#and this random person who said they were also autistic came into my replies to tell me im an idiot

[autisticlee]

sometimes random memories slap me in the face and I need to rant about them. (don't mind me, ignore this)

sometimes I randomly remember that time I tried to stand up for and help an autistic person who was being misunderstood, was very upset, and felt like they were possibly purposely being bullied.

I tried to gently explain what they actually meant to the person who misinterpreted their words, with no ill intentions at all. but it ended up with 20+ people attacking both of us and turned in to we're "ableist against schizophrenic people" due to a huge misunderstanding where her mental illness wasnt even relevant to the situation at all! but they all tried to use it as an excuse for her gross behavior. that's not an excuse.

the other autistic person spoke English as a second language so there was some language barrier as well, and was saying things in the autistic way of being super straightforward and direct. a girl who randomly replied to them put words in their mouth that weren't there and insisted that the autistic person meant something completely different than they did. this always happens to us and it's very upsetting, even traumatic (i think all autistic people have a degree of cptsd due to this) she got irrationally angry and upset about this made-up, misinterpreted thing that the autistic person never said or meant and made them feel horrible about it. so they tried to calmly explain again and again to get her to understand and calm down, but she refused to accept it and got angrier.

she decided SHE was being harassed by autistic person and decided that they started it and tried shutting them down. all for being told she was wrong and misunderstood the autistic person (and she was very wrong btw lmao) she refused to admit to it or apologize and stood on her wrong ground, offended and irrationally angry about a thing that was never even said.

i came in to try to help "translate" the autistic person's intentions/words and mediate between them because i can't stand misunderstandings since it's very traumatic for us autistic people. but somehow it turned into her and the people she got to come after us claiming we're harassing her. they used her mental illness that I didn't even know she had as an excuse for her to play the victim in all this and attack US, claiming we are the wrong and bad ones who started it. saying we targeted her for her schizophrenia. we are the big bad autistic people who are ableist against schizophrenic people and purposely harassing them 🤦‍♂️ but they aren't ableist against us/autistic people for that, apparently??? because they can never do any wrong??? 🤢

if you're wrong just admit it, apologize, and move on. don't try to turn it around and play victim. don't send your whole follower list after two people who are just trying to help you calm down and understand a small mistake. you dont deserve my sympathy because you feel overwhelmed or whatever for being told you're wrong. bringing up your mental illness as an excuse doesn't make it better or ok. don't use your mental illness against the other person to act like you did no wrong and claim THEY are the one harassing you when you were the one that upset them first and they're just trying to work things out with you.

don't be that person. don't use your mental illness as a gotcha to play the victim and attack other people who didn't have ill intentions. it's gross. and don't support people doing that shit. that's also gross. I will never feel bad for anyone who does this.

[gendercensus]

On fae/faer pronouns and cultural appropriation

HOW IT STARTED

I had a handful, a very small handful but more than two, responses in the Gender Census feedback box telling me that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative. The reasons didn’t always agree, and the culture that was being appropriated wasn’t always the same, but here’s a selection of quotes:

“Fae pronouns are cultural appropriation and are harmful to use“ - UK, age 11-15

“I’m not a person who practices pagan holidays but, my understanding is that pronouns like fae/faeself are harmful because the fae are real to pagans and is like using Jesus/jesuself as pronouns“ - UK, age 11-15

“I know you've probably heard this a million times, so has everyone on the internet, but the ''mere existence''of the fae pronoun feels really uncomfortable for some of us. I'm personally not against neopronouns like xe/xim, er/em and the like, I am a pagan but apart from the, imo most important, reasoning of that pronoun being immensely disrespectful, I worry as an nb about people who banalize the usage of pronouns ''for fun'', and I'm quoting what some people have told me.“ - Spain, 16-20

“I don't agree with fae/deity pronouns just from a pagan perspective it's very disrespectful to the cultures they come from. Like Fae are a legit thing in many cultures and they hate with a fiery passion mortal humans calling themselves Fae to the point of harming/cursing the people who do it“ - USA, age 16-20

“only celtic people can use far/ faers otherwise it’s cultural appropriation, many celts have said this and told me this“ - USA, age 16-20

So that’s:

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

❌ Someone who definitely isn’t pagan.

✅ Someone who is pagan.

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

❓ Someone who doesn’t say whether they’re pagan or Celtic.

So, just to disclose some bias up-front, I am English so I’m not Celtic, but I do live in Wales so I am surrounded by Celts. The bit of Wales that I live in is so beautiful in such a way that when my French friend came to visit me she described it as féerique - like an enchanting, magical land, literally “fairylike” or thereabouts. Coincidentally I have also considered myself mostly pagan for over half of my life, and I can’t definitively claim whether or not the Fae are “part of paganism” because paganism is so diverse and pick’n’mix that it just doesn’t work that way.

To me the idea that fae/faer pronouns would be offensive or culturally appropriative sounds absurd. But also, I am powered by curiosity, and have been wrong enough times in my life that I wanted to approach this in a neutral way with an open mind. Perhaps what I find out can be helpful to some people.

So since we only have information from one person who is definitely directly affected by any cultural appropriation that may be happening, the first thing I wanted to do was get some information from ideally a large number of people who are in the cultures being appropriated, and see what they think.

~

WHAT I DID

First of all I put some polls up on Twitter and Mastodon. [Edit: Note that this post has been updated with results from closed polls.]

I specified that I wanted to hear from nonbinary Celts and pagans, just so that the voters would be familiar with fae/faer pronouns. I asked the questions in a neutral way, i.e. “How do you feel about...” with “good/neutral/bad” answer options, instead of something more leading like “Is this a load of rubbish?” or “are you super offended?” with “yes/no” options. I provided a “see results” option, so that the poll results wouldn’t be skewed as much by random people clicking any old answer to see the results. And I invited voters to express their opinions in replies.

Question #1: Nonbinary people of Celtic descent (Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man, and Brittany), how do you feel about non-Celtic people using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

Question #2: Nonbinary pagans, how do you feel about non-pagans using the neopronoun set fae/faer? [ It's good / No strong feelings/other / It's bad ]

The Twitter polls got over 1,100 responses each, and the Mastodon polls got over 140 responses each. With a little bit of spreadsheetery I removed the “N/A” responses to reverse engineer the number of people voting for each option, combined those numbers, and recalculated percentages.

Obviously this approach is not in the least scientific, but thankfully the results were unambiguous enough and the samples were big enough that I feel comfortable drawing conclusions.

Celts on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-Celts (561 voters):

It's good - 42.5%

No strong feelings/other - 44.0%

It's bad - 13.5%

Pagans on fae/faer pronouns being used by non-pagans (468 voters):

It's good - 47.2%

No strong feelings/other - 39.5%

It's bad - 13.3%

Here’s how that looks as a graph:

The limitations of polls on these platforms means that we have no way to distinguish between people who have more complicated views (”other”) and people who have “no strong feelings”, so we can’t really draw conclusions there. If we stick to just the pure positive and pure negative:

Celts were over three times as likely to feel positive about non-Celts using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

Pagans were over three and a half times as likely to feel positive about non-pagans using fae/faer pronouns than they were to feel negative.

So Celts and pagans are way more likely to feel actively good about someone’s fae/faer pronouns, even when that person is not a Celt/pagan. That’s some strong evidence against the idea that fae/faer pronouns are appropriative, right there.

~

CORRECTIONS

To be clear, I haven’t done any research about the roots of fae/faer or the origins of the Fae and related beings, but my goal here was to get a sense of what Celts and pagans think and feel, rather than what an historian or anthropologist would say.

On the anti side, here were the replies that suggested fae/faer either is or might be inappropriate:

“I only worry that not everyone understands the origin of the word outside of modernized ideas of fairies.“ - pagan

“As a vaguely spiritual Whatever (Ireland), I think a mortal using "fae" as a pronoun/to refer to themselves is asking for a malicious and inventive fairy curse (on them, their families and possibly anyone in their vicinity, going by the traditions). I have not heard of this term before, so this is an immediate reaction from no background bar my cultural knowledge of sidhe/fae/term as culturally appropriate. My general approach is people can identify themselves as they want.“ - Celtic

So we’ve got a pagan who’s wary that people who use fae/faer (and people in general) might not have a fully fleshed out idea of the Fae. And we’ve got a Celt who doesn’t mind people using fae/faer personally, but based on what they know of the Fae they wouldn’t be surprised if the Fae got mad about it. No outright opposition, but a little concern.

There were not a lot of replies on the pro side, but not because people weren’t into it, judging by the votes. There were a lot of “it’s more complicated than that” replies, many of which repeated others, so quotes won’t really work. Here’s a summary of the Celtic bits:

“Fae” is not a Celtic word, and Celts don’t use it. It is French, or Anglo-French.

“Fae” can refer to any number of stories/legends from a wide variety of cultures in Europe, not one cohesive concept.

There are many legends about fairy-like beings in Celtic mythologies, and there are many, many different names for them.

The Celts are not a monolith, they’re a broad selection of cultures with various languages and various mythologies.

And the pagan bits:

Paganism is not closed or exclusive in any way. It might actually be more open than anything else, as “pagan” is a sort of umbrella term for non-mainstream religions in some contexts. A closed culture would be a prerequisite for something to be considered “appropriated” from paganism.

From my own experience, pagans may or may not believe in the Fae, and within that group believers may or may not consider the Fae to be sacred and/or worthy of great respect. (I’ve certainly never met a pagan who worshipped the Fae, though I don’t doubt that some do.)

And then we get into the accusations. 🍿

“this issue wasn’t started by Celtic groups or by people who know much about Celtic fae. It was started primarily by anti-neopronoun exclusionist pagans on TikTok.“

“[I’m] literally Scottish [...] and it’s not appropriative in the least and honestly to suggest as such is massively invalidating towards actual acts of cultural appropriation and is therefore racist. Feel like if this was actually brought up it was either by some people who seriously got their wires crossed or people who are just concern trolling and trying to make fun of both neo-pronouns and of the concept of cultural appropriation and stir the pot in the process.“

“It wouldn't be the first time bigots falsly claim “it's appropriative from X marginalized group" to harass people they don't like, like they did with aspec people when they claimed "aspec" was stolen from autistic language (which was false, as many autistics said)“

“It's been a discussion in pagan circles recently ... People were very quick to use the discussion as an excuse to shit on nonbinary people.“

“I think it would be apropos to note that the word "faerie/fairy" has been a synonym for various queer identities for decades, too. The Radical Faeries are a good example.“ (So if anyone has the right to [re]claim it...)

A little healthy skepticism is often wise in online LGBTQ+ “discourse”, and some of these people are making some very strong claims, for which I’d love to see some evidence/sources/context. Some of it certainly sounds plausible.

~

HOW DID IT START?

I had a look on Twitter and the earliest claim I can find that fae/faer pronouns are cultural appropriation is from 18th February 2020, almost exactly one year ago today. Again, tweets are not the best medium for this, there was very little in the way of nuance or context. If anyone can find an older claim from Twitter or Tumblr or anywhere else online, please do send it my way.

I have no idea how to navigate TikTok because I’m a nonbinosaur. (I’m 34.) I did find some videos of teens and young adults apparently earnestly asserting that they were Celtic or pagan and the use of fae/faer pronouns was offensive, but the videos were very brief and provided nothing in the way of nuance or context. For example:

This one from October 2020 with 29k ❤️s, by someone who I assume is USian based on the word “mom”?

This one from December 2020, that says “I am pagan and i find it rather disrespectful. It’s like using god/godr or jesus/jesusr.” That’s probably what inspired the feedback box comment above that refers to hypothetical jesus/jesusr pronouns.

If anyone is able to find a particularly old or influential TikTok video about fae/faer pronouns being appropriative I’d really appreciate it, especially if it’s from a different age group or from not-the-USA, to give us a feel for how universal this is.

For context, fae pronouns were mentioned in the very first Gender Census back in May 2013, though you’ll have to take my word for it as the individual responses are not currently public. The word “fae” was mentioned in the pronoun question’s “other” textbox, and no other forms in the set were entered so we have no way of knowing for sure what that person’s full pronoun set actually is. This means the set may have been around for longer. The Nonbinary Wiki says that the pronoun set was created in October 2013, as “fae/vaer”, later than the first entry in the Gender Census, so I’ll be editing that wiki page later! If anyone has any examples of fae/faer pronouns in use before 2013 I would also be very interested to see that.

~

IN SUMMARY

Obviously I can’t speak for everyone, as the Twitter polls are not super scientific and they only surveyed a selection of Celts and pagans within a few degrees of separation of the Gender Census Twitter and Mastodon accounts, but I can certainly report on what I found.

For a more conclusive result, we’d need to take into account various demographics such as age, culture, location, religion, race/heritage, etc.

As far as I can tell based on fairly small samples of over 400 people per group, a minority of about 13% of Celtic and/or pagan people felt that use of fae/faer pronouns is appropriative.

A much higher number of people per group felt positive about people who are not Celts or pagans using fae/faer pronouns. The predominant view was:

It can’t be cultural appropriation from Celtic cultures because fairy-like beings are not unique to Celtic cultures and Celtic cultures don’t call them Fae.

It can’t be cultural appropriation from pagan cultures because paganism is not “closed” or exclusive in any way, it’s too broad and open.

~

If your experience of your gender(s) or lack thereof isn’t described or encompassed by the gender binary of “male OR female”, please do click here to take the Gender Census 2021 - it’s international and it closes no earlier than 10th March 2021!

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

.

.

.

It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[kirobsi]

Chris Chan and Gatekeeping

Content Warning: I talk about transphobia and general bigotry here, there's a slur, and there are mentions of rape/sexual assault. It's not too fun. Also, this post was made in large part due to my thoughts after watching this video about Cabaret by David J Bradley. The contents herein aren't new considerations for me, it's largely recycled thoughts from several months ago, but I felt very compelled to write this after watching that video.

