#they see a brown man and just decide what his ethnicity must be based on what they wanna believe and how they wanna use his actions

[chaiaurchaandni]

israeli propaganda

[kemetic-dreams]

In my research I learned that the word comes from tribus in Latin. Its earliest usage was in the time of the Roman empire where there were three original tribes, but more were added to organize the voting system.  At first, tribe may have been related to ethnicity, but as more were added, it became about geographical location, rather than kinship.   Tribe was a territorial voting unit in the Roman state. I've seen the word used to talk about Celtic and Germanic histories. It also became associated with the Hebrew people of the Torah and Bible. You must have heard of the 12 Tribes of Israel. The connotations evolved, and the problems with it began when it got into the hands of anthropologists. (Ironically, I have a degree in anthropology and I think it's a fascinating discipline; Good thing my favorite anthro professor back in my university days wisely recommended that we understand the controversies around the term.)

Truth be told, it offends many people. Here's why:

#1 For European missionaries and explorers who went out to conquer people, the word "tribal" was synonymous to "savage" and "primitive." It's mainstream connotation is rooted in colonial-era racist ideology. The word immediately conjures stereotypical imagery of brown people with bones in their noses or naked warriors running around in a rainforest

That “tribal” word

by

Chika Oduah

I cringe whenever I see that word in a news article. And I see it so often in journalese. Stories about developing countries often feature phrases like tribal healer, tribal land, tribal conflict, tribesmen, tribal chief, tribal wear, tribal name, tribal rhythm. The word is so problematic, I don't even know where to begin. I will suggest this - get some education on its history.

The Myth of the Noble Savage

The word plays into a historic imagination that classifies indigenous people outside of Europe into two categories of savages: the noble savage and the brutal savage. That leads me to number two.

The bottom-line problem with the idea of tribe is that it is intellectually lazy.

#2 Societies are constantly changing. No matter where you go, you're bound to see it. Technology, the spread of ideas, education, globalization, all of these elements contribute to sociocultural changes. But the word "tribal" freezes societies in a primordial past (real or imagined) where people wore animal skins and ran with wolves. I think it's hard for many people in the Western world to accept that societies in Africa (in other developing regions around the world) are dynamic. It's hard for some to grasp concepts of modernity in such places.   Even the most remote, far flung communities are not the same today as they were just 20 years ago.

The tribe, a long respected category of analysis in anthropology, has recently been the object of some scrutiny by anthropologists ... Doubts about the utility of the tribe as an analytical category have almost certainly arisen out of the rapid involvement of peoples, even in the remotest parts of the globe, in political, economic and sometimes direct social relationship with industrial nations. The doubts, however, are based ultimately on the definition and meaning which different scholars give to the term 'tribe', its adjective 'tribal', and its abstract form 'tribalism' ~ Dr. James Clyde Mitchell

Westerners have romanticized certain ethnic groups, like the Maasai in eastern Africa, because they have this romantic idea that the Maasai people are living the exact same way as their ancestors did. Untouched by modernity. But that's simply not true. And where does this desperate need to have ethnic groups permanently living in primordial or precolonial states come from? Is the "primitive," noble savage look more marketable for tourism? That leads me to number three.

#3 The relentless attempt to cast Africans are primitive, unchanging people relates to another popular notion that the past, when there was no internet, airplanes or sliced bread, was more peaceful, more pure and less complicated than modern times. The problem with that is that it pushes an identity (based on a misconstrued premise) on other people. It's someone from the West saying I want the kind of African who lives in a thatch-roofed hut in a village in Niamey, not the African who lives in a  brick home in a Harare suburb.  Africans are constantly being defined by the Western world, submitting to the names and descriptions put upon them. In my favorite work by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun, the character Odenigbo says, "But my point is that the only authentic identity for the African is the tribe...I am Nigerian because a white man created Nigeria and gave me that identity. I am black because the white man constructed black to be as different as possible from his white. But I was Igbo before the white man came.” (I'll talk about Africans using the word tribe further down!).

In the Americas, Africa, Australia, and elsewhere, colonial administrators applied these terms [tribe and band] to specific groups almost immediately upon contact. ~Encyclopedia Brittanica

#4 The word "tribal" distorts reality because it leads to misguided ideas of what is authentic and what is not. This is when a Westerner, looking at a picture of expensive cars parked at a chic hotel in Accra, says "this is not the real Africa." I hear the comment very often because there's this prevailing perception that the real Africa is "tribal." Its stick, bones, dirt and chiefs draped in leopard print. Anything outside of that, according to that line of thought, has been touched (contaminated, even) by the Western world, therefore is inauthentic. Again, it's that insistence on denying dynamism, that change happens. And that prerequisite applies to people, too. The African woman who graduated from Harvard Business School, works as a bank executive and wears Chanel suits is not a real African. The woman chopping firewood with a naked baby on her back is and gets bonus points for authenticity if the child has flies swarming around the face.

Over to You, Is the Word 'Tribe' Offensive? - BBC World Service

#4 For peoples who experienced oppression, suppression or marginalization from European colonizers or their descendants, the word "tribe" triggers memories of a traumatic past.  This is especially true of Native Americans, also called the First Nations. (I remember learning about the Trail of Tears in elementary school and feeling quite sad about it.)  Thousands of Native Americans were brutally uprooted from their ancestral lands when Europeans and their descendants decided to forcibly expand their presence in the Americas. Today, the U.S. government still officially uses the word "tribes" to refer to Native Americans, but I have read that they prefer to be called "nations" or "people."

#5 There's also this thing with numbers. British anthropologist and evolutionary psychologist Robin Dunbar, originator of the Dunbar's number theory, said that 500 - 1,500 people (who follow their ancestral culture, beliefs of unity, laws, and rights; are self-sufficient and have strong emotion towards their lands) can be classified as a one tribe. Those are pretty much the same numbers that other nineteenth century anthropologists used, defining a tribe as a human society made up of several bands. A band was a small, egalitarian, kin-based group of perhaps 10–50 people. So when you're looking at the large ethnic groups in Africa today, some numbering millions, they can't be described as tribes.

Tribe has no coherent meaning. What is a tribe? The Zulu in South Africa, whose name and common identity was forged by the creation of a powerful state less than two centuries ago, and who are a bigger group than French Canadians, are called a tribe. So are the !Kung hunter-gatherers of Botswana and Namibia, who number in the hundreds. The term is applied to Kenya's Maasai herders and Kikuyu farmers, and to members of these groups in cities and towns when they go there to live and work.

