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thewordswewrite · 2 years ago

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Lonely Is Our Lives

Chapter 4 - Poison

Pairing | Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

!!VERY IMPORTANT A/N!! | I want to preface this by saying I DO NOT condone Billy’s actions throughout the series. I DO NOT condone his violence or abuse, ESPECIALLY against Lucas but also including Max and the others. At the time season two came out in 2017, nearly FIVE years ago at the time I'm writing this, I was very angry and frustrated at the world, resentful of a younger sibling, and disconnected from the people around me so I kind of latched onto Billy as a character and what he represented. I absolutely DID NOT understand what his actions against Lucas truly meant and I DID NOT register it as the racism it was. Knowing what I know now I've decided to write a fic where Billy is able to let go of some of his anger and have someone there to check him and his actions in order to set him on a better path. I wrote this for me as a bit of a redemption fic for both of us.

Playlist | Link | Chapter Four: Songs 13-16

Story Summary | One fateful 1983 night you narrowly escape death on Steve Harrington’s property while Barbara Holland is presumed dead. Left jaded and angry, you carry on towards your senior year in a haze of sex, drugs, and alcohol just to get through the day. But, when Billy Hargrove moves to Hawkins, Indiana during the fall of 1984 things get worse before they get better.

Chapter Summary | You start feeling uneasy in your agreement with Billy and begin pulling away. At school, you make progress with Nancy but your good mood is quickly ruined. You try to avoid Billy but he shows up at your job and the two of you have an interesting night.

Story Warnings | explicit language, angst, abusive parents, smut 18+ minors DNI, heavy drug and alcohol usage, alcohol/drug abuse, implied physical abuse, injuries,

W/C | 4.2k

Taglist | @youcantbesirius @xronniexo @zzokks @marihoneywk @darlingjae @lem0ns7

A/N | Sorry I took a long time off guys I moved across the country for college and I have been trying to get into a routine so I haven't had much time to write. expect the final chapter a little later than next week but probably not months later lol we’ll see..... anyway thanks so much for sticking around though hope you enjoy!! -Smoe

Donations | Link

You suppressed a cough as you took a, longer than necessary, drag from the blunt before passing it to Billy. It’d been about two weeks since you started hooking up and in that time Billy took to lingering after sex. You’d been hesitant at first to let him stay; you had a strict no-cuddling policy in place for all your flings and didn’t intend on breaking that for Billy. Billy, though, began to stay in bed longer and longer before getting dressed and it had escalated to lying around and smoking, or drinking, or talking. Billy claimed it was because he was tired from ‘fucking you into the mattress for an hour’ but you guessed he might just like the peaceful company. He was always yelling around his sister and her right back so you could imagine the volume at which his house operated and couldn't say you blamed him.

As you laid against Billy’s shoulder, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, you felt a heavy weight settle in your stomach; the way he had begun to pull you to his side, the feel of your combined heat and the post-sex smell lingering in the air. The casual closeness of it all had you on edge. It needled in the back of your mind though that maybe he stayed for you, which scared you far more, suddenly wishing he’d just gone home.

“What’s up?” Billy suddenly broke the silence and your easy mood curdled. He didn’t sound concerned necessarily but the interest was there.

You feigned ignorance, scrunching your eyes closed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just seem…” He gestured with the arm you were laying on, jostling you. “Off.”

He was right of course but you didn’t want him to know that. An honest explanation would either wind up with him thinking you were crazy or worse: he’d believe you and think he owed you honesty as well. The thought had you caught between wanting him to tell you everything going on in his life and wishing you didn’t know his name.

You took the blunt back from him, hastily shoving it between your lips and with a shaky exhale rubbed your forehead. Half-truth it was. “It's just–there's an anniversary coming up and it’s got me wired.”

You felt him nod and his chest puffed up before he heaved out through his nose. “I get it,” He plucked the remainder of the weed from your fingertips and finished it off before speaking again. “When my mom left…” Oh God. “It’s fucked and I get fucked in the head about it.”

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. He thought you were talking about your mom. You played it safe and still he gave you sincerity. Your throat was closing up quick and you had to respond. “Yeah,” you rasped, words thick and sticky in your mouth. “It’s fucked.”

Your shoulder was throbbing, the ache spreading up to your head and you quickly broke out in a sweat. The desire to get away was overwhelming and you pulled yourself from Billy. His fingers stayed lazily attached to you, as if second nature, until you were physically too far away for him to reach you. The final brush of his fingers burned against your skin as you sat on the edge of the bed, your head resting in your hands. You glanced at him over your shoulder, desperate to find him uninterested in you, but were met with dark eyes instead. It unnerved you that he wasn't saying anything, just watching and waiting. Patient. This is too much.

“I need a shower.” You took a steadying breath and stood up. You didn’t give him time to respond as you left the room and locked the bathroom door behind you.

You shed your shirt and climbed into the steaming water. The shirt was just another thing he didn’t question you about after that first time; just another thing that Billy Hargrove did that made you want to cry. Things were getting too close, too real. Billy was just supposed to be a distraction and you supposed it worked because now he was all you could think about.

You felt hysterical, you thought you never talked about anything serious but now you realized you knew his favorite color was blue, deep like his Camaro, and that although he didn’t really listen to anything other than hard rock he didn’t really mind the records you put on when he came over. He often told you how he thought Max was ‘such an annoying shitbird,’ but you heard how as he talked his voice grew more fond than irritated. You knew things about him but you’d never divulged much to him before today and it changed things, you felt the tactile shift yet Billy seemed unfazed.

Your fingers rubbed over the grooved ridges of your scar and you shuddered. Memories of the Upside Down mixed with your unease towards Billy made you nauseous. You wracked your brain trying to think how you had let him this close in just two weeks? You stood in the water for longer than you knew, the hot water loosening the physical tension in your body but your mind still raced.

You only turned off the shower when you noticed you’d begun to shiver, the water having gone cold, and you grabbed your towel, wrapping it around yourself. In the silence of the house you listened closely to see if you could hear any indication of Billy’s presence and when you couldn’t you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, eyeing your bed from the hallway to see that it was empty. Relieved, you walked to your room and quickly got dressed.

As you laid in bed staring up at your ceiling, you thought the stress would dissipate but, once again, you were wrong. It wasn’t the type of anxiety that buzzed around you and had your leg shaking a mile a minute, it was the inescapable type that coated your insides, making it all too easy to lose yourself in between sparse breaths. You curled in on yourself, the feeling weighing you down like it was its own source of gravity, pulling you in. Your eyes watered but the tears refused to spill over so instead, you squeezed them tighter and pushed the feeling down.

You needed to sleep, you had school in the morning.

~ ~ ~

The day had been slow going. Your realization of just how entangled your life had become with Billy’s was all that more startling when that morning you noticed yourself unconsciously taking steps towards Billy’s car. Recently you rarely spent those early hours without him; you’d taken up the habit of sitting with Billy in his car and smoking until first bell but today you searched the parking lot for Steve. You spotted him leaned up against Jonathan Byers car, Nancy between the two boys and sneered. You felt a stab of betrayal towards Steve but you’d been so wrapped up with Billy, you didn’t even notice you only saw your best friend at lunch. Steve moved on from Nancy’s harsh words, and you hadn't even given yourself a chance to.

Throughout the day, your classes dragged and you could barely keep your eyes open because of your restlessness the night before. You confronted Steve about Nancy during lunch and he said he’d simply forgiven her.

“I just don’t understand how you can do that after what she said to us,” You seethed.

Steve sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I love Nancy. She’s important to me,” Steve raised his eyebrows accusingly, “And I don’t want to throw that away just because she’s not in love with me.”

Your eyes rolled so hard it nearly gave you a headache. “I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me.” You pushed your fries around your tray and looked back at Steve.

Steve’s voice dropped a bit and his eyes were sad. “Well you’ve been M.I.A. and I missed my friends.”

You’d apologized and promised to go to his basketball game that Friday and hang out afterward. You didn’t mean to spend all your time with Billy, in fact, you hadn’t even realized you were until the night before, when it hit you all at once and you panicked. Avoidance was something you specialized in, most of the people in your life though, did not.

“I’m sorry!“ A feminine voice assaulted you, pulling you out of your own head. You jumped and looked to see Nancy standing behind your locker door. You just stared blankly at her and continued to rifle through your locker so you could leave. “I was really drunk and I kept thinking about…” She trailed off.

“Steve forgave you, right?” You deadpanned, and slammed your locker closed.

Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed exactly like they always did when she was confused and the way the space between her eyebrows creased was so startlingly familiar it made you ache with longing. You never had many girl friends growing up and even those you did before, you could never say you held too close to your heart but something about Nancy hurt. She cared so deeply about all the people in her life and was quite literally willing to fight monsters for them, for you.

“He did.” She was twisting her fingers together anxiously. “But-”

“Then fine, I forgive you. Happy?” You moved to sidestep her but Nancy blocked your path. Her long skirt swished around her and her newly permed hair shone in the light. She seemed stronger and more confident than before you knew her as ‘Nance’ but the sadness you both shared echoed within her.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I know you’re trying to get better and what I said wasn’t fair.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she strained against the emotion within her.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced away, her pleading starting to get to you. “You were really shitty for that.”

Nancy smiled softly and with regret, “I was.”

She looked into your eyes the way only she could and there wasn’t anything you could do but relent. You heaved a sigh and grabbed her shoulder to pull her into a hug. Her hair smelled eerily similar to Steve’s and you smiled into her shoulder at the idea of Steve giving Nancy hair advice. The two of them were your weakness, they were closer to family than anything else and you missed that.

“You’re such a messy drunk, Wheeler.” Nancy laughed and squeezed you harder.

When you pulled back, you saw Jonathan beginning to walk up to the two of you. Steve and Nancy had only been broken up for maybe a week so the fondness you found in the Byers boy’s eyes caught you off guard. You released Nancy from your hold and smiled tightly at the boy. Nancy turned and when her eyes caught his they softened, your chest tightened. They shared a silent exchange before your friend finally remembered you were there.

Jonathan stepped forward until Nancy was resting her back against him. No possessive gestures or tight arm around her shoulder but anyone who looked at them could tell they were together. They fit well, all easy touches and quiet words.

“Are you going to Steve’s game on Friday?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah,” You nodded mildly confused. “Getting food after too.”

“Awesome, we’ll save you a spot,” Nancy smiled and leaned off of her boyfriend. She took his hand and began to lead him away. “See you later!”

You simply put a hand up in goodbye then finished getting your things from your locker.

You were getting ready to swing your backpack over your shoulder when you felt the sting of a slap land on your butt followed by a bruising grab.

“Lookin’ good babe!” You whipped around to see Tommy Hagan with his arm wrapped around Carol, one of his goonie friends following in his wake. Tommy shook his head apologetically and pointed to his friend who held his hands up in surrender, a dopey smile on his face.

You took a step towards him, ready to return the assault when someone shoved after you. You watched as Billy stalked up to the boy and shoved him full strength to the ground, quickly climbing on top of him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Billy had the boy’s hoodie twisted in his grip. “You think you can touch my girl like that?” There was spit flying from his mouth as he yelled at the boy below him.

You watched, almost in horror, at the display in front of you. Your arrangement wasn’t supposed to mean anything and now Billy had told anyone and everyone who was listening you were ‘his.’ You wanted nothing more than to go up to Billy and scream in his face that you didn’t belong to anyone, let alone him, but you couldn’t. You flinched at the noise of skin connecting to skin followed by a dull crack as Billy broke the nose of the boy who had grabbed you. You began to retreat backward, bumping into people as you went and made a B-line to your car.

You figured work would help you cool off before you had to face Billy again now that he’d fucked you over. You didn’t date. You weren’t dating. He had no right to act like that…jealous. Billy Hargrove had another thing coming if he thought you were ‘his.’

~ ~ ~

Work had been boring. Robin was only there for half your shift before she got off and you were stuck sitting in an empty record shop for three hours. Almost no one came in except for a few kids right after the middle school let out, but that’s when Robin was still there and you weren’t alone with your thoughts. You’d cooled off after a while but sitting there alone had riled you back up.

You were now sitting at the counter, having already reorganized the records and done stock, the dull thrum of Van Halen in the background and your head resting in your hands. You had more important things in your life to care about other than Billy Hargrove and his ego. There was something stirring in Hawkins and you had been as ignorant as everyone else, content to see nothing. Jonathan and Nancy had been doing recon work on the lab and met up with some guy named Murray to expose the experiments. Hell, even Steve kept busy taking care of the kids but you had been so wrapped up in Billy you hadn’t seen it.

Although it bothered you that you were out of the loop, you were also a little relieved you could forget about the Upside Down for a bit and pretend you were just a dumb high schooler. No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, it had been relaxing to lie around with Billy after you fucked, or at least until your shoulder throbbed and you were brought back to reality. You sighed heavily at the memory of Billy’s head between your thighs and dropped your head down onto the counter. In desperation, you looked behind you at the mounted clock and closed your eyes in relief, just fifteen more minutes.

You quickly began your closing routine: turning off neon signs, stopping the music playing over the speakers, and doing one final sweep of the shop before you were putting on your jacket and locking the door behind you. You did a quick sweep of the parking lot and froze when you saw that goddamn blue Camaro parked right next to your car. Your shoulders dropped and you dragged your feet as you walked to your driver’s side door. Billy didn’t even give you the chance to unlock the door before he stepped out of his car and leaned against the hood.

“Come with me,” He wasn’t even looking at you, more occupied with lighting his cigarette than bothering to spare you a glance.

“I’m tired, Billy.” You sluggishly rubbed your eye. “And I can’t just leave my car here.”

Billy stretched his neck, “C’mon, I’ll drive you back when we’re done.”

You shook your head incredulously. “I’m not fucking you tonight!”

Billy’s eyes drew together and he finally looked at you. “That’s not-,”

“You know you have some nerve showing up at my job and demanding sex, especially after that shit you pulled today!” As he stared at you, you noticed that his lip was split and your anger softened.

“Just come with me,” By all accounts to anyone else Billy would sound almost demanding but to you, he sounded…pathetic. “I’ll bring you back, I promise.”

You examined him carefully, searching his face for anything that would put you off and when you found nothing, finally conceded. “Fine.”

You walked around your car to Billy’s and sat in the passenger seat you’d unknowingly grown accustomed to. When Billy got in, you saw him reach for his favorite—because you knew these things now—cassette and quickly batted his hand away.

“If I’m coming with then I get to pick,” You challenged.

Billy paused but just put both hands on the wheel and began to back you out of the parking lot. As you flipped through his tapes, you watched Billy out the side of your eye but quickly looked away when suddenly he was doing the same. You felt your cheeks flush from being caught and pulled your full focus onto the music. As you read the bands, you noticed a funny pattern.

“Ya’ know you have basically the same music taste as my buddy Eddie,” You saw Billy’s hands grip the leather of the steering wheel a bit harder and smirked, deciding to push the subject. “Yeah, he’s into all this hard rock and metal stuff,” Nail in the coffin time. “He’s even got this wicked guitar on his wall, it’s like his prized possession.”

“You’ve seen his wall?” Billy tried to ask with as much nonchalance as possible but you knew him too well by now; he was pissed.

“Well, yeah,” You fully faced the window to hide your growing delight. “I get my fix from him…same as you.”

Suddenly, Billy swerves the car off the road and onto a dirt path leading into the woods, the leather of his seat sticking to your exposed legs the only thing keeping you from nearly flying out of your seat.

“Billy, what are you-” Before you could finish your sentence, Billy was throwing his cigarette out the window and his smokey lips were on yours. Frustrated, you pushed him off of you and pressed the heels of your hand into your eyes. “What is your problem?”

“What’s your problem? You’ve been acting insane,” He exploded. “One minute you’re screaming and riding my dick the next you’re leaving and telling me to fuck off!”

“That’s all this is! You’re not my boyfriend!” You yelled back. “We agreed, just sex, nothing else. I. Don’t. Date.”

Billy closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the headrest and you decided to make your point once and for all. Your hand reached over the center consul and found its place on Billy’s thigh, causing him to suck in a quick breath and look at you.

“We agreed, sex is fine,” You raised your eyebrows in question and waited until Billy slowly nodded. “But that’s it.” Billy nodded again and your fingers moved to his belt, slowly undoing it as you watched him get antsy. The button on his jeans looked ready to pop as you palmed him through the denim and you relished in the breathy sigh the boy before you let out at your touch.

You’d previously taken for granted the way you were able to make Billy fall apart, so you wanted to draw this out as long as possible. When you finally freed him from his underwear, he was all but panting at your small touches.

You took his length in your hand and did a few experimental pumps to gauge how needy he was and smiled when he held his breath, straining against the seat. You had only planned to jack him off but in a moment of impulsiveness, you dipped your head down and wrapped your lips around his cock. Unprepared, Billy’s hand instinctively gripped your hair, causing you to immediately release your suction and sit up.

“That’s not how this is going to work,” You narrowed your eyes and leaned as if to kiss him but stopped just a hair short of his lips. “You don’t touch me and you take what I give you, understand?” Billy’s eyes were locked on yours and he looked a bit taken aback but once again nodded. “Good boy.”

You moved back down to his lap and Billy grabbed the headrest behind him to steady himself as you once again locked your mouth around him. You took him in painfully slow and you could feel the tension in Billy’s thigh where you had your hand perched to support yourself. When you finally had him at the back of your throat, Billy let out a groan and bucked just enough to make your eyes water. You bobbed your head a little faster and heard Billy’s breath quicken.

You heard the tell-tale sounds of his impending orgasm and quickly let him go with a pop of your lips, making sure to stop just before he could reach his peak. He huffed out a breath and in apology, you licked up the underside of his cock until you reached the tip and planted a kiss.

Billy looked down at you helplessly. “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy after what you pulled today did you?” You began stroking his length again. “I want you to admit I don’t belong to you, then I’ll let you finish.”

For anyone else, this would have been a no-brainer deal but you knew Billy’s pride. His eyes hardened and he shook his head. “I’m not going to beg.”

You smirked. “We’ll see.”

It was a vicious cycle, watching him so close to coming undone and waiting for him to say the words only to have to stop yourself. You knew he was becoming aggravated but truly you didn’t know how long he could hold this up, so you let out a tentative moan to switch things up.

Almost immediately Billy’s mouth fell open and you could hear soft pleads but not the words you wanted from him. The moans continued to spill from your mouth and reverberate around the car and Billy became louder in his begging.

“P-please,” He choked and slapped a hand over his mouth.

You took him from your mouth and continued pumping. “You know what you have to say,” You smirked to yourself and replaced your hand for your mouth.

You could feel him about to cum and he finally began to speak. “You don't belong-”

The sound of knocking on the window and a light shining through into your eyes startled you both from your fog of pleasure. When you got up, you saw the unmistakable look of disappointment on Chief Hopper’s face. Billy’s face on the other hand was stark white, a cold sweat having broken across his forehead. He was trying to quickly shove himself back into his pants but his hands shook, making you impatient. You rolled your eyes and reached over his lap to roll down the window.

“What’s up, Hop?” You smiled gruffly, past the point of being embarrassed by this man who you fought side by side with.

“C’mon kid, you know you can’t do things like this,” He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Sorry Chief, you know how it is,” Your body felt heavy now that the adrenaline of the situation wore off and you yawned. You dared a glance at Billy who’d been uncharacteristically quiet and saw him staring at his lap.

