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stardewremixed · 5 months ago

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So... I was scrolling through fanart which turned into impromptu stream-of-consciousness writing prompts. I hope you like how it turned out.

WARNING: (Mild) smut, references to alcohol, drugs, and smoking. (Does not assume Farmer's gender).

Abigail - Organizes the town charity softball games, breaks a few windows (and a few hearts). Tough girl to hide her insecurities - you know the ones - her parents don't get her or support her and she's lonely as an only child (still living at home with her parents). She has this smug side smile when she's got you right where she wants you and will argue with you over trivial matters because she has to be right. She pitches in when there's a town disaster, the first to roll up her sleeves, not afraid to get dirty and work hard. Would absolutely be the tank in your DnD party. She dominates no matter what sphere she's in, including the bedroom. And Abigail is as wild and adventurous in bed as she is out of it. Oh and you always do it at the farmhouse because she's loud (and her parents are light sleepers).

Penny - shy and sweet as usual, intimidated by the ladies of the town, especially Abigail and Haley. Always carrying books, keeps her head down, and her heart is plagued by being the daughter of an alcoholic and a sailor who abandoned her mom. Dreams of a Beast to rescue her Beauty, would kill (metaphorically) for that library and yellow ball gown, but doesn't actually believe she's that pretty, even though she's stunning and educated and articulate, when she's not stumbling over her words in painful shyness. Reads everything she can get her hands on. Would write a children's novel if she could ever work up the courage to ask Elliott to be her editor. She is the blushy kind of lover and reads up on tips and tries to apply what she's learned. You think it's freaking adorable when she asks for 'sex lessons.'

Haley is not a natural blond (*gasp*) - we know! We were shocked too. She's notoriously vain but it's to make up for the fact that her mother was a supermodel and never had time to be a real mom, so she desperately wants attention and to be noticed as beautiful and worthy. Critiques her nose, the shape of her breasts, her thighs, her brows, her hair style, and hopes to someday love herself as much as her mirror does. Got the Dino tattoo on her lower back as a drunken dare from Emily and now she kinda likes it because it makes her not so perfect for once and that's a relief. She wears the best lingerie - pretty, feminine, lacy. And her fantasy she shares with you after a few too many Cosmopolitans? To do it in front of a full length mirror.

Emily - yes the girl absolutely presses paste jewels on her face because why not? She's the cool big sis (stepsister of Haley). The free spirit. Blue hair. Who cares? Other people's opinions don't really define her. Always wearing multiple necklaces and bracelets and rings. This girl has rings. Believes in crystal healing. Lets her sleeve slip off her shoulder after one too many drinks at half-price karaoke nights. She gives you that side-eye, daring you to take her home. And this girl has got some freaky passion (in a good way of course) and yes, she's flexible. It's not that she is really into one night stands, but she doesn't get hung up on the morality of sex. She just goes where the wind blows and enjoys every moment. No expectations. No labels. Just serious fun.

Maru - is a powerhouse genius with a sort of perma-frown on her face when she's concentrating that's somehow annoyingly cute. It's never quite good enough - whatever she happens to be working on. She has those glorious thick curls always bouncing around as she moves from project to project with eager determination. Summer humidity might create the great frizz storm, but she's too focused to bother taming it. Her rims keep it out of her eyes. Always a gadget or two in this girl's hands and she doesn't mind the Inspector jokes. She is far too serious about science and technology to worry about (or even notice) the random taunts of a more average intelligence population. But just because she's super smart doesn't mean she isn't kind. It just might take her longer to notice you, but that hyperfixation, those beautiful eyes, when they are on you, it's really special.

Leah- when doesn't she have paint on her nose? Dried clay on her clothes? Ink beneath her fingernails? Art is her life and the forest outside her door is a veritable landscape of dreams, the mountain tat on her sleeve a mere imitation. Her thick and wild red braid flows free and swishes back and forth as she moves and every once in a while she gets self-conscious. She knows she is pretty but she would rather have someone notice and appreciate her art. But there's something super sexy about the half-buttoned shirt, suspenders, and the nervous tuck of hair over her ear. People fall in love with her everyday but not everyone stays, as she's learned. Still she perseveres and pursues her love of art, capturing raw, pure moments away from her former bustling city life. When you offered to pose for her and be a subject for her art, it wasn't initially meant to be sexual. But she couldn't hide the flicker of interest in her eyes. And then a few weeks later when you finally kissed good night in her doorway, it was like a fire had been released. You tore each other's clothes off and did it right there standing up, then again halfway to the bed and finally made it to the bed for the third round.

Sebastian - the wild, just-rolled-outta-bed hair that's too long and his mother is always saying he should cut it, but he doesn't listen, just like the warnings she gives about the cigs perched between his lips ("those things will kill ya"). Multiple piercings, skulls on shirts, arm bands, the ripped hoodies - all symbols of his rebellious youth carried on because he can't shake the ghosts of his past. Secretly afraid that he is just a teenage boy trapped in an adult body. Hiding behind clouds of smoke and blue glowing screens make it easier to deal with the fact that he didn't follow his dreams. Freelance programmer. Dungeon master. Designing s video game. Lives in his mom's unfinished basement because it's quiet and Maru used to be scared of the dark. So when he does surface and you remember he's alive, it's actually a big deal. He made an effort and when you thank him, he just shrugs in that sexy casual way and says he wanted to see you today. It's simple but so meaningful. He's quiet but he loves you in simple ways - stealing glances from his computer, using coupons to buy your favorite foods at Pierre's, and delivering a piece of furniture you bought at his mom's shop (and conveniently 'forgot' so he would have to bring it to you, and he knows this and did it anyway). Oh and there was the time your computer crashed in the middle of the night (yes, really) and you were in the middle of applying for a farm grant and thought you lost everything you'd been working on for weeks, and you cried and called him, and he came over to fix it and recovered the data. And you may have made out and landed in bed together after (it was a dark and stormy night and the rain is like an aphrodisiac for you). You apologized a dozen times and said this isn't what you called him for and it wasn't supposed to be a midnight booty call. He laughs and kisses you gently and says he wouldn't have minded it if it was because he's wanted you badly for so long. And you went for round 2.

Sam has so much energy, too much, and he usually channels it into making mix tapes, half-finishing songs, pranking Morris and Shane at JojaMart, and skating half-pipe. But if you thought he was an empty airhead, think again. Behind the beanies, cut off sleeves, and ripped jeans, the crazy hair, and goofy smiles, there's a heart of gold. He will kneel down and tie Vincent's shoes for the five hundredth time, even though his kid bro should know by now how to do it. He'll carry those groceries all the way back to Evelyn's house for her, chattering about animal shapes in the cloud and a wicked sweet song he heard on the radio. Maybe someday he will write a jingle for the airwaves too. He will work a double shift so Shane can take Jas to swim lessons or the dentist or because Marnie was irresponsible again and left his god niece alone again late at night. And he will always buy his friends a round at the Saloon. Even if he's broke and spent all his coin on some vintage rock vinyls and the sugary cereal obsession of the week. He's a kid at heart, but he rocks hard and loves hard. That youthful exuberance is just what you need - bubble baths with rubber ducks, half-burnt pizza, dollar stor rose petals, and (root) beers in bed, making you giggle when he gives you foot massages, and tickling you with his tongue (oh yes, he knows all your sweet spots)!

Harvey may be older and mild-mannered, but he remembers little details about all his patients, whom he has come to know as friends and surrogate family. He never met his dad, his mom passed when he was a kid, and he was raised by his grandpa on canned pork and beans, microwave dinners, and model planes. His grandpa was a man of a few words, but they would paint models every evening. Sometimes they'd go out to the airstrip and watch planes take off and Grandpa would reminisce about the "good Ole days" when he still flew in the Air Force. And he always wore ties so the doc has kept up the tradition, and he still wears the coats with the elbow patches that smell of pipe tobacco and peppermint. And even though grandpa has been gone for a dozen or so years, Harvey still paints models most evenings. And every once in a while, he drives out to that airstrip with you to watch the planes while eating tunafish and pickle sandwiches and sipping wine in paper cups. And when he holds your hand, when he puts his arm around you, when he makes love to you, it's like he fits in your life and your body perfectly. Oh yes! The doctor is in!

Elliott - for all his flowery prose, his day to day speech is actually pretty down to earth once you get to know him. Maybe he comes across as a bit of a snob with his extensive vocabulary, but he really just wants to impress you, not turn you off. He (literally) likes long walks on the beach, dreamy piano sonatas, and long soulful ballads. On Chat nights you can find him loosening his ties, letting his hair down, and kicking back a pint with his BFF at the bar. He is never awake before 9:30 or 10 because his writer brain comes alive late at night. He has a flawless complexion (and he's proud of his skin care and hair routine). Inspiration might strike anywhere so he always carries a pen and notepad in his pocket and says things like "can I quote you on that?" for the Pelican Town Times, a newspaper he's trying to revive and has a circulation of maybe 3 people. He's always publishing poems under a pseudonym but his unpublished novel is his pride and joy and he doesn't let anybody read it so when he finally shares an excerpt with you one day it's a really important moment. And of course, when he does finally publish, the dedication is to you, which will make you cry, and he also dedicate it to the particularly bothersome seagull, which makes you laugh, the one that always squawks at the most inopportune times like when you two are trying to "have a romantic moment." His bed might be a little creaky and his cabin a bit drafty, but he treats you and your body like royalty (and to regular nightly full body massages).

Alex - yeah, he's not a complicated guy. He likes sports, surf, and sun. Granny has been his favorite, the first woman in his heart, and he's kinda spoiled by all her love and attention (yes she still cuts the crusts off his sandwiches and does his laundry), but he isn't a brat. He can fix a leaky roof, a leaky sink, a leaky sprinkler system. He mows the entire practice field at the high school in the spring, rakes leaves in the fall and shovels snow in the winter for his neighbors. He still sells ice cream from time to time in the summer, but usually works as a seasonal lifeguard on Ginger Island. Sure, he might be a bit disconnected and doesn't always know what his partners want, but when he's wrong and you tell him, he admits it. And while he can lift you up on his shoulders so you can pick fruit in the orchard and he has the stamina of a Greek god in bed, he doesn't brag about it (at least not very often). He really just wants to make you happy above all else. Oh and he wants to be a dad someday.

Shane was like a drug, in the beginning - you're addicted to this man, dad bod, scruffy face, and all. You love him in spite of his mean and grumpy exterior. Somehow insults turn into foreplay. Maybe it's toxic but you don't care. This man sets records in bed, and he's not a one-hit wonder. As you start showing him affection and stick around despite his numerous attempts to scare him off, he realizes you're here to stay and maybe he can have something of a life again. So he cleans himself up, goes to therapy, quits drinking, and detoxes. Boy! It's not pretty. But it's worth it to him if it means he can have you. And that makes you love him all the more. Sure he's still addicted to Joja colas, but that's really not so bad. Nothing fazes him. Chasing down cows in a thunderstorm, setting Jas' broken arm, putting out a barn fire, rescuing you from a capsized fishing boat, carrying you out from the mines for the umpteenth time, even a chicken landing on his head while you're discussing favorite sex positions in the garden. Come on. That should have elicted a laugh. He's come a long way from that scowling drunk in the corner at the Saloon who just wanted angry hookup sex. He has become your rock just like you were for him all those years ago.

