lived or died.' Today, six months on, she is studying to become a beautician and claims to want to put her notoriety behind her. 'I want a better future' she insists. 'I want to have more children and maybe someday I will marry again if I find a good man.' Nonetheless, she still seems strangely seduced by the fame that found her in the deadliest of circumstances. 'Who would imagine that someone like me, who only went to primary school, could become world famous?' – You can follow BangkokJack on Instagram, Twitter & Reddit. Or join the free mailing list (top right) Please help us continue to bring the REAL NEWS - PayPal Read the full article

[books-on-the-brain]

So I used to read a whole bunch, but then I took a small break so that I could have an actual social life. Now I'm trying to get back into it but I've tried to... I just can't get into it. Do you have any suggestions of what I could do to get back into wanting to read more?

bI relate to this SO. MUCH. It’s always hard to find a good reading/life balance, since reading can often be a very isolating activity. It’s also really difficult around this time of year for younger readers, too, since a lot of us are getting back into the swing of it with school and such and find that we have much less time to be reading what we want. So without further ado…

How I cure “reader’s block”/being in a book rut!!!

1) First of all, there’s literally no shame in reading something because it’s short and you know you can get through it, or reading something you might consider a “beach read.” If it’s less daunting for you to pick up a 70-page romance novella than Tolstoy that is perfectly!!! okay!!! What matters is that you’re still reading and it’s making you happy, not that you have gained all the answers to the universe by reading a dry and endless classic.

2) Another good option is to reread something you know you really love/want to revisit. I find it’s typically easier to read something for the second or third time and if it’s been a while, then you’ll still be surprised by little things here and there and get the warm nostalgia fuzzies. For me, one of my old favorites to revisit is Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. I always read it at the beginning of the summer when I’m switching from all academic reading to personal reading (f i n a l l y) because I’m familiar enough with the story that it goes pretty quickly, but I still really love it.

3) In a similar vein, I find it really fun when I don’t want to sit down and read seriously to go back to some of my old favorites from childhood! For example, I loved the Deltora books by Emily Rodda when I was a kid and had some fun the other day going back through some of them and reminiscing. It has the potential to remind you of your love for stories and also in my case, it reminded my why I fell in love with fantasy at a young age and why I’m still so passionate about it! Reading children’s/middle grade/YA books is always acceptable and so much fun at any age.

4) This Barnes and Noble Reader article also suggests reading about books if you can’t actually read a book. As they explain it, find book blogs (like those on tumblr!) that speak to your interests and get you excited about picking up books. Other people’s enthusiasm goes a long way in encouraging you to also pick up a book to read!

5) If you can, find other avid readers and friends who you feel comfortable sitting in silence with! One of my favorite memories ever is sitting on my friend’s back porch and trading the books of the KARE First Love manga series back and forth. We played peaceful music in the background and so we were spending time as friends AND getting reading done. This lead us to discuss our favorite scenes and how we felt about certain translations (literally just because we like how to guy asked the main girl out in the online scantalation better than the printed book rip). But we ended up really getting into this series that in all honesty is kind of silly (despite the soft spot I have in my heart for it) and we joke about it all the time. Reading and socializing in one!

6) And speaking of manga…it’s always a great bridge for getting back into reading when it’s been a while, as are graphic novels! If you haven’t ever tried manga or graphic novels and don’t think it’s your rap at least give them a chance! I thought I hated them until I read Fullmetal Alchemist and fell in l o v e! You’re getting a story and doing some reading, but the pictures really help to ease you in so that you’re not necessarily devoting the same attention that you would be with a novel that’s just pages of text. As such, each volume is pretty quick depending on how long you linger on the drawings. If you already do love manga/graphic novels, then try picking up a new series you’ve been interesting in or rereading a series you already know you like!

Here are some graphic novel recommendations!

Nimona by Noelle Stevenson (a story that does a fun take on the idea of the “bad guy” - it actually gave me way more feels than expected, and I loved the art style)

The new Ms. Marvel series written by G. Willow Wilson and illustrated by Adrian Alphona (so do not confuse this with the old Ms. Marvel, this one is better in my opinion because our hero is your average teenage Muslim girl living in Jersey City and it’s refreshing, amazing, adds diversity to the typically white/male dominated world of superheroes, and I am unabashedly in love with one of the main characters, Bruno)

Umbrella Academy written by Gerard Way and illustrated by Gabriel Ba (this does another more twisted/dark take on the idea of the superhero story, if that’s something more up your alley. It’s the first book of a series I’ve really been loving lately, plus I trust Gerard Way’s taste in comics unequivocally and he wrote it so that’s a yes in my book!)

American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang (the intertwining stories of an American-Chinese boy trying to figure out his place in the world and the Monkey King of Chinese fable)

I did not include a special section for manga recommendations because most of what I read is probably not the sort of stuff to dive into after having reader’s block. Overall, the realm of shoujo might be a good place to look (things like Skip Beat!, Blue Spring Ride, Fruits Basket, and Kimi ni Todoke. Ouran High School Host Club and Dengeki Daisy were ones I really enjoyed too.)I also recently read Orange which is a fairly short series and easy to read - I loved it but major depression/suicide/mental illness tws there.In terms of shonen, Hunter x Hunter would be a good one because not only is it amazing, but it’s broken up into shorter yet very distinct story arcs which I feel would be easier if you’re trying to get back into reading. If someone has some more recs tho, please add!

7) Another variation of manga/graphic novels is online webtoons, which are basically digitized comics. I have recently discovered them and think they’re the best. things. ever. If you’re like me and you have a horrible habit of lying in bed scrolling absently through your phone before going to bed and after waking up, this might be good for you. I have slowly been replacing my mindless Facebook scrolling with scrolling through webtoons, which has been so amazing for my mental health! My favorite app is literally just called Webtoon or maybe Line Webtoon (the icon in the app store is a green speech bubble that says “Webtoon”).

For most webtoons, chapters are generally pretty short so it doesn’t take a lot of focus but once again, you’re still reading, and you’re still getting a good story, all while laying fetal position like you might while scrolling through Facebook or texting people before bed. Not to mention you’re supporting amazingly talented artists/individuals who are oftentimes not published and doing this for fun or with the hopes of eventually being published, so you can say you followed them from the start! Also since they update only a few times a week, it gives you something to look forward to on random days.

Here are my favorite story-oriented webtoons currently:

Assassin Roommate by Monica Gallagher. Super cute and quirky romance with a great female lead, also really great in terms of body diversity, and LITERALLY THE ONLY REASON I LOOK FORWARD TO TUESDAYS, THE DREADFUL DAY AFTER MONDAY

My Dear Cold-Blooded King by limelight. Just started this but it seems pretty cool??? The author has paired up with a musician so all the chapters have music which is lit af if I do say so myself

Silk and Briar by paragoing-paragon. I think this is on hiatus but it’s shaping up to be a brilliantly-constructed fantasy story with some crazy twists and turns

instantmiso’s stuff is also really popular (Where Tangents Meet and Siren’s Lament). It’s not as much up my alley as it is pretty fluffy romance and I’m not crazy about the writing, but she is an incredibly talented artist and has great music with her chapters. Her stuff is super good for an easy read without a ton of brain power/commitment, but I say that with immense respect for her talent and abilities! 

