#Stand Up To Cancer 2016

[reunitedinterlude]

lofi phantasy: the album

track 19: blue and black

[kamreadsandrecs]

Title: Some People Need Killing: A Memoir of Murder in My Country

Author: Patricia Evangelista

Genre/s: nonfiction, history, politics, crime, journalism

Content/Trigger Warning/s: journalistic depictions and discussions of crimes such as murder, kidnapping, and rape, as well as natural disasters, including the effects of Typhoon Haiyan (PH name Yolanda)

Summary (from publisher's page): “My job is to go to places where people die. I pack my bags, talk to the survivors, write my stories, then go home to wait for the next catastrophe. I don’t wait very long.” Journalist Patricia Evangelista came of age in the aftermath of a street revolution that forged a new future for the Philippines. Three decades later, in the face of mounting inequality, the nation discovered the fragility of its democratic institutions under the regime of strongman Rodrigo Duterte. Some People Need Killing is Evangelista’s meticulously reported and deeply human chronicle of the Philippines’ drug war. For six years, Evangelista chronicled the killings carried out by police and vigilantes in the name of Duterte’s war on drugs—a war that has led to the slaughter of thousands—immersing herself in the world of killers and survivors and capturing the atmosphere of fear created when an elected president decides that some lives are worth less than others. The book takes its title from a vigilante whose words seemed to reflect the psychological accommodation that most of the country had made: “I’m really not a bad guy,” he said. “I’m not all bad. Some people need killing.” A profound act of witness and a tour de force of literary journalism, Some People Need Killing is also a brilliant dissection of the grammar of violence and an important investigation of the human impulses to dominate and resist.

Buy Here: https://bookshop.org/p/books/some-people-need-killing-a-memoir-of-murder-in-my-country-patricia-evangelista/19968748

Spoiler-Free Review: Okay, so. I already had this in my TBR and was planning to read it in some vague point in the future, but a close friend of mine picked it up and mentioned it in a tweet. Since I was midway through Mona Awad’s Rouge at the time, I promised to give it a shot once I was done with that. The finishing of THAT book got further delayed because Paladin’s Faith got released and I had to read THAT, then continued with Rouge to finish it. When it was all said and done though I picked this up and got stuck in.

Now just to be clear: I am Filipino, have lived in the Philippines all my life, and am lucky enough to live a privileged life by the standards of my country. I didn’t vote for Rodrigo Duterte in the 2016 elections because I liked neither his politics nor his values, and I certainly didn’t like the stories I’d read in the news about the Davao Death Squad, and so was one of many people who felt that sucking wave of dread when it was announced he’d won.

What followed was a nightmare I was lucky enough to view from a distance (afforded to me by my aforementioned privilege), and through the hazy fog of slow-rolling grief because of my mother’s cancer diagnosis, treatment, and death in the following years. I didn’t see all the news reports, but I did see the reactions on social media. One of the earliest ones was #CardboardJustice, which was started by my friend Hope Swann, and then popularized by Adrienne Onday. It was a response to how many murder victims had been turning up with a piece of cardboard attached to them with the statement “Pusher ako” (”I am a [drug] pusher”), as if that would justify their slaughter to those who came upon the victim’s body, as if all that was needed to pronounce one guilty of drug pushing was to have a cardboard sign saying so on one’s person. #CardboardJustice was one of the first grassroots movements pushing back against the drug war, and it was adopted quite widely in the latter end of 2016 and early into 2017.

Another one that sticks out in my mind is #Tumindig (”Stand Up”), which was inspired by the artwork of the same name by Kevin Eric “Tarantadong Kalbo” Raymundo. That artwork, released in 2021, was in response to Duterte’s handling of the COVID-19 pandemic, but also to his government’s half-dozen years of murder, red-tagging, and censorship. Like #CardboardJustice, #Tumindig inspired a movement, especially among other artists - and it was still popular enough by the time the 2022 national elections rolled around to be used by those supporting Leni Robredo’s presidential campaign. #CardboardJustice and #Tumindig - one emerging from the first year of the Duterte presidency, the other from its last - bookend six years of continuous pushback against him and his government.

But what’s puzzling is, there wasn’t any mention of this in Evangelista’s book. And even if she was unaware of those specific movements, surely she was aware of the many other grassroots movements that emerged throughout Duterte’s presidency? People from all walks of life protested against Duterte from before the beginning of his regime, all the way to the end, and even beyond. Why was no mention made of these efforts to push back? My assumption, of course, would be that any mention of these movements was left out for the sake of keeping the book’s narrative and subject matter focused, but if there was room for Evangelista’s personal stories, why was there no room to tell, even in brief, the stories of those who protested and fought back? The concepts of “lumaban” and “nanlaban” are key themes in this book, so why didn’t Evangelista even nod to the protests and protesters?

I would hope that readers, especially foreign readers, will know better than to assume that ALL Filipinos approved of what Duterte was doing, but a part of me is too cynical (especially where white Westerners are concerned) to believe that will be the case. Worse, they might assume that the masa (”the masses”) were uniformly duped into voting for him. So let me say, here and now: many Filipinos from all walks of life saw through Duterte and knew him for what he was. We didn’t vote for him, and we fought back, each in our own way, all throughout his presidency. Some of us - students, activists, social workers, journalists, and many more - were killed, or disappeared, becoming the desaparecidos (”the disappeared”) of the Duterte regime. Many were not directly targeted, but fled due to the dire circumstances both economic and social produced by his regime, looking for better and safer work and living conditions elsewhere. And many of us continue to fight back today.

As for Evangelista herself, her personal stories are scattered all throughout this book, though they are most present at the beginning. While I don’t think there’s really anything wrong with the inclusion of such stories (not least because “memoir” is right there in the book’s subtitle), I kind of found myself sliding through them more quickly as I sought out the more journalistic material on the drug war. It’s not that Evangelista’s personal story isn’t INTERESTING, per se, but I think it would be more interesting to foreigners, who didn’t witness the drug war in real time like most Filipinos did.

Overall I think this is a pretty important read - or, at least, for foreigners: for anyone who, as I said, didn’t see the drug war happening in real time, in front and all around them. And for the most part, it certainly reads like it's aimed at that specific audience, shining a light on events that the rest of the world probably didn’t know about, or only understood peripherally. It’s timely too, considering the ICC case against Duterte plus who the current President and Vice President are. But for those of us who WERE here to witness the drug war, who had to live with Duterte running the country for six entire years and feared he’d declare martial law and rule us for much longer - this book might feel a bit lacking in some areas, not least the coverage of the many protests across those six years. Many people did what they could to fight back - some even disappeared, or were killed, or had to go into hiding or flee to protect themselves and/or those closest to them. It would have been nice to see them get even some coverage in this book.

Rating: four bullets

[killthefuhkinglights]

you know there’s something about Cancer being frank’s favorite song, there’s something about him standing off in the wings every time gerard sings that song, something about him even crying to the song that gets me.

there’s something about this song being played as the opening encore song on the first night of the Sydney shows, about frank writing unkillable on the drumhead, about him screaming you can’t kill me during I’m Not Okay at Melbourne night 2, about this likely being the first time he’s back in Sydney since the accident in 2016.

all that got me thinking: do you think frank thought of this song on the multiple occasions he got hurt? almost died in a bus accident and in the midst of things, in the After of it all, thought of this song? when he told his doctor to not wake him up if the surgery on his wrists and hands would fail, that it’d be better to not wake up on the table than to never play music again, through the contemplation and the fear and the unknowing, thought of this song? this song that one of his best friends sings, the song that he never tires of and watches every time. do you think in these times he thought of those words and when they were sung tonight they were words of protest, of you couldn’t kill me, i’m unkillable.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Emma Brockes at The Guardian:

There are lots of differences between the presidential candidacies of Kamala Harris and Hillary Clinton, but, rhetorically at least, there’s one disparity that stands out. In 2008, when Clinton lost to Obama in the Democratic primaries, she referred to putting “18 million cracks in the glass ceiling”. Accepting the Democratic nomination in 2016, she said: “We just put the biggest crack in the glass ceiling.” And later that year, when she held what would turn out to be her terrible, deflated election night party, it was at the Jacob K Javits Centre, a convention hall in Manhattan that has, er, a glass ceiling. It’s notable, therefore, that several weeks into Harris’s candidacy, she’s not touching Clinton’s ceiling with a 10ft barge pole.

As a piece of imagery, the glass ceiling got very old very quickly, so that even by the time Clinton had it on heavy rotation, it was already emptied of meaning. Even without the phrase’s “all right, Grandma” vibe, it makes basic political sense for Harris to avoid using an image associated with the failed candidacy of the only other woman to be a major-party nominee for president. What’s curious is the decision her team has apparently made not only to eschew that particular phrase, but to handle with slightly more delicacy the nature of her candidacy. If Harris wins, she will, of course, not only be the first female president, but the first Black female president, and the first president, woman or otherwise, of south Asian descent. Pointing out this fact is not a major rhetorical part of the campaign.

Which isn’t to say that Harris is downplaying any aspect of her background. Trump, in an attack that, miraculously, succeeded in actually embarrassing other Republicans, accused her two weeks ago of changing identities when she “became a black person” – further proof that he’s overdue for a cognitive test. In Harris’s speech at the Democratic convention last month, she went in hard on her own biography, introducing to the American electorate her mother, who, at 19, she said, “crossed the world alone, travelling from India to California with an unshakable dream to be the scientist who would cure breast cancer”, and recalling her dad’s Jamaican heritage. But while the speech was steeped in feminist principle around abortion and punishing abusers – Harris became a prosecutor, she said, because a high school friend was being sexually abused and she grew up wanting to nail the bastard – nowhere was the language expressly feminist or foregrounding of the unique nature of her candidacy.

[...]

Instead, Harris lets the optics do the work for her and wears the various aspects of her identity lightly. “I stood up for women and children against predators who abused them,” she said at the convention, trying to spin her role as a prosecutor away from the cop-like end of the spectrum towards something that sounds more heroic and nurturing. But in general, and in terms of the way she uses her own personal history to engage voters, Harris has emphasised coming from the middle class far more than being a woman; and, for my money, it seems to be working. As for Clinton, God love her, she’s still ploughing on with the glass ceiling thing. At the Democratic convention, she referred to Harris’s candidacy as the “highest, hardest glass ceiling”. And fair play to her. She isn’t wrong, factually, even if politically she may be off base. 

Kamala Harris has a real shot to become the USA’s first woman to become President in its 248-year history; however, unlike Hillary Clinton’s 2016 run, Harris has mostly downplayed glass ceiling-type messaging.

[sassyfrassboss]

It’s 2020 all over again.

I can’t stop laughing of how they have re-used the PR from 2016-2020 in 3 days, lolololol.

As much as I can’t stand Charles, I don’t see him giving what they want, problem is that H&M will be happy with invitations at least to Christmas or Trooping, just for the sake of the ‘Sussex Royals’ pr.

