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anonymousewrites · 2 years ago

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Logos and Pathos (Book 1) Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: Above the Asylum

Captain’s Log: Exchanged cargo with penal colony on Tantalus V. Have departed without going ashore.

“I would like to have met Dr. Adams,” said Kirk ruefully. “Have you ever been to a penal colony since they started following his theories?”

“A cage is a cage, Jim,” said Bones.

“I find his theories awfully presumptuous,” said (Y/N). “They rely too heavily on the old Freudian theories from Earth, many of which have been disproven. He believes unconscious factors are the only thing affecting criminals and that rewriting those brain patterns alone will solve everything.” They frowned. “I worry he may begin to prescribe drugs for that, which could become a problem.”

Kirk shook his head. “You’re behind the times, (L/N). The penal colonies are like resorts now.”

“They should be focused on rehabilitation and education so that reformed criminals can reinter society and find a comfortable life,” said (Y/N).

Kirk waved a hand. “They’ve created lives for themselves in the colonies; I’ve seen it myself.”

“Message, Captain,” said Uhura. “Switching to speaker.”

“Tantalus Colony to Enterprise. Dr. Adams here,” said Adams. “We are unable to locate one of our inmates. This is a potentially violent case. Possibly hidden in the box we beamed up to you. Repeat—unable to locate one of our inmates. This is a potentially violent case.”

“Enterprise acknowledging. Stand by,” said Uhura.

“Security Alert Three,” announced Kirk, sending the alert out to the ship.

“Captain, Section C, Deck Fourteen reporting trouble,” reported Uhura. “Someone in Engineering uniform.”

“I have them, Captain,” said Spock. “Closing off Deck 14, search in progress.”

“Transporter crewman found unconscious, sir,” announced Uhura.

“Terribly sorry, Captain. I take all the blame,” said Adams. “He’s clever as well as extremely violent. Take all possible precautions.”

“We’ll keep you posted,” said Captain.

“Interesting,” observed Spock thoughtfully. “Earth people glorify violence for forty centuries, but you imprison those who employ it privately.”

“And of course, your people found an answer,” muttered Bones.

“We disposed of emotion, Doctor,” said Spock. “Where’s there no emotion, there’s no motive for violence.”

Bones groaned and looked at (Y/N). “Tell me Celians did something a little more humane.”

They smiled. “The Vulcans found peace one way, Celians found another. We embraced and learned to be empathetic to work through issues while the Vulcans used logic.”

Bones was about to answer when the Turbolift doors opened, and a panicked man in an engineering uniform jumped out, knocked down the security guard, and took his phaser.

“Where’s the captain?!” he cried. “Which one of you is the captain?!”

“I’m Captain Kirk.”

The man stumbled towards him. (Y/N) watched him carefully for any signs of anger, which would indicate he was going to attack Kirk, but so far it was only large amounts of fear coming from him.

“My name is…” He gasped in pain suddenly. “…Van Gelder!” he managed to get the worst out through the apparent agony. “I want asylum!”

“At gunpoint?” questioned Kirk, glancing at (Y/N) to see their reading. They gave a subtle shake of her head to indicate an attack wasn’t that likely.

“I want you to promise first,” stammered Van Gelder. “That you won’t take me back to Tantalus.” He shuddered.

(Y/N) narrowed their eyes, a thousand questions about his fear bouncing around their head. “We can’t promise you that in good faith. Not with a weapon in your hand. Give to us.” They avoided looking at Spock as he circled calmly behind Van Gelder so they wouldn’t tip him off.

“No!” he cried. “No, I’m not going back!” A crazed, desperate look entered his eyes again. “I’ll disable your vessel first. You choose, Captain. I’ll destroy your control panel!”

Spock moved quickly behind Van Gelder, and with a single, fluid, efficient movement, he used the Vulcan Nerve Pinch on the inmate. Van Gelder collapsed to the ground, and (Y/N) grabbed the phaser as it skittered across the floor and gave it back to the security officer.

“Take him to Sickbay,” ordered Kirk. “Reverse course. Head back for Tantalus Colony.”

“Estimated arrival at Tantalus?” asked Kirk, looking quite pensive after his visit to the infirmary. To tell the truth, (Y/N) was as well since they saw the pure fear in Van Gelder, not the anger or rapidly changing temperament they would see in patients who posed a danger. They wanted to figure out what was going on.

“Fifty-seven minutes, thirty seconds, Captain,” reported Spock, still intently looking at his screen with (Y/N).

“There just so happens to be an identification tape of one ‘Dr. Simon Van Gelder.’ ” (Y/N) looked at Kirk. “And it just so happens that he was assigned to Tantalus Colony six months ago, not committed. He was Dr. Adams’s associated.”

“I’d suggest you ask Dr. Adams for an explanation,” said Spock.

“If there is one,” added (Y/N).

“Ship to surface,” said Kirk to Uhura.

“Tantalus Colony,” said Uhura, paging the surface. “Hailing frequency’s open, sir.”

“U.S.S. Enterprise to Tantalus Colony.” Kirk sat down in his chair.

“Tantalus,” replied a communications officer from down below.

“This is Captain Kirk. I’d like to speak to Dr. Adams,” requested Kirk.

“Here, Captain,” said Adams.

“Doctor, regarding your escaped man—”

“Is Dr. Van Gelder alright?” asked Adams.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow and leaned back in their chair. Weird…He only said he was a dangerous patient earlier. It’s like he’s changing his story to fit with facts as we discover them. They shook their head. But it’s just one time, so I can’t be certain. Still…I don’t think I trust Dr. Adams.

“And your people, no injuries?” continued Adams.

“No casualties, sir,” replied Kirk. “This man is Dr. Simon Van Gelder?” He was disconcerted, slightly confused, and not a little unbelieving.

“Yes, of course,” confirmed Adams. “You’re certain he’s alright? We’ve been very concerned. In the violent state he’s in…”

“No harm to him, sir,” assured Kirk. “We thought you might enlighten us as to his condition.”

“He’s been doing some experimental work. An experimental beam we’d hoped might rehabilitate incorrigibles,” explained Adams.

(Y/N) grimaced. As I thought, he’s doing the whole “I will change their actual brains!” routine. And it proved dangerous, too. Just what is he doing down there? Can he really be trusted?

“Van Gelder felt he hadn’t the moral right to expose another man to something he hadn’t tried on his own person,” said Adams ruefully.

“Tragic, Doctor,” said Kirk, standing up, satisfied with the answer.

“Jim…” murmured Bones quietly, walking down next to him. “That doesn’t quite ring true.”

Kirk furrowed his brow in confusion but nodded to his surgeon nonetheless. “Dr. Adams, please stand by.” He switched off the comms. “Explain.”

“I don’t believe him,” said Bones. “I can’t explain it, but the more I study that patient—”

“You don’t believe him, and you can’t explain it. Bones, you are aware that in the last twenty years Dr. Adams has done more to revolutionize, to humanize prisons and the treatment of prisoners than all the rest of humanity has done in forty centuries?” questioned Kirk. “I’ve been to those penal colonies since they’ve begun following his methods, and they’re not cages anymore. They’re clean, decent hospitals for sick minds.”

“Captain, I feel the same as Bones,” said (Y/N). They tapped their lip pensively as they stared at the screen which displayed Tantalus far below. “His work is too perfect. Van Gelder is the first person anything’s gone wrong on, and he just so happens to be an associate? He just so happens to be more afraid than deranged? It’s too much of coincidence as Adams’s first outlier. For that matter, he should have more of these cases. It’s like if you trained a hundred people to walk a tightrope. It’s nearly impossible for none of them to ever fall, but Adams’s penal colonies seem to do just that.” They shrugged. “There’s just too much that is strange in Tantalus. I’d suggest we see if anything else is happening or if this really is a medical miracle before proceeding.”

“Exactly!” affirmed Bones. “Jim, I just don’t tru—”

Spock cleared his throat, and the three looked at him. “While I agree there are variables to be considered, the first course of action must be to ask if Dr. Adams wants Van Gelder returned.”

Kirk cleared his throat before turning the comms back on. “Dr. Adams, regarding Van Gelder—”

“Yes, Captain. May I inquire about your patrol destinations? Are you passing near any hospital facilities superior to ours? I’d like Van Gelder to have the best possible treatment, of course.” Adams interrupted with the perfect, assuring words.

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Kirk. “I’ll inquire with the ship’s surgeon. Stand by.” He switched the mic off again. “Well, Bones, you’ve got the call. You care to recommend a better place?” It was a clear challenge.

“There are no superior facilities. He knows that.” But Bones wouldn’t back down for anyone. “But that’s not the question. If something unusual is going on down there—”

“An assumption, Doctor,” reminded Kirk.

“I’m entitled to enter any reasonable doubts into my medical log,” said Bones. “That requires you to answer in your log.” Kirk nearly smiled at Bones’s clever decision, and (Y/N) did outright. “Sorry, Jim.” Kirk glanced at Spock, who raised his eyebrows, almost questioning his Captain on whether or not he would step up to the challenge.

Kirk sighed and turned on his mic. “Dr. Adams. This is rather embarrassing. By strict interpretation of our starship regulation, I’m required to initiate an investigation of this so that a proper report—”

“No need to apologize, Captain Kirk. In fact, I’d take it as a personal favor if you’d beam down and look into it yourself. I’m sure you realize we don’t get too many visitors here.” Again, Adams interjected his own calm, comforting words. “Oh, I, uh, Captain, I would appreciate it if you could come down with a minimum staff. We’re forced to limit outside contact as much as possible.”

That just so happens to be the perfect way to outnumber a threat, as well, thought (Y/N) darkly.

But Kirk was nothing was affable, smiling broadly at the invitation. “Affirmative, Doctor. I’ve visited rehab colonies before. Enterprise out.” The comms switched off, and Kirk looked at (Y/N). “(L/N), as someone versed in psychology and our Negotiations specialist, you’ll accompany me to the surface.”

“Yes, sir,” said (Y/N), standing up and smiling. Alright, Dr. Adams. Let’s see what you’re hiding behind your tightrope-walking miracles.

#logos and pathos #tos spock #mister spock #ambassador spock #spock x reader #star trek fic #star trek fanfiction #star trek the original series #star trek tos #star trek #st tos #tos #nb reader #gn reader #the original series

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hey-color-palettes · 3 years ago

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📌 Hey! 🌴 Welcome to my color palette blog! 💙🧡💚💜💛

Inbox Size: inbox: ~350 (last updated: Nov 13)

(Wait Time: I'm so sorry guys, I'll do what I can and I love you all very much genuinely but I'm already sacrificing a great deal of sleep to keep up with everything in my life for the past two months and the foreseeable rest of the year, so I'll do what I can when I can, but I can't provide any proper estimates 😔.)

(Posts are tagged with sent-on dates so you can see where I'm at in the backlog!)

Requests are always open! Basic request etiquette:

One palette request per ask, but unlimited asks!

Don't send me a request that's a choice between 2+ things. I will do both/all, so it's functionally the same as a multi-request ask. Just send them separately please.

If you want multiple palettes, send requests for them one ask at a time!!

Requests can be anything! It doesn't have to be names!

Feel free to be as specific as you'd like in your request!

DMs are only for special requests or questions.

Special requests constitute: anything time-sensitive, anything that requires communication with me, anything private that you don't want to post, and anything that otherwise can't fit in an ask.

If you have any questions whatsoever please don't hesitate to DM me! It's really not a bother!

Feel free to send me messages about the status of a request! Please don't send me the same request every few weeks if I haven't made a palette for it yet. I will make a palette for every single one of those asks whether you want me to or not. Just talk to me 😭

That being said, I'm more than willing to make multiple palettes for the same request. However, if you'd rather skip the wait, you can check if I've done something by just searching that name up on my blog!

Please do not send requests for sensitive topics and mature subjects. If a request would require a certain cultural background to create properly, please assume I don't have it!! I will fill requests at my own discretion.

Other:

I do requests in first-come-first-serve order. The time it usually takes for a request to be filled is about a month. If you need a palette more urgently, PLEASE DM ME. I check requests as they come in, but I miss a lot.

I try my absolute very best to make this a good experience for everyone, but please know that I'm extremely busy and constantly under a lot of stress. Please be patient with me.

Given how many people follow this blog, it's effectively a given that people will take issue with me at one point or another. Going forward, I will not humor anonymous asks that take anything I do here in bad faith. I WILL delete them. If I'm due for an education, my DMs and ears are open and I'm more than willing to listen and learn.

If you sent me a nice ask that was not a request, I received it!! I like to keep those so I can look at them while I'm working on new color palettes! I appreciate them a lot!!

Usage facts:

Free to use without credit! Though maybe don't claim the base palettes as is without any modification, but I won't stop you.

Feel free to tag me if you post art, though it's not a requirement! I just love seeing what you guys do!

There's a little more info on the full about page! (use a browser! Tumblr Mobile doesn't like blog pages 💔) It's a little outdated and not fully proofread, but I'll see if I can put this all on a carrd when I have time. (I'm very busy!)

#not a color palette #pinned post

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sagezora · 3 years ago

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MERCURY RX IN GEMINI MESSAGES

gemini

a lot of news and information will be coming your way. take this time to review and process before you react. try not to act too impulsively. you don’t want to get too ahead of yourself especially when dealing w finances. a variety of opportunities are being brought to you but try to pay attention for misleading information. use discernment when it comes to making long term decisions.

cancer

this rx may bring some restless and active nights. a lot is on your mind and it may be playing out through your dreams. that’s how a lot of people are reconnecting with you right now. Keep a dream journal to write and review what you experienced. hidden information may come to the surface and affect your day to day life. Take time to process it in private before reacting to avoid misunderstandings.

Leo

refocus your energy on your dreams and goals. take time to adjust and redefine your values. remove things in your life that don’t bring depth, excitement, and joy into your life. enjoy activities with new and old friends but remember your boundaries. take some time do some research to stimulate your mind. Be smart and logical with your purchases during this time. This is a great time to update and revamp your used electronics.

Virgo

redefine your career goals and long-term plans. this is a great time for rebranding. business deals and contracts should be thoroughly reviewed before agreement. old issues and situations may return but for you to approach them in a more practical manner. take your time when it comes to making decisions regarding your relationships. take everything presented to you at face value.

Libra

rediscovering your community and beliefs by experiencing and absorbing different perspectives. take time to educate yourself via books and resources that teach you the truth about the universe. take time to reconnect with your faith. readjust your routine for effectiveness. the answers you have been looking for may resurface through conversations with people that are involved with your day to day life. Pay attention and retain what is relevant.

Scorpio

take time to go more in-depth with information that may be brought to you during this time. a lot of information that you avoided or buried away will resurface as well. think before you speak to others. you may come off strong and it may lead to some misunderstandings. take it slow when it comes to dating. issues regarding deception and betrayal may resurface. others may try to trick you into getting what they want but take time to ground yourself to see things clearly.

Sagittarius

conversations with close friends and partners may reveal new or old information that may spark some excitement into your life. take your time to process before react. emotions are high which may lead to some confusion. It may also be a hard time to make a wise decision due to indecisiveness. Take your time. This may be a good time to renew certain contracts or vows but use discernment.

Capricorn

take time to restructure your routine and incorporate some fun and excitement. refocus on your mental health. remove the criticalness and nervous energy that may be affecting your health. put that energy towards learning and interactive activities. make sure you review and revise all documents/emails at work. Little mistakes and error in grammar may be likely.