Cheese in the Trap by soonkki. This was also made into a K-Drama so I read the series and threw a little watch-party with some of my friends from my Korean class! Super good series and another great way to enjoy reading AND be social!

Here are the webtoons that are more “Sunday newspaper funnies”               style, where each chapter is a mini story:

Bluechair by Shen (this is WILDLY popular and I totally see why!!! These are hilarious and have cheered me up on many a rough night!!!)

Sapphie: The One-Eyed Cat by joho (feel-good, cute comic about cats that’s also pretty funny. I shamelessly read like a hundred chapters in one sitting.)

If none of this is appealing to you, there is always the audio option! If the actual act of your eyes scanning the page is difficult because you can’t focus on anything, there are a lot of options in this realm!

8) Local libraries usually have an audiobook section that is deeply neglected, but holds some secret treasures! Whenever I go on roadtrips, I always pick up two or three before I head out. They’re also perfect for when you do mindless tasks like sorting/folding laundry, walking a dog if you have one, waiting in long lines, or on your commute to and from school or work or any other similar activities. 

What’s cool is you can search for audiobooks based both on books you actually want to read, and whoever is narrating it. I know Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz had a super popular audiobook because Lin Manuel Miranda narrated it. If you want to pay, Audible is one of the most popular paid platforms for audiobooks. I haven’t personally used it, but it seems to be quite successful. One way or another, audiobooks are a good way to get back into reading without having to budget extra time to sit down with a book.

9) Podcasts can also help if you haven’t already explored those and are open to! Not all podcasts are TED talks, or political debates, or generally academic, or whatever they are stereotyped as. There are a ton that feel just like audiobooks, or at the very least like a play without any visuals. There’s a script and there’s a story and I know it’s helped me ease back into a mindset that preps me for reading because much like audiobooks you can listen to them all the time (I do so while cooking dinner and walking to classes) and it helps your mind switch from reality to the world of a story with relative ease if that makes sense. I’m pretty new to podcasts myself so don’t have a ton to recommend, but here’s what I’ve been enjoying….

Podcasts to look into:

Anything written by Mac Rogers. That includes The Message, Afterlife, and Steal the Stars. Personally, I like Steal the Stars and The Message more that Afterlife. They’re all sci-fi stories that are generally told from one perspective but you get to know amazing characters and I was not expecting the twists and turns. And Steal the Stars is still coming out so jump on the bandwagon now lol

The Adventure Zone from Justin, Travis and Griffin McElroy at My Brother, My Brother and Me (another podcast which I have not listened to). The Adventure Zone is actually them playing Dungeons and Dragons, but they’re funny as all get out (the last place I lived had a communal kitchen for dozens of people and I was always laughing like and idiot while listening to this and making dinner and I’m pretty sure everyone thought I was nuts). Eventually the Dungeon Master gets super into the story telling and they script some of it with cool music. It’s really amazing and has a nice balance between story/characters but also the element of “real people” as they’re a bunch of brothers and they’re dad all just having fun. It’s a good bridge to getting back into reading.

Welcome to Nightvale is always a classic. It’s a bit trippy for me but tons of people enjoy it. The same team also produced a podcast called Alice Isn’t Dead. I honestly know nothing about it but one of my friends always raves about it, so it has his vote!

10) And okay so here’s my last suggestion. It might feel like a bit of a cop-out because I guess it kind of is, but it often works for me. So here it is. Sometimes it just helps to sit down and remember why you like to read in the first place. The fact that you’re actively trying to get back into it isn’t meaningless. It’s a very willful decision. So what is driving you? Maybe it’s because…

reading is an escape or a way for you to cope with difficult things in your life. This can be anything from mental illness, to school/work stress, to relationship dissatisfaction, difficult family or economic situations. Maybe you just are bored of our planet earth. Sometimes you might just need to be transported into another world for whatever reason and that is totally okay.

or reading inspires you to live your best life. Maybe there’s some character in a book you love that you look up to and aspire to be. Remember that passion you had when you were first getting to know that character, and that sense of being understood or finding a role model. Maybe you want to go on an adventure as wild as that character went on and that’s your idea of living your best life. Whatever the reason is, this sort of inspiration is a powerful emotion that books make us feel and sometimes that’s also a good reason to reread a book that’s inspired you.

and I don’t know, maybe you’re a writer yourself and you draw inspiration from reading in that sense. The more you read, the more you learn about what sort of writing you like and don’t like, and you grow stronger in your craft. Good readers help make good writers (but also don’t take that to mean that if you happen to be a writer and you’ve been in a book rut for a long time that you own skills are waning. we all get in book ruts and that’s okay. maybe it’s time to seek out a new source of inspiration in a different genre or new writer)

or perhaps you simply love stories. Maybe you breathe stories like other people breathe air and you can’t imagine that side of you not existing. If you’re one of these people, that makes reader’s block twice as hard. But that doesn’t mean that if you’re not turning pages that you’re not absorbing stories. Take it slowly and ease back into it with things I already mentioned like podcasts and webtoons.

One way or another, you’ll find your way back. Maybe this post will spark something. Maybe it won’t, and it will take another few months for you to really feel gungho about reading again. That’s all okay. Take your time. Enjoy being with friends and other activities. Do what’s healthiest and what works best for you. And eventually you’ll get back to reading a ton. However it happens, I wish you the best of luck!

[dknc3]

Yeah, so I wanted to post about how awesome my preacher was this morning, and my feelings and opinions about this weekend and this country in general right now kind of overflowed . . . so I’ll put this rant under a cut.

This morning, my Baptist preacher, who has always steadfastly insisted that politics do not belong in the pulpit and has never allowed any sort of political rhetoric or "voter guides" in our church, stood in the pulpit facing his 95% white congregation, at least half of whom voted for Trump, and denounced Unite the Right and the abominable actions of the white supremacists in Virginia this weekend. 

 He said this is not about politics, it is not about free speech--it is about hatred, pure and simple. It's about racism and bigotry and the danger it presents to our nation. He went on to say that while ingrained prejudices in our nation are certainly multifaceted and have been around longer than we have been a nation, what took place this weekend is not "many sided." It was racism and hate espoused by people who feel emboldened by the election of our current president and are coming out of the shadows with new, pretty words and slicker marketing campaigns to spew the same old hatred.

He assured the congregation that he certainly doesn't believe that all or even most people who support Donald Trump espouse these views, but since a higher percentage of white evangelical Christians voted for Trump than pretty much any other demographic group, every person who claims to follow Christ should speak out now--demanding that the president unequivocally condemn these people, their actions, and all they stand for. We cannot be silent. Jesus loved people as they were and where they were. He does not value a specific skin color above another. He does not value any person above another. 

 This goes beyond political positions or party affiliations. Anyone who speaks of serving a loving God and does not call racism and hatred what it is and stand against it is not serving God or people. 