Not only the same PR but Meghan brought out boots from 2016 and jewelry from 2018…lol

If I was Charles I would be insulted.

Like “oh so now you think I’m knocking on deaths door you want to come back.”

Or “oh so now I’m laid up sick and so is Catherine you can make this the Harry and Meghan show.”

I just don’t see a cancer diagnosis evolving into H&M coming back.

[morganas-pendragons]

I want to tell a story about one of the best people I knew. Because he died today.

And he was one of the few people who pushed me to pursue my creative passion.

This is long and personal. Dont by any means feel like you have to read it. I just want it here for myself to come back to.

I moved to Illinois in August of 2016. Not long after, I was informed about a standing tradition in Indiana called The Covered Bridge Festival. I was intrigued. And since my mom was going, 18 year old me decided to tag along.

I remember walking down the main road of this event and finding a giant banner that said, “WALKING DEAD ART” on a barn nearby. I was perplexed. It was an antique show. What on Earth is art from my favorite show doing here?

So I went in and was greeted with the most beautiful art I have ever seen. I still hold to that, to this day. I remember walking into that booth and gazing upon that art: Art drawn by a man much older than me who saw the world in only black and white.

Hence his social media presence: the black and white guy.

I was so lonely at the time I had done this. I had just moved to a new state, had left everything I had ever known, to follow my family to a town I hated. And I was so lonely. So bad off. I just felt very.. lost.

I’ll never forget his response. Once I told him I also was a fan of the show, he asked me about that, and then I proceeded to spend the next three hours explaining my OC that I had written just for the purpose of Carol being able to keep a child.

Three hours. He listened to me talk about this for three hours. By the time my mom was ready to leave, she found me still in the barn, still talking his ear off. And he heard every word. I left that barn the same day with so much art and promises to return the following year.

Eventually I came to his booth so often that he started giving me his art at a huge discount because I was “such a devoted fan” (or something along this line) and it was so nice solely for this reason: despite him being an artist and me being a writer, we pushed each others creative passions. I was constantly asking him for art from different shows we both loved.

The last time I vividly remember seeing him was before he was diagnosed with cancer. My mother told me that he was coming over to the house but wouldn’t say why. I was so confused. I only met the man once a year, and now he’s coming to my parents house? Why?

This man, knowing my love for Carol Peletier, took one of his original art pieces of Melissa McBride and put it in this gorgeous frame. To give to me.

For free. Because he wanted to.

“I know how much you love her.”

At this point, I had spent probably 5-6 years expressing my love for Carol and Melissa every time we met. I only missed the festival once due to being too far away and in college. He’d driven from his little town in Indiana to give me this drawing, which now sits on my wall in my apartment. So do his drawings of Daenerys and Wanda.

I was working this morning when I went home for lunch. I had just prayed for him. He had been battling cancer something fierce, which caused him to miss the art show in October of 2023. His wife was there in his stead.

I haven’t been thrown off guard like I was this morning since 2015, when my choir teacher suddenly died of pancreatic cancer. All I saw was a picture of angel wings on his Instagram, and the words: Robin left.

He was gone. Just like that, just after I had gotten home for lunch. I lost my appetite. I lost my energy. I just… feel so defeated. I haven’t experienced death a lot in my life. Every time I do, it’s with someone like this. Someone who teaches me something so crucial, so beautiful, that end up passing away anyway.

My choir teacher in 2015 was the start of embracing my passion for much.

Robin in 2016 was the start of me properly embracing my passion for writing.

So.. Robin… thank you. I am so grateful for you and so heartbroken that you’re gone.

[music-wrestling-nascar-fan]

Stand Up To Cancer 2016

[heyitsmeyuhh]

The Hardest Part (Jean Kirschtein x Reader)

AN: Hi all, sorry I’ve been MIA; school has been crazy, and I haven’t had hardly any time to work on creative things. I’m still working on Blood and Wine I promise, and eventually I’ll get around to Midnight City. I just wanted to sit down and bust this little short story out because I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently and I didn’t want to lose it. Let me know how you like it (or don’t like it)! I know its cheesy and not super realistic but its fiction, so I did it anyway haha.

Song Inspo: I Don’t Love You / Cancer (both by My Chemical Romance)

WC: ~ 4.7K

Content: Angst, mutual pining.

…

February 4th, 2016

I don’t love you, like I did, yesterday.

His guitar solo was always the highlight of the set (in his so humble opinion). Every person in the building was looking straight at him. Most of the fans were either dancing or gazing at him with lusty eyes. A few men around the periphery were glaring at him like they were jealous that their girlfriends were drooling over the band members. One couple in the stands were making out vigorously. His chest swelled with exhilaration.

And when he looked over, she was watching him, like she always was during his solo. His heart skipped a little and he played with a little more intensity.

She was breathtaking; he had no idea how he hadn’t always seen it. She had always been “just a friend” through the years of knowing each other; she’d come over to his place and they would hang out for hours working on sets, watching the latest episodes of whatever show they were fixated on, and just hanging out talking about anything. That isn’t to say he hadn’t fantasized about having sex with her a time or two. However, more than anything, she was a comfort to him, even when she wasn’t trying. On days he was anxious, she would sit with him, sometimes in complete silence. She would sit close to him while watching a movie, so their knees touched or let him sling his legs over her lap just to feel anchored to something. He could fall asleep with his head in her lap, her fingers stroking his hair gently. Other times when he was excited about something, she was the person he always wanted to tell first.

Tonight, the energy from the crowd was intoxicating, and her eyes were there to steady him again. They glowed like fire and if he didn’t know any better, he would think that she was in love with him. He knew she wasn’t, just wishful thinking; it didn’t stop him from imagining them together.

He hadn’t really considered dating her until he had been rejected by the only other woman in the group last December. Mikasa Ackerman, their drummer, was the definition of sultry; she pulled Jean in like she did with every man. But unfortunately, she was head over heels for Eren, their other lead vocalist. Jean couldn’t imagine why. She was gracious about her rejection and she hadn’t let it affect their friendship; she had just always loved Eren, Jean really never had a chance. The first thing he wanted to do was tell Y/n, to sob over a carton of Ben and Jerry’s like they always do watching some soppy romcom, but a nagging feeling told him to keep this one thing to himself. Y/n had asked if he was feeling okay; she always seemed to know when something was up with him no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Instead, he lied and chalked it up to lack of sleep. After moping for a few days, he had gotten over himself. He was more annoyed at pretty boy Eren for getting all the girls than he was about Mikasa passing him over.

Y/n tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and a jolt rocked through Jean’s spine. Nothing Mikasa had ever done was anything like what Y/n could do to him with just that one look. Jean would give up anything for her to look at him like that all the time. He could admit to himself that he had probably always been in love with Y/n deep down; Mikasa really only caught his eye because she was pretty and mysterious. But after the Mikasa situation, he didn’t really feel like threatening another one of his friendships, let alone the best one he had. He’d gotten off easy with Mikasa, but what were the odds of another rejection ending well? He wouldn’t tempt it. Instead, he resigned himself to memorizing every one of Y/n’s glances, savoring every accidental brush of skin, pretending like she was doing it on purpose, imagining what it would be like to hold her up against his chest.

As his solo ended, Y/n shifted her gaze from him and turned back toward her microphone to finish the song. His eyes lingered on her profile and he drank in the striking way the lights illuminated her features. Jean could live with this, for now at least.

---

February 8th, 2016

Y/n was in Jean’s hotel room like she was most nights on tour. Usually, they would be brainstorming ideas on how to make their sets more interactive and entertaining, but tonight they were settling in for a day off tomorrow. Both were drinking a beer, Y/n sitting at the head of the bed and Jean lying on his side, head toward the TV. He was absentmindedly drawing little shapes along her leg with his hands. Y/n couldn’t help but study those hands, veins tracing their way across the back of his hand like rivers. The skin where he traced tingled and burned, but she stayed as still as possible, as if he were a wild animal that she would scare off if she even moved an inch. His eyes had a distant look and his eyebrows scrunched up like they did when he was chewing on a deep idea.  

She had made the decision to tell Jean tonight about how she felt and let the cards fall where they may. Currently, however, she was distracted with the lines of his shoulders as he leaned on his elbow. His shirt was off, and she could see every muscle ripple as he shifted positions, shoulder tattoos on full display, winding down the natural lines in his arms. She made a mental note not to start drooling yet.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?” He snapped back to the present and looked at her, his golden eyes sparkling in the crappy hotel room lighting.

A wave of apprehension washed over her, and for a moment she chickened out.

“Uh, what do you want to do for dinner?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” he said sitting up to face her. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know. There was a sushi place down the road that looked kinda good? But I sorta just want to eat in tonight.”

“I’ll call it in and go grab it for us,” Jean decided. He held the ankle he had just been tracing and kissed it before rolling off the bed to grab his phone. Y/n’s heart raced a little, but she regained her composure quickly. Jean had been touchier lately, which gave her the impression that he might like her too, but she couldn’t be sure. If she had her way, he would just ask her himself, so she could save the anxiety she had building up to this.

He brought the phone to his ear and a muffled voice came through on the other end. “The usual?” he asked turning to meet her gaze. Her eyes flickered from his chest back to his eyes and she could feel her cheeks warm a bit. She thought she could see a brief smirk cross his face, but it was gone so fast she couldn’t tell if she had imagined it. Y/n nodded and mouthed a silent thank you as he placed the order. She pretended to turn her attention back to the TV, though Jean’s bare torso was admittedly more interesting than whatever else was on. Once he hung up, he grabbed a shirt and assured Y/n he would be right back.

The minute he left, she let out a breath. She mentally kicked herself for backing down. Her eyes darted to the bedside table where the spare key card lay peeking out of the little check-in folder. She needed a pep talk. She swiped the card from the table and rushed her way over to Mikasa’s room.

Instead Eren answered the door.

“Where’s Mikasa?”

He stood there in some oversized hoodie and gray sweatpants. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, strands of hair around his temples escaping to frame his face. Green eyes pierced her own, but the haze of weed dulled the focus.

“Out. She’s getting her drum set looked at and you know how much of a control freak she is about anyone touching the thing.” He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed casually.

“Shit,” Y/n muttered under her breath. She considered just calling the whole thing off, but she didn’t want to have wasted all that time she spent hyping herself up for this. She may not have the will power to do it again.

“I need a pep talk.” Y/n grabbed Eren’s sleeve and dragged him back into his apartment.

--- Y/n stood breathless in front of the couch, facing the other lead singer in her band.

“Yeah, Jean asked Mikasa out like two months ago. She didn’t tell you?”

The long-haired brunette was looking at her with inquisitive eyes, a lit joint slotted between his fingers. A tightness had formed in her chest like her heart had sunk into her stomach. As a matter of fact, Mikasa hadn’t told her. Quite the opposite actually. Her mind flashed back to a conversation made in hushed tones, the light scent of alcohol on each of their breaths.