Aquarius

may participate in activities that remind you of your childhood. take time to revisit old creative projects and endeavors. try to approach it in a more practical way especially when it comes to using your finances. you may be in a very playful mood. just be careful how you play with others because they may take it the wrong way.

Pisces

information from the past may be brought up during this time. It is time to withdraw and take time to reflect. try to not get too caught up with the past though. try to find a balance. a reoccurring situation regarding your siblings may come up again. remember to set your boundaries.

Aries

take some time to reflect the changes in your environment. please take your time with any form of communication. it may be harder to focus and seeing things clearly due to having a scattered mind. just reread your message before you press send. also, avoid any gossip. mind your business.

Taurus

it’s time to recenter yourself. focus on your self-worth. relearn an old skill. reread one of your favorite books to help you with your creative mental energy. take time to look at your bank activity. recreate a practical plan to help with spending logically. hidden surprises and insight may come from interactions with friends.

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pyaasa · 4 years ago

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lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers is racist; she thinks she understands racism better than poc, stands by racists, and attacks poc for trying to speak to her about racism

Tw: racism, rape mention, incest mention. also possible transphobia

For the full story, you first need a bit of background: if you’ve been following me for a while then you will be aware I have called out @ayeforscotland’s racism several times. I would recommend reading this post for a full explanation.

In addition to the incidences mentioned in the post I have just linked, ayeforscotland has also had interactions with neo @androidgynes who is Romani and another person who is black (but didn’t want to be named) and they’ve both also called him out for his racism.

Anyway so. @androidgynes saw that lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers was reblogging from ayeforscotland, and that the op of the post was @/getpoliticaluk (who defends incest). Androidgynes messaged lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers (who I will from now refer to as lagstm) and informed her that ayeforscotland is racist and getpoliticaluk defends incest - the conversation that followed went like this. (the below screenshots are posted with permission from @androidgynes)

The post that neo (@androidgynes) linked of mine was this. And I mean... clearly that particular post by ayeforscotland was very racist, he literally just sat there laughing about anti-black racism as if it was a joke. When @mangopickled tried to speak to him about how offensive this post was, he removed her comments from the notes of the post (like. to be clear: ayeforscotland, a WHITE MAN, made a post about racism, and then removed a WOMAN OF COLOUR’S commentary from that post when she told him that his comments were inappropriate). When I saw that, I called that out, and he blocked me. There’s many levels to his racism here that I don’t have the energy to explain, and if you don’t understand why it’s so problematic then you should probably stop reading here cos you clearly know nothing and probably care even less about anti-racism.

So on that particular post that neo linked to lagstm, there is ayeforscotland being racist, and 2 woc calling out his racism. And yet on having this post shown to her, this is how she chose to respond

lagstm literally says that she thinks my views on racism lack nuance. I am a woman of colour, I am visibly muslim, and I’ve experienced racism pretty much all my life. And here is a white woman saying that she thinks my views on racism “lack nuance”. I,, I genuinely don’t have words to convey how angry this makes me. Literally who does she even think she is. Not even is it racist to dismiss my literal LIVED experience of being a woman of colour in this country, but she is literally saying “look at these stupid brown folk, they don’t know what they’re talking about cos they’re so stupid :)”

neo points out firstly that as a white person lagstm doesn’t have the right to make that call, and also that there is ofc another woc on that post saying that exact same thing, and androidgynes themselves are roma. lagstm is not just dismissing me as a stupid savage who is too stupid to form complex thoughts, but she is also indirectly saying the same thing about 2 other poc, and saying that her judgement, as a white person, is more sound than all of ours.

It’s also worth mentioning that neo, who is Romani, was polite to lagstm during this exchange, and lagstm was rude and dismissive. I find this deeply hypocritical. Lagstm has been talking a lot about the policing bill and how it will affect GRT communities, but when she’s talking to someone who is actually *from* the Roma community, she is dismissive and condescending. All this shows is that she’s fake AF. She pretends to care about the Roma community on her blog and then speaks down to them in private.

And again this is worth repeating: AYEFORSCOTLAND WAS BEING RACIST ON THAT POST. IT WAS RACIST. WHAT HE SAID WAS RACIST. So lagstm isn’t just ignoring 3 poc, she is also ignoring,,,, you know,,, the actual racism,,,

And she also says ayeforscotland is borderline racist? Like she acknowledges ayeforscotland is borderline racist but she’s still happy to follow him? Like that alone would be enough for me actually

neo then blocked lagstm and messaged me and told me what happened, and showed me the above screenshots - btw prior to this neo and I had never interacted. Anyway I was obviously a bit disgusted but instead of going straight to blocking lagstm or making a callout post straight away, I messaged her to explain herself and take back what she said. That is now two poc who tried to resolve the matter privately - clearly a lot more than lagstm ever deserved. Androidgynes messaged me last Friday, and I messaged lagstm the next day on Saturday

My convo with lagstm went as follows:

So you can see that initially she was apologetic and said she “didn’t mean to imply that that my judgement on racism was flawed” (even tho that’s literally what she said) and defended herself by saying “I react poorly in interactions like this” - genuinely not a defence but whatever. She then proceeded to say that what she doesn’t trust my opinion on is Scotland and Ireland - which completely irrelevant. Firstly I am ambivalent to Scottish nationalism and have always said I don’t know much about it, and I support the reunification of Ireland. And secondly, my issue with aye has got literally nothing to do with Scotland or Scottish nationalism; he is racist all on his own. And the post neo linked was barely even about scottish nationalism, it was just him being anti-black. So lagstm saying “I don’t trust your judgement on Scotland and Ireland” is ridiculous considering that Scottish/Irish nationalism have nothing to do with this.

Like akjfbkjdfbs this is actually so ridiculous. It doens’t make any sense. Lagstm clearly says “I don’t trust pakisstani’s judgement on THIS issue [the issue being racism] and her views on THIS issue [the issue being racism] lack nuance” but now turns around and says “I wasn’t talking about racism, I was talking about Scotland/Ireland” like she must really think I’m dumb

And you can see Lagstm bringing up unrelated hypothetical scenarios, and saying “in this situation, you can’t tell me to defer to poc” which i found ??? Like why are you bringing up scenarios in which you think you are allowed to educate us poor and stupid black and brown folk?? I then told her she was straw-manning and that her points about Ireland/Scotland were ridiculous, but then she claimed it was me that was engaging her in bad faith. Like SHE, the white woman who practically said that I am too stupid to understand racism, and when confronted on it started straw-manning and bringing up unrelated scenarios, said I am not engaging her in good faith. AFTER both neo and I tried to speak to her privately about this. Like I tried to speak to her privately AFTER I FOUND OUT SHE HAD SAID RACIST THINGS ABOUT ME. BUT I’M NOT ENGAGING HER IN GOOD FAITH? LMAOOO

And then the accusation about rape threats which is actually the most disgusting part of this entire thing. I shouldn’t have to explain that accusing 2 poc of conspiring to send her rape threats (without any evidence whatsoever. Frankly I think she’s lying about the rape threats 🤷🏽‍♀️ it’s quite a transparent attempt to distract from her own nasty behaviour and deflect onto us) is actually extremely racist. She is invoking her white fragility and painting me and androidgynes as aggressors who are threatening her safety and inflicting/threatening to inflict sexual violence on her. It is beyond disgusting 🤮

What’s more, neo is trans, so when lagstm is baselessly accusing them of issues related to rape, she is also playing up to transphobic tropes.

One more thing worth mentioning is that there are several lies peppered throughout lagstm’s comments. Firstly when she claimed to have briefly unfollowed me - she didn’t actually. I was checking regularly, and she never unfollowed me. This was a small lie that I picked up on striaght away but because it wasn’t relevant I didn’t say anything about it. But I just think it’s interesting that she would lie for no reason. And another lie - feigning ignorance about ayeforscotland’s racism, and actually even asking for receipts is incredibly disingenuous when on this particular post, if you scroll through the notes, you can see she has literally liked it. Like she had already seen the posts where me and mangopickled called out his racism and literally LIKED it, and when neo says to lagstm that aye is racist, lagstm says “receipts please :)” YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN THEM! AND LIKED THEM! screenshot in case she unlikes it (sorry for including dumb comments by dumb scots but i need to prove it’s the same post so):

LASTLY. Last point I swear. When lagstm said “it was also coloured by the statements they’d made about another tumblr user, which didn’t relate to racism, which I didn’t address with them because I didn’t want to upset them” <- she must mean getpoliticaluk defending incest? So like what is lagstm saying here, she didn’t want to bring up that she also herself defends incest?? Like is she tryna say she’s a pro-shipping freak?????????????????????? What other way is there to read that statment

Okay that’s everything.

I’m not interested in discourse on this post - if you are white and think lagstm isn’t racist or you’re inclined to defend her then save your breath, I don’t need white people telling me what is or isn’t racist. I gave her the chance to defend herself, which is way more than she deserves, and this is how she responds. Her actions and indefensible and she can choke ☺️❤️ I will be unfollowing/blocking anyone I see reblogging from her because I deserve better than to follow people who are ok with racists ❤️

#lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers #uk politics #<- tagging this so all of you can see what kind of person you're reblogging ☺️❤️#ayeforscotland

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beardofkamenev · 4 years ago

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When Adults Attack! (Teenagers)

(Sorry to everyone for dragging this up again, but some people are chronically incapable of letting drama die down.)

The last time I posted about this was 18 February. It’s now late-March. Despite repeatedly claiming to be “over it”, a self-proclaimed “respected history blogger” has been screaming into the void for over a month now. She seems to be under the unfortunate impression that she’s completely innocent of wrongdoing, all the criticism is unprovoked, she has been targeted by “white bigots”, and that she’s somehow the real victim here. So now I have to explain why that’s bullshit. Unlike her and her two friends, I don’t make extreme but vague accusations with zero evidence. I don’t make empty threats about “exposing” people.

The short story? She involved her own self in a situation that had nothing to do with her, downplayed her friends’ racism towards others, incited her followers to harass a teenager, repeatedly lied to her followers about the multiple POC who criticised her friends being “white”, and has continued to inflame the issue while trying to downplay her role in doing so. The long story? Well, I’ll let the receipts do the talking.

That’s Olivia’s first post at the start of February, days before I or anyone else had even said anything. “My anonymous Jewish friend said!” should have been a red flag to anyone capable of reading anything longer than 280 characters. I’ve already explained why Haley (lucreciadeleon/turtlemoons plus her 92849374 alt accounts) is full of shit and so have plenty of others (here, here, and here, to name a few).

Olivia claims that, as a Romani woman, she’s not obliged to engage with content that offends her. Fine.��So why is a black teenager obliged to engage with Haley’s deranged anons? Why are her hate anons are so worthy of a response that not responding is an act of ANTISEMITISM that warrants Olivia telling everyone what an antisemite this teenager is for not responding? FYI, NO ONE is obligated to respond to anon hate, especially from people they’ve already blocked. And considering Haley admitted not once, not twice, but three times to breaking Tumblr’s TOS to circumvent a mutual block and send those anons (including how she did it), people are especially not obligated to engage with her.

I made my first posts exposing Taylor (lucreziaborgia/elizabethblount) and Haley’s lies and backtracking on 6 and 7 February. This was before I acknowledged Olivia’s role in inflaming the situation. In fact, I didn’t even know about her tweets until 8 February. Yet, here she is on 6 FEBRUARY already bitching about my posts to her Twitter followers. She has some nerve acting like I victimised her, just because I posted the screenshots of her bitching about me. And bragging about ‘gaslighting’? The word that multiple people have separately described what her two friends subjected them to? Classy.

I can’t “stalk” her public Twitter any more than she can “stalk” my public blog. What an exceptionally stupid claim to make, considering her tweets kept getting recommended to my mutuals whether they liked it or not. Have some integrity and own the shit you say, rather than backtracking, deleting your posts, and pretending that you didn’t say the things we saw you say. If you want to talk shit about others in public, be ready to answer for it in public.

I also wonder how this started over Henry VII. I specifically wonder how this discussion between myself and May (richmond-rex) triggered Taylor’s totally unprovoked racist comments about how we and Nathen Amin “simp for a dead white man”, and we should “simp for someone who actually advocated for the rights of others” instead. The implication being that Tudor history is only for white people like Taylor, and that only her fave is worthy of discussion (“AnNe BoLeYn WaS oThErEd BeCaUsE sHe WaS tAn.” Good grief).

When multiple POC called bootleg Regina George out for it, not only did she say she couldn’t possibly be racist because Haley approved of her racism, but also tried to argue that Nathen Amin deserved it because it was inappropriate for a British man to joke about Brexit. She then claimed we called her “anti-Welsh” (another fucking lie) to make it seem like a bunch of cRaZy blacks and browns were attacking poor, innocent white her (with Olivia coming to the rescue, of course). And as if that wasn’t enough, Haley then sent these bad faith hate anons calling Nathen Amin’s tweet ANTISEMITIC, for no other reason than to retroactively justify Taylor’s racist comments (though I didn’t see Haley getting offended when she was hate-scrolling through his blog before Taylor was called out).

That was the “antisemitic shit” Haley “privately messaged about” that Olivia thinks deserves a response. In case it's not clear: defending racism makes you complicit in racism. Being Jewish is NOT a get-out-of-racism-free card, and Haley trying to use it as one is absolutely dishonest, especially when NO ONE even knew she was Jewish until she finally admitted in February she was the anonymous ‘Jewish friend’ who sent those batshit anons. Other Jewish people also called Haley out on it, yet Haley and Olivia have conveniently ignored that little fact since it contradicts their narrative.

You think it’s over? Nope. Taylor then slunk into May’s dm’s with a half-arsed apology, where she admitted that the only reason she made those racist comments about Nathen Amin was because we “attacked Gareth Russell first” (“BeCaUsE AnNe FaNs CiTe HiS wOrk”) and she “just wanted to educate us about not lionising Henry VII” (even though anyone with eyeballs can read our discussion see she’s full of shit). At the same time, she and Haley were messaging other history bloggers, telling them that everyone who called them out were antisemites (including an openly Jewish mutual of ours) in an attempt to alienate them from the community. And this was just in JANUARY.

“I can’t be racist! My Jewish friend agrees with my racism!” That steaming load of backtracking horseshit is unfortunately the kind of nonsense Olivia has chosen to defend. FOR WEEKS Taylor ignored May’s messages, explaining why she — a black woman — found Taylor’s comments offensive. Did Taylor listen? Nope. In fact, she only replied in February: after she already started posting about how ignoring Haley’s hate anons was “antisemitism”. How convenient. Taylor might be a fucking idiot but we’re not. She only replied to May because she was afraid we’d use her own words against her. Clearly she never learnt a damn thing because here she is on 6 February backtracking on her apology. “Actually, I did NOTHING wrong! Also, you’re all antisemites for saying I did because my Jewish friend agrees with me!” And what made Taylor feel as though she had permission to start deflecting her vile behaviour onto others in order to get the heat off her? Olivia’s post about ‘their Jewish friend’ Haley: the one that followed Olivia’s “private discussion” with “her two friends”. Taylor is a racist hypocrite who hides behind the few minority friends she has to justify her racism, and attacks every other minority who disagrees with her. It’s no coincidence that the majority of the history bloggers who have a problem with Taylor and Haley’s nasty behaviour happen to be POC.