 There was mostly silence when he finished speaking, but also several rather loud "amens." Yes, I was one of them. As one of the singers for the service, I was standing at the front of the church just behind him when he gave this little talk and then led us in prayer, and I could barely sing the the next song because I was a bit choked up. 

 Unless you grew up in a Southern Baptist church in a red state, you probably can't appreciate how important this moment was to me. I have a tendency to question EVERYTHING. I always have. I also believe the incredible variety among people--races, sexual orientations, physical characteristics, talents, philosophies, etc.--is one of the most beautiful aspects of God's creation, and I get very irritated by the notion that "everybody is supposed to be just like us or they are wrong and unAmerican." These are character traits that have not endeared me to many folks at several churches I have attended. 

 I honestly understand how people get turned off by some Christians, sometimes turned completely off God altogether. I understand because there are times in my life it's happened to me. And I still cringe at many things said or done in the name of my God. I suspect it's the same for other religions as well, but since I'm a Christian, that's the religion I feel I am most entitled to criticize or praise. 

Today, my pastor spoke out publicly in the name of God against hatred. And I intend to do so as well--not just among my liberal leaning friends of a variety of faiths or no particular faith at all on Tumblr, but among the church-attending folks I see every day--folks who "Back the Blue" until a black Muslim cop shoots a white woman and then they go silent, who say they're not racist but black people get too many special privileges and it's not fair, who wax poetic about the sanctity of life and then celebrate when white cops escape punishment for taking a life, who think that requiring bakers to simply bake the cakes their customers order without regard to the customers' religious practices or sexual orientation is an infringement of freedom of religion, but denying immigration to people of Muslim countries isn't. 

Sometimes, it seems overwhelming. But, as my pastor said, I cannot be silent. 

In the name of God, I cannot be silent.

[copperrussell-blog]

A Helpful Interrogation -- [Copala feat Rajah]

In which Copper and Rajah conduct an interview with a very important person to the investigation.

@nala-calame

Further Reading: The Investigation Begins -- Copper and Taka Liars and Loopholes -- Taka and Rodmilla

[Dated June 28th]

COPPER: It had been a long three weeks since the investigation into InterPride had started. Rajah and himself were taking most of the interviews, at least here in Swynlake. The London department was handling the London office. Still, there was 194 employees top down, from the janitors to the board members, and all of them had to be interviewed.

They’d gotten through most of the bottom-feeders. Those were pretty in and out. It was only as they climbed the ladder that things were beginning to get tangled. Everyone seemed to have an opinion on Taka, many of them comparing him to his brother (and not particularly favorably in many cases). Some of them seemed frightened, but most of them just seemed--disheartened or unsurprised by the investigation.

Next on the list was Nala Calame, who had been talked about with much favor by her coworkers. Rajah and Copper both liked her too, but they also both knew that appearances could be deceiving and that they needed to set aside their personal feelings on the matter.

When she appeared in the doorway, Copper still smiled and gestured towards the chair that had been set out for her.

“Good morning, Miss Calame. We apologize for keeping you from work, hopefully this will not take long. Did you sign the nondisclosure agreement that the secretary had for you?”

The document had detailed that anything discussed here could not be discussed with anyone, especially those within the investigation. To do so could be considered an obstruction of justice and handled accordingly.

NALA AND RAJ: When Nala got the notice from the police that it was her turn to be questioned, she got the same feeling in her gut  she got whenever she was around Taka at all. It made her feel a little sick, a little on edge-- like something she couldn’t put her finger on. For years, she’d tried to ignore than feeling if only because Simba loved his uncle so much. He’s so weird, Nala used to say, wrinkling her nose up. Sometimes Simba acted offended and other times he just laughed it off like Nala was joking, like of course Taka was weird, but weird in a good, friendly way-- the way that clowns could be weird.

But Nala couldn’t get rid of that creepy feeling. Over the past year that she’d returned to Swynlake, the feelings had doubled-over with guilt because Taka had been nothing but kind to her. She’d been put in an excellent position in the company. She had time to do her passion project with the Lyons Foundation. He let her hire her own interns, let her work so many hours from home after she’d shattered her knee-- he’d been nothing but a kind and fair boss to her. 

Still the feeling persisted. It was wrong, Nala had been telling herself for months now. She tried to weed it out. But it crept back in always, the guilt screaming on its heel.

Now? Now--

Nala felt guilty for not listening to her gut. Now everything was suddenly suspicious to her: every smile Taka had given her, every project and favor and nicety. What if he’d been trying to hide something all along and she’d fallen for it? What if she had implicated herself in something and not realized it?

What if she was overreacting right now? 

All these thoughts boiled away inside her as she arrived at the police station, led back at once to a room. She smiled at Copper and Rajah as she entered, giving a polite nod and offering to shake their hands. 

“Yes, yes I did. Thank you,” she said to Copper. Then she sat down, crossing her legs at once, trying to get nestled in the chair. “I... I’ll do my best to answer any questions you have.

And Nala would-- she just didn’t know if she could.

COPPER: Copper chewed on his lip a little, glancing at Rajah as Nala settled into the chair. She was one of the first people from higher up that they were interviewing. Though, not the first person who had been around the Lyons family for so long. (In some cases, generations, even.) They hadn’t interviewed Sarabi or Simba, who besides Taka were the last remaining Lyons--at least as far as they had been able to uncover.

Nala was just about the closest thing, according to everyone else. And, she was so sweet, both Rajah and Copper thought so. The likelihood of her having anything to do with this was slim. It made him feel awful about it, it made him feel tired.

He took a few steps to the side, turning on the camera recorder in the corner.

“Thank you, that’s appreciated. And, this interview will be recorded for the records, and anything said on tape can be used in court. You may, however, ask us to stop at any time, though, you must know a note will be made that you said things off record.”  

Sighing, he walked back over towards the table and sat down in one of the chairs across from Nala, lacing his fingers together and placing them on the table top.

“Now, for the easy part, just the simple things, like how long you’ve been working for InterPride, what you do for them, your relationship to Taka Lyons, your relationship with the Lyons family. Anything that you think could be of importance and we will go from there.”

NALA: The easy part?

Nala didn’t find those questions so easy. It was funny-- if she and Copp had been out for coffee or tea and he’d asked her those things, Nala would tackle the question with a splitting smile, the words bubbling to her lips without pause. And it’s not like Nala didn’t want to talk about these things now; she simply didn’t know where to start. She wanted to be concise, clear, helpful, but she wasn’t certain that she should be telling Copper the same things she would tell a friend. Or perhaps that was exactly what she was supposed to do.

Nala just didn’t want to leave anything out. Justice, to Nala, was extremely important. It was perhaps one of the most important things in the world. Her stomach was already queasy with the thought she could have obstructed justice without meaning to.

But Nala just nodded, hiding her insecurity as best as she could. That was all she had to do: do her best.