#stardew valley headcanon #sdv headcanon #stardew remixed #sdv abigail #sdv penny #sdv haley #sdv emily #sdv maru #sdv leah #sdv sebastian #sdv sam #sdv harvey #sdv elliott #sdv alex #sdv shane

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hangingslothcentral · 2 years ago

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happy trans day of visibility! I know it's rough out there right now, especially for those of us who have other marginalised identities as well as trans and/or nonbinary-ness, because so often it seems like the news is either full of vitriol against us or going out of its way to frame our pain, discomfort, suffering and death as the only things that matter, leaving next to no room for the real joy which can be a part of the trans experience. so I want to tell you this:

in January someone important to me started using the right pronouns for me for the first time after years of really struggling to get my pronouns right. we've spoken about it before and whilst he understood what I was telling him in principle, he couldn't really follow through on it because it just didn't compute in his head. it was not an act of malice but a failure to conceptualise, and i didn't force the issue as much as i could have because i didn't want to (which is a totally valid choice).

i have, however, written several long coming out letters which this person has read, had many long, difficult conversations with them, tried my best to provide educational resources, and generally pointed out when their language or choices further marginalised people like me. none of this had a measurable impact on the way they talked about me.

last year, in April, I started taking testosterone and it's had this massively positive impact on my life. I'm happier, less anxious, and more comfortable in my skin. the change is really, really dramatic, though it's come on slowly. it's hard to fully articulate the difference this has made because it's so big but also so subtle. it's like existing just became incrementally easier and easier.

I'm happier and it bleeds into every facet of my life. I'm making healthier choices, I'm easier to talk to, and it's a far cry from the absolute rock bottom I hit several years back which this person bore witness to and which coincided with when i first came out. and it was just me being happier which made him understand what my identity meant, and which ultimately got him to the place where he uses the right name and pronouns for me.

i'm incredibly lucky to have had the access to medical transition that I have had. what should be the bare minimum of care is extremely hard for so many people to access, and it's so often down to the luck of where you're born, your ethnicity and your level of general health, and none of that is fair or right.

access to medical transition hasn't just changed my own life for the better, it's helped the people around me see me more clearly, and the joy I so obviously experience as a result has helped them completely reframe their views not just of me, but of the entire trans community.

(i do also wanna say that I know it's not going to be the case for everyone that they'll be able access medical transition at all and that even if they do it's not a magical trump card which will suddenly make everyone who's not accepting of your identity come around to seeing you as you really are.)

absolutely it's important that we hold people to account for the harm they do to trans people. it's important to remember the names of the people we lose every year to systemic failures preventing access to trans health care and as a direct result of a failure to empathetically educate the public about what trans and nonbinary identities are. there is a need to outline in detail all the ways we're being let down and how this harms not just us but everyone around us, and to outline how these problems are only more difficult for trans and nonbinary folks who also have any skin colour besides white, or who are disabled, or mentally ill, or in poverty, or any number of other factors which make it harder for them to move through the world.

but! trans and nonbinary joy is also desperately, desperately important. it can be a beacon of light to those of us in dark places who have forgotten that joy is even a possibility. it can give hope to children whose families turn against them and let them down. and it can also change the world. i know this because i've seen it happen in this very small way, where one person's views were reshaped by nothing more than me living my life and being happy in my own skin.

last of all, know that you are loved, whether you're out or not, whether you're happy or not, whether people see you for who you are or not. you are loved.

#trans day of visibility #tdov 2023 #tdov

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letterslaura · 9 months ago

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Reading as an articulating axis and practices involving Educational Technologies.

Coucou everyone!

You may have guessed by the title of this post that today our topic is around reading practice, so let's dive together into these letters:

Bursting with creativity was the best thing about being a kid, if you ask me. I remember making the most out of an afternoon in the backyard, by flying to whole new realities in my head. I owe that to all the books I read throughout my childhood. Thanks to my mom, who would always take me to the municipal library, reading was pleasant and satisfying. It was different than watching a movie, for I got some power over the elements presented in the form of words (although we have some world/character description, the final images in our heads might not be the same as what the author originally viewed), creating a deeper connection with the narrative.

As I got older, I tried to read books in English a few times, but it was frustrating. The impatient 15-year-old Laura did not enjoy the fact that she did not know a lot of English words, so the process of looking them up in the dictionary was quite overwhelming, and I could never finish a whole book. After giving up for a while, I tried bilingual books, which have each page in English and in Portuguese. Having the translation of every word makes the reading more fluid and natural, it keeps a story’s sweet flow.

In school, English reading was not the focus. Most of the time, the reading practice was limited to small texts, either on a handout or in the textbook. It was never as interesting as the reading activities in Portuguese, where we had to spot different textual genres and linguistic elements or reflect on the story’s morals. Even though these activities were sometimes not the most appealing, they offered much more possibilities of engagement and comprehension. Today, Brazil’s National Common Curricular Base (BNCC), has taken reading in the English language in a different direction. The reading process should maintain its authenticity, taking into account many important nuances, such as interdisciplinary approach, cultural and linguistic diversity, digital literacy and critical thinking. Further on, the axis of reading in English in basic education is also known as “reading and viewing” and it englobes the skills of reading and comprehending texts in English. Following these guidelines, teachers should be able to work with interesting authentic texts in English, from traditional books to websites, social media posts, news and so on.

In my opinion, the best reading technologies to exist are the simplest and most traditional: google translate and dictionaries. It goes without saying that you’ll find any word you need in dictionaries. But there is so much more than that! In a dictionary you can find a lot of example sentences, synonyms and antonyms. That’s why they will never cease to be a reader’s most important tool, our best friend. Google Translate, on the other hand, might have caused some of you disgust. But it is, in fact, the fastest and most practical translating tool. There are many words that are better understood by translating and a lot of time can be saved this way. Furthermore, on Google Translate there's also the possibility of listening to the pronunciation of the words, which can enrich the reading experience even more.

I really enjoyed writing about the development of reading practices in school! How joyful are these memories! They really inspired me to read for fun more often. I hope that you also get inspired to read something! Don't forget to leave a comment below. See you!

XOXO

Laura

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fantomette22 · 2 years ago

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HELLO THERE

So, we’ve had a lot of discussions about this (you know mine by now skwhwwhwh) but what do you think Gehrman did pre-Byrgenwerth/hunting? His family, class status, occupation etcetera, things like that.

Alright is it TIME!!!

Thank you so much, I can finally share my « headcanons »/story about Gehrman’s backstory! Yes I have those ideas since September too…

I won’t talk about everything in details + there’s things I’m not settle with but it’s still going to be long and a bit messy sorry. It could have some dark theme too just so you know. I hope you will enjoy! Oh, and this is mostly in the interpretation of my current fic verse

His family first:

He’s from a middle/working Class, I think. It’s not the big bourgeoisie for sure but they were not super poor either (I will talk about it just after but for going around buying books and a few fancy toys you need a bit of money XD)

His family lived at Hemwick then Yharnam. I have this idea that his family might have help Cainhurst and the nobles with their hunt parties for a while. (There’s were a lil accident here too at some point…)

Besides that they might have worked in the fields. that's where he got his affinity with scythes !

So, there’s his father, and his little sister principally + there’s his mom and grandma who taught him to sew, cook and everything but I feel those two weren’t around for long :(

Oh, and there’s his aunt (a badass) who taught him to use weapons too and I like the idea she could be THE Evelyn you know. (but forget it)

And of course, they had some dogs while in Hemwick I think :)

I wouldn’t say he was a “weird” kid, but he was a bit different than the children his age. He didn’t pass that much with others his age either. He passed more time with people younger or older. Or generally he passed lot of times alone.

But I like the idea he could have been friend with Dores as a child. Dores who was really super weird and scared others and Gehrman just didn’t mind XD Also his family was a bit worried for a time because he thought that mercy killed a wounded bird was the best idea… well instead his family forced him to take care of the bird until he either die or get better. The bird lived and was release afterwards.

It might be linked to an another huge moment in his childhood/pre-teens : a wolf had attack cattle and possibly humans as well. Many people have been called to try to catch the beast. Gehrman tried to find it as well. Oh well he found it. It was hurt and sick and trapped in a jaw trap. He knew people were going to really make surfer the wolf who was already dying so he mercy killed it. During this adventure our lil hunter might have gone trapped too and hurt his leg as well. But nothing too serious lol (he hurt his right foot/leg way too many times when he was younger...)

(i made this back in September too...)

His education was not the highest thing possible either but still, he learned to read (and really like it) and wrote etc. and he loved going to expositions in Yharnam organized by Byrgenwerth. One day he even found a meteorite in a field and went to Byrgenwerth so that the scholars could explain and share to him everything they know! (yes! he made the burial blade and hunter badge years later from it!) yes a lil stone collector, like me <3 Oh and I headcanon he could play Cello (violoncelle) but I don't know where/when he learned.

He loved making toys and sew clothes too. He made a few dresses for his sister and a few little clothes for her plushies when she was younger. Of course, they had little dolls has well he and liked to make them various outfits. He also had/made a few wooden figures and some with mechanisms. I feel it would have been his dream job to make toys or even become a tailor. I headcanons he continued to make little articulated toys and sew clothes (he made his own) in addition to the weapons x)

At some points it becomes a bit complicated, I imagined when he was a teenager it was just him his sister and his dad. His father wasn’t super present and super fun it was a bit complicated (to resume)

And then the plague strike. (Yeah, I thought that having a tuberculosis epidemy 15y or smt before everyone met at Byrgenwerth and killed at least 1 member of everyone family was a good idea…I still think it is).

His sister sadly passed away from it T_T this really hurt him intensely if not destroy him. He was quite close to her and that’s a part how he got huge issues with dealing with grief of persons really close to him.

I need a name for her eventually, but I might never cited her by name, I guess so I got times…

After that idk maybe his father died too? or later? idk

Anyway, he went to do many little jobs around Yharnam, not the best things really but well you need a shelter and to eat so he did many various things : manufacturing, butcher, gardening, constructions, take people/object from to place A to B.