“You should just tell him, honestly, or you’re going to be thinking about it forever and nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Plus, I think he might like you.”

Y/n had been basically in love with Jean for like two years now and nothing had happened. Granted nothing happened because she was too afraid to ruin their friendship. She figured that being friends with him and pining over him forever was better than being rejected and ruining the whole relationship and possibly break up the band.

But on New Year’s, she and Mikasa had stolen away during the party to the bathroom, giggling over something that couldn’t have been that funny. Y/n remembered whispering to her, trying to pretend like they hadn’t locked everyone else out of one of the two bathrooms at the house. They had a long conversation and eventually Y/n spilled her guts about her feelings for Jean, but how she couldn’t stand to lose their friendship if her confession went poorly. Drunk confessions were always the most honest; now she realized that she was ignorant to have taken Mikasa’s drunk advice. She had encouraged her whole heartedly to let him know how she felt; after all, Mikasa had made that her resolution too. She was going to kiss Eren at midnight. For some reason, she seemed to have completely omitted this little detail about Jean being in love with her instead.  

“I can’t believe she never told me.” Y/n felt like she needed to sit down. All at once, she was losing the people that were closest to her. Did Mikasa care so little about her that she pushed her into ruining her relationship with Jean? How could Mikasa not have warned her that he wasn’t interested, that he was in love with her instead?

“It was right at the beginning of December. We hadn’t started dating yet and I guess she just told him that she wasn’t interested. Honestly, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.” Eren took a long drag from the joint and puffed some of the smoke into the air between them casually.

“Yeah.” Y/n said half-heartedly. Suddenly she sagged like someone had slung sandbags over her shoulders. All her nervous energy left her body at once and she slumped into the massive couch next to Eren. She remembered that early December was around the time Jean had gone into his little slump. She did everything she could to try to pull him out but she couldn’t figure out what was going on. He wouldn’t leave his room, he didn’t seem to want to eat, and all he wanted to do was lie around the house. He seemed better after about a week, but now she wondered if he’s been trying to distract himself with her all this time.

“Who was I kidding anyway.”

He leaned forward to look at Y/n’s face. “Oh, shit you really do like him. This wasn’t going to be some quick fuck?” His expression was now serious, his mind combatting the haze from the weed. Y/n nodded dejectedly.

“Damn, I’m sorry you had to find out like that.” he huffed, slouching back into the couch next to her. “Well, Mikasa’s taken. Maybe you could still try talking to him.”

She shook her head silently; she couldn’t form words right now without choking down a sob. Instead, she grabbed the blunt from Eren and took a long drag. He looked at her with worry, she didn’t often partake unless there were special circumstances. Y/n didn’t notice and took a second drag before handing it back to him. She could feel time start to slow around her, and for a moment, this whole situation made her giggle; it wasn’t funny, but it was getting more and more ridiculous in her mind. Eren chuckled beside her, though he had no idea why they were laughing.

After what felt like hours, Y/n stood and made her way back to the door without saying a word. Eren remained on the couch but called over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Y/n paused at the door, looking back to meet his knowing eyes. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” She shut the door silently behind her and she drug her feet all the way back to Jean’s room. Y/n swiped the card lazily, letting herself in and immediately walked straight to the bed and flopped face down.

Minutes later, she was awoken from her half-asleep state to hear someone enter the room behind her. She rolled over languidly to see Jean carrying a bag of takeout in one hand, and a single carton of ice cream in the other. His eyebrows furrowed, but there was a small smirk on his face.

“What have you been up to while I was gone? I haven’t been gone more than 45 minutes.” He chuckled a little and set the food on the desk. Y/n didn’t answer, instead she sat up and stared at his back as he organized dinner across the table.

He’s in love with Mikasa.

“I’m high,” Y/n said obviously. He chuckled again and nodded knowingly. She stood and pulled another chair up to the desk, attempting to recover the happiness she had felt just hours ago and accepting the fact that this was all their relationship would be. Her heart ached dully in her chest as she stole glances of him as he ate, the lines next to his eyes crinkling when he smiled, tongue occasionally darting out to lick his lips. It was all moving in slow motion, her thoughts drifted through her head like molasses. His eyes, caramel in the dim lighting, glided over her smoothly, and the corners of his mouth drew up.

“Are you tired?” He asked softly. Y/n nodded, and Jean stood, leading her to the bed. He pulled back the sheets and she tucked herself underneath. Jean folded the comforter around her and knelt down, face on level with hers.

“Sleep here tonight,” he stated, not asking.

“Okay,” she whispered. She knew she should have gone back to her room. She knew that this would just make everything hard on her in the morning. But at this point, she couldn’t gather the willpower to take care of her future self. She selfishly wanted to pretend just one more night that things were still normal. That things were going to be okay. “Stay with me?”

Jean smiled softly, his eyes droopy with sleep. “Anything for you,” he whispered back, kissing her forehead. He pulled back the sheets again and slid into the sheets next to her, reaching over to click off the lights. She slotted herself under his arm, head against his chest, drifting off to the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat.  

---

April 30th, 2016

The rounded booth they were at was tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, though the din of the room still reverberated around them. Mikasa was sitting next to Eren, her hand on his knee and his arm slung across the back of the bench seat. Y/n sat between her and Jean, with some of the other people from their team filling in the rest. She was attempting to stay involved in the conversation, but she kept drifting back to her own thoughts every few minutes, needing to be called back by someone when she was asked a question.

Since she woke up the morning after she had spoken to (and smoked with) Eren, she tried everything she could to shake her little crush on Jean. She tried focusing on all the weird idiosyncrasies he had, all the gross habits, all the annoying behaviors. The more she looked for these things, however, the more it highlighted the reasons she had fallen for him in the first place. He looked at her and listened when she spoke about things that made her happy or upset. He opened up to her about his dreams and aspirations even when he was embarrassed or bashful about his ideas. He made her laugh until her stomach hurt. And unfortunately, he always seemed to know when something as bothering her, even when she didn’t quite realize it yet.

Because of this, he had been prying her to open up about why she’s been more distant lately, and it broke her heart even more to keep it from him.

But she couldn’t tell him. She could never tell him. Because there was no point; deep down, he wanted someone else.

“Y/n? Did you want to go to that bar after dinner?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, I think I’m just gonna head back to my room actually.”

“Are you feeling alright? You seem really out of it right now,” Armin, their manager asked, concern radiating from his place across the table.

She could really use some of Eren’s weed right now.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ve just had a headache all day.” Y/n gave a feeble smile and looked back at the spot on the table that she had been staring at zoning out a moment ago. She felt a soft touch grace her left knee and she flinched away, glancing up to meet Mikasa’s gaze. She had retracted her hand like she’d been stung and looked at Y/n with concern.

Y/n’s eyes flicked from hers to Eren’s, who had noticed the subtle exchange. He looked to Mikasa and back to Y/n with wide eyes, trying to silently apologize. Y/n was also trying to preserve her relationship with Mikasa as much as possible, but the betrayal was slowly picking away at the edges and she was struggling to maintain her composure. She felt like she had lost two of the people closest to her all at once and keeping her emotions off her face was sapping the energy quicker than she could handle.

Her face got hot as she realized everyone at the table had noticed what just happened. They continued their conversation out of courtesy, but their glances gave them away. Suddenly the air felt thick and she felt the room closing in on her.

“I need to get up,” she whispered to Jean. He scrunched his eyebrows, concerned, and he put his hand on her back trying to be comforting, but she straightened up, avoiding the contact. “I’m just getting a little overwhelmed, I need some air.”

He waved his hand so the others on the bench seat could let her out. He too slid out of the seat and offer her his hand. She took it briefly to pull herself upright and walked swiftly to the door. She pushed it open with her shoulder, stepping out into the brisk night and shivered. Her breath came out shaky, tears threatening to spill over her lashes. She took some deep breaths and swallowed down the lump in her throat; she wouldn’t let them fall, not tonight.

As she was trying to compose herself to go back inside, she heard the soft bell above the door of the restaurant. Lifting her head, she expected to see Jean there to ask her what was up with her again, but instead it was Armin, concern written on his face.

“Hey, are you sick? I can take you home if you need?” he asked worriedly.

“I can’t do this anymore, Armin.”

“It’s okay, I can take you back right now.’ He motioned to pull the keys to the car out of his pocket.

“No, I mean I have to quit the band.”

He froze. They stood there in the cold staring at each other. Y/n thought saying that would feel like the right answer, but instead it just filled her with more anxiety.

“Let’s talk about this in the car.”

They walked to the SUV in silence, closing the doors behind them to seal away the chill.

“What’s going on Y/n?”

“I just can’t do this anymore Armin.” She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling of the cab, letting the tears roll back away from the brims of her eyes. She told herself she wouldn’t let them fall tonight.

“What can’t you do anymore? I don’t understand.” She was silent, continuing to stare up.

“Y/n I can’t do anything for you if I don’t know what’s happening,” he repeated gently. Y/n took a big sigh and finally turned to face him.

And then she spilled everything, all the thoughts that have been weighing on her since that night nearly three months ago. Every aching moment she spent with Jean, the betrayal she was desperately trying to ignore, and the futility of her pretending like nothing happened. The tears blurred her vision but remained in place. When she finished, there was a thick pause hanging in the air.  

“I see.” He finally broke the silence. “So, you want out after your last show?”

Y/n nodded.

“Okay. We should tell the others . . .”

“No!” Y/n interrupted, “I can’t tell them. If they know, they’ll try to convince me to stay and I don’t think I have the resolve to say no.”

“So you’re just going to disappear after? Just take off and never tell anyone you we’re leaving?”

“I was going to say goodbye at the show,” Y/n replied meekly. Armin sucked in a small breath.

“You’re going to blindside them then? Right there in front of the entire crowd?”

“I’ve been writing this song,” she whispered. “I think I’ve finally finished it. I was going to play it at the show. I can’t give them the opportunity to talk me out of it, and this will be sort of like my swan song to the fans.”

“What am I supposed to tell the media? What am I supposed to tell the band?”

“Once I’m gone you can tell the band whatever you want. Tell them the truth, an elaborate lie, I don’t care. I just want to be able to leave that show and move on with my life.” She rolled her head to look out the passenger side window. Fog was rolling in as the night deepened.

“You don’t feel like you owe them an explanation?”

Y/n took a deep breath, allowing just one tear to roll down her cheek. “I feel like I owe myself some peace.”

---

May 2nd, 2016

The crowd surged and undulated to the sound of the music coming from the stage. Every eye was on them and girls screamed for the attention of every band member. Two sweaty bras had been thrown on the stage already. This was likely the largest and most energetic crowd they had seen all tour. The audience was riled up for their last event of the circuit; the perfect storm to have one of the most memorable shows of their career.

So why was Jean feeling so uneasy?

He was watching her sing just like he had been doing for the past year or so. The crowd was always captivated by her, even with Eren singing by her side; she buzzed with her own vitality that was hard to take your eyes off of.