“Look, son,” Hopper turned his flashlight to Billy. “You follow me out of here and I won’t call any parents tonight. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy’s voice was horse and he made no attempts to move.

“You’re lucky you’re here with this one,” Hopper nodded at you, “If it were anyone else tonight would’ve ended very differently, Hargrove.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hopper sent you a pointed look and you watched as he walked back to his cruiser. Billy sagged in relief as soon as the two of you heard the slam of Hopper’s door closing and stuttered out a shaky breath.

“What a mood killer,” You joked trying to ease the tension.

“That can’t happen again,” Billy declared in an even voice as he started the car.

You quirked a brow and shrugged, “It’s Hopper, he’s not gonna bag us for anything. Trust me we go way-”

Billy slammed his hand on the dash. “That can’t happen again.”

“Fine then,” You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry, about the blue balls though, California. Maybe next time.” You smiled sardonically at Billy’s seriousness undercut by his still bulging pants. “Now, take me back to my car.”

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twinferns · 4 years ago

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im very late but this is a rant ab tfatws ep 5

oopsies im a day late my bad

spoiler warning go watch it before you read

- i feel no sympathy for john walker, maybe if he didn't kill a man he wouldn't be in this situation

- i laughed out loud "you dont wanna do this" SIR YOURE SPEAKING TO THE WINTER SOLDIER AND THE FALCON THEYVE LITRERALLY FOUGHT THANOS TWICE anyways

- he just through bucky so hard his hand got electrocuted i- im very concerned and also mad

- HE JUST TRIED TO DECAPITATE SAM AFTER FEELING BAD AB DECAPITATING ANOTHER GUY WHAT

- walker saying that he's captain america enraged me. steve never once said anything like that. he always introduced himself as steve never as captain america - buck tossing the shield to sam yup yup

- sam rubbing the blood on the shield hurt

- this is not a drill torres is gonna be the next falcon

- are you kidding they're just giving him a slap on the wrist for murdering a man and causing an international crisis? i hate it here

- NO HOW DARE HE "they dont know what it takes to be captain america" THEN WHY DID STEVE NEVER MURDER SOMEONE IN COLD BLOOD YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A HUMAN

- random ass contessa? hello? i very much don't trust her

- great. karli is gonna blow something up probably

- IM SO PROUD OF BUCKY LOOK AT HIM plus ayo called him white wolf again this is good

- why do i feel bad for zemo?

- this part absolutely crushed me. first i wanna say that im super happy that marvel is fully leaning into the themes of racism. but isiah's story is horrible, and i fully understand why he's so cynical about sam being captain america. the fact that isiah got put in jail for the same thing steve was hailed a hero for is disgusting.

- i love sam with his family the domesticness of it is absolutely amazing

- bucky just lifting the thing i love it and i love him

- god i love sam and bucky's friendship, and seeing them work together on the boat absolutely warmed my heart

- 1940s bucky really came out when he flirted with sarah lmao

- the way bucky just casually lifts heavy things is sending me

- LMAO PLEASE "i dont always think of it immediately... im right handed" i love bucky why is he so awkward

- walker just straight up lied to lamar's family?? like he knows nico didn't kill lamar, and karli killed him and he lied?? screw him

- i feel so awful for lamar's family

- sharon is incredibly suspicious why tf is she talking to batroc

- bucky's face when he sees the kids im so soft

- sam's lil "she's a very mean person" PLEASE

- bucky and sam training together is giving me life, i love the little triangle they're making with the shield also it's incredibly hot when either of the catch the shield

- bucky apologizing i think was much needed. it wasn't that he was bigotted or racist in any way, but he was just unaware, and that apology was necessary for both sam and character development

- SAM TRAINING MONTAGE THIS IS NOT A DRILL - anyone else notice how sam consistently runs on the left

- you know i very much enjoy watching government officials get what they deserve

- now that tony is dead the wakandans just decided to outfit everyone with cool tech and im loving it

- END CREDIT SCENE I NEARLY MISSED IT - walker really said five minute crafts huh

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 2 years ago

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BFCD Reviews By Nesha || The Purge Franchise

Welcome, Welcome, Welcome to my experience with my Purge marathon this month, for October purposes. We could glide by the first one, since there is literally one Black woman in it and she’s there for like, a few minutes, or whatever. BUT. Since there were prominent Black female characters elsewhere in the franchise, I decided to just put all of my thoughts into one long post. (Only covered the movies 1-3, because that’s all I watched)

This essentially started whenever I saw this post that asked for POC thoughts on the representation in The Purge. I was already considering reviewing it, but that pretty much was like my little push. Then, I was in the comments or whatever, and just don’t think that I had the time at the moment to really state my thoughts in a comments section, particularly while I was only two movies in. Basically, long story short, if there is ever a story about POC, especially in stories where injustice is a major plot point - if there are characters of color, there need to be writers of color. If there are characters of color and no writers of color... Just know that them white people fucked it up. Sometimes it’s okay, because sometimes, they got a friend of color or something and have watched a few documentaries. Lol. Idk if this man who wrote this franchise know any Black people outside of work. 🤷🏾‍♀️

And the usual disclaimer, since we back OUTSIDE! You say you outside but you ain’t that outside. I’m outside of my fandoms in this department, and these things tend to bring the fandoms to me because I stepped foot in their things. Disclaimer for somebody who stumbled across this post because of the fandom tags - I am an independent partaker of this content, not “part of the fandom,” and my audience in particular is NOT for everybody. SO: If you may have been criticized in the past for casual racism, tone deafness to Black women’s concerns or accused of misogynoir or antiblackness, leave now. If you don’t like cussing, AAVE, general ratchetness and mean lesbian energy, you too might wanna go. A bitch can be eloquent, but I type like I talk, at times, so it is what it is and I don’t curate for kids, dudes, or nonblacks. That’s just what that is.

The Purge

I initially watched this movie whenever it first was out (more like whenever it was out of the theaters, so not at the very beginning of it’s existence, but pretty dang close). I watched it at my older sister’s house. I wasn’t interested in it. Whenever I heard the premise, I thought it sounded pretty dope, but then I saw Ethan Hawke, and so I was willing to pass. One thing I’ma do is pass on an Ethan Hawke movie without a second thought. So. I didn’t plan on watching it, but my sister put it on at her home one night and that’s her TV, so I wound up seeing the thing.

Wasn’t impressed with the movie, overall. It came out at a time where I was very invested and involved in Black activism and the movie read like someone who had read a few white liberal articles on politics and then made a lil’ movie about the horrors. It felt extremely tone deaf in some areas, and like the point it was trying to make was not being properly communicated.

BUT THEN, I noted that many of the white people I knew personally felt very into it and I decided, “Oh, okay. It was meant for them. It was to communicate things that we already know to these people who have often always been able to live without having to know or think about these things. I’m including this interaction with someone in the fandom, on the post linked above, to clarify:

So. To me, this family read as conservative. They could be moderates. I definitely could see it. They put their flowers out to show that they support the purge, but then whenever it comes down to it, they don’t actually have it in them to support it in full. But. I feel like there are so many conservatives like this as well.

I’m from Texas. Southeast Texas, to be exact. Right by the Gulf of Mexico, right by Louisiana. I have hella conservatives surrounding me who were “nice” people. They love their families, however that looked, and didn’t actually go out to klan rallies or anything, but they support law enforcement and make excuses for these “great institutions” in our nation, and in Texas. Now... They wouldn’t be likely to actually shoot me down dead without a second thought like the police would, but they would support the police force, despite them doing such things. This is how the main family reads, to me.

The writer though? Felt like someone on the other side. The ones who will gladly raise awareness to help the less fortunate, but if they had to do even a step more than that, they would not have the energy. The story read like a person - who puts BLM in their profile, but doesn’t really even know any Black people, much less help them - telling a story about how maybe, under the right (or very wrong) circumstances, their white counterparts could see the light about humanity.

I was glad to see that brotha survive, but beyond that, this was not a movie for me or mine. It isn’t a movie that outside of this marathon I will watch again either. Now, the second one, to me, was more empathetic. It was like if the writer heard feedback and decided to clarify and expound on what message the story was giving, and opened up a doorway to a broader audience.

The Purge: Anarchy

We followed characters around who knew what was up and were just trying to do their best. Instead of following people who were part of the problem like we did in the first movie, we followed people who were more likely to be affected by those in power who were the problem. They even went so far as to cast leads who are biracial Black women as part of the ensemble that we take this journey with.

Yes, like the first one, they’re still shown as targets of the problem, but they also are shown as survivors too, and while there is still an undertone of white saviorism, as there also was in the first movie, it isn’t a cut and dry white savior story. It is a group of people who need help through an impossible life in an unfair world, and how each of them does their best, not only to live, but to look out for their loved ones, and eventually each other. It is really the type of story that I would have wanted from a world like this, and I would have wanted evidence that there were people who could somehow make the best of it all.

Nobody don’t do that like Black people. One of our main identifiers is how we make lemonade out of lemons, so there was good visuals in who they selected to follow through this story and I thought the end was BEAUTIFUL. To see the brotha done not only survived last time, but he done started working to give power to the powerless? Loved that for him. Loved that Our Good Sis nem made sure to have the man’s back who had theirs in the beginning. It was a well told story for such a horrifying state of things.

The Purge: Election Year

I don’t know what happened here...

This movie was not good. At the end of the day, I think that they needed Black people, preferably ones who know about community work, politics, and such to assist them in trying to write these characters.

They gave you more POC in this story... They gave you more access to the ones standing up to the corrupt power system. But, then they sort of sullied it with this idea that to rise up is to be as bad as those who LITERALLY use their power to eradicate you and have the means and malice to do it.

White liberal knucka strikes again with a heavy hand in false equivalencies of an organization that had to be created in order to help and protect the most vulnerable people in these disgusting times with actual white supremacists. The white supremacists were a seen, real, force trying to eliminate the one person who wanted to make changes, from a place of power.

Enter the White Savior Trope that they were flirting with last movie, and amplify that bitch. This movie was so damn annoying with the thought of this white woman being the only hope that the people had, when the brotha had been tearing through the Purge purists’ shit for years. (He finally got him a name this movie too). But, my point is. There is no better way for you to get me to roll my eyes and smack my teeth than to try to paint some white as the only hope, and in THIS particular story, it’s especially heinous, because there was already some hope in the niggas evening the field a little bit by exterminating some of the high profile people and hitting their fancy events.

What this movie did was that, and even worse, they shoved down my THROAT that these negros with guns were just as bad, and somebody in there had the audacity to have the main negro say at one point, “Now, I love Black people, but I’m not letting you shoot these good white folks. These our white folks” while those people were in the process of trying to thwart an operation that could eliminate one of the worst of the purge pushers who had ALREADY tried to kill them PERSONALLY! WHY??? WHO BUT SOME HONKEY OR SOME COON WOULD WRITE THAT AND BE SERIOUS???????????

HUGE. STEP. DOWN. From the trust that they built with me as a Black viewer in the previous movie. I thought perhaps that there might be another increase in awareness and quality, like there was between the first and second movies. There was not. Not for my Black ass. I didn’t even watch it in one sitting, and was ready to end my trek through the franchise. I was that irritated by the complete and utter audacity, in a universe like this, in a situation like this for THAT. What SHOULD have happened, if it wasn’t some white nonsense, was everybody shoulda told that white lady what the brotha was tryna tell her and get the white people to sit down and shut up and get out the way, because come 7:00, THEY were gonna fucking be safe again! EVEN IF this white bitch is the only fucking hope in this universe, what she was gon’ do? Wave a wand and make it so?

These people were supposed to just wait for you to have the right pieces in order to possibly help them, when they KNOW FOR SURE, one of they problems can end, right now today, by blowing this dude brains out? GOOFY. This is goofy. This was the height of too white for me to personally enjoy. Especially because people who tend to say shit like, “Then, you’re no better than them” usually haven’t gone through nothing. This hoe went through the purge. Shit killed her whole family. She was almost assassinated TONIGHT, multiple times, and the minute. THE VERY MINUTE she realized that these people who HELPED HER were going after her opponent, her main focus was how SHE couldn’t win like that. BITCH, THIS IS THESE PEOPLE’S LIVES. FUCK YOUR WIN.

AND, WHO THE FUCK PUT THIS LADY IN CHARGE??? They already have an entire operation that they had to do with not one spec of help from the great white hope, and they have been doing there best and helping people. They have been about it, while she has spoken about it. And then suddenly, folk all gather to crowd and protect her and why is everybody in this movie priority to protect her? This is not my ministry. Hated it, for all of that. Some other POC might have liked it, oh no baby, not my Black ass. I was cussing all they asses out through them shenanigans. Fuckin’ up the church’s money.

“This is no longer an assassination. It’s a rescue mission.” IT COULD BE BOTH! UGH. HATE THIS GODDAMN BULLSHIT. “We can’t be like them.” YOUR LIFE LITERALLY IS NOT GOING TO BE SHIT TOMORROW, LADY, FUCK YOU! And she’s like... getting in his way as they’re tryna move out, talking through him through the door when he has this decision to make. Quite frankly, I think she’s a piece of shit specifically for getting in the way of this group killing that man. She’s just the “lesser of two evils,” who STILL does not have these people’s best interests at heart, and it is not clear if the writer knew this or actually believed in her policies. Judging from the way this story has always read as white liberal bullshit, I think it’s a writer issue, and not that her character is this way on purpose.

AND THEY KILL MY NIGGA! They gave us the optics of the main Black character getting gunned down by Nazis. And the one white hero whose entire mission this movie is to save the white woman is the one we get to see defeat the main Nazi. Who, as I said, had just killed the longest running Black character in the franchise, who only even got a name THIS movie, even though it’s his third appearance in the franchise. The other main negro jump in front of the white woman to give us the Sacrificial Negro Trope that I had a sneaky suspicion would occur in this movie. I just didn’t know which one they was gon’ do it too. But I knew. I felt it in my spirit that this was the type of writer who would employ that representation. Girl, fuck this movie. No lol.

The first hour and a quarter are tolerable, then it just shits itself. I actually went to try to see if there was some shuckin’ & jivin’ ass nigga behind the scenes that for whatever made them think this was okay, but nope - white people were responsible, and it SHOWS. Powered through the last half hour on principle. Don’t know if I wanna continue. There are so many horrific things that I can watch that I will probably love out there.

Not only was this the worst movie in the franchise, but this is one of the worst movies that I have seen recently. I’d advise the Black people with interests similar to mine not to waste your time. I would punch this man in his face for writing this movie, if I could. Whew. Well, niggas and friends... idk if Auntie Nesha will be finishing this franchise, but even if I do, at MOST, I’d do a “Nesha Watches” and liveblog it. This shit got my equilibrium fucked up.

#BFCD Reviews by Nesha #The Purge #Nesha Watches The Purge Franchise #Nesha Watches The Purge #Nesha Watches #The Purge Franchise #Eva Sanchez #Carmen Ejogo #Cali Sanchez #Zoe Soul #Laney Rucker #Betty Gabriel #Freak Bride #Brittany Mirabile #long post #reviews #BFCD Spooky Season #Queuetober

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oasis-nadrama · 3 years ago

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Rowling: The Political Enemy

Oasis Nadrama, 04/08/2021 [CW: transphobia, misogyny, racism, fascism]

Rowling is a significant example of reactionary depolitization with a thin varnish of pseudo-progressive thought. By merely reading Harry Potter, one can understand Rowling's underlying orientation, and her complete lack of political understanding. Apparently, she is thoroughly convinced she's championing egalitarian values, but her actions, declarations and positions run in the opposite direction. Rowling's "feminism" - more like fauxminism - finds its natural, instinctive source in the fact it is the only oppression she is able to truly visualizes. She visibly lacks both the passive empathy and active compassion to integrate systems of domination she does not directly experience in her worldview. Her past path left her with a solid awareness of precarity, but she is unable to reason in terms of class struggles. Systemic racism is completely unknown to her, her mind splitting and reducing it into the apparently mutually exclusive economical exploitation (goblins, house elves) and racist ideology (bigotry towards muggles, Voldemort's pseudo-nazism). She specializes in cultural appropriation (see her approach of Native-American magic) and she is "casually" anti-Semitic (see the goblins, again), as well as fatshaming, classist (in seven years, Harry did not help the Weasley financially once, not even when their house was set on fire by his enemies), misogynistic on a regular basic, ridiculously queerphobic (lycanthropy as an offensive metaphor for HIV with very unfortunate implications, blatant and constant erasure of Dumbledore's homosexuality, regular depiction of Grindelwald's sensuality as predatory)... She is the cops' best friend (Harry and his comrades end up as Aurors etc) and an excellent servant to the Powers That Be. Rowling is decent enough to understand fascism is the enemy, but she does not understand what fascism IS. She appreciates the statu quo and established institutions, and she simply thinks of government and administrative corruption as caused by weak people (Fudge, Scrimgeour) rather than an fundamental and endemic problem in statism and capitalism. She does not understand contemporary western societies are not merely infected by fascism: they are the MODEL fascism is built upon. Fascism is ultra-industrial/stakhanovist, tyrannical, full of toxic masculinity, misogyny and queerphobias, reeking of extreme racism, because existing structures are already capitalistic, statist, patriarchal and colonialist. Rowling is unable to grasp this reality, or even to suspect it, apparently, resulting in her regular support towards figures of authority and the ruling power. And of course, in the end, Rowling is also violently transphobic, she may even be the most popular, powerful TERF (Trans Exclusionary "Radical" "Feminist") in this time and age. For her fauxminism is limited to her own observations: she will never stop about anything else than the fundamental rights of... white, cisgender, zedsexual/zedromantic, dyadic (and now bourgeois) women, she's just thinking about the oppression she IS concerned with. And despite her lack of understanding of gender problematics, she claims to know the topic perfectly: "I've spent much of the last three years reading books, blogs and scientific papers by trans people, medics and gender specialists. I know exactly what the distinction is. Never assume that because someone thinks differently, they have no knowledge." So let's do her words justice. Let's assess her positions by the standard of the political knowledge she boasted about repeatedly. J.K. Rowling is a reactionary, right-wing, horribly transphobic individual. Period. P.S.: One’s position towards the Harry Potter universe is another matter entirely. Please do not use this article to shame or bully people who love this world, particularly transgender and non-binary people who find it already difficult to live in this world full of oppression, and who often manage to find escapism and a place of happiness in these works and who sometimes drew the strength for coming out from these pages.

#Harry Potter #j.k. rowling #transphobia #literature #patriarchy #politics #art #tw: transphobia #tw: misogyny #tw: racism #tw: fatshaming #tw: fascism #various articles

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s-creations · 4 years ago

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Two Steps Forward

Panchito has a heavy question on his mind. Something that he's worried that could make or break this relationship with the two people he loves the most. But he has to ask.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Discussion of Marriage, MArriage, Struggling New Life, Living Together, Minor Discussion of Racism, And I Mean Minor, Nervous Discussion, Happy Ending.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Heads up for everyone! Please note in the tagging section, I have made mention of racism being present in this story. It's nothing super impactful overall, but more of a show of frustration and to act as a sort of barrier. It's nothing that should make anyone feel uncomfortable, but I still wanted to make mention of is at it's still there.

With that being said, please enjoy!

Panchito knew what he brought to their relationship. He was the more chipper out of the three. Always with a smile, the positive outlook on the situation, to offer a good laugh to lighten the mood. Most would assume he was a bit ‘simple minded’. That the attitude came from not knowing what was happening.

But if he wasn’t paying attention, how would he know when to cheer people up?