That’s where he met Patches who was one of his roommates lmao. Patches probably stoles stuff to everyone. Gehrman was very clear that if he ever witnesses directly the thief, that one was really gonna have a bad time… thankfully it kinda stops XD

By the way teen Gehrman is legit the type of person to gives weapons to people/lil kids so they can defend themselves just in case XD I’m not telling to who he gives a knife for exemple but the only thing I would say was that Cainhurst was really surprised XD

But there were something beginning to bother him. To bother him a lot. His right leg/foot really begin to hurt. To hurt really bad, he began to limp and smt even need to use a cane. At some points he couldn’t take it anymore, he went to Byrgenwerth so he could be properly healed. Well he got some really bad news… the tuberculosis from years ago have stayed dormant in his body for years and was now attacking his bones (it’s what a call tuberculosis of the bone/skeletal tuberculosis yes I’ve made quite some researches on it ). There was nothing to do so he asks them to amputee him. During his convalescence and reeducation, he spends lots of time with Dores & Liam (gatekeeper) (and also a bit with Willem + he met Laurence for the first time) who were sick too and didn’t work at Byrgenwerth yet.

After he was heal he decides to leave to work in a foreign regions/country a few years (Ahah you thought he was gonna stayed at Byrgenwerth ? Not yet!). To the places he went he did many things (mining for ex) and meet many people. I believed the first hunters /prospectors were almost all from Yharnam but the first foreigners might be people he meet there. (it’s the case of the grandfather of my OC hunter and maybe the first hunter of hunters and well it could be fun if he meet Archibald or others don’t you think ? Oh and an idea I have is that he met someone linked with Yamamura who even worked on the Rakuyo much later ! Yeah he got some contacts XD)

So after this he returned to Yharnam and wanted to finally realized one of his dreams: takes a few class a Byrgenwerth. While he was working next to it, that wasn't easy too but with all his efforts Willem noticed him (+saw his huge potential) and after discussion proposed to him if he wanted to work at Byrgenwerth. Gehrman accepted and that’s how he become Groundskeeper. The rest is another story. One you might be familiar with 😉

(I've got nothing really new so here's some old drawings)

#bloodborne #bloodborne headcanons #gehrman the first hunter #yharnam's communion #sorry I might have forgot a few things it's late and there's too many things to talk about x) I could talk about it for hours #gehrman headcanons

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persistancc · 2 years ago

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☼☾ -- have you seen DIANA BISHOP ? we’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re +ORGANISED but also -STUBBORN. i heard that HER main objective this season is TO DODGE ANY ATTEMPT TO MARRY HER OFF

tw: emotional incest ? / sort of but not really. she needs therapy though

tl;dr: severe case of eldest daughter syndrome with a father only eighteen years her senior. there's something warped going on in the house of atreus. emma if she never knew mr knightley. far too clever to be born in the century she's in.

☼☾ full name : diana jane bishop

☼☾ nickname(s) : di

☼☾ title : the Hon. Diana Bishop

☼☾ age : twenty seven

☼☾ date of birth : september 2

☼☾ place of birth : bishop house, worcestershire

☼☾ gender : cis female, sorta (handwaves vaguely)

☼☾ pronouns : she/her

☼☾ sexuality : sooo repressed. bi probably?

☼☾ early life

☼☾ parents : lord ----, viscount bishop ; jane merriot (deceased)

☼☾ siblings : ---- bishop (approx 23) ; ---- bishop (approx 20)

☼☾ other family : various bishop cousins, but none close to her in age ; laurel bishop, stepmother

☼☾ education : strong for a woman of her time. excellent french, passable latin and greek. a great reader, a lover of gardens and horticulture. her governess was dismissed after the death of her mother, and she was tutored by various men hired by her father. somewhat inappropriate, but effective. her father wanted "a daughter he could actually speak to."

☼☾ personality

☼☾ skills : embroidery, diplomacy, household management, accountancy and sums. excellent horse-rider but dislikes hunting to hounds. a clever and quick conversationalist, if a little caustic and cynical. can keep a staff of several hundred firmly in line.

☼☾ hobbies : running her father's household, criticising her younger sisters, sitting in quiet, cold, angry silence instead of actually articulating her problems

☼☾ habits : extremely self-contained so has few physical habits except the occasional chewing of her nails when she is extremely distressed. she cannot start the day without tea with two sugars and her morning brisk walk.

☼☾ likes : dawn, misty weather, cats, the smell of leather and cigars, being included and recognised, horse-riding until she's exhausted, dressing as a man, gardening and the control she exerts over her flowers, her father's laughter, when people are impressed by her sisters

☼☾ dislikes : most animals, especially dogs. mess, disorganisation, and spontaneity. too much feathers and perfume. social scandal, being stared at, the wrong sort of attention. men who flirt. her father's disappointment.

☼☾ positive traits : exceptionally intelligent, logical, and structured. rarely forgets anything, her life is disciplined and organised. she can always be relied upon to follow through with a plan or save the day if a social occasion goes awry. can soothe sore spots in conversation with a well-placed remark, especially amongst men. wants only the best for her family to the point of exhausting her own physical and mental health. morally upstanding and determinedly correct.

☼☾ negative traits : everything is black and white for Diana and the slightest disruption to her life can send her into a tailspin. She is resentful and never lets go of a grudge. Highly controlling, she can't bear not getting her way. She always knows best and will not tolerate disagreement, often becoming cold, stubborn, and sometimes vicious in the face of opposition. When confronted with her father's disappointment or even slight anger, she crumbles and turns childish and distressed. Her relationship with her sisters is strained as she tries and fails to shape their lives according to her wishes. She cannot bend: instead, she breaks.

☼☾ appearance

☼☾ hair : deep auburn red, darker at the roots, with a natural thick curl. her best feature, glossy and well suited to the styles of the day. with her hair down (as it is rarely) she looks years younger.

☼☾ eyes : brown and deep set, long-lashed, determined and mature.

☼☾ notable features : looks older than her years. attractive objectively, with a porcelein complexion and fascinating features, she hides her good looks behind a masculine self-image and a matronly demeanor that sometimes fools people into thinking she is her sisters' mother.

☼☾ clothing & style : generally dark clothing, a lot of green. masculine in cut and style during the day, she prefers long heavy coats or cloaks and often lives in her riding gear when in the country. in town she is meticulous in adhering to etiquette, but she is uncomfortable in the fashionable pale gauzes of the ton. if dressed for a ball she could be stunning, but she prefers to hide behind her sisters.

☼☾ character inspiration : emma (jane austen) ; stannis baratheon ; hermione granger ; susan pevensie

#diana ; intro #mayfair.intro

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fairfaxwear · 7 months ago

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the truth and nothing but the truth

April 24th, 2024

a memoir: by him

I’ve always told others to take everything with a grain of salt. This story is not for the faint of heart. And as a man, this is my reflection, my amends that need to be made. The hope I have for something to come from this is exponential, that I can’t lie. Look at me saying “can’t lie” on a self reflective truth. I really know how to mess it up sometimes don’t I. If you read half of this, or decide to stay for it all. thank you, for making me feel like i have a voice.

It’s 4:49am. As I type and I sit in this boarding flight waiting area. Out of Time by the weeknd plays on my earbuds, on repeat for the sake of the lyrics, but that explanation comes later. It’s a trip to San Diego. at the bad time, maybe. But it would be a disservice to not use it to make amends. To right my wrongs. That matters to me ever so slightly more, than me being deserving of any type of vacation. Sometimes sorry is not enough, in fact, an apology would be a disservice to how much this needs to be fully handled. What am I referring to? Well *deep breath* this is long overdue. I vowed nothing but the truth. And the truth is where this story begins.

Act I: Age 19: A diverging path from initially planned / This is where we meet:

I worked at different jobs my whole life, i considered myself a hard worker in fact. At least to me I always found purpose in that. I didn’t mind not speaking to many people at all in fact. A small circle of friends was something I always valued, of which those people I’m grateful to say are still in my life. I struggled with my early years of college to establish discipline within my own head. Math was my enemy, no matter how well I articulated myself from a young age, no matter how “poetic” my ego made me think I was I never reached the potential of being recognized for that. Which my mind blames on not being mathematically intelligent. But I worked hard damn it. In fact I worked harder than a lot of people I knew, at least that’s what drove me to always work harder. As much as I fear the idea of losing senses or that sense of drive as I age, I still tried hard to make something of myself with the attributes I had, good and bad. I started working at my local mall after telling myself a college education could wait as the constant failing of mathematical, and even other subjects on occasion, made it constantly demotivating to make something of myself. Truthfully I had always wanted a “cool” job. For those initial months, almost year, I loved my job, my life. I worked in an environment that best fit my strengths in both sales and conversations among strangers. And for that I thank that job. I was always in introvert, in fact I still like to consider I am. Any extrovert tendencies were purposely used by me in order to move up in life, I hated being an extrovert, I hated the dog eat dog world of the real world, of my workplace. I still do to this day. At this point in my life I found no reason to complain, I was a joyful man/boy at the time, I was naive, for better and for worse. I met a girl there at my workplace, she was my coworker, we spent multiple closing shifts grabbing dinner, wings to be exact. I wasn’t interested in the slightest at the time, maybe a small crush, but nothing I’d act upon. At least at that initial time. I was told I was a nice man by this person. Truthfully at the time I didn’t know what to make of it, I brushed it off knowing I was nice, but the people around me almost made it seem like I was overly nice, overly sentimental. It was I consider my first serious job regardless of how unserious the environment was. Time passed and things between me and said person died out, nothing monumental but life chooses different paths, especially with a slight age gap. I was located inside of a mall but never much traveled outside that store. I believed and to this day believe in trying ones hardest to go do your job to the best of your ability, and to then go home. Boring I know, but effective. The dilemma here was not following said advice, my flaws began to show. I faced a lot of “heartbreak” at young ages, of which I like to think were mostly my doing now that I reflect. At the age of 17 I met a girl in high school that I deemed perfect, surface level thoughts of course for a boy at that age. I created these ideas in my head of what a woman should be. Again at 18 I faced the same with a woman who worked in the mall place before I had arrived, the store no longer exists in that mall, a good way to end that part of my life, I think she’s happily married now actually, which I commend. I apologize for side tracking. As I work there my personality goes through phases. I learn to speak to strangers through customer service in-store. I learn that a world exists outside of the food service industry I had worked in for a couple years. But these small strings of heartache change me, but yes only very slightly. I get this urge to have a fling, heck let’s call it fling. I vocalize this to my coworkers, who to my knowledge had long passed these lustful tendencies or were already neck deep in being that type of person. I was the good egg I’d say of the dozen, but it was time to expand. We all work in front of a children’s clothing store. I see two women adjusting window marketing, as most mall workers do yes. We meet.