Recently, though she seemed to have lost a little bit of her liveliness during her sets. The glow had left her skin, though this was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking, anyone who didn’t know her like he did. Something was wrong, but she faked it well. She had been acting weird the last few months, but when he had tried to ask her if anything was bothering her, she just chalked it up to feeling under the weather. He didn’t believe her, but he wouldn’t push the topic further. In hindsight, he wished he had.

His guitar solo was coming up. She finished her line and he stepped up to play. He looked over, expecting for their eyes to meet on cue, but her gaze never left the crowd. Her expression was muted; there was less life in her eyes than there was before. Jean felt his eyebrows furrow slightly; she had never not looked at him, even since she started acting different. He played on without missing a beat, but his eyes never left her, silently begging for her to just glance at him. Panic rose in his throat; something was definitely wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. No one else seemed to notice anything was off and it made every hair on his body stand on end.

As the music faded, Eren thanked the crowd and Jean hit his cue to bow and exit the stage, but instead of walking off behind him, Y/n stepped up to the front of the stage. She spoke slowly into the microphone.

“I actually have a little something I prepared myself planned for one last song.” Y/n finally looked over to him with a small shine gracing the rims of her eyes, smiling halfheartedly. After a little hesitation, Eren and Mikasa stepped across the stage to where Jean was waiting, looking at him questioningly. As if he knew what was going on; he couldn’t get her to open up about anything lately, he wasn’t in on this surprise. She seated herself at the piano.

A slow ballad shuddered from the instrument, her fingers deftly weaving her way through the song. Jean’s eyes never left her as he listened to her tell a story about the dying author saying goodbye to her family. That rising anxiety only sharpened and continued to drag its way through his chest.

Cause’ the hardest part of this, is leaving you.

A cold stab of fear pierced his heart.

He looked to Eren and Mikasa, who hadn’t figured it out yet, confusion thoroughly gracing their faces. They met his eyes, which seemed to confirm all three of their revelations. Jean was frozen in place, looking back to her, breath caught in his throat. He could see now that the glint in her eyes were tears that had escaped her delicate lashes. Jean could feel his own well up in his eyes, but he wiped it away quickly; he was desperate to see every detail of her clearly.

Her beautiful face was strained, and she kept her eyes on the piano. The crowd was oddly silent; not just because they didn’t know the words, but because they were also puzzled about this solo encore. They were enraptured though, every eye and phone camera fixated only on her.

The song came to a head and finally, after holding out all night, she finally gave him that glance he has been feverishly searching for.

Cause’ the hardest part of this, is leaving you.

The song reverberated through the stadium as it faded, and the crowd roared. She held his gaze, sorrow painting her striking features. Jean couldn’t feel his body. It wasn’t until she spoke again that the stadium truly understood what that song meant. She grabbed the mic and turned to face them.

“Thank you all for all the support and the love. Tonight, was my last show. I love you all.” Her voice was strained, but she held it together enough to give a wave as she left the stage. Jean, Eren, and Mikasa stood there dumbfounded as the lights dimmed and the curtain rolled down from the rafters.

Her figure disappeared behind the corner of the stage.

Jean was frozen. I’m too late.

[armoricaroyalty]

"[This definition of an affair] brings together three key elements: a secretive relationship, which is the core structure of an affair; an emotional connection to one degree or another; and sexual alchemy. And alchemy is the key word here, because the erotic frisson is such that the kiss that you only imagine giving can be as powerful and as enchanting as hours of actual lovemaking...” Esther Perel. “Rethinking infidelity...a talk for anyone who has ever loved.” TED, 2015.

Previous | Chapter Start | From the Beginning | Next

author’s note: andre got visited by the hair fairy because bald-headed, he looks exactly like a relative of mine and I simply could not cope. s/o to @nexility-sims​ for being a good writing partner as I sent her infinity drafts of this scene! P.S. You can see the pictures from the album here.

Transcript under the cut

4:32 PM / February 27th, 2016

LEONOR | [gasps] ANDRE | Well? What do you think? LEONOR | Amazing...I didn’t think there were any pictures left. I thought all the negatives had been destroyed years ago... ANDRE | No, not all of them... LEONOR | How long have you been holding onto these? ANDRE | Twenty years. Longer. LEONOR | [sighs] You sentimental old fool... ANDRE | If I am, you’ve made me that way. LEONOR | Hush. What does your wife think of that kind of talk? ANDRE | [sighs] She...doesn’t approve. LEONOR | No, I don’t suppose she would. ANDRE | She knows you’re here. LEONOR | Oh? In the country or in your office. ANDRE | Both. I told you, a long time ago....I’d never go behind her back. LEONOR | Yes, and you also told me that we could never see each other again, but here we are. What’s changed, Andre? ANDRE | [sighs] About two years ago, I got bad news...I was diagnosed with lung cancer, and I came very close to dying. LEONOR | I wondered... ANDRE | You weren’t the only one. My press office did a damn good job keeping it quiet, but they can’t do much when you lose 40 pounds and all your hair. LEONOR | I’m sorry, Andre. I wish I could have been there... ANDRE | I know. I did too. Being ill, you...you have a lot of time to think, and...I thought about you. Us. That summer — LEONOR | It was a lifetime ago. We’re different people, now. ANDRE | I know, but...you know what? I don’t have many regrets. But I regret how things ended. I regret hurting you. ANDRE | Leo...could you ever forgive me? LEONOR | ... LEONOR | Andre... [she stands up and kisses him, they make out for a bit and I’m not transcribing or captioning kissing noises] LEONOR | We should go...we can’t be late to the banquet. ANDRE | I’d rather stay here. LEONOR | [laughs] Perhaps we could be a little late...

[2manythoughtz]

Gypsy Rose Is Being Over-Glorified On Social Media 

The girl who escaped years of abuse and went to jail after orchestrating her mother’s death is free and the socials are going crazy about her story.

This isn’t the first time the internet has taken interest in a criminal case, we’ve had many cases of people on social media taking a stand for the best or for the worst but what is happening to Gypsy Rose might be the first time a criminal becomes a famous figure because of her story. And that’s mainly because whether she can be considered a criminal or not is up for debate to this day, but who exactly is Gypsy Rose Blanchard and what did she do?

Some may know her from the famous TV series “The Act” which follows the girl’s story from the day she moved to Springfield (Missouri) with her mother Dee Dee after Hurricane Katrina in 2008 to the day she got arrested in 2015. Her story is a tragedy unlike any ever seen before. In fact, Gypsy has suffered all her life from the abuse her mother put her through, forcing her to take medication and lying about her health conditions when she had nothing wrong to begin with. 

Dee Dee is believed to have suffered from Münchausen syndrome which is a mental condition that makes it so people seek medical attention by faking or inducing physical symptoms as a way to get attention, sympathy or reassurance for themselves. And that is exactly what Dee Dee did, she made up many conditions and forced her daughter to get treatment and lie about it to the public, specifically, she convinced everyone that Gypsy could not walk and had to use a wheelchair, she had cancer and that was the reason why she couldn’t grow out her hair, she couldn’t eat and needed to be fed by a feeding tube, she had an allergy to sugar and many more health problems that were not true. Whenever she had to talk about her daughter’s problems, she would say that Gypsy had the mind of a kid, suggesting that the girl had also a mental disability.

As I said earlier, Gypsy was perfectly healthy and did not need any of the many procedures she went through ever since she was just a kid. And if that was not enough, Gypsy also had to endure a lot of physical and mental abuse as a way for Dee Dee to keep her under control. But how could she do that without anyone noticing? In this case, timing is the answer. Because they moved after Katrina it was easy for the mother to fake hospital records and personal information, such as Gypsy’s date of birth. Thanks to that, Dee Dee was able to convince people her daughter was ill without any type of suspicion from others, not even the doctors who checked on Gypsy. 

Slowly Gypsy started to realize what was going on but she didn’t have the power to go against her mother, mostly because of the years of manipulation and abuse she had endured but also because she was aware that coming clean meant that she would’ve lost everything and have people look at her differently from before. That’s when Gypsy starts to connect with the outside world on the internet in secret and that’s how she meets Nicholas Godejhon who will later on become her boyfriend and help her in her crime.

So what happened? After years of wanting free, Gypsy asks her online boyfriend for help and together they plan on killing her mother to be able to escape her and start a life together. They only succeed in half of it as they get arrested not too long after killing Dee Dee and went to trial. Only in 2016 Gypsy pleads guilty to second-degree murder as she confessed that she was the one convincing Nick to stab her mother, but because of all the abuse experienced she was sentenced to 10 years in prison while Nick was sentenced to life in prison without parole for first-degree murder. 

But why are we talking about her now? Gypsy Rose Blanchard was released from jail last month and immediately started being active on socials. She had always been open with the media about her past and her actions, releasing various interviews and a documentary telling her truth. There was a lot of hype around her release as people all over the world either loved her or hated her but, apparently, the majority of people seemed to be in favor of Gypsy’s early release. 

This new attention quickly transformed into hate as fans started to realize that maybe having a criminal become a famous figure is not the best idea, not only because of the many ethical issues behind it but also because Gypsy herself doesn’t know how to handle herself. She’s been controlled all her life by her mother, she couldn’t say what she wanted nor do any activity others her age would do and now she’s finally free but that doesn’t necessarily mean that she is aware of her words or actions. 

People don’t appreciate the way she’s been using her platforms but also the things she’s been saying in interviews, telling people that she wasn’t responsible for her mother’s death since she didn’t actually kill her, she just planned the whole thing but Nick did the stabbing. I think that comment in particular made people think about the fact that she, a woman who was involved in a murder, is now so popular online that she has 8,2M followers on Instagram and 9,9M followers on TikTok which is kind of scary, she is now living her best life because of all the fame that she accumulated thanks to her story. 

In the span of a month, she went from being the IT girl to one of those problematic influencers we can find on social media. Believe it or not, people all over TikTok are trying to bring her down with old information about her case, trying to show that she’s not as innocent as she claims to be. As I said, it’s debatable whether her intentions were excused or not, there is so much to say about her story that only Gypsy knows. Is it ok to glorify a girl who’s had such a difficult life and will never be able to live a normal simple life like everyone else?

Let me know what you think!