It was a subtle skill he held. One he’d developed and perfected over the years with having to deal with a large family. Taking in what was happening and finding a good resolution. Understanding what the best outcome would be to spare everyone emotionally. Something he was having difficulty figuring out for this current situation.

Even with him and José having full citizenship, there were still a number of obstacles they couldn’t figure out how to get over.

The parrot was the only one out of the three that held a proper job. It was easy to transfer his position from one airport to another. He still had steady hours and proper insurance. A good income that helped supply the household. But that’s pretty much where the ease stopped.

It seemed realtors and landlords were overly cautious about renting to anyone recently immigrated. Even if said person had a secured job. Even then, there weren’t that many options available to them that made the trio thrilled enough to move. It was expensive to live in the city. Or anywhere near it. Every place they were shown was just as cramped as the boathouse and in a worse state of upkeep. One place being more duct tape than actual building materials. It honestly wasn’t worth the move. All decided it would be better to do so when the other two found stable jobs to help with their income. Which Panchito hoped would be soon because the boathouse was very cramped now with the extra boxes.

But even getting a job was becoming a struggle for both him and Donald. The duck had the unfortunate issue of having a bit of a criminal record. His temper caused him to be tossed from a number of businesses and blacklisted as being someone who was unreliable. Which aggravated the other two to no end because they knew of Donald’s work ethic. The duck was more than reliable if given a proper chance. Which a lot of businesses didn’t feel the need to do.

For Panchito, he had the trouble of finding a performance company that didn’t treat his heritage like a novelty. He was a serious performer, not a trinket for people to patronize! He wasn’t meant to play for families who used his heritage as a theme. Playing songs from his childhood dressed in an overly offensive outfit while privileged families broke apart dollar store bought pinatas. He should be playing at cumpleaños and quinceañeras. To people who would actually respect his work. He was not a trinket!

After a month of searching, it was starting to become a trudge to find a job.

Another concern was the health coverage for the triplets. Even if hatching was a natural process, there were still a number of worries. Donald had the cheapest version of healthcare his non-income could provide. Which still left a lot of out of pocket expenses. José offered to help, to take the full burden. Only to have that shot down when the parrot was told he’s not a legal guardian to the eggs.

“But, we are helping care for the triplets and I am making the offer. How is that not enough?” José argued in disbelief.

Donald just shrugged and shook his head. “You’re not related to them, so it won’t be allowed. That’s just the bottom line. We’d have to get married before we could do anything about it.”

That caused Panchito to perk up at that. His mind rolling the idea of possible marriage around in his head.

He knew what the risk could be. Truthfully, the three hadn’t properly dated for a long time. Maybe only close to a year. Donald had left and returned to his family after a short while of them being together. A promise from him that he’d return after another year and they could continue to explore the world together. After a year, however, it became clear Donald wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. Even if the duck kept contact as best he could, it wasn’t the same.

They never truly ‘broke up’. But Panchito really questioned if they had started dating all those years ago. They loved each other. That was never a question. Confessions were shared and an understanding was created, but they never said they were in a relationship. It was sort of just a silent understanding between the three of them. What worried the rooster was the fact he was thinking of an offer that could scare the other two away. And that scared him to think he could lose Donald and José just as soon as they were together once again.

Donald was a wreck at the moment. No matter what the duck said to convince otherwise. He’d just lost his family, either to the stars or because he cut them out, and had taken in three eggs without questioning how hard it was going to be to raise them. Even with José and Panchito back in his life to help, there were still a number of things that Donald had to worry about. A suggestion of marriage, of another huge life event after losing so much, might cause the duck to shut down and turn away from them.

José, while having a very forward and suave personality in public, was actually reserved when only around Donald and Panchito. They were aware of the parrot’s past ‘relationships’. Which were honestly nothing more than numerous one night stands. He never talked about his family. Panchito could only conclude on his own that any relation the parrot could have with his parents was a negative one. The rooster was worried he and Donald were the first people to give José an actual loving relationship. Something as extreme and rather permanent as marriage might cause the parrot to run.

Even with the possible threat of losing two people he cared so much about, marrying was a thought that hadn’t left Panchito’s mind as days passed. A want that grew stronger with each night that passed with them pressed close in the hammock. The rooster resting in the middle. Donald tucked right under his chin with José using the red feathered chest as a pillow. Arms and legs tangled together and all covered by a well-worn quilt.

As he lays awake, eyes watching the night sky as it passes, Panchito knows he wants this. He wanted it, wanted them, and he never wanted to let go.

He was going to make sure it happened.

Panchito was an early riser. Skillful at slipping out between the other two and standing on the cold floor without making a noise. He waited a few moments to make sure the others remained asleep. Looking back to watch as Donald and José shuffled closer together to reclaim the warmth that had left. The duck wrapped every limp around the parrot, José muttering as he nuzzled under Donald’s chin. Panchito gave a small smile before collecting the eggs, wrapping them up with an overly fluffy blanket and moving them to the kitchen.

Once the eggs were settled and still on the kitchen table, Panchito flipped on the radio to let music chase the quiet away. Loud enough to be heard, but not enough to wake the others. With that set, he turned his attention to making breakfast. The small buffet of different dishes was near completion when Donald and José shuffled out from the bedroom. The duck looked more awake than the parrot. Both took a seat at the table to wait for the still cooking food. Donald talked gently to the eggs while José leaned against his hand, eyes closing again.

Panchito soon joined them. A plate put before each to let them take their needed fill of food. A quiet mumble of ‘Thanks.’ sounded before all started eating. His heart was hammering as he started to eat as well, knowing he needed the others to be a little more awake before broaching the subject.

Absolutely not stalling because he was terrified with where this could lead.

“Panchito? Are you okay? You are quiet this morning.”

The rooster was a little embarrassed at how far he jumped. Eyes darting up to José before flickering between him and Donald. “Uh, yes. I’m fine. Just...I have something on my mind?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The duck asked this time.

Unsure of what to say, Panchito stalled for time by plucking at the small feathers on his fingers and wrist. Only for Donald to reach over and halt him.

“I want to get married.” Well, there goes all that subtly and structured argument he’d been trying to build up. Panchito felt his feathers ruffle in embarrassment, eyes darting down as the other’s exchanged looks of surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask like that.” The rooster groaned.

“What...brought this on?” Donald asked.

“I...just… We’ve been talking a lot about what we need to do to care for the eggs. And how it seems that we can’t move forward because our credit, or our finances, or that just being together doesn’t count as being ‘stable’. And you made a casual comment about being married would really benefit us. Which got me thinking about marrying you two and how much I really wanted to and I…”

Panchito exhaled slowly, leg bouncing as he squeezed Donald’s hands. “I don’t want to lose you two and I...I really like the idea of us marrying and I… I love you two, so much. I love the eggs and I want to give them the best. I don’t need or even want fanfare about it all. I just...I want...to marry...you two…”

With that, it fell quiet. Shoulders slumped as he leaned back into the padded seat. His eyes remained on the table, not wanting to see the other’s looks of possible disgust or rejection. It was such a poor argument (it wasn’t even an argument, he wasn’t sure what that rambling counted for) and he was already worried the other two weren’t ready for this. If they had been on the fence about this then Panchito did not win them over.

What was he thinking?

He couldn’t have been better prepared for this?

Make a list. Pros and cons to make his case. Why did he just dive head first into this? He’s such an idiot. No sane person just asks something so heavy and so suddenly. They were going to leave him because they’re going to realize how much of an idiot he was. He was going to lose them.

He felt so sick, he wanted to cry-

“I was honestly thinking the same thing.” Panchito’s head shot up so quickly José actually flinched. The parrot recovered quickly, giving a small smile before continuing. “I know it is a large step forward, but...I don’t want to lose you two. I want to spend the rest of my life with the both of you.”

José reached over to take a hand from both Panchito and Donald. “I wish to marry you two.”

Heart beating furiously, Panchito beamed and gave a gentle squeeze to the parrot’s hand. Both turned to face Donald who still looked stunned.

“Is this moving too fast?” the rooster asked worriedly, “I-I really didn’t want to push you-”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s just…” Donald laughed softly, “People normally get on one knee to propose.”

“Oh, well, by all means. If we need to do this properly.”

“No, I was joking!” Donald laughed as Panchito slid from the booth. Making a large show of getting on his knee, flipping his crown back and setting his face as serious as he could. It didn’t help that Donald was laughing still, clearly flustered. “Donald Duck. José Carioca. Will you do me the great honor of allowing me to take your hands in marriage?”

“So salacious,” José smiled, “Did you even ask my father if he approved of this?”

“...I’d rather not. He scares me.”

Donald doubled over in laughter at that. The parrot playfully rolled his eyes as he sighed dramatically. “Well, I suppose that does not truly need to happen… Very well, I accept.”

“This is the strangest proposal that I’ve ever seen.” Donald wheezed.

Panchito pouted. “This is supposed to be serious and heartfelt.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, hold on.” Taking a few deep breaths, the duck collected himself the best he could. Feathers still ruffled as he said, “I happily accept as well.”

Being mindful of the eggs resting nearby, Panchito clambered onto the table. Close enough to pull the other birds into a deep kiss. He wished he had enough room to dance and jump without the worry of breaking something important. Or that he could yell with joyful abandonment without disturbing the neighbors. But he was more than content with being squished between his fiancées as the sun fully rose into the sky.

They were married two weeks later. No fanfare, no family members physically present (Panchito’s family watched and cheered from a computer screen), they didn’t even bother with rings. All deciding it would be better to save up for a larger place to live.

The rooster didn’t want to say the written paper that officially announced their marriage was any sort of a good luck charm. But it seemed after said event, things started to look up. Panchito was able to get a ‘non-themed’ position with an entertaining business. A small company that catered to the minority families located in Duckberg and the surrounding towns. Donald eventually decided he would just be a stay at home parent. Knowing someone would need to keep an eye on the triplets once they hatched.

“We’ll save on babysitters this way.” The duck concluded with a shrug.

They were able to find a comfortable apartment next. Three bedrooms, two baths, and positioned perfectly in the suburbs near Duckberg. There was a bit of a commute, but one they were more than willing to put up with for the price of the place. There was a bittersweet moment when the boathouse was finally sold. José and Panchito recognized how hard Donald had worked to get a place of his own after the fall out. But it was forgiven and forgotten rather quickly when the money was spent on a large bed and three cribs.

“We’ll get a hammock when we buy a house.” José promised.

Donald laughed softly. “I’ll be fine with an actual bed for awhile. Shockingly, back support sounds more appealing.”

It took a few weeks to properly settle in. The big pieces of furniture were placed first, allowing for some semblance of a layout. José would be called away for a few days at a time, so Panchito and Donald focused on putting the smaller items in place when the parrot wasn’t there. The rooster was more than thrilled when he had an entire set of shelves for his heirlooms. While one of the rooms was specifically made up to be the nursery, Donald wanted the eggs to be nearby for the time being. One of the cribs having been set up in their large bedroom close to the bed.

“It’s just until they’ve hatched.” Donald concluded.

Panchito laughed softly. “Or until you feel okay with leaving them alone. Which will probably be never.”

“Shut up.”

They eventually fell into a comfortable routine. José was gone for most days but slipped into the others arms easily every time he returned home. Panchito and Donald kept all as orderly as they could at the homestead. The rooster content with his new career. Even if it wasn’t the record label he had always dreamed about as a child. He had a home, a job, and happily married to the two people he cared so much about.

When he woke early, before the sun had even started to crest over the horizon. Pressed against a clinging duck and parrot that were resting on either side of him. Eggs resting in the nearby crib being illuminated by a nightlight. Panchito would realize, with a watery smile and warmth in his chest, he wouldn’t change this for anything.

This was his new dream and he was happily living it.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Panchito Pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchio pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations

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angelofthequeers · 4 years ago

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How is Zoe's comic racist? (sorry don't mean to question you, genuinely curious) Also, I admit I was also sucked into the salt fic whirlpool, but quickly left after I realized how toxic it was being. Could you also elaborate on GalahadWilder, if it isn't too uncomfortable for you? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, or ask uncomfortable questions.

I can’t point out everything off the top of my head but the racism (along with everything else but that’s not the focus) is a large part of what made me throw my hands up and write this. And I won’t be answering any more asks about any of this because I just want to get it out there so people know (because of how many people genuinely don’t see it) and then go back to trying to forget that this shit ever existed, rather than dragging out some new fandom drama. Also keep in mind that while I’m West Asian/Arab, I’m also white-passing so if I get anything wrong, I appreciate call-outs. (Also I finally got my laptop charger today so I can snip my posts again 😭)

Her treatment of Max in ‘Gamer’.

It’s not unique to her; it’s a very common salter thing to utterly tear into Max for being a “sexist jerk” and daring to underestimate princess Marinette because she’s a girl. Never mind that they canonically aren’t close friends because of Chloé’s bullying, so Max probably had no idea that Marinette’s liked video games all this time, where Adrien is the new boy so it’s just one more thing to learn about him.

It’s especially heinous compared to how the other classmates are treated far more leniently for their own mistakes - they still get salted on but Max, aka the Black boy, always seems to get singled out and held to higher standards. Just look at ‘Chameleon’ and how the other classmates are mildly to moderately attacked by salters but Max gets utterly ripped to shreds because he “should know better”. (Never mind that just because he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s good at human interaction. They just want to attack him).

It also angers me because people like Nathaniel and Ivan are absolved of what they do as akumas (like kidnapping others and literally forcing someone to go on a date with them) because they couldn’t help it, yet Max is literally held responsible for what he did when akumatised (because he dared to go after Princess Marinette) and even for daring to get akumatised in the first place. Both these things just make him a sore loser, apparently.

So SL ‘Gamer’ was the final straw for me, especially with how she characterised Max as a smug arsehole, and it made me so angry that I just exploded to my friends, but I didn’t know how to directly call it out without looking like a petty bitch.

Here’s a post I made about salters and ‘Gamer’ if you’re interested in a more coherent and in-depth thing about it.

Alya’s treatment throughout the whole thing.

In canon, she’s an enthusiastic and passionate girl who sometimes gets carried away and goes too far and who idolises Ladybug because Ladybug stands against evil. Here? She’s treated as the butt of the joke for being so starry-eyed over superheroes that she idolises Scarlet Lady while Marinette mocks her behind her back. Never mind her iconic line of “all that is needed for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing” and this is why she loves Majestia in the first place. Never mind that she loves Ladybug because Ladybug is kind and passionate and strong and creative. Canon Alya wouldn’t want a bar of Scarlet Lady, who just sits around complaining, and yet SL!Alya worships her because...why? Running joke? The only Black girl in the series is treated as a gag to be made fun of by someone who’s supposed to be her best friend, just for the audience’s amusement. Marinette’s probably meant to look funny and relatable here, but she just looks like a major bitch to her new friend. Alya’s flaws are basically blown up and exaggerated for comedic effect, while Marinette in contrast is airbrushed to perfection, with no flaws and no anxiety that was only alleviated in canon by - guess what - being Ladybug.

It’s like Zoe wants to stick to canon while adding her own little “fun” twists for humour, like making Marinette snarky and perfect (which just makes her look like an utter bitch) and in the case of Alya, it does her so dirty that even Lila is more sympathetic. LILA. After SL humiliates Lila, Alya looks doubtful but buys some bullshit excuse so that she can continue to be the Scar-worshipping idiot. And then in the aftermath, her concern isn’t for Lila, the girl who was humiliated and bullied by a literal superhero and then ended up sick. No, she’s angry because...Lila lied on her blog. The blog that doesn’t have nearly as much recognition as in canon because SL would never validate her, unlike Ladybug. So her passion for her blog is exaggerated to imply that she’d say that a girl deserves to be bullied and sick because she told a few lies (since at this point, Alya doesn’t know about any possible malice on Lila’s part, just as in canon. All that’s known is the lying for attention).

It’s horrible hypocrisy, where Alya is held to higher standards than the other (white) characters and when she fails to meet those standards, she’s torn into. She’s not afforded any sympathy for being hurt that Lila lied to her; in fact, she’s demonised for feeling hurt, especially because of the running joke that her blog is focused on someone so horrible and she doesn’t see that. Lila is presented as the sympathetic one here. LILA. Just because Alya dared to believe her in canon.

Also, how she’s constantly trying to either tease Marinette for having a crush or insist that Marinette’s only doing what she does because of a crush...even though according to this ‘verse’s canon, Marinette is too good to make mistakes and do obsessive stuff over a crush, which is why canon Alya thinks this about her in the first place. That didn’t just come out of nowhere in the show purely for “woe is Marinette, her best friend doubts her”.

Like in the first part of ‘Gamer’, where she’s accusing Marinette of only entering the tournament to flirt with Adrien while Marinette so “coolly and calmly” rebuts her...why? By the ‘verse’s own logic, Marinette isn’t a flustered mess around Adrien. The only purpose of this scene is to glorify Marinette and her amazing calmness while making Alya look like a nosy idiot who dares to doubt her best friend. The logic of the ‘verse and of canon clash really jarringly in moments like this, and it becomes clear that the only purpose of these moments is to make Marinette look better at the expense of others. Most often her best friend, who’s an utter idiot for not seeing Scarlet Lady’s true nature and just can’t keep her nose out of Marinette’s business and so comes to wrong conclusions. Why are Marinette and Alya even friends in this ‘verse? SL!Marinette’s been nothing but condescending towards Alya most of the time.

Uh, and also the way she occasionally whitewashes Alya. Just look at the SL headers. She literally made Alya, aka a Black girl who’s one of the good guys, lighter than Lila, aka a white girl who’s one of the bad guys and not even that tanned in canon. Why do people make one of the villains darker and often whitewash one of the heroes? It’s not that hard to figure out.

(Also the way she really played into the aggressive Black girl stereotype in ‘Horrificator’ over a minor argument, even physically threatening Nino. Why? Literally why did she have to go full-on aggressive instead of just looking angry and scolding him or something?)

This all might not be conscious on Zoe’s part but the way Alya is treated is still disgusting, especially if you’re operating on internalised salt from other aspects of the salty fandom. I’ve seen her claims that she’s trying to help Alya improve and she’s not being salty but...even if she’s not being consciously salty, her salt is definitely still leaking over it and part of that salt includes racism. I also don’t see how making Alya a joke and exaggerating her flaws is helping her to improve when there was plenty to go off in canon but, well, that might just be me.

Even Marinette, who’s pretty much treated as white for 99% of it.

Marinette, aka the girl who’s only made visibly “Asian/Other” in SL ‘Reflekta’ with her Chinese-inspired Black Cat suit and name which is a one-off, while her permanent Bee outfit is just the bland tight suit that salters criticise Ladybug for having and her name is just Marigold. It comes across as using “Asianness” as a costume and it really didn’t sit right with me at first, but it took me a while to tease out why exactly this made me feel ick.

There’s nothing wrong with touching more on Marinette’s heritage and expanding on it in ways that the show doesn’t, especially because this is a big sticking point for salters, but again...it’s only a one-off. A costume. There aren’t casual hints sprinkled throughout the comic that just normally establish Marinette as half-Chinese, aside from like a page or two in ‘Timebreaker’ showing Sabine’s outfit. It’s another ‘Kung Food’ where it’s slammed into one episode and shoved into our faces that Marinette Is Chinese and it’s really jarring and unpleasant.

It just comes across as fetishising, is all. I don’t think it’s something most people would pick up on unless they’re used to being able to see this kind of thing.