Act II: Age 20: the choice / hero or villain

As I stand at the entrance of my work my coworkers can’t stress enough that it’s as easy as walking up to someone, as I said I was a very introverted person. Still ignorant to how things of that nature function. This coming from a 20 year old wasn’t the most natural feeling but it was the life I was deemed. And so I approach one, with the intention of this being my first “extroverted” experience with a woman. The past heartbreaks molded me into at least trying this method. I introduce myself, her friend continuing to clean store windows beside her. I didn’t think of her. My mind was dead set on proving to my peers that I could be ever so slightly heartless, so I proceeded. It was a fling I’d say, nothing less nothing more. But it was at the expense of a women’s feelings, it sat in the back of my mind, like a part of my brain I hadn’t explored yet. Was it some form of super power speaking this way, or was I fitting comfortably into the shoes of a villain. If you’ve reached this far into the story I suggest you remember the right person in the entire scenario, of which it was neither the girl nor me. but her friend.

Act III: Age 21: I didn’t know I could feel something like this

I didn’t know I’d ever feel this. This cold element. I was raised to always give, to always hand someone a plate even when I myself hadn’t ate. This idea of being selfish weighed heavy on me. I had to backtrack, take back the things I did wrong to this girl, but I couldn’t do it in time to not effect my own character, my own perception that I not only was the villain, but that I had been like this from the start. Everyone commended me, told me that was the way to communicate. Until I met her friend. Dawn. A girl who was far more invested in herself than she was others around her, which I respected, in fact I noticed it. At the time she was in a relationship, far secluded from the likes of people like me, or people I was around. But I noticed her, not because of beauty which was very odd to me. Well so goes the weeks, by association I meet her formerly. I notice her closing up shop one night and I ask dawn to dinner. We both work corporate albeit hers a higher role, I was a late bloomer, a man who hadn’t understood yet what it meant to go all in. She understandably wasn’t. I was scared, unaware of how I would handle a situation. So I became her friend, I let her vent to me the things she had on her mind. I was there. Present. And maybe, just maybe, my old methods were the better way after all. Not the ones my surrounding peers were so eager to have me use. I know it made it easier for me to get hurt, easier for something to affect me. So I said fuck it. I’m not the most attractive, I’m not the most successful, but I think this girl is worth every bit of negative that might come from it, because I want to put every bit of positive into it. I know doesn’t make sense right? But who’s to say it had to. People saw us and saw flaws, cracks, indents. And all we saw was how enclosed we became together in the same world. You know when a grenade goes off in a war movie, everything becomes silent, almost like art. Like time froze so you could enjoy that exact moment without distraction. To bask in the beauty of another person who shares even just a tiny bit of your insane day to day thoughts. It was something you couldn’t put a price on. To this day. And so I decided to run with it. People around me told me things, as did those who I called friends. I was weak then, naive, for better and worse. Delicate almost, unaware of the real world when it came to either relationships or my own feelings. I believed in love to its highest degree, something I’m still willing to stand by today but let’s just say it doesn’t roll off the tongue like it used to. and the only problem is I took myself too serious.

Act IV: Age 22: ikarus flew too close to the sun

I didn’t know what I’d gotten myself into at the time. I was new to all this, in fact I didn’t think a girlfriend could be serious. Truth be told I’d had them before, but never was I so sure that this would something deeper, in fact from the first day I knew. Something in my body told me. Call it superstition, call it stupidity, but I believed. Like any 20-26 year old, you’re flawed until you face those flaws head on.

Part 2:

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hong-kong-art-man · 7 months ago

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Does Her Family Background Affect Jocelyn Choi, A Good Actress? The 3 Pieces Of Advice That She Gives To Anyone Who Wants To Get Into The Acting Field?

We often cannot figure out the purpose of an unexplainable passion. In that way, passion is perhaps the purpose. When you love what you do and do it persistently, passion will become destiny. There will be no regret about a failure if it is for passion. Passion is not chasing a rush. Passion is also not necessarily about making it to the finish line.

The young actress in Hong Kong Jocelyn Choi (蔡頌思) told me, “I don’t know what I will ultimately look right. Right now, I enjoy acting and sacrifice for it without hesitation.” Jocelyn is the daughter of my senior alumna in Law School Janice Kwan and I run into her regularly since we both love art. Jocelyn’s father is the very well-known businessman in Hong Kong Mr Choi Koon Shum (蔡冠深).

Jocelyn has one elder brother and 3 younger brothers. Apart from her good family background, good education is one thing that no one can take away from her. She studied in the prestigious St Paul’s Co-educational College and completed a degree in English from the Chinese University of Hong Kong. She got an offer to further pursue drama education from the Hong Kong Academy for Performing Arts but Jocelyn suddenly got a job to act for the reputable Hong Kong Repertory Theatre. She gritted her teeth and bit the bullet: no more school! She thus entered the acting field.

Janice said helplessly to me, “I am sorry that our family background gave Jocelyn a hard time. People thought we pushed her to be a star. We financially invested in all her jobs. We were her domineering manager and she took up the artist position just for fun. These are absolutely misunderstanding. In fact, Jocelyn’s daddy was against the idea that she would become an actress! God creates boys and girls who have a thing called free will!”

Jocelyn talks confidently and accurately, with a pair of clever eyes looking for the right words to say. I can feel she is a sensitive artist who can be very perceptive. If not being an actress, she could be an able business executive.

She articulated, “The advantage of being in an affluent family is that I don’t have to take money back home. I am given free accommodation and food so that I can follow my dreams. I know it is a luxury but it is also the reason that I must work harder. I must stress I am who I am and should not let my family background affect my chances for success. My passion in acting started during university days. I studied English literature and had many opportunities to take part in drama productions. Drama unlocked myself—my abilities, my creativity and my courage. I became determined to be a performing artist. After leaving university, I search online the invitations for audition and such pursuit was almost non-stop. I luckily found acting jobs one after another though tides could be high and low for me. I build up my career gradually. Gosh! I am still struggling and will not give up!”

I switched to another topic and asked, “Do you have any advice for a young girl who wants to act?” Jocelyn expressed her view, “Being an amateur actor is good fun. The real world is different. Entertainment business is extremely competitive and there are too many complicated human factors beyond our control. Frustrations can make you doubt yourself and cause depression. Always be positive and have high emotional intelligence. Tune in to what is facing you. Forget ungrounded criticism against you as dissing also brings ungrounded fear. When you believe you have reasoned reasonably, abide by your belief and make progress by keeping on trying!”

She added a second point, “Luck is a shortform answer for ‘I have tried my best but cannot reach there’. As an actor, you must have talent, sacrifice a lot of time and are tortured by numerous uncertainties. Luck and destiny should not be the excuses for personal inaction. Luck is where opportunities meet your hard work and readiness. So, I incessantly asked people to give me opportunities of an audition so that I would prove to them that I might fit the role. I don’t feel anything like losing face. In life, there are bound to be someone more fortunate than me.”

Jocelyn was still eating slowly her tiny bowl of soup, probably for weight control because we all think a good-looking actress must be slim. I would never forget the last thing that she said to me, “An actress should not be shy! I am shy in my own way and trying to overcome it. In the entertainment world, you need to try to be what you are not, sometimes. Try to explode like a volcano when people are around you and you must make them cheerful. In our profession, people and reporters usually like socially aggressive and pleasurable girls. Acting opportunity is often about initial connections and cultivating them over time. Again, I am learning from other good ones who can closely check in with their contacts, whether through telephone messages or gatherings, to show that they value the relationship with these people who can help them. Since I don’t change my goals, I can only adjust my style of getting along with others!”

Making conversation with Jocelyn is enjoyable because she gives short and clear answers. Our fast-paced life has made junk foods a part of our lives. But, fast-paced conversations were wonderful because after I sat down to lunch, I suddenly found out that our happy time ended—albeit reluctantly. When young, do indulge in the exploits of youth, as this is a one-time luxury of everyone.

Maurice Lee

Chinese Version 中文版: https://www.patreon.com/posts/cai-guan-shen-nu-103075592?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link

Jocelyn Choi Official Music Video

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Acknowledgement-Jocelyn Choi

Jocelyn Choi Official Music Video

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Acknowledgement – Jocelyn Choi

VE Channel Guest - Jocelyn Choi

youtube

Acknowledgement-VE Channel

#Choi Koon Shum 蔡冠深 #Human Factors #Ungrounded Criticism #Audition #Emotional Intellig

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wyfio · 1 year ago

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Why create puzzles?: A stream of (un)consciousness

First posted on medium.com

A stream of (un)consciousness

The text that you read here now is not my first attempt at opening this exploration of ‘why create puzzles?’. I haven’t kept track of exactly how many attempts I have made to initiate this post, but I would estimate that the cycle of think, write, read, re-think, delete has occurred 20–30 times to get me to this point.

And this point — whatever it really is — seemingly arises out of some frustration/inability to meet the demands of my own sense of what the ‘right’ approach would be. But perhaps, in attempting to transcribe my thoughts as they arise, without binding them to the expectations of convention, somehow, something that does speak to the original question will begin to emerge…

Returning to a more conventional approach then, following many hours of introspection, my initial attempts to gain insight as to why people create puzzles started with Google. And to my surprise, presented little of any obvious value. For example, ‘why do people create puzzles’ returned 131 million results, but the top results were all variations on why we ‘do’ puzzles and what the benefits might be. Here, I run the risk of presuming that this is something significantly different. Moving away from the language of creation I then asked ‘Why make puzzles.’ This produced results that largely revolved around some practical, educational outcome which, again, was not the question I was trying to answer.

In keeping up with the zeitgeist, I also posed various questions of ‘the LLMs’ (Large Language Models) which, with the right ‘prompt engineering’ (*shudder*) offered up some points of interest:

· ‘Problem-Solving Instinct: Humans have evolved as problem solvers. Creating puzzles and solving them is an extension of this evolutionary trait. It’s a way for individuals to exercise their problem-solving abilities and satisfy their instinct to overcome obstacles.

· Achievement and Mastery: Creating and solving puzzles can provide a sense of achievement and mastery. When a person successfully completes a puzzle they’ve created or conquers a challenging puzzle, it can boost self-esteem and provide a sense of accomplishment.

· Communication and Connection: Puzzles can serve as a means of communication and connection between people. Sharing puzzles, discussing solutions, or collaborating on solving them can facilitate social interaction and bonding.

· Creativity Expression: Puzzle creation is a creative outlet. It allows individuals to express themselves, whether through the design of visual puzzles, wordplay, or the development of intricate logical challenges.

· Sense of Order and Structure: Puzzles often have clear rules and structures. Creating and solving them provides a sense of order and predictability in a world that can sometimes feel chaotic.’

The ‘Sense of Order and Structure’ resonated with me most here as to why I think I create puzzles. Particularly, as I reflect on the seemingly discursive text that I have opened with. In opening in such a way, I chose a text to fill the void of the icy white canvas before me, a preference for structure over nothingness.