Tribe is used for millions of Yoruba in Nigeria and Benin, who share a language but have an eight-hundred year history of multiple and sometimes warring city-states, and of religious diversity even within the same extended families. Tribe is used for Hutu and Tutsi in the central African countries of Rwanda and Burundi. Yet the two societies (and regions within them) have different histories. And in each one, Hutu and Tutsi lived interspersed in the same territory. They spoke the same language, married each other, and shared virtually all aspects of culture. At no point in history could the distinction be defined by distinct territories, one of the key assumptions built into "tribe." ~Pambazuka News

Zambia is slightly larger than Texas. The country has approximately 10 million inhabitants and a rich cultural diversity. English is the official language, but Zambia also boasts 73 different indigenous languages. While there are many indigenous Zambian words that translate into "nation," "people," "clan," "language," "foreigner," "village" or "community," there are none that easily translate into "tribe." Sorting Zambians into a fixed number of "tribes" was a byproduct of British colonial rule over Northern Rhodesia (as Zambia was known prior to independence in 1964).

#6 In anthropological theories of social evolution, "tribe" is lower than "civilization." After studying early cultures in Central and South America, American neo-evolutionary cultural anthropologist Elman Rogers Service devised an influential categorization scheme for the political character of human social structures: band, tribe, chiefdom and state.

A band is the smallest unit of political organization, consisting of only a few families and no formal leadership positions. Tribes have larger populations but are organized around family ties and have fluid or shifting systems of temporary leadership. Chiefdoms are large political units in which the chief, who usually is determined by heredity, holds a formal position of power. States are the most complex form of political organization and are characterized by a central government that has a monopoly over legitimate uses of physical force, a sizeable bureaucracy, a system of formal laws, and a standing military force.

With this understanding, again, many of the large ethnic groups in Africa's modern nation states cannot be called tribes.

But... a lot of Africans use "tribe" to describe themselves. The word is taught in schools across African countries, because the secular educational system was largely created by Westerners. That's the basis of the ongoing  "decolonize education" campaign in South Africa. Check this out: When Africans learn English, they are often taught that "tribe" is the term that English-speakers will recognize. But what underlying meaning in their own languages are Africans translating when they say "tribe"? In English, writers often refer to the Zulu tribe, whereas in Zulu the word for the Zulu as a group is isizwe. Zulu linguists translate isizwe as "nation" or "people." Isizwe refers both to the multi-ethnic South African nation and to ethno-national peoples that form a part of the multi-ethnic nation. When Africans use the word "tribe" in general conversation, they do not draw on the negative connotations of primitivism the word has in Western countries.

But there has been a decades-long push by many African scholars and media professionals to get media outlets, textbooks and academia to stop using "tribe" and "tribal." Some have addressed their concerns to The New York Times, among other news publications.  Here's how Bill Keller, New York Times' Pulitzer Prize-winning executive editor from 2003 to 2011 responded:

"I get it. Anyone who uses the word "tribe" is a racist. [. . .] It's a tediously familiar mantra in the Western community of Africa scholars. In my experience, most Africans who live outside the comforts of academia (and who use the word "tribe" with shameless disregard for the political sensitivities of American academics) have more important concerns."

The logic here is, since the real Africans are using the word themselves, then what's the big deal? Well, for all the reasons I just presented and more. And recently we're seeing a wave of companies and organizations come out to announce that they will not longer use "tribe" and "tribal." The New York Times is now using "ethnic group" and "ethnic." (I have issues with ethnic. At a Walmart, I noticed that the aisle for hair products tailored to people of African descent was the "ethnic hair" aisle; that's literally what the sign said). These entities may have been motivated by political correctness or could be trying to save face. I don't know. I know that, what to do about the tribe/tribal word is a conversation that matters.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife” - Part 7

“Under the Knife” - Part 7

Main Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,100-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Violence

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List

:

@fruitloopzzz

@theeactress

@melconnor2007

@ashenfallsof

@geeksareunique

@all-by-myself98

@sj-thefan

​

@fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude

​

@ntlmundy

​

@a-person-unlabled

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack was in the middle of a phone call when you opened his office door unannounced. He gave you an annoyed look until he saw something in your eyes that said that this was important. When he looked to Hannibal, who was behind you, he nodded slightly, letting Jack know that this was for sure something urgent.��

“I’m going to have to call you back.” He calmly said before putting the handset back onto the office phone base. “What did yo-”

“I think I finally got into this guy’s brain!” Jack gives you an expectant look.

“Well?! Go on then!” You take a quick breath in as you speak, making your way to one of the chairs in front of Jack’s desk. Hannibal stood off to your right slightly.

“Okay. So, we’ve been looking for a doctor this entire time, right?”

“Yes, we have.” There was obvious hesitation in his voice, worried that you would just widen the suspect list instead of narrowing it down. You continued.

“Right. But what if our killer was actually a patient of these doctors?” 

You watched Jack quickly think it over, preparing for exactly what you thought he’d point out. You pulled out a couple of print-outs from within your notebook and waited for Jack to speak. Hannibal peeked over your shoulder at the paper and read a little bit of the top page while Jack spoke.

“It would tie the doctors together, but it wouldn’t explain the method of killing.”

“It does if this patient was a former doctor himself. A plastic surgeon to be more specific.” You hand Jack the papers, letting out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

The papers were from the initial suspect list you had gotten. You now had one person’s name and photo circled: Henry Urik. The second page was the basic information you had gotten on him early into the investigation. 

“Name: Henry Urik Age: 29 Height: 5’11” Weight (Approx.): 205lbs Hair Color: Reddish Brown Ethnicity: White Male Employment: Plastic Surgeon - Inactive”

As Jack read over the papers, you felt yourself slipping into your mental pictures. You found that missing puzzle piece that brought everything together. You could now see it all, feel what he was feeling, and truly attempt to get into his mind. Jack looked up and saw you seemingly phase-out, but he had seen something similar when your brother, Will, would be at crime scenes. He and Hannibal stayed quiet and let you do your thing.

 “Dr. Henry Urik started up his own practice relatively recently, but it failed. Probably due to some sexual allegations or misconduct or something. He popped up on the first few rounds of searches that I did, but then I saw that he wasn’t associated with any active practices or facilities, so I took him off the list. 

He lost his job, which means he is anxious and stressed, which then potentially and likely leads to a range of psychosomatic ailments; soreness, fatigue, insomnia, and most importantly, headaches. After long enough, frequent or maybe even constant headaches would drive anyone mad. Which is why Henry decides to finally go to his primary care physician: Dr. Everet. I’m sure if we get a warrant and pull a list of all of the patients that have seen our victims over the last 2 - 4 months, we will find Henry’s name on each of them.”

“That’s not a long time to plan out 4, or potentially more, murders.” Jack points out, seeing you come back to reality. 

“I don’t think these killings were really thought about or planned to every detail. He didn’t want to just kill them out of anger; that was for whoever else was in the house. He was angry and upset, but we can see that he took his time with the doctors. Maybe focusing on them and using his old medical instruments was a form of relief for him?”

“What kind of relief are we talking about here, Graham?”

“By shifting his focus from himself and his ailments, he’s distracting himself from his anxieties and stressors. Thus seeming to make his headaches dwindle.” 

“In other words, pain relief?” You and Hannibal nod in agreement. Jack continues. “Okay, but what makes him so upset that he goes out and murders four doctors and their wives?”