Master Fu. Oh, Master Fu.

From an old man who made mistakes but tried as best as he could with the limited knowledge he had, he’s now a bumbling idiot who...put the earrings in Marinette’s bag instead of her room for some reason? To kickstart the plot? Especially because the ring was still in Adrien’s room. It’s very, very contrived.

And then in one of the most recent updates, Zoe has Adrien - a white boy - physically threaten Fu, aka an elderly Asian man. It’s disgusting. I was gobsmacked when I first saw it. And that’s the thing with salters: they tear into Adrien for being a white boy so they can look Enlightened when he hasn’t actually done anything racist, yet they then turn around and perpetuate actual racism in trying to “fix” him

There’s probably more but those are the examples that jump out at me of the racism in SL. There are plenty more problems but...whatever. I’ll be here all day if I try and cover those.

As for the Galahad thing...it’s personal. That original post was as much as I was comfortable revealing.

#ask #aotq babbles #miraculous ladybug #ml fandom salt #yeah there’s a lot here lmao #cw racism #antiblackness #ml analysis

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whitehotharlots · 3 years ago

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CRT and the sad state of educational politics

If our culture is studied 100 years from now, the predominant theme of the research will be a sense of perplexed revulsion toward how we did nothing to address the climate crisis in spite of having decades of forewarning. If there is a second theme, it will be a profound confusion regarding our immense and unearned sense of self-certainty. A retrospective of the early twenty first century would be titled something like Who the Fuck Did These People Think They Were?

The latter theme is illustrated in the debacle surrounding a recent slew of municipal and statewide bills that seek to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in public schools. For the record, I am strongly against these bans. But I’m also self-aware enough to know my opinion matters very little, and therefore realize that an analysis of the discussion surrounding the bills will yield much more worthwhile observations than a simple delimitation of their pros and cons. Regardless of your personal opinion, I hope you’ll humor me.

I am, in some regards, a moral absolutist. But I also realize that abstract morality has very little bearing on material and political realities. In my ideal world, classrooms are free from political meddling. Teachers teach to the best of their ability, presenting students with truths that are confidently unvarnished due to the thorough amount of work that was required to reach them. I don’t cotton any of that socratic bullshit. Students are there to learn, not to engage in weird Gotchas with some perverted elder. The teacher’s job is to teach. The material they teach needs to be subjected to some graspable and standardized mechanism of truth adjudication before it is worthy of being taught. Teaching is not therapy. Teaching is not poetry. Teaching is not love, nor is it religion, nor is it a means of social or political indoctrination. There are plenty of other avenues available to accomplish all of those other things. Teaching is teaching.

That’s the ideal. But ideals are just ideals. They never come true. The art of teaching, regardless of setting--from overpacked classrooms to face-to-face instruction to curricular design to nationwide pedagogical initiatives--boils down to a teacher’s ability to reconcile the need to convey truths with social and political pressures that are heavily invested in the suppression of truth.

I have formally studied and practiced education for nearly two decades. In that time, the prevailing political thrust toward education has been a desire to casualize the practice of teaching, to render educators as cheap and fungible as iphones. The thrust takes different shapes depending on the political affiliation of whomever happens to be in charge of the state and federal governments that fund education, but the ultimate desire is always the same. The goal is always to attempt to make teaching rote and algorithmic, something akin to running a google search for How to do math? or What is morality?. The framing is always just windowdressing, empty culture war bullshit.

Maybe it’s the inescapability of this thrust that’s rendered so many educators so blind to it? We only have nominal political choice, after all. The discourse gets more blinkered and vicious as the stakes decrease. At any rate, this is the undeniable reality, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth listening to.

Non-administrative per-pupil spending as been on a steady decline since George W. Bush was president. Administrative bloat and meddling are becoming as common in k-12 as they are in higher education. The will of parasitic NGOs are implemented as common sense pedagogy without anyone even bothering to ask for any proof that they work. The so-called Education Reform movement is sputtering out due both to its manifest failures and rare, bipartisan backlash. But it will be replaced with something just as idiotic and pernicious. The thrust of causalization will not abate.

And so what do we decide to do? What’s the next big thing on the education policy horizon? Critical Race Theory.

Okay, this makes sense. In 2021, a local paper can’t run a news story about a lost cat without explicitly mentioning the race of every human involved and possibly also nodding toward the implied cisnormativity of pet ownership. So it makes sense that this broad rhetorical mandate would come to dominate the transitional period between Bush-Obama Education Reform and whatever bleak future awaits us. The controversy is so perfectly inefficacious that its adoption was inevitable. Because, seriously, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome of this kerfuffle, no problems will be solved. The real shortcomings of public education will not be addressed. Larger social problems that are typically blamed on public education in spite of having little to do with public education will especially not be addressed. Maybe white kids will have to do struggle sessions in lieu of the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe black kids will get full credit for drawing the Slayer logo in the part of the test where their geometric proof is supposed to go. Or maybe it won’t happen. Maybe instead these practices will be banned, and in turn liberals will begin to embrace homeschooling, the charter movement will be given new life as a refuge against the terrors of white supremacist behaviors such as, uhh, teaching kids to show their work. Whatever.

Within the context of public education, the outcome will not matter. It cannot matter. There will be broader social impacts, sure. It will continue to drive Democrats more rightward, providing their party’s newly woke corporate wing with progressive-sounding rationales for austerity. But so far as teachers and students are concerned, it won’t matter.

Why do I give a shit about this, then? To put it bluntly, I’m struck by the utter fucking inartfulness of CRT’s proponents. At no point has any advocate of CRT presented a case for their approach to education that was at all concerned with persuading people who aren’t already 100% in their camp. There’s been no demonstration of positive impacts, or even an explanation of how the impacts could hypothetically be positive. In fact, so much as asking for such a rationale is considered proof of racism. Advocates posit an image of existing educational policies that is absolutely fantastical, suggesting that kids never learn about slavery or racism or civil rights. But then... then they don’t even stick with the kayfabe. They’ll say “kids never learn about racism.” In response, people--mostly well-meaning--say “wait, umm, I’m pretty sure they do learn about racism.” The response is “we never said they don’t learn about racism.” You’ll see this shift from one paragraph to the next. It’s insane. Absolutely insane.

Or take this talk from a pro-CRT workshop in Oregon. The speaker freely admits that proto-CRT leanings like anti-bias education, multiculturalism, and centering race in historical discussions have been the norm since the late 1980s. The speaker admits that these practices have been commonplace for 30+ years, as anyone my age or younger will attest. Then, seconds later, the speaker discusses the results of this shift: it failed. Unequivocally:

We had this huge, huge, huge focus on culturally relevant teaching and research. [ ... ] So you would think that with 40+ years of research and really focusing and a lot of lip service and a lot of policies and, you know, a lot of rhetoric about cultural relevancy and about equity and about anti-bias that we would see trends that are significantly different, [but] that’s not what we’re finding. What we’re finding that you see [is] that some cases, particularly black and brown [students] the results, the academic achievement has either stayed the same and gotten worse.

Translation: here’s this approach to teaching. It’s new and vital but also we’ve been doing it for 40 years. It doesn’t work. But we need to keep doing it. Anyone who is in any way confused by this is a dangerous racist.

Even in the darkest days of the Bush-era culture war, I never saw such a complete and open disregard for honesty. This isn’t to say that Bush-era conservatives weren’t shit-eating liars. They were. But they had enough savvy to realize that self-righteousness alone is not an effective way of doing politics. You need to at least pretend to be engaging with issues in good faith.

This is what happens when a movement has its head so far up its own ass that it cannot comprehend the notion of good-faith criticism. These people do not believe that there can exist anyone who shares their basic goals but has concerns that their methods might not work. Their self-certainty is so absolute and unshakeable that they can proffer data demonstrating the complete ineffectiveness of their methods as proof of the necessity of their methods.

For decades, the most effective inoculation against pernicious meddling in education has been to lean upon the ideal form of teaching I described earlier in this post. We claimed that teaching is apolitical and that no one is trying to indoctrinate anybody. Regardless of the abstract impossibility of this claim, it has immense and lasting appeal, and it was upheld by a system of pedagogical standards that allowed teachers to evoke a sense of neutrality. The prevailing thrust in liberal education is to explicitly reject any such notions, and no one--not a single goddamn person--has proffered a convincing replacement for it. We still say, laughably, that we’re eschewing indoctrination. But people aren’t that stupid. If you find it beneath yourself to make your lies digestible, people will be able to tell when you’re lying to them.

This, my friends, bodes very poorly for the future of education, regardless of whatever happens in the coming months. A movement that cannot articulate its own worth is not one that is long for this world. Teachers themselves are the only force that can resit the slow press toward the eventual elimination of public education, and they have embraced a worldview and comportment style that renders them absolutely unable to mount any worthwhile resistance.

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emerald-studies · 5 years ago

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Racism in Education

June 27, 2020

Day 6 of 7

[ These are just some thoughts I have in my head about this topic, it isn’t meant to be a purely academic discussion. It’s meant to be a conversation to learn about another perspective. ]

—-

Ok this will be my most challenging post. This is a long read but I’d appreciate you reading it all because I’ve been doing free emotional labor for almost a month and if you want to be an ally, that means learning from other perspectives. So please read. This drained me so much to write, please make it worth it.

You have the time, please read.

As I stated in my intro, I moved from a very conservative State (I don’t even want to say the State because I hate it so much.) to Washington State. I moved after graduating online school a year ago.

Growing up in that State I was almost always the only Black girl in my class. For my whole educational career. I hated when we would discuss the civil rights movement because I could feel my White peers staring at me, like I was the face of my race.

It was junior year that broke me.

I began the year optimistic. I always did, even though I had experienced racism before each year, pushing me to move to 4 different schools in 4 years.

I moved to a school in a rural area with a lot of mormons and maybe 5 Black people in the whole, huge school.

It was in September that my mental health plummeted. I don’t know why. I guess I was overwhelmed. I was in an AP US History class and there was work over the summer that everyone else did, but I didn’t. I had just gotten there, after all. I didn’t have the textbook. That class was such a heavy workload that we were having a quiz every other day, 1 test a week, and I was trying to study for a test that my peers had months to study for, and already took.

I attempted to take my life, but I knew I didn’t really mean it. I’ll be honest about that. I just wanted everything to stop so I could catch my breath.

I went to the ER on a Thursday night. My Mom drove me.

We sat in the ER for a little bit and then I was taken to a little room where a nurse came to talk to me. BTW I have never had a good interaction with a nurse.

This nurse came in and basically shamed me.

“You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to do this to yourself.”

Yeah, no shit. I thought about that every day. My grades, getting into college, getting into law school.... that’s the point. I was overwhelmed.

She suggested that I punch a pillow if I “Got upset” because that’s what her daughter does.

Fuck off.

The Doctor came in and he gave me butterfly bandages and he was so much more understanding, shockingly. (I’ve shadowed Surgeons and Doctors and they can be a little abrasive).

I liked that the Doctor fixed me up. I liked having this wrap around my wrist. I felt like I could move on. Like I let something out.

The Doctor asked if I needed to stay at this place that dealt with cases like mine.

I said,

“No.”

I couldn’t have that on my record for what I want to do. So, I went home.

I took the Friday off and my Mom visited the school to let them know what happened. I was already preparing for pity.

I had to come in on Monday to set up a 504 (students with disabilities act) for depression. I don’t think I had depression, but whatever. I dropped out of AP US History.

They made accommodations for me: more time on tests, working in the library, more time on assignments, etc.

I want you to know that I did not touch those accommodations for 5 months.

I knew I didn’t need them. I maintained a 3.8 GPA.

I sat in a room with all 8 of my teachers (we had a block schedule 4 classes per day alternating), seeing all of them look at me with disgusting levels of pity.

They each talked to me in private saying things like,

“If you ever need anything, let me know.”

“I’m here for you.”

“You matter.”

I thought,

“Hm ok, that’s nice.”.

I went on for months without using my accommodations and practically wooping my “normal” classmates in intellectual discussions.

But then the casual racism I experienced was escalating.

First, in the beginning of the year, my AP US History teacher put his hand on my head and said to a student,

“If you really believe that, Faith would be a slave right now.”

(I don’t remember what the hell we were even talking about)

Then I got little questions/comments like,

“Why do you dress White?”

“Cracker is just as offensive as the n-word”

But now we were going into Black History Month. My new history teacher was an old White Man and we were talking about the civil rights movement, while in English we were reading “Black Like Me” with my blonde, Female, millennial teacher.

I nailed everything in the civil rights movement discussions. The teacher loved me. I nailed the conversations about “Black Like Me”.

But....I don’t know. The environment got really toxic. There was more racism, gaslighting, slurs. Every. single. day. It could break anyone.

I would be on the brink of tears in class every day.

Guess who didn’t notice?

All 8 of those concerned teachers.

They don’t give a shit.

My grades were still pretty good, but I started working in the library. I couldn't be around all of those racist peers.

While in the library, my counselor would come in and interrogate me.

“How long have you been in here?”

“Have you tried, really tried to go to class?”

Of course I tried! I felt like I wanted to be dead and so I left. That’s what the 504 Plan was for. Again, I hadn’t touched my accommodations for months so I thought maybe these grown adults would use their tiny brains and think,

“Huh maybe she needs help.”

But no.

I would go to the counselor almost every day and say

“I’m not doing well.”

And she’d ask,

“What does that mean?”

Ok...so I have to tell this Woman that I feel like dying but not at my own hand? Because she can’t use social cues and read my face stained with tears?

I couldn’t say anything.

She said,

“What can we do to keep you going here?”

I said,

“I don’t know”

Because that’s not my job.

Then it happened.

My history teacher was talking about affirmative action.

He said,

“If I worked at a bank for 30 years and went to work at another bank, FAITH would get a job over me because she’s a BLACK WOMAN. Do you get that? She covers TWO minorities!”

He said this while pointing his wrinkled finger in my face.

None of my peers said anything.

I replied with,

“Well, what are my qualifications?”

He ignored me.

He went on a rant teaching his opinions, not facts. So I wrote down what he said on sticky notes.

I called my Mom at break and asked her

“Is that racist? Do I do anything?”

I was so desensitized to racism I couldn’t tell anymore.

My White Mom, my awesome Mom said,

“YES.”

I went to the Vice Principal and reported the teacher and gave her the sticky notes.

The next day we got an email from the principle saying that the teacher said, he never said anything about me.

So I was a liar?

To get evidence, I recorded the whole next class. I was scared every minute that he would find out.

He didn’t. And he said more awful things.

I had concrete proof.

We told the Principal and he ignored me. My Mom emailed the superintendent (very high up person in the school district) and oh now he responds?

They basically said,

“We gave him a warning, he won’t do it again.”

Ok so he just will hide his racism now. Just remember, teachers legally aren’t allowed to teach their opinion. The Supreme Court deemed it unconstitutional to teach opinions.

I was still required to go to this racist Man’s class. I still answered every question he posed to the class and he recognized my intelligence.

So WHY?

WHY me?

The whole year he loved having me as a student and then....that?

Moving on to my English class.

We had to do a cultural experience trip and so my acquaintance and I went to the Black History Museum. Because I’m Nigerian-American. I do identify as Black though because everyone assumes it anyways, but I wanted to learn more about the history in my city.

We were required to make presentations talking about the experience we had. I decided to add a little twist.

I made a whole slide in my slideshow dedicated to every racist thing said to me in that class.

The slide was met with laughter because racism is just so funny.

My teacher said nothing.

So I, the student, the minor in the room, had to say,

“I see you laughing but this is why I’m leaving this school. This is serious.”

Nothing from my teacher.

Cut to maybe a week later and I was done. I was sitting in my English class about to burst. My acquaintance asked me,

“Are you doing ok?”

I replied,

“No. Absolutely not.”

A classmate checked in on me, while all my 8 teachers who actually knew about my attempt on my life didn’t.

We went outside and I decided to leave the school that day. Three weeks before summer break. I couldn’t be in either class anymore. I felt my brain rotting from being exposed to the absolute shit that those students/teachers would spew, every day.

I lost my 3.8 GPA

I lost my credits for the semester.

The racist teacher is still working.

I had to go online.

It happened again.

Another racist history teacher.

Wasn’t removed.

I graduated with a lower GPA.

Didn’t apply to my dream school.

I have the trauma seared into my brain. I’m terrified of taking another history class. Terrified.

Ok, that’s it. If you made it this far, thank you. It took me awhile to write this. I hope this gave you another perspective.

So.... discussion time.

Let me know what you think here

I’d like to hear from you since I delved into my trauma.

I don’t think I’ll ever tell this story again, it makes me sick and tired. But I’ll answer questions/asks.

If you have a lot of White guilt and wanna do something, you could donate some reparations to my venmo lol:

@faithrebecca1397 (last 4 digits are 4809)

or paypal

http://www.paypal.me/faithrebecca1397

Edit: People are asking me if they can reblog this. YES PLEASE REBLOG. It’s important to let people know that all types of racism are alive and well.

#blm #black lives matter #education #academia #black women matter #discussion #racism #history #mental health

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whoslaurapalmer · 3 years ago

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finished rereading the raven cycle and you know how last year i said i could be pickier about the raven king but didn’t want to? this year i did want to!

-i mean, i love the raven cycle. interesting magic, very comfy, would sell my soul for the gangsey. -but most of this post is gonna be me complaining about the raven king -the tl;dr of it all is ‘the pacing of the raven king is too fast and too slow at the same time. it’s not that i think it was terrible, but i don’t think it was written as successfully as the previous books. i think, because the pacing of the book is so uneven, that the balance between events, and perhaps the balance between the magic and the characters own inherent internal coming of age power, is off. oh btw i am considering reading call down the hawk but Have Concerns’

-noticed the ‘blue is calling gansey from the phone/sewing/cat room and gansey is calling blue from the bathroom-kitchen-laundry’ parallel which i thought was very, very cute. that has my whole heart -also noticed a lot more of gansey’s whole person just constantly thinking about (or not-thinking about) his death -BUT THEN THE PROLOGUE TO THE RAVEN KING SMACKED ME IN THE FACE AGAIN HOW COULD I FORGET THAT GANSEY LIKE. LITERALLY KNOWS HE’S GONNA DIE AND THE RAVEN KING IS HIM TRYING MAKE SURE EVERYONE WILL BE OKAY AFTER HE’S DEAD -I CANNOT HANDLE RICHARD CAMPBELL GANSEY THE THIRD MY GOD THIS BOY

-canNOT overstate how much i really do love gwenllian. -i love her so much. i love her so much -same with malory. still love him.

-okay i guess i appreciated artemus a little more -i think my thing is like. do i have a problem with blue being part tree? no not necessarily. but the pacing in the raven king is so uneven that i think what i dislike is how the reveal happened -no i don’t know what i’d do differently!! -every time i disagree with a writing choice in a book i try and think ‘now lulu, as someone with a Literal Degree In Putting Words Together, what would you do differently?’ which is a REALLY good writing exercise but mostly just ends up with me going ‘uhhhh. idk. probably have to backtrack a couple plot points and restart from there. no i will not elaborate.’

