#hashtag we filthy today

[dipperscavern]

secondincommand!reader getting hurt shielding robb during battle.. rubbing my hands & feet together like a fly on the wall

word count: 1.4k.. how to say oopsie in 14 different languages

robb stark x f!secondincommand!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

war was unpredictable. anything could happen, nothing was guaranteed — except one thing. war was bloody.

he hated every time you fought with him. robb knew why you did, of course. how can you command men you won’t even fight for? why should they listen to someone who’s afraid to get their hands dirty?

you weren’t budging on it. as queen in the north, you had to fight for the people who chose you to rule them, and for the lands they’d settle on/return to after the war. robb could barely focus when fighting, knowing you were out there, but he was king in the north. he had to stand strong & lead by example, so he did. & things went well enough.

until they didn’t.

robb always led the vanguard, constantly put wherever the fighting was thickest. you were usually commanding the archers, being better with a bow than you were with a sword. though skilled with both, you didn’t mind being with the archers, & theon sometimes joined you. robb felt a bit better having you away from where it was bloodiest, and you had to compromise somewhere.

the battle had gone as smoothly as battle could go so far, until you broke from the archers & took an arrow for robb.

luckily, the archer wasn’t a great shot, the arrow lodging in your upper thigh. but to robb, it didn’t matter where it settled — you were hurt.

the man who shot you was quickly cut down, & robb caught you from falling. his head swam, vision going fuzzy from the thought of you being hurt. he would’ve paused the whole goddamn war right then and there, if theon didnt wrap your arm around his shoulder and promise to get you to the medic tent.

he wanted to keep you with him, take you there himself, but theon argued-

“there’s still fighting to be done!”

& robb knew he was right. with a silent prayer to the old gods, he mounted once more, ignoring the pain in his chest as he drew his sword.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

robb’s head was swimming, filled with thoughts of only you. as soon as the fighting was done, he set off to find you. nothing could stop him, & anyone who was in his way knew to get the fuck out of it. he spotted theon escorting you back to you & his shared tent, one of your arms slinked around his shoulders. you had a bandage wrapped around your upper thigh, spots of blood showing through the fabric as you hobbled as best you could.

he ran over, entering the tent just as theon was gently setting you down on one of the chairs inside.

“thanks, theon-“

“what in seven hells was that? hm?”

you & theon’s heads turned to look at him, both of you caught by surprise at his tone. you swallowed, looking at theon — a silent plea to leave before robb’s anger turned to him. he looked at you both, before turning & walking out.

“that was me-“

“almost getting killed?”

“protecting my king.”

robb just blinks, looking at you for a second. he can’t understand how you aren’t as utterly distraught as he felt in that moment, catching you in his arms as you fell.

“y’can’t just do that! just- take arrows whenever you feel like it!”

this is the first time robb has yelled at you. ever. you know he doesn’t mean it — or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself, to keep the tears at bay.

“i would do it again.”

robb huffs out a laugh, turning around and looking at the floor, before looking at you once more.

“this is war, okay? i don’t have time to watch you while ‘m puttin’ a sword through a man’s belly!”

“then don’t?!”

“looks like i have to!” he says, motioning to the bandage on your thigh.

you sigh, “this is war, robb. people get hurt.”

he only shakes his head.

“gods- i shouldn’t have to watch over you like a child. y’should be better than that..” he says, turning & leaving you alone in the tent.

and for once, you’re glad robb leaves. the tears rolling down your cheeks wouldve embarrassed you if he saw.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

you weren’t mad at him. by rights, you should be, & if you were, you knew nobody would blame you — but you weren’t.

you had prided yourself on being the person to fix everything. you were always the solution, not the problem. you hated the shame you felt, and even though you’d take the arrow for robb a hundred times more, you hated when he was mad at you.

still, you knew robb would come to you when he was ready. he rarely let his emotions get the best of him, & you knew how much stress he was under. you sat at the table, maps & books spread out in front of you. you were upset, and burying yourself in your work was a reasonable solution.

you stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, back aching from your hunched over form. you sighed, finally deciding to turn into the bed that’s been calling your name.

wandering hands & soft calls of your name woke you up.

you opened your eyes, brain still clouded with the fog of sleep. you woke up quickly, seeing robb’s form above you.

“robb?”

“hey, pretty.”

your brows furrowed, cheeks heating at his comment. “thought you were mad at me..”

he shook his head, gaze softening. “came to say ‘m sorry. can i?”

you nodded, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, your own parting to give him access.

“‘m sorry.”

he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. his lips trailing down your neck, mumbled apologies spilling from his lips between kisses.

your breathing gets heavier as he trails down, removing your nightgown & his own clothes.

“when i saw y’ take that arrow.. gods, doe..”

he’s gentle. he always is, but more so than ever before. he’s taking his time, full on cherishing you. it’s clear in the gentleness of his calloused, war stricken hands. the very same hands that had taken the lives of lannister soldiers earlier that day were now caressing you, softly roaming your body & sliding into the slick place between your thighs.

“wanted to stop the damn war right then, right there. hold you close, never let you go.”

he feels you clench on his fingers at his words. hot pleasure shoots up your spine, the throbbing pain in your thigh now reduced to a forgotten ache. he wants to do this for the rest of his life, he thinks. take off the crown, bed you all day long. give you so much pleasure you forget a time where anything ever went wrong, fill your brain with thoughts of only him, him, him. he makes a silent promise to do so, once you both return to winterfell. reward you for all the times you’ve saved his arse out here.

“y’couldve.. wouldn’t have- mm! complained..”

he chuckles at your words, tilting his head to the side.

“yeah? woulda liked that?” you nod. “yeah, i know.. i know it, pretty.”

it’s not long after, you’re gushing on his fingers. back arching as you coat your inner thighs & his hand with your arousal. robb presses kisses to your belly as you catch your breath, hands coming to intertwine with his curls as he trails up your torso. little-

“‘m sorry.” & “forgive me? please?”

‘s are muttered between kisses, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you forgave him hours ago — before he even came back. he aligns his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing in as he wraps his hand around yours.

“didn’t mean anythin’ i said. not a word. i was- seven hells… i was so afraid.”

you’re so full. tears brim your waterline at his words, his hands, his cock — just robb. he thrusts, in & out, movements making you shutter as you’re hyper aware of everything. every touch, every slow drag of his hips. goosebumps trail along your body as you bite back a shudder, feeling utterly oh so good.

you ask him to kiss you, & he’s compliant to your every need, pressing his lips to yours. he’d fulfill your every request, go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. what teasing he may normally shower you with is out of the window now, savoring every moment he has with you, as if you could vanish at any given point in time. watching you take that arrow reminded him of that. that you could.

he hits the right spot, over and over again, making you see stars. it’s not long before your grip on his hand tightens, walls clamping down on his cock as you cum. he follows suit, cumming with a groan that reverberates deep in his chest.

he cleans you with a damp washcloth, making sure your stitches didn’t tear either. you’re both laying on your sides, you facing his chest as his hand traces up and down your spine. the silence is comfortable.

“you forgive me?”

“i forgave you hours ago.”

your laughter echoes into the night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

@cdragons @ghostinvenus (just lmk anytime u wanna stop being tagged!)

guys i went a little ham w this but oh well. posting smut on tumblr is soooo scary okay bye

[feefymo]

The Rorchach Effect - Part 1

Jimmy Darling x fem! reader - NSFW • MDNI word count: 2757 author's notes: it was like a multiple birth but here we are. This is my very first attempt of a fanfiction (and it's not written in my native language) but I worked a lot on it and I hope you enjoy it. I tried to keep It simple. After mulling it over I chose to divide the fic in two parts and yes: the smut is in the second part! It's not proofread because I'm a kamikaze, yes. Little curiosity: I was partly inspired by Saltburn and this soundtrack. What else? I'll leave you to read! Be kind, pleaseee! My hashtag is #ficfymo ! summary: Elsa threw a party for Jimmy's birthday but no one knows where he ended up. Fem! Reader POV. warnings: mention of violence, and blood. I think that's it, for now. https://open.spotify.com/intl-it/track/6Huqy9WdEE3rMazEQgajn2?si=2105621ac0044260

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome.

I'm the one they call the Rorschach Woman; my real name is not important.

Do any of you know what vitiligo is? Vitiligo is a disease but in the maternal arms of Elsa Mars, nothing is bad. None of her adopted children are sick: we all have a gift, don't we, Elsa? I had a boundless love for ballet, I was busily studying psychiatry, I was a "prodigy girl" or, at least, I thought I was. Then, the vitiligo showed up. What I thought was my downfall, according to Elsa, represented the true miracle. I gave up dancing; I gave up on my dream of becoming a researcher. I lost the support of my real parents because my appearance had changed but hey! Now I have my own number in Elsa Mars Freak Show. I'm here to enchant you. To let you read the spots on my face. I'm here to interpret your minds. This is my personal test of Rorschach, offered to you, kind audience. A few dollars and you can study me, myself every night but not every night are like this. Tonight I want to tell you a story 'cause today is my best friend's birthday. The brother I've chosen. Tonight, a big party was thrown for him but there's no trace of him. Where did you go, Jimmy Darling?

Let's take a step back.

I've never seen the camp so packed. Never. If all these people showed up for every show, each of us would be filthy rich. I don't understand how it is possible and yet, Elsa must have performed one of her magics. She says she consider Jimmy her blood, so she claimed to organize everything herself. She chose a party theme: "Normal People". She call it "satire", a mockery towards those who are truly considered normal. Some of us believed her, others adapted to avoid getting into trouble. The truth is that, by disguising ourselves according to the canons, we appear even less credible. Grotesque. Ridicolous. I couldn't resist a subtle provocation, so I made my complexion uniform but with the white of French mimes. Like a pierrot. Totally painted in white, I wander around in a champagne dress. I look like a crazy moth until I find the flame. That flame is Jimmy himself, surrounded by a myriad of strangers who urge him to blow out the candles.

- Happy birthday… uhm… -

- Happy birt… Joseph? -

- Jack? John? -

- I think it's Jimmy. -

- Jimmy? Are you sure? -

- JIMMY! -

The music does not cover the murmurs nor the embarrassment that comes down like a curtain. I try to push and elbow to reach my best friend but I can't. He's standing there, nerves to edge: he looks around, clenching his teeth. He seems lost while he's trying to put an unconvinced smile on his Peter Pan face. Once the candles have been blown out, Jimmy disappears in the general disinterest. Nobody cares, the party continues as if nothing had happened, fueling an atmosphere that has nothing normal about it. It's something like a mesmerizing nightmare in the suffused lights that Elsa had placed everywhere. A luminous design that even turns into a labyrinth in the wild meadow near the main event. It should be a modern fairy tale for the privileged who want to escape from the routine. For us, scum, it's an illusion. A utopia, a warning of what we will never achieve but I don't give a fucking damn. Sincerely. If I'm still here it's not because of Elsa nor because I truly appreciate her Cabinet Of Curiosities. I'm still here for my "acquired family" and for the boy who should be the protagonist of the evening which no one cares about.

Driven by the chaos, I search for familiar faces in the dim light until I come across Ethel; she shaved her chin. She is holding a plate with a slice of cake that she has prepared herself and she's standing in the dancing crowd, with a worried and resigned look. We both knows who the cake is for: Ethel has seen his son, maybe talked to him but she won't chase him. I prefer to not disturb her but I don't give up: retreating into a slit of darkness I collide with someone and jump perhaps exaggeratedly. Paul emerges from the darkness, rubbing his side with a grimace. He wears a hideous, gigantic suit to disguise his condition. It makes it look like a sad parallelepiped. Doctor Frankenstein's Creature.

-Paul, sorry! Did I hurt you?! -

-Nah, no biggies! What about you? You're nervous, what's happening? -

-Well, uh, I'm… have you seen Jimmy? I've been looking for him all night. -

- First I saw him with a brunette, she was dragging him towards El-'s tent… hey, that's the one over there! -

But the brunette is not in Jimmy's company: laughing rudely with her friends, she passes by me in a sweet-smelling cloud of glitters. She carries with her a kind of old oil lantern lit on a gesture that makes my blood run cold: cheeky, she twirls a battered glove on her head and, in one breath of Pink Lady, she's already too far away. Even though I would like to, I'm not going to confront her and complicate things because I prefer to follow her steps backwards. An alarm screams wildly inside me and I have to comply with it by launching myself out of the tent. The humidity of the night sticks to my skin, kneading the white paint that I thought was dry. I'm a mess inside and out but it doesn't matter at all.