“We’d have to double-check with the notes in his files from each doctor, but I can bet that he wasn’t happy with whatever test results or diagnoses they were giving him.” Before Jack could say anything, Hannibal finally spoke.

“I believe I can confirm that theory.” Both you and Jack turned to Hannibal with confused looks over your faces.

“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Dr. Lecter?” Crawford had a hint of annoyance in his tone but kept it mostly neutral. You, on the other hand, were trying to look into his mask and see if he was being serious. As far as you could tell, he was.

“Dr. Urik was a patient of mine. I say ‘was’ because I only ever had two sessions with the man. He was referred to me by Dr. Everet. He showed signs of incredible anxiety over the idea of not being able to be in his profession after a patient accused him of sexual harassment during one of their appointments. He also showed signs that could be tied to bipolar disorder or something more severe. Unfortunately, I couldn’t form a full diagnosis after only those two sessions. I haven’t heard from him in roughly 4 months.”

“Which all lines up with (Y/N)’s profile.” Hannibal nodded.

“I tried to explain the possibility of his headaches being a manifestation of his anxiety, but he did not like that answer. Saying that it must be something tangible; something he could fix with medicine or a procedure.”

“Well, that explains why you are potentially his next target.” You spoke your thoughts out loud, which came out slightly snarky. 

Hannibal turned his attention to you. You were slightly staring off. To anyone else, it would look like you were zoning out, but Hannibal knew that it was a sign of your mind working hard.  

Somehow hearing that Hannibal had a possible solid connection to the killer, a wave of fear hit your heart. You cared about Hannibal, and you knew he cared about you. You weren’t sure he could tell, but one could say you had grown to love this man. And it only took being threatened by a serial killer to let that thought process in your mind.

“So it seems.” 

“Aren’t you glad you joined the case now, Dr. Lecter?” You poked fun at Hannibal, the sharpness in your voice only evident to him. You thought you hid your true feelings well enough, but Hannibal could see right through your facade. He knew you were scared. Not only for his well being but your own as well; using humor as a way to make the situation seem a little less harsh.

Before Hannibal could respond, Jack posed a question.

 “It doesn’t explain you, (Y/N). Why does this guy want to get to you?” You all pause for a beat. You try to get into Henry’s mindset and see any possible reason as to why you would also be targeted.

“I don’t think there is a reason. Maybe he read the TattleCrime article, saw that I was with Dr. Lecter, and then associated me with him. Or maybe he is following us and knows that I have a role in his case. Whether that means I am actually important to Urik or not, I can’t say for certain. He could just see me similarly to the wives of the other doctors. We won’t know for sure until we can ask him.”

As Crawford makes some decisions in his head, you can’t help but start to twist your ring. The idea of yours and Hannibal’s lives being in danger was a terrifying thought. You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to him and he wasn’t a part of your life anymore. Yes, there was still a ghost of confusion and uncertainty with him at the moment, but that was pushed to the backseat after today’s findings.

You looked away from Jack for a quick second to see if Hannibal showed any signs that he was scared. Much to your surprise, he was not only already looking at you, but through his stoic face, his eyes showed something. You looked away as you heard Jack lean forward in his chair, but you couldn’t figure out what that emotion in Hannibal’s eyes was.

After what seemed like forever, Crawford explained his plan of action.

“Alright, I’m going to get started on getting those files and getting a team out in the field looking for this guy. You two are going to have an armed agent following you until we get Henry in custody. They will be hidden, but know that you two will be protected.” You let out a small sigh of relief. “After you compile all of your notes and initial thoughts on Urik, have them sent to me. Then you two are dismissed for the night. Go get a drink or two. We are going to finally catch this son of a bitch.” 

You nod and start to stand up to head to the door. Before you could step away from his desk, Jack got your attention.

“Graham.” 

“Yes, sir?”

“Good work.” You couldn’t hide the proud smile that you tried to smother off your face as you said a quick “Thank you, sir” and made your way out of his office, Hannibal behind you.

Hannibal escorts you back to your office. Once you get inside, you and Hannibal spend a solid 20 minutes working out every detail that you could about Henry Urik. You quickly type it all out and send it through to Crawford’s email.

“Alright. Everything is sent and I am ready for a glass of wine and then passing out for the night for some much-needed sleep.” You started to get your bag together as Hannibal sat in one of the office chairs and watched you, trying to get you to be comfortable with him again. 

“A well-deserved rest, my dear. You did incredible work today.” You quickly looked up to see him staring at you, a rare smile crossing his face as you two briefly made eye contact. You tried to hide the small blush that you felt creeping its way onto your face. 

Hannibal didn’t smile often, and when he did around you, it always made your heart flutter. Getting to see that rare treat and have him compliment you on your work was an unexpected but appreciated way to end the day.

You let out a small “thank you” as you gathered the last of your things. Hannibal stood up and grabbed your coat from the back of your chair. He offered it out for you to slide into, but you didn’t want to wear it, so you took it from him and draped it over your arm. Another small thank you and you two were out the door, headed to your car. After being called out by your killer, Hannibal felt a bigger need to make sure you got to your car safely, even if you were going to have a guard watching you from afar.

He opened the car door, but before you could sit down, he finally asked what had been circling in his mind for the last 30 minutes. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow? I understand that you have your reservations about talking to me recently, but now that you have done a marvelous job at putting a name to the Virginia Scalpel, I wonder if now would be a good time to try to talk personally. Perhaps even get back to how things were before this case.”

You stood there, the car door being a physical barrier between you and Hannibal. You instinctually fiddled with your ring, mulling over his offer. You can’t help but feel your heart hurt at the lack of time you’ve had with Hannibal. Letting yourself have time to just focus and work on the case over the last week was beneficial. You could now think about more personal things clearly and see that you weren’t as upset with Hannibal as you had been.

You look back up at him and see him observing you, trying to figure out what was going on in that wonderful mind of yours. A small smile grew on your face as you finally spoke.

“What’s for dinner, Hannibal?”

[strvngcrs]

『 adam brody. forty. cis male. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that DANIEL ABRAMS from FAIR LANE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -BROODING & -EVASIVE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool HORROR AUTHOR and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +DEBONAIR & +ELOQUENT. i hope i see them around again! 

classically rolls in ridiculously late bc i forgot i had to work last night & then proceeded to sleep in today wooo !!  good afternoon ghouls, it’s ya girl maia, finally here to deliver the definition of hot mess with good intentions.

GENERAL

FULL NAME.    daniel elijah abrams.

NICKNAMES.    dan, danny.

AGE & BIRTHDATE.    40 years old ; may 4, 1980.

GENDER & PRONOUNS.    cis male ; he/him.

ORIENTATION.    heterosexual.

MARITAL STATUS.    estranged.

RELIGION.    jewish ( non-practicing ).

OCCUPATION.    horror author.

INSPIRATION.     bill denbrough ( it ), donnie darko ( donnie darko ), lucas scott ( one tree hill ), stephen king.