A very quick summary of Chris Chan: Christine Chandler is an autistic trans woman infamous online for her very strange artistic projects and behaviour. She's seen by many as horrifically maladjusted and her 'hijinks' are observed and documented extensively by those who think they're funny, or otherwise interesting. She's been routinely taken advantage of or harassed since 2007 or so by random people on the internet and it has had a severe effect on her perception of reality, one which was already quite tenuous. She came out as trans on November 20th 2014, arguably on December 2nd of that year, which depressingly few people respect or acknowledge beyond mockery. At the end of July 2021, it had been found out that she'd raped her mother, someone who, as common knowledge dictates, probably suffered from dementia for a long time. (Or perhaps that was confirmed at some point, I can't say for certain.)

The vast, vast majority of those who follow her completely ignore her identity, opting instead to misgender her constantly. Before and after this 2021 incident, I was very much against this. At least as of March of 2020, when I spoke to someone about it. It's a shitty thing to ignore someone's identity, it makes them feel horrible, invalidated, alien, and that precedent is extremely harmful and hurtful.

But Chris raped her mother. Indisputably. Is it really so much of an issue to misgender her, then? Why would you respect the identity of someone who'd do something so heinous? By respecting her gender, well, you're trying to defend a predator, are you not? By defending her, you are siding with a rapist, downplaying the severity of her crime or otherwise ignoring it.

This is the thought process that's abused to guilt trip people into being transphobic. I looked around Twitter near this time, and came across a set of tweets which I think exemplify this well. Let's take a look:

So we begin with a meme claiming that society would be a utopia if Chris wasn't regularly abused, harassed, and neglected throughout her entire life. I thought it was relatively funny. A reply then tries to elaborate on this non-point, and in the process misgenders Chris, to which another user replies a correction.

To be fair: the individual who misgendered Chris claimed in a reply to this correction that they simply hadn't known Chris was trans. They also make a pretty good point regarding some of the tactics people use to excuse their treatment of Chris, so I don't think this person's necessarily a shitter.

But then comes in another individual to offer his two cents:

They conflate respecting someone's identity with endorsing their actions, as if they are remotely the same thing. They elaborate by spouting the "she's only trans to Get Bitches because that's the new trendy thing that all the kids are doing these days," which is entirely baseless from what I can tell. I've seen a lot of people claim that Chris had actually outright stated that she was only trans for this kind of purpose, in the hopes that she could get a partner or otherwise get special treatment, but as someone who's watched the entire Geno Samuel documentary up to this point (not sure I'll continue, but that's another matter entirely), I don't recall that ever being said. I'm pretty sure it would've been in there. Besides, there were absolutely instances in the past where Chris said stuff or behaved in ways which hinted towards her ending up trans anyway. The way she fucking came out was through adopting a name on some random forum, and someone on Facebook asking her directly if she'd like to be referred to with female pronouns, to call it understated is an understatement. It is not feasible that she just did it for attention or benefits.

Maybe this comes as a shock, but real life isn't Ace Ventura - trans people don't become trans to run away from their crimes. At least, no moral trans person does, but the targeting here is unnecessary and transparently to discredit trans people as a whole. Shitty people exist in all forms, and there are far more shitty cis people than trans. Do people run to Twitter to denounce that someone was a tennis fan because they did something horrible? Do people claim that "this person wasn't a REAL straight cis guy, we can make an exception for him," for a serial rapist? No! They fucking don't, because that's the expected default, and that's something they want to uphold. But when it's "the other," oh boy, what a perfect opportunity to bring that into the equation to demonize a minority despite it being completely fucking irrelevant to what happened!

But let's not ignore the second tweet from this guy's little tangent: that respecting Chris Chan's identity is not only morally disgusting because it's "respecting rapists," it also serves to give trans people a bad name. It supposedly sets back LGBTQ+ progress as a whole, by making these sorts of bad associations which the general public will be put off by. This is absurd. The only reason this could be offputting non-LGBTQ+ people is if that's the agenda being pushed, otherwise it's just "someone who happens to be trans raped her mother." That Chris is trans has no bearing on what she did, they're completely separate, but it's very useful to lump them together so trans people can be painted as sexual deviants and predators, tainted beings who selfishly and immorally seek pleasure. To then take this actual attempt at trans erasure and spin it as "just being concerned for public perception of LGBTQ+ people!" is fucking disgusting concern trolling. Absolutely reprehensible shit.

But I gave this person the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were a victim of this ideology, so to speak, and not a peddler. Maybe they were engaging with this in good faith, but were misguided.

I think I worded this quite well, although I didn't focus as much as I could/should have on how this is a strategy to spread hatred of trans people.

The response? (and yes, it was over a month later, the guy evidently doesn't use twitter much. I didn't skip any tweets)

Mask off, doesn't even care anymore, straight up uses a fucking slur and doubles down on the pathetic attempt at guilt tripping without even trying to engage with my points. Fuck this guy, he is deplorable, he knows exactly what he's doing and he revels in it.

But this isn't just the one guy, this is emblematic of something far greater. And that's why I made this post: to whoever can end up reading this, do not buy into this idea. It actively serves to further the agenda of nazis who want trans people, and by extension all other LGBTQ+ people, to stop existing or being heard. They want to invalidate the identity of everyone by denying extreme examples within the group their right to an identity, which then sets a precedent to deny that of others. It communicates the idea that trans people are necessarily lesser than cis people, that their identities are opt-in rather than a human right. By believing in this, by spreading this idea around, you are actively supporting this agenda and providing the foundation for it to thrive, to lead to action. Harmful, despicable action. Inevitably, genocide.

Gatekeeping who can or can't be allowed to be considered "trans" is strictly harmful. Same goes for other such identities in the LGBTQ+ group. Oppose this shit whenever you can, don't be complacent in this bigotry. Don't be complicit. Refer to these people as who they are or were, even if they're horrible people, and make it known as best you can that this mindset is not okay.

Fuck transphobes and all the hatred they stand for.

[lemystical-puffle]

My A3 Sexuality Headcanons that no one asked for!

[These won’t include Gender, only sexual orientation or lack thereof(is that a phrase?)]

Color coordination

Gay

Bi

Pan

Aro

Hetero

Sakuya Sakuma: Pansexual! He doesn’t have any preferences, honestly after his childhood he just wants someone who will love and accept him!

Masumi: Bisexual. I feel like he would love the director whether they be boy, girl, other, all, he just wants someone to give him attention, and that person just happened to be out beloved Izumi Tachibana.

Tsuzuru: okay this ones me projecting but whatever Aro/Ace Tsuzuru. He doesn’t feel romantic attraction, and instead just feels a family-brotherly kind of love towards his friends and fellow actors. He doesn’t really want to romantically be with someone, and yet instead just wants to be there for them when they need it and love them the same way he loves his family at home

Citron: Also pan!! But Pan-Romantic specifically. Citron literally just wants to love everyone ever because he’s just awesome like that, but won’t go pass kissing someone. It just makes him uncomfortable which is perfectly fine because he is Citron Lastname! But yeah, also no gender prefermance

Itaru: Bi with a male preference. I can’t really explain why I think this, I just do. Maybe because most of the woman he has ever shown interest in are his 2D anime waifus. Also I mean come on he totally had a whole thing for Lancelot he thinks knights are hot and that is so valid.

Chikage: he is a gay cabbage. Listen the only time he has said he liked a woman it was because he said they weren’t like his mom and I am just- I’m sorry I don’t trust that. This man is a gay, he is never had a boyfriend but he has definitely thought of hooking up with his boss for a raise, thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

Tenma: Also bi! Bi-Ace specifically. I wasn’t really sure where to put him because on one hand I feel like he has a lot of MLM energy but on the other hand his solo song so I just, bi. I feel like his gay awakening came when he played the token gay best friend in a romcom because gay actor erasure but Tenma didn’t really understand, but later he was in a scene where he was with his boyfriend who shows up for one second to remind the audience he’s a homosexual and Tenma was just: crap he’s not

Yuki: okay at first I didn’t know what to put for Yuki cause on one hand sexuality erasure Yuki has specifically said he likes girl and he defies stereotypes and stuff but on the other hand he never said he didn’t like boys so he’s bi with a female preference. I feel like Yuki is the kind of guy to just happen to fall in love with whoever and just go “oh crap did I just fall in love?” And while he likes girls more sometimes it just. Happens.

Muku: Surprise surprise he’s Pan! Muku totally reads shoujo manga with all sexualities and is very livid about good representation, will write a “negative review” (and in Muku terms that’s him being very polite, 4.5/5 stars and linking research resources) about how inaccurate a sexuality was portrayed. I feel like at first he just thought he was a very active ally and now he is just: “oh crap boys. And girls. And enbys. And genderfluids. And everyone.”

Misumi: Misumi is very homosexual, which at first he was sad about because homosexual has 2 o’s which are circles but then he realized he can just say gay but spell it like: G🔺Y so he got happy again. I feel like it was one of the reasons he was kicked out of his home, he just likes boys Jeez Ikaruga parents no rights. (I also Headcanon him as autistic but that’s not what this post is about).

Kazunari: In Kazunari Miyoshi’s world he never has to make a decision in his life and that includes sexuality. Show him a guy and a girl and tell him to pick one and he will simply overload until he picks the person who knows the most trivia on classical art or smthing. Kazunari just: adores everyone ever, and that’s okay! After a lot of internalized homophobia and fear, he was able to come out to first a small group of college friends and eventually felt comfortable with the label and was able to express it openly, now he wears it with pride!

Kumon: I really don’t have any explaining to go here, Kumon just feels gay to me. My head can’t wrap around him wanting to be intimate with a girl. I do think there was this big moment of him coming out to Juza and Juza just going “s’okay.” Then they hug and get ice cream

Banri: Banri is bisexual with a straight pride flag and a Juza Preference. Catch him at the straight pride parade telling “those Homo’s that they’re going to burn.” While making out with Juza against a wall. That’s canon I don’t take criticism

Juza: Also Gay, I feel like Kumon came out first and Juza did research and was like “oh me too.” And just thought about how he’s never actually liked a girl and thought boys were kinda pretty and oh crap Settsu slicked his hair back oh crap oh crap pretty men.

Taichi: Taichi is bisexual, with his preferences being as random as his hair. Except no weird 1/4 quarters going on. Idk where I was going with that analogy I’m sorry. Taichi just likes the humans and wants to go kiss kiss with them all, and then bring them along on his journey for fame and popularity!

Omi: Listen, Omi is the mother of Mankai, and as the mother he loves everyone unconditionally. He also totally wanted to kiss Nachi I’m sorry. I feel like Omi has a male preference, but only by a bit as he loves everyone! He is a good boy and brings all the snacks and water to the pride parades so his friends stay healthy :)

Sakyo: Sakyo is the straight~ supportive dad who doesn’t care if you’re gay straight bi pan anything as long as you pay your taxes. Was probably a little confused at first just because. Probably said “LGBT? Isn’t that a sandwich.” But he got informed did research and is now a huge ally! After more research he identifies specifically as graysexual/romantic as he feels rarely any romantic attraction at all unless under certain circumstances aka Izumi Tachibana. I akso think he suspected that Azami was LGBT for a bit before he came out so he wanted to do research so that Azami would feel comfortable coming out when he was ready. Also he can’t like, not support Sakoda (who I Headcanon as gay :) )

Azami: Azami is bi-aro. Sex? Nah he won’t even hold your hand before marriage, however he will love you no matter your gender. I also see him with a female preference just from his straight upbringing and it’s the title he feels most comfortable with after some internalized homophobia, especially with how his dad shamed him for liking makeup. He is still getting used to the LGBT community and I feel like he is still taking baby steps, learning about different identities and wanting to do all he can to support both himself and his fellow actors due to simply not knowing where to start. Don’t worry Azami take you’re time! There is no rush, you are trying to figure yourself out and we all love you so much for it, there is no shame in changing your mind later. We adore you all the same. (If you couldn’t tell, I wasn’t only talking to Azami. If you are still questioning yourself it is 100% okay, because honestly I am too. There is no rush to figure yourself out, and I hope you know that we are all here for you!)

Tsumugi: Tsumugi is gay, but I feel like he also had a lot of internalized homophobia. I feel like when he was younger he really liked Tasuku but didn’t really understand the difference between platonic and romantic, and it took some time before he was able to really discover himself and come to the identity he has currently.

Tasuku: Tasuku is gay and homophobic.

Hisoka: Hisoka is homo-demi-romantic asexual. I feel like it won’t want to date anyone without really earning their trust and feeling safe around them, and after that point he still will be pretty shy romantically, but it is very much understandable and we all still love Hisoka

Homare: Homare is pan. He doesn’t really care about gender, he just wants someone who will love him and his poetry without seeing him as broken. I feel like after his last relationship he was hesitant to date again, but after some time and help from the rest of winter troupe he was able to rediscover himself. (Also autistic Homare go brrrr)

Azuma: Azuma is an old gay man who just thinks boobs are neat. That’s it that’s the post sent tweet turn off replies.

Guy: New color who this? This is because I didn’t know what to put for Guy, so he simply doesn’t identify as anything. I don’t know a lot about Guy but I know enough to feel like relationships would be very awkward and touchy for him due to his problems with emotions and expression. He isn’t straight, but he doesn’t really identify as anything either. He’s just: Guy. Which is more than valid

[oh also all of winter is Poly and they’re boyfriends thanks for coming to my Ted talk]

Hope you all liked these! Of course they are all my own opinion and you don’t have to agree with all, they’re just how I feel!! Feel free to reply or reblog with your own opinions or Headcanons!!