-last time i thought the raven king moved too fast and this time i agree but also thought it moved too slow?? -i devoured the first three books every time and then both times i read the raven king i kept putting it down because i thought the pacing was so off, so i was simultaneously interested and not interested in what was going on -too fast re: there were A LOT of characters going on, laumonier and piper and henry and neeve and plot points were just piling up and more like slamming together than converging (piper being laumonier’s daughter and henry’s mother being seondeok especially feel less like pieces falling into place than, oh look! ~a thing!!~), ALSO GOD NOAH NEEDED TO SHOW UP MORE (just like. a smidge more noah. would’ve put a lot together), and the speed of finding glendower/driving back/gansey dying/the epilogue -too slow re: somehow so many things are happening but nothing is happening in some parts, some parts dragged, people are just moving around with no real direct sense of working towards the end, blue and gansey were at lunch while adam and ronan were in cabeswater that one time????????????? (-not that they can’t get lunch. but they had time to get lunch???????) -oh i think the four of them maybe felt the most disjointed as a group in this book, which is again not necessarily terrible, but a thing -and these things are just so disappointing because i thought the pacing of the first three books was so GOOD!! things take their time to happen but HAPPEN and i love that so much!!!! -i do feel bad criticizing the raven king bc i know maggiestief was going through health problems at the time and it took longer than she wanted to finish. but i am still criticizing it because it’s still a very unsatisfying ending

-reading this time i felt EVEN MORE FIRMLY that gansey should’ve been glendower, and even went so far as to consider, is the text saying he’s glendower, it’s just not explicitly stated?? because of all the parallels??? of gansey being old and young at the same time, gansey + his own magicians, the parallel between glendower shoving that guy in a tree and gansey wanting to do the same to ronan over the pig, the timelessness of the things gansey loves, the Power of command in his voice, a resurrection in the first place -and i was going to just say, yeah, it’s there, until i got to noah’s chapter again. -i think noah deserved at least one chapter per book (and maybe more during the raven king) and that would’ve made an already tight plot even tighter, especially in the raven king. (-i was also thinking that if gansey was glendower then something else would’ve happened when they found him, no i still do not know what)

-big respect though to maggiestief saying glendower had to either be dead or evil and by that page number there wasn’t enough room for him to be evil -and big respect to the fact that, of course it’s not about teens finding a hero, it’s about teens becoming heroes (these thoughts also pulled from her twitter reread), finding glendower (alive) would never have been narratively good or satisfying (-especially because it makes sense that glendower was dead all along -- if gwenllian was put to sleep wrong, who’s to say that glendower wasn’t, too?) -BUT, IT ALSO MAKES SENSE IF IT’S GANSEY -but then you have like. the whole time it wasn’t even glendower. it was noah -which is why i wanted more noah!!! to better lead to that!!!!!!! cause i feel like that kinda comes out of nowhere!!!!! -the balance of the magical and the real is just off in the reveal i think -man i don’t know. this is a lot of words.

-i also appreciated adam’s character arc better this time, which was really nice. -but i still feel no great attachment to ronan and adam’s relationship

-you know what. i want more mr. gray and maura -idk if i agree with him leaving henrietta. much like the previous paragraphs and my whole gripe with the raven king, it’s not terrible but i don’t think it’s done well, as well as it could’ve been, as well as the previous books -also! more adam and persephone would’ve been good

-i was rereading maggiestief’s tweets where she reread the books and i forget which thread this was in but she picked out one of the ‘character x says something that makes character y reevaluate every single interaction previously’ lines and she was like ‘that’s all these books are’ and i was like ‘YEAH MAGGIE. I FEEL LIKE I SEE THIS LINE EVERY SINGLE SECOND.’ and not necessarily in a good way -sometimes you can reuse a line and it is a parallel or a connection. sometimes you are just reusing a line over and over.

-she also mentions writing arguments from a point of, both characters are right, or think they’re right, or as right as they can be or something to that effect -which i really like, and i absolutely 100% see in her writing -and so i don’t know if this is just a me thing, because i have this obsessive need to backtrack through even the tiniest disagreements after the fact to calmly figure out where i’m coming from and acknowledge where the other person’s coming from, so while i like that every character comes from a place of ‘i’m right’ i feel like it leads to a lot of arguments left unresolved -but i think that’s just me feeling like everybody should always talk everything out as much as possible so -and like resolution doesn’t have to be a big dialogue acknowledgement -but i still didn’t feel like it left a lot of room for these characters to really work towards change -they do change! but i wanted to see it more

-oh hey so. did gansey successfully sell of monmouth? did ronan get a diploma anyway?

-me: ‘thing’ is ultimately a vague, unspecific word and should be used sparingly in a narration, much like ‘interesting’ maggiestief: /flinging out ‘thing’ all the time me: you know what, though???? sure, good for her

-i like henry. but he’s written terribly, the poor guy comes OUT OF NOWHERE too and should’ve shown up earlier more than his two times in blue lily lily blue, and adam and ronan’s super casual racism towards him is like..................................................................mostly unchallenged and really unnecessary -if a racist comment is going to remain unchecked and unchallenged by the narrative and the characters, what does it accomplish? -especially because it never ever shows up again or showed up before -and gansey just kind of scoffs it aside and blue doesn’t even really truly call it out which is like, the amount of other things gansey will call out???? the amount of stuff blue will call out??????? AND THEY JUST LET THAT GO?????? -so, again! it’s not necessary!! it does nothing!!! it just adds unchallenged racism that has no place!!!!!!!!!!!!

-also reading this time i felt like maggiestief went out of her way to just not say what race blue was -that shouldn’t be a thing you just repeatedly dance around and never confirm for your main character

-so my library still does not have the ebook for call down the hawk but i am vaguely considering buying it to read it but also....................i don’t know -i did read the first eight chapters because they were online and i’m like. Intrigued but also?????? Concerned. idk. idk

-looking at it from a distance i have the same concern with it that i do with king of scars. -do i think dreamer trilogy is necessary in the way that it explores things that are set up in the raven cycle and have big potential consequences? yes. the hunt for the ‘greywaren’, kavinsky proving that there are other dreamers, trying to make sure a dreamed thing can still exist if something happens to the dreamer, the possibilities and limits of dreamers, ronan trying to dream another cabeswater, ronan’s fear about what’s real and what isn’t/what he dreamed and what he didn’t dream, and maggiestief clearly loving writing ronan and wanting to write more of him -do i think those things are executed well in the dreamer trilogy? from what i’ve read about it, maybe not???? -especially re: ronan and adam’s character arcs????? -which i feel like, stupid and bitchy being picky about. -change and recovery do not happen in straight lines. but i think this kind of cycles back to the way she writes arguments with like, is it too unresolved to the point that no change, either positive or negative, is happening? -ugggg also makes me worry that i just wasn’t Reading it enough or thinking about it enough -my additional concern is that maggiestief should’ve maybe had firmer rules for what can and can’t be taken out of a dream (-yes i suppose that limiting the very nature of a dream goes against the power of ‘the dream’ so it makes sense for it to be limitless BUT i feel like especially the dreaming of people is gonna paint you into a corner if you’re not careful) -but i am also BIG worried re: the character arcs. -also where ronan’s character arc is after the raven king, do i think he would do the reveal in mr. impossible?? i...........do not know -well i didn’t think so AND THEN I READ OPAL which i kind of enjoyed, with reservations, which is mostly back to ‘is no change happening’ (-i love that opal is like, ‘ronan’s inner child’ or whatever it was and i liked her more this time around but last year when i read the raven cycle i was like ‘but what’s the point of taking opal out cause they just kind of shuffle her around?’ now, what was the point of taking opal out if they’re gonna put her back??? and actually almost COMPLETELY IGNORE HER in the short story????? there was so much potential there for her and ronan and it didn’t happen...........) -nightwash kinda just happened too, huh. (-in general ronan bringing his nightmares back with him is like. God Perfect) -but this all really takes me back to maybe there should’ve been limits on dreaming -also after reading the first eight chapters, i’m like -i 100% respect maggiestief for not wanting to rewrite the raven cycle and not wanting to just write about henrietta, i absolutely do -but it feels so strange to read about ronan and adam and not read about gansey and blue as well? -which isn’t TERRIBLE, but. -but when i see like, single lines from or little sections i’m like ‘oh that looks like a good time’ because i do like the way maggiestief writes because a great deal of it is so rhythmically poetic and beautiful, but so is a great deal of the raven king while still being disappointing. -i feel like i’m just gonna feel about it like how i feel about the raven king honestly -and well king of scars.......

-ANYWAY -might read it. might not. still going back and forth on this a lot. i was leaning towards, i’m gonna do it, but now i’m leaning more towards, i don’t want to, i want to keep the image of these characters where i like them, and right now i am aggressively combing through fanfic because i care a great deal about post-raven king trauma discussion and that’s mostly what i want at the current time

#lulu talks about the raven cycle #a tag now!!

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Bonus from Human Relations (Jello Salad, NASA, and Epic Jon Bitchery)

Short little thing thumped out in an hour last night. I was challenged to write a genuine argument and Elias eating Jello Salad. I succeeded in one of those things.

TW for discussions of, as you can probably expect, 1950s racism and maladaptive relationships

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

The name must have been familiar, carrying its own power - honestly, a peerage, man was annoying every time - because a waiter appeared from nowhere very quickly to take Jon’s hat, coat, and briefcase. Jon took the opportunity to straighten his fine suit and tie, and glance around the room.

Part of him couldn’t help but be proud: barely four years ago, it would have been impossible to step foot inside the finest restaurant in Washington, DC. Senators dined on these tables, creating backroom deals and manufacturing methods of state and politics, and Jon had been forced to rely on some creative means to work himself into those deals. These days, it was as simple as walking in through the front door. Of course, the entire room was staring at him extremely pointedly, but that was what the peerage, money, and reputation was for. Jon never much cared if people disliked him - he tended to only concern himself with people who could do something about it.

Everyone of import in Congress knew Jonathan Sims. A whisper on the wind, a knife in the dark: that had been Jon, always. It still was. But now, people looked at him with respect. Everyone did.

Everyone except, of course, the young man sitting at the pristinely white table that the waiter lead him to. Utterly unrecognized, but dimly familiar in the way that the endless parade of Jonah’s bodies always was: a thin, emancipated type of look, in his early twenties, with a thin but healthy comb of blonde hair and light muscle that would soon go unattended under Jonah’s careful attention. Hilariously, he was still short - would that man ever find a body over five feet seven?

Jonah smiled as Jon and the waiter approached, waving aside the waiter’s silent question of if it was really Jon that he had been waiting for. Honestly, the more things changed.

“Jonathan,” Jonah said warmly, “how long has it been?”

“Too long to say in polite company,” Jon said lightly, shaking his hand tightly. He was waiting for public hugs between men to go back in style. He missed it, slightly. “You look...different.”

Of course, Jonah noticeably preened. “I think this one has a nice, strong jaw, don’t you?”

“It’s...the jaw that the English peerage is famous for,” Jon said tactfully, sitting down on a delicate and fine chair. “What brings you to DC, Jonah? Normally you can’t be pried away from London with a crowbar.”

Jonah gleamed a bright white smile at him. “Can’t a man miss his close business partner after so long apart?”

“That would imply you’re capable of human emotion.”

“True, my mistake.”

The waiter appeared, and Jonah ordered something carelessly expensive and good wine as Jonathan carefully ordered a very refined and dignified cut of filet mignon. The wait on the food was short, of course, and Jon and Jonah wasted time by chatting about their business ventures. Jon’s was going extremely well, obviously. Jonah’s was extremely boring and slow, obviously.

“This industry boom is incredible. The technological innovation, the jump forward in progress, the persistent fear that it will all be taken away the minute we step out of the conformist line…” Jon picked up his fork as the plates of steaming and small portions were slid onto their table. “Mark my words, Jonah. 1953 will be our year.”

“My good man,” Jonah said sympathetically, “it’s well into 1957.”

“Years should be longer. Simon agrees with me.” Jon frowned, picking up a fork and cutting into his meat . “We’re investing in Simon and his projects, by the way.”

Jonah smiled over the rim of his wine glass, raising a delicate blonde eyebrow at Jon. “Wonderful of you to make these decisions for us.”

“When you insist on spending all of your time in the crude and backward England, I shall do as I please,” Jon said haughtily, only to see Jonah snicker into his glass. “I’ve been working with him to push his little initiative through Congress.”

“How quickly the prodigal son shuns his motherland.” Jonah ate slowly, never once looking away from Jon. He had never forgotten that tendency of Jonah - to keep his eyes always, always on Jon, as if keeping an eye on a dangerous predator. But in that hooded, dark gaze, a half-smile always tugged at his lips. In his better moments it seemed like fond indulgence; in his worse it appeared closer to a child watching his kitten chase a dangling piece of string. “A decade or two in the land of tomorrow and you’ve adopted a new home country?”

“It is a land of progress,” Jon hissed, jabbing at Jonah with his fork. “England is stagnant, putting on airs of civility and progress when it does little more than languish in its former greatness. Look what happened with the mess in India. What do we have left? A few impoverished African territories? Yemen? We have lost all ambition. The English still fancy themselves the greatest population in the world, when they’re little more than a bombed out shell. At least America had the decency to profit off war.”

“War is fairly pointless if there’s no profit in it,” Jonah agreed mildly. He sipped his wine again delicately. “So you figure that space is the next frontier, then?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is always in our best interest,” Jon said primly. “I was skeptical too, Jonah. But I met this lovely young engineer, a Ms. Johnson, and she’s opened my eyes. NASA is the future, and NASA is here. Only habit keeps you in England, now.”

For the first time, Jonah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A respect for history is far from a habit, Jonathan. Have some respect.”

“Your history, not mine. And you’re ancient history too,” Jon pointed out. He calmly ate his filet as Jonah sputtered. “Admit it. You’d walk around in the cravat you were buried in if you could.”

“The cravat is dignified. It’s hardly my fault if young men these days flaunt themselves in those dirty blue jeans.” Jonah sneered the word with marked disdain. “I can see their calves.”

Despite himself, Jon smiled into his filet. “Did it give you a case of the vapors?”

Jonah reversed his grip on his fork and held it casually within stabbing distance of Jon’s hand. “Do not get us kicked out of this establishment.”

“Were you forced to recline on your fainting couch with your smelling salts?”

“I have propiety,” Jonah hissed. Hilariously, his new body had the tendency to flush a little, and his ears were noticeably red. For the first time, Jon wished that he owned one of those camera things. “At least I don’t while away my hours with your harlot of a girl.”

Almost immediately, Jonah seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and Jon was distantly aware that his neon green eyes had taken on a dangerous tint. Jonah leaned back a little from where they both had been unconsciously leaning in, and Jon carefully readied his grip on his steak knife. “Watch how you speak of my wife.”

“Wife?” Jonah crossed his arms, tone dripping with condescension. “When did you marry that gold digger?”

“Thirty years ago,” Jon ground out, and Jonah blanched. “You were there.”

“Ah.” Jonah paused a beat. “Well, you know how time gets away from us.”

“You were my best man.”

“Maybe we can Christmas together!” Jonah said, faux-brightly. “Christmas has become quite popular lately. I can buy her one of those dishwasher things suburban women are always losing their minds in Macy’s about.”

“We have people for that,” Jon said condescendingly. “And we don’t live together, anyway. She’s experiencing the beatnik lifestyle with that little gang she runs around with. I think they write novels.”

Jonah stared at him blankly. “What is a beatnik?”

“I believe they’re similar to bohemians? I don’t understand either.” Jon wiped his mouth with the napkin again, having cleared his plate. He replaced his napkin, carefully keeping the grip on his knife. On the other end of the table, Jonah’s grip on his fork was just as tight. “She expressed no desire to be a politician’s wife, and I have no expectation of her being so.” Jonah snorted - quietly, subtly, but visibly. Jon narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re always a gas, Jon.” Jonah’s own plate cleared, he flagged a waiter to take their plates away and refill their wine. “A politician’s wife.”

“I am a politician,” Jon said testily.

“Mm-hm.”

“I pushed a large bill limiting freedom of speech just last month.”

“Of course.”

“I’m close, personal friends with Senator McCarthy.” Jon’s grip tightened on his knife until the wood bore into his palm. “Even if it’s in no - no official capacity, I’m making a real impact here. My service to ou - God has been extraordinary. Unlike you.”

There it was - a hit scored, a gauntlet thrown. Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Yes, because doing your job and collecting records for the Institute is a waste of time that has no relevance to God. As opposed to what, Jonathan? Wearing fine suits and putting on your own airs?”

Bright, sparking irritation flashed through Jon’s chest, but it was laced with something more. A hard defensiveness, bared teeth, curling up to prevent a weak belly. “I’m allowed the fine suits, Jonah! I am allowed to have this!”

“They’re just suits, Jon,” Jonah said condescendingly, eyes a mirror of false pity. Always pity, always false, always pretending he was weak, or - or -

“I have fought for everything, and -”

“Oh, not this drivel again.” Jonah wiped his hands on a linen napkin and balled it up, throwing it on the table and leaning back. “Yes, yes, you suffered, whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You’re so boring. Maybe it’s the nature of Archivists to be incredibly dull. My new man, Angus...whatever, he’s unbearably bland.” A glint of humor shone through his casual airs. “We’d benefit from you.”

“Oh, here it is again,” Jon said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He threw his hands up. “Every time, you harangue me, tell me my work is meaningless, and try to drag me back to your boring and tepid old library -”

“Who are you fooling, Jonathan?” Jonah retorted, also perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nobody but yourself, and you know it! You aren’t a politician. You aren’t anything.” At Jon’s deranged look, Jonah quickly backtracked. “You aren’t anything without God. Everything you have is because of it.” It was something that couldn’t be argued, and Jon huffed out a breath as he untensed. Jonah smiled faintly, lowering his hands as if he was placating Jon. “Not to say that you aren’t doing any good. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. But aren’t you more interested in being where you can do the most good? In being in the place of your highest productivity, your most effective worship? I understand America is...new, but it’s a dalliance. An infatuation. Which is more meaningful, Jonathan? A summer fling with an attractive woman, or a faithful wife who maintains your home and heart?”

Jon squinted at Jonah. “Georgie doesn’t like maintaining homes.”

“I do not understand your relationship with that woman. She hasn’t even given you any children, for lord’s sake.”

They were both incapable - how could an Avatar of the End give life? - but it was another tasteless thing to say, so Jon glared Jonah into submission over it again. For all Jon constantly heard praise over how impressive and charismatic and charming Jonah was, he was insufferably rude and tactless in reality. “Neither of us are very much in the business of allowing society to tell us how to live our lives. Society will pass, age, and die before we do. Why bow to it?” Jon smiled coyly. “Why bow to anything that ages?”

“You’re lucky you’re useful, you slimy little -”

But Jon just laughed, because he had won: Jonah had raised his voice in righteous anger that echoed across the suddenly deathly quiet restaurant, and the maitre’d was walking towards them very quickly. Jon laughed even longer as the waiter spoke in smooth, ubiquitous, but firm tones to Jonah: do try not to cause a disturbance with your companion, sir, this is a respectable establishment -

“As respectable as you when you cheated on your wife with the housekeeper?” Jonah snarled, and the maitre’d blanched. “Get out of my sight. Don’t come back unless you’re bringing us a plate of Jello salad.”

Jon laughed harder as Jonah sat back down, huffy and embarrassed. His ears were red again - how quaint. Jon had the feeling he’d grow to enjoy this James Wright body - as much as anybody could enjoy Jonah, of course. “Jello salad? Is that the nasty preserved food you people are all eating?”

“It’s modern cuisine,” Jonah said stiffly. “It’s quite good. Aren’t you the one who’s so fervent in preaching the gospel of modernism?”