In the search for answers, I had also turned to the one of the oldest and most reliable technologies of all, by picking up a copy of a 2002 book entitled ‘The Puzzle Instinct¹’ by Marcel Danesi, currently Professor of Semiotics and Linguistic Anthropology at the University of Toronto. ‘The Puzzle Instinct’ *spoiler alert* concluded by saying:

‘All that can be said is that puzzles are not just curious figments of mind, but elusive bits of evidence of a theory of the world that is lurking around somewhere, but that seems to evade articulation. I have tried as best as I could in this book to present a few of those bits of evidence. Hopefully, I have shed some light on how the puzzle instinct, in its own miniature way, has guided us, and continues to guide us, in our search for an answer, whether real or imagined, to the most vexing puzzle of all — the meaning of life.’

Now, what I haven’t included here, is text from the prior paragraph in which Danesi suggests the journey he takes the reader on ‘…through Puzzleland has led nowhere’ given that ‘In the realm of the imagination there are no linear paths or finite maps that lead to definitive answers.’ But I couldn’t help but wonder, what did Danesi mean by ‘nowhere’?

In the most pessimistic understanding I could muster, I wondered whether nowhere might be taken to mean a complete failure to address the question or make any contribution to its understanding in any way whatsoever. However, that seemed far too damning an appraisal for what is ultimately an excellent and intriguing book.

So, I moved to pondering a slightly less damning appraisal — something less literal and more ordinary/typical. Taking that perspective, I thought that perhaps Danesi was simply suggesting that he just didn’t feel that he’d made much progress. And the bar that he had originally set was one of ‘definitive answers’ which, he subsequently discovered, were beyond reach. At this point, I wondered, what exactly is a ‘definitive’ answer anyway? But I will leave that one for the epistemologists…

The third and final conjuration — which may have been an embellishment that stretched the intention of the author beyond breaking point — was that nowhere was the nowhere of the unconscious, somewhere beyond space-time — effectively rendering Danesi’s ‘puzzle instinct’ akin to some kind of Jungian archetype² at work. And whilst I couldn’t find reference to Jung, or similar thinkers in Danesi’s book, the translation of this type of instinct to archetype didn’t seem particularly far-fetched to me. And other observations that Danesi had made sat comfortably, in my view, with ‘typical’ Jungian observations — when theorising on the archetypes — such as the parallel emergence of myth and the occult, and the emergence/re-emergence of the ‘same puzzles’ across distant cultures both geographically and temporally.

Arriving at this point of my draft post, I had thought of concluding it in a similar vein to how I had opened it, in a sort of stream of consciousness that I had hoped, through some unknown mechanism, would simply lead me to where I was trying to go. But instead of doing that — I slept on it. And when I awoke the next day, I thought why not just ask Danesi what he meant? So, I did…

I found contact details for Danesi via his contributor page on Psychology Today and set out my thoughts in much the same fashion as I have done here. I hadn’t anticipated a response. But much to my surprise, I received an incredibly gracious response within less than an hour. In which, Danesi confirmed that the use of ‘nowhere’ was actually a paraphrasing of Lewis Carroll. Which I took to mean the exchange between the Cat and Alice in ‘Alice and Wonderland³’ — often paraphrased as ‘if you don’t know where you are going, any road will get you there’.

And whilst the idea of a Carrollian ‘nowhere’ hadn’t occurred to me at all (in spite of the proliferation of references to Carroll’s work throughout the book), Danesi, in turn, acknowledged and welcomed the opening up of the various other possible interpretations of the ‘nowhere’ that had gone unrealised to him hitherto. And so, whilst I opened this post taking ‘any road’ that is exactly where I ended up. Strange huh?

. . .

[1] Danesi, M. (2002) The puzzle instinct: The meaning of puzzles in human life. Bloomington (Indiana): Indiana University Press.

[2] Jung, C. G. (1959). Collected works. Vol. 9, Pt. I. The archetypes and the collective unconscious. Patheon.

[3] Carroll, L. (2009). Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (Original work published 1865). Oxford University Press.

#puzzles #riddles #consciousness #unconscious #psychology

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xtruss · 2 years ago

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Opinion | Slavery: My Family Owned 1,000 Slaves and Profited From the Trade: This is How I am Trying to Make Amends

I left the BBC to fight for restorative justice. The £100,000 we have so far donated to Grenada should be seen only as a first step

— Laura Trevelyan, Former BBC Journalist | Saturday 25 March, 2023

The bell of the Belmont Estate in Grenada, a former 17th-century slave plantation. Photograph: Georg Berg/Alamy

n 1833, when Britain finally abolished slavery, my ancestors were absentee owners of more than 1,000 enslaved people on the Caribbean island of Grenada. To the best of my knowledge, the Trevelyans never set foot on the island. They enjoyed the profits that came rolling in from sugar harvested by exploited and brutalised enslaved people thousands of miles away across the Atlantic Ocean.

Like much of Britain, my ancestors never had to confront the face of slavery – or its sordid legacy. Generations later, my extended family spent a year debating how we could respond to the horrors of the past. The deafening silence from the descendants of slave owners, from other families like ours, causes unimaginable pain, Sir Hilary Beckles of the Caribbean Community’s Reparations Commission told us. He convinced us of the power of an apology and encouraged us to lead by example.

So we wrote a letter of apology to the people of Grenada and decided to donate more than £100,000 to education projects on the island. After emancipation, most former enslaved people were illiterate. Helping Grenadian students build a brighter future through education seemed like the obvious way to try to repair the damage of the past.

In February, I travelled with six members of the Trevelyan family to Grenada to apologise in person. As we sat in the trade centre of Grenada’s picturesque capital, St George’s, preparing to deliver our apology, I grew anxious. Would we receive a hostile reception? What if this backfired horribly, and put back the very cause we were trying to advance? I could hear the drumming coming from a protest outside by a Rastafarian tribe, whose members felt the amount of money we were donating was wholly inadequate.

You could feel the raw emotion in the room. The Grenadian poet Nigel De Gale spoke before me of wanting to live like the slave master did, to see white people slave for him. I tried to keep my poker face intact, confronted with this powerful articulation of the anger so many must feel. It was against this backdrop that my cousin John Dower and I read out our apology to the people of Grenada. We hoped we could at least acknowledge the suffering our ancestors had inflicted on Grenadians, and perhaps encourage other families in similar positions to do the same. The country’s young prime minister, Dickon Mitchell, graciously thanked us, and said he forgave us. It was an incredible relief.

Enslaved people unloading a ship’s cargo of ice from Maine at Grenada. Photograph: Granger/Historical Picture Archive/Alamy

Afterwards, I found the reaction in Grenada to be mixed. Some people were understandably upset to be confronted with the face of slave ownership, and wanted to know why we were giving such a small amount of money compared with the wealth our ancestors had accumulated. Once slavery was abolished, compensation was paid by the British government to the slave owners to make up for their loss of “property”. In 1834, the Trevelyans received the equivalent of about £3m in today’s money. “I know it seems inadequate,” I said, “but it’s a first step.” At the same time, I was heartened to hear of the healing power of our apology. “A burden that I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted,” one woman told me. “Thank you for coming forward.”

Of course, it’s not just my family that has benefited from this system of wealth extraction. Britain’s Industrial Revolution was fuelled by money from the slave trade, making us a rich nation. After abolition, the Caribbean islands were left with an impoverished, mostly illiterate workforce – while Britain leapt forward into a golden age of prosperity.

When the UK needed a workforce after the second world war, the Windrush ship was sent to the economically distressed Caribbean colonies. Descendants of the enslaved came in their thousands to help build postwar Britain. Beckles has called this sordid legacy Britain’s black debt. Now is the time to repay that debt.

This reckoning did not start with my family. Powerful questions in the wake of George Floyd’s murder and the Black Lives Matter movement are forcing governments, institutions and families to examine their history. As the past recedes, it also comes into focus more clearly. The Dutch government has apologised for the Netherlands’ role in the slave trade, and established a fund to help tackle the legacy of slavery. The Church Commissioners have apologised for their links to the slave trade and established a £100m fund to try to address past wrongs.

Now, Trinity College, Cambridge – of which my great-grandfather the historian George Macaulay Trevelyan was master – is examining if it benefited from slavery. GM Trevelyan glossed over the slave trade in his bestselling histories of England. But today a new momentum is building; one that accepts that the wealth of European countries was built from transatlantic slavery, and tries to make amends.

The Labour MP Clive Lewis, who is of Grenadian descent, recently asked parliament why the British government can’t apologise for slavery and pay reparations, as our family has done. Since my trip to Grenada, I have been inundated with messages from families in similar positions to ours who want to know how to make things right. Last week I left the BBC, after a 30-year career, which was a joy and a privilege, to campaign for reparative justice full-time and encourage Britain to face up to its colonial debt.The coronation of King Charles in May is an opportunity to talk about the royal family’s links to slavery. Commonwealth leaders from the formerly enslaved nations will be there in Westminster Abbey. As the king himself has said about the enduring impact of slavery: “This is a conversation whose time has come.”

— Laura Trevelyan is a former BBC journalist who campaigns for reparatory justice

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missbaphomet · 2 years ago

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I actually haven't ever had a trigonometry class. School in the US isn't the best and school in the southeast is often significantly worse. The school I went to was even on the failing list for math during my education. I was so far behind in math that when I tried to attend a local fine arts school for math and science I had to withdraw after just three weeks (and a summer course) because I was just too far behind, which was extremely upsetting to me for several reasons. I was one of only maybe a dozen kids chosen for that year's class out of a few hundred applicants, but I simply didn't have the knowledge I needed in math. I went into honors algebra 1 not knowing the order of operations. That's how bad my school's math education was.

The summer course was three weeks long and we covered a whole textbook in that time. I was out the entire middle week with the worst case of pneumonia I've ever had in my life. I tried to study through it but the meds I was on literally made the numbers jump around the page. I would easily spend 5-7 hours every single night on my daily math homework only to come in the next morning and have every bit of it wrong. My teacher also had a stupid thick accent and I genuinely couldn't understand her, and there was also a rumor that she had a particular disdain for white students because she immigrated from Uganda iirc. She definitely did treat me and the only two other white kids in my class differently than everyone else is all I'll say, but she is no longer staffed there. (Up yours, Mrs. Lugemwa!)

I was a constant ball of stress and anxiety during that time, so much so that I was eating basically nothing but fucking garbage and still dropped 20lbs in three weeks. I do genuinely think it's possible I gained some form of CPTSD from it all or something, and to this day I still freeze up if taking an algebra test. I can do algebra, but something about doing it in a school environment sets me off and I can't think straight and my heart races and all kinds of other anxiety shit. The only classes I have ever failed out of my own lack of knowledge or ability were math classes.