[thegirlzkpop]

˗ˏˋ BASICS ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ stage name. paige

 ˗ˏˋ birth name. phaibun ratanarak

     ……❪ ไพบูลย์ รัตนรักษ์ ❫

     ……❪ MEANING. 'phaibun' is a girls name that means to prosper and flourish. 'ratanarak' is a given name that has no apparent meaning to it. ❫

 ˗ˏˋ english name. paige phaibun rylen ratanarak

     ……❪ MEANING. the french origin of the name paige means 'young servant.' though there are other meaning all around the world. 'rylen' is a variation of the names 'rylan' or 'ryland' and it mean 'island meadow' ❫

 ˗ˏˋ korean name. kim areum

     ……❪ 김아름 ❫

     ……❪ MEANING. the surname 'kim' or 'gim' means 'gold' according to korean origins. the name 'areum' means 'beauty' ❫

 ˗ˏˋ nickname. paigey ❪ by friends, family, and members ❫, thai princess ❪ by fans and jacob ❫ bun ❪ by members ❫, messy bessy ❪ by eric and minju ❫ pai bae ❪ by fans ❫, ryles ❪ by sangyeon ❫

 ˗ˏˋ birthday. july 8, 1997

 ˗ˏˋ zodiac sign. cancer

 ˗ˏˋ birth place. thani, thailand

 ˗ˏˋ hometown. sydney, australia

 ˗ˏˋ current residency. seoul, south korea

 ˗ˏˋ ethnicity. thai

 ˗ˏˋ nationality. thai, australian, korean

 ˗ˏˋ languages. thai ❪ native ❫, english ❪ native ❫, korean ❪ fluent ❫, spanish ❪ basic ❫

˗ˏˋ PERSONALITY ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ mbti. enfj-t ❪ protagonist ❫

 ˗ˏˋ description. enfj's strive for positivity and greatness to those around them. they are known for being leaders and doing the right thing in most situations. their passion and thoughtfulness drives them to do what they believe is good. protagonists aren't scared to stand up for what they believe in, they are more likely to speak up in the debate of good and evil. though they are vocal with their values, they hardly ever come across as pushy or bragging due to their sensitivity. enfj's are open to other people's feelings and concerns, but will continue to stick with their own beliefs at their beliefs. when protagonists speak, they speak from an emotional mindset, which often draws debaters further into their beliefs. protagonists are genuine people with good intent in all that they do. and though they are great at advice, they can often give advice that some people aren't ready to hear. this personality type is ready to take the leader role at any point, they are born leaders. they are lead by passion and care, always having the right idea in their mind.

 ˗ˏˋ strengths. reliable, passionate, caring, charismatic, open-minded, organized, motivated, outgoing, compassionate, responsible.

 ˗ˏˋ weaknesses. unrealistic, overly empathetic, intense, over-worker, overly caring, too selfless, sensitive, weak boundaries, people pleaser.

 ˗ˏˋ habits. leg shaking, messing with jewelry, counting the members, nervous laughing, chewing on her lips, getting ready to fight when scared, clearing her throat to make her members stop messing around, asking other members for their opinions on everything, side-eyeing people.

 ˗ˏˋ phobias. big dogs ❪ cynophobia, mild ❫, bugs ❪ entomophobia, moderate ❫, vomit ❪ emetophobia, severe ❫

˗ˏˋ CAREER ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ occupation. kpop idol

 ˗ˏˋ labels. cre.ker entertainment ❪ 2016-2021 ❫, ist entertainment ❪ 2021-present ❫, kakao m; formerly loen ent ❪ 2015-present ❫, universal music ❪ 2022-present ❫

 ˗ˏˋ training time. 2015-2019, 4 year and 8 months

 ˗ˏˋ debut. december 7, 2019

     ……❪ age; 22 ❫

 ��ˏˋ positions. co-leader, lead vocalist, sub-rapper

 ˗ˏˋ known for. australian accent, being a thai leader, vocals, rapping, her laugh.

 ˗ˏˋ representative number. 44

     ……❪ she chose 44 because her baby sister was born in 2004 on the 4th of october ❫

 ˗ˏˋ designed color. royal blue

 ˗ˏˋ rankings.

     ……❪ singing. 9/10 ❫

     ……❪ dancing. 7/10 ❫

     ……❪ rapping. 8/10 ❫

     ……❪ acting. 6/10 ❫

     ……❪ modeling. 8/10 ❫

     ……❪ songwriting. 10/10 ❫

     ……❪ composing. 6/10 ❫

     ……❪ choreographing. 5/10 ❫

     ……❪ speeches. 10/10 ❫

˗ˏˋ FAMILY ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ mom. n/a ❪ 1975 ❫

 ˗ˏˋ dad. n/a ❪ 1973 ❫

 ˗ˏˋ siblings. bella ❪ 2000 ❫, katie ❪ 2004 ❫

 ˗ˏˋ pets. sir charles III; charlie ❪ white main coon cat, 2014-present ❫

 ˗ˏˋ notable family. n/a

˗ˏˋ PHYSICAL ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ height. 162 cm ❪ 5'4'' ❫

 ˗ˏˋ weight. 49 kg ❪ 110 lbs ❫

 ˗ˏˋ blood type. O+

 ˗ˏˋ hair color. brown

 ˗ˏˋ eye color. dark brown

 ˗ˏˋ body modifications. 8 piercings, 1 tattoo

 ˗ˏˋ face claim. minnie ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

 ˗ˏˋ vocal claim. minnie ❪ (g)i-dle ❫

 ˗ˏˋ voice claim. margot robbie ❪ english ❫, lalisa ❪ korean and thai ❫

 ˗ˏˋ rap claim. lisa ❪ blackpink ❫

 ˗ˏˋ dance claim. yeji ❪ itzy ❫

˗ˏˋ INTERESTS ´ˎ˗

 ˗ˏˋ likes. moonlit nights, spring days, the smell of sunscreen, romance movies, jumping rope, cute things; babies, animals, etc, warm blankets, sleeping in, skinship, shoes, doing hair, flowers, big living space, fruit & veggies, late night talks, the ocean, swimming, seafood, painting, jewelry, driving, board games, room decor, leg day

 ˗ˏˋ dislikes. chocolate, onions, roller skating, gym smells, running, creeps, the smell of gas, silence, bugs, bug bites, horror movies, messes, clowns, those weird antique shops, traffic, the cold, bickering, reality tv, people who hate on her loved ones, people who mistreat people and animals,

 ˗ˏˋ favorites.

     ……❪ movies. the notebook ❪ 2004 ❫, call me by your name ❪ 2017 ❫, la la land ❪ 2016 ❫ breakfast at tiffany's ❪ 1961 ❫ grease ❪ 1978 ❫, harry potter ❪ 2001 ❫ ❫

     ……❪ shows. outer banks ❪ 2020 ❫, grey anatomy ❪ 2005 ❫, stranger things ❪ 2016 ❫, you ❪ 2018 ❫, gossip girl ❪ 2007 ❫ ❫

     ……❪ colors. royal blue and gold ❫

     ……❪ food. salad, burger, french fries, chicken. ❫

     ……❪ drinks. coke, tea, coffee, water ❫

     ……❪ books. harry potter, the silent patient, they both die in the end, red queen ❫

     ……❪ emojis. 🥰😎 ❫

     ……❪ musical artists. katy perry, ariana grande, lady gaga, billie eilish, bruno mars, bts, red velvet, blackpink ❫

     ……❪ songs. i didn't change my number ❪ billie eilish ❫, teenage dream ❪ katy perry ❫, better ❪ ateez ❫, if we have each other ❪ alec benjamin ❫, wrecking ball ❪ miley cyrus ❫ ❫

˗ˏˋ TRIVIA ´ˎ˗

     ……❪ she was voted by both units to be co-leader and leader of the girlz ❫

     ……❪ she's a big lady gaga fan ❫

     ……❪ she says her ideal type is someone that can deal with her mind ❫

     ……❪ her family often called her phaibun or rylen growing up and paige was what her friends would call her ❫

     ……❪ she grew up playing soccer ❫

     ……❪ her mother is a school teacher and her dad works in construction, they were both very supportive of her decision to become an idol and even helped her prepare for auditions ❫

     ……❪ she auditioned for jyp, sm, starship, and loen. loen was the only company that called her back ❫

     ……❪ she has a close relationship with bangchan of stray kids, many fans say they have a lot of things in common and call them the brother and sister of 4th gen ❫

     ……❪ she wanted to be known as the cool one of the girlz but she says she couldn't because the maknaes exist ❫

     ……❪ she didn't know any korean when she was a trainee and sangyeon often tried helping her learn even though they didn't have any languages in common at the time. she said jacob and eric helped her the most though. ❫

     ……❪ when she first met kevin she though he was lost and asked if he needed help ❫

     ……❪ she enjoys art, she often does sketches and oil paintings in her free time ❫

[ausetkmt]

The car made its way along a tree-lined gravel road. The sky was clear, and as the car drove by, the trees swayed from side to side, almost like a sign of welcome. The road opened up into a large pasture. In the middle of the pasture was a wooden pergola with grapes growing on it and a circular garden surrounding it. Tiny houses darted the pasture, as brown children played merrily in the mud. In the center of all of this, planting in the circular garden like she was Mother Earth herself, was a Black woman.

For Chantel Johnson, this scene was “heaven.” It was actually Bear Creek, North Carolina, in May 2016, but more importantly, it was Johnson’s first glimpse into homesteading, and she was hooked at first sight. 

Johnson, an African-American woman in her late 20s at the time, made her way up the gravel road that day with her boyfriend, whom she’d met a few months prior on OK Cupid. Johnson was attracted to his profile picture: a shot of him standing with goats. She recalls thinking to herself, “Are those goats? I want to meet those goats!” 

Chantel Johnson at her first homestead in Chatham County, North Carolina, 2016. Photo courtesy Chantel Johnson

Johnson was grieving and depressed. It had been less than a year since her younger brother, who had been shot and paralyzed on the South Side of Chicago in 2014, succumbed to his injuries and passed away, in August 2015. 

She carried that grief with her up the gravel road that day to visit her boyfriend’s friends, an interracial couple — Black wife and white husband, with kids — who owned a 30-acre homestead in Bear Creek. When the friends offered Johnson and her beau the opportunity to live with them on the homestead and help out, Johnson jumped at the chance. If this was heaven, then perhaps she could find the antidote for her grief here. 

One of the first official uses of the term “homesteading” was in 1862 with the passing of the Homestead Act, signed by President Abraham Lincoln to encourage western expansion and United States agricultural development. But the act of homesteading — a focus on self-sufficiency dependent on the land, with an emphasis on subsistence agriculture — predates the Homestead Act, especially for Black Americans.

Homesteading knowledge and skills allowed slaves to create a modicum of a life for themselves by growing their own supplemental food, raising small livestock and making needed tools and home goods. This same knowledge sustained Black families during the Reconstruction era and beyond. While there have been several resurgences of the self-sufficient homesteading mind-set in the United States, the face of these movements has been overwhelmingly white. 

Meanwhile, Black people, and Black women in particular, have become the poster children for the antithesis of the values homesteading espouses. In contrast to self-sufficiency and hard work, Black women are stereotyped as dependent, disproportionately reliant on public assistance, and unwilling to work, perhaps most famously by former President Ronald Reagan’s racialized “welfare queen” remarks.

Black women also bear the brunt of many of our nation’s worst health outcomes, including high rates of obesity, high mortality from heart disease and breast cancer, and some of the worst maternal health outcomes and infant mortality rates. Only recently has the medical field started to acknowledge the role of trauma in facilitating these disparities. 