Despite Olivia admitting that she knew nothing about that situation other than what those two told her, she still took it upon herself to misconstrue and downplay to all her followers the extent of her friends’ racism, lies, and general nastiness (here she is on 9 MARCH). For her, our problems with racism are little more than “stupid drama”, “Henry VII drama”, “Gareth Russell drama”, “overreacting to a joke”, and “petty disagreements over dead people” because her friends are the perpetrators. Yet she demands everyone sympathise with her never-ending dramas and projects her behaviour onto others, despite the fact that she’s shown absolutely no understanding for why so many people have problems with her friends and has consistently defended the perpetrators. She’s entitled to be upset at whatever she wants to be upset at, but she is not entitled to tell her followers that we can’t be upset about racism directed at us, especially when that situation NEVER EVEN INVOLVED HER.

I agree. It’s disturbing that three grown women in their mid to late 20s have a vendetta against an 18 year old. Olivia acknowledged that her posts were reckless and that she would have acted differently if she just sat down and thought for one fucking second. But rather than correct the record on the same platform she made those accusations, she doubled down and took off to Twitter, saying that her anger entitled her to act that way. All with zero acknowledgement of the fact that the teenager SHE falsely accused and repeatedly mocked for her age was still being harassed by HER followers as a direct result of HER posts.

She might love the ‘clout’ that comes with a large following, but she evidently doesn’t care about the responsibility that comes with it. In Taylor and Haley’s case, it’s little more than a means to intimidate others into silence. Olivia might be a “respected history blogger” or a “good historian”, but that definitely doesn’t make her a good person. Far from it, if her behaviour is anything to go by.

This was on 9 February, 3 days after my first post. Bitching about me was all fun and games until the receipts came out, huh?

There’s nothing “insane” about keeping receipts, especially when Taylor and Haley are notorious for lying out of their arses and fake-apologising to people in the dm’s, only to continue mocking them on Twitter afterwards. You know what is insane though? Searching ‘romani’ on our blogs in a pathetic attempt to dig up dirt that doesn’t even exist (yeah, stat trackers exist). Do you know what else is insane? Haley spamming people with passive aggressive anons and sending anon hate to people who’ve already blocked her. She also “stalked” our WOTR group chat, though she’ll never admit to it, despite accidentally posting the dated receipts proving it. Oops!

It’s no secret that Taylor and Haley are cowards (as all bullies are), so it was no surprise when they eventually involved Olivia in their month-old vendetta against a teenager. They wanted to school a black girl on racism and Congolese genocide apologism, so they needed to get a “respectable history blogger” on their side. And Olivia happily obliged, kicking up such a fuss on their behalf that the teenager just offered to end it (despite the fact that Olivia vagued her first). Yet still Olivia continued, publicly mocking her age and calling her an “antisemite” long after the discussion was over (here she is on 24 February still carrying on). Either a teenager is old enough to be publicly shamed for being an “antisemite” and “antiromani bigot”, or she’s too young to be taken seriously. But at 25, Olivia is certainly old enough to know better than to participate in this kind of vile, petty, wannabe Mean Girl behaviour.

Olivia is not black. Taylor is not black. Haley is not black. So for the record, if you are not black, it is not your place to tell BLACK PEOPLE whether they can take issue with apologism for BLACK GENOCIDE. Multiple black history bloggers have already explained why they had a problem with Gareth Russell’s comments about the Congolese genocide (including the teen in question), yet that was less important to Olivia than not being able to call him a sexist weirdo because he’s gay. Olivia cannot speak on all minority issues — especially black and brown issues — and it is arrogant of her to assume that she can, especially since her understanding of the Gareth Russell issue came purely from “what she discussed with her two friends” by her own admission.

What a take. Here’s the “anti-Romani” post that I supposedly made. Precisely ZERO of my posts were about Olivia and not once did I even name her directly. So her claims that I mounted some kind of “vicious attack” against her is, uh, bullshit. Criticising her and her friends for their nasty, dishonest, and irresponsible behaviour isn’t “anti-Romani” just because she’s Romani. It’s no more “anti-Romani” than her erratic attempts to “expose” me are anti-Asian just because I’m Asian. It’s not any more “anti-Romani” just because the UK government has passed anti-Romani laws, any more than her telling deranged lies about me for over a month is an anti-Asian hate crime simply because there’s been an increase in anti-Asian hate crimes. I’m not British. I’m not from the UK. I have no control over whatever dumb, racist crap her government does. So she can fuck off and continue fucking off if she wants to make me personally responsible for that. The backlash she received had nothing to do with her identity and everything to do with how she purposely incited harassment against a teenager, defended her friends’ racism, and spread demonstrable lies to her followers. The “viciousness” of the backlash she received is directly proportionate to the viciousness of her own baseless attacks against others. She can claim to be more mature than an 18 year old all she wants, but do you know what the actual mature thing to do would have been? To not promote her friends’ lies and nonsense, especially when the other people they tried to involve had the sense to stay out of it.

Olivia, Taylor and Haley are fully-grown adults, but take no responsibility for their actions. Yet, they expect teenagers to have total control over not only their own emotions, but also the emotions and actions of others. Olivia thinks that a teen should be personally responsible for the behaviour of fully-grown adults, yet she’s close friends with Taylor — a racist, xenophobic bully who screenshots Tumblr people’s posts to mock them on Twitter (here and here from December), called Poles who’ve lost relatives in the Holocaust “genocidal loving freaks”, accused an openly Ashkenazi Jewish blogger of “internalised antisemitism” just for criticising her (a white gentile), said that people who like Mary I “resent their own siblings”, co-opted our struggles under Spanish imperialism just so she could bully ‘Spaniards’ (despite her being American and therefore equally responsible for genocide, by her flawed logic), and said that the black teen who called out her racism “really deserved to be bullied” and “needed to be policed”. Olivia is also close friends with Haley, who has a history of attacking people over posts that have nothing to do with her, publicly admitted to circumventing blocks in order to send hate anons, and likened me — a Filipino immigrant — to DONALD TRUMP and a neo-Nazi conspiracy theorist just because I posted the receipts exposing her lies, harassment of others, and projection.

Most of the people who have spoken out against these three didn’t even know each other until last month. Some of ‘us’ have actually blocked each other. Yet all of us agree that their behaviour towards others has been absolutely unacceptable. How is it that so many unrelated people from different corners of the ‘fandom’ have exactly the same problems with exactly the same people? If Olivia want us to take personal responsibility for “our friends’” behaviour, then she should first take responsibility for hers.

This is on 26 February, over a week after I last posted. As anyone with eyeballs can see, I called her British once. Not “repeatedly”. ONCE. So she can fuck off again with that bullshit. And why did I point that out? Because Olivia, a British citizen, made pejorative comments about “white Eastern Europeans!!!” just because she thinks some Polish people committed the heinous crime of... screenshotting her tweets. They didn’t even do it, and even if they did, how is that even relevant? Everyone knows that one specific Polish person lives rent free in Taylor’s head, so clearly Olivia just took Taylor’s word for it that it must have been The Poles who were “stalking” her. Maybe don’t take paranoid liars at face value next time?

Shameless, ignorant, tone deaf nonsense. Olivia constantly demands that people treat her and her identity with the utmost respect, yet here she was on 9 February already disrespecting the identities of others just so she can score some petty ‘oppression points’ against them. Why even bring their nationalities up? And why call them “white Eastern Europeans” instead of Polish since she knows they’re Polish? Is it because acknowledging that they are Polish would mean acknowledging that she doesn’t actually have a monopoly on a claim to discrimination or Holocaust trauma? Could it be that dismissing them as just some “white Eastern Europeans” was just another way for her to add credence to her own “pathetic lies” about the situation? There’s a word for that behaviour, and it starts with pro- and ends with -jection.

Let me reiterate: it is IGNORANT of her to use their identity against them, especially when hate-crimes against Polish immigrants have increased in her home country, and especially when the specific people she insulted lost close relatives (including Jewish relatives) in the Holocaust. It’s not “repeatedly mocking her identity” to point out her hypocrisy. Her being Romani is not an excuse for casual xenophobia. She might be able to hide her identity in the UK (though she shouldn’t have to), but Polish immigrants do not have the privilege of passing as first-language white British. I cannot pass as non-Asian. The black girl she and her friends tried to bully off Tumblr cannot pass as non-black. Olivia weaponising people’s identity against them just because she thinks they saw her public tweets is ignorant, petty, and completely uncalled for. She should be absolutely ashamed for using that pathetic argument, but based on her most recent farrago of nonsense, she probably won’t be.

Here’s her on 7 MARCH. And of course Taylor was the first to like it lol. Olivia may have deluded herself into believing she was just an innocent bystander, but unfortunately, enough people saw her admitting to inserting herself into the situation at the behest of her two friends. With every post before and since, her accusations have gotten wilder and wilder, falser and falser, and more and more irrelevant because she knows full well that none of her followers will bother fact-checking her. That’s the beauty of vagueing people. It’s how Taylor and Haley have been able to get away with pulling the wool over peoples’ eyes for so long. Too bad repetition, projection, and self-righteous outrage doesn’t equate to the truth because those are all those three have.

“SOMEONE NEEDS TO EXPOSE THE WHOLE DAMN LOT OF THEM! BUT IT WON’T BE ME!”

No one has said anything since 18 February, yet here’s Olivia publicly inciting her followers again. She’s “done talking about it”, yet she’s the only one continuing the drama. She is being ‘persecuted’, yet she mobilises her followers to go after others. She needs to be defended against critics, yet she also can’t resist bragging about big her Tumblr following is, how “piddly” our notes are compared to hers, how she got over 30 followers to report my posts (they’re still up lol), and how many people she can get to dig through our blogs to find anything to “expose” us. Olivia, I’m sorry that you require constant validation from strangers on the internet, but not everyone has the same priorities as you. Some of us just come here to have fun, but having shitstarters in the community is decidedly un-fun.

All my posts were directed at Taylor and Haley, but since Olivia insists on making this revolve around her, let me clarify: she is a hypocrite and a professional victim. Words have meaning, and those words are the most accurate words to describe her behaviour. It has fuck all to do with her identity. She and Haley are professional victims because they act as if their minority statuses exempt them from basic rules of online courtesy and entitle them to run their mouths about others with no consequence. And Olivia is a hypocrite because she demands the respect and understanding that she has repeatedly refused to show to others. She made ignorant, xenophobic comments against Polish people because she falsely assumed they screenshot her public posts bitching about others. She pretends that the many POC who have spoken out against her are just some “white” hive-mind because admitting that we’re not white will discredit the victimhood narrative she’s been peddling to her followers. And she arrogantly presumes to be ‘our’ voice in the community, all while mobilising her following to intimidate and silence the minorities who take issue with her and her friends’ vile behaviour.

It’s extremely telling that in every one of her unlettered rants, Olivia made the conscious choice to conflate us with “white gentiles”, “white antisemites”, and “white Eastern Europeans”. Why? Because in order to “name and shame” us, she’d have to admit to her followers that the majority of the people criticising her aren’t actually “white”, but are in fact black, brown, and Jewish. Having repeatedly demanded that her followers defend her, her reputation and credibility now depends upon people continuing to see her as the oppressed victim of “bigoted whites”. Unfortunately for her and her friends, the truth will always come out. That’s what receipts are for, no matter what they claim.

The history community didn’t side with “a white gentile woman”. We sided with a black teenager who Olivia and her friends repeatedly mocked for her age, publicly and privately spread false accusations against, and incited their followers to harass with their never-ending posts. We sided against white racists like Taylor, and her white-passing enablers like Olivia and Haley. Since being called out for racism by a black girl discredited them, they had to discredit her. And unlike the others Taylor and Haley tried to involve, Olivia was their willing accomplice. If she has now been “alienated by half the history fandom”, it is because of her own behaviour and rightly so.

The ideal course of action would be for Olivia to finally take some responsibility for her actions, publicly apologise for her role in inflaming this drama, and move on like the rest of us have tried to do. But unfortunately, she may be too far gone in her own pathological need for online validation to ever admit wrongdoing without some serious introspection. So perhaps, Olivia, if anything else, you should just take your own advice and, once and for all, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

#here's my fucking rent #seeing as i've lived in your head for a whole month #dumb and dumber #disk horse for ts #long post

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yummyyume · 5 years ago

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In which Ladybug and Chat Noir are true Heroes

I’ve been sitting on it for a few weeks now. It wasn’t supposed to really be a fic, but it turns out okay, so I decided to finish it and post it anyway. The end is kind of rush, but I wanted to be done with it so, yeah.

Hope you all like it!

I apologize for any spelling and grammars errors, English is not my first language. I hope it’s still intelligible.

Marinette is doing a better job at superheroing than she ever thought she would. Still, contacting real professionals sounds like a good idea. Chat is a bit reticent at first, because being Chat Noir is the only freedom he has and he doesn’t want it to end, but after she points out all the people who are suffering, he shamefully agrees to call the Justice League with her.

They don’t receive any answer, and no one shows up.

Chat is sure that it’s because there’s a world ending threat they have to take care of first, and they’ll answer as soon as they can. After the fifth’s plea for help, he doesn’t seem to really believe it either. Still, they continue to call every month.

When Chat becomes too pushy with his flirting, she sits him down, taking a day off from patrolling, and shows him a video about sexual harassment. He watches the entire thing, horrified. And then he apologizes and swears to never flirt again and he’s so, so sorry, but he really doesn’t know how to do social things or how to deal with his crush in a non-anime way, he only ever had one friend before starting school and she wasn’t the best at social interactions either and can Ladybug ever forgive him?

So, Marinette calms him down and tells him it’s alright. Everyone makes mistakes, even more so when they don’t know about the issue. And maybe he can ask his new friends about ethics and social issues. And of course, she’ll be there to answer any of his questions. We’re partner, chaton.

So, the next day, at school, Adrien takes Nino aside so they can have a private talk. He tells him about the crush he developed on this girl he works him, about the flirting and how she showed him a video on sexual harassment, and he didn’t know. So can Nino, please, helps him learn this sort of things? Anything Gabriel wouldn’t have thought Adrien needed to be taught, because those were society thing that everyone learnt eventually. Except, apparently, Adrien.

Nino is horrified. He’s so going to kick Gabriel Agreste’s ass! This is what happen when you isolate your kid!

But Nino is also really proud of his bro for accepting that he was in the wrong and trying to educate himself.

They start by learning more about sexism together. Then Nino ropes Max, Kim, Marinette and Alya into teaching him about racism. And then, Juleka pipes up about ableism. Soon enough the whole class is involved and they’re all learning about all kind of harassments and world problems. They’re all learning things. Chloé gets involved more and more as Ladybug’s influence gets stronger. They have debates and everyone try to stay nice and not talk over each other. It doesn’t always work, but at least they stay respectful.

(And Adrien realizes that maybe he can say no too. Maybe sexual harassment is not something that only women have to deal with. And maybe child labor laws have merit. Maybe what his father is doing is really abuse. Maybe he can do something about it. He has his friends to support him and they won’t let his father just take him out of school because he disagrees with Adrien. Maybe he can be really free.)