PHYSICAL

HAIR COLOUR.    black.

EYE COLOUR.    dark brown.

BUILD.    athletic.

MARKS.     freckles scarcely spread across his entire body.

TATTOOS.    none.

PIERCINGS.    none.

HEIGHT.    5'11".

FACECLAIM.    adam brody.

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC.    taurus.

ALIGNMENT.    chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS.    ravenclaw.

LABEL.    the arcane.

POSITIVE TRAITS.    cheeky, debonair, driven, eloquent, resilient, solicitous.

NEGATIVE TRAITS.    brooding, evasive, inquisitive, sarcastic, stoic, stubborn.

HOBBIES.    smokes like a chimney while writing until he forgets what day of the week it is, dabbles in hunting & fishing (thanks @ his dad), labels all crime / thriller genres as ‘predictable’ but continues to watch them, obsesses over & relentlessly criticizes his own work, drinks heavily & passionately plays moonlight sonata or fur elise as if he’s betoven’s disciple.

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH.    california.

CURRENT RESIDENCE.    mapleview, north carolina.

NATIONALITY.    american.

ETHNICITY.    ashkenazi jewish.

PARENTS.   judith miller & mr abrams.

SIBLINGS.    mia miller.

BIRTH ORDER.    eldest.

CHILDREN.    penelope abrams.

EDUCATION.     university of california, los angeles; bachelor of arts in english.

LANGUAGES.    english, some spanish & french.

HISTORY

EARLY LIFE.    born to THE judith miller and some newspaper editor, daniel was raised by the latter and notoriously abandoned by the former. well, not completely abandoned - there’s an old shoebox containing a few letters as proof - but that was the only source of communication in their otherwise absent relationship. while little danny boy didn’t fully understand why he couldn’t see his mother, he sought out an alternative solution by watching her movies. his father wasn’t aware, at first, and dan created this extravagant fantasy of the person he thought she was based on the roles she played. however, once papa abrams found out his son was watching these movies (which were probably not fit for children in the first place lmao oop), he begrudgingly revealed the bitter truth. being forced to come to terms with the fact that his own mother willingly abandoned him with his father, daniel didn’t fully understand what it meant; he couldn’t properly process why. the hurt of absent mother was expressed more out of anger, feeling as though there must have been something wrong with him. there were fewer and fewer letters sent to judith until he gave up altogether and thus, dan’s out of control behavior was born.

TEENAGE FEVER.    SUICIDE MENTION TW.  he struggled in school. his emotions betrayed him. instead of relishing a happy childhood, daniel found himself pushing everyone away, getting into fights, sneaking out late at night to run around the city streets with his friends and get into all sorts of trouble with them. he couldn’t count on his hands how many times the police picked him up and brought him to his dad’s doorstep. it only got worse once one of his best friends was found dead, written off as a suicide, though it didn’t add up in dan’s eyes and seemed so much more sinister. the young man was nearly deemed to be a lost cause, until he discovered his passion for writing. 

                                  language arts or literature was the last thing anyone would ever think to group with daniel abrams. but his english teacher noticed how well he could articulate his thoughts and feelings on paper, and submitted one of his pieces to a writing contest, which earned dan the win and a cash prize. bewildered by a talent he hadn’t even realized was in him, daniel embraced it. he started writing in a journal ( which he kept safely tucked away beneath the mattress of his bed ), documenting every feeling and thought as a way to express his emotions in a more productive manner. this talent earned him a full ride scholarship to ucla with a major in literature and plans of diving into some sort or creative writing career or perhaps becoming an english teacher, to follow in the footsteps of his high school teacher who he came to idolize.

                                  mere days into his freshman year, however, his high school sweetheart showed up in the middle of the night at his dorm with a positive pregnancy test. it was then the chaotic world as he knew it turned a new leaf, revealing a silver lining in the form of their daughter, penelope, who daniel hadn’t a clue, just yet, would save him. and so a shotgun wedding was quickly planned around the pair, both families either completely supportive or in utter disbelief. it was quick, it was cheap(ish), and it was stressful as all heck. but they were young, and in love, and were looking forward to starting a family together, despite it being a little earlier than initially planned.

“ADULT”HOOD.    fast forward five years, and they’re signing divorce papers. fortunately, it wasn’t messy. the two had simply grown apart as they matured in their respective ways, and remaining together was only causing a rift to develop between the two. the last thing they wanted, for the sake of their daughter, was built up resentment to tear the little family apart. his wife, who daniel initially thought to be the love of his life, blossomed into an absolute goddess; she was ambitious and knew exactly what she wanted. daniel, on the other hand, was still somewhat caught up in his ‘bad boy’ habits of drinking excessively and his career was still pretty up in the air. the two just didn’t compliment each others’ lifestyles anymore.

                                   daniel moved out but remained in california, settling for a bachelor’s apartment where he was able to have penelope every weekend. during this time, he finally cracked down and worked on finishing a novel he’d started years prior. within a year, he found a publisher who took interest in his grotesque works, and by the time daniel was twenty seven, his first bestseller hit the shelves, changing his life for the better with the ability to provide for his daughter without stress of landing another odd job ever again.

                                   as his fame increased, so did his desire to slink back into the shadows away from the limelight. at first, he enjoyed the wholesome book signings by day and grungy celebratory benders by night. but it grew old pretty fast and he certainly didn’t want to end up as another washed up shmuck. so, on a whim, daniel decided to move out of california completely, removing himself from the toxic lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to and shacking up on a beautiful piece of land in the rocky mountains of north carolina. the serenity and scenery certainly aided in his inspiration, as well as his unacknowledged lowkey addictions slowly being rehabilitated from his bloodstream.

OLD YELLER.    now, in his utmost prime at forty years old, he’s written numerous cult classics, a few of which have successful movie adaptations. he was lucky enough to land himself in a second marriage, though.... that one is now deteriorating as well because he literally doesn’t know how to maintain a healthy relationship. he received full custody of his daughter when she was sixteen, under the unfortunate circumstance of her mother’s untimely death. although they’d been separated for nearly twenty years, daniel was still very much affected by the loss, more so empathetically for penelope. he’s still hooked on the drink, though he’s definitely calmed down quite a bit from when he was a young buck. basically a messy, depressy old soul who uses sarcasm to deflect his true feelings.

CONNECTIONS

ESTRANGED WIFE.    first marriage was a bust, and the second is turning out to be no better. they haven’t hit rock bottom just yet, in his opinion (which would be finalizing a divorce lmao), and he’s unsure if they should work things out or not but also really.......doesn’t wanna go through the process of another divorce. plus he likes her and deep down adores their bickering. the reason(s) why things started falling apart between them can be discussed of course. lowkey debating on whippin this up as a big official wc but.... if anybody already here would like to snag it, i would 100% mclove it.

COLLABORATORS.    literally anyone he’s worked with over the years, whether they be fellow authors, publishers/publicists, journalists, screenplay writers, etc. yeehooo the possibilities are endless !!