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 103

This chapter was, honestly, a complete an total delight to write. I wanted to take an opportunity to work more with a character who has gotten very little ‘screen’ time: Sam.  He’s one of two characters on the autism spectrum (please correct me if that isn’t the right term?) who are based on actual people who I’ve been acquainted with.  I’ve admittedly shied away from writing much of Sam or Derek, largely because I have been scared into flop-sweats at the possibility that I will misrepresent autistic people. Even though I was acquainted with the real life versions of both Sam and Derek, that was nearly a decade ago and memory is fickle.

However. In an effort to do better all the way around with the characters I am writing, I found podcasts of people on the spectrum talking about what makes them unique, how they feel about being autistic, and what they consider good representation. And then I took a deep breath and wrote this chapter. It is the first, but I don’t want it to be the only. Turns out? Sam is a REALLY neat dude (I think)!

Finally, finally, I had a day off from work and crises. Tyche planned to spend the day baking, Antoine was booked solid with appointments after taking his ‘sabbatical’ to help Xiomara, and everyone else in my life was currently either teaching or attending Galactic Core classes this shift.  The single exception was Conor, who currently was serving his volunteer shift in the aeroponics lab. 

Because of this, I was currently making my way down there, steak and beer pie in hand, to surprise him with lunch. A happy humming trailed behind me, both from the newfound free time on my hands and the fact that Hujylsogox technology meant I wasn’t burning my hands while carrying the food for more than five seconds.  In fact, forty-five minutes later, the pastry was still hot, my hands were still cool, and I was paging for entry into the lab with a note that I was carrying food, just in case any poisonous plants were out.

It was one time I forgot, and fortunately it only upset Conor’s stomach and wasn’t fatal.

Shortly, the door slid open to reveal - Sam, not Conor. “Hey,” I grinned, recovering quickly. “I didn’t know you’d be down here right now, or I would have brought you lunch, too.” Trying to be less awkward, I gently rocked the pie in my hands. “I’m sure Conor doesn’t mind sharing though?”

Sam smiled in return and stepped back. “It smells like beer,” he replied. “But thank you.”

“The alcohol cooks out?” I tried, caught between being polite and being pushy.

To my somewhat relief, he shook his head. “Yeast,” he pointed out, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out slightly. “Not a fan.”

Couldn’t exactly blame him, since I didn’t drink beer for a similar reason. “Next time, I’ll check if you’re going to be here, and bring you lunch too.”

“Sophia,” he started to admonish, before affixing me with a wordless stare.

Ugh. Apparently, I wasn’t quite free of my own awkwardness. “I just feel like I should bring food for everyone I know and not just Conor,” I tried to explain. “Where I grew up, it’s rude to bring food for only one person.”

“I eat,” he replied, waving vaguely.  

It took a few moments to realize that I completely misunderstood the gesture.  He wasn’t waving without meaning at all.

“Are those tomatoes!?” I gasped. “And that’s baby butter lettuce… Cucumbers!? You have cucumbers!?”

“Baby ones,” Sam grinned proudly just as Conor came in.

“Thought I heard your voice,” he laughed before tipping my face up for a kiss. “Sam showing off his salad again?”

I forced a glare and gently poked my partner in the chest. “Tomatoes. Conor. You did not tell me there were fresh tomatoes.”

Conor laughed, but Sam was the one to reply. “They just turned ripe today. You can have them if you want?”

“Oh, gosh,” I gasped, no small amount of wistfulness in my words. “Sam, I was joking. Just teasing him, I promise. I wasn’t seriously mad, and please don’t give these to me because you thought I was upset. I’m not. It was a joke.” Trying to compose myself, I forced a hand through my hair. “Did you grow these?”

He nodded, excited. “In soil we think will be like the soil on Von. As a test, to see if they taste different.”

My head, neck, and eyebrows all shot up. “Are they safe to eat?”

“These are, yes. The earlier ones, we weren’t sure, so Conor couldn’t tell you about them.”

“Sam, seriously. These aren’t my tomatoes. They belong to everyone, so thank you for being careful and not letting anyone eat them until you were sure.”

“I know you want a tomato, Sophia.” Without hesitation, he reached out and plucked three from a nearby plant. “If all three of us eat one, to test the flavor, then they can’t be ‘your’ tomatoes, right?”

Conor shook me gently. “He has a point, love.  These are the first batch that ripened and tested safe for humans. Sam’s probably eaten his weight in them, but I don’t think any other people have tried them.”

Sam looked down, trying to hide his ear-splitting smile. “They taste really good.”

With a sigh of defeat, I looked at the dark red berry in my hand. My curiosity instantly took over. “These look like zebra tomatoes, kind of.”

Sam’s face lit up, while Conor was still studying the one he had. “They’re a cross! A black zebra tomato and a Cherokee chocolate tomato, modified to be grape sized!” He popped his into his mouth, crushing it happily. “Not very acidic, but the soil also gives them more of a mineral flavor.”

Fascinated, all hesitation left my body as I shoved the fruit into my mouth. The first bite was an explosion, part familiar acidic taste, part something that I could only describe as ‘red’, and something… almost stony. Not in texture, but in flavor.  It wasn’t something I had ever experienced with a tomato, but - 

“Wine,” I murmured. “It’s.. stony, like a wine. New Zealand white, actually, with the volcanic soil… That’s…”

“It’s clean,” Conor interjected. Chewing thoughtfully, he continued. “That mineral taste keeps it from lingering in your mouth. I bet I could eat one of these tomatoes and bite a piece of cake right after without the flavors crossing.”

Sam replied, but it was so quiet I couldn’t hear him. When I asked him to repeat himself, he turned his face toward me with his eyes closed, hands grasping nervously. “I like to dip them in Nutella,” he enunciated loudly.

OH.

The idea of ‘tomatoes and Nutella’ made me draw up short, but then I thought over what Sam had said. He didn’t say he liked tomatoes, in general, in hazelnut spread, he said he liked these tomatoes dipped in it. And Conor’s point about eating one and then a bite of cake echoed through my mind. Nodding firmly, I tried to telegraph my confidence in Sam as hard as I could, lifting my chin far enough to make my neck itch. “Well then. You know these tomatoes better than anyone, and have eaten more than anyone. I would like to try these in Nutella, if you have three more ripe ones?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open briefly before he snatched three of the fattest little tomatoes he could find.  Eagerly, he yanked open a random drawer and revealed a hidden container of the spread. “I’ll have to hide it again, Conor eats it on everything,” he confessed before swiping the tomatoes through like they were strawberries, leaving a neat little curl of chocolate and hazelnut on each one.

Taking the one offered to me gingerly, I had to admit I felt intrigued.  The deftness Sam used to dip them told me that this wasn’t only something he’d tried, it was how he enjoyed these the most. Before Conor could get over the concept of chocolate and hazelnut on a tomato, I popped my treat in my mouth to satisfy my curiosity.

Holy. Fiendish. Shit. I almost choked on the amount of saliva that filled my mouth. That was incredible, if I was being brutally honest.  I never would have tried it with a tomato grown in Terran soil, but… hell. This was a whole new thing. “Sam,” I choked out as I desperately tried to keep from shouting. “You’re….. That’s brilliant.” The flavor was like chocolate, hazelnuts, strawberry, and orange, washed down with a good wine. “I think you just converted me to Nutella.”

Conor gaped, which only made Sam laugh harder. “Sophia,” Conor sputtered. “Do you mean to tell me that you hate Nutella so much that experimental tomatoes are what convinced you? I feel like I don’t know you at all, suddenly.”

“Yeah, no,” I confirmed. “This is probably the first time I’ve liked it in my life.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We aren’t even married,” I pointed out, before realizing that Sam was getting incredibly upset. “Annnnnd we can’t make that joke, babe.” Making sure Conor saw me glancing at Sam, I clarified. “Sam, that’s just a joke. Conor wouldn’t break up with me over Nutella any more than Maverick broke up with me because I like spicy food. But we - “ I elbowed Conor just hard enough to get his attention without making him choke on his second tomato, “won’t joke like that again. I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly, Sam nodded before wrinkling his nose. “You do like really spicy food.”

“I do,” I confirmed. “And Maverick does not. So, I make him food that isn’t as spicy. And, just like that, I don’t eat Nutella, and Conor doesn’t make me.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sam turned to Conor. “Is that why you always steal mine?”

Conor nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, mate. I’m really bad about that, aren’t I?”

“It’s free, Conor,” Sam pointed emphatically to the wall. “From the console.”

“Does that mean you’re mad?”

“It means stop leaving empty containers in my drawer. If you eat the last of it, at least get me more. Geez!”

“So, you aren’t mad?”

“I’m mad about the empty containers,” Sam scowled. “There is nothing nice about coming to work with all this fruit” he gestured expansively “and having nothing to dip it in.”

Conor opened his mouth to reply, but closed it just as quickly.

“He’s got a point,” I added, knowing I was entirely unhelpful. “I mean, what if I made meatloaf and no mashed potatoes? Or gravy? No either?”

His head snapped toward me, his expression horrified. “Sophia, what in the…. You would never expect someone to -” Without prompting, he cut himself off. “Ah, shit. I’ve been an arse, haven’t I?”

“You have been a complete donkey,” Sam intoned seriously. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I think you owe me pickles.”

Conor groaned at that. Sam loved pickles, but only specific kinds. Predictably, my boyfriend’s face pivoted to leverage his most beseeching expression at me.

Unfazed, I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not the one who ate his snack topping. I’ll give you the recipe, and you can make the pickles.”

“Love…”

“Taking his Nutella and not replacing it is rude, and you know how I feel about rude people.” I examined my nails closely. “And you are perfectly capable of getting whole radishes and matchstick carrots from the console, but nice try.”

“Brussels sprouts, too, please,” Sam asked politely.

All I could do with such a request was nod firmly. “And the brussels sprouts.”

“I don’t even like - “

“They aren’t for you,” I pointed out. “Although, I’m sure Maverick will appreciate it if you make a double batch of the radishes.”

“And Derek likes the brussels sprouts,” Sam pointed out.

When Conor sank to the floor with a groan, neither of us could restrain our laughter.  Who knew that ill-gotten chocolate led to pickling your worst enemies?  Then again, I guess Conor was about to find that out the hard way.

<< Prev   Masterlist  Next >>

[mirrorballswifts13]

I dreamt about @taylorswift last night!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I was in a kind of hotel. Taylor Swift was also in that hotel so I wanted to meet her. And I finally did. I didn't think much and ran and hugged her without saying anything. Then I started to search my words trying to apologize for hugging her so suddenly. I thought about telling her I'm autistic and that's why I'm so awkward but before I do, she reassured me "it's ok". I tried to take a picture with her but my god damn phone didn't want to cooperate. It wouldn't take a picture, it's like I was pushing the button but nothing happened. I gave up. She said "oh I forgot to ask your name!" I said "Audrey" and she replied: "Your name sounds like a melody!" I thought: AWW SO CUTE. Then idk why, there was a costume party and she was dressed as a pirate. I said in French "Très belle en pirate" (you are pretty as a pirate) but I realized I told in French so I was embarrassed. Suddenly my parents were there. I said "I'm going to film this for myself then another one for her" (??) Then my parents said we have to go but I was like noooo Taylor Swift is there I can't leave now! No idea why but I walked with them to their car (it was stupid ugh). Told them goodbye then proceeded to run back to the hotel who now appeared to be miles away. I started to run and someone random tried to talk to me and I just said: "come with me" I wasn't walking anymore, I was jumping really far. I came back to the hotel and I looked for her everywhere but naturally, she was already gone. I sat on the floor and started crying. Someone asked me what's going on and I said, crying: "Taylor Swift was there, I met her but when I came back she was gone, I told her something in French that she didn't understand and I'm really embarrassed I couldn't correct myself, my phone didn't want to take a picture, and she must find me really weird now *sniffles*" The person didn't say anything. Then I noticed there was a dude acting weird and running in the hotel to find people (idk why but it was creepy) and people all tried to hide. I thought: "That must be why she left, I'm glad she did". I did a bit of running around and hiding, then I left. I fangirled hard about how she said "your name sounds like a melody" then I woke up. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ‎

[faunusrights]

OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG // CHAPTER 18

IN THIS EPISODE OF ROBLOX OOF NOISE:

“Yes.” Glynda couldn’t hang up, not without: “I’m—I’m sorry. About what I—”

“It’s alright. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay—” The feed cut. Softly, Glynda said again, “Okay.”

GLYNDA DISCOVERS WHY BEING CINDER FALL SUCKS

do u know how hard it is to wake up and play animal crossing whilst knowing this chapter looms over yr shoulder,

OKAY HERE WE GO

She was fidgety; even Cinder mentioned her pacing, shooting a critical eye her way. Glynda sat, intent on stillness; moments later, Cinder mentioned her bouncing leg.

i LOVE it when a chapter calls me out just right out of the gate hahaha who gave u the right

"Really?" How long had they been doing that? How long ago had Cinder noticed? "Should I stay?"

cinder: maybe i should tell glynda abt that /see glynda pacing a dent into the floor cinder: ooooooor i could. NOT give her an excuse to bully them for something to do,

On her way down the street, Glynda couldn't help but stare at the car, its tinted windows revealing nothing within. As she passed it, she kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting an attack or something. But nothing came of it.

HJGDFSGSDFHKGHJDF GLYNDA,,,,,,,,,,, can u imagine being in the white fang, and sittin in yr fuckin. TINTED WINDOWED like BULLETPROOF CAR and yr sat on yr ass watching out for cinder “dumbass” fall and suddenly glynda goodwitch, The Top Bitch, comes out and starts GLARING YR CAR DOWN,,, like ah. i think she knows we’re here. hrm. hm.

i would just like. drive to mcdonalds and get some nuggies at that point.

She had a clutch of flash-images and a wash of emotions and impressions, the raw materials of memory, stored as-is without refining. She was quite used to that—most of her missions were hazy and rough in her memory, mere sketches of events.

i cant wait for glynda to become a vlogger if only so she can actually have physical proof of whatever the fuck happens whenever she goes out and about. get her a go-pro.