Johnson recalls several layers of trauma from her childhood and young adult years. As a young girl growing up on the Southeast Side of Chicago, she remembers moments of joy and abundance contrasting starkly with moments of anger and scarcity, which flowed lockstep with the dwindling of the family’s financial resources from the first to the end of the month. 

Then as an undergraduate student at a predominantly white university in the Midwest, she recalls being shunned by white and more affluent Black classmates alike, because she didn’t speak or behave the way they felt someone in that space should. She quickly learned to code-switch, alternating between ways of speaking and behaving based on her surroundings. It’s a practice that many Black people are all too familiar with, in their efforts to live, work and study in predominantly white environments. 

She also struggled initially with coursework, attempting to translate her Chicago secondary education, where she graduated as salutatorian, to the rigors of university work. Johnson has conflicting feelings about the costs and benefits of her undergraduate education: “I was so fortunate to be at that school, where an institution had time to nurture me, but at the same time I was being traumatized and I was being changed. And that was a very difficult thing.”

Between 2012 and 2014, her middle brother and younger brother were each shot several times, but survived. The ultimate trauma was her younger brother’s untimely death, 15 months after he was shot in 2014.

Johnson received her bachelor’s degree, graduating cum laude, later earned a master’s degree and obtained a research job in North Carolina. But the impact of the trauma remained. Taken together, these experiences created a rage against “the system” in Johnson. She was angry about systemic racism and poverty and the laws, policies and institutions that uphold it. 

“I’ve done everything right — star child, went to college, went to Africa for a few months, did AmeriCorps, I volunteered, I got this job, and I don’t understand why this isn’t enough and my brothers are being shot,” she says.

This revelation, four months prior to discovering Bear Creek, marked the beginning of Johnson’s homesteading journey. In her mind, self-sufficiency was the only option, because the system wasn’t going to take care of her. It was rigged. 

Consequently, by the time she got her first glimpse of heaven, she was already intent on giving up her spacious two-bedroom townhouse in Durham, North Carolina — in exchange for less than 300 square feet of shared living space, with no electricity or plumbing, and an outside toilet. And to gradually transition from her research job, where she was miserable, in exchange for hard labor cultivating, raising animals and living off the land. 

The transition came with other challenges as well. Johnson recalls initially being scared of the chickens she was tasked with putting back into their coops every night, having to rely on the assistance of a 5-year-old on the homestead for help. Also, after moving to Bear Creek permanently, two of the first homesteading tasks Johnson learned were chopping wood and lighting the wood-burning stove for cooking and heat. Two months later, Johnson found herself in the dead of winter, cold in the tiny house. Everyone else was away; she was alone and crying because she couldn’t light the wood-burning stove. 

“That’s when I started to regret my decision,” Johnson remembers. But thankfully her cell phone still worked, so she found a YouTube video that walked her through lighting such a stove. Figuring out how to do it convinced her that maybe she could make it in this way of life. That she could bet on herself to succeed in spite of the odds.

While Johnson didn’t grow up with examples of homesteading around her as a child, for Aja Yasir growing your own food was always a normal way of life. Her parents were a part of the Second Great Migration: the period from 1940 to 1970 when Black people migrated from the South to Northern states en masse. Both of her parents brought the practice of subsistence agriculture with them to Chicago, purchasing a vacant lot next to their home in Englewood, on the South Side, to establish a home garden. They weren’t alone; other families in the neighborhood also had home gardens. For Yasir’s parents, the act of growing your own food was bolstered by 1960s and 1970s Black health messaging from the Chicago branches of the Black Panthers, the Nation of Islam, and Chicago-based Black public figures like Dr. Alvenia Fulton.  

By the time Yasir was born, in the mid 1970s, growing food at home had become an established family tradition. A tradition that was almost broken when in her early adult years Yasir decided she wanted nothing to do with agriculture. Instead, she moved as far away from Chicago as she could, to pursue her bachelor’s degree in Atlanta. But a polarizing global figure would entice Yasir back to the land: Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez. 

Four-year-old Aja Yasir at her parents’ garden in Chicago.  Photo courtesy of Aja Yasir

It was late 2005, Yasir had returned to the Chicago area, completed a master’s degree, and was working at a local radio station. A colleague at the station shared an article about Chávez ousting an American missionary group, New Tribes, from Venezuela, accusing them of being imperialists and exploiting indigenous people. Yasir’s interest was piqued. Then, in 2006, she heard Chávez’s United Nations speech, in which he referred to President Bush as “the devil,” in protest of U.S. global domination. Yasir wanted to investigate the conflicting media images of Chavez — hero of the poor versus villain of democracy. So she left Chicago for Venezuela, with no Spanish and a flimsy local job prospect. She stayed in a town in Barlovento, a region with a large population of Afro-Venezuelans, known for its cocoa production. 

Yasir still remembers how fresh everything tasted in Barlovento, and the prominence of locally grown and made food: “You cannot escape agriculture in that town because everybody is doing something involved with agriculture, whether it’s raising chickens in their yard, or growing bananas, or harvesting and making chocolate. Agriculture is just connected like that.” Barlovento made her appreciate her Englewood upbringing, rooted in urban agriculture. 

Her reunion with the land would come to serve her almost a decade later.  

Yasir considers herself to be someone with a lifetime of traumatic experiences, although she prefers not to retraumatize herself by going into detail about a lot of it. However, she did share about a recent anguish. In January 2016, her 3-week-old daughter, Yaminah, unexpectedly died, falling victim to a rare genetic condition. The cumulative effects of years of unresolved trauma, combined with losing a child, resulted in a complex array of mental health challenges. 

A couple of months after the death of her youngest daughter, Yasir found herself driving around Gary, Indiana, with her husband, trying to decide if they could live there permanently. In 2015, the family had rented an apartment in Gary as a trial, prompted by the lower cost of living than the Chicago suburb where they’d previously resided. Now they wanted something of their own. But Gary had its challenges — hit hard by deindustrialization, white flight, racism and poverty. The city was blighted and grocery stores were scarce. 

Yasir and her husband eventually found a house that had been abandoned for two decades in a less depressed part of Gary and decided to purchase it, under the expressed condition by Yasir that the only way she could live there is if she put a garden in. Shortly after purchasing the property, she mulched the entire front lawn with wood chips, a regenerative agricultural practice to enrich the soil, in preparation for her front yard garden. 

To her surprise, her desire to do something as basic as grow food turned into a public battle with the city of Gary, which sent citations claiming that the wood chips in Yasir’s front yard were debris that was causing environmental problems in the neighborhood. “I didn’t realize that growing food was so abnormal until moving to Gary,” Yasir recalls. What the city of Gary didn’t know was that Yasir was prepared to fight back. 

She wasn’t just fighting for her garden; she was fighting for her life. 

“You don’t understand the grief that a mother goes through when she loses a child … I would not be able to manage the grief without the garden, and so that was the fight. We don’t have a connection to Gary, we don’t have any family here, the only connection to Gary we have is this garden and the garden is how I process grief … I’m fighting for my medicine.”

In 2019, Yasir sought the support of the Farm-to-Consumer Legal Defense Fund, signing up with them as a homesteader. They sent an attorney from California to represent her case against the city. In October 2019, Yasir won. Also, unrelated to her case, in 2019 Yasir’s home became a Certified Wildlife Habitat site with both the National Wildlife Federation and the Indiana Wildlife Federation. In order to be declared a Certified Wildlife Habitat, a garden or outdoor space must be maintained in a way that provides a sustainable environment for native animals and insects. 

Aja Yasir and her husband Yasir Allah in her garden, which she named “A Rose for Yaminah.”  Photo courtesy Aja Yasir

Yasir’s garden, perched against the backdrop of Gary, is an anomaly. A walkway leading to Yasir’s front door divides her front yard into two sides — food plants on the left and medicinal plants on the right. There’s a small retaining wall at the entrance of her yard, on either side of the walkway, to keep the wood chips off the common sidewalk area. Closest to the retaining walls, she plants edible flowers like roses, poppies and hibiscus, for beauty and pest management. On the left, you might find plants like Black Beauty tomatoes, red okra and Eritrean basil. On the right, she grows medicinal herbs like artemisia (also known as Sweet Annie). Around the back of her house, she has a burgeoning orchard with apple, nectarine, cherry and plum trees. She grows more than 200 species of plants, collects rainwater and makes medicinal teas. Her garden provides an invaluable part of her family’s diet. For example, they get 95 percent of their medicinal and culinary herbs and 100 percent of their leafy greens from the garden during the growing season. She named her garden “A Rose for Yaminah,” for her daughter who passed away. 

Typically, Yasir doesn’t get to spend as much time in her garden and homesteading as she would like, finding moments in between homeschooling her daughter and managing her real estate business. And the results of her labor don’t always materialize quickly, which can be challenging. Yasir explains: “The hardest thing about this lifestyle is patience. I’m a regenerative gardener, which means I put a lot of work into soil health and biodiversity. Restoring balance to an ecosystem can be tough, especially when your family’s food is dependent on that ecosystem.” 

Black women are becoming increasingly interested and visible in homesteading initiatives, as evidenced by the Facebook groups Sistas Who Can and Sistahs of Soil, which have Black female membership in the thousands. There has also been a recent upsurge in followers of homesteading Instagram pages led by Black women, like @thehillbillyafrican and @alysonsimplygrows.

Johnson and Yasir’s stories illustrate homesteading lifestyles catalyzed by mental health needs, but for others the health of the physical body is what leads them to homesteading. This was the entry point for Jacqueline Smith (who goes by Jackie), although in a way she’s been preparing to homestead for most of her life. 

At the age of 9, Smith, also born and raised on the South Side of Chicago, was diagnosed with Type I diabetes. Her pancreas ceased to produce the vital hormone insulin, and Smith’s childhood was marked by strict dietary restrictions, daily insulin shots and frequent visits to the doctor. Having to deal with the illness as a child made Smith bookish, by her own description, and reserved.

Jacqueline Smith teaches a young Black girl gardening at her garden in Chicago. (Photo courtesy Jacqueline Smith)

As a teenager, she attended Chicago High School for Agricultural Sciences, not because she was interested in agriculture (in fact, the opposite was true at the time) but because her mother thought that the school would offer her a better education, due to its small student numbers and selective entry process. By the time she finished high school, Smith had developed a true interest in agriculture and was offered a full scholarship at a Midwestern university where she pursued a Bachelor of Science in agricultural economics.

While on campus, she was often assumed to be an African-American studies major. Her interest in agriculture was frequently questioned by her largely white, male classmates, from America’s breadbasket states, who were perplexed as to why a Black woman wanted to learn about agriculture. She met their curiosity with her own questions: “Well, why not? Why can’t I learn this?” She never received a compelling response. 