FOLLOWERS.    anyone hooked on his books, whether devout fans from his early beginnings or people who newly discovered his fictional writings.

FORMER CLASSMATES.    could be from high school or university, but he was in california for the better part of his life aka not a mapleview native. former friends to foes & anything in between. dan’s that one kid who spiked the punch bowl at all the dances and years later probably snuck in party favors to snort off the bathroom sink during their high school reunion lmao whew !!

ANYTHING.    literally anything. i’m my groggy state of mind on my lack of creativity rn so please, i’m beggin. if daniel can enrich your characters’ lives in any way, shape, or form, hit me up and we’ll hatch a plan.

[chronicparagon]

Free Verse

I decided to move this to its own post to keep verses better organized and make Harmony’s information versatile. 

The profile for Harmony’s Free verse is below.

NAME: Harmony Halcyon NICKNAMES: Harm, Har, Harmy, Ha-chan, Har-chan, Mato Ciqana (by her family, which means Little Bear).

Her nickname in her family changes to Mato when she inherits her grandfather’s Lakota name in honor of graduating from high school. AGE: Varies by verse between 18 years to 26 years. Default age is 19-20. POSITION: Default verse is a university student majoring in nursing and member of the swim club. Becomes a certified midwife nurse later on. RESIDENCE: Grew up on the Black Hawk Reservation in Montana, United States. Her current location depends on the verse. FAMILY: Destiny Halcyon (mother), Lucas Halcyon (father), Issac “Mato” Halcyon (grandfather, deceased). NOTE: Mato means bear or fiercely angry in the Lakota language. Harmony’s relatives are found here: LINK

ETHNICITY: Native American (enrolled member of the Lakota) Note: She’s half Lakota Sioux, a quarter Crow (the Crow Nation), and a quarter Euro-American (Irish and British). SEXUALITY: Pansexual

RESIDENCE: Grew up on the Black Hawk Reservation in Montana, United States. She moves to Yokota Air Force Base near Tokyo before relocating to Iwatobi when her father retired from the Air Force.

IMAGE COLOR: Turquoise MOTIF ANIMAL: Grizzly bear SWIMMING STYLE: Butterfly, breaststroke, freestyle (crawl)

Reference

Art made by Yohao88

Appearance: Her long hair is dark brown, sometimes mistaken as black with long bangs and gray eyes. Harmony stands about 5 foot 4 inches (162.5 cm) who is toned due to working out with a pear-shaped figure. Her weight fluctuates between 135-140 pounds (61.2- 63.5 kg). 

Her style varies. Compared to many girls in Iwatobi, Harmony is deemed to be a bigger girl due to her figure and musculature. Harmony is a member of the Lakota tribe from her father’s side. It was a goodbye present from her grandfather before leaving Black Hawk. 

Harmony has three piercings. One on each ear lobe and she has a piercing on her tongue. When she swims, the piercings are replaced with retainers.

She also has features indicating her motif. Harmony has sharper canines to resemble a grizzly bear’s teeth. Hidden beneath her clothing are ghastly scars over her body. Her upper back, right shoulder from childhood. Growing up, there’s a reason why she opts to wear long sleeves. By the time she turned eighteen, Harmony received a tattoo on her upper back of an eagle.  

Note: Due to cultural norms, Harmony would conceal the tattoo in public in Japan. in other verses where she is located elsewhere, she would be more likely to reveal her tattoo and scars.

More information for it can be found here: Link

PERSONALITY: Generally, Harmony a shy girl who can get excited on occasion. This can be off-putting to other people, especially if she just met them. It makes her come off as socially awkward. Most of the time, she’s more reserved, often in the background. She fears that people won’t like her because of the color of her skin, her name, or the scars she hides. This makes her have little confidence in herself. It will take time for Harmony to warm up to someone. Once she does, she’s sweet, even affectionate. Her most noticeable traits are her kindness, being polite, and quiet nature. Much like a grizzly bear, she can be fierce, which may be a bit scary. It occurs when she witnesses injustice or when her friends are in trouble. This is a little bit of a contrast to what she was like living in Tokyo prior to moving to Iwatobi. She was more belligerent and had a habit of getting herself into trouble. This is explained more in detail to what brought this on in her full backstory, which is further down the profile. She’s stubborn, sometimes this can do more harm than good. Harmony means well, but even after living in Japan for several years, she still has much to learn and a lot to adjust to. Harmony is dedicated, sticking to her tasks to the end. The last thing she wants to do is let anyone down.

BASIC MEDICAL INFORMATION BLOOD TYPE O+ MENTAL DISORDERS: Depression, anxiety, insomnia MEDICAL PROBLEMS: Scars, family history of Type II diabetes, heart disease, and kidney disorders (tied to diabetes). More information can be found here: LINK

STATUSES  CURRENT STATUS: Stamina: 4/5 Body: 4/5 Mental strength: 2/5 Water repellency: 3/5 Logic: 3/5 Courage: 4/5 EXPECTED STATUS: Stamina: 5/5 Body: 5/5 Mental strength: 5/5 Water repellency: 5/5 Logic: 5/5 Courage: 6/5 

FULL BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Triggers: Fire, racism, xenophobia, death

Harmony Halcyon was born and raised in  Montana. Her parents owned a small bison ranch, and she used to spend her days helping her parents and riding her horse to endless plains. She loved the mountains that stand in the distance and the sky was open, limitless. As a child, she spent time with her paternal grandfather. He often told her various stories from legends passed down between generations and humorous misadventures of himself and his sisters as children. 

She had a Karelian bear dog named Sedona and a paint mare, Mojave. She used to take long horseback riding through the trails in the neighboring forest. Harmony was a happy child.

.Unfortunately, her life would dramatically change. Harmony was a child when her parents lost everything. It all started with fire. It grew and ravaged the wilderness, stretching far and wide. The Halcyons couldn’t save their home. The fire surrounded Harmony who was riding Mojave on their way home with Sedona in tow. The raging fire scared the horse, and the girl fell from Mojave’s back. She was trapped in the fire. A burning tree strikes her down, pinning her to the scorched ground. A desperate attempt to free herself burned her right hand and arm. Burning debris fell upon the girl. 

She couldn’t escape.But she wasn’t alone. Sedona desperately dug at the pile of fallen branches and ash. The dog pulled Harmony out and to the edge of a lake away from the smoke. Sedona left her, only to return with a rescue team following her. If it wasn’t for her Sedona, Harmony wouldn’t have survived. Mojave’s return without Harmony warned her parents and they acted quickly, only to find that rescuers found their daughter and was transported for burn treatments. The burns would remain as scars on her skin. Harmony struggled when she became ill from infections, a result of the burns. In the end, Harmony would pull through. But the same could not be said for the stability her family had.

The wildfire took everything. The herd was killed by the flames and stifling fumes. Harmony’s home engulfed by flames. It almost claimed her life.All that was left was her family, Mojave, Sedona, and a few of their belongings.