- JIMMY! - I call, shout and run. I run, run, run like a fugitive. A voice whispers the worst to me and maybe I'm crazy but I can't help it. - JIMMY! - I keep repeating myself but he doesn't answer. The throat burns, the feet go by themselves, swaying dangerously on the heels. I didn't even realize I had ventured onto the lawn until I felt tickles on my ankles. Fräulain Elsa's illuminations invite me to follow their aura like drunken fireflies and I, disaffected, accept. I'm not afraid that Jimmy is dead but, worse, that he's gone. That he left me alone, leaving suddenly and without me. He promised me that if we ever succeeded, we would leave together and one suitcase would be enough to move to Europe. He always kept his promises, he…

I stop, crystallized in the heaviness of the evening. I hear noises scattered throughout the maze of light bulbs: they come from a specific point but they echo and bounce in the air. It sounds like the clumsy moan of an animal that it would be better not to get close to but I obstinately follow the source to the center of the maze. Once I reach my destination I jump somewhere between horror and relief, putting a hand to my mouth so as not to be discovered immediately. Sitting on the ground is Jimmy Darling. Hunched over, he turns his back to me and fiddles with something I don't understand. He is surrounded by objects, some of which I cannot distinguish. There are a few bottles including one of vermouth still sealed, half a lemon, a shirt reduced to a pile of wrinkles in Granada Green, the other glove specially sewn for the party. Some salt, perhaps? The worst aspect, the most dramatic touch, is a pinata hanging over his skull. A lobster-shaped pinata. As I try to figure out whether or not I'm awake, a low, deep growl forces its way into Jimmy's lungs, flaying them with increasing violence. The growl is quickly turning into the pained cry of an already wounded beast. I won't respect his privacy any longer, so I walk over to him and kneel before him.

- JIMMY! JIM, STOP IT! STOP, DAMMIT! - Jimmy was on the verge of cutting off his left hand with a rusty knife but my arrival ruined his plans. He doesn't recognize me right away and his immediate reaction is to turn against me. He is much, much stronger than me but, even if he vehemently chases me away, I attack again in what turns into a blind scuffle. The moment Jim realizes it's really me, he drops his guard groggily. He is no less upset, nor willing to suddenly change his mind but he grabs me by the elbows and pushes me away roughly so that I don't end up hurting myself. Crawling on the ground, he steps back before pulling himself up and staggering but he isn't drunk. He's been drinking but it's not the alcohol that shakes him like this: I recognize the difference, also because I've never seen him in this state. In his big good eyes there is no freshly roasted coffee but boiling petrolium. His expression, a cracked mask of hatred and at the same time authentic desperation, reduced to its core. He trembles in his sweat-soaked undershirt and makes a gesture that he has never deemed necessary in front of me. He hides his hands, trying in vain to put them in his back pockets, like a child caught red-handed. Does he feel reassured by my presence? Is he bothered by it? He's gasping.

Jimmy what… what are you doing? Why?! - I ask him in tears, advancing slowly on my knees. - NO! - he spits out a scream, trying to freeze me in place. - Please… Y/N, no. Enough. That's enough. - I shake my head, I'm confused and I rub my now soaked cheeks. Gray due to the white mixing with the black of the mascara.

- What are you talking about, pleas st-… -

- SHE SCREAMED, Y/N! SHE SCREAMED IN GENUINE TERROR, I TELL YOU!-

- BUT WHO, JAMES?! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHO?! -

He hates it when I call him James but that seems strangely to appease him. He stares at me like a madman and, in silence, seems to wonder how it is possible that I don't know the circumstances of his delirium but, gradually, lucidity returns and, at the same time, an atrocious sadness. - That… oh, fuck. She was one of the very few people to smile at me and make me sincere wishes. Did she really want to spend time with me… did I fall for it like an idiot? I do not know. It was her! She chose it, I warned her but… - while Jimmy tries to explain, he forgets to hide from me and gesticulates, so I notice a burn on the hand that he was seriously about to cut off. The living flesh fades from red to the paleness of the bladder. Grains of not completely dissolved salt outline the surface like grotesque lace. He must have poured it in. - She took off my glove, alluding to my skills as a pilot but then a heartbreaking scream and… and… I had to let it go. Instead, I tried to calm her down but she…how the fuck is that possible? How did she not know I'm a fucking freak? It was written all over the damn thing! But she knew it. She knew it very well. My attentions were the perfect excuse to defend herself. She called me a monster, a half-man, an abomination and so on, you know, what's new? But then… she burned me with her fucking lantern. You convince yourself that you have a zest, that you are used to it and yet it's not true. And, as with Meep, the day comes when insults are no longer enough. - he doesn't have the courage to look at me but what he says is intimate. Devastating. Shareable. - The bar of wickedness is raised. Of course! That girl wasn't defending herself. She squirted oil on me once, twice, three times. She was torturing me, only stopped because I raised my arms and… the fear came back. She's gone. -

I'm annihilated. Annihilated by what I see and hear, I undergo the hypnosis of Jimmy's pain which soon becomes mine too. His irises are diluted by a sea of ​​tears; suffering makes him unfairly wonderful. In the meantime I have reached him and, from the bottom of my position, I stare at him without embarrassment. I wrap one arm around his knees while the other grabs his good hand and places it on the back of my neck. He wants to take it away, he puts up a feeble resistance but he hears me sobbing and stops immediately. - Yes, Jimmy: her wish was to hurt you. This isn't a party, it's a visit to the slaughterhouse and we are the pigs. As always. - now I hold him with both arms, rubbing my face between his knees. The fabric of his trousers becomes stained white make-up until my skin is almost clean. I raise my head. My face's a palette used between stains that can be washed away and stains that my skin retains.

- Look at me. Are you looking at me? -

- I am. - he says, with the tone of someone who absolutely has to convince you. He hasn't noticed but he's stroking my hair. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth turned down. -The kindness with which you caress me has never belonged to anyone among the few who have touched me. Not even my mother. - I'm deadly serious. I look at him with watery eyes but it's his tear that rains down my forehead. - Not even to myself. - because I mistreated myself, inflicted physical pain and consequent signatures but he… - If those are really claws, everyone should have them. Maybe they would learn what kindness is. - if I wasn't the one talking to him, he wouldn't believe me. He would mock me, it would be bitter and biting. Instead he fights with the truth that I offer him and stares at me dazed. Almost angry, hunted. The problem is that he believes me, so he picks me up and it's as if he's looking at me for the very first time. His forehead is damp with sweat, so I free his unruly curls before rummaging through my clutch bag. I make sure he follows my gestures and I take out a box of matches: I choose one and place it under the perfect curve of his nose. He flinches but stays as I light the end and, solemnly, set the piñata on fire. While the papier-mâché lobster is devoured by the flames, little by little, melted sweets and chocolate perish in the meadow. Neither of us needs to introduce what's about to happen: just as I stand on tiptoe, he lowers his disheveled head and the tips of our noses meet. It's the last chance to retract before the soft "m" of his upper lip meets my lower lip, dehydrated from makeup. In the first friction there is the disbelief of all the years in which we have not allowed ourselves and then, surrounded by the smell of burning, the kiss intensifies in an unstoppable crescendo. Jimmy wraps his bare arms around my body with the eagerness of someone who must survive. For my part, I let out a moan and cling to his shoulder blades: I realize what I wanted and how much I needed to be satisfied. Jimmy and I share the thrill of the kiss, so much so that he murmurs something incomprehensible against my teeth before parting them with his tongue and searching for mine. He holds my head as if I were water and he was drinking and he doesn't care about the cosmetic taste I have on; his lips turn pale. He slides down my neck without any self-control and I understand that he would take me here, right now. In the midst of the fire. - Wait. - I try to stop him with a deafening smooch. We are out of breath and the air is irrespirable but he stares at me with an imploring look. - How much longer? - he plead. I feel his blood vibrate under his golden skin, between the vertebrae of his broad back. - You have to trust me: I have an idea. - The smoke screen rises towards the sky and us. We… dissolve in the middle.

taglist: @taintandviolent @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth + PLEASE, If you want to be added or I forgot someone, let me know!

[oldofmd12verse]

OFMD Decembverse 2022 Information

Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).

First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile

Official Twitter for this event:

Information:

OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.

Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.

You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.

This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.

Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.

Prompt List:

Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.” Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.” Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.” Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.” Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.” Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.” Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.” Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?” Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!” Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.” Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.” Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?” Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.” Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.” Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.” Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…” Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.” Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!” Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.” Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.” Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.” Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.” Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.” Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.” Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.” Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!” Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.” Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.” Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?” Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!” Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”

Rules: 1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.

2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).

3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!

4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.

Frequently Asked Questions:

What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good? Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.

Do I have to participate in every day/prompt? No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.

What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt? Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.

Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day? No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.

Do my poems have to rhyme? No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.

Can my poetry be explicit/sexy? Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.

Can I participate by writing for other fandoms? Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.

Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote? No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.

Where can I post my work? Ao3: This collection is the place to post it. Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags. Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.

[ofmddecembverse]

OFMD Decembverse 2022 Challenge

Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).

First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile

Official Twitter for this event:

OFMD Decembverse (@ofmd12verse) / TwitterOFMD Poetry Prompt Challenge for December 2022.TWITTER

Information:

OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.

Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.

You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.

This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.

Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.

Prompt List:

Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.” Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.” Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.” Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.” Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.” Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.” Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.” Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?” Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!” Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.” Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.” Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?” Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.” Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.” Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.” Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…” Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.” Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!” Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.” Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.” Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.” Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.” Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.” Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.” Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.” Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!” Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.” Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.” Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?” Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!” Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”

Rules: 1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.

2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).

3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!

4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.

Frequently Asked Questions:

What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good? Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.

Do I have to participate in every day/prompt? No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.

What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt? Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.

Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day? No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.

Do my poems have to rhyme? No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.

Can my poetry be explicit/sexy? Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.

Can I participate by writing for other fandoms? Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.

Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote? No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.

Where can I post my work? Ao3: This collection is the place to post it. Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags. Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.

[lotrthobbit]

Woodland Princess

Part 2

The other parts of the story can be found on the hashtag #WoodlandPrincessLegolasFanfic

I do not own the gifs. The drawing is created by me

Enemies to Lovers

Legolas x reader

As previously stated: for the sake of this story, I have created a new kingdom which the location is up to the reader and I have also created my own character which happens to be one of your guards.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND MY NON BINARY FRIENDS, I present to you, HIM

I drew how Augustus is supposed to look like. And the white markings are common in the Mystic.

………..Now continuing………

(Y/n ) pov

Augustus had helped me feel better by training with me in combat. He always knew how to make me feel better. It was night time and we proceeded to make our way back to the palace to see the guards whispering amongst themselves.

“What has you gossiping so loudly ?!” I said placing both hands on my hips

“PRINCESS !” They yelled in fear and bowed,” guys come on share whatever juicy Intel you have.” I replied.

One the guards began to whisper,” the Prince of Mirkwood tried to challenge one of our lower ranked guards, despite him being the best archer of Mirkwood, he fell to the ground in his arse in a flat second “ they all began to laugh.

I am ashamed to say that I did too.

“And what are you all laughing at ?!” Yelled a voice. We all turned to see Legolas standing at the entrance with a scowl.

The guards immediately went back to their position and stayed quiet while Augustus and I tried to compose ourselves from laughing.

I walked past him purposely shoving his shoulder. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away and heard him say,” filthy”.

Once I entered my chambers I see that the maids have prepared a bath which I thanked them and they made their way out. I began to get into the bath smelling sweet vanilla and lavender. I wet my (hair length and color) and let out a sigh of relief. Despite letting my anger out during training I felt all the events begin to cloud my mind.

I was still questioning my father’s motives. If I marry Mirkwood’s puney Prince, I would have to leave Mystic, meaning leaving mom and leaving father, leaving my people.

I then heard a knock at the door. It was one of the maids,” My princess here is your evening dress for the dinner. “ I smiled and thanked her.

I looked at the dress, it was a beautiful lavender dress with a corset top and long sleeves that hung off my shoulders. Instead of putting on heels I simply put on my boots. They were hidden under my dress and I remember Augustus once saying it’s always good to be ready in case of an ambush.

I began to make my way through the halls. The light from the moon peeked through the many windows. It was simply a breathtaking view. As I made my way to the dining hall, I see my father, Prince Legolas, and King Thranduil, I did not see the guards or any of the maids.

In my kingdom we all dine together regardless of status. But seeing their absence made my stomach drop. Are they eating outside ?

“Ah- my beautiful daughter !” I cringed seeing both the King and Prince look at me with wide eyes.

As I walked to my seat, Augustus pulled it out and I sat down thanking him as he began to walk away I grabbed his wrist,” are you not dining with us ?” He simply bowed and said,” no princess. “ and walked away.

What’s with the bowing ?

My father looked at me with a stern look as Legolas and the King both raised their eyebrows.

Augustus was like a best friend to me. Since we were children we trained with one another.

“ you seem to be popular amongst your men here. “ chuckled Legolas, with a venomous tone. Which his father proceeded to yell,” Do not speak so I’ll towards your wife to be ! Respect her !”

I then smirked hearing King Thranduil argue in my sake.

“Well, let’s not fight instead let us enjoy this fine feast our maids have created for us. “ smiled my father. He looked rather ill today. I placed a hand on his knuckle and asked him if he was alright to which he nodded and smiled at me but for some reason I had a feeling that he was lying.

I looked up only to see Legolas looking at me, not with a smirk but with a look of sympathy. What’s going on ?

We proceeded to eat a little bit of everything. It was a delicious meal. I then proceeded to bring up the taboo subject

“When and why am I bethroed to Prince Legolas ?” My father and the King stopped eating then looked at one another then proceeded to explain.