A few weeks after the video, Chat Noir excitedly tells Ladybug about what he’s been learning with his friends, and Marinette hides a wince at the confirmation of her suspicions. Because it was definitely suspicious when Adrien asks Nino about ethics the following day of their talk about sexual harassment. She hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it and she didn’t tell Tikki, because the moment she thought about telling her kwami, she remembered with sharp clarity Chat Noir telling her “I can only be myself when I’m Chat Noir” And Marinette can’t take that away from Adrien. He’s her partner and, no matter the lack of romantic feelings, she loves him.

It also puts her crush on Adrien in question, because if she’s in love with Adrien, but not Chat Noir, then she doesn’t love Adrien in his entirety. And since Adrien is not really himself in public, then that means she’s in love with the image he’s portraying to the world, not the real him. She has a good cry, it’s her first heartbreak, but then it’s easier to let go of her crush and focus on being his friend. And Adrien looks like Christmas has come early when they have a full conversation without her stammering. The fact that he thought she didn’t like him and didn’t want to be his friend breaks her heart a little.

(She may or may not tell him she knows his identity and also shares hers, but only when they’re already transformed so their kwamis don’t know they know. Maybe.)

Fast forward a few months, Ladybug and Chat Noir are a very efficient team and the students of Miss Bustier’s class are closer than ever.

(Volpina happened and then Lila ‘leaves for Achuu’. Mrs. Rossi may be busy, but she doesn’t want her daughter’s education to fall behind and so she calls the school to know if the State will help pay for tutors while the Akuma situation is being handled and that’s how she learns that her daughter is lying to her. Again. Lila is shipped back to Italy to attend a strict boarding school.)

The Justice League still hasn’t answered.

And then Syren happens and two million people died.

It doesn’t matter that Ladybug brought them back with her cure, they still died! And they remember drowning! She read the comments on the Ladyblog, people are scared! She was aware that people died in Akuma attacks, but none have been as deadly as Syren. (And she’s so, so relieved that Ondine doesn’t remember the damage she did. She’s a teenage girl, she doesn’t need this sort of trauma to drag her down. Marinette knows from Kim that she’s already feeling enough guilt when she heard about it after everything was back to normal.)

This time, Ladybug doesn’t just call the League. She ropes Alya into helping her and she rants for a good five minutes about what is happening in Paris and two million people died, don’t you care?! Aren’t you supposed to be heroes?! Alya posts it to the Ladyblog and sends it to the JLA.

That how the Parisians learn that Ladybug and Chat Noir have been trying to contact the League for months and they’re all pretty angry at the dismissal. Everyone who can, send an email or call. They’re going to be heard, dammit!

The Justice League’s mailbox gets so suddenly flooded that all the heroes receive an alert about an emergency and they all immediately zeta-beam to the Watchtower. Diana has to finish her mission on Themyscira before she can meet everyone, but she has full faith in her teammates to hold on until she gets there.

The heroes are then confronted with the video of a rating teenager about the flooding of Paris and all her followers.

“Paris is not flooded!” Superman seethes, looking at the monitor. “And the heat signatures are roughly the same number as yesterday!”

Some more poking and they find the Ladyblog run by a teenager with shaky videos about her classmates somehow becoming supervillain. The CGI is pretty great but it’s so cliché, it’s hilarious.

(Diana receives a ‘false alert’ message and rolls her eyes. Men.)

“We don’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but it can’t happen again.” Batman says.

Heroes start to zeta-beam back to their city, grumbling.

“Someone should go put the fear of God in the kid.” Red Hood jokes, rolling his eyes (not that anyone could see).

“Thank you, Red Hood, for volunteering,” Batman replies very seriously, but Jason knows that Bruce is laughing at him. Dammit!

So Red Hood zeta-beams to Paris (he doesn’t even pack a bag, it’s going to take like five minutes). Batman has sent him the address of the school the creator of the Ladyblog attends. It’ll be a good start to find the polka-dot kid.

Except that halfway to his goal, he has to stop on a rooftop because there’s a giant woman raging and fighting two really acrobatic people. One of them is the red polka-dot girl, the other is a black leather clad guy who can’t be much older than her.

“Batman, we’ve got a problem.” He coms.

“Red Hood?” and he can hear the worry in Bruce’s voice, and he feels even more shitty.

“The girl and her partner are fighting a 15 feet woman made of diamond. Half the Champs-Elysées are in rumbles. I really don’t think it’s a scam.”

And then he sees the Miraculous Cure, watches as the Champs-Elysées are restored, sees people coming back to life and understands. Jason feels sick. Because the girl in the video was a teenager and if everything she said is true then she’s been dealing with this whole shit for months and even as Robin he had Batman he could lean on.

As the two heroes jumps away, Jason races to catch up with them. Ladybug and Chat Noir are definitely teenagers and they look suspiciously at him, but he manages to convince them that he came from the JLA and can they please talk?

The Parisian heroes accept, but they were in the middle of something first so they can meet up latter at the Eiffel Tower. And then they swing away without waiting for an answer. Red Hood doesn’t chase them down. He tells everything he just saw to Batman and asks for someone to comb through the Ladyblog and give him some damn intel before it’s time to meet the kids.

Half an hour later, Jason is in jeans and playing the clueless tourist, asking what the hell is going on here.

It’s early evening when Ladybug and Chat Noir arrived at the Eiffel Tower in one long graceful jump. Jason is a bit jealous because he definitely had to use his grapping-hook to get there, but those kids can do it without assistance.

Chat Noir is super exited to meet him now that they have time to talk. Ladybug is more cautious, but she looks just as relieved.

“Are you here alone? Why did it take so long before someone came?” She asks softly.

Looking at the kids, Jason doesn’t want to tell them that no one took them seriously. They look so relieved to see him here. Obviously, the girl’s rant was powered by fear and helplessness, not any hate against the JLA. Now that he’s facing her, he thinks she looks really small in her red polka-dot suit.

Dammit Bruce! This weird serial adopting nonsense wasn’t supposed to be inheritable!

He owes them the truth, though. His com is transmitting live so he knows that B is listening at least, but he doesn’t really care for protocols right now.

“The JLA receive a lot of requests for assistance every day, so we have civilian workers that sort out which requests are genuine, which ones would benefit from a JLA intervention and which ones are scam.”

“And our requests were classified as scam because there’s no proof left after I cast the Cure.” She looks tired and resigned, like she had already come to this conclusion months ago. Red Hood can’t fault her that. The preliminary report he received from Red Robin showed him how smart she was. She’s also not one to suffer delusions and they’ve been fighting for months. It would have jaded anyone.

“But we send a new request for assistance every month,” Chat said, quiet and solemn beside his teammate. “It should have raised red flags that the same person sends the same request every month.”

“It should. We’ll look into it.”

“Can you control your negative emotion?” Ladybug eventually asks. “Because we need help. Chat and I, we’re not detectives. We don’t know where to look or how to cross patterns or whatever else we would need to do in order to find Hawkmoth. We don’t have a helpful mentor to show us the way. But we’re also been fighting for months and Paris is ours. We’ll accept help gladly, but only from people who know how to control their negative emotions. We don’t want to face an akumatised hero, we have enough trouble with some civilians.”

And shit, but Jason hadn’t thought of that. From the curses in his ears, he isn’t the only one. Fuck magic, it makes everything more complicated.

“Maybe they could lend assistance from a distance?” Chat proposes, looking at Ladybug. “We could send them our data so they can look for Hawkmoth from a safe distance while we continue to take care of Akuma. And once we have a name or a location, we’ll finally put at end to it.”

“That’s a good idea, Chaton.” She raises an eyebrow in Red Hood’s direction.

“Works for me,” he shrugs. There’s a sharp ‘Red Hood’ in his ear, but Jason ignores it. The kids are right and Jason, at least, doesn’t want to know what an akumatised Red Hood could do. “Here.” He throws an extra com at Ladybug who catches it effortlessly. “I’ll be on my way, but we’re staying in contact. And send any data you can to the JLA so we can start working on your case.”

“Thank you.”

Ladybug smiles softly, but Chat waves exuberantly before Red Hood throws his grapping-hook to the nearest building. He hopes they can catch Hawkmoth quickly, and that they’ll both continue to hold on and that they’ll both be there to see their city free. They deserve it.

And I’m going to stop there, before the plot bunnies can try to make me write more and lose interest.

The idea came when the sentence ‘This weird serial adopting nonsense wasn’t supposed to be inheritable!’ popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. And then I wanted to address Chat’s attitude and Marinette’s crush, because while I like Adrien salt and Lukanette is my OTP, I like Adrinette too and Chat’s attitude, no matter what, is not okay.

I didn’t write it with a pairing in mind, though, so feel free to think of it as pre-Adrinette, Lukanette, Daminette or any other pairing you want. Or keep it gen if that’s your thing too.

#miraculous ladybug #Maribat #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Yume Writes #ml x dc #ml au

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lynelovespopculture · 4 years ago

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THE CHILLING ADVENTURES OF ZELDA CHAPTER 19-SALEM FAUSTUS MUST RESCUE HIS DAUGHTER FROM WHERE NO WITCH SHOULD GO.

Zelda didn’t believe what she just heard. She walked across the room so she could read the text herself. She read it twice and still shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Our Cordelia just can’t be on her way to Salem. She just can’t be!”

Jake, who wasn’t exactly in the loop, gasped. “You can’t mean that Cordelia is on her way to Salem, that Salem, THE Salem?!”

“Apparently so,” Ambrose answered him.

Faustus, meanwhile, checked his watch and walked quickly to the front hall where everyone followed him.

“Where are you going, Uncle Faustus,” Ambrose called out.

“It’s 8:30 now and I know that the bus should have left at 5:30. Despite that 3-hour head start, I going to see if I can catch it before they reach Salem.”

“I’m going with you.” Zelda reached for her coat but Faustus stopped her.

“No, dearest.” Faustus shook his head. “I understand completely why you want to come along, but if worse comes to worst and I have to go all the way to Salem, I won’t be able to explain your presence. It’s my class on that trip. The only reason I’m not with them right now is that I told them I was sick.” Zelda looked upset and Faustus sought to comfort her with his next statement. “Our girl is very clever. She might get away and come home on her own so someone needs to be here.”

Zelda was still upset but managed to put on a brave face. “Faustus, your trip will go by faster if you don’t have to stop much. I could pack you some sandwiches if you want.”

“Excellent idea, my love.”

10 minutes later, the car was packed and Faustus was ready to go. Jake and Ambrose hung back to allow Zelda and Faustus a private goodbye.

“Do you have everything?” Zelda asked.

“I think so.”

“Call me as soon as you find Cordelia. I don’t care where you are.” Faustus nodded and Zelda sighed and threw her arms around her husband. “And for Hecate’s sake, Faustus,” Zelda whispered into his neck. “Please, please be careful. I simply wouldn’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to you or Cordelia.”

“Shhh, hush my love, the only thing that going to happen is mine and Cordelia’s safe return. Any other outcome is unacceptable.” He then kissed her goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Zelda returned “Bring home our girl.”

Faustus nodded, kissed her again before he got into the car, and drove off. Even before Faustus’s car drove out of sight, Zelda could feel Ambrose’s arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Z, if anyone up to this task, it’s uncle Faustus.”

“Absolutely,” Jake agreed. “They’ll be back before you know it.”

The 7-hour bus trip flew by. From the very back, Cordelia watched the other students filed off the bus. Cordelia took a deep breath and got up and tried to get off the bus. However, Mrs. Robinson blocked her.

“Not yet, Cordelia. They’re not ready for you.”

“Ready for me?”

Nina didn’t respond but when Cordelia was allowed to leave the bus, Nina was right by her side. Cordelia noticed that the rest of the class had formed a half-circle. Then, a tall, scary man dressed in a black robe walked out of the shadows and stopped right in front of Cordelia. “Is this the child, then?”

Nina nodded. “It is, your honor.”

Your honor? Cordelia looked from 1 adult to the other.

The man in black pointed at Cordelia. “Has she been charged yet?”

“No, your honor. We thought it best to get her down here and then charge her.”

Charge me? The horror finally dawned on Cordelia. This was no field trip, this was a witch trial. HER witch trial!

Meanwhile, the man in black continued. “What is the child’s name?”

“Cordelia Spellman.” Nina answered.

The man in black arched his eyebrow. “Really? SPELLman? And the name Cordelia hasn’t been in fashion for at least an century. It’s like she’s not even trying to hide it.” For the 1st time, the man in black spoke to Cordelia directly. “So, what do you say, girl? Do you deny it? Do you deny that you’re a witch?”

Cordelia stood tall. “Of course, I deny it. Everyone knows that witches don’t really exist.”

“Is that right, girlie? Let see if you say that after you see this!” He grabbed Cordelia roughly by the arm and guided her between 2 old houses.

“Hey!”

The man in black let go of Cordelia after giving her a little shove. Cordelia looked up and was in shock. There they were; all in a row, bound and gagged, all standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. Her entire family, Faustus, Zelda, Jake, LJ, Prudence, Ambrose, Sabrina, Hilda, and even Dr. C.

Without a 2nd thought, Cordelia turned to the man in black. “Okay, you got me. I am a witch. But I’m the only 1. My family didn’t even know, they’re completely innocent. Do whatever you want to me but let them go!”

“Bull!” The man in black declared. “Everyone knows that magic goes through the bloodline so if you're a witch, so is your family.”

“But I’m adopted!” Cordelia stressed. It was the 1st thing she could think of.

“Then why do you look exactly like your mother? You’re lying!” The man in black turned to the men behind the barrels. “Hang them!” He ordered.

“NO!” Cordelia screamed but the man in black held her as the barrels were kicked and the Spellmans were hanged.

“And as for you,” The man in black stared hatefully down at Cordelia. “You’re a witch by your own admission. Your punishment will be to burn at the stake.”

Cordelia didn’t, couldn’t say anything. Her entire family was just murdered for just being born witches. She choked back tears as she was tied to the stake.

“Daughter, would you like to do the honors?” The man in black asked.

“I would love to.”

Suddenly, Cordelia was face to face with Sara, who had a torch in her hand.

“I knew you were trouble since the 1st day I saw you!”

Sara only smiled. “Goodbye, witch. Thanks for the friends.” Sara lit the pyre and Cordelia watched the orange flames crack, flickering, and then it jumped? When the fire jumped for the 2nd time, Cordelia felt her body jump with it.

The next thing Cordelia knew, her eyes opened and she realized she was still on the bus. As the other students were laughing and talking, some about the recent speedbump they just passed, Cordelia sat up. Her hand on her chest, willing her heartbeat to go back to normal. Cordelia looked up at the sound of loud laughter. She grew sad when she realized it was Sara and the triplets. Cordelia frowned; she was so happy and excited to get the text this morning. She practically ran all the way to the schoolyard. When she discovered that they were already on the bus, Cordelia thought nothing of going on the bus. Yet the more she talked, the more Cordelia saw the triplets’ faces grew blanker and blanker. They had no idea what she was talking about! Cordelia’s heart sank yet she knew she wasn’t crazy. She knew that the text came from Erin’s phone. Cordelia suspected that Sara may have stolen the phone and sent the message herself to make Cordelia look foolish. Cordelia turned to get off the bus when Mrs. Robinson stopped her. Mrs. Robinson then showed her the paper and the name on it. Cordelia knew it was faked, (it must be!) There was no one there to save her. Cordelia’s heart fell into her shoes when she realized the bus to Salem was moving and she was still on it. With no other choice, Cordelia sat in the very back, which on a deluxe bus was like a padded bench with seat belts, and tried to control her breathing, just like she was trying to do now.