.The Halcyons had nowhere to go and the hospital bill was high, Indian Health Service couldn’t help cover all the costs. Employment was difficult to come by in Black Hawk.  No one in their small town would hire them, except two Air Force recruiters who met Harmony’s father, Lucas.  He took a chance that day. He enlisted and soon found out he must go to Yokota Base near Tokyo, Japan. The family made sacrifices before leaving the United States. Harmony’s heart broke when her parents sold Mojave. They couldn’t take her with them. The little girl could only watch when a strange man drove away with Mojave in a trailer behind his truck. Harmony wouldn’t ever see her again. 

 Thankfully, the family kept Sedona, and the family relocated when Harmony was ten years old. They lived modestly, just like always while sending some money back to help Mato make ends meet. She struggled in a new country. New expectations, new people, new language. She was rebellious as a child, not adjusting well to the culture shock. Children made fun of her trying to speak in Japanese and her appearance. She was darker compared to the other children. The children often question whether “Indians” still scalp people or live in tipis like in the old movies. They teased with war cries and left her out in most of their activities.Fitting in society was just part of the problem. Harmony couldn’t stand the sense of claustrophobia with the city enclosing around her. She stayed in the large city, almost forgetting what the stars looked like and it’s as though the sky that she once loved is imprisoned by towering skyscrapers.  She missed the mountains and valleys, and the sky that could go on for thousands of miles.

Yet, Harmony soon got used to it. Slowly adjusting to the life on the base and in an urban setting. The family learned to speak Japanese and blend in the best they could. Unfortunately, there would be another tragedy inflicted on Harmony when she turned thirteen. Her grandfather passed away, succumbing to his long battle for hsi health.

First her home, Mojave, and now her grandfather.  Harmony felt isolated, hurt, and yet she couldn’t do anything. Kids made fun of her for not looking the same, her necklace, and although she became more fluent in Japanese, she still stuck out. She tried to make the most of it but wished things were different. Isolation has left her longing for friends, becoming withdrawn and unsure of herself. This led her to get into trouble for any sort of attention. This included getting into fights.After several years, Harmony’s father went into retirement from the Air Force. 

Her parents grew to love Japan, but missed the quiet life in the country. They were also afraid of Harmony getting into trouble, such as joining gangs that were rampant in the city. They thought Iwatobi would be the perfect place and relocated there. Harmony’s mother, Destiny, received an education from Yokota and gets a job as an elementary school teacher in Iwatobi. Lucas got a job as a security guard at Samezuka Academy, and Harmony transferred to Iwatobi High School.

After moving from the city to the quiet town, Harmony must acclimate to another dramatic change of environment. This time, it was easier because Iwatobi is closer to nature, just the way she likes it. However, making friends isn’t easy, which led her to wonder if joining a club would help in achieving that goal. After searching for all the options, Harmony discovered the Iwatobi Swim Club. A chance to challenge herself, make a name for herself, and make friends.

[tigerlilynoh]

Job & Family DS: Aftermath - The Little Prince

Words: 2,633 Spoiler warning:  Contains spoilers for the end of Job & Family.

“Come in.”

Kay was standing beside the desk in the private quarters that she kept in Hell.  She almost never used her quarters because she found sleeping in Hell too difficult and she always had plenty of work to do.  The only time she ever went in there was to be alone, which was undoubtedly why Joseba looked thoroughly confused to have been invited in out of the blue.  He entered cautiously, but not meekly- never meekly.

“Shut the door.”  She instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.”  He closed the door, then stood at casual attention.

She stared at him for a moment, studying him.  His manifested appearance in Hell alluded to the man he'd been millennia ago, but with several distinctly Abyssal features.  He tended to average just under seven feet tall with olive skin instead of the glass or stone shells that were popular with many demons.  His hair & eyes were black.  A pair of large black horns protruded from just behind his hairline- combined with his muscular body, it reminded her of a minotaur without the bull’s face.

“I need you to be honest with me-  I won't be offended if the answer is no.”  She reassured him.  “Do you want to have sex with me?”

She could sense him mentally tripping over the question.  He was eager, worried, confused, skeptical, aroused, anxious- all at once.  It took him several seconds to decide how to respond.  All the while Kay watched him with a neutral expression, intentionally pushing him in a whole new way to see if he'd break.  But he didn't let her down- if there was one thing Joseba was, it was reliable.

“Yes, ma’am.”  The corner of his mouth curled upward.  “Very much so actually.”

“Here’s the situation.”  Kay spoke with her normal commanding presence.  She needed to maintain her dominance over him and, as an added perk, she'd observed long ago that it seemed to turn him on.  “I need to get pregnant and I believe that a Knight would help me produce a strong heir while reinforcing stability in the realm.  I’d prefer that you be the one to get me pregnant.”

“You’d…”  Joseba hesitated, suddenly being asked to participate in something much larger than casual sex.  “I don't know anything about children.”

“I'm not asking you to be a dad to the child- I actually don't want you to be overly involved in the child's upbringing & life.  This isn't you getting a place in the monarchy or special say in anything really.  I don't even want anyone to know you're the donor-parent.”  Kay laid it out for him in the coldest terms to set his expectations early.  “I want us to have a secret sexual relationship in which you will occasionally wear an optimal meatsuit.  Are you interested?”

“Optimal?”

“A body you'd be proud to wear in all respects.  Strong, smart, healthy, virile- and someone you feel comfortable in because if you think I'm demanding during combat you have no idea.”  She could sense his lust flare.  “I’m used to rougher sex than most people have, lasting for much longer.  And you won't finish until I tell you to finish.”

“When do we start?”

“Go find a body.”  Kay instructed as she picked up a fertility elixir from the desk and started drinking it.

It had taken longer than Kay had hoped for her to get pregnant- or at least she was pretty sure she was pregnant.  The truth was that her divination spell had been a little hard to read, which wasn't really surprising.  If she was pregnant it was only by a matter of days.  Every time she’d had sex with Joseba while he was in his meatsuit, she would perform the spell for several days after.  She wanted to get a jump on the pregnancy as soon as possible in order to enact the second part of her plan.  So even with the possibility that it was a false positive, she decided to proceed.

She called a gathering of all the Knights of Hell that she was on friendly terms with.  The 31 Knights gathered in the throne room for her announcement.  Each of them was curious & excited by the unusual meeting- except for Joseba.  He wasn't particularly thrilled by what was about to happen, but he understood why it was important- more importantly he understood that it wasn't his place to have a say in the matter.

“Thank you all for coming.  After much deliberation I've decided that it would be in the interest of our people for me to have a child- and for that child's other parent to be a Knight.”  A small murmur went out through the crowd.  “In order to maximize the protection for my child, I would like the donor-parent to remain uncertain.  I would like as many of you as possible to take a personal interest in the protection of my child.  As such, I invite any & all of you to have sex with me in order to achieve a pregnancy.”