It told her: despite her restlessness, despite the arduous journey here, and despite the way Vale seemed to call for her from somewhere beyond the horizon, she felt quite content to be where she was.

the difference having a gf has huh,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, u got a whole ass home (being cased by the fang) a real nice city to live in (its floating and atlas wants yr number) a bunch of unread msgs (from a [redacted] who [redacted]) and its a nice day!!! its all coming together. but probably not for very long,

(i got very distracted at this point making a line graph for the animal crossing stalk market so here we go, x2 edition,)

That meant the nightlife would soon begin. She had never liked crowds; too many people, too much input at once. It was hard to focus, to be comfortable.

/chefs kiss

autistic glynda did u kno: id die for u,

Since she’d blocked Ozpin’s number, there was no chance of receiving anything directly from him—but there was still a moment of pause each time she checked her Scroll, as if expecting his smiling face to appear somehow.

OH YEAH LMAO SHE DID THAT SHIT HUH,,,,,,,,,, i still cannot BELIEVE that happened. GOD. cant wait for this to bite her entire ass right off her body,

By the time she reached the top landing, Winter had replied: “I wasn’t aware that you had additional support on this mission, Professor. I will need their full name and Hunter’s license number.”

To answer Cinder Fall and she doesn’t have a license, but she does have several warrants for her arrest felt like inviting Winter to question not only her integrity, but her sanity as well.

SDHGJFKSKGHDJFGJHDKF i cant say what makes this funnier because 👈😎👈 but HOHOHOHOOOOO could u imagine the fallout if she did just, say that shit. if we just went and fuckin said it like it was no biggie--

Finally, Glynda let her shoulders relax, exhaling deeply, like she would before rushing a Grimm. She wrote it plainly: “The clearance is for Cinder Fall.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

MA’AM WHAT THE F U C K

winter rn:

She’d just have to wriggle her way out of having to talk face-to-face, then return the game to a field she felt slightly more comfortable with: text.

okay this is so funny to me cause i just keep thinking of her sending ‘no reason’ to oz. a MASTER of textual conversion. un fucking PARALLELED in this field, UNRIVALLED,

Glynda tossed a look at the door as well, her mouth pulling into a line; what if Cinder came outside? What if—

Could Winter track her exact position using her Scroll signal? She minimized the projection of Winter’s face and hurried off in a random direction the instant she hit the bottom of the stairs.

i LOVE these two because this is the first time we’ve rly seen glynda like. Actively do smthng to defend cinder in this sort of way? she’s been pretty passivve abt letting cinder take the lead when theyre together but on her own shes thinking of all the contingencies to make sure winter cant find cinder and u know what. thats gay. what will u do for yr not-gf when yr talking to someone who would kick her ass in a hot second,

also im TAKING to grab choice lines here to comment upon but honestly this next section is SO GOOD that im rly struggling to find a line to encapsulate how much i am LOVING this convo. i cant say exactly WHY im loving it because again thats 👈😎👈 BUT KNOW THAT THIS IS VERY GOOD FOOD AND I AM ENJOYING IT. and im also enjoying this line a lot

Winter’s voice was decisive: “Professor, if you hang up on me, I am flying to your location—tonight.”

winter: if y’all dont shut the fuck up back there i am turning this car, city, and continent AROUND,

It was the same thing, over and over: people didn’t understand her and she didn’t understand them. It was an exercise in futility that only gave her grief. In the end, she gave up on trying to explain herself. She resigned to being wrong, to always being wrong, even when she knew she wasn’t.

OOF OKAY WHAT THE HELL IS UP W/ THIS FIC AND CALLOUTS. HUH??? ME BITCH!!! I FEEL THAT!! AND IT SUCKS,

/reads the next bit

oh are we donning our tinfoil hats? we’re donning our tinfoil hats.

It was so easy. Glynda didn’t stumble over her words even once; didn’t waver. She was built for doing harm. Her anger burned hot and clean; it excised all the hurt like a malignant tumor.

Maybe she really had learned something from Cinder—channeling her frustration, her guilt, her pain, all of it into anger like this was something Glynda was new to. But it felt good. She leaned into it, letting it take the reins; the distressing memories vanished like wisps of smoke, vaporized by the heat of her wrath.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS god this is. SO EXCITING. i also love it when ppl rub off one one another its my FAV thing in the WORLD and this anger is. WOO. this anger is. DANDY. its also a very short-term burst of pleasure glynda so enjoy that hollowed-out whoopsie feeling that i sure get when i Blow Up,

“She butchered my friend!” Winter snarled, the camera shaking as she slapped the desk. “She butchered my friend in the streets like he was cattle! And I have done everything in my power to help you! Everything! To keep her from doing the same to you, and you’ve blown me off or lied or—” Winter’s voice snagged. “And now you tell me—you accuse me—”

It was early evening in Umbraroot, but it must already be night in Atlas. The shadows revealed the unclean angles of Winter’s face: the bruises of exhaustion under her eyes, the lines of stress at the corners of her mouth.

im sorry im just copy-pasting wholesale at this point but OH this is GOOD. i cant rly explain. like. the difference-- because you’d think from the og version this is just a bit more flavouring right? its like getting a bit of hot sauce on yr chicken wings and yr like ‘okay it adds smthng but its not like a side meal’ BUT IT IS A SIDE MEAL this is like a whole basket of fuckin. cheese-baked fries. winter DESERVES this screentime she DESERVES to have presence in this fic and OH does she USE IT im LIVINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Glynda wanted anger. She wanted fire and brimstone. She wanted a fight.

What she got was the glisten of tears on pale lashes. A hand covering Winter’s trembling mouth.

The ashy taste of remorse in her throat.

THERES THAT HOLLOWED-OUT WHOOPSIE FEELING!!!!!!!!!!!!! THERE IT IS RIGHT ON TIME. its like CLOCKWORK,

She didn’t have anything. Nothing against that. The possibility that Winter might truly care what happened to her had been so insignificantly small and easy to trample. She had forgotten about the losses Winter shouldered the moment Cinder had whispered inheritance.

it’s just like clockwork,

also this chapter feels lengthy but maybe its just cause i got distracted with animal crossing so ill have to do a wordcount check at the end

/checks

no its lengthy this is a thicc one,

“I know,” Glynda said. “I know. I know how this sounds. But she’s the only person who makes me feel like—like I make sense.” In her mind, Glynda lay in the darkness of Cinder’s bedroom, watching the glaze of streetlights along her lips as she said you.

you,,,,,,,,, we,,,,,,,,,,,, our,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, its all that gay shit,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Cinder Fall is a tremendous liar. She could convince you it is raining in Vacuo, given enough time. Two years ago, I was working on the Argus base, where I met her as a client; she told me she was a merchant seeking entrance into Atlas—she had all her documents in order, her entire persona set up, and she sold it perfectly. She was flawless—and all of it was fake. She gave me no reason to doubt her. She was—”

Winter cut herself off, abruptly. Then: “Once I was comfortable and safe, she burned down my office and murdered my friend.”

YES,,, SLOWLY THE LORE PIECES TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! winter is once bitten twice shy, but mayhaps we mean,,, once burnt,,,, twice shy,,,,,,,,,, hrmmmm,

Glynda told Winter everything.

OH MAN,,,, we’re really getting this messy fucking trio up in this bitch i am SO excited. i am THRILLED. here! we! go!!!!!!!!!! also i said it before but again im so glad winter gets to Be Here for this. sure this has nothing to do w/ her destiny or w/e but shes here now. shes in the uber. she waiting outside.

The dying potted plant Glynda had spotted last time on the back wall’s shelf had been replaced with a new one; this one’s leaves were beginning to shrivel at the ends.

dsfjhhkljsdf side note: is this like that scene in finding nemo where all the new fish see the niece and go ‘oh no we’re gonna die’ but instead its plants getting taken into winters office? they go ‘im sorry, mate, but once you go into her office, you come out TOTALLY dead,’

okay so this whole convo happened and if i try to pick one section ill end up picking it all AAAAAAAAAAAAAA im dying out here. WINTER BLEASE,,, BELIEVE THAT SOMETIMES CINDER CAN TELL A HALF-LIE. A SORTA-TRUTH. A SEMI-HEMI-DEMI HONESTY,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

How different would that mission have gone? How different would her life have been?

She found herself saying, “He had so many chances to tell me. Instead, he let me think I was reckless. That I was a danger to other people. I stopped working in teams. I didn’t have many people in my life to begin with, but afterwards was worse. He saw to it that he was all I had, and he let me think it was my fault.”

ROBLOXOOFNOISEDISTORTEDWITHDELAY.MP4

OOF!!!!!!! O O F!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! honestly OOF that shit HURTS BITCH!!!!!!! thats BANANAS. WILD. im also loving (hating???) the increase of painful glynda lore and honestly everyone feels like they have So Much More that builds them up and im THRIVING off it. im also suffering for it.

With the video feed closed, Glynda could see she had new notifications. Missed calls. From Cinder.

Glynda’s stomach lurched. She stowed her Scroll before she could think about them.

At the mouth of the alley, she could see the shape of Cinder’s apartment in the distance. She stood there for a long time, staring, uncertain what to do with her hands, unsure what to do with her heart. Her jaw flexed. She remembered the tears on Winter’s lashes. The friend she’d lost.

Glynda took her first step toward the apartment.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA and so the soft domestic shit ends. but nowhere near as explosively as id thought???????? HUH. H U H. must b because we’re gearing up for smthng honk honk honk

ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. this chap was SO good its astonishing (despite the [several] times i got distracted by animal crossing rip me). WINTER!!!!!!!! BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!! i cant believe this disaster trio is coming together. also cant wait for glynda to tell cinder the shit she just pulled. oh no,

(also the wordcount was 5,931. just in case u were curious)

[dixxio]

(!!WARNING: OFFENSIVE!!)

A QuackityHQ x CallMeCarson Crossover Fanfic Spectacular

(Quackity Shags CallMeCarson)

"I’m not always called Quackity, I’m not always a duck,

But whenever I see Carson, I’m always willing to fuck.”

Credits: Founders: LinedStorm2: (the one faggot who came up with this fucking idea) subscribe to pewdiepie T-GAY Shetookthekidsagain: (the other faggot who encouraged it) add me on Ig: @homosexual.volcano Writer: Ruhmeel/RuhRuh/The RUH (the dood who recorded and wrote most of it) Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/ruhruh Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/the.moist.ov... Twitter: https://twitter.com/BabyShaqAtk?lang=en Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ruh_meel/?h... Narrator/Artist: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Peachie: (the other one had a yoda impression) shetookthekidsagain Editors: dixxiokat/kat/katana/kataeris: (the shagger who fixed the other faggot’s fuckin mistakes) Shiyen: (Hit the chug jug hit the chug jug uh) Music Composer: Lucky: (the faggot who plays the xylophone in the background) (also the best fucking musician ever) Peons: Lunar: (the faggot who didnt do jack shit) Ayobi: (the faggot who killed our fuckin ears) random train: (the other faggot who didnt do shit) Sans: Sans Megalovania Undertale!!

Chapter 1 : An Unexpected Beginning

Carson’s Perspective

My name is Carson. Yeah, Call me Carson.

It was a lovely day in Afghanistan, my slaves were mining for diamonds in the concentration camp but with the luck that I was having they only found dirt blocks.

Later on I went to the rice field wondering how much rice I would be able to get with a single dirt block. I found a very nice man- errr he was actually a duck but nonetheless he promised he will get me a grain of rice, that’s more than I get in a year! The duck turned to me and asked for my name “Call me carson.” I said, my face was burning up from how shy I was getting. I don’t know why I felt embarrassed all of a sudden.

“Hey nigger! I’m Quackity!” the large duck replied.

”Quackity? That’s...an interesting name.” he didn’t say anything much to my comment instead he left to get me the grain of rice he talked about. Quackity came back with two grains of rice and placed them in the palm of my hand. Our hands brushed against each other, I stood there dumbfounded not sure what to do. When I finally snapped out of it he was gone already

I got home and started playing farmville on twitch, when something caught my eye in chat, a twitch link with the name of the man I met earlier that day, “The duck?”, I wondered.

In this game, I finally met “Quacking” or whatever his name was. I went up to him, but he ignored me. Probably because of all the people that surrounded him during the raid. I just heard chants repeating: “Quack my zacc and bring free trials back” and “Minecraft rules and furries deserve to be gassed”. I gave in and chanted as well. When he ended the raid, I dm’d him on twitter saying that it was fun raiding the servers in Toontown.

Shockingly, he responded! He said, “Oh yeah no problem homie! It was REALLY FUN! Especially with you there!”

“W-what? N-n-n-nani?” I stammered. “Y-you noticed me in the raid?”

“Yeah! You were crazy out there! Getting all wild and shit!”

I blushed furiously, I didn’t even think he would notice me out of all those people!

“W-wow…. Thanks….”

“No problem homie! Hey, I think you’d like to meet my friends, one of them is in the house, and one’s a wild spartan! And anoth-”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!” I exclaimed, “Don’t worry, I’ll meet them with you buddy.”

“Woah slow down there, I ain’t your buddy yet. What do I look like a faggot?” said the gay homophobe duck.

“I-I’m sorry. Gomenasai~” I muttered softly.

“Ah don’t worry about it, don’t be such a puss next time.”

“Of course sir.”

He then left me on read.

I sighed dreamily and thought to myself, “Wow, he’s such a nice guy.’

End of Chapter 1: An Unexpected Beginning

Chapter 2: Call Me Quackity

Quackity's Perspective

When I got home to my pond that day, I felt, rather strange.

I just met this guy who seemed like a fan of mine, but it felt just more than that.

It felt like, I was supposed to meet him somewhere in my life.

Anyways, I kept thinking about him the whole day

When eating THE bread, terrorizing the neighbors, gassing the jews, and even doing the dishes!

I tried so hard going to sleep, but I just kept tossing and turning.