My father began to say,” I am dying,” he paused to which I felt my eyes beginning to brim with tears,” I need to know that Mystic will be safe after I depart, and in order to keep the treaty alive both king Thranduil and I have agreed upon this since you were a young elf, if any of us had fallen ill or were to die we would let our children marry one another thus either combining our kingdoms or having one rule one of them. “

“ isn’t Legolas supposed to take over Mirkwood ?” I asked. Still is disbelief as tears streamed down my face.

Thranduil began to speak,” That is a decision to make if I come to pass, Legolas and you would take over Mystic.”

I quickly stood up looking down clenching my fists,” Father- do you not trust me to take care of my own people ?! Why must Prince Legolas take over as king ?! He knows nothing of our customs nor of our fighting style !”

“(Y/N)!!!” My father yelled then proceeded to cough and almost faint as I grabbed him

“Father !” He closed his eyes and I called out to the guards who helped me escort him to his room and called for the physician.

Please be okay….

.

.

.

To be continued………

The other parts of the story can be found on the hashtag #WoodlandPrincessLegolasFanfic

[planetenfreund-blog]

Boycotting Black Friday: An Environmental Day of Action

“What do you want for Christmas?”

In the days leading up to Thanksgiving this year, I began to hear this familiar question from my family. (Sadly, “a plastic-free ocean” wouldn’t fit on my wish list.) Like millions of Americans, my relatives were looking to snag some deals over the Black Friday weekend. Though I will also be wrapping some presents for family this year, I decided to skip shopping in the days following Thanksgiving, opting instead to get outdoors and clean up a local park.

As Black Friday discounts spread around the globe and American shoppers are spending more on this day every year, the environmental impact of our purchasing habits is adding up. 

The online and in-store shopping spike between Black Friday and Cyber Monday means more delivery trucks on roads and freight ships crossing oceans. This creates a worldwide surge in air pollution concentrated over just a few days. Our discounted goods have companions, too: packing peanuts, plastic shopping bags, and other packaging pile up on this shopping holiday, and are all but doomed for the landfill. The heavily-discounted items we buy over this weekend, such as new technology and clothing, are no different. Globally, 50 million tons of electronics waste is produced annually, and Americans are throwing away clothes at a rate of 13 million tons per year.

Some organizations have begun a push to boycott Black Friday. 

The international environmentalist group Greenpeace endorses Buy Nothing Day, a sort of anti-holiday that originated in Australia in 1997. Participants observe the day, which commonly takes place on or around Black Friday, by abstaining from making any purchases for 24 hours. 

REI, the outdoor recreation company, promotes a similar approach. Starting in 2015, REI began closing its stores (and shutting down its website) on Black Friday, encouraging employees and customers to instead spend the day outdoors. The company created the social media hashtag #OptOutside to promote the initiative, which this year became part of a larger climate action campaign. Starting with the coordination of over 100 litter cleanup events around Black Friday, REI marked November 2019 as the kickoff of its “Opt to Act Plan.” This free-to-use plan provides participants with 52 simple weekly challenges intended to reduce one’s environmental impact. 

The day after Thanksgiving, I recruited my friend Marcus McCleary to join me in cleaning up Constitution Lakes, a nature preserve tucked behind a truck dealership off a busy industrial boulevard in Southeast Atlanta.  

(Street view courtesy of Google Maps) Visitors to this unique park may take the boardwalks over two small, minnow-filled lakes and can also stroll along the Doll’s Head Trail, a short hiking loop featuring folk art sculptures made of found objects scattered throughout the park. Marcus is a regular contributor to these sculptures himself. 

We set out with our gloves and bags, often having to tread through twigs and briars to pick up litter off the sides of the walking paths. Among our discoveries were plenty of weathered beer cans and heavily-soiled soda bottles, some even with moss growing inside them. Along the banks of the lakes, we found lots of styrofoam cups and plastic wraps, some too far out in the water for us to reach. 

I have written about the consequences of littering before, but I was reminded of an additional one during this cleanup: Tossing trash in nature can ruin perfectly good recyclables. Our first bag of litter included numerous bottles that were simply too filthy to clean for recycling. 

In addition to the usual offenders (food wrappers, tobacco products, etc.), here are some of the more unique items we found during our cleanup:

A dilapidated bouncy ball.

A box of condoms.

Tangles of fishing wire.

A THC cartridge.

Underwear hung from trees.

A glass Coca-Cola bottle from 1979.

An antique iron doorknob (Marcus added this to a Doll’s Head sculpture).

Several of the objects Marcus and I found had obviously been discarded decades in the past. This made me think about how long items littered today will lay in waiting before someone comes along to clean them up. 

Here is the final haul of litter we carried out of the park, not including the first bag we tossed halfway through:

We ended up collecting a respectable pile of bottles and cans for recycling:

I am glad to have spent my Black Friday cleaning up outside instead of cleaning out a sales rack. This project also let me check off Week One of the 52-week Opt to Act Plan: To make cleaning up a daily habit. I encourage anyone reading this post to check out the plan for yourself and see how you can take small steps to be a friend to the planet. 🌎

[renegadewangs]