“Are you okay, Cordelia?” asked a classmate who sat nearby.

“I’m fine, Anne.” Cordelia lied. She was anything but fine! It was actual life and death if someone discovered her secret. As she sat up and looked around the bus, she envied the happy carefree smiles of her peers. Half of Cordelia just wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole. The other half of her just wanted to stand up and scream. This entire journey was billed as an educational trip but Cordelia couldn’t understand what, if anything, could be ‘educational’ about a town infamous for killing witches, her kind, her people. For Cordelia, this was just as cruel as taking a person of the Jewish faith to tour a WW II death camp. Cordelia sighed as she quickly wiped a tear away. She had already decided that the only way to survive this weekend was to stay down and keep quiet. Hoping to distract herself, Cordelia took out her phone.

“Aw, man!” Cordelia groaned as she read the new message. Cordelia decided earlier not to involve her family. After all, nothing good could come from bringing even more witches to Salem. Despite this, by around 8:30, in a fit of panic, Cordelia texted her father. The instant she hit send, she regretted it. The only thing she could do now was hoping against hope that Faustus didn’t get the message. Now she knew; not only did her father get the message, but he also sent a reply.

Dear Cody,

Stay clam. I’m coming to get you as soon as can. I love you. Dad.

With a defeated sigh, Cordelia let her phone drop into her lap and rested her forehead against the window. She was already stressed as hades and they weren’t even there yet! When Cordelia noticed the sun was beaming down on her, she reached for the golden crescent moon at her neck. “Father sun, mother moon, make time fly. Make this weekend end soon.” She whispered.

Faustus didn’t understand. It was only 2 days ago that Cordelia came home crying at the mere thought of going to Salem, convinced she would die. Now she was on a bus going there? It just didn’t make any sense. Faustus knew how important Cordelia’s friends were to her but still, he just couldn’t imagine his strong-willed daughter being so desperate to win her friends’ favor that she would be talked into taking the trip. Further proof of this was Cordelia’s own text message. The message wasn’t a confessional of a kid who got carried away. It was more like a cry for help. It actually contained the phase S.O.S, which had to be a plea for help. Even if Cordelia had gone to Salem willingly, it shouldn’t have been allowed by her teachers. Even though he had always planned to claim illness and pull out at the last second, as the 7th-grade teacher, Faustus was preparing for this trip all week. Therefore, he knew that every student needed a permission slip signed by a parent or guardian to even go on the trip. Now he knew that Zelda would never sign anything that would put their daughter anywhere near Salem and Hecate knows he didn’t sign a permission slip so Cordelia should have never been able to leave with the others. She should have been kicked off that bus the moment a teacher saw her. Every time Faustus thought of his sweet, youngest child alone in that witch-hating town make Faustus pressed his foot hard on the gas pedal. He was driving on the highway, just about to enter yet another town, when something odd happened. The bottom left side of the car bounced and then dragged. The sudden movement startled Faustus so he took his eyes off the road for just a second to see what was wrong in the back. When he turned his attention back to the road, he saw a cat lying in the middle of the laneway. On instinct, Faustus turned to miss the cat and went up onto a curb. As soon as Faustus collected himself, he got out of the car. He slammed the door, angry at what he saw. The rear left tire had a big nail in it and was still leaking air. The front tire was busted up from hitting the curb.

“Damn!” Faustus swore. So much for catching up to the bus before it got to Salem. Unless…Faustus knelt by the rear tire, raised his hand, and was about to say a spell when-

“Hi there, fellow. Do ya need some help?”

Faustus looked up and saw a kind, elderly man with a tow truck right behind him. Faustus sighed, now he felt stuck. Yes, it would undoubtedly be faster to fix the car by magic, Faustus couldn’t use magic in front of a witness nor could he deny that he was in trouble. So he greeted the man, who was named Gus and it turned out that Gus owned an auto shop in the city. So Gus hooked Faustus’s car up to his truck and they drove to the shop. When they got there, Gus left Faustus in the lobby. 10 minutes later, Gus returned, frowning.

“I’m sorry, friend, but I just found a note from my partner and he had to go tend to an emergency so I’m the only 1 to look after the shop. Plus, I was just in the back, and I swear this never happens, but we seem to out of tires. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck here for a while.”

Faustus sighed. He knew he should have used magic! “Thank you for the ride into town.” He told Gus. Faustus began to walk around the waiting room as Gus went back to work. In the seating area, among the magazines, Faustus found a town map.

“Hey, do you have a bathroom here?”

“Yeah. 1st door on the left.” Gus answered.

“Thank you.” Faustus was pleased to discover that it was a private, single-person bathroom. After locking the door, Faustus unfolded the map and studied it until he found that there was A Walmart supercenter in this town. Astral projecting to a place you never been before was always risky, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He laid the map on the floor and then he laid beside the map. Faustus closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It worked; for when Faustus opened his eyes again, he was right in front of the store. After thanking Hecate, Faustus entered the store. It was big and crowded so Faustus knew he had to hurry. Faustus made quick work of finding the auto department and selecting the correct tires. The trouble, as Faustus soon learned, was upfront. There was only 1 check-out station open and a very long lineup. Faustus stood in line, carrying a tire in each hand when he saw the 1st of those hateful birds in the window.

Oh no! Come on, come on, come on! Faustus silently willed the line to get a move on already.

Soon after, came another bird and another. By the time there were 4, Faustus realized his nose was bleeding. When 6 birds were all in a row, Faustus’s entire body was shaking and his head felt ready to explode. He could hold on no more. Sighing, Faustus dropped the tires and closed his eyes, only to return to his body on the bathroom floor. Faustus sat up and hit the titles with his palms. “Damn it!” He had to find another way to fix his car and get to his daughter and soon!

After all the stories about how all the mortals tortured and killed them, Cordelia wondered if any of the Salem witches ever simply died from boredom. If so, Cordelia may have found their descendent. It was late afternoon and the class was listening to a lecture in an old town hall. The only thing that Cordelia found remotely interesting about this guy was he has been talking for over 2 hours and had still to get a single fact right. If this so ‘witch expect’ attended the academy, Cordelia felt certain that he would easily fail 1st-year witch history. Cordelia sighed and looked out the window, only to see a graveyard, because, of course, there was a graveyard right there! Maybe it was because she was a real witch, but ever since she had arrived in Salem, Cordelia has been experienced odd things. Like wherever she went, Cordelia heard noises, like moaning and weeping, possibly from the murdered witches. Even though the Salem roads were paved, Cordelia could swear she heard splashing, as if she was walking on blood. Cordelia shook her head and turned the other way. Cordelia managed to lock eyes with Erin, and they smiled at each other. The bus had arrived in Salem at 12:30. So the first thing the class did was have lunch at a restaurant called The Witch’s Brew. (Salem got absolutely zero points for subtly.) Cordelia had a bit of luck when she was seated next to Erin at lunch. She was finally got to explain about the text, how the girls wanted to talk to her before leaving for Salem and how it came from Erin’s phone. Erin then explained that she lost her phone 3 days ago. In fact, the last thing Erin did before she left the house this morning was to ask her mom to keep looking for it. Therefore, Erin couldn’t have written that text. Still, the 2 girls got to talking during the meal and at least, for now, there was peace between Cordelia and 1 of her friends. The lecture was finally over and the class started to file out. Cordelia sneaked away to the bathroom. She did this several times today, whenever she felt the need to regroup.

You’re doing great, girl. Cordelia thought to herself. All you have to do now is get through supper, another walking tour, and then it’s off to the motel for the night. Then just 3 more days, Cordelia sighed.

When Cordelia returned to the front, she noticed that everyone from before had gone and only 2 maids were talking to each other.

“I don’t know, Dru. We come in here every day and we listen to that blockhead, every single day, telling lie after lie. But it seems especially wrong to let him tell all this to schoolchildren. It just seems so irresponsible to me.”

Drusilla, the other maid, sighed. “Shelley, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, he’s just another mortal spinning fairy tales for mortal children. It has nothing to with us.”

“Us?” Cordelia jumped into the conversation without thinking. “You’re not mortals either? Are you witches?”

The 2 maids were visually shocked. “Mortal? Who said mortal?” Drusilla asked. “I said more tell, yeah, more tell. That darn lecturer is always leaving without telling us.”

While Drusilla was trying, very unsuccessfully, to talk herself out of trouble, Shelley knocked over the bucket of water she was mopping with. “Oh, for Hades’s sake!”

Cordelia smiled. “For Hade’s sake? That sounds like a witch phase to me. Don’t worry, I’m a witch too.”

“Oh, great. Another little girl who thinks she’s a real witch.” Although Drusilla muttered this to herself, Cordelia still overheard her.

The Spellman witch raised her hand and the spilled water was back in the bucket. “Now do you believe me?” Cordelia smiled.

“You are a witch.” Shelley said with awe and then pointed to the door. “What about the class you came in with? Are they witches?”

“No.” Cordelia shook her head. “They’re all mortals, I’m the only one.”

Drusilla raised an eyebrow. “You’re here all alone? What are you? 11?”

“12, actually,” Cordelia answered. “Yes, I’m alone, but it’s a long and confusing story and I don’t know how to explain it. What about you 2? Do you live in Salem as well as working here?”

“Dru lives in town, but you wouldn’t find me here after dark.”

Drusilla rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Shelley. I figured I’m safer here than anywhere else, kind of how like a farmer will never search for a fox in a henhouse.”

Cord smiled, she wasn’t sure whether that statement was madness or brilliant.

“Don’t worry, kid.” Drusilla continued. “Your day trip must be almost over. You’ll be home before you know it.”

“Oh, it’s not a day trip. The class will be here until Monday.”

“You’re staying overnight? Here? At a motel? But what about the rebels?” Shelley seemed frightened.

“The rebels?” Cordelia asked. “Who or what are the rebels?”

“They’re a secret group of mortals who believe that witches never left Salem. It’s said that to this day, they go around at night, leaving fresh blood on the motel door of witches.”

“Don’t scare her with that old wives’ tales! I’ve lived here for almost ten years and that never happened to me.”

“That’s because you don’t use motels.”

Drusilla dismissed Shelley with a shake of her head and took something out of her pocket. “Pay no mind to Shelley, but I would feel better if you took this good luck charm.”

“I just can’t take it. What if I pay for it?” Cordelia suggested. “$5 bucks?”

They agreed and as they exchanged items, Drusilla caught sight of Cordelia’s wrist. “Oh my gosh! Have you always had that?”

“What? My birthmark? Yes, I’ve always it.”

Drusilla rubbed it a bit with her thumb. “It’s not coming off. If this is what I think it is, well, honey, you are not a witch, you are THE witch.”

“What does that mean?”

Before anyone could speak further, Mrs. Applegate, another teacher from Greendale middle school, appeared at the door. “Here you are, Cordelia. Come along, it’s time for dinner and it’s starting to rain.”

It was still raining when Faustus watched the sunset from 1 of the auto shop’s windows then he sighed and turned away. Faustus simply couldn’t believe he had wasted most of the day here. This partnership with the van had yet to show up and Gus was busy with a steady stream of customers. Despite being in the same place most of the day, Faustus tried desperately to make contact with his daughter with a series of calls, texts, and video messages, all to no avail. It wasn’t surprising. After all, the class must have arrived in Salem hours ago and the 1st rule of any field trip was to turn off any and all cell phones. As for Zelda, Faustus sighed again. Faustus was too ashamed to call Zelda. Yes, he promised to call his wife as soon as he found Cordelia, but not only had he yet to find their daughter, he had no new news of her whatsoever. Maybe because it was later, Faustus thought he should try to reach Cordelia again. He took a seat in the waiting room and once again, pulled out his phone.

“Hey, I know that girl,” said the guy next to and tapped where Cordelia was on the family picture that was Faustus’s screen.

Faustus turned to the stranger. “You do?”

“Sure. I’m a traveling salesman and today I had a business lunch in Salem. Anyway, I was just leaving the restaurant when I saw a bus with a pile of kids coming off it. I remember that girl because she was the last 1 off the bus and she didn’t seem at all happy to be there.”

Faustus nodded as he listening to the other man. Knowing that his daughter was in fact in Salem and had been since lunch lit a fire under Faustus. He stood up and walked with purpose.

“What are you doing?” asked the salesman.

“What I should have done hours ago,” Faustus murmured to himself. He borrowed a phone book from behind the front desk, looked up the listing for a local cab company, and called. He then took a taxi to Walmart and picked out the 2 correct tires in person. 20 minutes after he returned to the auto shop, a man came to see him.

“Mr. Spellman, your new tires are on and ready to go.”

“Great!”

“But I’d like to have a look at your muffler.”

“My muffler?” Aside from the tires, Faustus knew that his car was fine. This guy was just trying to play him for a sucker and Faustus simply didn’t have time for this.

Still, he just said, “Sure, do whatever you have to.”

The man went back into the garage. Faustus found a discreet place to hide, where he could see his car. He waited until someone touched his car before he whispered a spell in Latin. Then the car roared to life, seemly by itself.

Faustus then ran up to the man. “Wow, you seem to have the golden touch. My car is purring like a kitten now. I gave Gus my address so you can bill me. Thank you.” Faustus got into his car and drove off while the man was still trying to figure out what just happened.

Before long, Faustus was back on the highway. One advantage of driving at night was there was barely any traffic. However, as the hours passed and Faustus got closer to Salem, the rain came down harder and harder. So hard that the paved road, that Faustus could barely see, seemed like silver. Still, Faustus kept on driving because of heaven or high water, he was determined to find his daughter…tonight! The clock on the dash read 10:37 when he finally passed the Welcome to Salem sign. Now, all he had to do was find the motel with a bus in front of it. He found it on the 3rd block he went down. Faustus parked his car and ran out of the rain and out the roof of the motel. He ran into some of his students that were lingering outside. They seemed surprised to see him but unfortunately, none of them knew where Cordelia was. Faustus was making his way to the motel’s office. He rounded the corner and ran into Nina, who smiled at him.

“Fausty! You made it! I knew you would.”

“Mrs. Robinson, please tell me, where is my daughter?”

“Oh, she’s rooming with a couple of other girls.” Nina said casually but then she leaned in and whispered “As for me, I’m in room 13, alone and ready whenever you are.”

As Nina walked away, Faustus rolled his eyes and beyond him, he heard a door open, girlish laughter, then a firm closing of the door, and finally a splash, as if falling in a puddle. Faustus turned and indeed, it was a mud puddle. It took a second for the girl to moan and turn over.

“Cordelia?”

Her eyes widened. “Dad?” Cordelia got up and went up to her father. With a quivering lip, Cordelia let go of the tears that she had kept inside all day as she threw her arm around Faustus’s waist.

“I’m sorry, Dad” She nodded. “I really am. I got scared and panicked. I regretted that text message the moment I sent it. I never meant for you or any of the family to come here.”

Faustus gently put his hand under Cordelia’s chin and forced his daughter to look up at him. “Never mind that text.” Faustus gently said. “What are you doing here?”

Cordelia shook her head, furiously. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I meant it when I told Jake I would be back in 10 minutes. I only got on the bus because the triplets were already on it when I reached the schoolyard. It was a total bust because Erin didn’t even send me the message and they just kicked me out because, for the 1st time in my life, I lied to the triplets about believing in witches.”

“Cordy, why didn’t you get off the bus?”