This guy, who wanted to be called Carson, he felt…

Special…

In an autistic way.

It made me feel strange as well.

There was this tension going on between my legs, that I couldn't resist. This sensation, I've never felt it before, it's as if I enjoyed his company. It's making me blush in my sleep, but I feel as if I got something inside that I have to release…

I have to release this anger somehow, yamate quackity, yamate I imagined.

I woke up in the middle of the night, having dreams about that Carson guy. “This is so sad, Alexa play despacito.”

I knew I needed help, so I called a hotline that helps with personal issues.

It’s more of a free counselor if you think about it through the phone.

I called the number, waiting for an answer.

“Hello you have reached Aihate Gaze tech support how may i help you?” says the Gaze Man.

“Hi! I have this problem regarding this guy that I met from a raid I did, not too long ago.” I said.

“Is that guy a machine sir?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get to know him that well but he did have the spicy memes.” I responded.

“Well, I would say that you would have to check his ZIP drive, it holds all the secret information there.”

I was confused.

“Wait, what?” I said, confused.

“Yeah. All you gotta do is that you gotta hack into his windows XP computer and look for the files inside the computer by inserting the ‘USB into the tight port’.” he said.

“ALL I HAVE IS A WINDOWS 98!” shouted Quackity, while doing the floss in frustration.

“Well I believe you could find it’s USB port in the rear.” he said.

Rear? I don’t know what he means by rear, but all I know is that we have a rear in ou- oh…

I guess that means we have to stick the USB inside the ‘rear’...

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Gaze.”

“No problem, but you have to leave your credit card number with the numbers in the back alongside the Clash of Clans account name and password for free coins!! Thanos has returned and he needs it to destroy Fortn-”

I hung up before he could say anything else, and I grabbed the nearest USB I had. I knew what I had to do next.

I stuck it into my rear, just as the Gaze man requested.

“yAhOoOoOoOoO~!” I moaned loudly.

I realized I just stuck this USB drive with all my family photos and burger king foot lettuce pictures up my booty hole.

I didn’t care however, all that was on my mind was HIM.

Carson... oh Carson.

“Call me Carson~,” I imagined him saying.

“No Carson, Call me QUACKTITY.” I responded.

I pushed the USB drive further into the bunghole, until it disappeared into the void.

I’ve done it.

My family photos, my burger king foot lettuce pics, my minecraft skins, all of them, are now inside me.

All for this one guy.

I felt it in my stomach, and shockingly enough, I could see it through the bump shaped like a USB shown on my skin.

I touched it, it hurted, but I grabbed it even tighter, and moved it even higher into my stomach!

“Carson, CARSON, CAAAAAAAAAAARSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!! ORE WA OCHINCHIN GA DAISUKI NANDAYO~~!!!!!!”

I moved it up towards my hard nips, then upward to my chest, then my throat, then finally, through the mouth.

I regurgitated the USB that I stuck through my asshole.

That brown, smelly, shit-covered, saliva covered, stomach acid covered USB drive.

All for that one guy I met at a raid.

Thank you Mr. Gaze…

Thank you...

End Of Chapter 2: Call Me Quackity

[pingo1387]

A Little Bit Different

Zoro doesn’t see the world quite like most others do, but that’s okay. Autistic Zoro fic for @caffeinelemur. Happy bday!! 

FFN / AO3 

Usopp scratched his head, tapped his pen on the ground, and sighed, staring in frustration at the paper in front of him. He wrote something down and then crossed it out.

“Something wrong?” Zoro asked. He didn’t even open his eyes, still keeping the appearance of sleeping against the railing.

“Well, yeah, but nothing you can help with,” Usopp muttered.

“Why not?”

“It’s math.”

“Try me.” Zoro opened his eyes and sat up, watching Usopp expectantly.

Usopp squinted. “Okay. So, I’m trying to figure out how many projectiles I can possibly fire in an hour. Because I’m assuming any given battle won’t last more than an hour, so if I figure that out, I can save space in my bag by packing less ammunition. Though, I might pack more anyway, just to be safe.”

“Right.”

“I know I can fire about forty of them in thirty seconds, give or take,” Usopp continued. “And I forget where to go from here. I’m trying to add but I keep making mistakes.”

Zoro was silent for a moment, staring into space. Usopp rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I figured you couldn’t help. I’ll just keep trying and—”

“Four thousand and eight hundred.”

Usopp paused. “Huh?”

“Right?” Zoro said, frowning. “Did I get it wrong?”

“I dunno, that seems like a lot,” Usopp said, skeptical about Zoro’s apparently random answer. “Hey, Robin!”

Robin came up the stairs. “You called?”

Usopp explained the problem. Robin stared pensively at the paper, studying the numbers and tracing them.

“That’s four thousand and eight hundred,” she said at last. “Though, I don’t think you’ll need that many. You won’t be firing them non-stop for a full hour, will you?”

“Good point,” Usopp said sheepishly. “But, Zoro, you got that so fast!”

Zoro furrowed his brow. “That was the answer. I just saw it. Was that fast?”

“It was really cool,” Usopp said to Robin in excitement. “I asked him and he said what you said, like, right away!”

“Impressive,” Robin agreed, smiling at Zoro. “I didn’t know you were so savvy.”

“What, you guys didn’t know the answer?” Zoro said, surprised.

“Don’t be rude!” Usopp exclaimed.

“I’m not!”

“Luffy—!”

Zoro slowed to a stop, glowering after Luffy, who had stolen his bandana while he was sleeping in order to play capture the flag with Usopp, Chopper, and Franky. He returned to his spot on the deck, but was unable to return to sleep, fidgeting and feeling the spot where his bandana should be.

“Something wrong?” Robin asked, having come up to the deck to water her plants. “Is your bandana missing?”

Zoro didn’t look at her, taking a moment to respond. “Luffy took it.”

Robin set down her watering can and left. She found Usopp desperately trying to explain the rules of the game to Luffy while Chopper and Franky waited.

“Guys,” she said. They looked over. “Zoro wants his bandana back.”

“But we need a flag,” Luffy protested.

“It’s just for a little bit,” Chopper added.

“He feels uncomfortable without it,” Robin explained. “Luffy, what if someone else took your hat for something like this? Or yours, Chopper?”

They frowned. “I wouldn’t like that,” Luffy agreed. Chopper nodded.

Robin held out her hand, and Luffy handed over the bandana.

“I’ll get you a new flag in a minute,” she promised. “In the meantime, learn the rules.”

“Right, Luffy, as I was saying,” Usopp continued.

Zoro stared at the bandana deposited into his lap. He looked up at Robin and then back down, muttering, “Thanks,” before brushing it off and retying it around his arm. He fell back asleep in no time.

“Breakfast?” Zoro asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“Pain perdu,” Sanji replied, just getting his apron on. Zoro nodded and left, walking past Luffy, who was wide awake and ready to eat.

When the crew trickled in for food, Zoro stared at the pancakes and scrambled eggs on his plate as if waiting for them to turn into pain perdu. When they didn’t, he looked up at Sanji and glowered.

“What?” Sanji said. “Oh, right. Sorry, everyone, we were going to have pain perdu, but someone ate the last of the bread last night.”

He turned a pointed glare to Luffy, who shrugged. “Well, I was hungry, and what’m I supposed to do if the fridge is locked?”

“Ask me, dipshit!”

“You were sleeping! That would’ve been rude.”

“Since when do you care about manners?!”

The others had started on their food already. Zoro didn’t start until Luffy and Sanji had finished arguing, and even then he ate very slowly.

When Zoro finally came out to the deck for his after-breakfast nap, he found his usual spot taken by Usopp, who had sat down to tinker. He stood stock-still, staring at the spot, and was just about to move when Usopp saw him.

“Oh, shoot, this is your spot, isn’t it?” he exclaimed, standing. “Sorry, go on—”

Zoro looked away and left without a word.

“Well, geez, I was trying to be nice,” Usopp muttered, confused.

Zoro took his nap on the other side of the ship eventually, though it was a restless one. He woke up, ready to start training, and was on his way to the observatory when Franky interrupted him.

“Hey, bro,” he said with a grin. “You seen Usopp?”

Zoro pointed to Usopp.

“Oh, thanks!” Franky playfully drummed his fingers across Zoro’s shoulders and left, waving. “See you!”

Zoro was rooted to the spot, shuddering, before he managed to start moving again to get to the ropes.

He breathed slowly at the top, removed his shirt, and began training. But he hadn’t even finished his first rep when panicked shouts below alerted him of an approaching pirate ship—it was time to fight.

He set his weight down and pulled his shirt back on, too frazzled to fix it so it faced forward, and tied his bandana around his head, stumbling out of the room and down to the deck. The others were already fighting, and he joined them, his movements purely muscle memory.

“Zoro, help!”

He turned towards the sound and found Usopp cowering under a joint attack. With a slash, that was taken care of.

“Moss-hair, go help Nami-san!”

Zoro looked around, vision blurring, and spotted an orange head of hair. He ran over, but stumbled to a halt when Nami’s attackers were wiped out by her thunderbolt.

“I don’t need help, Sanji-kun!” she yelled, too close to Zoro’s face. Sanji cried an apology to her while Zoro swung his head around, searching for what to do next.

He had only just sliced down another enemy trying to board the ship when the enemy captain called for their ship to retreat. The conscious crew gathered their less-fortunate friends and headed off.

The Strawhats cheered all around Zoro as he stared into the distance, vision blurred, sheathing his swords and tying his bandana around his arm again. His hands shook; everything was too bright, and everyone’s voices were indistinct and far too loud, surrounding him on all sides, leaving no escape. His backwards shirt rested over his haramaki and brushed his skin in all the wrong ways. His eyelids fluttered as he blinked slowly. He needed to . . . needed to . . .

The voices became quieter, and blurry hands waved in front of his face, making him shut his eyes in pain. His legs wobbled, but someone took his hand in their large one, holding on firmly and slowly turning it to face him another way. He blindly followed, slowing when the hand moved downwards, indicating stairs.

He heard rhythmic splashing, and could barely see in the dim light of the room they were in.

“. . . Zoro? Squeeze my hand if you hear me.”

It took him a moment to respond, but he clenched his hand inside his companion’s. He recognized the voice as Chopper.

“Do you want to stay here? Squeeze if yes.”

He paused and squeezed.

“Alone? Squeeze if yes.”

Another pause, another clench.

“Want help sitting down? Squeeze if yes.”

Silence.

“Okay.” Chopper released his hand slowly. “If you’re not back up already, someone’s gonna come down here and tell you when dinner’s ready. Okay?”

Zoro managed a tiny nod.

“Anything else?”

A small shake.

“Okay. Bye.”

Chopper left. Zoro lowered himself against the wall and wrestled with his arms, fixing his shirt. As soon as he’d finished, he collapsed, falling into a light sleep while the waves splashed.

Zoro didn’t speak for the rest of the day, but he exited the Mini-Merry Docking Room for dinner, and went to sleep in the men’s quarters with everyone, who made sure to keep their voices down for his sake.

Zoro tapped the uchiko ball along the blade of his sword and wiped the powder away with a cloth. Satisfied, he slid it back into his sheath and put away his cleaning supplies, standing to stow the case in his locker.

“I’m sure I’ve said this before, Zoro-san, but those are marvelous blades you have,” Brook remarked, falling into step with him.

“I know,” Zoro said, smiling. “I rely on them as much as I do you guys.”

“May I ask about them?”

“Yeah,” Zoro said, stopping outside the door to the men’s quarters. “This one was my first real sword. The person who gave it to me inspired me to learn the three-sword style, since before I received this I used the two-sword style, and I wanted to use this one as well. It’s my oldest and dearest sword. The ones I used before these two I received at the dojo I grew up in, but they broke when I fought Hawk-Eye.”

Brook leaned against the cabin wall, listening without ears.

“This one is called Kitetsu, technically Kitetsu III,” Zoro continued, smiling, “and I got this one in a test of luck. It’s a cursed sword, but it didn’t cut my arm off when I challenged it, so it’s mine now. The shopkeeper who gave me this also gave me Yubashiri, but that one broke at Enies Lobby thanks to a rusting ability one of the Marines had. After that I got Shusui from that zombie, Ryuma.” He paused for breath. “The three-sword style I developed by—”

The door opened, bumping into him and startling him out of his rambling. Sanji gave him an eye-roll before going to the kitchen.

“So . . . that’s it,” he finished, train of thought broken, and went inside.

The Marine pushed Sanji face-first up against the alley wall. “Blackleg Sanji, is it? Your eyebrow gives you away, you know.”

“Watch the face, please, ma’am,” Sanji said, unable to fight back.

“You’re under arrest for aiding and abetting,” she said as Zoro walked by the alley and stopped, looking at them, “as well as participating in various—”

She looked at Zoro and paled, releasing Sanji. “Uh, changed my mind,” she said, backing up. “You’re free to go.”

She ran away.

“Guess your face scared her off,” Sanji remarked, dusting himself off.

“Hey!” Zoro called after her. “Weren’t you gonna arrest him?”

Sanji kicked his calf. “Don’t fucking taunt her!”

“What? I was just asking.”

“This never happened,” Sanji said as they started heading away.

“Huh?” Sanji glared at him. “Oh. Right.”

“Learn to read a situation,” Sanji snapped. “Honestly, you—”

He stopped and looked back. Zoro had fallen behind, examining a market stall of trinkets.

“And quit wandering off!”

“Hey!”

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the person in the jail cell with him. They were a short redhead with glasses, and they stared at him expectantly.

“What?” he said when they didn’t continue.

“What’d you get arrested for?”

“Being a pirate.”

“Oh. I got arrested for homicide.” The person stared at Zoro’s swords, which the soldiers had foolishly left with him. “Hey, you’re that pirate hunter, Roronoa Zoro, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re really good with those swords, then?” the person said, voice growing high with excitement. “Can you break us out?”