Ace Mindhunter - 2nd Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

2nd Interview Roger

Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:21 PM Location: Interview Room. Another day, another interview. Much as Simon had protested, Athena had stood her ground. She wished to be a part of this project and now that she'd drawn the answers out of Vasquez where Simon had failed, there was no way to argue. If there were ever an early interview which would have her lose her nerve, today's subject would be the one to do it. They'd gone from one TV producer to another, this one a familiar face to Athena. He'd been tossed into prison quite recently, on the 28th of April, four months after Simon had left it. This inmate had not killed out of self-defense. It had been premeditated, vindictive and as convoluted as things tended to get around L.A. these days. The perfect subject for a closer examination. They had been kept waiting for over twenty minutes already when at last a guard entered the room from the inmate's side. “The Ratings Rajah will see you now,” the guard said, acting as if he were announcing the entry of royalty. “This should be good,” Simon heard Athena mutter under her breath. Despite never having been one to regard the muck produced by Take-2 TV, the man who walked into the room was exactly the sort Simon would picture to be behind it all. Greasy hair, a smug grin, a raised eyebrow, sunglasses even within a dark room... He was as different from Vasquez as could be. While his beady eyes flicked to Athena for an instant, he seemed unbothered to be faced with one of the defense attorneys who'd caused his downfall. After sitting down, he leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table. “Hang loose, babies! Let's make this quick, yeah? I'm a busy man,” Retinz said. “Are you really?” Athena asked in turn, glaring at him. “Is that your first question? Eesh. This is why I don't leave interviews to amateurs. Need me to take charge instead?” Retinz reached for the list of prepared questions, but Simon slid it out of his reach and instead gestured to the tape recorder. “Before any of that, do you mind if we record this?” “Mind if I do?” Retinz pulled a camcorder out of his sleeve and directed it at Simon's face, grinning. “Sorry,” said the guard, who'd remained by the door. “He's not allowed to have things like that, but he keeps hiding them somehow. We just can't figure out where he's keeping it all.” “Magician's secret, I suppose,” Athena grumbled. “Ever heard of enunciation?” Retinz asked her. “Better speak up, unless you want your audience to deal with subtitles.” “You'd best put that camera away before I remove your hand with it. There will be no more coin tricks for you when you're without fingers,” Simon said. Retinz promptly made his camcorder disappear again. “So what's this interview all about? Are you writing an article about how right I was? Have you come to apologize for slandering my good name?” “Ugh...” Athena looked almost nauseous. She pulled herself together again with impressive speed, though. “We're here on behalf of Interpol's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We'll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the crime you have committed. Our goal is to compile several psychological profiles and, ultimately, use them to create a statistical analysis which will not include your name. What you discuss with us is subject to Interpol's confidentiality clause and cannot be used against you in your applications for parole.” “So this is... What, a science project for school?” Retinz asked. “Interpol,” Athena snapped at him. “Potato, tomato.” Athena puffed up her cheeks with indignation. Simon decided that he would allow her to take the lead again for now, as this experience would either toughen her hide or break her determination to go through with the project. “We'd like to talk about where you were born and raised.” Athena opened her folder to glimpse down at Retinz's profile. “It says here you lived in Wichita until you were sixteen years old?” Retinz made a very loud noise, similar to a game show's buzzer. “Kansas? No, no, what kinda mook do you take me for? Haven't you watched any of my shows? Born and raised in Brooklyn!” “There's no government record of you ever living in Brooklyn.” “Who cares about records? Didn't I just tell you? It's all explained in my shows.” “... So you're lying to your audience,” Athena concluded, pursing her lips together. Retinz waved a dismissive hand at her. “Talk about greenhorns... Don't you know nobody cares about the truth? They get enough of that from their own lives. People watch TV so the flashy, mindblowing fiction can distract them from all that.” “That sounds rather like a magician's misdirection,” Simon pointed out. “It's a producer's bread and butter. Besides, anyone can do a bit of trickery on TV. All it takes is clever editing, a green screen here and there, some hapless acting... It's all easy gimmicks.” Retinz glanced towards the far wall, his gaze hardening. “... A magician's deception takes hard work and passion. Only a filthy criminal could have that sort of talent.” “A criminal such as yourself?” Athena asked him. “What are you saaaying? You'd better wash your mouth out with soap right now, Missy!” Retinz proclaimed, raising both hands in a defensive manner. “Are you kidding me right now?! I was there when it all went down in the courtroom, remember? We exposed you as a killer!” “You sure that was me? Maybe I had a twin, like those cute magician girls.” Athena looked ready to boil over. As for Simon, he saw an opportunity and took it. “Hold on. Only a moment ago, you stated that only a filthy criminal could have the talent necessary to be a magician. Yet now you refer to cute magicians?” “Those wannabes weren't real magicians. No talent. Zilch,” Retinz stated. “That's why they were piggybacking off Little Miss Wright, see.” “Right, speaking of your grudge against Trucy Wright-” Athena began, only to be interrupted. “Grudge? What gruuudge?” “The one that landed you in here!” “Don't know what you're talking about. I've got better things to do than project resentment onto little girls. Makes for a great TV show, though! Exactly the sort of fiction people are searching for in their mundane lives! Maybe you're not a lost cause after all.” “Oh, uh...” Retinz pulled a phone out of his pocket and promptly began typing, muttering to himself. “Defense attorneys make for great script writers. They sure can spin some interesting delusions, LOL! Smiley face... Hashtag Wright Anything Losers... Aaand post!” Simon glanced at the guard, who took a single step towards Retinz. There was no point, though, as the phone had already vanished by the time the second step was taken. Simon wondered just how many followers Retinz still had on social media and made a note to find out. A live feed directly from prison and the support it might gain could add to their research. “That's slander...” Athena huffed. “Talk to me about slander when you're stuck in death row for a murder you didn't do, yeah?” Athena leaned back in her chair, lost as could be. Simon didn't blame her. This sort of denial would usually only be found on the witness stand. To have it continue even after conviction... Well, it made for an interesting sub-category within their study, to say the least. “So tell me, Mr. Greasy Producer,” Simon began, “why are you in here?” “I was framed by the competition, obviously. Take-3 TV hates my guts. Might've even teamed up with Trucy Wright- you know. The real killer.” Athena made a move as if she were about to tear Retinz's head off, so Simon held her back with one hand. Even as he did so, he watched their subject's reactions very closely. “So all those testimonies of what people have seen and heard in the courtroom during the Wright trial... Those were all fabricated?” “Oh, you bet. I'd tell you to ask the girl sitting right next to you, but she's good buddies with Trucy. She won't take my side, believe you me.” “I see that you've requested an appeal of your case several times.” “And I will keep asking until I get it.” “This is pointless,” Athena said quite abruptly, slamming the folder shut and rising to her feet. “We're not going to get anything out of him. Let's just go.” For all of four seconds, Simon assumed her claims to be a bluff. Some trick to get Retinz talking. That was thrown into question when she left the room and didn't return. Indeed, this interview had broken her determination, just as he'd wished. Why, then, did it leave him feeling defeated? “Excuse me. We will continue this interview tomorrow.” Simon got up from his chair as well, stopping the recording process. Retreat was indeed the best strategy for now. Retinz grinned up at him, looking every bit the victor. “Hey, bring some good coffee next time, will you? None of that machine sludge they try to poison me with in here. I need a hit of a brand name, like Bunny's Caffé or Starbills.” “... Duly noted.” ------- Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:31 PM Location: Detention Center. Athena was storming through the detention center and towards the prison's exit so fast, Simon would have trouble keeping up if he were a lesser man. He caught up to her just before she reached the door and while he used very little force, he grabbed her arm all the same. “Hold it.” “I'm not going back in there,” Athena insisted, whirling round to face him. “Let's just tell Lang it's a waste of time. Because it is. How are we supposed to ask him about his childhood if he's just going to lie about it? And how will we find out anything about his thoughts during the murder if he keeps insisting he didn't do it?” “The denial is, in itself, something worth investigating. Where does it stem from? How does it sustain itself within his mind? Are you not curious?” “I... Maybe. Or maybe he's just acting like that to piss us off. A skeevy guy like him would know all about acting, right?” Athena glanced down towards the ground, then back up at Simon, as if hoping for his confirmation. “The only way to be certain is to continue the interview. I've told him that we will return tomorrow and we had best plot out a strategy before then.” Athena grinned and pumped a fist. “Oooh, so you're on board with me helping you out after all?” “... I believe that the daughter of Metis Cykes would not be defeated by a mere hustler of a magician. You must stand tall and if that means you would walk into a room with a killer willingly, I will stand by your side.” “Aww, that's sweet. Thanks, Simon.” Athena nudged his upper arm. “The two of us together, we'll crack this guy. Or just his ribs. Either one.” They retreated into a corner of the detention center's waiting area, where several couches and coffee tables were gathered. Simon made sure to look so very gloomy and ill-tempered, no one would come within twenty feet of them while they discussed more sensitive matters. “So how do we get him to say something that isn't nonsense?” Athena asked. “Perhaps we can begin by asking him about the victim. He knew that unfortunate wannabe magician long before the murder. Perhaps something worthwhile will spill out.” “Oh, I'm sure he'll offer his sincere condolences and make sure we've recorded it. And then he'll try to use it as evidence if he ever gets an appeal,” Athena huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We all know he did it! Who does he think he's fooling?” Simon mulled it over for a moment. Seven years in prison had left his views on psychology rusty, and he believed it best that Lang never find out about that, or else he'd risk losing his chance to meet with the Phantom. For now, he had to focus and get those old gears grinding again. “I don't believe his words to be hot air. Not entirely, anyway. Indeed, everyone knows he committed the crime, so there is only one person left to fool.” “Who would that be?” “Himself, of course. He shows signs of emotional detachment, not only towards the crime but towards his past. Furthermore, while his mind associates accomplished magicians with criminals, recall his reactions when accused of being either one.” “... He deflected.” “Precisely. Perhaps we should not be speaking to Roger Retinz, the Ratings Rajah. Instead, we ought to find a way to converse with Mr. Reus.” ------- Date: June 10th 2028 Time: 2:18 PM Location: Interview Room. Once again, they'd been kept waiting for almost twenty minutes when at last Retinz walked in with a casual stride. Once again, he tilted his chair back and allowed his feet to rest on the table. His eyes moved towards a cup on the table. “... Bunny's Caffé?” “Indeed. You failed to specify what sort of coffee you wanted. I've decided that you are a double espresso man and if you don't like it, you will not be a coffee man at all,” Simon said, smirking. “Double espresso is exactly on the nose. Thanks, man. At least someone here has good manners.” Retinz made sure to shoot a filthy look towards Athena, then he took the espresso and drained it without so much as a second thought. Simon wondered vaguely whether he had built up an immunity to caffeine over the years or whether he'd just given himself a sleepless night. “We'd like to try, once again, to go over this list of questions with you. It is imperative that we gain better insight into your history and motives.” “Why? Your little pet project is about killers, right? You've got the wrong person. I'd suggest you pay Trucy Wright a visit instead.” While Athena's fingers tensed, she said nothing. Simon drew a steadying breath of his own before continuing. “First of all, it's imperative that we establish something else. That is, are you the magician known as Mr. Reus?” “Whaaat?” Retinz went from faux surprise to a dismissive attitude so fast, it could've given him vertigo. “Don't you know anything? Manov Mistree was Mr. Reus. He's dead now.” “Then, I will rephrase the question. Were you, at any given point in time, Mr. Reus?” Retinz clammed up immediately. There was no acting, no snide comebacks, nothing. What did happen was that the man reached for his right arm, where a scar was meant to be. Ready to deal the final blow, Simon pulled a handful of change from his pocket and placed it in front of Retinz. “What is...?” the man asked. He moved into some sort of stiff disdain. “You think I'm so down on my luck that I need your charity? Don't be ridiculous.” “A few coin tricks, if you please. As I was unable to play the part of audience during the Wright trial, I've heard no more than tales.” “If you want to see your coins disappear, just give them to a hobo. Or Little Miss Trucy.” “Quite right, anyone can make coins disappear. Only the Great Mr. Reus possesses the skill to perform the finest coin tricks in the world. Tricks of legend.” For a few seconds, Retinz seemed almost hesitant. Then something changed at the drop of a hat- or a facade. His gaze hardened and just like that, he was a whole other person. He took several coins in hand, clenched his fist, then they were gone. He stretched out all his fingers to show off his empty palm. Next, he held up his other hand, where the coins were spread out quite neatly between his fingers. “... Now, check behind your right ear.” Simon frowned, did as he was told and found another coin there, kept in place by his untidy hair. “How's that for a magic trick? I could have a coin appear anywhere on your body if I wanted to, but there's certain lines I don't dare cross. You don't seem the type who would laugh about it.” “Mr. Reus, I presume?” “The one and only. We accept no more imitations or substitutes.” Athena's jaw must've dropped at some point, for Simon looked her way just in time to see that she was closing her mouth again. “Oh... Well. All right, then.” “I would like to ask, once more, for your truthful participation. Are you prepared to answer our questions?” Reus clenched his hand together and tilted it, so that he could flick a coin into the air with his thumb. He caught it quite deftly. “Ask away.” “You were born and raised in Wichita, where you lived until you were sixteen years old, is that correct or isn't it?” “Bingo.” “Tell us about your parents.” “They were poor. Dirt poor. We lived in a run-down little shack. Pops was unemployed and drunk, mom was packing groceries at the deli.” “Did you have any siblings?” “Nope, it was just me. Probably for the best, because three was already a crowd in that hovel of a house.” “You didn't get along with your parents?” “Nope.” While Athena was attempting to stay out of the conversation, her pen was scritching against the paper. Simon didn't want to ask his next question in front of her, but knew that he had no choice. Regardless, he would be a hypocrite for assuming that she wouldn't be strong enough to handle this sort of thing. He'd already made his decision when he stopped Athena from leaving the detention center only a day ago. A deep breath, then he posed the query. “Did they abuse you?” “Sounds like this interview's turning into a dumpsterfire. Don't get too close, or you might get burned,” Reus proclaimed. He stopped flipping his coin and held it in the palm of his fist. When next he opened his hand, there were several inches of flames. The glow of the miniature fire was so bright that the lenses of Reus's sunglasses became obscured. The guard, who had once again been standing ready by the door, appeared both unnerved and unwilling to act. So much for the strong arm of the law. “Whoah, whoah! Take it easy, Jafar!” Athena called at him. It seemed as if Reus needed just a bit more incentive to speak. One more gimmick to open up to them. Simon reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a deck of cards. It was placed before the magician, drawing his attention without further ado. “Go on. Take them,” Simon urged. “I assure you, it's a complete deck.” A pause, then the flame in Reus's palm disappeared. He began to shuffle the cards in the most expert manner Simon had ever seen, even going so far as to shoot the deck from one hand into the other and back again. The whole ordeal turned into something of a blur. Finally, Reus held the deck face-down looked him square in the eye. “Name a card off the top of your head.” “... The Ace of Spades,” Simon said. Reus lifted the top card off the deck and placed it face-up on the table. It was the Ace of Spades. “Now you, Missy,” he told Athena. “Uuuhh... The Five of Hearts?” Reus lifted the next card off the deck and that one, too, was exactly as foretold. Athena smacked a hand down on the table. “Wait, no! I changed my mind! I want the Four of Diamonds!” Reus took the Five of Hearts with his free hand, spun it around on his fingertip, then placed it back down. It was now no longer the Five of Hearts, it was the Four of Diamonds. “It is done.” “Maaaaan... That's impossible.” Athena said, and Simon didn't need her special ability to hear the envy in her voice. Reus slid the two cards back into the deck, then began to shuffle again. He looked quite content as he did so, perhaps even comfortable. He was in his element, which was exactly as Simon had planned it. “My Pops,” Reus began, placing down the King of Clubs for them as if it were a tarot card, “was King of the castle. He was the one who would lay down the law and he would punish accordingly. That law depended on his mood. On a bad day, he'd knock the stuffing outta me just for breathing too loudly.” Simon was forced to consider the possibility that this was yet another 'fiction' tailored to a certain audience. Without a doubt, this sort of story held fitting notes to those attempting to compose the melody of a psychological profile. Still, the look on Reus's face gave the whole thing credibility. It was grim and real. “What did your mother say about that?” “Mom... was his devoted Queen.” Reus laid the Queen of Hearts out next to the King, then placed a Joker neatly below the two of them. “She had no problems with the hierarchy because the law didn't apply to her. She kept saying Pops had it rough because he was having such a hard time finding a job, and if he took it out on me it was my own fault. Somehow, everything was always my fault. Somehow, I was the failure.” “That sounds like a tense atmosphere for a child.” “No kidding. Pops said he didn't want me around, so I didn't stick around. I was outside the house more often than inside, hiding and practicing magic tricks.” Reus slipped the Joker back into the deck of cards first, shuffled, then snatched up remaining two to complete the collection again. With that, he went right back to absentminded shuffling. “What exactly about magic was it that drew your attention?” Athena asked, now a bit more sympathetic and willing to tend to business than before. “A magician could do anything and overcome anything. No limits. Being sawed in half was no problem, being tied up with chains and stuck in a dunk tank was no problem, being trapped in a cage and then run through with swords was no problem... They could make a yacht disappear, they could teleport across the stage, they could read your mind... When I was a kid, I thought magicians were the most powerful beings in the world.” Simon tapped his pen against the paper, thinking it over. “And they could never be hurt, correct?” The cards Reus had been holding sprang into the air and scattered all over. He recoiled, once again reaching for his scarred arm as if he'd just been burned in that very specific spot. “W-Well... Only the very best, obviously.” “So when you were sixteen, you left your home and attempted to make a name for yourself as Mr. Reus.” “Right. Naive youngster that I was, I had my sights set on the Gramarye Troupe.” Reus returned to flipping a coin as he spoke, each time catching it with such a nimble motion of the fingers that it didn't land so much as transition straight into its next jump. “By the time I was twenty, they'd already welcomed me into their midst. Bunch of miserable traitors that they were...! I gave several years of my life to them- gave them everything I had to give and they dropped me like I was nothing! My burning passion was nothing but a sad little smoulder in their eyes!” “... I've heard tales that Magnifi cast you out after a single mishap and none of the other Gramaryes stuck up for you.” “That's saying it lightly. Magnifi humiliated me and soured the name of the Great Mr. Reus for years to come. Anyone who believes Troupe Gramarye was a family is dead wrong. Every single one of the old man's students was fighting for their own reputation and I didn't see it until that incident opened my eyes. That's when I learned you can't trust anyone in this world- least of all magicians.” “And yet... You did not exact any sort of revenge until many years later. Not until Trucy Wright announced her plans of a Gramarye revival. What prompted you to act at that time, when you had been living a perfectly content life away from magic for almost thirteen years already?” “Magnifi and his accomplices got their due without my interference. A year after I was dismissed, Thalassa pulled a vanishing act of her own- some say she got hurt while practicing a magic act, just as I did, so Magnifi made his failure of a daughter disappear. A few years later, the old man croaked, Zak took the fall for his murder and Valant was effectively castrated. I thought the Gramarye name was dead and buried, so I made peace with it. That is, until she appeared.” “Trucy Wright?” Simon frowned and sat back in his chair. “Even if she wanted to revive the Gramarye name, she had nothing to do with your disgrace. She was only a young lass at the time.” Reus slammed his hand down on the table quite suddenly and while the fire in his hand had long gone out, it was still in his eyes. “She has the Gramarye blood and she flaunted the name! Trucy in Gramarye Land, indeed! What a joke! She even wanted to drag Mr. Reus into that disaster of a publicity stunt! Over my dead body!” “At that point, you were no longer Mr. Reus,” Athena said with a bit of a scoff. “It was Manov Mistree's decision to make, and so... It was over his dead body. You made sure of that.” “Don't you sit there and judge me, missy! A pipsqueak like you could never understand this all-consuming fire; this need for revenge. Trucy Wright is doomed to be every bit the criminal her parents and grandpappy were. If she isn't already, she will be some day, you mark my words!” While Athena might've huffed at Reus's attitude even further, something held her back. It was the emotion, perhaps, to the man's words. Widget was alternating between blue and red around her neck. “Do you believe,” Simon began, “that the sins of the parents carry into their children? That blood ties limit a person's potential by tying them down?” “Absolutely.” “Then, what of your own parents? Do you believe they set you on a path you could no longer stray from?” “... Ayep. I reckon they did.” “Have they come to see you after you gained a name for yourself? The Ratings Rajah was a big deal, after all.” “Oh, they hunted me down, all right.” A mean smirk appeared on Reus's face, implying he was delighted by the memory rather than horrified. “They came right up to my penthouse, packed bags by their side, asking for money and a place to stay.” “What did you say to them?” Reus took the empty espresso cup and held it between both hands, then pressed his palms together. While Simon had definitely seen the cup crumple under all that pressure, the remains had vanished when Reus pulled his hands apart again. So long as there was magic in this world, who would have need for a trash can? “Nothing. I laughed and slammed the door shut in their faces. What goes around, comes around, right?” he stated with no end to his amusement. With that, Simon considered the interview an official success; they'd learned quite a bit about what had driven Roger Retinz to premeditated murder. All it had cost him was a handful of change and a deck of cards. Applying that knowledge in practice was a whole other matter, but at the very least, they could present results to Lang. Athena must not have been quite satisfied yet, for she looked through the papers and chose another angle of attack. “If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to the topic of Manov Mistree for a bit,” she stated. “As I understand it, he was a big fan of the original Mr. Reus and you happened to learn of that by chance. Instead of ignoring that bit of your past, you revealed yourself to him and made him your apprentice. Why was that?” “Why indeed?” Reus asked, and while it might've been taken as sarcastic, the furrowing of his brow suggested that he was wondering in earnest. He went back to flipping his coin again. “... Maybe I was feeling vindictive. Maybe I wanted Mr. Reus to have one last bit of glory and I didn't care who I had to corrupt in order to get it.” “You believe that you corrupted Mr. Mistree?” “Of course. Such a bright-eyed, optimistic, gullible guy... Not the brightest bulb in the shop, but he was determined to learn. He could've been anything else, really, but he wanted to be a magician so badly. If he hadn't dreamed those foolish dreams, he wouldn't have met such a sticky end.” “And only a criminal could have a knack for deceiving people the way a magician does, hm?” Athena mused aloud. “So what was your relationship with Mr. Mistree like? Did you encourage him to follow his dreams or did you warn him about what it took to be the real deal?” “Oh, I did everything Magnifi refused to do for me. I gave him pats on the back and complimented his progress; the whole good mentor shebang. He ate it up. Never seen anyone more thirsty for approval and boy did he get it.” Simon's gaze flickered towards Athena, then back to Reus. “Did you take advantage of Mistree's adoration?” “You're gonna have to be more specific, pal.” “Did you engage in acts of a sexual nature with him?” “A guy like me, who's constantly surrounded by bikini babes in the studio? You've got some guts, asking me a question like that.” “Yet, you fail to answer.” Reus flicked several coins through the fingers of his left hand. Athena squeaked out of nowhere and hopped up from her chair. The Five of Hearts was pulled out of her boot and impressive as the trick had been, neither herself nor Simon was amused. They both made that clear through their furious expressions, which were all but ignored. “... I did at first,” Reus ultimately admitted, now flipping a coin along the back of his hand from finger to finger. When he caught sight of the look on Athena's face, he tutted. “Don't you worry, I didn't do anything he wasn't into. He was the one taking charge, not me. Took him out to dinner and everything, too. Burger Barn.” “Seriously? All that money, and you take the guy you're sleeping with to Burger Barn?” Athena's disgust reached a whole new low. As for Simon, he was of the opinion that Retinz's cheap nature was the least of his crimes. “Yeah, that really should've tipped him off, shouldn't it? Good old Manny, he was so blinded by the person he thought I was, he couldn't see the trash inside. Lots of expectation for me to live up to. How could I crush his hopes? But after a while, he became more Reus than Manov. That's when I stopped getting my kicks.” Simon's eyes narrowed into a glare. “That turn of events was your own doing. By actively encouraging Mistree's dreams and teaching him your ways, you shaped him into Mr. Reus. Then, when he was close to becoming just like you; a supposed criminal... You could justify butchering him with a clear conscience. He ceased to be a person and instead became a means to an end.” “Seems like it. I created a monster, by which I mean myself, and then I fed that monster to the flames of my revenge in hopes the fire would consume the last shreds of Magnifi's legacy. Fucking tragic.” “If you agree that the mindset is tragic, do you regret what you've done?” Reus stood quite suddenly and threw a card across the room as if it were a ninja star. The corner of it pierced the wall and so, the card remained there. Athena looked impressed. Simon thought the showmanship was quite unnecessary, but then, perhaps it was one of the few outlets Reus still had left. The disgraced magician placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, speaking his next words in a vicious whisper. “I'd kill Manov a hundred times over if it meant I had a chance to be rid of my thirst for revenge. I would need to kill him a hundred times over, because that's what it means to be a fuck-up. … How's that for a psychological profile, Dr. Freud?” To Be Continued