She could feel the crowd split into several different groups.  Some Knights were shocked by the announcement.  Several were simply uninterested, though over twenty were interested- nearly a dozen were very interested.  She'd expected some volunteers, but she should've guessed that the species of Abyssal so closely tied to the origin of Hell would jump at the chance to fuck the First Light and potentially father an heir to the throne.  Back in her old timeline she'd had some sexual adventures, but she was facing having sex with 22 people in relatively close succession in order to obscure the actual date & source of conception.

“In the interest of ambiguity of the donor-parent, I've decided that any Knight who would like to participate must wear a healthy & prime specimen meatsuit of Bantu ethnicity.”  She instructed in order to be consistent with the meatsuit Joseba had used.  Ideally every Knight would look at the child and not be able to tell if against 22:1 odds the child was theirs.  Having some physical uniformity to the physiological part of the equation went a long way.  “Lastly, with the exception of attending meetings of the High Council, I will be naked in my personal quarters for the next week.  Dismissed.”

Kay stood up, walked straight down the center of the hall, and out the door back to her quarters.  She'd barely left the room before she sensed a dozen Knights travel to Earth in search of an appropriate body.

Whether or not she'd been pregnant at the beginning of the week of relentless sex, she was confirmed pregnant by Morrison at the end of it.  Regardless, in her mind she assumed that Joseba was the actual donor-parent, though she wasn't quite sure why it mattered to her.  Hopefully some of his admirable qualities would somehow find their way into her child, but she expected the child to be fine either way.

She could detect a little frustration on Joseba’s part throughout the week of sex.  On more than one occasion he'd come to her quarters to find a queue.  He stood around watching several of his friends & fellow Knights fuck her until she couldn't walk, while she was potentially carrying his child.  Despite his annoyance at the situation, he didn't show it and took several turns at her in order to establish some known basis for being the donor-parent.

As the pregnancy progressed, all of the Knights that had joined in the week drifted by the throne room periodically to check on her & the baby.  It was actually rather endearing when she thought about it.  She had 22 Knights, the most terrifying creatures in Hell, all ready to go with her to a lamaze class.  To her relief the Knights that were possible donor-parents didn't seem jealous of each other, if anything they were closer for having the shared personal interest in the child.

Kay & Joseba continued their secret meetings rendezvous throughout the pregnancy.  Though Joseba had to stop using a vessel for fear of leaving physical evidence that might be found during one of Morrison’s semi-weekly exams.  He also insisted on having gentler sex when she entered her third trimester.  Kay agreed that it was probably for the best, but she still held him to her high standards of performance.

She hated the last two months of the pregnancy.  The only thing that would alleviate her back pain and random discomforts was sitting on her throne.  When she was on the Seat it almost felt like Hell itself was trying to soothe her.  Part of her wondered whether sitting on the Seat was affecting the baby, she could feel Hell’s tingling power radiate through her crotch & back into her belly, but she was beyond pulling punches on the Abyssal aspect of the child.  It would be at least ¾ Abyssal, conceived in Hell, & nurtured by Hell.

She gave birth in Hell, trying to get whatever advantages the environment might provide her.  Her mom had told her that Sa’dah’s birth had been the easiest by far.  Kay found the labor to be an ordeal, but manageable and shorter than it likely would've been on Earth.  Throughout labor Joseba had hovered down the hallway, but didn't risk overstepping by trying to get in to see her.  Ruby had been stuck in a meeting on Earth and hadn't been able to make it down in time to be there to help her.  At one point she nearly cried at the thought that Sam couldn't be there for her either.  Despite the lack of emotional support, she gave birth in just over four hours.  It was exhausting & uncomfortable in every way possible, but when she saw her son she understood it could've been much worse.

Her son had light brown skin, intensely dark brown eyes & her dimples.  Two pairs of small black horns were on his forehead just inside his short black frizzy hair.  Starting at the base of his neck a ridge of black spikes that matched his horns ran down his spine to his tailbone.  His light brown skin had irregular patches where it abruptly darkened, fading into black, with the center turning just a bit red.

After a few minutes of Morrison & the other aides checking on her & the baby, she excused everyone.  She laid in her bed, staring at her son.  He wasn't the product of some loving relationship.  He was the product of many tactical decisions.  No more than an hour old and countless expectations were being placed on him.  It wasn't fair- but she knew perfectly well that life wasn't fair.  She'd grown up with the weight of the realm ready to rest on her and any kid she'd have would be the same way.  It was just the reality of the situation and in a wholly unexpected moment it broke her heart.  She cried at the realization that she loved him- she hadn't expected to love her baby.

In the whirlwind of emotions, she was struck by how she missed Kit.  He'd been the closest thing she'd ever had to a boyfriend and he'd been the only person that she'd actually wanted to have a child with.  One of the times she'd gotten pregnant the two of them had joked about keeping it, but they didn't even get a chance to have a serious conversation about it before she’d miscarried.  But he was dead and everything was different.  She had different people in her life to provide her support- and one in particular who needed her support.

She dragged her fingertips along her son’s chest.  He nestled into her more, then held onto one of her fingers.

“I know it seems like it's just you & me, but I promise we're gonna be okay.  We've got help.”

Sam quickly helped Kay with her baby bag as he held the door to his family's cabin open for her.  She carefully maneuvered the baby carrier into living room, then took a seat on the couch next to Ruby, who was nursing the five week old Anansi.  Dylaniel leaned against the dining table, ready to move forward to see the newest member of the family.  Dean was sitting on the floor play with Kaylee while Tom nervously hovered, eager to help however he could.

Kay pulled back the top of the baby carrier and lifted out her two day old son.  In order to make it more comfortable for all parties involved, a foam pillow shaped to accommodate the spikes on the baby's back had been positioned below him.  She collected the pillow along with him in order to make it easier to hold him.  He was wrapped in a soft black blanket that was embroidered with the crimson blossoms of Hell.

“This is Malek- or Mal for short.”  She showed him off to the family.  Everyone silently stared at him for several awkward seconds.  She didn't blame them for being shocked, aside from Dylaniel, none of them had ever seen an inhuman looking baby before.

“Your kid has horns.”  Dean observed quietly.  “Not judging- just not used to seeing them on a kid.”

“Sam & Ruby have more kids with horns than me.”  Kay said a little defensively.  “It's just that mine maybe can't put his away.”

“He's cute.”  Sam offered a smile, then sat down on the armchair closest to Kay.  “Can I hold him?”

“Of course.”  Kay spoke through some tightness in her throat.  She handed Malek to Sam, taking care to make both of them comfortable.  “You just have to watch the spikes.  They aren't sharp yet, but it can hurt if you have one pressing on your arm for a half hour.”

“We're fine.”  Sam gently rocked the newborn.  Malek yawned and stretched.  “Hello, Mal.  It's nice to meet you.  I'm Sam, your uncle.”

“Malek, a little right on the nose there.”  Ruby told Kay, then explained for the others.  “It means king.”