The beginning of her undergraduate studies also marked Smith’s diagnoses with a second chronic illness, gastroparesis. After finishing her degree and while working at a corporate job back in Chicago in 2006, the stress of her illnesses sent her into a three-day coma. When she awoke from the coma in the hospital, she knew she had to make a change, but she wasn’t sure what or how, so she pursued a master’s degree in public service while she figured it out. 

After earning her master’s degree, she developed an itch to garden. She also started to have recurrent dreams of being pregnant, although she was not. The gardening itch, combined with the increased challenges of managing her health needs while working a structured and stressful 9-to-5, led her to quit her job and become a full-time homesteader. In 2018, she started an agricultural consulting business, GrowAsis, helping clients design, plan and maintain their own garden oasis. When she “birthed” her business and new life, she ceased to have the pregnancy dreams.

Smith lives in Roseland, on the far South Side of Chicago. A typical day involves waking up early in the morning, slipping on her denim overalls, grabbing the chicken feed from her garage, and heading to her backyard to tend to her chickens. She has a total of 11 hens that she keeps for egg production. She usually gives them a small snack of split peas or flaxseeds to eat while she cleans their coop. Their manure is collected and stored for later use in her garden beds. She then turns her compost bin before checking on the status of her vegetable and herb plants. 

Jacqueline Smith holding some produce from her garden in Chicago, 2016.  Photo courtesy Jacqueline Smith

Smith designs her homesteading activities to support her dietary and health needs. During the growing season, Smith estimates that she can produce approximately 80 percent of the food she consumes from her garden and chickens. During the 2019 polar vortex, Smith didn’t go to the grocery store for two months, because she had enough food stored from her garden that she had either frozen or canned herself. 

Homesteading with two chronic illnesses is challenging for Smith. When her illnesses flare up, it can halt her productivity for days at a time. She’s had to learn to rely on fellow farming friends to step in during these times to help her keep her homestead afloat until she recovers. By doing this she’s built a community, a village, that supports her. 

Chantel Johnson has since moved on from Bear Creek, North Carolina, leaving behind that heaven, in search of one that is her own. The challenge is that Johnson is a landless homesteader, renting land to carry out her homesteading activities. She’s moved a total of four times since Bear Creek due to disadvantageous changes in the rental conditions or increasingly intractable rental relationships with the landowners — when you don’t own the land, you’re at the mercy of those who do. Her relationship with her boyfriend dissolved after move number two.  

Despite the challenges, with each move Johnson has been able to expand her operations. She and her boyfriend in Bear Creek started off with 25 hens for egg production, and then added a few pigs, chickens for meat and turkeys. When their relationship dissolved, Johnson kept the animals and continued to add to her livestock progressively. She eventually decided to abandon agriculture and focus exclusively on livestock, due to the frequent moves, as it’s hard to transport crops from one place to another.

As of this writing in July 2020, Johnson is no longer fully off grid, residing on a farm in Chatham County, North Carolina, with a little more living space and a few more creature comforts. She has come a long way from the newly minted homesteader of Bear Creek. She currently has 500 chickens she raises for meat, a significant increase over last year’s stock, due to the high demand for chicken during the coronavirus pandemic. She also has eight pigs that she recently learned to butcher herself, instead of outsourcing them for processing. She plans to raise 125 turkeys this year for the holidays. She sells her sustainably raised meat at local farmers markets or direct order to customers. Amazingly, this is largely a two-person operation, with Johnson and her current boyfriend, who owns some of the land she farms on, as an employee. 

Chantel at her homestead in North Carolina, holding one of the 120 turkeys she raised for the holiday season.Photo courtesy Chantel Johnson

Homesteading still plays an integral part in managing her mental health needs, having experienced several ups and downs throughout this four-year journey. Johnson characterizes the first part of her homesteading journey as being about survival — proving that she could survive in this lifestyle. Now, she is determined to make the second half of her journey about thriving. It’s a sentiment shared by Yasir and Smith as well — the intention not just to survive, but thrive.

Beyond this shared intention, these women’s stories are connected in their origins — experiences with trauma as Black women in the U.S. and a decision to return to the land for healing — sisters of the soil, victors of their destiny.

Shanna B. Tiayon is a social psychologist, freelance writer and speaker. Her work focuses on topics of well-being and the ways we may infringe upon the well-being of others. She’s a TEDx speaker and 2020 Best American Travel Writing award winner. When she’s not working in the area of well-being, she’s homesteading with her family — gardening, preserving food and composting.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Author Ask Tag

Ooo I haven't done this one yet 😁😁 Was tagged by @anyablackwood (here) and @gummybugg (here), thanks you guys!

I mean technically you both tagged my main but this is my author profile so there, lol

ANYWAY

A quick light tagging of @moonluringfrost @adie-dee @astellarium @bloodlessheirbyjacques @winterandwords @afoolandathief

and on we go! Using Abracadabra for any WIP-related questions

1. What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

Be annoying a do crime? lol Ehhhh don't really have one. Though Rod (MC) does muse at the end:

My mother survives through me because I choose to remember her traditions. Whenever it is that I truly die, I will only live as long as my stories do. Beings, Terrans and otherwise, are easily forgotten. Stories and traditions are not. I guess that’s all any of us can truly strive for.

So...ig if there's a lesson of Abracadabra it's to make your story a good one? As in one that you like and are proud to have been a part of, one that those close to you will want to tell and close to them will want to tell, etc etc

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

I'd say 'not a lot' but in all honesty I took inspiration from probably a thousand different things and each bit was a thought or idea or small detail or something similar, and so I can't point to one thing and say 'yes, this inspired the world of Abracadabra'. Plus it's set on modern-day earth, so...I feel like the snippets of inspiration would be evident to those who watch/read the same things I do, lol

3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, and help readers grow as a person?

We both have very simple aims; to be entertained, to tell a good story, and to maybe play a trick or two.

4. How many chapters is your story going to have?

Right now it's standing at 29. I was hoping to get it up to at least 30 initially, and hopefully with the re-write I'll manage to get it up there. If for no other reason that to make it a nice round number, lol

5. Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content. I plan to self-pub once it's done, but...I dunno, I'm entertaining other options. I mean I'm still going to self-pub once it's done, but I'm waffling between doing things like putting up done chapters on Tumblr. I also entertained the idea of using Neocities to make a blog where you can read all the stuff for free, using Substack for chapter releases before publishing, posting on Royal Road...etc.

6. When and why did you start writing?

In general? I started writing when I was 12 (I think, may have been before that) and it was legitimately reading Lloyd Alexander and thinking, "can I do this? Can I write like this?" and no one told me I couldn't, so I did. And now here we are.

For Abracadabra? I think I started writing it in 2016 as a part of a trilogy where each book followed a different MC with one large overlapping plotline so you got to see what the others were doing when they ran into a different MC. And said trilogy started because I began working with my dad (one of my biggest fantasy/storytelling influences) in my first actual collab. We were about halfway through the first book when he got diagnosed with cancer. By the time I got to the third book (now Abracadabra) I was on my own and felt I needed to finish the story. Possibly why Abracadabra has the 'lesson' about our lives being stories that live in other's hands.

7. Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers on Tumblr do you follow?

My dad had a saying. "I didn't cheat, I used all my resources to the best of my ability."

While hilarious and also said to cover up the fact that he was, in fact, cheating (and I can hear him saying that to me now, because he insisted to his dying day that it's not cheating and it's a mantra I'll adopt at opportune moments) man was also a genius, observant, and hacking computer systems in high school. In the 70s. So when we accused him of cheating on computer games, what he was saying in a hilarious and quippy way was "I figured out how to reprogram the game to bring my desires of how I want this game into the parameters of how it functions because I that is a thing I know how to do."

Point being, to other writeblrs...don't be afraid to use all your resources to the best of your ability. Cheat the hell out of the system.

...

Also back up all your digital shit. Save it in at least three different places, make sure one of them is in an offline format or - even better - an offline removable format (like a portable hard drive or usb, or even written down on physical paper). My first book took two years longer than it was supposed to because the laptop I was using crashed two days after I finished the first draft and three years of work went down the drain and the only thing I had left was about three pages of a cut scene I wrote in the middle of history class. I had to rebuild it from memory.

I mean, it turned out better I think, because I had at least three years of writing experience to build off of at that point and that's also likely why it went faster, but I also had a panic attack when it happened and that wasn't fun.

Also the writeblrs I follow tend to be a) ones that followed me first and b) ones that I looked at and went 'oh yes, I can be friends with this person' (usually because I have begun reblogging a bunch of stuff because it made me laugh or think or nod along or I agree with it or thought it was interesting or). Not always in that order, tho lol more of a social follower ig.

[moonwarriorautumn]

The Worlds of Psychiatric Counterstrike and Unusual Beauty

Keep in mind, the worlds of these two series are very similar, they are two completely different worlds. Psychiatric Counterstrike has psychological beasts and people fighting them, and Unusual Beauty doesn't.

There are other races in these worlds, besides the human race. There are elves, fairies, dwarves, centaurs, trolls, and more. At first there were only humans, but after the Tower of Babel fell, and the human races separated into groups, to different parts of the world, some of the groups adapted to their new environments, which is how there came to be other races.

Biology is a bit different in theses worlds. For one there is no bowel movements, just urination. Most of what people and animals eat gets turned into energy, and what's left over is liquidated and urinated out. No gas either. There's no acne. No body hair (except in the case of certain races, like for example, werewolves or satyrs.) Sweat doesn't stink unless the person has some kind of sickness (they should still shower, though.) People and most animals can regrown each of their teeth up to five times per tooth, in the event that one or more are lost (this doesn't mean they don't have to take care of their current teeth.) (I've eliminated alot of gross stuff from my worlds because I'm squeamish.)

Magical creatures exist in these worlds, and most of them are docile and intelligent, especially dragons. There are very few magical creatures that are dangerous, like cockatrices and bugbears. There are also magical beings known as nympths. They are born from trees and flower bushes that have long life expectancy, lakes, rivers, and the ocean, and clean skies. They don't have reproductive systems and are all aroace, but they do have gender indentities, most of them are female. There is less crime in these worlds, thanks to nymphs, keeping watch over other living things. They will intervene when innocents are in danger. Cities and towns also have security cameras throughout the streets.

People are able to understand and communicate with animals that they love. They're still speaking their native tongue, they just can understand each other. Most animals and magical creatures feel safe around people who can communicate with them. But not all animals and magical creatures will cooperate. Some creatures are just beyond reason and are sociopathic and/or psychotic.

These worlds are alot less populated than our real life world, there is far less pollution, and there's hardly any need to worry about global warming. People and magical creatures are taking good care of the Earth.

The USA is a much better place, including California and the southern states. People can't be politicians if they're older than sixty. The economy is much better, there's no inflation, and workers are paid well. There are hardly any people who are homeless. There is also free healthcare (including dental and medicine) for people, animals, and magical creatures. School hours are shorter, starting at 12pm and ending at 3pm, and there's only a small amount of homework for students. (Kids need plenty of sleep hours, time to wake up so they can listen better at school, and need time to relax and do other things after school!)