[protectblackchildren]

OVERLOOKED

These remarkable black men and women never received obituaries in The New York Times — until now. We’re adding their stories to our project about prominent people whose deaths were not reported by the newspaper.

Since 1851, The New York Times has published thousands of obituaries, capturing the lives and legacies of people who have influenced the world in which we live.

But many important figures were left out.

Overlooked reveals the stories of some of those remarkable people.

We started the series last year by focusing on women like Sylvia Plath, the postwar poet; Emma Gatewood, the hiking grandmother who captivated a nation; and Ana Mendieta, the Cuban artist whose work was bold, raw and sometimes violent. We added to that collection each week.

Now, this special edition of Overlooked highlights a prominent group of black men and women whose lives we did not examine at the time of their deaths.

Many of them were a generation removed from slavery. They often attempted to break the same barriers again and again. Sometimes they made myth out of a painful history, misrepresenting their past to gain a better footing in their future. Some managed to achieve success in their lifetimes, only to die penniless, buried in unmarked graves. But all were pioneers, shaping our world and making paths for future generations.

We hope you’ll spread the word about Overlooked — and tell us who else we missed.

Read about the project’s first year, and use this form to nominate a candidate for future Overlooked obits.

1907-1960

Gladys Bentley

A gender-bending blues performer who became 1920s Harlem royalty.

BY GIOVANNI RUSSONELLO

When it comes to loosening social mores, progress that isn’t made in private has often taken place onstage.

That was certainly the case at the Clam House, a Prohibition-era speakeasy in Harlem, where Gladys Bentley, one of the boldest performers of her era, held court.

READ MORE

1867-1917

Scott Joplin

A pianist and ragtime master who wrote “The Entertainer” and the groundbreaking opera “Treemonisha.”

BY WIL HAYGOOD

When Scott Joplin’s father left the North Carolina plantation where he had been born a slave, there was one thing he wanted to hold on to: the echoes of the Negro spirituals he had heard in the fields. In those songs he found a sense of uplift, hope and possibility.

In the post-Civil War era, the cruel breath of slavery and the aborted plan of Reconstruction still hung over the American South. But in the Joplin home, banjo and fiddle music filled the family’s evenings, giving the children — Scott in particular — a sense of music’s power to move.

READ MORE

1834-1858

Margaret Garner

In one soul-chilling moment, she killed her own daughter rather than return her to the horrors of slavery.

BY REBECCA CARROLL

Margaret garner, who was born as an enslaved girl, almost certainly did not plan to kill her child when she grew up and became an enslaved mother.

But she also couldn’t yet know that the physical, emotional and psychological violence of slavery, relentless and horrific, would one day conspire to force her maternal judgment in a moment already fraught with grave imperative.

READ MORE

1878-1932

Major Taylor

A world champion bicycle racer whose fame was undermined by prejudice.

BY RANDAL C. ARCHIBOLD

More than 100 years ago, one of the most popular spectator sports in the world was bicycle racing, and one of the most popular racers was a squat, strapping man with bulging thighs named Major Taylor.

He set records in his teens and was a world champion at 20. He traveled the globe, racing as far away as Australia, and amassed wealth among the greatest of any athlete of his time. Thousands of people flocked to see him; newspapers fawned over him.

READ MORE

1905-2001

Zelda Wynn Valdes

A fashion designer who outfitted the glittery stars of screen and stage.

BY TANISHA C. FORD

More than a half century before a “curvy” model made the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, and before hashtags like #allbodiesaregoodbodies, there was a designer who knew that it was the job of clothes to fit the woman, not vice versa.

Zelda Wynn Valdes was a designer to the stars who could fit a dress to a body of any size — even if she had to do so just by looking at the client. “I only fit her once in 12 years,” Valdes told The New York Times in 1994 of her long-time client Ella Fitzgerald, “I had to do everything by imagination for her.” Valdes would simply look at Fitzgerald in the latest paper, noting any changes in her full-figured body, and would design the elaborate gowns — with beads and appliques — that she knew Fitzgerald loved.

READ MORE

1941-1970

Alfred Hair

A charismatic businessman who created a movement for Florida’s black artists.

BY GORDON K. HURD

“Well-Known Artist Alfred Hair Slain,” read the headline in The Fort Pierce News Tribune newspaper in Florida.

But before he was killed in a barroom brawl on Aug. 9, 1970, at just 29, Hair had become more than just an artist. With his drive, charisma and business acumen, he helped start a collective of Floridian artists, all African-American, who painted vibrant landscapes of their home state. They would later come to be known as The Florida Highwaymen, or more simply The Highwaymen.

READ MORE

1912-1967

Nina Mae McKinney

An actress who defied the barrier of race to find stardom in Europe.

BY ANITA GATES

About 20 minutes into “Hallelujah,” Hollywood’s first all-sound feature with an all-black cast, Nina Mae McKinney appeared on screen as Chick, a singer and dancer, in a sexy flapper dress.

She had flashing eyes, an armful of jangly bracelets, and no qualms about cheating a handsome young cotton farmer out of the money he had just gotten for his family’s crop.

READ MORE

1856-1910

Granville T. Woods

An inventor known as the ‘Black Edison.’ He found that recognition came at a hefty price.

BY AMISHA PADNANI

He carefully sealed the drawings in a mailing tube and quietly placed them out of sight from his business partner, then went to a meeting.

But when he returned, Granville T. Woods found that his drawings — a design for a novel invention that held the potential to revolutionize transportation around the world — were gone.

READ MORE

1884-1951

Oscar Micheaux

A pioneering filmmaker prefiguring independent directors like Spike Lee and Tyler Perry.

BY MONICA DRAKE

Almost as soon as you settle in to watch the 1939 melodrama “Lying Lips,” you can figure out who is the victim, who is the villain and who is the hero. And even if you know how it all will end, you want to watch anyway.

That was the beauty of the filmmaker Oscar Micheaux. He made you want to soak up the exuberance he clearly felt in delivering a whole new way of telling stories.

READ MORE

1814-1907

Mary Ellen Pleasant

Born into slavery, she became a Gold Rush-era millionaire and a powerful abolitionist.

BY VERONICA CHAMBERS

When the abolitionist John Brown was hanged on Dec. 2, 1859, for murder and treason, a note found in his pocket read, “The ax is laid at the foot of the tree. When the first blow is struck, there will be more money to help.” Officials most likely believed it was written by a wealthy Northerner who had helped fund Brown’s attempt to incite, and arm, an enormous slave uprising by taking over an arsenal at Harpers Ferry in Virginia. No one suspected that the note was written by a black woman named Mary Ellen Pleasant.

In 1901, an elderly Pleasant dictated her autobiography to the journalist Sam Davis. As Lynn Hudson writes in the book “The Making of ‘Mammy Pleasant’: A Black Entrepreneur in Nineteenth-Century San Francisco,” Pleasant told Davis, “Before I pass away, I wish to clear the identity of the party who furnished John Brown with most of his money to start the fight at Harpers Ferry and who signed the letter found on him when he was arrested.” The sum she donated was $30,000 — almost $900,000 in today’s dollars.

READ MORE

1827-1901

Elizabeth Jennings

Life experiences primed her to fight for racial equality. Her moment came on a streetcar ride to church.

BY SAM ROBERTS

Because she was running behind one Sunday morning, Elizabeth Jennings turned out to be a century ahead of her time.

She was a teacher in her 20s, on her way to the First Colored American Congregational Church in Lower Manhattan, where she was the regular organist, when a conductor ordered her off a horse-drawn Third Avenue trolley and told her to wait for a car reserved for black passengers.

READ MORE

1876-1917

Philip A. Payton Jr.

A real estate magnate who turned Harlem into a black mecca.

BY ADEEL HASSAN

“Human hives, honeycombed with little rooms thick with human beings,” is how a white journalist and co-founder of the N.A.A.C.P., Mary White Ovington, described the filthy tenements that black New Yorkers were relegated to at the turn of the 20th century.

As more rural Southerners arrived in the city, the teeming Manhattan slums in which African-Americans were living had become the most densely populated streets in the city, nearly 5,000 people per block, according to one count, as landlords rented almost exclusively to white tenants.

READ MORE

1857-1924

Moses Fleetwood Walker

The first black baseball player in the big leagues, even before Jackie Robinson.

BY RICHARD GOLDSTEIN

When Jackie Robinson joined the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947, becoming the first African-American player in modern major league baseball, he was not only a trailblazer in the sports world, but an inspiring figure in the modern civil rights movement.

But Robinson was not the first ballplayer in the long history of big league baseball known to be an African-American. That distinction belongs to Moses Fleetwood Walker.

READ MORE

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/obituaries/black-history-month-overlooked.html?smtyp=cur&smid=tw-nytimes

[wowiejimin]

Safe - Chapter 1

This is a rewrite of my previous fic, “Safe”, after almost a year of publishing it and not working on it ever since, I’ve come back to it but with a slightly new plot :) Enjoy!