“I tried, but Mrs. Robinson wouldn’t let me. I begged and begged. I even considered teleporting myself home but there were too many witnesses. Then she showed me my permission slip.”

Faustus was confused. “What do you mean? Permission slips are useless until they’re signed.”

“But it was signed, Dad,” Cordelia told him. “It had your signature.”

Mine? Faustus thought, dumbstruck. Then, Faustus thought about how everyone was rightly surprised to see him, except for Nina. Faustus took off his coat and wrapped it around Cordelia. “You’re wet, muddy and you must be cold. Go and wait for me in the office. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

As soon as Cordelia was out of sight, Faustus sighed, turned, and muttered to himself, “Nina Robinson, for your own sake, I better be wrong about this!”

Faustus walked up and knocked on the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

As soon as he opened the door, Faustus noticed that there were candles everywhere in the darkened room, even on the 2nd bed. On the 1st bed, lay Nina, on her stomach, posed as if she was in a playboy magazine. All she wore was a black leather corset, a matching thong, and heels. “I knew you would come. All I had to do is get you away from the school and your wife.”

Furious, Faustus entered the room and slammed the switch that turned on the big light.

“Where are they?” He demanded.

“Where is what?” Asked Nina.

“The permission slips. You have them with you I know it!” Faustus returned, quite fiercely.

Nina said nothing so Faustus looked around and saw a teacher’s leather briefcase leaning against the TV.

“Ah!” Faustus went to the case and searched through it. 1 brief look in the mirror told Faustus that Nina had crawled to the end of the bed and was now was dangerously close to him. “Madam, I advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”

Oh?” said Nina in a flirty manner. “And why is that?”

“Because anything of yours that touches me, you are not getting back!”

Nina frowned. “You’re in a mood.”

Faustus turned to face her. “Yes, I am. Especially since I just found these.” There was a piece of paper in each hand. “Here is a permission slip for Cordelia Spellman and it does indeed bear my signature but I don’t remember signing this but this might explain it.” Faustus raised his other hand. “This is a lined paper, with nothing but my name written on it, over and over again, front and back. Yet the strange thing is at the top of the front paper looks like your handwriting, but the bottom of the back page looks like my handwriting. You forged my name on this permission slip, didn’t you?”

Nina wore her smile proudly. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re here.”

“I came here to bring Cordelia home!” Faustus fumed. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with you! And where do you get your nerve? Kidnapping my daughter and bringing her here, of all places!”

“Kidnapping? Oh, don’t be so overdramatic. It’s only a field trip.”

“To a town infamous for its injustice and murder! It wasn’t your place. It’s up to me and Zelda to decide what our daughter is exposed to!”

“Did you really have to bring your wife up again?” Nina asked, looking bored. “If you ask me, I think that Zelda is too old for you.”

“Not that’s any of your business, but Zelda and I are the same age and you want to know what I think? I think you’re not worthy enough to speak Zelda’s name!”

“Oh, come on, next you’ll tell me that you’re not attracted to me.”

“I’m not and another thing- “Faustus’s voice was drowned out by the ringing of a phone. Faustus automatically looked to the bedside table, where Nina’s phone lay charging. However, Faustus soon realized that the ringing was closer to him. In fact, the phone was in the briefcase. Nina leaped off the bed, trying to get the phone first but because he was closer, Faustus got it.

The pink, sparkly girlish phone looked oddly familiar. “Hello?” Faustus answered. “Mrs. Warner?” Faustus listened for a moment. “Oh, I see. May I ask how long has Erin been looking for this phone? Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll bring it by soon.” He ended the call and then turned to Nina. “Oh, this is low, even for you.”

Nina gave an innocent shrug. “What?”

“You know perfectly well ‘what’” Faustus snapped. “This cell phone belongs to Erin Warner. According to her mother, Erin had been looking everywhere for this for the past 3 days. This makes it impossible for Erin to send that message to Cordelia about wanting to make up at 5 this morning. You did it, didn’t you? You knew the girls were fighting and you knew that Cordelia and I were not coming on this trip. You took advantage of my daughter’s desire to make up with her friends, and once you got her on that damn bus, you kept her there, knowing full well I would come to collect my daughter!”

“But Faustus, I did it for us.”

“There is no us, you lunatic!” Faustus spat. “And I’m getting so tired of rejecting you.”

Nina smiled. “Then don’t.” She tried to put her around Faustus’s neck but he fought her off.

“Enough!” Faustus growled. “I have had it with you! I’ve tried to reason with you, to avoid you, and to explain to you how important my family is to me. All that’s left is the ugly truth so here it is. I will NEVER sleep with you! You could be the last woman, scratch that, the last person on earth, and I would still never sleep with you. In fact, you sickened me because you remind me of who I used to be and who I swore I would never become again. The fact that you would steal a child’s phone makes you a disgrace to the entire teaching profession!” Faustus then ripped up the permission slip and let the pieces fall to the floor. “Consider this me taking back custody of my daughter.” Faustus turned and left without another word, slamming the door behind him. Faustus didn’t want Cordelia to see him angry so he took a moment on the motel’s tiny porch. That’s where he first saw the thunder and lighting in addition to the rain.

The Spellman house had been filling with family all day. As word got around about Faustus, Cordelia, and Salem, people came running. Prudence was first. She was worried when Zelda, who was never late, missed the morning assembly at the academy. Prudence was even more worried when she learned when Zelda wouldn’t be leaving the house today. Hilda learned everything when she called the mortuary. By the time late afternoon rolled around, all the family knew and Ambrose, Jake, Prudence, Hilda, Sabrina, and LJ were all at the house. After dinner, they were joined by Dr. C and the other 2 weird sisters. At first, the plan was simple, just keep Zelda busy and distracted until Faustus called then everything would calm down. But the later it got, the more worried everyone got. By 11, they had run out of topics of conversation and games to play. They all felt helpless as they just sat in the drawing-room and Zelda walked0 up and down the hallway for the million time. Zelda couldn’t sit down; the only reason she ate at all was due to Hilda’s pleading. Zelda refused to go 10 feet without a phone so she stayed on the main floor all day. Zelda had no idea what to do with her hands since her last cigarette was long gone. Zelda sighed when she checked her watch. It was getting so late. If there was still no word from either Faustus or Cordelia by dawn, Zelda had already decided to go to Salem herself but she hadn’t told the others because she didn’t want anyone to talk her out of it. Zelda’s head whipped around as the phone began to ring. She ran to the phone and picked it up.

“Hello, hello?” Zelda tensed as the family gathered around her.

“Zelda? Dearest?”

Zelda’s grip tightened on the phone and closed her eyes and cherishing her husband’s voice. “Faustus! Finally, how are you? Where are you? Have you found Cordelia yet?”

“I’m fine, my dearest,” Faustus assured Zelda. “It’s been an insanely long day but I’m finally in Salem and as for Cordelia” The line went silent for a second and then… “Hi, Mom!”

Zelda bit her lip to keep her tears of joy and relief in check. “Oh, Cordelia, my sweet, precious girl. How are you? Did anyone hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine, Mom. I’ve been with the class all day and no one suspected me at all, I promise. And I definitely feel safer now that Dad’s here with me. Mom, is LJ there?”

“Yes, she’s right here.” Zelda passed the phone to her stepdaughter.

“Hello? Cordy? What’s wrong?”

“LJ, I’m so sorry.”

LJ was confused. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“Because tonight was the night you were supposed to bring your boyfriend to dinner to meet the family.”

LJ was touched. “The fact that you remember that after all, you had to deal with today proves that you are the sweetest little sister in the whole wide world. Peter can wait. What’s important now is to get you and Dad home safe and sound.”

The sisters chatted for a few minutes and then LJ gave the phone back to Zelda and after a few moments, Cordelia passed the phone back to Faustus.

“So, now that you’re located Cordelia, are you in your home now?” Zelda asked.

“Oh, not exactly dearest. I know that it was my idea to just grab Cordelia and then drive all through the night back to Greendale, but there’s a problem here. You see, there’s a raging storm here and it’s not safe to be on the road. I barely made it here.”

“Can’t you teleport?” Zelda suggested. “Surely you must know the way home.”

“I do, but people saw Cordy and I come in this motel room so we just can’t up and disappear.”

Zelda frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you and Cordelia spending the whole night in Salem.”

“Neither do I,” Faustus agreed, “but it could be a lot worse. You see, Mrs. Applegate was kind enough to give up her room so she will have to share with Mrs. Robinson.” Was it Zelda’s imagination or was there laughter in her husband’s voice? “Anyway,” Faustus continued, “this is a single room so Cordy and I will have to share the bed tonight. The storm is sure to be over by morning and then Cordy and I will be on our way. I can assure you, dearest, I won’t be in this town a moment more than I need to.”

Zelda sighed; she still didn’t like it, but she understood. “Please be careful, Faustus, and give Cordy a goodnight kiss for me. I love you.”

“We’ll be home before you know it. I love you too.”

Although she had taken her wet clothes off when she first got to the room, Cordelia was still cold after the phone call home, so she treated herself to a hot bath. Since she had no PJs, she put the white plush motel robe back on and double knotted it so she could wear it as a nightdress. Faustus then took a quick shower to wash off his road trip. When he stepped back into the main room, he found Cordelia standing before the window, the rain and the moon casting her face in a ghastly glow.

“You know; you were born on a night very much like this.”

Cordelia looked up at him. “Don’t you hear them, Dad?”

“Hear what?”

Cordelia frowned. “The moans pleads and cries of our people. Thousands and thousands of them, crying out in pain and for justice. I’ve been hearing them all day, ever since I got off the bus.”

Faustus heard nothing and thought it must be a divine child thing. “Come on honey, we have a long drive home tomorrow. We better get some sleep.”

As they made themselves comfortable in bed, Faustus noticed something he hadn’t before. “Cordy, why are shivering? Didn’t that bath warm you up?”

“Oh, am I shivering?” His daughter asked. “I’ve been doing it all day. I guess I don’t even notice it anymore.”

Faustus could help smiling to himself. As a 12-year-old witch who had in the company of mortals, doing a tour of Salem all day, Cordelia had every right to be afraid but she would never admit it. She was so strong, so proud, so like her mother. “You’re very brave.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. If I was so brave, I would have never caved and texted you that message.”

“Oh, will you stop! I’m glad you sent that message. I’m glad that I was able to track you down. Besides, the text doesn’t take away from the fact that you just spent an entire day learning about 1 of the darkest chapter in our people’s history.”

“Yep, that’s me. Cordelia the brave…and the friendless.” She muttered.

Faustus felt his face grow hot. This whole thing started because Cordelia wanted to make right with her friends. She must have been heartbroken to learn that her friends didn’t text her this morning. Damn you, Nina! Faustus thought and then said out loud, “Don’t worry Cordy. You’ll make up with the Warners soon, I know it.”

Faustus turned off the lamp and despite being quiet, neither Cordelia nor Faustus slept all night. Maybe they were overtired or overstressed by being 2 witches in Salem. It was dawn when exhaustion finally took Cordelia and she rolled over into her father’s arms. Faustus curled his long-limbed body around her protectively before kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry baby, Daddy’s got you.” He whispered before sleep claimed him too.

1 hour later, a scream woke them up. They jumped out of bed and open the door to see the class, teachers and all of the hotel staff were in front of them. Faustus looked at the door. “Is that paint? Or blood?”

“The rebels” Cordelia whispered, suddenly remembering what the maids told her. She looked around and froze. Her room wasn’t the only marked. There was also blood on the door of the room that the triplets shared with Sara.

#chilling adventures of sabrina #caoz #chapter 19 #fanfic #spellwood #zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #hilda spellman #sabrina spellman #ambrose spellman #prudence blackwood #cordelia spellman #lj spellman #jake spellman #please comment #please reblog

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tessiete · 4 years ago

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Hi, Tess! 😊 For the fic ask: 1, 3, 4 & 14 for "Rolling Hitch ". Thank you!

HIIIII! Did you change your url recently? Or am I just imagining things? YOU DID! AH!!!! I owe you so many messages. I’m sorry - IRL is just...look, tbh I should not have decided that NOW is the time I’ll start writing an epic. But we did it! Anyway, you’re wonderful, you’re lovely, I think you’re great!! And thank you for sending theeeeeeeeeeese! <3 I hadn’t looked at Rolling Hitch in ages!

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

To be honest, I don’t remember a specific moment that inspired this fic, although certainly @kyber-erso was involved. She’s a criminal enabler. But the form of it is vaguely meant to emulate a circle - a knot, if you will - from Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon and back. They’re tied together. Their growth is linked. Their failures are linked. There are parts of each that define the other, and sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s leading who. I wanted both parts to contain some wisdom, and at the same time, I wanted there to be no real definitive point, or aim. They’re both just struggling to come to an understanding of life, together.

Everything in this is bound up in knots. The knotted tangles of Qui-Gon’s hair, the chains that knotted Obi-Wan into a temporary captivity, knots of anxiety, those little knots of love that make your heart ache, knotty philosophy, knotted up paths. Nothing is meant to be straightforward, but Obi-Wan always seeks clarity, and Qui-Gon does his best to guide him. So Obi-Wan is often the one untangling the issues, even though ultimately, at the end of both scenes, Qui-Gon comes in to tangle it up again. And the knots aren’t supposed to be bad things. Knots are good. They keep the ship secure. They keep us tied to each other, and give us a problem to solve. Smooth rope isn’t always useful.

And so the structure of it all is meant to sort of loop over and back and come around and lead on to the next. In theory.

I mean, it’s also meant to be a whump fic because I adore hair care, and platonic bathing. PLATONIC BATHING. Give it to me. That total, peaceful intimacy.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Softly, slowly, he careens into Qui-Gon, resting his head against the juncture of Qui-Gon’s neck and clavicle. His breath is hot against his skin, and delicate, hardly discernible from the steam billowing around them, and Qui-Gon resists the urge to keep him there, pressed close to his heart like a rare bloom. But a Jedi does not seek to possess.

I just kinda think that this is an accurate insight into Qui-Gon in a way that I’m not always so deft at. That he feels things, and thinks things, and resists, and Obi-Wan never knows the struggle. That Qui-Gon *would* keep Obi-Wan if he could. But he can’t. And that is a private weakness. And then we threw in some botany stuff, because I basically always write Qui-Gon as the wind and the trees, and Obi-Wan as the ocean. So. Have a flower.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

“What’s the difference,” he asks, “Between what is right, and what is wise?” “Faith.”

I like this because to me it means something without being quite accurate, and I think that’s very much a part of Qui-Gon as a person, and a teacher, and something that would drive Obi-Wan crazy because there’s no definitive answer. This isn’t even the moral of the fic. It’s just the best answer Qui-Gon’s come up with, so he gives it to Obi-Wan. It’s a lesson that is still tangled up, and even I only feel like I partially understand what he means by it. But that’s the point. It shouldn’t feel like a settled thing. Just the suggestion of one.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Um, I really wanted to explore the intimacy of Master/Padawan duos in a platonic way. They’re closer than parents and their children, they’re closer than craftsmen and apprentices. The nature of the work makes them dependent on each other for their lives, but also incredibly vulnerable. Education is a vulnerable thing. Parenting is a vulnerable thing. Growing up is vulnerable. Failure is vulnerable. Humility is vulnerable. And so I think, maybe what I wanted was for the readers to see the intimacy of vulnerability? And maybe think about how close people can be without sex between them.