“Not if it comes in Cool Whip and bologna, I don’t.” Jon pulled a mock sympathetic face. “You ought to be more careful, Jonah. It’s worth keeping an eye on your health. I heard that bologna helps promote aging.”

“I will spear you with this fork and cook you over a fire,” Jonah said pleasantly.

“My, are you balding so soon -”

In the end, they were thrown out anyway. It was for the best, anyway: Jon had no intention of eating that suburban trash.

That day was the last he ever saw of James Wright. It was the last he saw of Jonah Magnus, too - at least, until he received a phone call in 2015 saying that Gertrude Robinson was dead, and that he was required home to select a new Head Archivist.

It stood to reason that Jon wasn’t really necessary for the process. He had no part in choosing that woman Archivist - why would he be necessary for the next one?

“I am beginning to think,” Jonah said over the phone, voice strange and uncanny with Jonah’s familiar cadence in a reedy and light voice, “that I am incapable of appointing controllable Archivists. Every one you’ve picked has been blissfully, wonderfully boring, and the ones that I pick defy me, ruin my plans, and try to kill me. Get back here and choose one yourself.”

“But Jonah,” Jon had said, delighted, “you choose me as your Archivist.”

“I said what I said. Get back here, now. Please.”

And that, in the end, was what brought Jon home: the fact that Jonah hadn’t cajoled, manipulated, or tricked. It was the fact that he had asked. Had said please.

He had never said please to Jon before.

But maybe it was pointless anyway: Sasha James was no more malleable than her predecessor had been.

#georgie shows up as a beautiful but aloof woman in On the Road who won't sleep with sal because she's too beautiful and free #i'm trying to reconcile here 'jon & jonah like each other and are family'#with 'jonah has a paternalistic and controlling attitude where he just thinks jon should spend all of his time working for him #and when he inevitably wants independence and freedom they fight #still working on it!#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #my writing #human relations #jonathan sims #jonah magnus #*breakdances* literally every relationship in HR was controlling and manipulative and I have feelings about this

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ummadum · 4 years ago

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Why José Mourinho is problematic

I’m not a fan of José Mourinho and whilst I can come around to his tactics, I really doubt I will ever like him as a person.

Football is a very misogynistic, homophobic, racist and generally disrespectful place where people, especially powerful people, are not held accountable for their actions and words. This post is an accumulation of some of the very worrying things Jose has said and done over the years, that he has never acknowledged nor apologised for. I think that it’s important to keep these things in mind especially now, because the “José is a great person” idea is on the rise again. Whilst someone like Sergè, who also said some really disrespectful things, but someone who apologised for them and was willing to learn from his mistake, has his mistakes constantly brought up again, we are ignoring and burying all the things that are really wrong with our manager.

And if the club have asked Sergé to acknowledge and apologise for his statements (the right move), then we should do the same with Mourinho, who was much older when he said those things and had and has a lot more power and reach.

Homophobic

In 2012, as Real Madrid manager, Mourinho was caught on camera using “marocones” (which means faggot in English) to refer to the referees pre champion league match agains CSKA Moscow.

This is a link to the video [x] it’s about 20 seconds in.

The European Gay and Lesbian Sports Federation (EGLSF) released a statement [x] calling for action, which includes this:

Louise Englefield, Co-president of the EGLSF, an organisation representing over 17,000 lesbian gay bisexual and trans (LGBT) athletes across Europe, said: “Homophobia is unacceptable from anyone in football, much less from one of the game’s most senior figures. We are deeply disappointed that Mr Mourinho is casually using homophobic terms of abuse in his workplace. It is especially sad that these comments have been made during the International Football v Homophobia campaign week. This is a time during which the European football community should be joining forces to tackle discrimination and prejudice against lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people . As long-standing partners of the FARE network, we call on UEFA to take action and impose appropriate sanctions.”

And yet nothing ever happened, no apology, no acknowledgment and no sanctions.

Racist

Josés stance on racism is an interesting one, because he has publicly stated that he is opposed to direct racism, yet does apparently not believe that there is an underlying structural racism problem in the world and in football.

About coaching opportiunities for black coaches

In 2014, when questioned whether football needs a Rooney rule, which in the NFL ensures that ethnic minority candidates are adequately represented in the interview process for head coaching positions, he said this:

When asked if he felt football was doing enough to bring in black managers and whether he felt a quota should be introduced, Mourinho said: “There is no racism in football. If you are good, you are good. If you are good, you get the job.” “If you are good, you prove that you deserve the job. Football is not stupid to close the doors to top people. If you are top, you are top.” [x]

At the moment of publication of this article, only two of 92 clubs in the top four divisions in English football had a black manager. And only four black managers have ever worked in the premier league.

His statement warranted this lengthy response from the then FIFA Vice-President Jeffrey Webb. [x] Who points to a much larger problem of lack of enthnic people in power in football in general.

About Hair

“I want to push the young players on my team to have a proper haircut, not the Rastafarian or the others they have.”

I don't have the exact source but it’s mentioned in multiple “best of José quotes articles [x] [x]

Misogyny

Dr. Carniero

The most obvious place to start talking about Mourinho and his issues with misogyny is his treatment of Dr. Eva Carneiro who was the Chelsea first team doctor from 2009 until september 2015. During the first Game of the 15/16 season against Swansea Dr. Carneiro and chief physiotherapist Jon Fearn were called into the pitch by the referee to attend to Eden Hazard who had gone down. It was towards the end of the match and Chelsea had already had Courtois sent off and were therefore down to 9 men. Under the laws of the game, the medical staff is only allowed on the pitch if the referee summons them and once they have been summoned it's their duty to attend to the player. Mourinho took an issue with both of them rushing onto the field, because it left his team temporarily with 8 outfield players and so he allegedly called Dr. Carniero “filha da puta” which translates to “daughter of a bitch/whore”. He says he didn’t use the female version, but that he said “filho da puta” and that “swearing is a part of football”. This then led to a lot of discourse about whether it was actually abusive language towards a woman or not.

The more damning thing happened later in the press conference.

“I wasn't happy with my medical staff because even if you are a medical doctor or secretary on the bench, you have to understand the game.If you go to the pitch to assist a player, then you must be sure that a player has a serious problem. I was sure that Eden didn't have a serious problem. He had a knock and was very tired.My medical department left me with eight fit outfield players in a counter attack after a set piece and we were worried we didn't have enough players left.”

“You have to understand the game”, especially when aimed at a woman already comes with enough negative and misogynistic connotations. And there was no lack of “understanding of the game” in this instance, it was their duty to attend to the player according to the rules. Maybe he should have had a word with Eden Hazard about not feigning injuries instead.

But this is not where this ends. Following this incidence, Fearn (a Man) was removed from first team matches and Dr. Carniero was removed from all first team duties such as training sessions, matches and even entering the team hotel. And as Duncan Castles, one of Josés mouthpieces in the british press then reported:

Mourinho is said to have held reservations about Carneiro’s role within the first-team squad since at least last year. While there is no question about her professional abilities, the Portuguese coach was concerned that the dressing room dynamic was affected by the presence of a female. According to a source, some players had expressed misgivings to the coaching staff about the set-up, arguing that it forced them to alter their usual behavior in a team environment. [x]

The same women that had worked with Chelsea's first team for 6 years and under 4 different managers just suddenly became a problem with Josés arrival. Maybe there were some players that complained about her, but José should have told them to get over it. Sadly, I can’t link you to the original source of these quotes because the website does not exist anymore but here are some more articles referring to the same quotes. [x] [x]

Her dismissal went to court and she and Chelsea ended up settling the case.

This whole thing ties into the larger issue of misogyny in football, this is an interesting article about how 2/3 s of the women in football face sexist discrimination. [x]

Montse Benitez

Rafael Benitez’ wife Montse Benitez made a joke, in 2015, about Rafa cleaning up Josés messes because Rafa just got the Real Madrid Job and she said “we tidy up his messes”, but afterwards added that it was understandable because there are only so many top clubs out there.

The first part of his response is very much ok:

“The lady is a bit confused, with all respect. The only club where her husband [directly] replaced me was at Inter Milan, where in six months he destroyed the best team in Europe at the time.”

The second part however wasn’t:

“And for her to think about me and to speak about me, I think she needs to occupy her time — and if she takes care of her husband’s diet, she will have less time to speak about me.”

He told her to get back into the kitchen and that is such a backwards thing to say to women. [x]

Generally Women

In 2013, whilst complaining about Arsenal players complaining to the officials he said

“ you know they like to cry” and then added “Football is for men, or for women with fantastic attitude.”

José mourinho used being a woman as an insult to emasculate Arsenal players. Which is incredibly sexist.

His post match tirade also includes some lovely xenophobia for good measure, which is a bit hypocritical coming from José. (I want to remind all Spurs fans that there was massive outrage after the United match, when similar criticism was aimed at Lamela)

"You know, they like to cry," Mourinho said. "That's tradition. But I prefer to say, and I was telling it to the fourth official, that English people – Frank Lampard, for example – would never provoke a situation like that. "Players from other countries, especially some countries, have that in their blood. So, if there is contact or an opponent is aggressive, they don't keep going. But this is English football. Foreign players are bringing lots of good things. They come here because they are talented. But I prefer English blood in football. English blood in this situation is: 'Come on, let's go.' Mikel's tackle is hard and aggressive but football is for men or for women with fantastic attitude. It's true."

[x]

Generally problematic things he has said

Him calling Wenger a voyeur is not included but he did end up actually apologising for that.

2006: "Sometimes you see beautiful people with no brains. Sometimes you have ugly people who are intelligent, like scientists," [x]

Me being a scientist probably makes me even more annoyed with this statement, but honestly can we get rid of this stupid idea.

2005: “Ricardo Carvalho seems to have problems understanding things, maybe he should have an IQ test, or go to a mental hospital or something.” [x]

Statements against him that he took to court

A journalist for spanish newspaper Marca wrote about José during his time at chelsea:

“the type of person who would flee after knocking someone down"

A letter from Mourinho's lawyers then read:

"In our eyes this phrase is... degrading and was used in a manner which was completely unnecessary in the critique."

Chelsea also took action against a former Barcelona director after he posted the following on twitter during a match against Manchester City.

"It's lamentable the psychopath celebrating goals as if he was a player."

[x]

Which is utterly ironic when taking all the things he has said about others into account.

A lot of these quotes are older, but judging from his recent choice of words, the constant emasculation of his players also shown in a documentary meant to make him look good, he might not be saying these things publicly anymore but the subtext and undertones still remain, therefore not really making it look like he has learned from his past mistakes and has become a better person in the slightest. Also, these quotes are just the tip of the iceberg of what kind of a human being José Mourinho really is. He is an incredibly manipulative individual that chooses all of his words, especially those to the press, really carefully and if these quotes are things that he chose to say deliberately, then I’m worried about what other opinions he has that he does not voice to the public. But if someone treats him like he does others he has an issue with it.

He can be an interesting individual to watch and his amount of arrogance can be fairly entertaining, but his general lack of respect for his players and staff shouldn't be overlooked especially in a world which is trying to move towards the future. And a footballing world at least saying that they are trying to remove discrimination from the game.

I don’t want him to be sacked, but I would really like to remind people of the kind of person he is and for him to acknowledge these statements and apologise for it. But because this is football and Agueros actions with the lines-woman were dismissed because he is “a good person” I doubt that that will ever happen.

#jose mourinho #spurs #my dislike for this man is rooted in real life issues #just because he is nice to your fave does not mean that he is a good person #can we please just not rewrite history and forget about his problematic past when he has showed zero signs of having learnt #Yes he says some funny things #but he also says some really really bad things that shouldn't be forgotten!

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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BFCD Reviews by Nesha: Hournite (CW’s Stargirl)

HEY! When was the last time I made time for one of these? Actually, whenever I initially asked that, it had been a HOT minute and I think I’ve done one since I started this. Anyways. I was gonna do a review of the show itself or of Beth Chapel’s portrayal by the ADORABLE and talented Anjelika Washington BUT... A bitch fell in love with a ship that might not go anywhere (Yet, they can’t stop me from dreaming), so HERE I AM, hopefully on Beth’s birthday of May 15th to rave and such for a moment, if y’all let me.

Beth Chapel (Dr. Mid Nite) and Rick Tyler (Hourman) who make up the seeming fan favorite ship called “Hournite.”

Disclaimer for somebody who stumbled across this post because of the fandom tags - I am an independent partaker of this content, not part of the fandom, and my audience in particular is not for everybody. SO. If you may have been criticized in the past for casual racism, tone deafness to Black women’s concerns or accused of misogynoir or antiblackness, leave now. If you don’t like cussing, AAVE, general ratchetness and mean lesbian energy, you too might wanna go. A bitch can be eloquent, but I type like I talk, at times, so it is what it is and I don’t curate for kids, dudes, or nonblacks. That’s just what that is.

NOW. To my homies that now how I act. Let’s. Get. Started. @andromidagalaxie @sleepyfangirl18 @shslargue Who TF else watched this show? (IDEK if Krystal watched this, but she be present for all my reviews even though Tumblr REFUSES to let a bitch tag her)m but I stay sending these to her because we love Krystal in this place.

OKAY, a bitch might be finna be all over the place. Because I’m not going step by step down the line of every single interaction. I'ma start where I kinda got the shipping getcha gotcha, and that was the scene where Rick is literally ready to go beat a bitch ass and Beth puts her body in front of his person to be like, "No, no. We not doin that, Hun."

He really looked her right in her face and basically told her she wasn't shit and she was like, "Mm, okay. Hurt people hurt people," and I'm on the borderline of being like, "Hold up White Devil," and THE VERY thin line that crosses into "Poor Lil' Boy." But, Miss Chapel can handle herself. Without saying something hurtful back, like my ass woulda did, and y'all know me, I'da scalped that boy, talking to me like that.

Beth instead shuts Buddy down with a smart chick observation and a soft chick assertation. "You hurt so much that you want to hurt others. Is that it Rick?"

This part mattered so much, because I bet nobody ever said to him that he was hurting. They've probably called him a delinquent bad kid said he was angry said he was violent all this other s***.

And she straight up said is it that you're hurting that you want to talk to me that way? And he can't do nothing but stop because she didn't do nothing to him, and what he's mad about is another friend being hurt... so he has to think about the fact that in his anger, he's hurting somebody else (whose also supposed to be his friend, or AT LEAST at this point his teammate) who didn't do nothing to him. And instead of her being like "you a piece of s***." She said is it because you're hurting? People grossly underestimate the power in noticing somebody's pain.

And after that shit, did he or did he not get him some ack right when he addressed her? I coulda missed it, but I don't recall him talking to her crazy again. Like, he was stern whenever he said that he wasn't helping her with whatever that was, but he was also right next to her on the couch, working cozily on his daddy notebook, so... 🤷🏾‍♀️

Like... Nobody else said "Great job Beth," so I was very soft. Even though she was like, "Me and Chuck!" Still. Episode 1 Rick wasn't gon' give you a complement, and I... Did I see him give another compliment to another person? He mighta and I missed it, but until I notice it, that's what happened.

And the group hug after the battle. That was probably the first hug Rick had in years... Which in my mind says that one of his first good touches in a while (before that, yanno) was carrying Beth when Yolanda YEETed her out Cindy window.

Can you imagine Rick like, being very confused as to how he had somebody in his bubble like that and wasn't consumed by anger? 🤣 Like... Wait a minute, now. Some touching is soft and tender... "Got you," even was said softly and this like... Right around the time, shortly after the time he was like, "What yo ass gon' do to stop me," so like... She got him together right, and didn't even have to talk crazy to him to do it. Which, with that bum ass uncle, we can assume he's used to, whenever he makes a mistake.

Headcanons: If somebody fw her, he'd be ready to beat TF out of them. She makes sure that he eats every meal, cooking for him or preparing snacks.

Listen. I keep thinking about how Rick whimpered, "Don't leave me," the last time he saw his parents and the fact that Beth was trying SO HARD to hold on to her parents and came to the conclusion that she understands why Rick's always so mad because he lost his parents and wouldn't they just... Always hold on to each other because of their reluctance to lose the ones they love? Until somebody prove me wrong, that's what happened.

Hey. Beth getting Rick to test food out whenever she feeds it to him, but fussing when he steals it and she's not done. Not mean fussing tho..

When was the last time Rick had a birthday cake or a party? The "singles," the "losers:" we seen they home life. His parents dead, Yolanda's is santimonious, and Beth's are trying to cut back on her. That isolation probably makes for more understandable connections between them and since all three of them did Christmas at Court's, like... This is family and Court and Yolanda have their hearts already occupied where we leave off, so... My. Heart. Is. Open. For. Hournite.

I'm ready for whatever the show gives us, or don't give us, because I'm not that much of a mystic, to expect the Black girl to get canonical shipping in a series like this, but I also do not give a fuck, because bitch its canon somewhere and we gon' ride that shit for all it's worth. Who finna stop us?

Anyways, thank you to whoever read this whole lil' rant, to all the Hournite content creators, to all the shippers that tell us about the canon version because we ain't got the comics at home, to all the Black girls that get to see a superhero with a whole ass afro!!! And friends and associates who intend to take my hand and stay on this path with me for as long as my ass be on it.

Happy Birthday to Beth Chapel, human sunshine, cutie patootie, Rick's Poundcake. If you know, you know.

#Hournite #Stargirl CW #Beth Chapel #Rick Tyler #BFCD Reviews by Nesha #Beth x Rick #headcanons #beth chapel headcanons #Beth Chapel commentary #Girl That's Queuedt #Happy Birthday Beth #The Brains of the Operation

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Karma is a bitch, Chapter 1 (Multi ship) - Flor

A/n: Olá! I’m your resident ball of stress and anxiety posing as a your average brazilian uni student trying my hand at writing fic in english after literal years writing solely on my mother tongue, how yall doing? Anyway that is just a very long way of saying i can’t promise perfect english and that i’m very nervous and very excited about posting this. There will be a lot of ships and queens so i’m just going to tag them as they appear, thanks and enjoy!

Summary: Manila being in love with her best friend is just proof that Karma is real and getting back at her for laughing at her coworkers and teasing them over their lack of guts to act on their obvious feelings. Surely that’s it, a cruel joke of the universe and something she will get over with time so in meantime she just needs to focus on something that isn’t Raja. Naturally playing cupid is exactly what she needs.

Chapter summary: Raja breaks up with her girlfriend, swears off dating and Manila has a existential crisis, or several, but who is counting anyway?

***

Manila is not a useless lesbian.

Well she is a lesbian. And okay she can be a bit slow and useless in certain circumstances, sometimes hidden jokes and social clues will fly over her head, but it happens with everyone okay, it’s not that big of a deal. But those two characteristics together? No ma’am, Manila considers herself a pretty sharp lesbian, especially since she works with several textbook representations of useless lesbians. Her workplace is filled with useless lesbians.

RuPaul’s Look Race started small and easily lost in the big Los Angeles scenario, a modeling agency born of spite aimed to the outcasts of the fashion world like the founder herself and it quickly won over the hearts of all the models who used to the racism and homophobia of the fashion industry saw themselves drawn to what promised to be a safe accepting spot. With care it grew exponentially in a short space of time attracting not only clients but also employees who failed to check most of the box on privilege, Manila was hired on the third year of existence of the agency and she saw as it grew and grew until they became the name in everyone’s mouth, the first place that LGBT models turned to, expanding its wings until they started to gather to artists in general rather than only models.