I’ve made a hashtag under “wowiejimin safe fic” just to make it easier to find :)

Pairing: Gang Member!Jimin x Weak Heart!Genius!Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance, Lots of Action, Humor, Fluff, & Smut (In the Future)

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Death, Smut (In the Future), Drugs, Drug Injection, Needles, IDK JUST A LOT OF TORTURE YKNOW OMG

Members Included: All of BTS, other KPop groups in the future

Chapter List Next Chapter

In his world, being a part of a mafia gang, known as Bangtan Boys, is a bit terrifying. They were truly a filthy rich and powerful group that everyone feared. 22-year old Jimin was described as the stealthiest and most skilled member of Bangtan, playing an important part in their group. Whereas for 20-year-old (Y/N), a genius with a weak heart is suffering inside the cruel world as she is punished and experimented on the daily basis. Jimin finds himself protecting a gifted girl whose memory can hold numerous things in a blink of an eye. Jimin finds an interest in her, visioning that she may be a valuable asset to their group. Jimin has never paid attention to girls. However, that started to change when he met her.

The young woman was thrown to the ground, grunting in pain. The man then punched her in the stomach, growling before grabbing her upper arm, sitting her down in front of his boss, also known as the leader of the Void. He stared at her unamusingly, “You’re lying to me.” She shook her head, “I’m not.” She replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear–!” She rambled and he cut her off, shaking his head, “You’re lying, and if you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll be using that lighter over there and use it on your body.” He threatened as her breath hitched. The leader then took out a sheet of paper, holding up a pen to her face, “For the last time, give me the numbers.” He yelled, slamming the pen down on the desk, making every other object on the desk shake.

A FEW DAYS EARLIER ~

Loud cries filled the porcelain white hall, “N-No!” The young woman cried as the two men, carrying her by her fragile arms, dragged her towards the one room she despised the most. The Injection Room is what she calls it.

(Y/N) whimpered as they strapped her to the bed, stopping her from escaping. “A-Appa!” She screamed, “Please–!” She was cut off as the men wrapped her mouth with duct tape. Her muffled cries bounced off the walls and echoed in the hallway. The man whom she called Appa looked down at her, the syringe in his hand. She stared at the sharp and thick needle, little droplets of the drug oozing out. She took short breaths as the man smiled, covering her eyes with his free hand before roughly stabbing the thick and long needle into her neck.

Muffled screams and cries came out of the young woman’s taped mouth. The man slowly injected the substance into her before pulling the needle out. Although he finished, the muffled cries continued. The man nodded at his men as they all left the room, turning off the lights, leaving the woman in the dark alone.

(Y/N) loud screams slowly got quieter and quieter and she felt her body twitch. Her eyes then rolled back, closing her eyes shut. She couldn’t even hear her own sobs, couldn’t feel her hot tears run down her flushed cheeks. 

Her body was intensified with burning sensations yet she felt cold.

~/~

Tired.

It was the only word that could come up, close to describing her current feeling. Her whole body felt frozen to the point she couldn’t imagine on ever moving again.

Deep breathes were only heard in her cell as she huddled her small body into the very corner of the room, shivering as she stayed away from the door as much as possible.

“You did absolutely amazing today, (Y/N).” The husky and rugged voice echoed in her cell as the man let out a little chuckle. “I’ve won thousands because of you.” He said, looking at the girl.

(Y/N) looked at the man who was her so-called father. (Y/N) didn’t do anything but stare back at the man with slightly terrified eyes. (Y/N) referred him to as Appa as he was the only person who kinda took care of her since she was abducted.

She wasn’t referred by her own name but was labelled as Tiny by the others as she was rather smaller than the rest of the test subjects. Although she was small, she was a genius. Her greatest strength lied in her intelligence.

(Y/N) shivered as the man chuckled once more before shutting the door, leaving the young woman in complete darkness.

She remembered the day she was taken away from her mother, never seeing her again after that.

(Y/N) wrote an equation on the board, correcting her teachers work, “Try it the other way, it adds up to 467. Only one answer is correct.” She erased her work on the board and turned to her teacher, “I mean no disrespect, Mrs. Soong, but your calculations are wrong.” The other students in the class giggled and the flustered teacher glared at the younger girl, “Office.” She says and everyone stopped. (Y/N) widens her eyes and obeyed anyway.

The principal sighed and twiddled with a pen. “Ms. (Y/N)…” He started, “We’ll be moving you to another school.” (Y/N) gasped, “Wait, what–”

“(Y/N), you’re smart, a genius. Truly a gifted child. You have to go to an appropriate school. You’ll make new friends.”

~/~

“Don’t be sad, (Y/N). We’ll always be your friends. I hear the kids in Daegu are cool, you’ll have a good time there.” Her friend reassured. (Y/N) was originally from Busan, but knowing that she’ll be moving to Daegu made her nervous. (Y/N) and her friends walked on the busy streets, coming home from school. (Y/N) sighs, “I don’t even like numbers. I like it here. I don’t want new friends.” She whined and her friend laughed, “Of course. But don’t worry, I’ll send you a letter every week.” (Y/N)’s face lit up, “You promise?”

“Of course. Think you want me to miss out on having a famous friend? It’s going to be great, (Y/N).” (Y/N) smiled up at her friend. Suddenly, a hand grasped her wrist and started to drag her away from her friend. “(Y/N)!” He screamed and the mysterious man shoved (Y/N) into the car, driving away. The young girl panicked, looking around. “Hold tight, kid.” The man smirked and they drove off to a peculiar place.

Within 20 minutes or so, they arrived at their destination. The man who grabbed her guided her to a building and led her to an office. A man in his 20’s was seated in front of a wooden desk and smiled. "Ah, (Y/N)!” He stood up and pointed at a girl her age, who sat in the corner of the room. “This is my niece, Soohyun. Recognise her?” He asked and she nodded, “S-She’s in my class.” The man nodded, “She says your mind is like a computer. We spoke to your teacher and she said the same thing. That’s why you’re here.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, “Lovely girl.” He mumbled as he grazed his finger softly on her chin. (Y/N) grimaced in disgust and he sighed, “Computers are so annoying.” He walks to his desk and smiled, “They say what you learn you never forget, is that so?” He asked and she shook her head, afraid of what was going to happen.

The man grew furious. He had an abacus calculator set on his desk and mixed the beads around randomly, “Then we will go to your home and kill your mother for making such a stupid girl!” He shouted making (Y/N) jump. He sat down and (Y/N) felt the tears welling up.

She had always known that her mother was always so ill. All (Y/N) knew is that her mother participated in projects as a test subject until she was pregnant with her. And with her being a part of a project, handling with tons of drugs and stress, (Y/N) was born with a weak heart. Other than that, her mother was all she had.

She quickly ran to the calculator and solved the problem as fast as she could. Within seconds, she finished. The man smirked, slowly clapping his hands. “So they are telling the truth. Mrs Soong said your father ran away when you were very little, left your mother, and your mother is very ill.” He looked at her as she held her tears in. “Soon you will be all alone. Do you want that?” (Y/N) slowly shook her head and he smiled, standing up. “Then we will take good care of your mother,” He turned to the man that drove her here. “This is Banjo, your new father. He’ll take you to Seoul, where you will count for us.”

It’s been almost 10 years since she’s been taken away. Now at 20-years-old, (Y/N) was trained by the man, Banjo whom she called Appa, in the laboratory through tests and experiments.

She was a subject of at least eight experiments which involved violent and unpleasant doings. (Y/N) tried her absolute best not to fail through these fights or experiments. But if she were to fail even just by a little bit, (Y/N) would be dragged into and locked in a cell with other punished test subjects for great periods of time with no food. She whimpered at the thought, remembering that there was a dead body present in the same room, probably died due to starvation.

This caused an experience of which severely scared (Y/N) with a fear of confinement and loneliness.

(Y/N)‘s breath hitched as she searched for warmth in her body. She winced as she gently grazed over a slightly swollen area on her back from a brutal whipping.

The things (Y/N) had to do with Banjo was absolutely tiresome and scary. After receiving many doses of the drugs, she was sent to underground gambling parties, using her intelligence to win the man tons of money. Sometimes she is even used for underground fights as a scrapper.

She was trained under a man to learn how to fight, who Banjo hired. But as soon as her trainer was killed by Banjo’s men for helping (Y/N) escape, she has been teaching herself.

Although her intelligence was her greatest strength, it doesn’t mean her physical strength is as powerful. However, her combat skills are shown to be more or less average, and she has yet to be shown successfully killing a target.

(Y/N) is noted as being one of the quickest test subjects mentally and physically when it came to problem-solving or fights. She is so fast that her fights only last a few seconds. As she can easily outmanoeuvre them, she is a very difficult target for others to catch, thus her agility and balance making up for her strength.

(Y/N) sighed before closing her eyes slowly, lifting them up every few seconds whenever a sudden noise was heard. All she had in her cell was a small tray of food and herself, tucked into the very corner of the room.

(Y/N) truly did not like to fight or use her intelligence for something that is not useful for her own being. At least in a way where thousands of people are bidding on you and where you’re forced to gamble or fight others in order survive or to not get punished.

She didn’t think that her life with her so-called new father would be like this. She thought far from that until he stuck the needle into her neck for the first time when she was only 11-years-old.

Not only that, but she had a weak heart. She knew was that her mother was a test subject as well and once she gave birth to her, (Y/N) was born with something called Heart Murmur. Although it wasn’t a disease, it may indicate an underlying heart problem.

(Y/N) hissed quietly, feeling the agonizing pain in her chest, placing both her hands to help ease the pain. The man that practically controlled her did nothing to help with her weak heart. But they did mention that they indeed put something to help ease the side effects of her weak heart in the drugs. However, (Y/N) thinks otherwise, knowing it’s only making it worse.

The fragile woman let out a cough before closing her eyes shut, hoping that the time before her next event gives her enough time to rest and heal.

~/~

(Y/N) sighed, rolling her side, placing a hand on her heart, slightly feeling the uneven heartbeat on her palm. She sweated nervously, waiting for the doctor. Once every two weeks, (Y/N) is checked up by the doctor and to hear if there was any other way to cure her heart problem. There was one way, but they deemed it was too risky. A valve replacement.

For as long as she could remember, her heart was in terrible condition ever since she was born. In short, she was born with an abnormal heartbeat, meaning abnormal heart murmur. It was the abnormal sounds of the heart due to turbulent blood flow. And that’s what (Y/N) had. Although there were innocent and harmless types of heart murmur, she just had to get the worst one, abnormal.

With the medicine she received, taking an anticoagulant, such as aspirin or warfarin, preventing blood clots from forming in her heart and causing a heart attack or stroke.

And finally, the doctor came in with a blank face. She hasn’t always liked him. Ever since she found out that he was the one who recommended the drugs, she despised his whole existence.

“There’s no other treatment, is there?” She asked quietly. The doctor shook his head, sitting down on a chair next to the hospital bed. The doctor takes out his stethoscope, lifting the earbuds to his ears and the chest-piece to her chest. (Y/N) watched as he listens to her heartbeat with bored eyes.

The doctor lets out a sigh before documenting notes on his clipboard. “It seems like everything is just fine, for now at least. You’re still going to have to use those anticoagulants, however. Although it seems like your heart is slowly shutting down.” He says as (Y/N) slowly sat up.

“Well, if it weren’t for those drugs that are constantly being injected into my body I would be perfectly fine right now.” She mumbled. The doctor says nothing but hands her a new bottle of medications. “Instead of taking one per day, take two.” He says before walking out.

And that’s how (Y/N)’s checkups went. They were short and boring but at least she knew how she was doing.

(Y/N) gave out a sad sigh, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. Who was she kidding, there was no way that she was getting better. Although the medication she was given actually worked, the injected drugs, the stress and pressure from the constant gambling and fighting worn her out more. Especially when it came to punishment, it was hard. Not being fed for a couple of days, not being able to take your medication and kept in a dark room for who knows how long. 

She shivered at the thought before closing her eyes, nuzzling her face into the somewhat comfortable bed. It wasn’t the best bed to sleep in, but it was by far the best thing she has ever slept on for the last 10 years.

~/~

PRESENT ~

(Y/N) sat in her dark cell; staring up at the ceiling as she chewed on the rock-hard bread she was given for breakfast. After scarfing down the bland bread, she opened her pill bottle, taking two of the small pills, swallowing them down dry. 

Suddenly, her door was opened as Banjo stood at the doorway with clothes in his hand, “(Y/N),” Banjo called and she looked at him from where she sat, “Mr. Han is here. Remember him?” He asked and she nodded, “The man that started all this.” She mumbled, referring to her life as of right now. Banjo then held up an outfit, “Take a quick shower and then change into these.” He threw the plastic bag of clothes to her chest, leaving.

(Y/N) scoffed before walking out of the cell, making her way towards the showers with two security guards following closely, making sure that she won’t escape. During her life here, all she wore was a hospital gown. But when it came to fighting or gambling, she wore something more appropriate for those events.

She locked the door behind her, placing the set of clothes on the counter before stripping the gown off her small body. She then turned on the shower, rinsing herself with the cold water.