The others were a couple English classes where the teacher hated me and refused to grade my work for some reason, and an anatomy class where the teacher expected us to draw anatomically correct and articulated body systems [muscle, skeletal, nervous, etc] when even my stick figures are deformed and because I missed a huge test that was a pretty significant chunk of my grade because I was having surgery and the professor wouldn't let me make it up. I also had a technical fail for attendance in some fucking mandatory attendance class but my grade was good so I don't count it, especially since I technically shouldn't have been failed because I had a doctor's excuse for that absence but the teacher didn't accept it because apparently I "could have done it later". Like sorry you think some bullshit class where we did fuck all is more important than my health??? And when I say we did fuck all I mean it. We had one graded assignment the whole semester: read a book and take a test on it. I didn't read the book but I made like a 95 on the test so kiss my ass. The rest of what we did were like. Non-graded worksheets about time management and other such skills.

(This is why I wanted to take a gap year, then COVID happened. Now I have to scrape together the funds myself if I want to go back to school in the future)

Sooo many people pronounce my username wrong it blows my mind. I was like 12-13 when I first heard this term, it’s just always been there, so much so I had to ask friends when I would’ve learned it. I just can’t wrap my head around it lmfao

#baph bleats #sorry about the rant #i genuinely didnt mean to but the words just kept coming #i have a lot of feelings about math and very few are positive #I took an IQ test as part of my student disability shit and my lowest score was math which was like a 98 #which for reference a 98 is pretty average #meanwhile I got a near-genuis level english score #i believe the composite was around 119-ish but this was also 4 years ago #ive learned a lot since then

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futurebird · 2 years ago

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Errors and Bias in State-Sponsored Summer Teacher Training

This summer in Florida the governor, Ron DeSantis, enacted the next part in his plan to mutilate the public education system. There were many issues with this teacher training. Notably a focus on "originalism" as the only correct way to read the constitution and a rejection of strict separation of church and state. This framing of history is tailored to support right-wing politics and Christian Nationalism. The presentations included slides for teaching “Qualities of an Upright and Desirable Citizen” and a section titled “Misconception: The Founders desired strict separation of church and state and the Founders only wanted to protect Freedom of worship.” (Focus on "what the founders want" and "what the founders could imagine" is baked in to this framing. Even then this is hardly an area of consensus among historians.) I'd like to focus on how slavery was presented. Very little was said to teachers about slavery at the training. So, what was said is even more important. The little information presented was selective, using intentional errors to push an ideological narrative. Consider this slide from the teacher training Slave owners Washington and Jefferson are selected as the best people from their time to articulate "Opposition to Slavery" (couldn't think think of anyone better to quote on this topic? anyone more relevant? Maybe someone who didn't have a vested interest in slavery?):

The quote attributed to Washington is mangled! Washington never even said this quote as presented. He said something similar, true, but the tone of the real quote is very different.

" ... abolished by law." should be " ... abolished by slow, sure, & imperceptable degrees." (source) This is, presumably, the very best quote they could find from Washington. Another slide on slavery from the teacher training:

No major factual errors in this one, but factual errors aren't the only way to introduce bias. Considering how little was said about slavery what impression would these facts leave? Why is it important to mention that the number of slaves "increased in America through birth?" Is the implication that being born into slavery is a different kind of moral evil than being trafficked directly from Africa? Teachers in FL (and all states) should absolutely teach about these slides. In media literacy context of course! It's possible to push an agenda in many ways. By selecting what to present and what to ignore, through inaccuracies, by framing statistics in a misleading manner and placing facts together to lead the reader to an unspoken conclusion. This is terrifying. It joins the attacks on LGBTQ communities and especially the eliminationist rhetoric and legislation targeting trans people. Florida is going in a very dangerous direction. Ultimately, the plan is to drag the whole country along with them. I firmly believe we can stop this from happening, but I do not think it will be easy. Sources:

New Florida teacher training downplays role of slavery in U.S. history

Florida curriculum trainings show teachers how to make students ‘desirable citizens’

New Florida curriculum training goes from Civil War to Civil Rights, skips over Reconstruction

‘Mind-blowing what they tried to convince us of’: Florida teachers on new, ‘very skewed’ curriculum

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 years ago

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https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2021/06/17/single-moms-great-families-dads-better/7705997002/

By: Ian Rowe and Brad Wilcox

Published: Jun 17, 2021

The culture wars over family structure that raged in the 20th century — wars over single parenthood, marriage, and the importance of fathers — seemed to have ended in the early 21st century. From academia to the policy world, most sensible people acknowledged the importance of strong and stable families for kids. Hailing from the Ivory Tower in 2015, scholars from Brookings and Princeton reported on the new scientific consensus: “most scholars now agree that children raised by two biological parents in a stable marriage do better than children in other family forms across a wide range of outcomes.”

In the public square, the consensus view about the importance of fathers was best articulated by Barack Obama, in speeches at churches and colleges across the country. He underlined the value of fathers for kids and his own dedication to breaking the cycle of fatherlessness he experienced as a boy. “And so my whole life, I’ve tried to be for Michelle and my girls what my father was not for my mother and me,” he told the graduates of Morehouse College in 2013. “I want to break that cycle where a father is not at home — where a father is not helping to raise that son or daughter. I want to be a better father, a better husband, a better man.” No one could doubt that President Obama understood how much fathers mattered for their kids.

The 'Myth' of the Two-Parent Home

But now, progressives are calling into question even the kids-benefit-from-fathers argument Obama made so powerfully and poignantly. This month, for instance, The Harvard Gazette ran an article entitled, “Why living in a two-parent home isn’t a cure-all for Black students.” Written by Harvard sociologist Christina Cross, it spotlights her research showing that poor Black kids with two parents do not do better on a few educational outcomes compared to their peers with single parents.

Cross’ article echoed themes from an earlier article, “The Myth of the Two-Parent Home,” that she published in The New York Times that claimed “living apart from a biological parent does not carry the same cost for black youths as for their white peers.”

This Harvard research is part and parcel of a larger effort to call into question the idea that married, two-parent families matter not just for Black children but, indeed, all children. In an Atlantic article celebrating family diversity, the sociologist Pamela Braboy Jackson said, “All of our research points to the fact that it’s the quality of the relationship that matters, and the handling of communication and conflict, and the number of people in the household is not really the key” for the welfare of our kids.

There’s only one problem with this revisionist effort that relies on cherry picking a few findings to fit its narrative: it obscures the full truth from the sciences about the importance of two-parent families for kids.

A new report from the Institute for Family Studies co-authored by us with sociologist Wendy Wang finds large differences between Black kids raised by their own two parents, compared to their peers raised by single parents (primarily single mothers). Black children raised by single parents are three times more likely to be poor, compared to Black children raised by their own married parents. Black boys are almost half as likely to end up incarcerated (14% for intact; 23% for single parent) and twice as likely to go on and graduate from college (21% for intact; 12% for single parent) if they are raised in a home with their two parents, compared to boys raised by just one parent. Parallel patterns obtain for girls. Equally striking, we also find that Black children from stable two-parent homes do better than white children from single-parent homes when it comes to their risk of poverty or prison, and their odds of graduating from college. Young white men from single-parent families, for instance, are more likely to end up in prison than young Black men from intact, two-parent homes.

Ironically, the work of another scholar just across the Harvard campus from Cross, Raj Chetty, also refutes the idea that Black fathers don’t matter. Chetty and his colleagues set out to determine the most powerful neighborhood factors behind the gap in economic mobility for poor Black and white boys. The biggest factor? The “fraction of low-income Black fathers present” in a neighborhood. In other words, poor black boys in neighborhoods with lots of Black fathers were significantly more likely to realize the American Dream.

The value of stable families; fathers

Research like this has kept some influential thinkers and journalists on the left defending the scientific consensus about marriage, fatherhood, and family. “I think that my half of the political spectrum — the left half — too often dismisses the importance of family structure,” noted New York Times columnist David Leonhardt, responding to another of Chetty’s studies. “Partly out of a worthy desire to celebrate the heroism of single parents, progressives too often downplay family structure. Social science is usually messy, with correlation and causation difficult to separate. But the evidence, when viewed objectively, points strongly to the value of two-parent households.”

So the next time you come across a study from Harvard or some other ivory tower academic trying to cast shade on the idea that fathers matter for kids, you’d be better off just reprising the wisdom articulated by our 44th president on this matter for Father’s Day in 2008, which is as relevant for Father’s Day in 2021:

“Of all the rocks upon which we build our lives, we are reminded today that family is the most important… We know the statistics — that children who grow up without a father are five times more likely to live in poverty and commit crime… They are more likely to have behavioral problems, or run away from home, or become teenage parents themselves. And the foundations of our community are weaker because of it.”

The absence of a father has long been known to affect increased likelihood for homeless/runaways, school dropouts, teen pregnancy, obesity, incarceration and teen suicide.

Behold the problem with throwing your hands in the air and calling everything “systemic.”

#Free Black Thought #Ian Rowe #Father's Day #Happy Father's Day #fatherless #fatherlessness #absent fathers #black fathers #better late than never #economic mobility #religion is a mental illness

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adjryonicusd · 2 years ago

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Next Morning (F, PG-13, subtle caretaking)

Dan kept smiling, but he also kept wondering what he was doing here. It was crowded, the music was loud, and there was cigar smoke in the air. It was easy to think of many places he'd rather be. For example, he'd rather be on the sidewalk right outside the door, in the night air, chatting with the bouncers in peace. But Sarah seemed interested in him, he was very interested in her, and she hadn't outgrown college even though she'd graduated from an ivy 5 years ago. Dan's friends were probably having a quiet night in. He and Sarah were with her friends. Dan had a hard time understanding them. The core of the group seemed to be people she went to college with. Trust fund kids turned venture capitalists and executives before turning 30. The rest seemed to be people they'd met professionally here in the city. And they drank. Like frat boys. Or salarymen. Every night of the week.

Dan tried his very best to be sociable, but Sarah's friends were baffling to him. They were educated, and had great jobs that might have been interesting, maybe. But they only ever talked about the same inanity kids talk about in high school. Repeating funny memes, mainly. Dan struggled to land a conversational foothold, but in the end he didn't care very much. He made the effort for Sarah. He was here for her. Waiting for the night to be over so maybe they could have a few minutes alone.

As he stood there confined in the crowd, trying to look like he was enjoying it, she made her way over to him for the first time in half an hour. She was beaming at him, and seemed moderately drunk. "Hey!" she yelled over the noise. "Hey," he leaned in so he wouldn't have to shout. "Why don't you ask me to get out of here? I don't get it. Do you even like me?" she asked, sounding genuinely exasperated. In spite of the tone and phrasing, this was the best thing Dan had heard in some time. He glared back at her, frowned a little bit, and examined her face for several long seconds. She kept smiling and swaying to the music.

Dan reached out and she took his hand, her eyes glinting. He moved in the direction of the door, parting the crowd for their escape. Sarah's best friend Philip called out, "Bye Sarah!" She turned her head and looked at Phil. "I think he wants to hit that!" Phil added helpfully. Sarah flipped him off with her free hand held high, and made a face to match. Dan shoved the door and they tumbled into the chilly late night. They paused at the curb in front of the club, to adjust to the quiet and look at each other for a minute. Sarah was still smiling. She was almost never not smiling, at least that Dan had seen. She was sloshing side to side just a little.