Because of the existence of magical creatures and plants, medicine is more advance. There are permanent cures for alot of auto immune disorders and the first three stages of cancer, as well as the common cold, flu, canker sores, and all STD's. There was never a Corona pandemic, not only because of it was prevented from getting out, but because vaccines were made and given out in 2016. Sex change surgery is also even better. They still can't reproduce like cis-gender people, but they can experience intimacy the same way.

The LGBTQIA+ community (the A stands for asexual!) and many different races are more widely accepted by the world, but there are still a few of those who are prejudice and hateful towards them.

Keep in mind, that while these worlds are better than our real life world, they are not perfect. There are still problems. There is still crime, hatred, and corruption. It's just not as bad as what goes on in our world.

[nothingunrealistic]

When the propulsive financial drama “Billions” premiered in 2016, its core premise centered on the vicious blood feud between U.S Atty. Chuck Rhoades and billionaire hedge fund king Bobby “Axe” Axelrod. The hatred between the two men was so fierce it was almost assured that only one man would be left standing at the end. But the climactic moment of the series finale showcased a warm handshake between Rhoades (Paul Giamatti) and Axelrod (Damian Lewis) as they reflected how their vicious duel had radically changed them both and made them better men. The moment was unexpected but also inevitable. The former foes had joined forces this final season to combat their common enemy — Michael “Mike” Prince (Corey Stoll), a billionaire who was not as brash as Axelrod but who unveiled a sinister hunger for power as he launched his candidacy to become president. The complicated plot by Rhoades and Axelrod to take down Prince was flavored by the head-spinning double-and triple-crosses that have made “Billions” one of Showtime’s biggest hits. Highlighting the final season was the return of Lewis, who left the show at the end of the fifth season to spend more time with his family in England. His wife, actor Helen McCrory, died of cancer in April 2021. Executive producers Brian Koppelman and David Levien, who created the show with financial journalist Andrew Ross Sorkin, discussed that final handshake, Lewis’ return and whether Prince was a variation of former President Donald Trump. This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

When the series premiered, it seemed to be leaning toward who would get destroyed first — Rhoades or Axelrod. Did you know at that time how the drama would eventually end? Levien: I would love to say that when we started the show that we knew where it was going to end, seven seasons and 84 episodes later. But we just didn’t have that kind of master plan. Koppelman: We didn’t know the Mike Prince part in the beginning. But what we did know was that we wanted to keep our eyes open and our ears open, so that as the show went on, we would still understand the mores of how people in the stride of the show mythologized themselves. We have a new kind of billionaire, [one] who wants to present themselves as having concerns for the holistic nature of the world and the harm that money can do. That new rhetoric was quite different from Axe. There was a scene where Axe says, “Come on, guys like us are monsters.” And Prince says, “Well, but I’m a cuddly monster.” Anyone who tells you they’re cuddly monsters is not, right? Once we had that piece in there. we understood then the kind of ending we might be marching toward. Levien: Damian Lewis left the show for a little while because of some difficult circumstances in his life. But then, when he was able to come back, it gave us a chance to have a fresh attack on this ending. Koppelman: The character Mike Prince really breathed life into us. We’re seeing these characters who think they are better Caesars. We wanted to continue the story about them. When we realized we could have Bobby Axelrod come back, it allowed us to set up an ending for obsessive “Billions” fans to build something satisfying.

Still, it’s probably startling for fans to see Rhoades and Axe shaking hands at the end. Levien: Yes, they come to a place of grudging mutual respect. There was a more dangerous enemy that seemed to threaten the well-being of everybody on the planet. That was something that could unify them temporarily. After that, they say they are going to go back to doing what they do. All bets are off. So it’s possible they will find themselves at odds again. Koppelman: One thing we discovered as we were going is that there was a truism about them early on — each of them had reason to be revealed onto themselves, and to not lie to themselves. In Prince, they both saw someone who perhaps lied to himself in the mythologizing. So maybe Bobby and Axe saw in each other something slightly more pure.

It was a nice touch to reference Blind Faith, the supergroup fronted by Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton that recorded one album and then had a big breakup. Koppelman: Yes. This idea that people of diverse talents can come together and create something meaningful, recognize that, and then go their separate ways — that felt real and true for us. We felt we earned that particular handshake.

Is the Mike Prince character your commentary on Donald Trump? Koppelman: I don’t think it’s for us to say. We put it out there. We let Mike Prince articulate why he thinks he should be the leader of the free world and the rest of the world. He talks about his unique capacity to be the one person who knows when to first strike with nukes. None of it strains credulity. It’s for the viewers to figure out whether it rings of stuff that is in the current world.

Did you know that Damian Lewis would come back for the final season? Koppelman: He did tell us before he left that he would come back for the final season, whenever that was, but it was unspecified how many episodes. The opportunity to have him for half a season was just awesome.

This season also saw the return of some great “Billions” villains, including John Malkovich as crafty Russian oligarch Grigor Andolov and Clancy Brown as U.S. Atty. Gen. Waylon Jeffcoat. Levien: We wanted to make this season for people who really loved the show, and for ourselves. We wanted to see these characters that we had in our hearts one more time.

The other element that evolved was how the series also had this ensemble cast of outrageous and wacky characters who worked at the hedge fund. Levien: We had such a deep bench of great actors. Each one of them would take a character that didn’t have a lot of real estate and make them indelible in a short amount of time.

So what’s next? I know it’s hard to say now. But in a perfect world, will there be more of the “Billions” universe? Koppelman: This kind of world and these kinds of characters — very capable people who think they have all the answers and who might overestimate that capability, gamblers who put it all on the line — they fascinate us. That’s the area that we’re drawn to, and I’m sure we’ll continue working in it in some way. Levien: It’s been an incredible experience doing this show. It’s been the most singular run of our entire career. An amazing ride. Koppelman: We never took it for granted for a second.

[toughgirlchallenges]

Lisa Thompson - From Novice Climber and Breast Cancer Survivor to summiting Mt. Everest and K2. Inspiring others to reach new heights through her book "Finding Elevation: Fear and Courage on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain”.

In a world where mountain climbing is still considered a male-dominated activity, Lisa Thompson is a force to be reckoned with. The second American woman to summit K2, Lisa has overcome countless obstacles in her journey to become one of the world's top mountaineers. From her early days of hiking and climbing in the Pacific Northwest to leading all-women expeditions in Nepal, Lisa's determination and perseverance have been the keys to her success.

Lisa's journey has not been without challenges, including a breast cancer diagnosis in 2015. However, she refused to let this setback define her, and instead used it as motivation to pursue her passion even more passionately. She founded Alpine Athletics, a training company that helps aspiring climbers reach their mountain goals, and has since led expeditions to some of the world's highest peaks.

In her recently released book, Finding Elevation: Fear and Courage on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain, Lisa shares her personal journey of climbing K2 and the lessons she learned along the way. Her story is a testament to the power of perseverance, determination, and self-belief, and is sure to inspire anyone who is looking to take on their own personal challenges.

As Lisa says, "The right path is always to be true to who you are." Whether you're a novice climber or an experienced mountaineer, Lisa's story is a reminder that anything is possible with hard work and a little bit of courage. So, if you're looking to push yourself to new heights, be sure to check out Lisa's book and connect with her through Alpine Athletics. Who knows? You just might find your own path to the summit.

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Don't miss out on new episodes of the Tough Girl Podcast, airing every Tuesday at 7am UK time. By hitting the subscribe button, you'll get access to inspiring stories of women sharing stories of adventure and challenges. Additionally, you can support the mission to increase the number of female role models in the media by visiting www.patreon.com/toughgirlpodcast. Thank you for your support!

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Show notes

Who is Lisa

Living in Seattle in the USA

Starting climbing in 2008

Wanting to give back to the climbing communities 

Her early years and growing up in a little farm town in Central Illinois 

Being outdoorsy but not sporty

Starting to push herself more in the outdoors and in the mountains 

Wanting to be seen as capable by her peers

Starting to get into hiking and climbing 

Climbing Mt. Rainier (also known as Tahoma), 4,392 m, located in Washington State

Having a desire to prove people wrong

Often being the only female on the team

Using spite as a motivator to start

Starting to climb mountains for herself 

Taking it to the next level

Being diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015 at 42 years old

Planning to climb in the Himalayas for the first time.

Wanting to climb Mt. Manaslu (8th-highest mountain in the world, 8,163 metres above sea level)

Making big changes in her life in 2016

Choosing to end her marriage and quit her corporate job

Dedicating herself to her passions

Selling everything she owned and going to climb Mt. Everest

The process and method used for starting again

Listening to her gut and knowing that she was doing the right thing for her

“The right path is always to be true to who you are”

Sharing big goals publicly or keeping it private?

Deciding to climb K2 

Tips for handing stress and pressure

Focusing on breathing and using breath as a way to calm her nervous system

Using mantra in the mountains

Her experience of climbing Mt. Everest in 2016

Descending the Geneva Spur by using an arm wrapping technique

Finding her voice in the mountains and starting to stand up for herself

Dealing with the Adventure Blues after doing a big challenge

Planning future climbs while on the current climb

Enjoying the process of training and keeping fit

Book: Finding Elevation: Fear and Courage on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain

Making the decision to climb K2 in the Summer of 2018

Questioning whether or not she was doing the right thing

Knowing that she was capable of climbing the mountain

Making two promises to herself - that she would not climb above her ability and doing the best she could every single day. 

Dealing with self doubt

Working as a mountaineering coach 

Starting her training company - Alpine Athletics

Leading an all women’s climb in Nepal

Planning future all women expeditions in the USA and Nepal

How to connect with Lisa

Final words of advice for women who want to take on their own personal challenges

  Social Media

Website: www.lisaclimbs.com

www.alpineathletics.net

Instagram: @lisaclimbs 

Facebook: @lisatclimbs 

Book: Finding Elevation: Fear and Courage on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain 

  About the book: An inspiring story of danger, daring, and triumph on the world's most dangerous mountain. Finding Elevation is the story of mountaineer and cancer survivor Lisa Thompson as she climbs through the "death zone" of K2.

Defiance led Lisa Thompson to the male-dominated world of mountain climbing. But after battling breast cancer, she needed to understand the motivations behind the risks she took while climbing. Finding Elevation is more than her climbing memoir. It is an examination of the human spirit and motivation.

Readers will be gripped by Lisa's path from amateur mountain climber to world-class mountaineer as she:

Becomes the second American woman to summit K2

Conquers the world's most dangerous mountains

Defines her own limits, and

Discovers what she's truly capable of 

In this inspirational book, readers will be moved by Lisa's story of heartbreak, resilience, and the discovery that we must define our own boundaries, find our own happiness, and face our fears head-on.

  Check out this episode!