“Sure.”

The person waited. “So . . . are you going to?”

“Yeah. I was just resting.”

Zoro stood and faced the wall, preparing two swords.

“Hey!” the person exclaimed. “I have a bad sense of direction, too, but even I know the bars are over here!”

“Breaking the wall gets us out faster,” Zoro pointed out, cutting the wall open without another word.

“I guess, but . . .” The person approached the hole and stared down. “It’s a long way down . . .”

Zoro grabbed them around the waist and ignored the scream as he leapt from the building. He set them on the ground and wandered away.

“One hundred . . . one hundred one . . . one hundred two . . .”

“Hey, Zoro,” Luffy said, poking his head through the trapdoor. “Lunch! Sanji told me to come get you.”

“One hundred three . . . one hundred four . . .” Zoro didn’t look away from his weighted lunges.

Luffy frowned and disappeared. A minute later Franky showed up.

“One hundred eleven . . . one hundred twelve . . .” Zoro muttered.

“Hey!” Franky yelled. “Lunchtime!”

“One hundred thirteen . . . one hundred fourteen . . .”

Franky shook his head and left. It was Nami who showed up next.

“Zoro, get your butt down here or I’m charging you for every minute you’re late,” she snapped.

“One hundred twenty . . . one hundred twenty one . . .”

She climbed up into the crow’s nest and smacked the back of his head. He froze and turned to her, shocked.

“What?” he snapped.

“Lunch. Is ready,” she hissed. “It’s been ready.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

He toweled himself off and left, leaving Nami to stare after him, mouth agape.

Franky, knowing Zoro wasn’t asleep, sat next to him on the deck. “Hey, bro. Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.” Zoro didn’t open his eyes, keeping his arms folded firmly against his chest.

“I messed up. I ruined one of her maps.”

“Nami’s?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t finished, she’d hung it out to dry, and I was holding cola and I went to look at it and . . . tripped.”

“You spilled cola on her map?”

“Yeah. She grabbed it and stormed away. What do you think I should do?”

Zoro was silent for so long Franky worried he’d really fallen asleep, but then he spoke.

“If you messed up one of my swords somehow, and went to ask someone what to do while I tried to deal with the situation,” he said slowly, “I’d probably be pretty pissed if you didn’t even apologize.”

“What?” Franky said. “We’re not talking about you.”

“I know. I’m trying to make sense of the situation.” Zoro lifted his face to the sky but didn’t open his eyes. “Go say sorry to her.”

“Okay. What next?”

“Oh. Uh . . . I guess offer to help her or get new materials at some point. Let the cat out of the bag.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Let the cat out of the bag? What do you mean?”

“It means use every tactic you have on hand. In this case, do whatever you can to apologize and make it up to her.”

“But that’s not what that . . . never mind. Got it. Thanks!” Franky grinned and stood. “You’ve got a weird way of going about things, but it works.���

Zoro opened his eyes as Franky walked away.

“Weird?”

“What’s wrong?” Sanji asked.

Zoro’s face had only scrunched in disgust for a moment at the taste of his snack, so he was surprised that Sanji had caught it. “Uh . . . it’s sweet,” he said.

“Really? I thought it was plain enough. You want something else?”

“Dunno. You have anything else?”

“Bit of leftover ham,” Sanji said, taking the plate away. “I need most of it for the stew tonight, but if you want some of that . . . ?”

“Sounds good.”

Zoro rubbed his temples, wandering towards Chopper’s office. He opened the door and stared at Chopper until Chopper looked up. Zoro spread his arms out. Chopper trotted outside, bit down on a Rumble Ball, and transformed into Guard Point. Zoro fell against him, closing his eyes and rubbing his fur. Luffy found them and joined them for a minute before getting bored and heading away.

When Chopper turned back, Zoro hugged him before heading away to nap.

Zoro, worn-out from a stressful day, leaned against the railing but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Chopper came upon him and Zoro looked up at him hopefully. Chopper turned big and grabbed Zoro, squeezing him in his lap. Zoro fell asleep in minutes.

“Zoro helped me with some calculations today,” Robin said at dinner, smiling at him. “You were very helpful. Thank you.”

“Well, since you helped Robin-chan,” Sanji said, setting an extra glass of booze in front of Zoro, who nodded and took it without a word. “Need anything else?”

He shook his head and started drinking his glass down. Luffy tugged at his bandana, but a look made him stop. Zoro fixed it and went back to drinking.

“Thanks for sharing your napping spot with me, Zoro,” Chopper said, waving his arms.

“I never knew you knew so much about your swords,” Usopp said, shaking his head. “You talked my ear off!”

Zoro stared in alarm at his ears.

“It’s a figure of speech,” Usopp added. Zoro relaxed.

“Surprised we could get you away from your training for dinner,” Franky said with a laugh. Zoro shrugged.

“Seconds, Sanji-san?” Brook said, holding out his plate in front of Zoro’s face. Zoro closed his eyes and moved back. “Ah, forgive me, Zoro-san.” Brook moved his arm out of the way. Zoro opened his eyes and slowly moved forward again.

“Zoro, we’re gonna have a party tonight,” Luffy announced, bouncing in his seat. “You gonna come or you gonna sleep?”

Zoro shrugged and gave him a thumbs-up. Luffy grinned. “Awesome!”

“Try not to hog all the alcohol,” Nami shot at him. Zoro made a point of rolling his eyes at her before returning to his dinner, carefully prepared without a hint of sweetness.

[keepmewithyourwords]

Documentary evidence submitted during the trial of Michael Walker. Date: Wed, 04 Apr 2012 04:44 PM From: michaelwalker1260@pimail.com To: yuki_yamamoto@suuji.co.jp Subject: Reading By Numbers 1 – I met your mother in a number garden in Hokkaido. 2 – When I was 5830 days old I saw a news report about Professor Sujimoto. He had made a virtual number garden for his students. 3 – I vowed I would study in Japan and started learning Japanese. 4 – I was accepted into the University of Sapporo and enrolled in their math department. Professor Sujimoto’s fame had increased after he had discovered what was, at the time, the largest prime number ever found. 5 – Sujimoto conducted all of his lectures online in a VR environment he had created himself. 6 – When I logged in, I was presented with a menu that allowed me to create an avatar to represent myself. I chose the symbol for pi. 7 – An oak tree stood in the center of the garden. It reached unending into the sky and its trunk was alive with an army of marching ants, each of them carrying a glowing neon digit. Together they formed the prime number Sujimoto had discovered — a number more than 42 million digits long. 8 – Twenty-three other students attended that lecture. Their avatars took the forms of anime characters, kawaii cats and other fantastic creatures. Sujimoto’s avatar was reminiscent of a monk — wearing brown robes and conical hat. 9 – A text bubble appeared in the air beside the monk. “Welcome to this year’s first class on number theory.” 10 – “Numbers have a purity that words cannot match.” 11 – “They are the building blocks of science. By studying them we can learn about ourselves and our place in the universe. I have created this garden to give you a chance to explore the world of numbers and their hidden beauty.” 12 – He pointed to the garden beds where different colored numbers grew. “There are transcendental numbers, abundant numbers, undulating numbers, pandigital numbers, deficient numbers, surreal numbers, happy numbers, weird numbers and my personal favorites, the 13 – vampire 14 – numbers.” A bed of numbers erupted from the ground in front of Sujimoto. It contained the numbers from 1 to 1000 arranged in orderly rows. The numbers were purple and had pale, green stems. “I want you to pick one integer. This is going to be your special number for the year. Then explore the garden.” 15 – The student avatars crowded around the purple numbers and started plucking them. I wanted to choose 3, 7, 22 or 227 because they are used when estimating pi, but some other students must have had the same idea. I chose 220 instead. 16 – I wandered past a garden of hyperreal numbers and came to a numberfall. A torrent of digits cascaded down shiny, black rocks and emptied into a gleaming, blue lake. I queried the VR interface and discovered the numberfall was displaying part of the infinite sequence of digits that makes up pi. I waded through the water until I stood underneath the numberfall. The digits crashed all about me. I was submerged in infinity. 17 – A unicorn splashed into the lake. It had the purple number 284 wrapped around its horn. When the unicorn saw the number stuck to my side, it started bouncing up and down in excitement. Someone was pressing the jump key too often. 18 – “Look at our numbers!!! We have to be friends. It’s fate!!!” 19 – That was how I met 20 – your mother. 21 – It took me a moment to grasp the significance of what she was saying. 220 and 284 are the smallest pair of amicable numbers. The sum of the proper divisors of 220 (1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 20, 22, 44, 55, 110) is 284. The sum of the proper divisors of 284 (1, 2, 4, 71, 142) is 220. The numbers are bound together. 22 – Your mother decided we were meant to be together. I had only just arrived in Japan and I didn’t have any friends. So I was happy to meet her after class. 23 – She was also interested in codes and sent me emails with hidden messages. A message with (32) at the end meant I had to read every thirty-second line to find the meaning. 24 – We fell in love. 25 – The next four years were the happiest of my life. I specialized in the process of random number generation. Computers usually only generate pseudorandom numbers. Deterministic algorithms can be recreated, so the numbers aren’t truly random. Eventually a pattern will emerge. To get true random numbers, computers have to rely on external sources, such as devices to measure atmospheric noise. 26 – We got married after we graduated. Some of my friends in Australia warned me about the difficulties of intercultural relationships. I thought our love for numbers would help us bypass that. 27 – Cultural differences sometimes even extend to numbers. In western countries we count in thousands, but in Japan they count in ten thousands. 20,000 is not 20 thousands, it is 2 ten thousands. I also learned other numbers have been polluted by superstition. 28 – The end came when I saw a documentary about an autistic savant who could perform astonishing feats of calculation and memory. He recited pi from memory to 22,514 digits. I could not do this. 29 – He said that in his mind numbers have different shapes and colors. I could not see this. The numbers I loved had 30 – betrayed me. 31 – They had shown themselves to others, but not to me. 32 – Kaori told me she was pregnant. 33 – At the time it was an unexpected and unwelcome 34 – addition. 35 – 1 + 1 should not equal 3. 36 – Your grandmother said we had to go to a 37 – fortune teller 38 – to help us choose your name. 39 – A fortune teller had chosen your mother’s name by selecting a kanji with a lucky number of strokes. 40 – Your grandmother poisoned your mother’s thinking with superstition. 41 – We argued. 42 – Then 43 – your grandmother 44 – became ill and was admitted to hospital. 45 – When I arrived at the hospital, 46 – she was asleep. 47 – Kaori sat by her bedside. 48 – She looked pale and tired. 49 – I had brought some flowers, 50 – so I 51 – put them on the table by the bed. 52 – Kaori stared at the flowers. “What are those?” she demanded. 53 – “I bought some flowers for your mother.” 54 – “They’re chrysanthemums!” 55 – The old woman stirred in her sleep. 56 – “What’s the matter? I thought your mother would appreciate them. They are Japan’s national flower.” 57 – “You never give chrysanthemums to someone in hospital! They’re only for funerals.” 58 – “How was I supposed to know that?” 59 – I picked up the flowers. “I will get rid of them. There’s no need to get upset. You’re acting like I 60 – killed 61 – her.” 62 – “That’s because you bought four of them! 63 – I’ve told you before, four is an unlucky number in Japan. 64 – It sounds like death. 65 – You want my mother to die, don’t you! You’ve always hated her.” 66 – “What are you talking about? That’s crazy.” 67 – “Then why did you bring her four chrysanthemums?” 68 – “The shop only had four left,” I replied. “They’re just flowers.” I threw the flowers in the bin. 69 – “I was only trying to help 70 – her.” 71 – Kaori stared at me for a long time. Then she reached into her handbag and took out her ATM card. 72 – “What about this?” She flung the card at me. “You changed the PIN on my card yesterday, didn’t you? I had to go into the bank to find out what the new number was. And you know what the new number was, don’t you? 1260!” 73 – “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. 74 – “1260 is a vampire number,” Kaori said. 75 – “I don’t know anything about that. The bank must have given you a new number for some reason. It was probably just chosen randomly.” 76 – “Don’t lie to me, Michael! I know all about your so-called random numbers! You chose that because you want to frighten me.” 77 – “Please calm down. Your mother isn’t well, and you’re pregnant. You’re very emotional.” 78 – “I don’t love you any more, Michael.” 79 – “That’s not true.” 80 – “You need to get help.” 81 – In case your mother has neglected your education I should explain about vampire numbers. They are numbers with an even number of digits that can be equally divided into two so-called fangs. These fangs are factors of the number and contain all of the digits of the original number. 82 – 1260’s fangs are 21 and 60 (21×60=1260). 83 – Your grandmother died that night. 84 – Kaori divorced me. 85 – Now, I sit in my small room and think about my mistakes. I thought numbers had betrayed me. But now I know it was not their fault. 86 – They are always true. It is superstitious people that sully the perfection of numbers. 87 – If someone tells you they love you, how do you prove it’s true? Even if it is true, how do you know it will be true tomorrow? 88 – Numbers are eternally perfect. The square root of 100 will always equal 10. 89 – Japanese law doesn’t recognize the custody rights of foreign parents. I have never even met you. But that will change one day soon. 90 – I will come for you and your mother. 91 – I have begun to make my own simple number garden. 92 – I have marked the walls with some of my favorite numbers. 93 – 220. 94 – 284. 95 – 1260. 96 – Sometimes numbers grow into things they shouldn’t. 97 – I am watching these numbers closely. One day they will grow into something very special. 98 – My health has been poor. To help me relax I perform simple integer divisions. 99 – But I am very careful about what numbers I choose to divide. 100 – I am always happier when there is no remainder. (10)

Reading by Numbers by AIDAN DOYLE

[the-record-columns]

June 14, 2017: Columns

Patience...

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

As noted many times in this space,one of my favorite people in the whole world was the legendary attorney and judge, the late Max Ferree.