Not to say that sex isn’t great - but it’s a different thing.

#fic meta #my fic #asked and answered #YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON YOU

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thesethingsofours · 4 years ago

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Parents are the Worst.

I recently began listening to Nice White Parents, a new podcast hosted by self-confessed nice white parent, Channa Joffe-Walt. It’s produced by the people in and around Serial, This American Life, S-Town and The New York Times. If you are familiar with those titles, you’ll know what to expect – in-depth, considered analysis of a heretofore, under-exposed social issue, executed with an East Coast progressive liberal stride; a pleasingly audible, irreverent gait and the swagger of emotional intelligence and self-aware humility. Through research, interviews and attaching herself to the Brooklyn School of International Studies for several years, Joffe-Walt tells the story of the New York Public school system and its apparent failure to meaningfully integrate itself since Brown v Board of Education made racial segregation illegal over 65 years ago.

In episode 2, Joffe-Walt tracks down and interviews some nice white parents from around the time the school opened in 1963. These people had written letters encouraging the school board to erect the school building closer to their own neighbourhood (and consequently further away from the darker-skinned families it was more likely to serve). They expressively emphasised their wishes to send their kids there and virtuously aid the process of integration, which they believed to be morally imperative.

But apparently, none of these letter writers subsequently sent their kids to that school. It remained, as anticipated, a predominantly non-white school. Laid alongside the tense machinations of the contemporary school’s invasion by a large new cohort of white parents and their issue, Joffe-Walt’s hypothesis is that white parents have always held liberal aims, and the clout to impose them, but do so with little consideration for their non-white counterparts or any real commitment to seeing through the incumbent practicalities. From the outset, this natural conclusion is persistently hinted at, not least from the podcast’s deliberately provocative title. Perhaps, on an individual level, this hypothesis contains some truth.

However, as the story extends, the blame gains weight and the theory mutates into a generalised accusation. Responsibility for the mediocre state of New York’s (and by implication, America’s) public schools is explicitly laid at the pale feet of white parents. It's an exposition of what is often described as “White Guilt” and its corresponding effort at contrition (i.e. the guilt felt from the inherited sin of one’s ancestors’ oppression of non-white people, primarily through slavery). While White Guilt might have its conceptual uses for a few people to come to terms with idea of race (although even there I am sceptical), its value as a wider social narrative is deeply unconvincing, and potentially damaging. Nice White Parents does a good job showing why.

In the podcast, anecdotal evidence is drastically extrapolated to justify White Guilt. Unless backed up by unequivocal data, it is inherently flawed to base so much on interviews with a handful of people in their 80s about a letter they wrote in the 60s, and (in episode 3) a now middle-aged woman about her perception of school when she was 13. Equally so is to use the example of a single New York school to imply that nice white parents are universally responsible for all the failings of American public schooling. A quick empirical comparison with countries unburdened by America’s racial psychosis would almost certainly reveal this argument to be fundamentally false. I hazard to suggest that Joffe-Walt set out, either consciously or subconsciously, to prove the theory of Nice White Parents, and has therefore fallen into the trap of verification bias.

Of course, the truth is likely to be far simpler – green, cheddar, dead presidents and moolah (which middle-aged white people in American disproportionately possess). Better schools arrive from broad, deep and perpetual community investment – from good, affordable housing and well-paying jobs to well-paid teachers and decent facilities. That means higher taxes on the wealthy and better provincial management. If a completely non-white school district received $50 billion to invest in their community with educational improvement as its ultimate goal (that or the abolition of private schools), I suspect the idea of nice white parents would quickly evaporate.

It is plainly a damaging distraction to focus on the role of supposed-predisposed-racism of well-meaning, middle-class people, who simply want the best possible education for their children. Instead, the message for the “hereby accused” should be to use their numerical majority and voting power to advocate for systems that would reduce inequality, regardless of race. In this respect, it strikes me that wealth is a sacrosanct subject in America, something that one can never apologise for having too much of. Quite the opposite – the culture is built on celebrating those who hoard capital. Is it possible that Americans are taught never to apologise for having money, so those who see something wrong develop other issues, such as race, for which they can atone?

More deeply, the podcast reveals how the White Guilt narrative is in ideological conflict with the very wrong it is supposedly trying to right. Taken to its conclusion, it inevitably reinforces the idea that white people are innately superior, and race is the primary determining factor for success in American life. In the context of the podcast, it is applied to suggest that New York public schools are destined to fail their students unless white kids and their parents get involved. It is gloriously ironic that condemning the influence of white parents on public schools serves to reinforce the supposed inferiority of non-white participants in the education system… because of their lack of whiteness. At the end of episode 3, Jaffe-Walt lays this out:

Nice white parents shape public schools even in our absence, because public schools are maniacally loyal to white families even when that loyalty is rarely returned back to the public schools. Just the very idea of us, the threat of our displeasure, warps the whole system. So “separate” is still not equal because the power sits with white parents no matter where we are in the system. I think the only way you equalise schools is by recognising this fact and trying wherever possible to suppress the power of white parents. Since no one is forcing us to give up power we white parents are going to have to do it voluntarily, which, yeah how's that going to happen? That's next time on Nice White Parents…

(Consider replacing every mention of “white” in this excerpt with “affluent”. Would that not feel infinitely more true?)

In fairness, the honourable, “anti-racist” intention is clear – in order to defeat “white supremacy” white people need to accept their inherited and systemic superiority and eliminate it. Sadly, any idea centred around race – whether malicious or well-intentioned – is bound to collapse under even the slightest pressure. To be truly anti-racist is to recognise that race itself doesn’t exist (other than as an abstract concept that, having infected people’s perceptions after four centuries of concerted, localised propaganda, must be eradicated). Race has no basis in science or nature; it cannot be quantified in any reasonable, measurable way. Simply, it is a lie; invented to excuse the exploitation of others for the purposes of wealth-generation. To base one’s actions on it in any way is to take a leap of faith into a void with no landing. Race is a malignant, empty God; belief in which is destined to lead to malignant, empty behaviour. “Racism” and “Anti-Racism” (as it is currently understood) are therefore both empty, malignant religions, practiced in service of a non-existent deity.

Notably, there are still two episodes to go (released August 13th and 20th). Either might serve to recover some balance. But by episode 3, the stage is not only set for this conclusion to be drawn, but the 1st Grade nativity is in its final scene and the wise men are long since gone.

All that said, if you let the incessant racialization of all things drift past you rather than choking on it, as plain entertainment – storytelling rather than journalism – it’s still an engaging listen; well-constructed and convincingly told. Furthermore, on a non-racial level (if you can somehow listen beyond it), the podcast does have some value, since it reminds me of something I have long half-joked about – that parents (of all stripes) are the worst.

Aside from the obvious, complex Freudian reasons, on a socio-political level, when a choice arises between a laudable, achievable change and putting one’s own children at a perceived disadvantage in order to effect it, a parent will choose its child’s advantage almost every time. No matter their colour, few parents will sacrifice their own child’s prospects – even minutely – to advance the hypothetical children of someone else, or society more widely. Parents are company directors whose primary obligation is to their miniature, genetically-derivative shareholders – they’ll only vote for large-scale change if it is net-profitable or government-imposed.

And of course, parents should pay their kids the maximum dividend. Who else will? A parent is legally and morally obliged to do the best for the young life they are charged with defending. And therein lies the joke. Parents are the worst only because they are ubiquitous. They created you, me and everyone else. We all had them, and most people end up being one. It is therefore less of a criticism than an inevitable, evolutionary truth – just one we should probably be more honest and upfront about. Unknowingly, underneath (and in some ways, because of) its misguided, exhausting racial handwringing, Nice White Parents just about makes this point.

Listen to Nice White Parents here or wherever you get your podcasts.

#nice white parents #podcast #parenting #education #race relations #critical thinking #review #podcast review #npr #this american life #new york times #capitalism

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gleeaquadragons · 5 years ago

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Meet my new special pet, Tinker Bell, a dwarf high iridophore golden albino aka “sunburst” unsexed juvenile/sub adult axolotl! My 3 years old daughter (Lucy) asked me if that’s an angel? Awh!! She literally makes my heart melt...🤟🏻💛

A little story about my Tinker Bell:

*with the customer’s permission for me to use her photos for this story.*

The customer (not mine) wasn’t being informed about a dwarf at the time of purchase and she has zero knowledge of the dwarf axolotls. She paid a full price (could have gotten two for that price) and a “big” seller lied to her about the age. Tinker Bell being a 3 month old and at 4.5” is impossible for a dwarf quoted by an experienced dwarf owner.

So with that being said, Tinker Bell looks pretty older based on the length of thick gill frills which indicates that Tinker Bell is absolutely older than 3 months. If I had to guess then possibly at least 8 months or older. Tinker Bell’s photos have been examined by several other reputable breeders and they all agreed that it’s an older dwarf axolotl. Not a “baby” repeatedly quoted by a “big” seller to the customer that it’s a baby (3 months old) axolotl.

The customer asked for a non dwarf high iridophore golden albino axolotl and it was a private sale because Tinker Bell wasn’t being listed on the website at the time. Go figures. The customer knew something was a bit off and thought it was the angles of that photo. Again, she has no knowledge of the dwarfs and only own axolotls for a year. She was being declined for a full refund and ignored until at the very last minute that she finally got her partial refund back, but should have gotten a full price no matter what due to seller’s unethical breeding practices.

Yet, the customer was absolutely humble and very professional the whole time she does really handle this whole situation very impressive for someone who isn’t a breeder. The big breeder lacks in the customer service. Unprofessional and unethical breeding practices. Misleading and lying as well. The way a big breeder gave a horrible advice about dwarfs is bad enough already. Not only that, but a big breeder chooses not to educate the customer about a dwarf is making me very sad to know what kind of a big breeder is. As someone from the axolotl beware group made a very good point and stated that,

“You can just rehome the axolotl on Craigslist in your area if you’re not able to care for the baby, or donate to it to a pet store- what the fuck? She’s basically telling you to drop a special needs animal on the side of the road. Resolution or not, that’s horrible advice for a dwarf.”

It truly shows her true colors.

I reached out to the customer and offered to pay a full original price for Tinker Bell simply because I felt sorry for the customer and I did it in order for her not to lose a little faith in the humanity. The customer could have charged me a full or half price plus she paid it out of her own pocket for the express shipping to me. Absolute nice and she obviously cares for my Tinker Bell with no questions!

- As someone quoted that giving something up is so hard but it speaks volumes that the customer were able to recognize that Tinker Bell (dwarf axolotl) would be able to thrive best somewhere else. To me? This customer handled it way better than a “big” seller did at this point. But then after seeing the customer’s bad experience/situation with the big seller and I definitely look at her differently now.

If you are interested in learning more about this customer and the big breeder’s story then join in the Facebook group, Axolotl Buyer & Seller Beware (1K+ members)

Feel free to send me a private message if you want to know the name of a big breeder or read everything in the beware group. This “big” breeder also tried to ship an axolotl to an illegal state. There are a couple of separate posts from two different customers. Spread the awareness and you will save a lot of the future axolotl owners from the heartbreaking or losing their hard working money to this “big” seller.

I am so honored that this person to entrusted me with Tinker Bell and choose me as a stable good home for Tinker Bell. She will be rotten spoiled by me and my family. Definitely will have a long good life with us while she can!

Tinker Bell basically is the main reason why my team and I got so inspired to create a new group for the Facebook, “Little Axolotl, Big World (Oddballs, Minis & Dwarfs” as the goal is to have fun, and learn about their special needs. Get a better community together. To better education and understand the care of these wonderful babies. Have a dwarf, mini or oddball of your own? Or just love axolotls? Feel free to join us!!

***(Never breeding the dwarf axolotls. I don’t breed dwarfs and it would be a cherished pet only. It would need to be either kept with similar sized axolotls or in its own tank. Dwarf axolotls are a genetic anomaly and more of people breeding them to get cute, tiny axolotls. Please don’t do this. More deformities and so many health issues. Causes more stress on an already compromised system and shorter lives. Not all dwarfs are short lived as long as they are being treated with the right care. If you do have dwarfs then please don’t attempt to breed them and try to love them for the rest of their lives just like with my pet dwarf, Tinker Bell.)***

#unethical #unethical breeding practices #disreputable breeder #bad husbandry #axolotlblr #axolotl buyer & seller beware #beware #bad seller #reseller #money hungry #ambystoma mexicanum #aquarium #dwarf axolotl #dwarf #mini #oddball #spreadtheawareness #always do your homework first!

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navk · 5 years ago

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An Open Letter to the Reader

Hello, lovely human. It’s me, Naveed - also known via the internet as Nav K. Actually, there’s a lot of people in the real world that still refer to me as Nav K. I always find that oddly amusing, it’s something that just stuck with people. I never thought it would, but it did, and that wasn’t even ever the intention.

This Tumblr blog was born in 2010, about either a month before or into my university career. That would make it about 9 years old now. Almost a decade. There’s so much here that documents these past 9 years. A lot of personal struggle, world events, politics, rants, debates, sadness, joy, 5am existential crises.

The purpose of this blog was just to write and have a place to put them. I never had any real intentions other than that. But over time, it grew to be so much more than that. It grew to be a part of a larger community of people, worldwide, that somehow became convinced to strap in and come along for the journey. And that - that by far, is incredible.

I have no idea how my readership and fpollowercount almost reached 8000 or so. I never really kept track, and why would I? I had no idea what I was doing. It was organic. It was fun. It wasn’t work. It was just a kid in university writing his heart out. Things got gritty. Things got tough. I wrote about love. I wrote about sadness. I wrote about family, friends, and all the things that were happening in the world that I felt so passionately about.

I always wanted to change the world. But somewhere along the way, I thought to myself that maybe the world as a whole is too big for me to change all at once. Maybe it would be a gradual thing. Maybe, just maybe, I could change one person’s life. Maybe I could impact them in such a way that it would inspire them to do the same for someone else, and so on and so forth.

But I had no real idea as to how I would ever achieve that. And I never thought to myself that writing would be it. But maybe I’ve been along that very path all along without knowing it.

Disclaimer, I say maybe a lot. Maybe and perhaps and absolutely. Those are my words. They are so powerful to me, and I love them.

So people often ask me what inspires me to write. It’s such a simple but complicated question with so many variations of answers. But truly, the most honest answer I can ever give you is that I write because it saved my life. I write because it helped me live another day, helped me see through things I otherwise thought I couldn’t. It helped me survive through the mess of this world, and in a large part, shaped the greater part of who I am today.

One of my personal goals have always been to achieve the best version of myself possible. Writing has enabled me to be introspective enough and vulnerable enough to identify what I need to one day get there. And I’m still working at it. I know I’ll never achieve it, but the best I can do is come close.

When I started this blog to share my writing, I was nobody. Actually, I’m still nobody. I never considered myself a writer. I still cringe at the thought of calling myself that. Why? Because I simply don’t think I’ve earned it. I’ve just told myself throughout my life that I’m just a guy who writes. But doesn’t that make you a writer? I don’t know. Maybe it does, maybe not.

I chose to share my writing as a leap of faith. It was my belief all along that I was just sending it off into the void, never to really achieve anything from it at all. Like a vessel launched into the stars, drifting cautiously towards some distant abyss. But what began happening over the years astonished me. When I think back to it now, it still leaves me in disbelief.