“Well-- I’ve been working at InterPride as the Associate CFO for InterPride’s Corporate Social Responsibility branch for over a year now. I think it's been about...a year and five months,” she said. “I began in January 2016. My primary responsibilities are to oversee InterPride’s initiatives to give back to the community and support projects in line with InterPride’s mission and vision to provide safe workplaces for people regardless of their Magick or Mundus status. A lot of my job involves-- overseeing contracts for expansions, making sure they meet environmental regulations and don’t contribute to gentrification of at-risk communities, balancing our CSR budget and allocating funds...planning local fundraisers sometimes,” she added, thinking about last year’s fundraiser for fairy home preservation. Though she’d come in quite late on that one, mostly handling the execution, not the planning itself.

“InterPride also lobbies Parliament and sponsors bills that support pro-Magick efforts. Sometimes I help with those efforts but my counterpart in the London office typically does that,” said Nala. “I-- also, as my own personal side project have been preparing to start the Lyons Foundation with Sarabi Lyons.”

She wracked her brain but that pretty much covered the first part of his question. Nala took another breath.

“As for my relationship with the family and with Taka...well...they raised me,” said Nala, smiling a little more. “My father was a biology teacher before he came to work at InterPride himself, in the environmental regulations department. I grew up with the Lyons. My mother and Sarabi are best friends,” explained Nala. “I...went to school with Simba, I went to university with him-- we-- we were supposed to get married actually,” she snorted. She wouldn’t have mentioned it but she was scared of including too little. “It was a sort of outdated custom, my father is a very traditional Muslim man but-- he understood when we both mutually decided to break the engagement. Um, following...Mufasa’s death, I… I went back to London and was working at a nonprofit devoted to creating new technologies to ensure clean water in developing countries...but I came back when Taka offered me this job.”

She adjusted in her chair.

“I-- didn’t know why he did but he told me he was worried about Simba and so he was moving the offices back to Swynlake to be closer to him. Simba has had a lot of trouble dealing with his father’s death so…of course I wanted to help and be there for him. Taka gave me this really amazing job, just a few years out of uni, and he’s supported the projects I’ve wanted to take on and gave me an intern. I’ve been rather happy, professionally speaking,” said Nala. And now she hesitated again.

It was that strange cognitive dissonance between her head and her heart. Her head told her that she owed Taka for everything he’d done for herself, Simba-- even Sarabi to some extent, taking over InterPride in the first place. But her heart had never liked him. Her heart found him a bit creepy, whereas Simba just found him “weird” in a “haha” way.

“Of all the Lyons though-- Taka and I have never been close,” she started slower. “I...didn’t like that...he sort of came between Simba and Mufasa’s relationship in uni and a bit in college too. Simba would always run off to his apartment,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I dunno if-- that’s probably irrelevant. And I am grateful for everything he’s done for me. I’m glad that I get to work at InterPride again and live here in Swynlake and be here for the Lyons. I owe them so much.”

COPPER: All the information about her job at InterPride matched up with the information that they had on file, which Copper flicked idly through as he listened to her spiel. All the dates matched, all the titles, and responsibilities. They didn’t care about that. They didn’t think that there would be anything wrong with it, anything suspicious.

What they wanted was information on Taka, not Mr. Lyons, CEO of InterPride. So far, they hadn’t interviewed anyone who knew Taka on any sort of personal level. He didn’t go out and get drinks with his employees. He very rarely visited their offices. They saw him in meetings and occasionally stalking the halls, but to many, he was a mysterious overseer. A stark contrast to Mufasa, most reported, who had treated his employees like family. That was what they were interested in. Knowing who Taka was, building a more personal profile of the man—it would help their case.

The whole thing about the marriage was definitely…interesting, but Copper dismissed its importance, what would it have to do with Taka, anyways?

It only got interesting after Mufasa’s death, the way Nala told it. Copper sat up a little straighter, as his gut simultaneously dropped downwards.

Copper had several follow up questions, they jumped easily to his lips. Perhaps it was because he was already suspicious of Taka, maybe that was why the threads were easier to draw between Nala’s words. They all led back to one thing: Mufasa. It wouldn’t be that shocking of a story, had to be, actually, one of the oldest of mankind: brother kills brother for his power. The Fey’s Gold—now, that was the piece that wasn’t clicking. Which was frustrating, because that’s what they had evidence on. Mufasa’s death? For all intents and purposes, it really did look like an accident, and any evidence would’ve been washed away long, long ago.

“Thank you, Nala. Just a few follow up questions to that, if you will. Firstly, you said Simba has been having a lot of trouble with Mufasa’s death? Would you say it is—more than a normal level of grief? And, do you know what might be causing it, if it is? Don’t worry, he’s not going to get in trouble. We’re just trying to get a full picture.”

Copper shifted a little in his seat. It was funny, because the thing that Nala said was probably irrelevant had sparked Copper’s interest the most.

“As for Simba’s relationship with Taka, would you care to elaborate a little more on that? In your opinion, how did Taka come between Mufasa and Simba? Did Simba not have a good relationship with Mufasa? Did Taka not have a good relationship with Mufasa?”

NALA: Nala didn’t expect these follow-up questions.

Her eyebrows shot up, then furrowed just as quickly as they came. Questions about Simba-- which made her heart turn to steel in her chest, even though the guilt was cold as ice in the rest of her veins. Questions about Mufasa’s death, about Simba’s relationship to Taka, about his relationship to Mufasa-- about Taka and Mufasa. Nala doubted any of this was relevant to the investigation. How could it be? It was all old news by now, years and years old. It wore heavy on her heart to think about and she didn’t want to go trudging toward that old pain; unearthing it would make it burn.

But then again, what did Nala really know about what this investigation was and why it was coming to light now? She didn’t know. And so now she worried-- worried for Simba, who was finally finding some peace after all these years, and Sarabi too. Her desire for justice butted heads with her desire to protect these people, who were the dearest to her heart.

“That’s all a bit-- complicated,” she said after a half-second, and this wasn’t a lie. It was complicated. Nala hadn’t thought about the whole mess that was Simba-and-Mufasa-and-the-future-of-InterPride for a long time, but it’d been a heartache then too. “Simba loved his father more than-- more than anything. He wanted to please Mufasa and make him proud but his father didn’t always… listen, I suppose, the way that Simba wanted him to.”

Nala herself had never really understood Simba’s feelings there. She thought it was an honor to serve InterPride. And because she didn’t understand…

“...and I suppose Taka did listen, more than...more than Mufasa sometimes. Simba’s always been very fond of his uncle too so whenever he got upset or didn’t like what Mufasa told him, he just-- called up Taka or ran away to Taka’s apartment. I can’t, erm, tell you a lot about Taka and Mufasa really. I only know what I heard from Simba and my own dad, who--well, Taka became COO and lots of people in the London offices thought it was a bit undeserved. Nepotism and all. But Mufasa always saw the best in people.” She nodded, her heart panging, as she remembered-- seeing Mufasa’s smile clearly in her head.

She missed that smile and the way she felt--strong and self-assured-- when he turned it her way.

“As for… Mufasa’s death and Simba’s… grief, I mean, he was...he was there,” she said much softer. She looked down at the table for a brief second before she met Copp’s eyes again. “During the car crash. He was in the car. I think it’s been harder for him… because of that and surviving when his father didn’t.”