They are an one of a kind business, no one does as much as them, no one attends to so many different artists in so many different fronts all at once so of course they are a big deal, especially when you consider how inclusive they are.

It makes for a very livid, very gay, workplace and Manila would not trade it for the world. The longest living unofficial rule of the place is “LGBT+ until proven straight or cis” because she could easily count how many of her coworkers don’t fit under the rainbow. It feels good to be out and proud of her sexuality, her own personal bubble in a world that wasn’t always kind to her. One of the most unexpected consequences of working on the gayest business in America however is the ridiculous amount of pinning she gets to watch unfold before her daily.

Manila can give you examples of actual useless lesbians until you are begging her to stop and she knows as a fact that she is nothing like them, she doesn’t do those things they do, she knows how to flirt and she damn well knows when someone is flirting with her, and more than that she always knows what to do in those situations.

Until now.

Because Raja broke up with her girlfriend and Manila is facing a life crisis where she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

It’s not like this is the first time this has happened, it’s nothing really new to be honest, Manila has know Raja for almost 10 year and she cannot count how many partners her friend had in those, this is far from the first breakup Manila has lived through and at this point she knows their routine by muscle memory alone.

Raja for someone who is actually quite polished and has her life together has quite a problem with keeping a stable relationship for long periods of time, Manila is sure that in those 10 years of friendship the longest relationship lasted a bit more than 2 years, but at the same time Raja is the type of person who doesn’t like being single for too long what may explain everything.

So Manila is well versed in post-breakup Raja.

She knows that her friend was the one to end it simply because she texted her asking to come over, it’s just one of her things. If her partner was the one to break things off Raja would seek Raven’s company so both of them could curse and complain and Raven in all her sharp tongued abrasive self would point out all the flaws in the ex until Raja felt better about it, they always showed up with killer hangover after those talks but the older woman always looked better and less down after yet another rejection when Raven was done with her.

But when Raja was the one to break it off she always went to Manila because Raven couldn’t see the point in getting sad over something you choose, for good reason, to call off. Manila knew that just because you were the one to pull the plug doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting and sad to see it gone no matter how bad things had become or how better in the long run the decision is.

If she is selfishly honest Manila sorta likes those post breakup hangouts they have, she likes the intimacy and closeness they bring to their friendship. Raja is not shy with her affection but she hardly is the most touchy person either so the younger woman relishes on those nights where Raja will curl her long limbs in her couch touching Manila’s side and resting her head on her shoulder, sometimes playing with her fingers or just holding her hand.

It’s good, Raja always smells like subtle spicy perfume and her skin is soft and impossibly warm at all times. It’s also very normal and very platonic. It’s not like how Katya will take any and every excuse available to touch Trixie even if for a few seconds, hands itching towards her every time they get together to discuss something or just casually talk, the blonde Russian cleaning her schedule for those meetings and pretending no one knows about it.

It’s not like that for Raja and Manila. If Manila rests her own head over Raja’s, well it’s just a comfort thing, and if she takes a deep breath so the other’s perfume is all she can smell, who can blame her? It is a good perfume.

So this time is no different from any other time. Raja shows up at her door, defeated expression looking so out of place in her angular features, Manila ushes her inside and they almost cuddle on the couch while some stupid comedy plays in the background.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispers softly even if it’s not necessary.

She feels more than sees Raja sighs.

“Not sober.”

“Gotcha.”

Manila nudges her a bit so she can get up already missing the warmth and rushing to her kitchen so she can find the wine she knows it’s Raja’s favorite. That’s another normal, completely platonic thing Manila does, keeping Raja’s favorite drinks and food around even if she isn’t particularly fond of it herself.

It’s not like she is like Shea who buys or makes tea for Sasha every time she gets coffee for herself, completely unprompted, just so she can have a excuse to go to her and chat for a few moments, smiling dumbly as the Russian smiles that bright kind smile of hers that could melt ice and melts Shea’s heart like butter. It’s not like that because Manila doesn’t go out her way to buy those things or uses them as an excuse to talk to her friend, she just buys it with her own groceries to keep it around if needed, and it’s good to have food your friend likes around right? Especially for moments like this!

Patting herself on the back for being such a prepared friend Manila goes back with two glasses and two bottles of wine feeling like one is not going to be enough. The smile that Raja gives her when she reads the label could make flowers grow.

She pours them full glasses before sitting back on the couch, Raja automatically curling back into her side and even if her elbow is kinda uncomfortably pressed against her side and her hair is trickling her neck Manila would never make any movement or say anything to make her change positions. They drink in silence, finishing several cups before Raja lets out another long sigh.

“I broke up with her after a date. It just kind of hit me as we were leaving the restaurant that we spent basically the whole meal in silence, she kept looking at her phone and it didn’t bother me at all. We used to turn out our phones during dates.”

“I’m sorry Raj, falling out of love sucks balls but you know it was for the best for the both of you. It wouldn’t be fair to keep going like this, relationships shouldn’t be something you are having out of convenience, and hey now you both are free to find someone new.”

Saying those words leave a sour taste in her mouth, the idea of Raja once again going out on mindless dates with random women, falling in bed with them until one catches her attention enough for her to try yet again to have an actual relationship, is making her heart clench in her chest.

Platonically of course.

Manila is simply tired of seeing her friend meet dead end after dead end and find herself on her or Raven’s couch drinking away the pain. It’s not like there is any hidden motive for that feeling, Manila knows herself, knows her own heart, if there was anything more than best friend concern she would surely know. It’s probably not different from what Jujubee and Raven feel for each other.

“It’s the same thing every fucking time Nila, it doesn’t matter if I’m the one dumping or the one dumped the reason is always the same we just fall out of love, for fucks sake why can’t i get regular messy breakups once in a while? Why can’t I get cheated on?”

“Why exactly would you want to get cheated on? I, just like every normal person, prefer clean breakups but you seem to think they are overrated.”

“Like you are anywhere near being normal Miss Pineapple Dress for a Fancy Work Party” Raja laughs lightly, Manila feeling it with her body

“That dress was fucking awesome and i will not be shamed for being a fashion icon ahead of my own time.”

“Whatever you say” The fond amusement in the taller woman makes her smile wider, allowing herself to relax even more against the warm body

“You still didn’t answer why somehow getting cheated on would be better than a nice clean breakup.”

“Because then i could explain why it happened, I could get mad at someone else because it wouldn’t be my fault.” Raja’s voice is softer than it was the whole night, barely over a whisper “You know why i got dumped last time? Because she said i was never really there, that i never allowed her to actually know me.”

Automatically and uncaring about the awkwardness of the position Manila throws her arms around Raja hating the way her voice sounds and hating the words even more. Maybe she is biased, maybe she isn’t really trying to put herself in the ex girlfriends shoes, but she just can’t phantom why anyone would say that about Raja of all people.

Her best friend is intense in all the best ways, she puts herself into everything she does to the point someone will eventually have to drag her away from her projects, she may look unapproachable and regal with her beautiful features and high fashion clothes but she is one of the biggest dorks Manila knows, full of passion and bad jokes. And yes she is a bit hard to know, it takes time to take her down her walls and see beyond the carefully crafted poise and sharp words, but she is worth every minute spent trying.

“And i guess she was right, i guess i do this all the time because it’s the same thing now, someone falling out of love with me because i wasn’t giving them enough. Maybe I’m just not meant for this.”

“This?” Manila tightens her arms around Raja like she is trying to squeeze that resigned tone away

“Love, relationships, the whole nine yards. Meaningless one night stands are clearly more of my thing since they are the one thing I can successfully manage.”

“That’s not true! You of all people shouldn’t be selling yourself this short you big idiot, you are amazing and people should be lucky to have a shot with you. You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“Are you taking life advice from those stupid romcoms Vanessa is obsessed with? Because it sounds like it.” Her words lack the necessary bite to sound like a insult even if she snorts disbelieving and Manila slaps her chest without breaking the hug

“Okay edgy lord maybe you should watch one of those and lift your spirit because this talk is not like you at all.”

She goes for a joking tone, poking Raja again but is glad the older woman can’t see her face and the way her brows are furrowed. This is new. Unfamiliar and uncomfortable in a way that those post breakups encounters never were, not even in the beginning of their friendship where Manila was still testing the waters and what worked with her friend. Raja was always sad, though she only cried twice in 10 years, and her smiles never quite reached her eyes even if they softened a little when Manila said something funny or ridiculous, but never like this, never truly defeated in this raw way. Raja hardly ever gets this low in her self esteem anymore and never about her love life and the fact that she is, is throwing Manila out of her loop, this is new territory.

“Maybe I should take a page out of Violet’s book and just give dating up altogether, she is young but is clearly into something.”

“Really? Because as far as i know if Violet wasn’t so open about how anti dating she is then either Pearl or Max would have totally already made a move and we wouldn’t have to watch them dancing around each other like that.”

“But that’s the thing, the problem with Violet doing it is that someone is in love with her and I think we have established that no one is in love with me.” And before Manila can say the obvious Raja beats her to it “And i don’t think anyone ever will.”

I am.

The thought almost makes its way out of her mouth before Manila stops herself, biting her tongue so hard she can taste blood.

It comes out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time, a certain that just overtakes her body and sets on her bones like it belongs there, like it was just laying under the superficie waiting to make itself known. Her breath catches on her throat and she must make some sort of chocked sound because Raja cranks her neck to look at her, sad eyes and soft smile making Manila want to scream.

“It’s okay Nila, don’t take me too seriously, I had a couple of shots before coming here so I’m just being drunk.”

Manila just nods, words stuck in her throat in fear of what will come out if she let them out, Raja sighs again and even in normal circumstances her words would not make the younger woman less worried, the excuse of drunkness not erasing the self deprecating voice and sad tired eyes, but now they just make her heart ache even more.

God.

This is fucked up.

Fucked up and so, so right.

Of course she is in love with Raja, of course there is nothing really platonic in a lot of her actions, in the way something ugly and heavy curls inside of her when Raja gets another girlfriend, in the way that her chest feel warm when Raja smiles at her in delight, how her laugh can light up her day, how her hugs can make the bad days look less dark, how having her arms around her feels good, how warm she feels in the places they are touching.

Manila thanks whatever deity is watching her that the realization stucks her when Raja is already drunk and half asleep, curling even more on the couch, letting her weight rests fully against Manila as her breathing gets deeper, and that she didn’t decide to lay down facing her because Manila doesn’t know how she would hide her reaction.

Karma is definitely a bitch she decides almost hysterically as her bitten tongue slowly stops bleeding.

This is karma for laughing at her friends, she is sure it is, what else can explain the universe punishing her with this? With those feelings? Clearly she cracked one too many jokes about Crystal and Gigi being oblivious, or rolled her eyes too much when watching Shea and Sasha, or Trixie and Katya, or maybe she snickered too loudly watching Vanjie and Brooke or maybe she gave Jinkx shit romantic advice or something she can’t even remember. Maybe, she muses, it’s a combination, all those little things piling up until karma decided to get her for them all at once and landed her in this mess.

She is in love with Raja.

Wonderful, clever, talented, beautiful Raja who struggles to maintain meaningful romantic relationships.

Raja who is one of her best friends. One who basically decided to give up dating 10 minutes ago.