What happened?

You happened. You, who maybe happens to be reading this. You, who supported me. You, who shared my writing. You, who shared with me how in awe you were by my words. You, who messaged me privately and shared with me the emotions it evoked in you. You, who provided me with feedback. You, who gave me constructive criticism. You, who cheered me on silently. You, who sent me love and kindness and support and prayers. You, who were so kind to purchase my work and encourage me to produce more.

You, who saw something in me that I failed to see in myself all those years. I was so grateful to you then, but I never quite allowed myself to accept your kindness. To truly believe in it. It was so hard for me. It’s still hard for me. But I’m learning to be gentler with myself. It’s that introspection that my writing has afforded me that has allowed me to realize how amazing this platform has been for me and despite its waning numbers and inevitable maturity, I am still so, so grateful.

Sharing my work has never been an easy feat. In all honesty, I hardly ever shared everything I wrote. But then I started sharing less, and less, and less, to the point where I didn’t quite feel okay with sharing anymore.

I actually attributed a lot of reasons to this, such as the bastardization of writing, the rise of the “instapoet” trend, the “hashtag” poetry, the tweet poems, all that and what not. But if I’m truly being honest, I stopped sharing because I didn’t feel good about the writing, and that was more of a reflection of how I felt about myself for some time. I wrote less, and then I wrote nothing at all. I’d be happy to get a meaningful sentence out on some days, but even those days were rare.

I couldn’t write. I was stuck. I didn’t seek help. I left it. I left it alone in hopes that it would be there for me. When you’ve written for as long as I have, I would tell myself, it must be like driving - it’s muscle memory. It just comes back.

But it doesn’t just come back. Nothing is ever that simple. It takes work and effort. And the courage to be vulnerable - with myself - which I had lost somewhere along the way.

What became of Nav K, the writer, the accidental brand of sorts, was somewhat of a miracle in my own eyes. The fact that this platform has shown so much love and support is, to me, rare and incredible, and perhaps in some ways undeserved, but that’s just me being hard on myself. But you showed your love by elevating my work and having it seen, read, shared, loved by the count of “notes” - ranging from a few hundred to over 160,000. I mean, shit. Thank you.

What’s the point in all this vivid reflection, you ask?

Well, it so happens that I’m falling (hopefully gracefully) into the tail end of my twenties. Soon, I’ll be 30. And sometime before I fade to dust (okay, I’m being dramatic, but maybe I’m not), I want to be able to really be able to leave something behind in this world that I’m proud of.

That was the purpose of publishing my own work. It all began with Cheap Therapy in May 2012. I don’t love that book. In fact, I kind of hate it. But so many of you loved it for it’s raw honesty. I’ve had messages from people from all over the planet telling me how much it spoke their truth, that it voiced things that they felt but could not say.

There was this one instance that someone messaged me saying that they had been reading it in one of their university classes at some point, just casually on their own. Their professor caught a glimpse and asked to see it, read a page or two, and told her that it was actually really good!

DUDE. I was barely 21 when I wrote that. I was still, technically, an adolescent (in terms of psychological development). But I never let that get to my head. I studied English literature in my undergrad in hopes to become an English teacher (I did, but the market for teachers sucks so much!) and I tried so hard to maintain a sense of honesty and compassion and not even let a literary education get to my head. I just wanted to be real. Always.

But I never quite felt accomplished. So I self published again. And again. And again. And … yeah, you get what I mean. In total, I self-published about 14 books. Yes, 14. And you’ll never really know or find them all anywhere because there’s a bunch under my name and another bunch under pseudonyms and heteronyms. Yes, I did that. Why? Because I wanted to write so badly that I didn’t just want to be a great writer, I wanted to be 5 great writers. Where am I on that counter? Probably still at 0, because I’m still far from great.

But then I received other messages too, about how my work has inspired others to write. How it inspired you. How it saved you. How it allowed you to survive. How it allowed you to see yourself out of a dark place. How it allowed you to feel. How it gave you hope. How it made you appreciate the world. How it made you want to love again. How it made you see things differently.

Not too long ago, I received a random private message on social media from someone (who I obviously won’t name) who told me that they were so inspired by my writing that they decided to pursue it as a career, and that they had just completed their master’s degree in journalism.

I was in awe, and even that is an understatement. I mean, I did that?! I inspired you? HOW?

So in a way, I suppose I did change the world, or at least small parts of it. I impacted you as individuals, and I pray that you strive to do the same for someone else. That you seek to enrich and inspire and keep doing good. And to keep striving to be a better version of yourself. And no matter what, never stop creating.

And that’s what made me realize that I should perhaps take my own advice.

From my self-perceived worst (Cheap Therapy, 2012) to my best (By Bodies of Water, 2014), I feel as though I still have so much to give to you and this world. I feel like I’ve just begun even though it so often feels otherwise. But that’s the struggle, that’s the process, and that in itself is beautiful in its own way. By Bodies of Water was 5 years ago, and today, it just doesn’t hold up in my eyes as the best representation of who I am and the work that I am capable of producing (most of which I have not shared anywhere, period).

I’ve never really been good at self-promoting or talking about myself. I’m the worst at it and cringe every time I try. But I realize now, more than ever, that I need your support. That I can’t create work without you. Because this work is for you as much as it is for me.

In the past, whomever I have utilized an illustrator or designer, I have always tried to pay them for their contribution. Admittedly, this has been incredibly difficult for me because I never really put my work out with the intention of making lots of money from it. In fact, using a platform like Amazon, which I currently still use for self-publishing, takes a significant cut from any sales proceeds because it’s hosted and managed by such an established platform. So, I actually have never been able to have a budget for my books and any work I commission from others by way of illustration or design comes out of my own pocket with little to no hopes of ever really making it back in a sensible way. Yeah, I know it sounds awful, like why would anyone do that, but I did it for the love of the craft. In fact, putting work out with illustrations has resulted in net losses every time, and that’s further driven by the fact that I don’t promote my work.

Ideally, I would love nothing more than for a publishing deal that remedies these aches and pains fo self-publishing. That’s the dream. That’s the ultimate mark for me, but I have no idea if that is ever going to be a reality. Some dreams stay dreams. But I really can’t let that stand in the way of creating my own mark on this world.

If you still have love for me or my craft (well, hopefully both, it’s kind of a package deal, ya know?), then I ask for your support. I ask for you to help share my work, to help contribute to sharing the love and the joy you feel and have felt.

My publicly posted work can all be found under a single hashtag and contains all 9 years of works posted. Find them here: https://navk.tumblr.com/tagged/navk

If you would like to support my work and help me produce more and pay other artists that I employ and help cover related costs, please consider some of the options below. I would love for you to have something of mine in return, and there is no better way that I can personally think of than to offer you my actual work!

If you would like to contribute by purchasing my work, you can find physical/digital versions here: https://www.naveedk.com/books

You don’t have to spend anything if you don’t want to. I still believe that somethings in life should be free. I have PDF copies of some works available online for free, or you can contribute whatever amount you choose. Some have a nominal fee attached, some are up to you. Anything helps. You can find them here: https://payhip.com/navk

Pay what you want digital package (500 pages of work /5 books and 1 sample), here: https://www.naveedk.com/downloads

Personalized Signed copies of By Bodies of Water, here: https://www.naveedk.com/signed/water

If you are feeling generous and would like to simply donate, you can do so here: https://www.paypal.me/navk

As always I am so eternally grateful. Thank you for joining me on this journey. I hope you choose to stay for the ride, because we’re just getting started.

Find me on social media

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/_navk/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/_navk

Web: https://www.naveedk.com

Love,

- Nav K

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allsystemsarenotgo · 4 years ago

Text

A friend and I were talking one day, and she shared this with me.

She was much like me, raised with a quarter between the knees, terrified of the things we were taught to avoid and trying to live reasonably noble lives. She wasn't allowed Birth Control for religious reasons (pro-life) as well as to prevent enablism. Her family was much more religious than mile, though I still went to church during my Sophomore, Junior, and Senior years of high school.

She married a guy 10 years older than herself, who was a long-time routine customer of her family's business. They married right after she graduated high school, long before she applied to higher education.

She is a nurse now. She has 3 kids, works long hours at a hospital, and her husband is a successful farmer as he always has been. She struggled at times, but she made it through.

She knows life would have been easier without the first child, but she was innocent and naiive and I think she realizes that she jumped in the deep end of the pool before learning how to swim.

I did the same thing.

All through high school I pledged to abstinence until marriage. I hated everything to do with sex. The topic, the drama, the action, the result. I wanted nothing to do with it.

But I also never dated through grade school at all. I never had a girlfriend. Plenty of crushes (M.S. above being one of them), but just as many denials. Because I didn't drink, smoke, do drugs, have FFA animals, or play athletics, I also wasn't a member of any social group. I was always the kid in the corner of the cafeteria scarfing food down in 5 minutes and sleeping the other 20, or asking to go to a teacher's classroom, where it was serene and quiet.

My freshman year of college, I even wrote an essay on abstinents for English class. That really didn't go over well in regards to having to read it out loud. There might as well have been fruit flying at me.

My dorm was set up such that we had 3 private bedrooms that shared a living space and bathroom. One of the roommates always had girls over, and he never tried to be quiet (or if he did, he failed...badly).

So those two things were my indoctrination to college life. Getting judged and leered at for writing an abstinence essay, and having to listen to a roommate multiple times a week.

Towards the very end of my freshman year, a girl from high school messaged me. We started talking, and she admitted that she had always had a crush on me and was too shy to ever say anything.

Error #1: For no good reason whatsoever, I agreed to formulate a relationship with this female

So when I moved home from the dorms, I hung out with the lass a few times, but my parents were moving out of the country and closer to my school, so I could live at home. That meant that this would now be a 1.5-hour-each-way medium-distance relationship.

So every 4th or 6th weekend during the remainder of that summer and into the fall semester, I would drive up and spend a day with her. Sometimes, I would drive her out of the country and into the city to give her a glimpse of escape (it was very impoverished where we grew up).

Error #2: Doing whatever made her happy

I really enjoyed the time that we spent together. She got me a purity necklace for Christmas that year. She said she understood that my preference meant something to me.

But then, something changed. She would start dropping enuindos and jokes and send me photos that I didn't ask for.

Error #3: Not standing up for myself

She said that I meant something to her, and asked me if she meant something to me. At the time, I did not comprehend that as a trap...but I wanted to make her happy, so I said "yes".

The next thing I know, she is booking a hotel for us for Valentine's day. Wherein, I learned a thing or two or five or ten that I really wasn't interested in learning in the first place.

-Provides Clorox to help scrub the thoughts from your mind-

After that, she wanted me to come see her more and more often. But I was tied up with school and life.

Mind you, we usually had a phone call every night, or at least every other night. Same time, right before bed. Sometimes we would fall asleep on the phone with eachother.

Error #4: Accepting anything as fact

Well one night, I called her, and she answered...but it was noisy in the background, like she was driving. But she never talked while driving, and wouldn't answer the phone with family in the car.

She said she was in a friend's car and they were going to the beach for the night, which was completely reasonable for the time of year and her group of friends. She cut the conversation short saying they had arrive, so we bid our greeting. But she didn't hang up, and something told me that I shouldn't either. So I didn't.

"Who was that?"

"Don't mind him. He was just calling to check on me. He's controlling like that."

"He sounds like a jerk"

"Enough about him. He won't do this."

-Provides more clorox-

And that's how I found out that her primal needs were more important than our "relationship".

Unfortunately, shortly after I broke up with her, I was sent a photo of her quite visibly pregnant. Fortunately, the timetable did not add up to Valentine's day (aside of the fact that it was physically/biologically 95% impossible).

That summer, I started a job at the student newspaper. Right off the bat, one of the graphic artists and I got along very well. We spent way too much time at work talking to eachother and goofing off, instead of working. Enough so that our boss took notice and things got tense for a bit with him. We still cranked out work no problem, but we were both too young to understand workplace policy and procedure when it comes to "dating but not dating", which is basically exactly what we were doing. We spent alot of time together. I would go to her dorm after class and we would watch movies and just goof off or do whatever. We enjoyed time together.

Error #1: So cliché. So, so cliché.

So Valentine's day rolls around, and she asks 'the question'.

So something in biology: There is a term called "Once an animal has the taste of blood, they will always hunt for it." Unfortunately, humans can sometimes be considered a sub-species of the animal kingdom.

Like the dumbass that I am, I accept to the terms and conditions.

And at the end of the night, she asks: "So are we officially dating now?"

"I...I guess?", I answered nervously.

Errors #2 to #457: Not escaping

And just like that, I was suckered into nearly 2.5 years of having a FWB while having to, very creatively at times, mask it as a legitimate relationship.

We enjoyed the time we spent together.

We enjoyed going places together.

My mum liked her, her parents liked me. (Dad was skeptical at best and thought I could do better)

The small issue: I struggled to communicate at times. I didn't know how to find my voice, so there were times that I would have to text her how I felt. Sometimes I would hide in a corner just so I could cry. (I later learned of my autism, and it all made sense and I learned how to resolve this)

The big issue: I was completely burned out on intimacy. After almost 2.5 years of emulating laboratory rabbits, I was done. My usefulness had expired.

The biggest issue: We were both suffering academically. We had no common interests at all anymore, and we had put eachother ahead of our own academics so much that we were both risking academic expulsion.

So we mutually agreed to break up.

She dropped out of university (and never went back or finished her schooling), and I changed majors twice before getting my Bachelor of Science.

My first relationship lasted from June 2009 to April 2010.

My second "relationship" lasted from February 2011 until May 2012 (Although we started spending time together in significant amounts starting August 2010)

I have not had a girlfriend since May 2012.

I had one friend in my senior year of college, who gave me some non-physical affection while also keeping me firmly locked in the friendzone. But quality time, by itself, only goes so far.

I have not had any physical affection since May 2012.

I have not spent quality time with a female since May 2013.

For most of that time, from May 2013 to August 2019, I really didn't mind it at all. I have been so tied up in working, hobbies, and life in general, that I completely ignored women.

But as my birthday loomed near in October 2019, it donned on me....I was on a crash course to being eternally lonely.

So I have tried online dating. I have gone on a few first dates, but no second dates.

Sometimes, I want to give up. The fight just doesn't seem worth the reward.

And honestly?

Sometimes I feel exactly like my friend's remarks at the top of this post. Sometimes I wish I would have been a little more rebellious, a little more care-free, a little more out-there.

But at the same time, ...

Sometimes I wish that neither relationship would have ever happened.

That I would have never learned the true definition of intimacy.

That I would have never done whatever it took to make the other person happy.

That I wouldn't have been such an easy push-over.

That I would have stuck to my initial pledge in life

That I would have spoke up more and defended myself.

All I am now, is damaged product.

I don't truly know how to love.

I don't truly know how to feel.

I don't truly know how to be myself.

I don't truly know how to be intimate.

I am human, I am male, so of course I have my moments. But I don't want that to be the reason for a relationship. I want it to be the least-important factor, or not a factor at all.

I want a relationship founded on trust, honesty, fortitude, common interests, personality, maybe even a little faith.

Not intimacy.

I just want to not be invisible, or to only have one attribute visible.

I want to be seen for all the other attributes.

I am not A-sexual. I still feel emotions and feelings. I just don't want to let them out of the locked box which contains them. Not without lots of context and preparedness.

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