COPPER: This wasn’t surprising either, not really. At least, not the part about a kid under pressure butting heads with his father. That was--normal.

What intrigued him was the accident and Taka’s relationship with Simba. Obviously it wasn’t something that Simba discussed with Nala, which meant something. And they wouldn’t get the full story until they sat down with the prodigal son, himself. He had this feeling in his gut that Nala didn’t know anything, at least, nothing as to what Taka had been up to. She could just be a good actress, but he’d been taught how to look for a liar, and Nala did not seem like a liar to him. Which meant, outside of speculation, she wasn’t really any use to them.

It kept coming back to the accident, Taka assuming the role of CEO. Had second in command not been enough for him? Had Simba somehow been involved? (That thought was very brief, and unlikely, considering Simba appeared to have no interest in running InterPride, though he was still benefiting off its profit.)

Copper nodded his head at her, rubbing a hand over his beard. He was weighing his options now. Leave things as they are, or press a little further, try to dig into Taka’s mysterious past (of which there was very little papertrail outside of his school reports--all which were rather excellent academically.) But, if he dug further, he ran the risk of Nala putting pieces together that they didn’t want people putting together yet. Namely, that this was more than just a simple embezzlement case. But--maybe she could give them information without knowing that was what she was doing.

“Do you think it was deserved, then? Taka becoming COO? Taking over as CEO?” he prodded, trying to find the edge of her loyalty. “I know you said he’s given you free rein over your--Lyons Foundation project. Has he allotted similar freedoms to other branches of the business?  You’re Associate CFO, so, in your opinion are funds being allocated in the company’s best interest?”

NALA: She raised her eyebrows at Copper. She was beginning to wonder what he was really after.

She supposed it didn’t matter. Nala was not a liar, as best as she could be, that is. She did lie sometimes, but this was all anonymous and honestly...she didn’t feel a loyalty to Taka the way she felt to Simba and Sarabi and Mufasa. She should. She knew she should. But everytime she saw Taka in that chair at the long conference table, looking over the rest of them, king of the proverbial jungle, she thought to herself-- It should be Simba.

“Honestly-- no, I don’t think it’s deserved. Taka was more or less estranged from the Lyons for a period. His parents and him, I knew they had a difficult relationship-- it was only Mufasa who wanted Taka involved. But-- like I said, I think Mufasa saw the best in people. And if he trusted Taka, then-- well, he was right for the job,” said Nala though her gut told her otherwise. “And CEO, I mean, Simba was in no state, so it was either the board nominated someone who wasn’t a Lyons or promoted from within or Taka, as the last eligible Lyons, took over. It wasn’t an ideal situation.”

In fact, as she said it, it felt too convenient. But maybe that was just Copper, planting seeds of doubt in her head. (But no, no-- something about it wasn’t right. Nala felt a little sick.)

“Erm, as for my job well-- I, I proposed the Lyons Foundation with Sarabi Lyons. I’m not sure other employees have taken that initiative. My other projects have all been in the work for years and years though-- developing communities takes a long time-- really, I...I think all my projects come from Mufasa’s years…”

And she trailed off.

Because even she thought that was suspicious now.

She looked directly at Copper, knowing that he could feel the shift in her mood too. She didn’t bother to hide it. So Nala sat up straighter. “Yes, Taka has not afforded me any new projects since I started.”

“No new projects?” echoed Sheriff Patel. “Do you know if your London counterpart is handing that?”

Nala shook her head “Not from what I’m aware of. Like I said, she’s basically a lobbyist. Her duties are a lot different than mine.”

COPPER: It wasn’t an ideal situation.

Except it was, for one person.

Copper looked at Rajah when he spoke and he was glad to know that his partner was on the same page as himself. That this was highly suspect. If it was Copper’s place to say (and it could be, if he wanted it to be), he’d ask if Nala found any of this suspicious, but he had a feeling she was already on her way there, and at the moment, he didn’t want to encourage anymore putting it together on her own.

He had a feeling she was the type to take justice into her own hands. Maybe that was because the first time he’d met her, her best friend (whom this investigation involved) had tried to beat a man senseless. Albeit the bastard had deserved it, but, birds of a feather. Which meant Nala could get herself into trouble if she started poking around. Copper felt the urge to curb any sort of suspicion for the moment.

And, he was going with his gut on this one: Nala didn’t know anything. She’d basically confirmed what they already knew: that Taka was not well-loved among the InterPride Incorporation, that he was estranged for most of his adult life from his family, and most importantly; that the funds were not being allocated properly. But, she wasn’t involved in crunching the numbers. They would know more when they got the analysis back from the financiers they’d sent the last five years’ worth of profit to.

“I know this seems abrupt, but I think that is all we need from you at this time. Thank you, Nala. Your testimony has been helpful and we will probably be getting in touch with you in the future to discuss a few of the things we went over today in more detail. I’d like to remind you that what transpired today cannot be discussed with anyone, InterPride employee or otherwise. Now, if you have any questions, feel free.”

He gestured invitingly, leaning back in his seat a little. 

NALA: And just like that, it was over just as it started.

That’s how it felt to Nala, who briefly frowned. She had just felt like she was beginning to understand the point of all this. Copper’s questions had nudged at doors that had remained closed for years now and Nala wanted to push. She wanted to be on the other side of the table, if she were even more honest. Because what else had they found out? What picture were they putting together with all their pieces? 

Part of Nala wanted to open her mouth and tell Copp everything-everything-- all about Simba’s accident in detail, at least, what she knew. That wasn’t it really strange that Mufasa, even slightly drunk himself, would get in a car with a wasted Simba? Wasn’t it strange that Simba would insist on driving in the first place? That Nala hadn’t even seen Simba after he’d been taken aside...by Taka. He’d disappeared after that. 

And then, when he did turn up, Mufasa was dead, his arm was broken, and everything had changed. 

The only problem was, if Nala did open her big mouth about all this, what if Simba got in more trouble? She couldn’t get Simba in trouble. He didn’t deserve it (even if he thought he did) and Kiara didn’t deserve it. Berlioz didn’t deserve it. So Nala kept her mouth shut about these details, knowing deep down that they were her puzzle pieces only. 

She just needed to figure out how to fill in the rest of the gaps.

So Nala just shook her head and smiled small at Copper and Rajah. “No, nothing springs to mind right now. But-- I’ll let you know if it does or if I think of anything,” she said. Or if I discover something else. 

Nala stood up then, still smiling politely. “Thanks so much Sheriff Russell, Deputy Patel.”

[ttransthirteen]

okay here we go! for sol: 8, 35, 19; for hernandez: 45, 5, 13; for jericho: 3,17, 24; for nikola: 40, 43, 50; for nix, 9, 22, 29, for scott: 3, 36, 27; for hero: 34, 18, 6; for lynx: 10, 26, 44!! sorry if that's too many!!

anon i have no idea how you know all these characters enough to send me specific ones for their names, but i want you to know this is the best thing that has happened to me in weeks and you are the absolute light of my life. if you believe in a higher power i wish you blessings and happiness for years to come. 

here we go!! (also this is so long im sorry, I tried to sort them if anybody is actually curious about any of them)

Sol- 

8. did they have pets as a child? as an adult? do they like animals?