She sighed, continuing to get ready.

~/~

After a few minutes, (Y/N) walked in wearing a simple black circle skirt and a white button down short sleeve shirt. Mr. Han smiled widely, “Ah, (Y/N), you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” He says walking towards her before guiding her to a table.

It’s been almost 10 years since she last saw him which was right before she came to the laboratory when she was just 10-years-old.

He pulled out a sheet of paper, placing it in front of (Y/N). (Y/N) scanned the sheet, noting that it was just full of numbers. “I want you to take this to your room and I want you to memorise it. Then—“

“I’ve memorised it.” She says and Mr. Han looked at her surprised, “(Y-Y/N), this is a very important number. For your mother’s sake, answer me carefully.”  He stared at her in the eyes, “Are you sure you’ve memorised it?” He asked and she nodded, “I’m positive. I can tell you without looking at it.” (Y/N) says with a blank face as Mr. Han chuckled.

Banjo came in with a smirk, joining the two, “If she says she remembers it, she remembers it.” He looked at her as she stared at him with slightly furrowed brows, “I can vouch for that.” Mr. Han chuckled, “Then I have an important job for you.” He turned to the young woman, taking the sheet of paper, crumpling it and throwing it into the fireplace, burning it.

~/~

They all left the laboratory, Banjo guiding (Y/N). Missions like these were normal to her, memorising many numbers and solving puzzles for Banjo. However, she never really knew why.

It’s been a long time since (Y/N) has seen the sun. Most of the time when she was out with Banjo, it was either midnight or it was raining.

She smiled softly, looking at the bright blue sky, loving the feeling of the warm sun on her skin.

“These are your instructions; Banjo will take you to a man who has the second set of numbers. You will memorise it and then you’ll be taken to another location where your final instructions are given.” Mr. Han instructed. (Y/N) only nodded, understanding the plan.

(Y/N) sat in the back of the car with Banjo and the rest of his men.

Banjo looked at her with a smile, “You’re learning fast, kid.” Is all he says before a van crashes into their car. The window was shattered and the glass shards stuck to everyone’s skin. Men then came out of the strange van, shooting their guns at the car they were in.

(Y/N) panicked, “W-What’s happening?” She muttered to herself as a gun was pointed at her face. She widens her eyes at Banjo, who looked at her with wide eyes as well. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let them have you,” Banjo says before a bullet was shot at the windshield, stopping him from killing (Y/N).

(Y/N) gasped and quickly got out of the car while Banjo was distracted, only to be grabbed by another man she didn’t recognize. More cars came into the scene, killing the rest of Banjo’s men. (Y/N) yelped and desperately tried to escape, only to have the man to hit her by the grip of the gun, throwing her into the van.

==

jimin will be making an appearance in the next chapter !! :3 thank you for reading ~~

[zorume-star]

I posted 529 times in 2021

13 posts created (2%)

516 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 39.7 posts.

I added 61 tags in 2021

#one piece - 9 posts

#hopepunk - 8 posts

#ace - 7 posts

#fanzine - 6 posts

#ace pride - 6 posts

#punk - 6 posts

#roronoa zoro - 5 posts

#asexuality - 5 posts

#ace week - 5 posts

#perona - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#so in many classes i didn't do the homework at home but in the first minutes fo class and just didn't do it at all depending on the teacher

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Thanks hopepunk community for all the beautiful posts on Tumblr.

I'm pretty sure I'm in depression, and that I've actually been in depression for 3 years now, just wouldn't see it, and a few weeks ago I discovered hopepunk. Reading all the posts warmed my heart, got me to tears sometimes, made me smile, and the best thing ? I crafted and wrote and did things I stopped to do for months or years.

After all those hopeless years, I finally have something to soothe my mind and remind me that hope keeps us alive and makes us do great things. All I need is hope for the future to finally see that I can choose from many paths. That I can still do good around me and that it'll be worth it. That kindness and hope and community are everything that capitalism and patriarchy and all those fucking bad systems fear.

Let's fight the damn depression off and start doing good around me.

So yeah, thank you hopepunk community. Your posts are appreciated.

6 notes • Posted 2021-10-11 12:26:55 GMT

#4

If you're a filthy little queer anar punk like me (or honestly, just a regular human that works too), you may like those tips and ideas and links :

Quit big social medias, they're made to be addictive so you stay on the app and it give them money. Also they rely on things that make you angry and hurt to make you stay on the app.

Instead join free open-source community-driven social medias and platforms instead (suggesting Fediverse). With a real moderation and instance made by people just like you. Double-check your instance before joining though !

Rediscover the web outside what you can get from the GAFAM with those linkrolls and search websites : • • • • •

Read this article about "laziness" and why the researcher think it actually doesn't exist. Good vibes and positivity at the end of the read guaranteed.

Do something you used to do as a kid. Play with toys, craft, climb to trees, sing out loud in your room, cook pastries, read your fav books again. For me it was crafting and I just customized the cover of my little sketchbook and it felt sooo good !

Check out this list of leftist zines !

Remember to take some time to go out. In the morning it helps a lot to start your day. And to open your windows to change the air inside.

Your friends for researches : Sci-Hub and 12ftLadder.

In you need to know that anarchy works, read this.

Learn something new with those explorable explanations. It's awesome !

Just go through the "hopepunk" hashtag here on Tumblr if you feel hopeless, hate yourself, are depressed, feel sad today... Honestly it just feel so good and I cried and smiled a lot scrolling through this and I feel so much better since I know this.

Remember to breathe slowly and unclench your body sweethearts !

Please if you have linkrolls or other awesome articles, websites etc... to share... well, share it in the comments and I'll add them ! Or reblog with your links, as you wish.

A lot of love for you all here. You're great and deserve some love and hugs !

30 notes • Posted 2021-10-18 14:46:40 GMT

#3

What would you do if you had a basic income that could cover housing and food and basically living ?

I know a lot of us are afraid of the future. Because we live in a world where we need money just to survive, but we also know those jobs aren't the thing the world need right now.

So tell me, what kind of business/job/activity would you do if you didn't have to worry about money to survive ? Tell us everything. Go wild.

89 notes • Posted 2021-10-25 13:45:23 GMT

#2

I feel SO much better since I've discovered "solarpunk" and then "hopepunk", a few weeks ago. I've also stopped Twitter a week ago. I got back to creative things. I wrote for the first time in months. I tried myself on a mini-fanzine. I tried to fix my old ideas notebook. I created a terrarium, took care of plants.

I feel better. So much better. I'm in depression, I'm pretty sure of that, and I got a psychiatrist appointment in a month.

But thanks solarpunk and hopepunk. And thanks me for getting outta Twitter and limiting myself to Mastodon, Artfol and Tumblr. I have much more hope and positivie vibes in my life now, and it feels so good.

I have hope for the future now. I don't know where I go. I still don't know what kind of job I could do. But at least I got hope and music and craft to keep me alive now.

129 notes • Posted 2021-10-10 12:00:38 GMT

#1

Write for yourself. Draw for yourself. Craft for yourself. Sing for yourself. Dance for yourself. Do anything creative for yourself, if it makes you happy.

I know it's hard sometimes because we want to share our stories and crafts with the world, and we end up having expectations and want to please the world, and eventually loose the happiness of creating.

Take that back. Create for yourself. Show it to the world if you want to. Some people may love it and follow you. And that's awesome ! But the only expectation you need to have is please yourself first. Do what makes you happy.

324 notes • Posted 2021-10-15 08:05:07 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[i-am-very-very-tired]

For years, women have struggled to gain equality in all areas of life—from the home to the workplace, and especially in positions of leadership. Despite being 50.8 percent of the population, only 14.6 percent of executive officers in companies are women, and overall, women only earn 80 cents for every dollar men make. These discrepancies are even larger among women of color. Yet women of faith have historically played a pivotal role in challenging gender inequality, and they continue to defy stereotypes in politics, the workplace, and houses of worship. Here are five ways in which women of faith are fighting for gender equality at work and in broader society—empowering young women as feminist and womanist theologians, faith community leaders, social justice advocates, and elected officials.

1. Shaping and elevating feminist theology

Feminist and womanist theologians exist in every religion, actively engaging in efforts to achieve gender equality from a perspective of faith and making clear that women’s equality and faith are not inconsistent with one another. Challenging misunderstandings or misinterpretations of religious texts that have justified segregating society along gender lines, feminist theologians have surfaced the issue of gender inequality in religious communities. For example, Native American feminist Renya Ramirez wrote an article proposing that gender equality be part of any conversation about the oppression of Native American communities, and she challenges the gender-discriminatory practices that some indigenous nations have traditionally followed. Zainah Anwar also empowers women of faith as a founding member and director of the organization Sisters in Islam, which seeks to teach gender equality through an Islamic framework. In addition, the Sikh Feminist Research Institute exists to engage the Sikh community in feminist research to understand further the causes of gender-based oppression and how to combat it.

In the early 1970s, several Jewish feminists created the social justice group Ezrat Nashim in an effort to give men and women “equal access” to leadership roles within the Jewish community. María Pilar Aquino, a pioneer in the field of Latina feminist theology as a professor of religious studies, has authored more than 50 works on Latina rights, including Our Cry for Life: Feminist Theology from Latin America. Finally, bell hooks, a Buddhist Christian expert on womanism—a form of feminism centering on black women’s liberation—has written numerous essays and books analyzing the effects of racism, sexism, and spirituality on black women and feminist movements.

2. Holding leadership positions in faith communities

In 2012, only 11 percent of American congregations were led by women, and today, only 1 of the 100 largest churches in the United States is led by a woman, due in large part to institutionalized patriarchal models of leadership present in many houses of worship. More women of faith are redefining leadership in their houses of worship, providing important role models for young congregants and pushing to transform gender inequality from within their religious traditions. Bishop Vashti McKenzie was the first woman head of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, a role in which she encouraged and empowered women to grow professionally and attain leadership positions. Sally Jane Priesand was the first woman in the United States to be ordained as a rabbi and has worked in the Central Conference of American Rabbis’ Task Force on Women to help more women become ordained in the Reform Jewish movement.

Some of the largest and most historically significant churches today are led by women, such as Amy Butler, the first woman pastor of The Riverside Church. “Any time we can see women in roles of leadership doing good work … we’re changing people’s perception and chipping away at the patriarchy we all live with,” Butler says. She often uses her platform to speak out about women’s issues including abortion and sexual harassment. Rabi’a Keeble and M. Hasna Maznavi—founders of the first two female-run mosques in the country—have created their own communities of faith, where they saw a need for more gender-inclusive houses of worship. It is imperative that women continue to take the helm of faith-based organizations and communities, so that female congregants will feel more comfortable sharing their experiences as religious women.

3. Fighting against sexual harassment in religious communities

Over the past year, there have been numerous complaints of pervasive and persistent sexual harassment to which no industry has been immune, including faith communities. According to a recent survey, 81 percent of women and 43 percent of men experience sexual harassment at some point in their lives. Building on the #MeToo movement, which aims to destigmatize survivors of sexual violence, Hannah Paasch and Emily Joy created the #ChurchToo movement on Twitter. #ChurchToo gives victims a platform to share their stories of sexual abuse in religious spaces. Paasch states, “for those who felt themselves silenced and their experiences erased, this hashtag is meant to be a place where survivors are heard, believed, seen and surrounded,” as well as hold churches accountable for their actions. In response to this campaign, Belinda Bauman and Lisa Sharon Harper started the movement #SilenceIsNotSpiritual to urge evangelical congregations and leaders to elevate and show solidarity with the voices of those affected by sexual assault.

Popular evangelical leader Jen Hatmaker has openly taken a stand against leaders who have committed sexual assault, telling abusers, “You will not be covered by … your clergy robes … your powerful position … Let this filthy, evil system that protects abusers fall to shreds.” As more women of faith share their stories and create platforms for others to do the same, houses of worship will continue to take steps to reform their sexual harassment policies.

4. Serving in public offices from underrepresented religions

Elected officials that practice a religion other than Christianity are grossly underrepresented in local, state, and federal levels of government. For example, 91 percent of Congress identifies as Christian, while Jews make up only 6 percent, Buddhists make up 3 percent, Muslims make up 2 percent, and Hindus make up 3 percent. Today, the number of women running for elected office is increasing at an unprecedented rate, including women from underrepresented religions. Muslim women are filling legislative positions across the country and advocating for policies to help women in their faith community and beyond: Ilhan Omar (D-MN) made history in 2016 as the first Somali American legislator in the country when she was elected to the Minnesota House of Representatives, where she successfully advocated for paid parental leave for city employees to increase support for working families.

At the federal level, Sen. Mazie Hirono (D-HI) was the first Asian American woman and first Buddhist woman elected to the U.S. Senate. Earlier in her career, she founded the Patsy T. Mink Political Action Committee (PAC) with the goal of helping elect pro-choice women to Hawaii state offices. As an Obama administration appointee, Farah Pandith was the U.S. State Department’s first special representative to Muslim communities, where she led initiatives to help Muslim youth feel more accepted in society in an effort to reduce extremism. She also led the State Department’s Women in Public Service Project, a program to help women become the next academic, foreign policy, and advocacy leaders through learning institutes and mentorship.