 In one column, I admitted to having stolen stories from him for years, and, as his reply, he wrote me a beautiful letter which was vintage Max. In it, he acknowledged my sins, forgave me, then, as only Max could, admonished me to at least “Get them right from now on.” To that end, he mailed me a three pound packet of stories which I have dutifully used off and on for years, and faithfully given credit to Max.

 What follows is, to me, the one most special.

 In the year 1899, a young daughter was born to Sarah and William Max Ferree in the south mountains of Burke County. She was the fourth child born to Sarah, the other three being named Arthur, Lola, and Mabel. The Ferrees' named this child Patience, perhaps because Sarah died soon after the birth. This child was the pet of the family, even though William Max married Louise Morrison later on, who gave birth to H. Clay Ferree, the new baby of the family.

 William Max Ferree was a south mountaineer, who had a small “jot 'em down” store which probably measured no more than 20' x 35'. He had counters and shelves in there together with a big pot-bellied stove. It was a gathering place for south mountaineers—a combination of saw millers, red clay farmers, and whiskey manufacturers on the creeks and branches that left the south mountains of Burke on the way to the Catawba River.

 William Max was really proud of a new addition in his store, the same consisting of a paper cutter and a twine yarn holder. Afterward, every package sold there that needed to be wrapped in paper could be, with just the right amount cut with a cleaver off of a big roll. He figured that the combination paid for itself with a little extra charge on the dry goods he sold. One day in 1914, much to his consternation, he found that somebody had whacked off a bunch of paper on the rotary and messed up some string, allegedly in an effort to wrap something. He made inquiry of his entire family but all stood mute as to who has wasted loads of wrapping paper, which he sensed knocked the profit off quite a number of sales. Later on at Christmas, presents were being unwrapped and there for him was a package wrapped in such a fashion that he knew that the giver must of same must have been the culprit, who had messed up his string and wrapping paper earlier. William Max vamped a little bit and started taking the paper off the box and ream after ream came off.

 As it did, he became angrier and he bellowed out, “You mean you used all of that wrapping paper, just to wrap this box?” He opened the box and it was empty. That added more fury. “You used all that just to give me nothing?” Then little Patience said, “But Daddy, what I gave you was all my kisses—I blew them all into the box, so it really took a big box to hold them and took a lot of wrapping paper. William Max held it up, hugged her, and took the box and left the room with tears in his eyes. Patience died during the flu epidemic of 1918-1919, Above all others, William Max took it the hardest.

 In 1932 the old man passed on and left a Holographic Will, wherein he gave his old red clay farm to his wife Louise for life, the remainder over to his four children, H. Clay, Arthur, Mabel, and Lola. In his hand written will, William Max added this: “There is a box wrapped in paper and string on the upper shelf of our store back in the corner. Place this box in my coffin, because I've told Patience that I would bring the box to her when I came and I want to keep my promise and bring that box full of kisses, so that we might have it, God willing, through eternity.” Signed in the presence of God this the 4th day of March, 1919, by William Max Ferree – (Seal.)

  To those interested, William Max's mandate was carried out and the box was placed in the home-made white oak casket, the interior of which was lined with worn blankets, the lower body covered with an old quilt. But the big box with all of the wrapping paper on it was placed across William Max's chest so that he might deliver it in person to Patience.

 Max Ferree was born in 1924 to H. Clay and Hattie Poteat Ferree in Burke County, NC.

 Quieting your brain

By LAURA WELBORN

Jancee Dunn asked the question “Can modern day multi-taskers really learn to quiet their minds?”.  I for one have a hard time getting to quiet, I tend to have the TV on for no other purpose but noise as I talk on the phone or check my social media.    

I personally had to train myself on another form of meditation- mindfulness. I found the following great strategies to get mindful.  First I realized all you need to do is pay attention to your inner and outer experience in the present moment, without judgment. Ideally, you get mindful in a quiet spot- walking, sitting at your desk or even standing in line.  It’s more important to be away from engaging distraction, such as your computer than it is for your space to be dead silent. Close your eyes or not, and settle your attention on the feeling of the normal, natural breath, where ever its most clear to you- the nostrils, chest or abdomen  See if you can feel one breathe fully, then the next breath.   Dunn states that it is hard for her to clear her mind of wandering but when you find your mind wandering the experts says to notice the thoughts and then just let them go.  

Here is the beginning steps to getting focused or centered:.

Minute 1; breathe deeply shutting your eyes can help you focus on the inner workings of your body while leaving them open strengthens your ability to stay serene amid external distractions.  Inhale for a count of four and exhale for a count of six.

Minute 2:  find your natural pace

Stop counting and allow your breathing to fall into an easy rhythm. Pay attention to what your breaths feel like- not overly deep or shallow and compare that with your usual cadence. Tune in to the rising and falling sensation in your body from your belly to your shoulders.

Minute 3:  stay focused. Continue to be aware of your breathing. If random thoughts (work deadlines etc.) pops into your head don't push them out or linger on them.  Instead imagine each one as a harmless floating cloud.  This visualization technique helps you acknowledge your worries without responding to the emotionally.  If a thought still doesn't drift away from your mind, jot it down on a note pad and turn back to your mediation.

Minute 4:  relax Release your focus on your breathing and simply be.  Remind yourself that there is nothing to do, fix or change.

Minute 5:  give thanks. Think about something that you’re grateful for, such as spending time with friends or having the chance to mediate. Then gradually transition your thoughts to how you feel:  the relaxed stat and your heartbeat.  Open your eyes stand up and start your day- cool calm and collected.

Research is showing us that mediating can actually form new and permanent neural connections in the brain.  "Mediation trains your mind to focus on the moment instead of worrying about what occurred in the past or what could happen in the future"  Janet Nima Taylor the author of Mediation for non mediators.

Recognizing value in every life

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

 Autism spectrum is a developmental disorder with a range or “spectrum” of differing skill and disability levels. Affected people have social problems—difficulty communicating and interacting with others, and controlling their emotions. Autism has carried a stigma in Israel where, until 2014, schools often expelled students for misbehavior due to a lack of special-education guidelines. Autism also excludes young Israelis from military service, hindering their integration into society and prospects for future employment.

But that’s changing. Israel is pursuing research, treatment and rehabilitation, and addressing the need to broaden social services and housing for about 8,000 people with autism. One of its most stunning breakthroughs is the Israeli Defense Force’s recruitment of autistic soldiers for its Satellite Intelligence Unit. The soldiers spend hours scouring complex satellite images for incremental changes that indicate suspicious objects or movements. The young encoders’ extraordinary visual recall and attention to detail have saved lives.

Created in 2012 by former Mossad Director Tamir Pardo, the program, dubbed “Seeing Beyond,” harnesses the unique brilliance of the autistic mind. About one in three people with autism combine cognitive and social challenges with “profound” skills that psychiatrist Darold Treffert calls “islands of genius.” Autistic “savants” are geniuses in music, the arts, math or memory—like the IDF soldiers in the visual intelligence unit. These soldiers also learn life skills, like using public transportation, to help them overcome social and communication challenges. Other interventions benefit and nurture lower-performing children and adults with autism spectrum. Perhaps Israel’s growing experience can help build bridges with the Palestinians.

A Tradition of Humanitarian Aid

Israel has long helped its Arab neighbors, even enemy combatants, with humanitarian medical aid. In Gaza, “there are no resources, no services, nothing for [autism sufferers],” said Palestinian researcher Mohammed Habash. In the West Bank, stigma and discrimination, poor education and social services, and war compound the problem, said Professor Sarah Dababnah. Local schools turn affected children away, so they stay at home. Families struggle with inaccurate diagnoses from untrained doctors, and no statutory social services or financial support exists. Nonprofits and a few dedicated advocates struggle to fill the vacuum, she said. Parents face emotional distress, with mothers often blamed for their child’s disability. Lacking early intervention, affected children grow up unable to communicate, use the toilet or feed themselves. Many try to hurt themselves or throw destructive tantrums. According to Habash, about 15 percent of parents think autism is a result of war between the Palestinians and Israel. Others blame watching TV, or simply have no understanding what’s wrong with their child.

Recently, Lifegate, an EU-funded, West Bank nonprofit, participated in an autism conference at Ziv Medical Center. Lifegate Director Burghard Schunkert called the cooperation with Israeli doctors, therapists and institutions “very heartening.” It’s important to keep up with the latest research, he said. “That’s why we’re here.”

See beyond the barriers

But while shared research and resources are vital, there’s a thornier issue at stake. The IDF autistic soldiers’ unit is unique because of the mindset behind it—the value Israel places on human life, and its corresponding desire to see people reach their full potential.

But in the Palestinian territories, people are expendable—an attitude influenced by the officially sanctioned mindset of glorifying and inciting death by martyrdom or terrorism. That’s why parents don’t quibble when their children are taught, not to excel and prosper, but to stab and kill Israelis. Muslim reformer Islam al-Behery says a “change of heart” is the key to successfully bring Palestinians and other radical Islamists into the 21st century. If the Palestinians could see value in every life, perhaps they would spend less money supporting terrorism and invest in strengthening the most vulnerable of their own. Surely their hope and future would become better. This humanitarian need is another opportunity for Israel to be a model to its neighbors—by sharing knowledge and resources to enhance the quality of life. Israel is indeed changing the world for the better yet for this they receive little recognition and very little appreciation.

Brighten your day.

A Full Moon On the Island and Amy’s Stories

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

It was to be a full moon night when I arrived on the Island, I had checked into The Cove Bed and Breakfast, as is my normal habit when researching for another Island story.

Sharon is the Inn Keeper and has a good feel for everything happening on Ocracoke. I ask if there were anything interesting going on that night and see said, well Amy is doing the Ghost Tour that blends in a lot of the Island history. An historic ghost tour on a full moon night sounded perfect. Sharon made the call and I was added to the list.

The tour was conducted by ninth generation Ocracoke resident Amy Howard who has been a tour guide for more than 12 years.

There was a good number of people who showed up for the tour which started at 7:15pm. We were all warmly greeted on Howard Street and provided with a selection of mosquito repellent for which we were all grateful.

The tour was full of history that spanned from the settlement of the Island, War time, a variety of colorful personalities and of course stories of the unexplained.

We learned that dreams were taken seriously on the island. A dream of death or disaster concerned everyone. One such dream was had by Fannie Pearl MacWilliams. Born in 1894 she was the daughter of Department store owners John and Elizabeth MacWilliams. The family lived in a large Victorian home not far from the Ocracoke

Lighthouse. This was also a time when traveling from one side of the island to the other was not easy.

When Fannie Pearl was 16 she was a student of and Robert Stanley Wahab, who had returned to the island after going away for higher education. Stanley was only six years her senior and it was not long before they found themselves attracted to each other.

Fannie Peal was an accomplished student and her further education was supported by her parents who decided to send her to a boarding school off the island. When Stanley learned that his sweetheart would be leaving the island he sought employment in the Norfolk area so that he could be near Fannie Pearl. There love continued to grow and they were soon married. Not long after at the age of 18 Fannie Pearl discovered she was with child.

In 1912 the custom of the day was for expecting women to not be seen in public, so Fannie Pearl returned to the Island to stay with Martha Ann Wahab, her mother in law. Stanley continued to work in Norfolk and he sent money to his wife on a regular schedule.

At breakfast on one fall morning Martha Ann noticed that Fannie Pearl seemed sad, however she was unwilling to talk about the reason for her uncommon despair. It as later in the day that Fannie Pearl shared with her mother in law that she had a dreadful dream, in which she had died.  She said that her spirt hovered over her own lifeless body that had been dressed in a solid white dress and placed in a white silk lined white casket.

The casket was then placed on a freshly white painted sailing skiff. On calm waters a silvery white moon suddenly rose against the distant live oaks on the far horizon.

Naturally Martha Ann tried to comfort Fannie Pearl, however it was not easy. The next morning Martha Ann called for upstairs for Fannie Pearl to come down for breakfast, there was no response. She called again and still no response, with concern she took the stairs and opened the door to reveal the lifeless body of Fannie Pearl.

Stanley was notified as soon as possible, he responded with a request to please do nothing until he returned. He quickly made plans to travel and went to find the best casket he could afford for his young bride. With the casket loaded on his pickup he made his way to wait for the mail boat to arrive.

The four-hour trip to the island was with a heavy heart and upon arrival things moved quickly. Fannie Pearl was to be buried on the other side of the water with her parent’s family plot. This was not an easy task and the only way to quickly make the trip was to utilize a skiff. About mid-way across Martha Ann who was in the skiff behind the boat caring the body of Fannie Pearl, gasp as she saw the new silvery moon and realized that the details Fannie Pearl shared about her own death had come to pass just as she described.

As Amy Howard shared this story, I turned and started taking pictures over Silver Lake. It was a full moon night, however the full moon was behind me. It may have been dust, a moth or whatever, but whatever it I was, it was on perfect cue for Amy's Story. Rest In Peace Fannie Pearl.

Another interesting visit to Ocracoke Island.

Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its seventh year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at 12:00 noon. For more on the show visit  www.lifeinthecarolinas.com, You can email Carl White at Carl@lifeinthecarolinas.com.                    

Copyright 2017 Carl White

[bfilmblues-blog]

Movie Review - The Last Slumber Party

No, this movie isn’t about a large surgeon fighting thunder storms. That would be an awesome movie though.

Pros: One of the most nonsensical twists I have ever seen in a movie which is kind of entertaining.

Cons: Birth of a Nation was less controversial and hateful. The theme song is now burned into my brain and unfortunately the only cure is death. Terrible ending. Terrible acting. Terrible killer. The longest quest for Orange Juice I have ever seen in any form of media.