“I like it.”  Sam assured Kay.

“Thanks.”  Kay rubbed the back of her neck anxiously.  “I have a big favor to ask of everyone.  I want him to have a childhood outside of the Citadel, like I did.  I want him to have a connection with Earth.  Can I bring him to visit pretty often?”

“Of course.”  Sam said.  “And we can babysit if you're too busy to come up too.”

“I would also be willing to help.  Especially if he's less aggressively clingy than someone.”  Dylaniel said nodding to Kaylee.

“She’s a snuggler.”  Ruby agreed.

“And I suspect that there are several people in this room that would happily be on the receiving end of that,”  Dylaniel acknowledged.  “but I’d rather take my chances with the spiky tabula rasa.”

“You always did like the Badlands.”  Kay told her cousin, grateful for his sometimes unconventional preferences.

“I’d have a hell of a time explaining him to J, but if I can babysit somewhere else or at the bunker I'll try to be available too.”  Dean offered.

“One question, if he's gonna be in Hell most of the time he’ll be an adult in about two months.”  Ruby pointed out.

“I had Morrison give him a variant on the non-aging spell that I have.  Mal should age consistently with Earth’s time, unless I tweak it.”  Kay explained.

“Damn, I was hoping we could at least get one kid’s puberty down to just a few weeks long.”  Ruby joked.

“Before you all start jumping at babysitting for me,”  Kay hesitated to say anything that might make them revoke their offers.  “I guess it goes without saying, but- he's a baby and all, but he's half Knight.  I'm not sure what to expect.”

“How bad could it be?”  Sam asked while gently bouncing the dozing Malek.

“In this family, never ask a question like that.”

[blackchristiannewswire]

When a Conservative Republican Black Pastor Is Told he Is 'Not Black Enough', Dr. Michael Brown Is Led to Ask 'Is Black a Color or an Ideology?'

[caption id="attachment_428870" align="aligncenter" width="564"] (PHOTO: REUTERS/EDUARDO MUNOZ) Protesters hoist a sign reading "black lives matter" as they demonstrate in New York City.[/caption] One of my friends is a black pastor. He is also a conservative Republican. As a result of his political views, he has been told by many of his friends that he is not black enough. And that leads to an obvious question: Is black an ideology and not just a color? If so, since when, and why? I imagine that Kanye West would have something to say about this today. He has come under heavy criticism for his positive tweet about black conservative Candace Owens, followed by even more intense criticism for his open support of President Trump. As noted by the strongly-leftist Teen Vogue, "People have expressed everything from rage at what they feel is a form of betrayal in his coming out as a Trump supporter to concern about his mental health." But where is it written that blacks must be Democrats or liberals? Where is the betrayal? As Chance the Rapper tweeted, "Black people don't have to be democrats." (By no means, though, was he expressing support for Trump, as his following comments made clear.) It's true that a large percentage of white evangelicals voted for Donald Trump. But that was ideologically driven based on their evangelical convictions, not their whiteness. For them, defeating the ultra-liberal, pro-abortion Democrat, Hillary Clinton was of paramount concern. (According to exit polls, 57 percent of whites voted for Trump, 37 for Clinton, and 6 percent for other candidates, or they didn't respond to the poll. So, the white vote as a whole was hardly monolithic. Plus, there has been a steady stream of white evangelical resistance to Trump.) It's true that a large percentage of American Jews voted for Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. That too was ideologically driven, since most American Jews are quite liberal, espousing a highly humanistic form of Judaism. In contrast, the more traditional a Jewish person is, the more he or she is to vote Republican. Exit polls also indicated that two-thirds of Asians and Latinos voted for Hillary (compared to slightly over one-quarter who voted for Trump), and among other races, 56 percent voted for Hillary and 36 percent for Trump. So, while the clear majority of non-white voters stood for Hillary, they were hardly monolithic in their vote. In contrast, the black vote for Hillary was 89 percent, with only 8 percent for Trump (and 3 percent other or no answer). Why this overwhelmingly high percentage of black support for Hillary? It's perfectly understandable that many black voters would have cast their lot with President Obama, recognizing the historic importance of having our first black president. But their support for him in 2012 was not that much higher than their support for Hillary Clinton in 2016 or other Democratic candidates in previous elections. Why the assumption that blacks will vote Democrat? On average, black Americans are more religious than white Americans, and many black Americans have strong, pro-family roots. How then do they end up being Democrats in such high numbers? Planned Parenthood hasn't done them any favors. (Massive understatement.) The welfare system has not elevated their status. Identity politics have not served them well. Why, then, can a black pastor be told that he is not black enough because of his conservative political views? The obvious answer is that African Americans share a unique history (and, often, ongoing experience), because of which they share certain beliefs and convictions and outlooks. In their mind, it is the Democratic party that has shown an interest in their well-being, that understands their struggles, and that wants to work with them against inequality and injustice. Many African Americans also see the Republican Party as being insensitive to their needs. It is, some think, the rich (white) man's party. It's almost as if, in the minds of many black Americans, it was Republicans who enslaved them in the past. (Interestingly, from what I have gleaned anecdotally, more recent African immigrants do not lean Democrat in such large numbers. But I'm not aware of solid data to support this.) All this being said, it is an insult to believe that African Americans cannot think for themselves, as if they, of all ethnic groups in our country, are unable to break out of the pre-conceived mold. It is true that Taleeb Starkes listed "Lack of Diversity" as one of "The Top 5 Issues Facing Black Americans." In his words, "Blacks repeatedly demand an 'honest dialogue or debate about race.' But how can there ever be an honest dialogue about race between blacks and whites when there is virtually no honest dialogue between blacks and blacks? It's hypocritical. And if a black doesn't think, 'whites are ultimately responsible for black people's problems,' they're labeled a 'sell-out,' 'Uncle Tom,' or 'race-traitor.' "As long as this type of groupthink exists, race-reverends of the Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson type will continue to be celebrated while independent black thinkers such as Professors Thomas Sowell and Walter Williams will be shunned." This is certainly a problem, but perhaps now is a good time to put these issues on the table again and ask: Must blacks be Democrats? And what (or who) are you betraying if you are not? What if Trump's economic policies proved beneficial for black Americans? Would that change their vote? And what would it take for Republicans to make African Americans feel welcomed and esteemed? These days, it's not just black intellectuals like Professors Sowell and Williams who are making the case for conservatism. It's voices like Diamond and Silk. And maybe even voices like Kanye. Either way, whichever way black Americans decide to vote, my only encouragement is this (and I look in the mirror as I speak as a white evangelical): Don't allow groupthink to do the work for you. You are far better than that, and our nation needs your independent voices. We need you to think for yourselves.

Dr. Michael Brown (www.askdrbrown.org) is the host of the nationally syndicated Line of Fire radio program. His latest book is Saving a Sick America: A Prescription for Moral and Cultural Transformation. Connect with him on Facebook or Twitter.