"I'm sorry about my friends. I know you don't like them," she offered bluntly, not fully articulating all the words. She sniffed twice. Dan frowned slightly, "It's not that I don't like them. I don't know how to talk to them. They seem interesting, but they never say anything." They began walking east under the dim lights on the empty sidewalk. Her apartment was seven blocks away. Dan was glad for the time. Sarah replied, "I know. But they do talk about stuff one on one. They're really smart; this is just how they spend their down time. They don't talk about work and shit when we're all hanging out." Sarah was the most down to earth of her peers, and swore a bit, but she swore more when she'd had a few.

"Ok," Dan replied, without judgment, he hoped. Sarah gave another deep sniffle and wriggled her nose around like a bunny. He continued, "Why do you keep saying 'they' instead of 'we'?" She made a face and hummed, "Mmm, I mean they're my friends, and I love them. We went through a lot together in college, and we kind of followed each other around after. That's why most of us are here." She sniffled again and rubbed at her nose rapidly with her fingers. "But I know they're ridiculous," she confessed. "They spend like a thousand dollars a night on alcohol, and they take turns picking up the whole tab. It's this flashy game to them. They're trying to play the part." Big sniffle, exhale into the cold air. "But it's ridiculous. I can tell you don't like that shit."

Dan was touched she paid enough attention to him to tell anything at all. He tried to be gracious and reassuring, "I don't mind what your friends do with their time." She was sniffling wetly and rubbing rapidly at her nose again. Dan noticed the mannerism. "Are you ok?" he asked, looking over at her. "Huh?" she asked, unable to guess what he meant. "You keep sniffling and rubbing your nose like it's a clitoris," he deadpanned. Sarah busted out laughing at the top of her voice in the deserted street. She never missed a chance to laugh, but that one had caught her off guard. "What the fuck!" she leaned way over and gave him a light, tipsy shove on the arm. "Do you notice everything?" she asked. "It's hard to miss," he replied with an extra satisfied smile.

"I'm fine, I'm just fucking allergic to everything," she moaned, reaching into her purse. She produced a tissue and brought it to her nose. She didn't blow. Instead she held the tissue in the same way and rubbed it around vigorously. It appeared rubbing her nose was her thing. Still pinching it closed with the tissue, she looked sidelong at Dan and pouted, "See? Nod like a clid. Mmkay?" She giggled like a tipsy person walking home with someone, and gave two more deep sniffles.

Now that she'd brought it to his attention, Dan thought maybe he had seen her sniffling and using tissues more than most people. He hadn't thought anything of it. "I never realized you had bad allergies. Is it a problem for you?" he asked, both curious and concerned. She shot back, "Yes! It fuckin' sucks!" She dabbed at her nose holding the tissue in one hand. "It's awful. I take Benadryl all the time and it helps a little. But I'm pretty much always like this. All the time. If I go in a house with a cat, I'll literally be sick for days." She did the double sniff again. Her "literally" came out "lirarary".

"I had no idea. I guess I just thought you came down with colds a lot," Dan replied with a touch of concern. She chuckled. "Oh I get those too. I'm a mess," she sighed. Dan thought and mused, "I don't think I've seen you sneeze, though." She laughed, "Oh don't worry. You will. I only sneeze in the morning." Somehow Dan didn't feel prepared to get into what that was supposed to mean, on any level. Besides, they were in front of her building now. He had his back to a wall, and she was standing in front of him, having a great time by all appearances.

She stepped forward and took both his hands. She pulled them up and pressed both of their hands against his chest. He was pretty sure she liked him now. She sniffed and then let out a quiet hum. Was she waiting for him, or was he waiting for her? She compromised by standing on her toes. A signal even Dan couldn't miss. They both went in for the kiss at the same time. This wasn't their first kiss, but to Dan it felt like the first one that might actually go somewhere.

After making out for a couple of minutes, she drew back slightly and said, "You can come up, if you promise things won't get too out of hand tonight." It wasn't even a question. Dan just barely cracked a smile, and nodded up and down. "Ok, good", she snapped back, sounding happy. She led him by the hand to the entrance, then let them into the lobby. They continued making out on the elevator, partly because it might have been awkward otherwise. A minute later, Sarah led Dan into her one-bedroom for the first time of many to follow. They took turns using the bathroom.

In her bedroom, Sarah stood in front of him, waiting. Sniffling at regular intervals. They began to remove each other's clothing as gracefully as could be expected. Sarah confirmed that Dan was moderately fit, and competent to pitch a tent. Dan confirmed that Sarah was approximately a pear, with a small upper body, and unusually full, deceptively labeled A cups. Each was so pleased, that they couldn't but hope the other wasn't disappointed. Their hands eagerly assisted their eyes in comprehending one another, and Sarah shortly retreated to the bed before Dan got too far ahead of the class. Taking in the picture of her bed, adorned by her, adorned by a rather deliberate black silk chemise, Dan guessed out loud, "This isn't what you normally wear out."

"No Daniel it is not," she emphasized. And only wanting to scold him a tiny bit, added, "I wore one last time too."

They rolled around in their underthings, making out with care - like two people petitioning to suspend time for a night. Once, when Sarah's steadily dripping nose had made both their upper lips wet, she stretched for the nightstand and swiped a tissue in one motion. "Sorry," she giggled, and quickly wiped his nose and then hers. For a moment Dan wondered what sort of practice or premeditation made her do this in the courteous order. After they'd had their hands on each other's bulges for a while, Dan moved to slip under the band of her panties. She removed her own hand and broke off the kiss without opening her eyes. Gently holding his wandering wrist in place, she parted her lips and inhaled sharply. At first he worried he'd unwittingly gotten "too out of hand" already and alarmed her, but when she continued taking sharp breaths and flaring her nostrils he understood she was being overtaken by a sneeze.

After a few more hitches and one more big breath that caused Dan to flinch just a little, Sarah simply breathed all the way out with relief. Now eyes open and face to face, she made an amazed sighing sound and said, "Wow that was close." She sniffed wetly and swallowed, adding "Sorry about that." Dan smiled and shook his head a little. "Cuddle me," she strongly suggested.

Dan awoke to natural light, and the sound of Sarah sneezing behind his back on the other side of the bed - "Hhknx-che, ooooah." Dan thought she'd tried her best to be quiet, but it sounded like she was holding back a lot of force, and the feminine sigh at the end was probably an involuntary response to the effort. He closed his eyes again.

A drawn breath and then again, "Hhknx-chi, ooooah," shaking the bed just enough to be felt. This time Dan rolled and turned his head in her direction. She was sat up, hunched over slightly with her knees drawn. Her hands were in the prayer position, covering her nose, mouth, and chin. Without moving her hands she inhaled deeply, held it, then tensed her whole body as her head snapped forward - "Knnnx-che, haaah." She was engaged in her private struggle and didn't notice Dan.

Another big breath. She tried to hold it back from the start because if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to stifle it at all. "Knnxx-chi, haaaa." Her hands were still locked in position. Dan supposed that was part of keeping the sneezes quiet, although they weren't really that quiet. He looked past her to the window and noticed the air was swirling with dust, visible in the sunlight. "Hnnkxx-cha, mmmmm," pressing her face into her hands as she tensed up again. This time Dan lazily rolled over the rest of the way onto his other side. Noticing him, she placed her hands on her knees and faced him. She smiled weakly and sniffled. The underside of her nose was a bit pink and wet. She looked pretty, and a little tired.

"Heeeey," she sang-sung to him, "Did I wake you up?" Dan shrugged and deflected, "Nah, it's alright. I was half awake." She knew better, "I'm sorry. This is me," she smiled. "Yeah, that's why I'm here," he replied. She was already holding an index finger up and winding up for another one. She stifled again, but this time she didn't cover her face. Instead she planted both hands on her knees, scrunched her eyes closed, and tucked her head into her chest - "Hhhhhakkxx-cha, aaah." She didn't look at Dan. She tilted her head back a little and looked through the opposite wall with her tired eyes.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. She shook her head back and forth without saying anything. She took a big breath in, then out. And then again. She seemed very occupied with this. Dan could only spectate while she drew in a long breath, closed her eyes, tilted her head back and finally spasmed forward again - "Haaaakknnx-chaaaaaah." Still holding in most of the power, but it sounded like it was getting harder to do. Dan half-joked, "I'm awake now, you don't have to do that."

Sarah, being in her own position, knew what he meant by "that" and she took it as an offer and not a joke. "Are you sure?" she hesitated. "Yeah, it's ok to sneeze. I sneeze sometimes," Dan assured her. She sniffled and wriggled her pink nose, then smiled and looked his face over with appreciation. "It's kind of embarrassing," she mulled as the next powerful sneeze began to overtake her.

She breathed deep breaths in and out. In and out, like the tide before a tsunami. Dan felt a tiny bit awkward watching her have a private argument with her own body, but he figured it had to end sometime and he didn't want to go yet. She was too overcome to be fully aware of him anyway. She leaned way back, filled her lungs, held it, and then let go - "HHHAAAAAHHHCHOOOO!!!" - the sneeze threw her forward and she buried her face in the blanket covering her thighs. She knew she had to let them fly for this fit to ever end, but she wasn't about to spray the room full of her fluid. "Shit," she muttered like an aftershock.

"Jesus," Dan observed. Sarah turned and smiled, showing her teeth. "Shut up!" she giggled. Dan tried not to laugh. He watched the look come over her face. Closing her eyes, drawing in sharp, erratic breaths, nostrils flaring involuntarily. This one came faster and she didn't have time to turn all the way away. Now that she was letting them out, they wouldn't stay back anymore. Big inhale and then, "AAAHHHYYEAAAHHCHOOO!!!!" She sprayed a huge cloud a little towards Dan's side of the bed. A clear, thin rivulet of snot ran from her nostril to her lip. There was no time to reach for a tissue yet. She drew in all her breath and immediately let loose - "HHHHAAAYYEEECHOOOO!!!! Ahh!!" - hurtling forward and smooshing her breasts into her knees. Another thick cloud sprayed towards the foot of the bed in spite of her original intentions.

By this time Dan was genuinely amazed. He'd never seen anyone have a sneezing fit this intense before. Being this close he could feel every one of these helpless, powerful sneezes pierce and startle him even though he could see them coming. He had an inexplicable urge to wrap his arms around her and hold her until she finished, but he didn't want to embarrass her any further. Instead he slid over a foot and rubbed the silky fabric over her lower back. She looked at him and smiled again. "I'm sorry," she pleaded. He just closed his eyes and shook his head back and forth. Knowing her own sneezing was getting the best of her attentions, she placed her hand on the bicep of this man she'd invited into her bed, and squeezed. The contact completed a circuit and Dan felt his morning erection give an extra throb. Sarah was having feelings over on her side of the bed as well.