Let me start by saying that normally as a fan of questionable music taste I can listen to the most horrible of audio treats in the world and still wear a grin on my face. Vaporwave? Bring it on. That bootleg Gaslamp Killer cut? Whatever, sounds good. That rare ICP/DMX beta track that was found in an abandoned grave in small Mexican village? Let's turn it up. Still, out of everything that has poisoned my ears "LETS GO OUT TONIGHT" is by far the worst song I have ever heard in my life. 

I don't say this lightly, who ever made that song is a terrible person but also some kind of autistic savant of audio, some kind of reverse Johann Sebastian Bach who hated both music and people. Not only does this song play every three seconds in the movie, but it also seems to have the ability to drown a ton of the dialog as well which makes it even more aggravating. Nothing shows this more then the very first scene where 99% of the dialog is drowned out in a classroom, which should be the easiest fucking place in the world to capture decent audio. I could go on for pages about how atrociously bad the sound is, but it really is something that one can only experience for themselves. I have watched a ton of low quality movies that has worse recording when it came to the audio, but it was a blessing because those movies often were terrible and not hearing the actors (Or your drunk friends you paid $2 to attempt drama) was normally a good thing. The sad part was, I was actually kind of interested in The Last Slumber Party because I am pretty sure it might be one of the most 80's of all 80's slashers I have ever seen and I was trying to find out what the hell was the deal with all the plot holes and illogical scenes put into this movie.

Well, joke is on me, I watched this like five times now and while I fully understand every line due to a crack team of Chinese secrete police who transcript the movie for me, nothing still makes sense.

The movie starts with three extremely unattractive women and the three counterpart boyfriends they have talking about summer vacation, how much summer is going to rule, and how some nerd in the background named Science rules because he helped them with their biology homework.

The three most beautiful women of Louisiana!

Meet Chris, Tracy, and Linda. Here is a easy chart to describe each character.

Chris:

Red Hair

Hates people with a different sexuality then hers so much she has to comment about it about 50230 times every single day.

Loves to drink all day, wake up at 4:00 AM, then continue drinking.

Might be a meth addict in real life.

Tracy:

Blonde

Extremely boring and stupid.

For some reason needs to bring every phone into the bathroom.

Only has like 5 lines.

Linda:

Nerd.

Has a dad who is a lackluster neurosurgery doctor.

Is holding a sleepover in the ugliest house on earth.

Really wants Man-nerd bad, which is odd because they are going out already. Don't know what that is about.

For the men counterpoints, I can't remember their names but assume each are named Jock, Goof, and Man-Nerd and they all fit the same tables as above.

Class is about to end and summer vacation is right about to start (But they are all like 30?) and the girls talk about the kickin' rad slumber party they are going to have that and if they should invite boys or not. Chris says a party without sex and men is a waste, Linda kind of twiddles her thumbs and agrees while talking about her lust over Man-nerd, and Tracy tries to remember she is in a movie but fails to do so and nibbles on her hair tips while drooling. Everyone cheers when the Bell rings, the conversation continues, and everyone goes home.

Later that night at a hospital entrance, a nurse walks out complaining that no one wants to have sex with her, which is odd considering she looks like the most attractive person in this film. She goes to a bus stop and waits on a bench while some sleepy guy next to her snores. She complains and complains and complains until finally the audience is granted mercy as our killer comes out to change things up. The killer is by far, in the movie, the most lazy of all slasher killers I have ever seen and consists of some random dude wearing scrubs. That's it, he just looks like some random guy at the ER. Anyways, the killer moves a scalpel in front of her face and she dies from this somehow. Sleepy guy, despite hearing her complain nonstop, scream bloody murder, and the struggle does not wake up. He wakes up afterwards and starts complaining that the bus is taking forever. The killer, obviously annoyed at this doofus, kills sleepy guy for a double whammy.

The face of evil. Hygienic evil. Also, that's the director.

We eventually learn the killer is some kind of random guy who had a lobotomy and became evil for no reason. With part of his brain gone, he now runs around town lightly stabbing people and being a jerk at various parties. Other then that, we never get a name, motivation, or any further background on him. Hell, even in the credits they just label him "Maniac" which is the height of laziness. The only snippets we get are when Linda's dad gets various phone calls we can't hear and he can blandly reply with things like "Oh, that maniac escaped? That's too bad." and "I need to find that maniac. I think."

Now, I have seen a bunch of bad actors in my day, but I might have to say the actor playing Linda's father may be near the worst. Every line he has is read with zero emotion. He can't have any facial expression besides minor puzzlement. Also, he sounds like a robot. I'm not joking when I say that all the actors in Birdemic did a better job then this asshole.

We finally get the titular slumber party and uh... well, not much is happening.

...You guys wanna play monopoly or something?

The girls sit around in various moo-moo's and sleep jerseys while looking bored as hell doing nothing. They do have a slight dance at the start, but it's interrupted by Linda's dad who says he has to get Orange Juice, for the girls to behave, the music they are playing sucks and he then leaves the house. After being burned on the music, they sit down and watch TV where a black static image of a news logo tells them that two people were murdered at the bus stop! DUN DUN DUUAAAAA~ - But they don't care because it's not connected to them in anyway and it’s Louisiana, so people get murdered all the time.

Of course, after hearing about the horrific murders, they immediately think of romance and debate on calling "Men-folk". It's at this point in the movie where suddenly every single person has a southern accent. There was no southern accents before, but now they are in full force. Every sentence ends with "Bless ya'll hearts" and "NASCAR RULES!".

Before they can call dem' ol' boys - well, they show up. They knock on the window with dumb Halloween masks and Chris calls them gay homo's for like, a half hour before they leave to go get some beer. This is a reoccurring theme in the movie where Chris will have a discussion with one of the male counterparts and often goes into a diatribe about how they must be gay and love the idea of having men tongue every orifice they own in a hedonistic sodomy session. It's really nonsensical and so out of place, but almost 90% of her script reads like bizarre homoerotic sex fantasy the director must keep hidden.

Welcome to beautiful Louisiana!

At the gas station, the guys drink in the parking lot when Linda's dad shows up still on his holy quest for Orange Juice. They talk back and forth when Linda's dad is like "Welpp... shit, prob - no Orange juice at this gas station, I better check my work. By work, I mean, the hospital." and just leaves the set. Science, the nerd from the first scene shows up. The guys throw a beer at Science and tell him to party hard, because it's summer! Science looks slightly miffed at this friendly jest and leaves. The guys then describe in great detail who is going to have sex with who, how much summer vacation rules and about how much fun it is to drink beer. All in all, seems like normal high school talk, except you know, that they all look 30-ish.

Back at the slumber party, the girls debate still for another five fucking hours if they should call the boys. Uh - They already said they were coming back. Calm down, ladies. After talking about boys, calling boys, and if smoking pot is cool (They come to conclusion it's not while continuing to pound shots) they finally decide it's time for bed. While they are heading upstairs, one of the boys somehow ends up at the house before the rest of them, had a ladder placed against the bedroom window, and climbs up and enters the room just as the ladies enter it. They pull him inside and after an absurdly awkward conversation between Chris and him involving homosexuality, Chris pushes the girls out the room and explains she wants to get busy. Before that, though, she has to shower. Uh - Ok. She tells him to lay on the bed and in the connecting bathroom, she showers for what seems like four hours - during that time, Science comes into the bedroom and kills Jock-kid who was laying there waiting for some muskrat love. After killing him, he puts his body in the closet.

Huh.

Now you are thinking - Why would Science kill this guy? Is Science the main killer now? The answer to both of those questions are I don't know, and no. For some reason, that light joke about being more upbeat about summer vacation really set off Science, so now he has a blood lust. Whatever. They never explain or show why Science would kill the people who liked him or why he would kill them, but also do their homework for them too, but uh - arughh - my brain.

Chris comes out and in frustration that another man would accept death rather then have relations with her screams to the heavens calling Jock-man a fag and queerbait nonstop over and over before finally getting exhausted from her rant and heading back downstairs with the other girls. Science hides in the corner of the room during all this and is able to not be found. Once again, I’m not sure why Science is there or why he is filled with murderous rage, but hey, that’s horror for you.

Like poetry, Tracy finds goof kid, they go upstairs to have sex and goof kid asks if she has any drugs. Unsure if she does have drugs, Tracy goes into the bathroom to search for some while Science murders the hell out of this loser and chucks his body out the window. During this time, the real killer comes in from the ladder and watches Science doing his stuff while nodding in approval.

Just so you know, there is now two killers in this room, both have not communicated with each other and both are easily hiding in different places in the room. Only the real killer knows Science is in there. While Science does his normal hide in the closet, real killer decides he is a under the bed guy.

Tracy leaves the bedroom, calls goof kid a homo a couple of times because of his disappearance, then screams because she finds a knife the floor. All the girls meet up in the room and discuss where the knife could have came from. After a slight bickering session, they decide it's all a prank from the guys and all cuddle in bed together to go to sleep. In the same room. With the two killers. Oddly enough, the killers leave them be and continue hiding. Seriously. They sleep for like five hours and no one disturbs them. Pretty polite killers, really.

You know a film is bad when even the dude who likes FIRSTRYKE says it's bad.

Chris has a dream where she wanders around a house for like twenty minutes doing nothing while terrible synth music plays. Finally, after the most boring dream of all time, she gets stabbed by various people and wakes up. All the girls are fine, everyone is still asleep. Also, the killers might be asleep too, who knows? Anyways, Chris gets up and decides it's time to start drinking. Hitting the liquor cabinet that isn't hers, she picks up the phone right when it rings (Rude) and gets some heavy breathing. Freaked out, she runs upstairs and tells the other girls about the dreadful phone call. They both could care less. Speaking of phone calls, the conversation then cuts to them debating if they should call the boys again for the 100th time. It’s like, 5:00 AM. Jeez, calm down ladies.

Chris is like "Whatever, I'm drinking" and Linda goes with her. Tracy continues to sleep in bed where she is almost murdered by Science in her sleep, but Science is dispatched by our main killer and is thrown out the window. Haha, that's what you get for not enjoying summer vacation, NERD! Main killer then kills Tracy, stabs Linda off screen, and sits around the bedroom doing nothing. Chris continues to drink when Linda's mom gets a call waking her up from dad saying he is still getting orange juice and will be back home soon. Dude? It's been like 10 hours. This causes Linda's mom to get up and tell Chris to shut the gate outside for some reason. Chris goes outside and see's the guys car, confused why there would be a car but no boys to call gay, she goes into detective mode.

And here is where the movie hits a climax. By climax, I mean the most absurd and slow ending ever put into a horror film. Chris walks around the house looking at nothing forever. There was less walking and looking in Homeward Bound. Honestly, it’s just like ten minutes of her walking around a house inspecting various things while the killer always hides somewhat in random frames and looking as goofy as possible. After the longest walking scene in any film ever created, Chris discovers the phone lines have been cut and Tracy is dead upstairs. Chris, by far, has the best reaction to this I have ever seen as she goes “Eh” and just walks out of the the room.

Jeepers Creepers,  Fuck. Oh well, time to drink.

Now, I know it’s Louisiana and I assume it must be pretty normal there to see your best friend murdered by some kind of random violence, but it may just be a bit of bad acting when you have no emotional reaction whatsoever to seeing a corpse in a bed. Like, I get it, acting is hard or whatever, but come on, lady. Chris wanders around till she gets back downstairs and Linda's mom bumps into her. She is like “Oh, uh - I’m dead.” and just falls over holding her throat. We are supposed to assume she was stabbed and wandering around in a panic, but instead she looks kind of bored and lazily falls onto a sofa. Neat.

Linda then also taps Chris on the shoulder and says “Get help.” before also falling on the floor dead from an invisible stab wound. Why, this slumber party is terrible... in fact, I hope it’s The Last Slumber Party! Once again, despite seeing two people she knows die, Chris has no reaction whatsoever and proceeds to walk around the house some more, because twenty minutes of that wasn’t enough. Armed with a large knife, she walks and walks and walks and walks an - Whoops, in a moment of awkwardness, Chris believes she notices the killer and lunges her knife at a figure around a corner and it’s the last doppelganger boyfriend. He dies instantly and yet again Chris has no reaction to this, but instead is just like “Meh.” while leaving the knife inside of him and walking off. 

 Finally, Chris meets the killer. Who will win? They both almost have similar body counts and only one may survive. Truly, this will be an epic battle of survival as - Oh, Chris just stabs him once and he dies. Well, shoot, that was easy. After a full night of binge drinking and murder, Chris passes out next to the killer in the kitchen. Huh... so fifty minutes of walking and a 10 second battle between the killer and the final survivor? Now that is some good film making.

Finally, dad comes home and HEY - He still forgot the Orange Juice! What the hell has this idiot been doing for eleven hours? He goes inside his home and looks at everything all broke/smashed up and his phone lines cut. He rolls his eyes, goes to the fridge and drinks a tall glass of orange ju - Ugh. I just - Come on, director. After his beverage, he continues to look around, still continues to look around, and finally is like “Meh, I should go to work” and drives to work, where upon reaching work he rides the elevator up to his office where he is killed by the killer. How did the killer get up there? Who knows. Anyways, Chris wakes up in the house, steps outside towards the pool, and that Killer must have the fastest running legs on earth because he is now back at the house and attempts to kill her in the pool. Alas, with a big fuck you to the audience, Chris suddenly wakes up and it was all a dream.

Now, “It was a dream” endings are always terrible, but this one somehow continues the stride of doing things on a legendary bad scale decides not only was that not enough, but to keep pushing and somehow get the most dumb ending of all time. Chris wakes up, calls her friends and asks if they are still doing the slumber party. Blah blah blah - Chris goes to her Linda's house and the killer sneaks in, it’s like some eternal loop of bad plot holes and confusion. Scream, credits.

You can watch the whole movie on Youtube, I believe. Check it out and let me know what you think. I would normally write a conclusion, but I just can’t for movie. It’s abysmally bad but at the same time unlike most b-films it is not entertaining either. It’s some weird void of garbage that never brought joy or happiness to anyone or anything.