Dani Solis, or just Sol to her coworkers, is a mechanic who never quite understood living things. she grew up in outer space and never really had the opportunity to have a pet, although the constant traveling meant she got to see a ridiculous variety of life. When she was a little girl, she would sometimes find a cockroach or other bug on the ship and catch it, keeping it and feeding it until it died. it was never a very satisfying experience, probably adding to her obsession with immortal machines. 

35. whats their guilty pleasure? what is their totally unguilty pleasure?

I’d call Eric her guilty pleasure. they would have ended up together if I hadn’t killed him off mid-breakdown. Most people live on a planet, but she doesn’t have one, so to her any sort of truly meaningful human connection is dangerous and off-limits. but she loves him deeply, although it scares her. Unguilty, I’d say shes kind of a hoarder. her bunk is full of knick-knacks from every corner of the explored universe. she spends pretty much her entire salary on it tbh

19. whats their least favorite genres? 

if this is about literature, she thinks fantasy is stupid. if it’s music, she loves rap and techno but has never really been able to tolerate slow guitar pieces about how beautiful planet life is. think space-age country. 

Hernandez-

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

this is a big one for him. Captain Eric Hernandez is a trans man, so for a lot of his life yeah there was a massive difference. but after he transitioned, I would say the main difference would be that the people around him see him as cold, kind of scary. he’s not scary, he’s scared. he sees himself as small and weak, even after he straight up murdered his abuser and took his place as captain. His friends would say he is the strongest, bravest man they’ve ever known. They would be right.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

He has two sisters and two brothers, I don’t know any of their names. He was very close with all of them and misses them every day. Since he ran away to avoid having to pretend to be a woman his whole life, and then murdered a guy, contacting any of them would have been massively dangerous. He couldn’t even tell any of them he was leaving because he wasn’t out to them. In the version of his story where he’s executed, they all get letters from Sol explaining everything. In the version where he lives, he sends the letters himself.

13. What is their least favorite food?

fish was never available to him as a kid, and he never acquired the taste. 

Jericho-

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? 

this isnt something i get to say about my ocs a lot, but he did. he had a lovely childhood. he grew up with a loving father in a huge, beautiful city where he was free to explore and learn to his hearts content. he has especially fond memories of wandering around the actual ground of the city where basically nobody ever goes, looking at bugs and mold and plants with his little junior scientist magnifying glass, looking them up on his computer-band. the worst ones were probably nights where his dad had to work and he was lonely in their apartment, bc those were the nights he wondered about his mom. 

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

He’ll take photographs of cool specimen, but mostly he carries a journal and prefers to take notes. he takes notes on absolutely everything and has boxes and boxes of old notebooks in his closet at home. 

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

my boy jericho has very little trouble sleeping and is fine with the govt issues firm mattress. he is quiet and still and sleeps deeply. 

Ok! switching universes! these characters are completely disconnected from those three.

Nikola Tchaikova- 

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

I’m not sure she’s ever even tried it. Nikola is a full blown alcoholic and anything that makes her feel more alert is probably not something she’s gonna enjoy. Her natural senses and awareness are absolutely through the roof, so it’s not something she really needs at all. She does like sweets though. Back when she had her family, her and her close companions use to sneak away sometimes and go out to the city for milkshakes and music, and those are probably her fondest memories. 

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

When she was a very young girl she might have worshipped the christian/jewish/muslim god, or at least attempted to. For a young shifter where she grew up, life was rough, and she would have had a hard time finding the meaning in it all. but later in life, after the war, the major religion worshipped shifters and obviously that was ridiculous to her, so she kind of looks down on the whole thing. She might still be a little envious of the purpose and comfort that the worshippers get and that is missing so much from her life, but one of the main gods in their pantheon is based on her kid brother’s best friend. its hard to take that seriously. (the idea is that there were 5 original all powerful shifters who made the real world ones. this is wrong. shifters were a science experiment gotten out of control, and Nikola knows that.)

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

She would pack her knife, which her long dead brother gave her about 1500 years ago. she would take the pendant she wears, which was symbolic of the leadership position she used to hold before the people she was leading were all killed. She has a photo collection that she says never looks at out of fear of the light ruining them. Her best friend made her some copies, but she doesn’t look at those either. I think it hurts her to see the faces of the people she misses. She has a small bag of things tucked into the back of her closet that she never, ever touches or looks at. After the massacre that took her family, Angelo (the only survivor, her best friend) went through the carnage and collected the possessions of their friends. Nikola helped him bury them, but she couldn’t stand to take their things. he gave them to her afterwards, and she’s only every managed to take them out and look at them when she’s so drunk she knows she won’t remember the next day. But she would never leave them behind.

Nix- 

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?

Domenico “Nix” Tchaikova is Nikola’s son, so half-shifter. Shifters are, by necessity, a bit closer to nature than the rest of us, and even though he has almost no actual form changing abilities animals have always seemed to like him a bit more than his friends. He’s always assumed that it’s because of his prosthetic leg, that they realize he couldn’t chase them if he wanted to, but animals know things, and they can sense that he’s not quite the same as the other humans. 

22. What are their favorite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

Nix would never insult someone behind their back- he has a temper, and if you piss him off he’s gonna confront you on the spot. His insults tend not to be physical. he might call you ugly if hes real mad, but hes much more likely to call you a coward or an idiot. He gets hit a lot for this. 

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? 

No, he’d never tease someone for being genuinely afraid. He knows fear too well to try and use it against people. If somebody he cared about was afraid of something, he would plant his tiny self between them and whatever it was no matter what. hes used to being seen as small and weak and incapable, and its resulted in a stupidly brave boy who gets himself into trouble a lot because he doesnt know when to back down.

Scott-

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? 

My boy!!! This is another one of Nikola’s children, one of the triplets. if you just read her thing, you can probably guess that she wouldn’t be a very good mother. Angelo, his father, was always loving and supportive, but both of his parents were just sad people who weren’t really prepared to raise three children. They grew up in the century before the war broke out, in a political climate that feared and hated them, among countless news stories of people like them being murdered and hunted. but Nikola still managed to give them a reasonably normal childhood. She found a place to settle down, near enough to a city that they could socialize and explore but far enough away they they grew up in the woods and could explore their natural abilities without being hunted down by hate groups. 

He has a lot of good memories! pretty much all of them are him doing dumb shit with his siblings. they used to use their shifting to break into concerts or fly up to the roofs of tall buildings. 

As for bad ones. definitely most of his bad memories are on Nikola’s head. He was the shifter equivalent of about eight years old when he saw her kill somebody for the first time. she didn’t know he was there, but im not sure if knowing would have changed anything. she’s been on a very long, very complicated vengeance quest since before he was born. She had tracked somebody down, and he watched while she slowly cornered him. You could practically smell the terror coming off the man as she drew her blade, moving towards him as she spoke. He had never heard her talk about the deaths of her family before, and as she told her prey all about how she had come home to find her kid brother on the floor with his throat slit open, there was something in her voice that he would never forget for the rest of his life. then he watched his mother put a knife through the bottom of the man’s jaw into his brain. he saw the light go out of his eyes, and he saw the absolute emptiness in his mother’s when she turned around. He ran as fast as he could back to his siblings and cried, but never told them what he saw. 