"How long does this usually last?" asked Dan. Sarah squeezed his arm harder and began hitching suddenly. She shook her head, "I don't..." Another sharp breath, and then another, head back, eyes closing. "I don't know," she finished, nostrils flaring. Feeling the urge to hold her more strongly, Dan slid the rest of the way to her side, so she turned away from him - "HEYAAAACHOOO!!! - more rapid breathing - "Heee.. hee.." - it sounded so urgent. Still facing away, she recalled her hand, feeling like she needed to cover this one. "Heee.. " - it was so big - "HHHHHHEEEEAAAAAAASSHHOOOOOOOO!!!" - into her open hands - "HHAAYYEEACHOOO!! Uh! Shit!" She took deep breaths and quickly remembered to return her hand to Dan's thick arm. Dan could feel her hand was not completely dry. He didn't mind. She wasn't sick.

He couldn't take it anymore though. He sat up alongside her and threw his big arms around her as best he could. She smiled at him as her body automatically relaxed and leaned into him. She pressed her lips onto his for a moment, then pulled back to look at his face again. "Hey," she greeted him. "God bless you!" he said with a big squeeze, and meaning it. "Thanks," she replied, still smiling, as though to a good friend, "I don't think I'm done though."

#snz fic #snz #snzblr #whump #allergies #snzfic #sneezefic #sneezing #snz kink #caretaker #pg13

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spoonyruncible · 2 years ago

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This is, like, 98% vent so take the usual precautions and etiquette on that.

Like, so, I’ve had a hard week. I’ve had a very very hard week even for me. I lost my whole entire voice, I had an evening so awful it was comical, my best friend had his very nice expensive desktop computer get shorted out and his dog badly mauled by an off leash beast, and my sibling straight up had to endure dramatically unexpected gun violence.

So it was.... it was very not good. I literally think it’s been more than five years since I actually became nonverbal, much less for more than a full day. But I am, keep in mind, a mentor for a group of underprivileged trans youth. Yes, I live in poverty, so do they. I make a pretty good mentor. I know the kinds of shit that the cis lady leading the group straight up never would have considered.

Case in point, we’re not quite a full year strong but I’ve watched my kids grow up, I really really have. It’s magical. I would take a bullet for any one of the kids. One of them is straight up by baby brother now and the second I see him post COVID I’m pretty sure I will cry and cry and cry and maybe we can hug. But this week the focus was Pride. And, y’all, apparently the basic understanding of Pride is kinda rough.

Like, okay, yeah, Stonewall. And God and Jesus and All The Little Baby Angels bless and sing to Marsha P. Johnson. But that’s not the end, that’s the start. It’s so wild to me that Stonewall is like, “And that’s the story of queer pride. The end.”

Babes and Elders, Friends and Enemies, Autists and The Less Fortunate, Gentlefolk and Ungentlefolk, I am not that fucking old at all. But I remember the brutal murders of Brandon Teena and Matthew Shepard being subject to humiliating jokes. It’s what I grew up with. My first understanding of ‘gay’ was that it killed you, painfully and horribly but for some reason that was okay and no one minded too much. It was even meant to be funny most of the time. I grew up at the tail end of a mass death, when RENT premiered (stage show, not movie) I was 7 and AZT was the best you could possibly hope for.

Now we have PrEP and AIDS isn’t a death sentence, we even talk about it now like a mildly more scandalous STD than the usual ones instead of.... well, like it was talked about in RENT. Death. Just death. And gay used to mean AIDS so gay was uncompromising slow death. Gay was prostitution and drugs and death.

Like, it’s very hard to articulate how different it was just twenty years ago. I even smiled at my daddy once and said, “I don’t have to tell you how I voted, but I will tell you that people who vote how you do drag people like me behind trucks.” That was the only time I can remember shutting him up in an argument, he couldn’t pivot, he tried a little with “I never” and I was immediately, “No, say I’m wrong and we’ll have a conversation.” so he just.... walked away. It was the most honest he ever was in acknowledging that, yeah, I was extremely brave. I was willing to die and he wasn’t willing to protect me. It was the bravest I’ve ever felt in my life.

And I am still, as I said, very young. I come from a third world region of an allegedly first world country. (I can get into the racist implications of that but this is a vent post so I’m not going to dissect everything.) So my experience? Still magical and impossible. Having to shove away earnest lesbians even though RadFems assured me I was just a closeted lesbian and only men had this and it was called autogynophillia and was a fetish. I only craved male power and was nervous about being with girls. I was not, they were wrong, but the idea of maybe if I date girls I’ll be normal and safe in 2003 is way way way past anything a bitsy baby transman would guess at in 1983. The way progress marches is not.... not easy to follow.

I didn’t expect to be a queer educator. I didn’t plan to be an ‘’’expert’’’ but now I am because I hear things like, “Maybe putting out all those pride flags is baiting a bear with the man who keeps threatening to kill you” and my whole self leaps out with, “That was wrong what this woman I trust said. You have to make a choice, sure, and I will not tell you which is wrong and which is right but Pride has never been about being quiet and meek and trying not to be bothered. I’m not going to tell you to keep fighting or to do anything you don’t want to, but I will say that Pride is emphatically not about keeping yourself safe. If you want to stand up then I support you, if you want to keep yourself safe I support you. Because the road to where we are right now? It is covered in the spilled blood of martyrs and I would never ask you to do that, never ask anyone to, but I would also never ever tell you to back down and be safe. Stonewall wasn’t safe.”

And, that’s crazy, right? Telling a kid that we do stand on the shoulders of giants, but those giants did not live to see today? Like, Harvey Milk (who I did not get into) wasn’t shot because he was too good at politics. Some people are alive now, some, a few, a small number. I am one of the youngest somehow, one of the younger of the older generation which is wild to me, impossible. Like, if you’re maybe 40 at the most then you’re the first of the ones that didn’t face The Dying Times, which means the people who dealt with the shit from Stonewall and the following horrors are just.... just gone.

I was stunned this kids didn’t realize the actual genocide made of purposeful neglect had even... even occurred. It was disturbing. I cannot remember the actual square on the quilt, so if you find it then thank you, but it was roughly “I am 19 and will be dead in three months. That’s very sad.”

I’s just, Christ, maybe we need to do a little better education? Maybe a little more on the why of how now came to be? On why Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was revolutionary, on how “In 1960 49 states had anti-sodomy laws criminalizing homosexuality” ignores that in 2015 plenty of states still had those laws on the books? It’s frustrating, is all, it’s very frustrating.

#this is so very clearly a personal post #painfully so #if you want to take bits then ask me and i will likely say yes #if you want to argue then first of all do not and second of all message me #this is obviously not for reblogging #again dog mauled #voice gone #week bad #i do not need a hard fucking time #if you give me one then okay?#i guess i'll deal with that #but like maybe don't?#i'll even put things together more cleanly and articulately if you ask

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mollrat101 · 3 years ago

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Trying to articulate my thoughts but I have a lot of feelings about how hard Deborah tried to give DJ as many advantages as she possibly could.

The Take does an interesting look at Gloria Mendoza from Orange is the New Black and talks about how parents can face the impossible choice between being present with their children or working towards trying to make their situation better for the future.

Deborah seemed to choose the latter.

I don’t necessarily think of this as a right or wrong decision, as each one has its tradeoffs. I’m not a parent, so I don’t think I’m in much of a position to judge. But I do think this decision, for better or worse, has had an effect on DJ and didn’t turn out the way Deborah hoped it would.

From what I remember, we know that (once they did stop constantly traveling) Deb sent DJ to private school, she gave her piano lessons and she sent her to Cornell, an Ivy League college.

But each and every time, these things don’t seem to make DJ’s life any better. Which I feel like that’s the intention behind them.

DJ crashes a car into the school’s gym and Deb has to pay for the damages.

DJ doesn’t learn anything else to play on the piano except the Jurassic Park theme (hilarious, I love it).

DJ graduates from Cornell (pretty impressive considering she was addicted during that. I had to drop out from a nervous breakdown from a normal college in my 2nd year) but DJ is a jewelry maker which doesn’t require an Ivy League education and it’s only when she’s close to her 50s that DJ has reached some sort of independent financial success.

Now I don’t think Deborah was wrong to give DJ any of this. I will always maintain that Deb really tried her best considering how isolated she was and all the bullshit she had to deal with.

But the thing that DJ seemed to suffer from was that she felt an emotional absence from her mother. A lot of parenting experts actually say that typically the best thing you can do is be present with your children and make every interaction a chance to grow the relationship stronger. Everything else is so hard for you to control. You can’t control what socioeconomic status your child is born into, what family situation they’re in, how their friends or community are going to influence them or what world events go on. All you can do is just let your kids know “hey, I love you, you matter to me, I hear you and I want you to explore and, if you need me, I’m here”.

And considering all the trauma and emotional baggage Deborah had, it’s understandable that she couldn’t be that for DJ. But she seems ready now or at least almost ready.

I guess I just get the sense that part of Deborah’s frustration with DJ is that she’s disappointed. She desperately hoped by giving DJ material and social advantages would lead to DJ having an easier life than she had it. An orphan who grew up not having much, not going to college (I’m assuming) and not having much to fall back, it’s understandable she wanted different for her daughter. Most parents want better for their children than they had it.

And you know I don’t think it’s wrong for Deb to be a bit disappointed. Her feelings are her feelings and I’m sure all parents had ideas about how their children might turn out. But also something I’ve noticed about Deborah is that she can’t quite let go of her perception of DJ as essentially a screwup. She searches her bag despite the fact that DJ says she’s been in treatment for 20 years. She insinuates that Aidan can’t be trusted (possibly like DJ’s past partners) but there isn’t any proof he can’t be trusted. The show frames DJ as right for trusting her feelings about Aidan.

Deborah hasn’t updated her thinking about her daughter. I would’ve loved a moment where Deborah actually defends her daughter when Ava calls her a “junkie” in the email. Deb could’ve easily clapped back with “you look like more of a junkie right now than my daughter does”. DJ’s life is going well and Deb hasn’t given her any credit for it (which Ava points out in the email).

But I get it because Deb still hasn’t deal with her own pain and she projects her fears onto DJ.

I feel like the point of Deb’s arc is for her to finally be able to live beyond the past. Her past has affected every decision she’s made and it’s suffocating her and keeping her from truly being happy.

I get that it’s hard for Deborah to admit all her best efforts didn’t help her daughter like she thought they would. Again, it’s good for her to admit she’s disappointed. But she needs to feel that and then move on. DJ, more or less, turned out okay. Deb needs to live in the present with her daughter as she is right now.

That will be help her relationship with DJ.

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