What the fuck Manila is supposed to do now?

~~~~~~~~

Manila decides after a bad sleep night in an uncomfortable position in her not so soft couch that the best course of action is doing nothing.

She needs… She needs time to process this sudden epiphany, to analyze their interactions and her actions and try to pinpoint when exactly platonic friendship transformed itself into something she never expected or intended to, something she is too afraid to name. Gather her thoughts and her emotions in a more organized way than the panic and confusion of last night.

She also needs time for Raja to get over the breakup, again this is a familiar scenario and Manila knows what will happen, has watched as her friend tried to drown herself into work until the sting of another failed relationship disappeared multiple times and understand that is the worst possible moment to try to act on those…. feelings. If, and that is a big gigantic if, Raja takes her mind away from fashion for one second to seriously consider Manila’s hypothetical words there is the risk of being a rebound fuck, a distraction.

Manila is not sure of many things about those feelings but one that she knows with clarity is that she doesn’t want to be a one night stand, a band aid to help with loneliness, Manila is not that girl who will let herself be used as a mean to something else, she has more self love than that. She wants the real thing, the full experience. If she can’t have that she will not settle for scraps, her heart is not strong enough to deal with that.

So when her alarm blasts, too soon she laments as her eyelids seem to be glued shut and her brain protests that she sleep too little and too badly, she is relieved Raja choose to end things in a Sunday because that means Manila will have work to distract her mind and stop her from spending a day long pity party overthinking all her feelings like a lunatic.

At least she hopes so.

Raja is already up and moving around in the kitchen by the time Manila drags her body away from the couch feeling places she didn’t know could hurt screaming in protest. Shit, she needs a better couch, she feels bad for letting her friends sleep in that now. The dark haired woman makes her way to the kitchen and is not prepared to have the air sucked out of her chest by the vision in front of her.

It’s ridiculous. It’s not something new, some groundbreaking scenario that she never got to witness, some hidden part of Raja that she didn’t know existed. It’s ordinary, familiar in a way that makes her insides all warm and fuzzy and that’s the problem.

It’s familiar, it’s domestic.

There is something in the way that Raja moves around her small kitchen making toast and sipping coffee from a bright yellow mug, clearly fresh showered with her hair still damp, not even pausing to think where things are or what ingredients Manila will have that is so right. It feels right to have her there, so comfortable and at peace in a place Manila considers so intimate, so personal. Raja looks at home and the domesticity of it makes something in Manila ache.

This is what she wants, she realizes, to wake up and find Raja sipping coffee or to wake first and make her something to eat or to spend a lazy morning together.

“Good morning sleepy head.” Raja says when she realizes Manila is there snapping the other back to reality “You know seeing how late you set your alarm I can totally understand how you are always late.”

“My alarm is set at the perfect time, it’s not my fault LA’s traffic is more unstable than Gia Gun’s eyelashes.” The answer comes easily and she thanks a higher power that she can act like a actual human around Raja

“Well maybe that’s a sign that you should set it earlier, it wouldn’t kill to arrive earlier in the good days.”

“And how would you know? I don’t think you even know your actual work hours anymore.”

“Raven told me” Raja smiles cheekily, sipping from her mug to hide it “Want me to make you some toast while you get ready?”

“Sure”

She says and does her best to not look like she is bolting the fastest she can because while it’s the truth it doesn’t mean she wants Raja to realize it. It’s the domesticy again, the easiness and calm that comes with having Raja there offering to make fucking toast like she belongs in her home.

Manila lets her forehead rest against the shower wall as the water falls on her back trying to get her shit together before she faces her best friend and new found love again. She will not freak out, she will not over analyze shit or stare like some sort of lovesick fool with no self control.

She is a grown up woman and she knows how to behave when she is attracted to someone.

At least that is what she tells herself and what she fails to do almost instantly. Because as Manila dresses herself she can’t stop thinking about the fact that Raja has clothes at her place. Clothes. And Manila has clothes at Raja’s place as well and that’s… that’s not really a really platonic thing is it? Manila doesn’t have a drawer full of her things in her parent’s house for fucks sake.

This is karma she swears to herself, this is karma for laughing at poor airheads Crystal and Gigi for being oblivious, this is the universe getting back at her and making her the stereotypical useless lesbian who doesn’t even really she is in love and practically dating her best friend.

But at the same time she can’t help but wonder if that means something as big as she thinks. So they have clothes at each other’s houses and Manila doesn’t do that with anyone else, but what if that’s something regular with Raja? Does she leave things in Raven’s or Delta’s houses too? Is that something special they share or it’s just one of those Raja things that make Manila smile fondly when she thinks no one is watching?

Fuck, Manila is really turning into one of those people. She makes a sound of frustration in her chosen shirt, pressing the fabric to her face and trying to block everything but the pleasant smell of the shirt and take a few deep breaths to again get her shit together.

When she finally finishes her makeup and makes her way back to the kitchen she is ready to face the day and suppress her feelings like a normal woman.

Things go smoothly after that and Manila shots down the voice in her mind whispering that that is a good sign, they eat among small talk and Raja mentions her breakup only once when she mentions her ex will go pick her things when she’s at work and she’s relieved they will not have to have another face to face conversation, Manila holds her hand and squeeze giving Raja her best comforting smile not letting go until the smile she gets in answer doesn’t look fabricated.

On the way to work their topic of conversation changes as they begin discussing their agendas for the day trying to squeeze a joint break. They don’t have many reasons to interact during work hours, Raja, along with Bianca, run their fashion department dealing with clothing most of their non model clients while Manila works exactly with the modeling section of the business and since both are high up on the hierarchy there is really not much leeway to go hang out at each other side of the building, having to settle for lunch wherever work allows them to leave at the same time.

“You want to go to that new Italian place down the block?” Manila asks as they get close enough to see their workplace towering among others

“Rain check.” Raja says as she twists her thick hair in a bun that somehow manages to look elegant rather than messy “Willam got a show coming up and i have to meet her to brainstorm concepts for the looks.”

“Oh… we can go after you finish?”

“We are meeting for lunch actually.”

“Right…” Manila kicks herself as soon as the word leaves her mouth, her disappointment so thick she can almost taste it and it’s fucking ridiculous

“We can go tomorrow if you like?”

“Maybe, we have a photoshoot tomorrow but it looks like Dahlia is sick and if she can’t make it i need to be there to find a quick replacement.” Ugh sometimes being the official problem solver sucks

“That’s okay we can just try again another day.” Raja smiles at her then, all white teeth and soft eyes, and her hand rests on her shoulder as if she can sense that Manila is unhappy

And maybe she can because if her face is showing half of what she is feeling then Manila is officially looking like a pooting teenager and that is not a flattering look on someone her age. Again she feels like screaming because the universe is clearly trying to rub her face in her own obliviousness about her own feelings, again this is not new, there were times they had to cancel lunch plans when the other was already seated because something urgent came up, and neither is the disappointment and mildly annoyance in her chest when she realizes she will have to spend a day without sharing a part of her day with Raja, but now, now that she is painfully aware of the exact nature of her feelings there is another layer to that disappointment that she was unaware of and doesn’t really like.

It doesn’t help that it’s Willam that Raja is going to meet.

Don’t get her wrong, Willam may be a diva and a pain in the ass, the cause of many tears on their PR department because of her crude and biting humour, but she is not the worst client they ever had and once you get used to her particular brand of vulgarity there is a lot of fun to have with her. But Willam is, above everything, a self proclaimed slut.

There is an ongoing joke that the reason she gets so many gigs as an actress in crime shows is because she doesn’t really have to act as a prostitute or young slut, she just has to be herself. Willam is very confident and very comfortable in her sexuality and Manila is actually impressed with that, she really is, but that doesn’t mean that she wants that energy around post breakup Raja right after Manila discovered she has more than platonic feelings for her.

It’s a receipt for disaster, well, actually it’s receipt for sex what in her books are exactly the same thing.

She forces that stupidity down as hard as she can. There is pinning and then there is suffering for imagining your… crush having sex with someone else and Manila is not going to be that person, she really isn’t. The younger woman sighs quietly and grips the steering wheel glad that Raja is too busy dealing with loose strands of hair to pay attention to her reactions.

“If i’m free tomorrow i will shoot you a text” She says going for a smile

“Great! I will keep my agenda free then.”

Manila’s heart totally doesn’t skip a beat.

She is so fucked.

#rpdr fanfiction #manila luzon #raja gemini #rajila #lesbian au #pining #karma is a bitch #flor #concrit welcome #submission

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gloves94 · 4 years ago

Text

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 6

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Bullying!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

It didn't take Nel long to realize that her peers would not warm up to her anytime soon. Her lack of a blood status and the fact that she was a graceless orphan made her untouchable in their eyes. She could still remember the look on Crabbe and Goyle's faces when she was sorted into Slytherin. The two looked as if they were ready to warmly welcome her to the House with a nice shiner.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, also known to Nel as Malfoy's personal bodyguards were rather dull. They never said or did much besides eat and tail after their leader. Honestly, she wasn't sure if either of them actually knew how to read. Both of course, blue blooded lads just like the rest of the lot.

The other girls in her year seemed to go way back to kindergarten. It even sounded like all of their parents seemed to be friends. The girls shunned her out of gossip, gift exchanges and other private gatherings that they had. The fact that she was a Slytherin, and the house tended to have a reputation, made it hard to make friends from other houses. There was also the issue that Nel and Pansy seemed to be constantly butting heads, competing or bickering with each other since day one.

Daphne Greengrass was Pansy's right hand. However, their relationship seemed to be unstable with Pansy consistently wanting to one up the witch with backhanded passive aggressive envious jabs at her. Greengrass didn't seem to notice or care, Nel hadn't decided which one. She spent most of her day narcissistically combing and brushing her enviable blonde hair.

The only person in the girl's dormitory that seemed to be decent to her was Tracey Davis. Tracey's father was a Quidditch commentator because of that the girl was obsessed with the Pudlemere United and was often wearing their jerseys. Her mother was a Muggle which made her a Half-Blood and because of that some of the other girls looked down on her too. She talked about Quidditch constantly and even boasted how she would be trying out for it next year.

The first year Slytherin boys were not much different.

Despite the constant company of Crabbe and Goyle it seemed like Malfoy's best friend was a tall boy with dark features named Blaise Zabini. Blaise was charming and had no issue talking himself in or out of any issue. Even when persuading others do to his bidding. Nel could tell he was smart. It was no wonder that Malfoy kept him close to him. He was also terribly proud of his status as a Pureblood. He laughed at most of his best friend's cruel jokes, but tended to be more serious, opting out to simply look down in disgust at others he deemed to be inferior.

The last boy, Theodore Nott, was the quietest of the lot. He seemed to be constantly withdrawn in his own little world and disregarded most around him. No surprise, he was another Pureblood. The curly haired boy usually had his nose buried in a book. Out of the lot he seemed to be the one most indifference to Nel.

And then there was Malfoy…

The thought of him made her blood boil.

Specially after she had learned what the word Mudblood meant. She had asked Tracey one day during breakfast. "Who called you that?" She gasped a little with both of her dark eyes shot wide open in shock. "To your face?" She looked horrified.

As if it was that so hard to believe. The word was casually thrown around the common room with enough frequency that its ominous meaning lingered on the girl's mind.

Nel was presently on her way to Charms, a class that had so far become a favorite of hers. She clumsily walked with several books in her hands staggering on their weight as she pondered on the questions, she would be asking Professor Flitwick.

For somebody who despised reading she had been doing more than enough of it since arriving to Hogwarts. Not only did she have to keep her grades up, she had also learned she had to educate herself and be stronger and smarter than her peers. Specially if she wanted a fair shot at surviving the rest of the school year. It was even harder for her to keep up considering most of the lot came from wizarding families and had been exposed to spell works and magic since a young age.

Malfoy who was walking with his posse of boys watched her from a far. He had been extra bitter as of the late over the fact that Harry Potter had made Gryffindor's Quidditch team and had become the youngest Seeker in a Century. He of course had to take out his anger and frustrations on something - in this case on someone.

His eyes were glued to her back. Fixed on her horrible haircut.

"Watch this," he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle.

He flicked his wand in her direction. Nel didn't even see it coming. It was almost as if she had tripped on an invisible rope. She let out a loud gasp before taking a nasty spill, the handful of books she had been carrying spilling around her.

She looked at her scraped hands and lightly winced at them. Laughter approached her and then passed her as Malfoy and his friends walked by her the three of them laughing. She felt her head grow hot. Impulsively she reached for a large book and with perfect aim tossed it at the back of his head, hitting his gel helmet making him tilt forward.

"Next time you have the urge to hex me! Do it to my face!" She shouted at him.

"Oh, yeah?" He challenged stepping forward. "What are you going to do about it?" He whipped his wand out advancing towards her.

"Make you regret it, you fathead" Nel rose to her feet, books gathered in her arms. She pulled out her wand and without saying a word hexed him.

Malfoy's head began to grow and inflate like a balloon. He touched it and looked horrified when he realized what was happening. His head swelled up so much his face looked small compared to it. Nel let out a triumphant laugh and turned her wand to Crabbe and Goyle threatening them. The three boys scattered away in panic.

She heard laughter and turned to see Ron bent over with laughter a couple of steps behind her. Harry was next to him sniggering at what he had just seen.

"That's an illegal spell!" Granger stepped forward both her eyebrows turned up in concern. "You could get in serious trouble for that, or worse, expelled!"

Nel huffed humorously and lightly blew on her wand pretending it was a hot gun in one of those Western films she'd watch back at Wool's.

However, Ron shot Granger an irritated look. "Don't listen to her," he stepped forward. "Again, that was bloody brilliant!" He said in awe.

"Thanks," the girl responded as the four of them walked together to Charms class. "Your brothers actually taught it to me." She then turned to Potter, "Also, congrats on making the Quidditch team Harry. Youngest Seeker in the Century? That's pretty wicked," she smiled at him.

"Thanks," Harry flashed her an odd look. "Shouldn't you be upset? Slytherin is our rival team."

She shrugged casually. "I don't see any Slytherins around," she smiled charmingly before walking into potions. It was true. Ever since she found out what the word Mudblood meant - not wanting to be associated with such a disgusting ideology Nel had decided to shed her uniform. Opting out from wearing her emerald and silver tie and her green robes.

It seemed like her classmates had just realized that she wasn't in uniform because the Slytherin girls kept making comments about it or asking her why she wasn't wearing her robes which irritated her to no end.

“You’re going to make us lose House Points!” Bullstrode hissed at her, which made Nel roll her eyes.

Today they would be learning a new spell. One that was known to be most effective during dueling.

"Now, can anybody tell me what kind of spell Expelliarmus is?" Flitwick leaned over his podium eyeing the class.

Granger's hand instantly shot up in the air. Several students rolled their eyes at her. She could really be such an insufferable know-it-all sometimes. She was the kind of student that would remind the teacher to grade homework when it seemed like he or she had forgotten to collect it.

Elowen raised her hand for a change. Surprised Flitwick turned to attend the participation from the usually quiet student.

"Expelliarmus is a disarming charm. It's commonly used during duels to make an opponent lose their wand," she explained.

Flitwick seemed pleased. "Think you can demonstrate Ms. Saintday?"

"Uh…" She shifted nervously ready to cast the spell for the first time when Malfoy walked back into the class with a scowl on his normal sized face. She shook her head and returned her attention to the professor. Nodding, she flicked her wand and Flitwick's own wand flew out of his hand.

"Well done Ms. Saintday, 10 points Slytherin."

There were some low cheers on her side of the room. Nel was about to take her seat when the professor realized she wasn't wearing her uniform.

"Something wrong with your uniform Ms. Saintday?" He asked curiously. "Nope," The girl responded with an innocent smile.

"Then, may I ask why you chose not to wear it?"

The room grew silent expecting her answer. Tracy braced herself already wincing at the anticipated answer. Daphne looked at her oddly.

"Because I will not be associated with a House that prides itself and values bigotry and racism."

Xxxxx

Again, Nel had gotten herself landed in trouble. This time however, she had been sent to the person above Snape. The Headmaster himself.

She was sitting on a sofa chair before the Headmaster's cluttered desk. Her eyes wondered around the cluttered room looking at the many moving portraits on the walls. The mountains of books and artifacts and specially at the phoenix that seemed to be combing its crimson feathers perched on his post. She didn't know it was possible for such a beautiful creature to exist.

She was expecting Dumbledore to come from behind her but the man instead apparated on his desk before her. She flinched at the sudden movement lightly jerking back.

"Ah, Ms. Saintday," he greeted casually. "We haven't chatted since we were at the Three Broomsticks. Have you been adapting well to Hogwarts?" Funny how he used the word adapting. Instead of enjoying. She snorted at his words.

"I've had detention more times I can count and got sent to your office today. How do you think?" She answered rudely with complete lack of regard or respect that came from a lifetime of living under Wool’s thumb.

Dumbledore ignored her crass tone. "I also see you're not wearing your uniform. Any particular reason why?"

He already knew why. Why was he taunting her like this? Trying to tiptoe around her to try and get her to admit it? Suddenly the orphan felt like she was back at Wool's sitting in front of the Matron instead of the Headmaster.

Despite the dancing around the taboo subject he was looking at her with an odd expression on his face. Fascination perhaps? She couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was almost as if he knew something she didn't. As if this was some kind of personal test she had to pass. "You know why," She crossed her arms over her chest. "You'd be surprised to know most of Slytherin's students don't share the believes you are so concerned about. Even then, those same believes can stretch beyond house or even status," he explained in a dismissive tone.

'And what about those who do?' She wanted to ask. How could he take this so lightly?

"I can assure you that this institution does not tolerate or support any beliefs relating or pertaining to the discrimination of others," He reassured her. "I do understand that the Slytherin House gets a particular reputation due to the beliefs of the founder of your house, Salazar Slytherin, a name I'm sure you're more than familiar with."

She starred at him blankly. So? Snape had made her do several parchments on him and the history of Slytherin. Big deal. "However, since you've brought it to my attention," he stroked his beard sagely. "Something will be done," he winked at her with what she felt was the charisma that could move others to do his bidding to him.

She knew what Dumbledore was going to do. Absolutely nothing about it. She knew what those words meant. She had heard Wool say it plenty of times back at the orphanage.

He smiled at her and pointed his want in her direction. She flinched bracing herself to be jinxed or injured, but instead her green tie appeared and tied itself into a knot on her uniform and her green robe appeared from thin air growing on her arms.

"Sherbet Lemon?" He casually raised a glass bowl that contained a handful of lemon drop candies. Her mouth watered at the sight. Manipulative old man, lemon candies were her favorite…

She avoided his gaze before sinking her sticky hand into the bowl and taking a greedy fistful of them. Tongue half sticking out from her lips. She was about to leave when something stopped her before she reached the exit.

"I almost forgot," She returned to the desk. "Sir, I know that communication between Muggles and Wizards, is well, strained for less of a better word… Is there any chance that I can write to my friend Lucy? She's more family, really." She looked at him with hopeful eyes. "I'm afraid I can't make that exception Elowen. If Ms. Bonilla writes to you, what will stop the other children in Wool’s Orphanage from writing to you as well? The less people that know the better."

She slumped her shoulders in defeat. "However," he continued. "I would recommend you write to Ms. Wool to give your letter to Ms. Bonilla," he said kindly. "Is that all?" He crossed his arms behind his back.

Xxxxx

Nel was taken back when she found Tracey waiting for her outside of Dumbledore's office. "What happened?" She instantly asked. She looked more concerned than irritated which the orphan thought was odd.

"Nothing," Nel shrugged carelessly swinging her book bag over her shoulder. "Just talked," she said in a dull tone wanting to finish this conversation and just head directly to the owlery to write to Lucy.

"He wasn't angry?" She piped following the girl to the Great Hall. "No," Nel responded. She had a feeling that Tracey was only going to keep bugging her until she got her answers. "Like I said, we just talked. He offered me some candy," she said before popping one of the sherbet lemons into her mouth. "And made me wear my uniform."

They arrived to the Great Hall and sat at the end of the Slytherin table and helped themselves to today’s lunch rotisserie chicken, with rosemary potatoes, green beans and a split pea-soup.

"I thought what you did was brilliant," Tracey said taking a seat next to her classmate. "I wish I was that brave," she confessed.

Nel's eyebrows arched almost to her hair line in surprise.

"Or stupid," She heard a voice call from the other side.

Both girls turned to face Pansy who was sitting with Greengrass and Bullstrode. "You think just because you mastered one spell, you're better than all of us? That you can go cry to the Headmaster?" Pansy laughed.

Nel really wasn't having it today. She didn't even bother hearing whatever it was Parkinson had left to say.

"Sodd off fathead," She said casting Engorgio Skullus. It didn't take long for her head to begin to swell like a balloon just like Malfoy's had earlier. Students from other houses laughed at the girl's balloon head. Daphne and Millicent looked horrified as they escorted her friend to Madame Pomfrey. "Make that two spells!"

"Saintday," A familiar nasal voice spoke. Grimacing she turned back to see Snape standing behind her. "Detention…" He grumbled glaring down at her before stalking off.

Great.

"I thought it was pretty cool."

Neither one of the girls had even noticed that Nott had been sitting in front of them quietly reading a book. He looked up with the smallest of smiles.

The orphan didn't smile back. She gave him an odd look. "Aren't you… Like a fanatic too?"

Nott closed his book lightly and put it down. He did a light shrugging motion with his shoulders. "Sort of ridiculous, isn't it?"

Both girls returned his smile. Happy to have found some common ground and a new friend. Perhaps Dumbledore had been right. Maybe not everyone in Slytherin was terrible.

After lunch, for the first time since she arrived to Hogwarts Nel was happy. She was excited to write home and share the good news with her favorite person. She immediately wrote to Wool (Lucy) telling her everything and anything that she could tell her about Hogwarts and apologized for the lack of communication explaining that the school had no phones and was very particular about communications. Which was not a complete lie.

With that she sent Barberry off with it to London.

Xxxxx

The rest of the school year went as well as it could've gone, especially considering there was a dark wizard out and about seeking to obtain a weapon that was hidden in the school and that their stuttering professor or the Dark Arts turned out to be that dark wizard in disguise.

Nel never received a response a response from Lucy. Not that she was expecting one as her friend didn’t have an owl to respond to her. Who knows maybe Wool was keeping her letters from her. That was precisely the type of emotional torture that the evil woman would play out. The thought made her skin crawl. She prayed that Lucy would forgive her, that she'd understand.

Being a Slytherin wasn’t as unbearable as it had initially been now that Nel had two friends in Slytherin house and even some outside of it.

Much to her surprise she received a letter when the owls were delivering mail the day after swelling up Parkinson's head.

She couldn’t help but smile at the letter.

“Who’d be writing to you?” Parkinson asked while trying time catch a glimpse of the contents of the letter.

“Look,” Nel said leaning over, lowering her shoulder so that she could show the contents of the letter to Pansy. The girl peered over her noisily and let out a shout when she saw Nel’s wand poking out of her sleeve.

A spark went off and Pansy’s head once again began to swell up like a large balloon.

‘Glad to see you’re keeping the fatheads at bay. - F & G’

She couldn’t help but laugh a little and look up to meet the twin’s eyes from across the table. Some students were laughing at the balloon head in the table. Fred and George smiled proudly at the monster they had created.

"Detention Saintday." Snape muttered as he passed by the table. Whatever, it had totally been worth it. So, what if she had to spend a couple of hours polishing ancient trophies at night.

As previously mentioned, Slytherin was at least bearable now. Of course, it wasn't all daisies and roses but in the least bit it was tolerable.

Now she found the most unbearable part to be just how petty and horrible girls could be for each other. Especially when the other girls would comment on Nel's clothes. Since most of her pajamas consisted on oversized t-shirts and mismatching sweatpants that looked worn.

The majority of her clothing was very Swiss looking considering they all had as many holes as the cheese. She didn't even know how many kids had worn them before her.

The orphan built a thicker skin. She tried to push these insecure thoughts to the back of her head. As much as Nel tried not to be materialistic and let it get to her head, it was hard not to. The girl didn't have a single galleon to her name. She looked at all the beautiful things the other Slytherin girls had with green envy. Their pajamas all made out of silk with lovely buttons. Their clothes didn't have holes, lose threads, and weren't washed out, colorless or two sizes bigger than them.

However, the hardest part was watching how blinded they were to their privilege. How they took what they had for granted. She'd watch how they would all mishandle and treat their clothes like rags. Daphne even complained she was sick of having to wear the same thing more than once. Nel’s sticky fingers itched at the thought of taking something from them, it wasn’t like they would miss it. She also considered asking for it when they declared it so "last season" or something amongst those lines, but her pride was too great.

Nel would always be in need of money. Both in this world and the human one. This need awoke a new sense of entrepreneurship in her.

"Oi," She said tossing a crumbled-up paper to the back of Crabbe's head during History of Magic, also known as the most boring Wizarding class. Both him and Goyle turned back to look at her. Professor Binns was a ghost who had died during teaching, the man had not even realized he had died and simply stood up and continued teaching. Nel wondered how can one know they are not dead?

"Have you two done your transfiguration parchment on the difference between switching, vanishing and conjuring spells?" She asked Tweddle-Dee and Tweddle-Dum.

They shook their dumb heads no in unison.

Of course, they hadn't.

"I could help you with it," She implied. Then realized she'd have to be more concise considering how daft the boys were. "I'll do it for you," she clarified. "A Galleon for every 5 inches."

For somebody that despised reading so much Nel couldn't help but be locked up in the library most days doing Crabbe and Goyle's homework. The two didn't seem to care what grade she landed them as long as they were graded with Acceptable. And both were more than willing to pay.

Eventually she started getting other clients with strange request. One afternoon two male Ravenclaws approached her.

"You're Saintday.” One stated. "You're the girl that writes parchments, right?" The other said both seemed nervous as they fidgeted.

"Perhaps," she drawled out eyeing them curiously. They were Ravenclaws, weren't they supposed to be super smart? What did they need her for? "For the right price…"

"You also know how to turn people's heads into balloons, right?"

She arched her eyebrow at this.

And that's how Nel Saintday became the person you went to whenever you needed a favor done. All transactions were done carefully under the table in the musky corridors of the library to keep everything as anonymous and safe as possible. Parchment writing, hexing, you name it. Nel would make it happen. However, if you wanted something from Hogsmeade or Zonko's she'd refer her few clients to her associates in mischief the Weasley twins.

It was greatly frustrating seeing Slytherin lose the House Cup at the end of the year. Especially considering they had lost because of Dumbledore's favoritism to Gryffindor and the special attentions he put on Harry Potter. Nel scoffed bitterly. She liked Harry fine, but his special treatment really wasn't fair to others. Maybe she envied him. Like her he was an orphan, but unlike her, he had fame, he had a fortune, he even still had a family. Whereas she had nothing.

Finally returning to London at the end of the term. Nel wasted no time pounding on the orphanage’s door.

"Dear God, have mercy on me," Cordelia said aghast at the return of the girl he saw as the evil incarnate. Nel didn't bother in greeting the Matron. Wasting no time, she pushed past her, leaving her trunk and owl by the entrance as she rushed to the girls’ dormitory.

"Lucy!" She shouted excitedly her voice carrying over the corridors as she ran with a broad wide smile.

Some kids eyed her curiously, others cheered to see she had returned. Nel continued shouting her best friend's name as she poked her head into every room she could find. Her heart was pounding from the excitement.

"Lucy!" She shouted again entering the dormitory. She rushed over to Lucy’s bed and her heart dropped at the sight. She felt a painful jab on her chest. All of Lucy's belongings were missing, there were no photos on the wall, books on the nightstand or shoes underneath the bed.

She was gone.

End of Year 1

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