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

He can sing!!! he has a voice like an angel and he loves to use it. he plays about twenty instruments- hes had a long time to learn- and he always carries at least one on him. he can use weaponry and is good at it, but doesnt enjoy it. 

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

He doesn’t cry often. He doesn’t care if his siblings see him cry- theyre all so close its like crying in private- but with other people he doesnt like it. He just gets quiet when he’s sad. He’s not the moodiest of his siblings(that title goes to Lynx) but they all inherited something from their parents that makes them quiet, serious people on the whole. He feels deeply and thinks about things. Hes bisexual. I know that doesn’t go here but its important. He cried after he slept with a man for the first time, not because he was upset with himself about the gay thing but because he’d let himself fall for a human. The boy’s name was Jacob, and he didn’t understand but tried to comfort him anyways because he cared about Scott. They dated for a while, but Scott couldn’t handle knowing he would age and die so quickly and broke it off. Jacob was 43 when he was killed in a bombing during the war. Funerals had stopped happening at that time, people unable to keep up with all the dead. But there were still graves, and Scott visited Jacob’s for years afterwards. 

Hero-

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

She looks a lot like her mom. about 5′7, muscular, strong features. She got her dads eyes though, the only one of her siblings to have them. Scott and Lynx and Nix all have Nikki’s distinctive golden-ringed brown. She likes her body fine, its a good and strong body. she likes that shes not the shortest of her siblings(lynx is tied and nix is smaller) but other than that she doesnt really care. 

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

She was never much of a reader, and the only tv she ever got to see was when there was one on in a restaurant. She did enjoy films though, and her favorites were action. She got a certain something from Nikola that neither Scott or Lynx has, something kind of cold and fierce. Whatever it was that Scott saw in his mom’s eyes when she killed that man, exists in Hero too. Nix too, but less so. She would have liked video games a lot if she’d ever had the chance to really get into them.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

She never went to school. Her father taught her to read and write, as well as everything he thought she needed to know about the world. She spent her childhood wandering with her siblings, and most things she needed to know she got from that. All three of them had been planning on going to college, but the war came before they got the chance. But I think if she’d gotten the chance she would have had an interest in something technical. Engineering or architecture maybe. 

Lynx-

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

God I love Lynx. He would never, ever become a parent, but I think he would be a good one. Out of all of her children, Lynx inherited the most of Nikola’s sadness. In non dramatic terms she gave him her tendencies towards mental illness and its something hes struggled with his whole life. His siblings are a wonderful support system but he knows that any child of his would struggle like he has, and he has so many unhappy memories of Nikola’s misery that he would be too afraid. But children do like him, and he likes them. He’s a fun, playful person when he’s feeling good, and is absolutely delighted to discover he has a little brother. obviously hes got the same terror of losing him, but he has pushed those feelings tf down. he just wants to enjoy their relationship while he can. hes a wonderful, sweet, caring boy whos full of love and good times, but too scared of himself to ever be a parent.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? 

When he’s happy, everybody knows it. He is an absolute delight. he does dance, actually. when hes happy he does it more but also its just a thing hes good at and loves to do. humans who see it know theres something not quite natural about the way he moves, and hes beautiful to watch when hes using it to express joy. He has bright eyes and a smile that makes you feel like you are safe and loved and that everything in the entire world is gonna be ok. 

44. What is their favorite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? 

He loves any time of the year where it’s warm enough to wear skirts and loose, light shirts. The wintertime makes his depression worse, and a lot of years he and his siblings will head south to avoid it. but he loves warm breezes and cool nights by a fire, loves seeing the flowers in the spring and all the new baby animals. he isn’t at all a complainer, but when the weather is affecting him badly it’s easy to tell. he gets quiet, which is not something he is a lot. 

[msilwrites]

CATFISH, CHAPTER 1 - Profile

A/N: Here is the first chapter. I know this topic is hard as the heroine of the story isn’t a perfect person and is full of flaws. Again, no one is perfect. This might be a little bit of a hard read due to the topic. Charlie’s character will come later, in the meantime, enjoy Henry.

SYNOPSYS

Well, often for the same reasons people lie, cheat, or steal in general, but Catfish are a special breed.

The first thing you need to know about Catfish is that they aren’t all alike.  They are as diverse as those they deceive and victimise. Some are Catfishing for pleasure. Other get caught up in it and then feel they’re in too deep to come clean. Some are con artists and scammers who want money or to play a trick.

Elsie is a woman who CATFISHES due to insecurities and wants to disassociate from her own life. And is in search of ‘connection’. She didn’t intend to hurt and deceive anyone.  Yet this type of catfishing often feels as if DECEIT is the only way she can connect with another on a deep level.  She just didn’t expect that she’d make a strong connection with a  PSYCHOPATH.

Unable to continue with her lies, Elsie breaks up with the man online and cuts every communication with him. Only to later realise that she had messed with the WRONG man.

Cast:

OFC - Elsie Aaf

Lyle - Domhall Gleeson

Howard - Henry Cavill

                                                           ONE                                                           Profile

Elsie dreaded work, everyone does. However, she feels sort of calm about work these days. She knew it’s awful at times, but somehow that knowledge allows her to shut off the part of her that would otherwise find it intolerable. 

As usual, she got into her cubicle and sat down in front of her desk and began work. Typing away and inputting countless of data on her computer. She heaves a sigh, shuts her eyes tight to rest her eyes from staring at the monitor. Afterwards, she flexes her fingers and stretches her back. Another sigh comes out at she stares back at the screen, making sense of the numbers in the little graphic boxes. It was a simple task, yet a tedious one. She slept well the night before but suddenly found no energy to continue her task.

In walked Lyle. Lyle was one of the guys in the office who always seem to have time to do things other than work. Despite hating to admit it, she does put her work aside at times, but she doesn’t make it so obvious like he does. “Hello, Elsie…” Lyle greets her, as he leant against the wall of her cubicle.

“It’s not even lunchtime yet…” was her response. Usually, she’d join Lyle and his group for lunch. She didn’t like ‘like’ them, but she didn’t hate them either. Besides, It was better to go in a group than alone. After all, who’d help her reserve and guard a sit in a crowded food court or cafe during lunch time?

“I know, but I’m here to ask you if you’re free this weekend?” 

She paused for a while and raised a brow. What is it to him anyways? “Yes, I am free…” she answers passively and turns back to her monitor. 

“Good! I have an extra ticket for a speed dating event. A friend backed out, so I was thinking of asking you to take her place. Anyways, there will be free food, a buffet to be exact, and of course, drinks!” he babbles, whilst placing down a small ticket on her table. “This is your pass, don’t lose it…” he adds, noting on how expensive the ticket was, which is why he couldn’t let it go to waste. 

“Huh?” she examines the ticket and reads the details written on it.  The event will be held in a ‘posh-enough-hotel’ and there will be a buffet and free flow of drinks. It sounded tempting, especially for someone like her who spends her weekends alone at home. She had wanted to head out but didn’t have any ‘friends’ she’d go out with, nor was there anything that she had found interesting to do. 

Speed dating sounded interesting enough. However, she was socially awkward and didn’t know how to behave in such places. Besides, she didn’t need a partner, did she? she took great pride in managing her life alone. She didn’t have any big hole in her life, no missing part of her own particular puzzle. That’s what she has told herself, at any rate. Despite that, the buffet part sounded tempting, the thought of eating expensive food made her mouth water, so she said “Okay!”.

“Great!” he said gladly. “Oh yes… one more thing, wear smart casual! Also, while you’re at it, can you create your dating profile at this two sites?” he said while showing a dating app on his phone. She suddenly found herself regretting on saying ‘Yes’.

                                                         ********** 

Elsie sighed as she looked at the website she had signed into. There were a number of questions she needed to fill in before her profile can be displayed. The first one, called ‘Tinder’ was easier than this website. And if it couldn’t get any worst. She had to put up another profile picture in. Lyle claims that it was absolutely necessary that she join the site, as most of the speed daters were actually members. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted saying ‘yes’. 

“Hmmm let’s see…” she browsed through the questions one by one, thinking on which one she could easily answer first.

“Name huh?” she thought for a while, whether to put her real name ‘Elspeth bint Aaf’ she was afraid that no one would click her profile, knowing that she may be racially profiled. Born to a British mother and a Turkish/British father earned her that name format. But she looked ‘English’ enough for them not to ask about her background. Adding to that carrying the patronymic ‘bint’ doesn’t mean one is Muslim. But some people like to think so otherwise.

 Also, despite being new to this whole dating thing, Elsie knew that most men are shallow ‘creatures’ who only respond to ‘beauty’. She knew she shouldn’t be worried about it because she was only in it for the ‘buffet’ this coming weekend. But the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she did somehow want a ‘man’ in her life.

“Elsie Aaf it is!” she said, as she keyed in her name on the empty tab. Some people thought ‘Aaf’ sounded ‘French’. When it actually is her father’s name. She would always laugh with that assumption and never bothered correcting them. After all, it’s better that they think that way, instead of being singled out because she was different. It happened before when she made it known, she didn’t want it to happen again, so she stuck with the name ‘Elsie Aaf’.

“Hmmm… what else?” she continued to look through the page. There were a number of multiple choices set of questions she had to get through, such as  ‘Are you ready to settle down right now?’ or ‘Choose the better romantic activity?’. The choices made her cringed, but she answered it anyway.

When she finally finished answering the question, the website prompted her to upload a profile picture. 

Her brows furrowed with the last requirement. Uploading a profile picture meant she needed to upload her best looking one. The thing is, she was not someone who liked taking selfies of herself, as she was terrible at it. Besides that, she was hoping that a man would actually click on her profile because of the substance in her statement, and not because of how ‘attractive’ she looked.

With a sigh, she headed for her vanity drawer and dug into her large stash of cosmetics. Though she only wore foundation and blush on to work, she wears a full makeup look on weekends and watches tutorials online to hone her skills, which explains her large stash.

Despite her low opinion of herself about being not ‘pretty’. She still thinks that she deserves to pamper herself once in awhile, which includes buying makeup. It does not make her feel ‘guilty’, for spending her money on something so ‘frivolous’ as cosmetics, because she wanted to look ‘pretty’. After all, in her own opinion, ‘plain’ or ‘unattractive’ women like her still have every right to spend their money on anything they like. 

She began her makeup application as soon as she gathered the necessary makeup for the look she was creating.  There she was: Elsie Aaf. Short, fluffy dark hair, olive skin tone, a scar underneath her earlobe that she always tried to hide, and thick, dark eyebrows that gave her face ‘character. A strong nose, eyes that are ‘too’ big for her standards. Ears: Unexceptional. Small height, approximately average weight. She aspired to be average… She’d had been the focus of far too much negative attention in the past. But now, she felt that she wanted to be more than just ‘average’. Wondering how it would feel like to be considered ‘beautiful’.

She opted for a simple look, just enhancing her eyes and lips, giving it a plump look. Without bothering to groom her hair, she took out her phone and with a click, the camera took her picture. 

“Not bad…” she said, satisfied with the picture she had just taken, and somehow found herself ‘pretty’. She swiped through the filters available and chose the ‘black and white’ one, which gave her photo a ‘mysterious vibe’.

Finally done with the task of taking her photo, she uploads it into the computer and then the website. 

Elsie Aaf

- A person who smiles in the face of adversity… probably has a scapegoat.

About me:

I use my nervous system to perceive internal and external stimuli, concurrently processing them using existing and novel frameworks.

What am I doing with my life?

See Above.

I’m really good at

-  Making paper cranes that flap their wings, especially out of paper money. It’s an art. Folding tiny cranes out of nicotine gum wrappers.

-  I’m really good at Winning arguments against myself in my head.

-  I can make a mean complex polymeter.

-  I also have a talent for cooking developed to support my eating habit.

Things I can’t live without

-Wikipedia- I swear this helped write so many papers and along with google saved me a ton.

- Hummus

-  Pajama pants: To be worn immediately upon arriving home

- Showers: Like time, they heal all wounds.

-  Chipotle barbacoa, because if you don’t barbacoa, you’re doing it wrong.

-  Reusable shopping bags, because these damn groceries charge 85 pence for a paper one. And I’m not about to give them that satisfaction.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

- Why is pizza a circle but the box a square and slices are triangles and my soul a bottomless pit of pain and despair?

-  Why there isn’t a ‘goodminton’ ?

-  Why do our noses run but our feet smell?

-  Whether or not it’s Maybelline

-  Casual Misanthropy

-One of my coworkers stole a bag of gummy bears off of my desk. The next day said coworker told me about it. Said “sorry kiddo,” I said “no, no it’s fine”.I’ve been obsessing over my revenge for very long time now.

On a typical Friday night, I am

-Probably doing my laundry on Friday night. No shame. Gotta be done sometime! Hey, at least my clothes are clean! 

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

On the outside, I may appear like an emotionless sarcastic piece of shit, but just like an onion when you peel off more layers, you find the exact same thing every single time and you start crying.

She leans back against her seat and sighs in relief, glad to have finally completed the tedious task of filling up the blanks. Admiring the completed profile, she clicks the ‘save’ button and waited what will happen next. What followed after to her surprise was receiving a number of likes and messages in her inbox.

She excitedly clicks on the first message inside her inbox and checks the sender’s photo. Her eyes widened in disbelief on how gorgeous the man was. She felt a little sceptical for a while, thinking that it wasn’t possible to get the attention of such a handsome man. But in the end, she finally convinced herself that surely, her photo and witty one liner deserve the attention from such a man.

Howard: “Hello there, gorgeous! You’re hilarious!”

A/N: I'll be doing some soft editing, as I may have made some grammatical errors.