5. Leading advocacy for immigrants and refugees

Since early 2017, the Trump administration has launched a slew of attacks on immigrants: removing protections for hundreds of thousands of immigrants, including asylum seekers and long-term U.S. residents; detaining and deporting parents of U.S.-citizen children; and continuously targeting some of the most vulnerable people. In response to increased deportations, women of faith have called for immigrant justice in their local communities and beyond. Social justice activists such as Stosh Cotler— who helped organize a day of action for the Muslim and Jewish communities in solidarity with immigrants—were arrested at the U.S. Capitol while demanding renewed protection for Dreamers. Bishop Minerva Carcaño was not only the first Hispanic woman elected as a bishop to the United Methodist Church, but she has also long advocated for immigrant rights, even testifying before Congress.

Today, approximately 50 percent of refugees worldwide are women and girls seeking safety and economic opportunity in new countries. In their journeys toward refuge, they are often vulnerable to sex trafficking, in which 96 percent of victims are women and girls. Yet faith leaders such as Nadia Murad Basee Taha are fighting to ensure the safety and success of these affected communities. After escaping Islamic State captivity, Taha became a Yazidi human rights advocate and is now the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime Goodwill Ambassador for Human Trafficking. She has testified on the international stage to raise awareness for the disproportionate vulnerability young women face in areas of extreme violence and called on international organizations to help stop the violence against her community. In addition, poet and author Rafeef Ziadah uses her writing to advocate for human rights and women’s rights in areas of war, especially Palestine.

Conclusion

The historical contributions and leadership of women in religious communities are paramount. While the fight for women’s equality has persisted for years, there remains much room for progress. Women faith leaders are defying the limitations that society has historically placed on them in houses of worship, politics, activism, and society more broadly. Moving forward, women will continue to rise in all areas of public life, and in faith communities in particular, as an integral part of the rising tide of women’s leadership and the continuing fight for gender equality.

[earthquacksugarskull-blog]

#vanlife - not just a hastag

Hi there,

I am EarthQuackSugarSkull and I am a Filmmaker born and bred in London, currently residing in the north of England and loving it. just luvvinit. I moved to South Africa when I was 18 with my mum, to explore the world, travel, grow and ended up studying my BA in filmmaking in Durban. After I completed my course I moved to The North and now... here I am.

So here is my life at the moment: I am a part-time Postgraduate Filmmaking student, meaning I have school and lectures one day a week, though the majority of my course is ‘self-motivated’...ugh... which translates to: Do it yourself. Good luck. SO I am currently working on 2 films, one which is on pause to make way for the other one, which I am making progress with and hope to screen it at an exhibition at the end of June 2018. I try to leave 2-3 days a week (including school) to dedicate completely to working on the film. I also work 4-5 shifts a week at a pub, most of which are night shifts.... which makes waking up early... challenging, especially after working several nights in a row... after the 4th night I do nothing but sleep the next day...I work to make money for the film - the props, paying actors and crew, any location payments, travel expenses and festival entries. While I have managed to scrounge a little extra here and there, the film’s main budget comes from my work at the pub. I enjoy the job, don't get me wrong, but it isn't what I want to be doing. the late nights, constantly being ill from picking up snotty tissues, smelling like an alcoholic, walking home alone at night... there are many things I dislike about the job which... at this point in my life and after 6 years in the industry, I am ready to move away from. 

I consider my other skills: videography, photography, sound mixing, editing and other filmy stuff and apply for those jobs in my area. I find a couple but most of them are for a month or two at the most, and are paid in exposure bucks which are all very cute but don't pay the bills... furthermore the majority of work that I can get at my level are in London, for sporadic amounts of time at sporadic times and are also paid in exposure bucks or not enough to cover travel expenses and staying somewhere etc... so I consider: what about a regular job, an office job? tried it. hated it. furthermore, because of the film all of my spare money is going into the film and I certainly canNOT afford to survive the dreaded first month of a new job whatever it may be... so I find myself in a predicament.

I am writing this rather long-winded post because I just wanted to get this out. I have always been in love the classic VW surfer duuuuuude camper van, in particular the red ones.... luvvem. just... luvvem. And now all these damn beautiful millennial vegan yuppies are all up in them...GADDAMN IT MAKES ME MAD. but you know, I'm completely one of them - except the vegan part... but I LIKED THEM BEFORE THEY WERE COOL OK???!

Anyway - I've always thought it would be cool to put a mattress in the back and go on little road trips in it. Not until a couple of years ago, once admittedly I had come across the #vanlife movement, did I consider moving into one full-time. And now... I. am. obsessed.

Here is why #vanlife ISN’T bullshit. for me.

Please note: if there is anything I have learned from hundreds, I say HUNDREDS of hours I have spent researching vans, interiors, batteries, types of insulation, watching videos, vlogs, reading articles, blogs and so on... it is this: van life and the reasons for or against it are entirely INDIVIDUAL to the person undertaking this lifestyle. It is also important to note that van life isn't just a hashtag, it is an entire lifestyle. and it is not simply moving your apartment into a van, it is an entire change of life style. We are talking about going from stationary to nomadic homie... omg I can't wait!

I know what you’re thinking: damn millennial yuppy, living in a van is weird! well... stop right there, JUDGE JUDY! I hate yoga, I love meat, I eat pizza on the REG, I spend waaaaaay too much time on the couch, I’m slightly overweight but I make it WERK because SELF LOVE henny. I am pretty normal. though undiagnosed, I definitely suffer from depression, anxiety (you know, the usjj...), low-self esteem and all that LOVELY STUFF. But you know what? I’ve decided I don't give a shit. I’m doing it! I am buying a crappy van, empty. I am going to throw a mattress, a bucket, a storage container and a cooler in the back and FUCK THE FUCK OFF. And I can't bloody wait. But first... let me overthink this through....

PROS

I am doing this because it will help me career-wise because I’ll be able to travel TO where the work is and it will be fine if the work is sporadic because I'll be LIVING IN A VAN - a house on wheels WITH storage space?!?! perfect for being on a film set! I don't need to factor in commuting time especially when shooting runs late or starts early, I can just sleep in the parking area... easy! 

I can visit my friends and family more (they live eVERYWHERE - this makes it very expensive and time-consuming to visit them because it takes hours in the coach or train, and I can only travel at certain times because they don't run 24/7 and you can travel WHENEVER in a van. I'll also save money on food and coach/train tickets as well as trains and cabs in and around their areas. 

I have done plenty of TRAVELLING in my life and I think those experiences and lessons cannot be forgotten or lost, which is why I think this is a brilliant idea. I want to explore my weird little Island, I want to explore Europe (before BREXIT FFS), I want to drive from the North of England aaaaalllll the way down to Cape Town, South Africa because many of my uni friends live there and I NEED TO SEE THEM.

I can save so much MONEY man... seriously - in the long term, and I say after a matter of a few months, I could make back the money I have spent out for the van, and from there we are talking petrol, insurance, food and then expendable income. I can put that money towards equipment, films, festival entries, travel to festivals and other industry events or just savings.

The FREEDOM! I love being able to move about freely! I love having all of my possessions to hand - it makes me feel empowered, independent, strong and those cannot be bought or achieved with a big house, for me anyway..

CONS...

...

comfort? no... insulation, blankets and cushions... ok

Safety? - fair point, sir... I imagine an alarm, a dog and a large knife can take care of that...

there don't seem to be many more...

I’m going to come clean now... at the END of the post ok I KNOW... bear with me ok

I do not have a driving licence.

I know... I KNOW OK?! calmit... I moved to SA when I was 18 and over there it is almost IMPOSSIBLE to apply for a driving test as a foreigner. In the year and a half I was trying to book one, I went back and forth from the driving authority MANY MANY times... each time there was a new document I needed which I didn't need last time...and then when I moved back to England I found out you have to live in England for a certain amount of time before you can book a test, plus I needed a new provisional licence. I have also had many many poor months in the past year, leaving little extra money for lessons and the test itself. I booked my driving test this morning as well as a lesson with an ALRIGHT instructor, but if we’re honest... which we always are - I've been driving for years. I am a safe driver but just need a little practice. so - assuming I pass pay test in June... I should be on the road by July 2018. I should get a larger pay check in June and hopefully the film’s expenses will be mostly complete so I'll have a bit extra to play with... hopefully. if not then I will spend another month or so working and then move in ASAP before winter comes!!!

so... that’s the plan... this PROBABLY won't work BUT I have to hope above hope that it will because honestly. I can't do this any more. I can't do being tied to one location any more. it isolates me from those I love, and me being the lazy poor motherfucker I never have spare income to buy tickets and book trains to go visit my friends and family. I feel constrained. I feel flattened... I feel the weight of all of it on my back and it kills me. I need to do this. this isn't some #vanlife bullshit. fuck all that. fuck all the fluff around it. Life on Wheels is the perfect way to minimise, mobilise and empower oneself. in the world we live in today? it seems like the only option for me, unless I fall into the machine taking a 9-5 and a lease/mortgage. I can't do that. I will literally be HORRIBLE to be around. I will feel FIlTHY and oppressed and that will send me down a mental journey that I have experienced before and simply won't survive again... but that is a post for another day.

Aaaaaaanyway, if you've made it down here - thank you. thank you for listening,  thank you for the shit that you have given me today. Here, have one in return. <<SHIT>>

One love,

EarthQuackSugarSkull x

[harbingerofchaosx5]

Fours years ago today we lost one of the last remaining harbingers of true YouTube content today, as he retired the moniker of Filthy frank and donned the full-time artist name of joji. Rest in power papa franku😔🙌🏾 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • (Hashtags) #filthyfrank #joji #slowdancinginthedark #88rising #chinchin #safariman #dizastamusic #reibrown #georgemiller #willhe #ｖａｐｏｒｗａｖｅ #vaporwaveaesthetic https://www.instagram.com/p/CJdfKp0DAFU/?igshid=1pnutihq712r8

[foamsyrop]

The product of plagiarism: Ten miles of peach blossoms - Tang Qi Gong Zi.

Hello friends,

I have no idea if you guys have ever heard about the Chinese film called “Three lifetimes - Ten miles of peach blossom”(?) or something like that. But if you do, please think carefully before you buy a ticket.

You can search #‎三生三世十里桃花抄袭 or “tang qi plagiarism” for more information.

Here’s something you need to know about that movie in a nutshell:

- Back in 2007, a famous BL-novel author “Windy” (Da Fung Gui Wo - 大风刮过) wrote a book called “Peach Blossom Debt” (桃花债).

- After that “Tang Qi” (T7 - 唐七) committed plagiarism, use “Windy” work and passed it off as her own! “Tang Qi” named it “三生三世十里桃花” (Three lifetimes: Ten miles of peach blossoms). Besides, “Tang Qi” has stole ideas from many more BL-novel authors, not only “Windy”: especially “Joyful” (公子欢喜).

- Base on comparisons between “Peach Blossom Debt” and “Three lifetimes”, you can see they are really similar - up to 70% (the comparison is illustrated in the link down below). The only difference is: “Three lifetimes” is NOT a BL-novel, is BxG (shoujo) one. That makes a big difference.

The Chinese government does not like homosexual, BL-novels are technically illegal in China. That’s the first reason why “Three lifetimes” is a plagiarized work but still getting more popular. “Windy” CAN NOT sue the thief, because the judge won’t support her… Plus, “Windy” is quite timid so she just don’t want to fight.

- In fact, “Tang Qi” has a group of professionals with connections that backs her up. That explains why she can't be sue and got famous so fast.

“Tang Qi” has a terrible personality, she even mocked “Windy”: “My book is already published, what about yours? Oh, they weren’t? Do you need help from me?” “Plagiarize, plagiarize my ass.”

~Wrote by mydramalist/fudanshidesu: “The original novel is BL-themed. Needless to say, BL-themed stuff is low-profile and pretty much illegal (read underground) in China. Knowing DaFeng would have a hard time fighting the establishment, Tang Qi took DaFeng’s novel and rewrote it. She replaced homosexual characters with heterosexual characters to cater to mainstream audience… added a little spice here and there and voila! TangQi’s very own novel was born.

There’s more to the story…

Tang Qi was bold, she even made fake accounts to talk about her novels on Da Feng’s pages, she posted sh*t in the comment sections under Da Feng’s novels… Girl basically went gaga!

When people found out what TangQi was doing, things got ugly and our anti-hero, Tang Qi, decided to go full scale war. She created an account pretending to be Da Feng… Blah blah blah… Long story short, her actions harmed Da Feng’s reputation.

Today, Tang Qi is a well-known “writer” in Mainland China. So, we know the truth now! She’s a thief, who feeds and lives off of other people’s creativity, their time and effort.

If you decide to read the book/watch “Eternal Love”, please keep the above in mind and give proper credits to DaFeng, the real mind behind the story.”

- After all, “Windy” told her fans: “She (Tang Qi) did not write the story on her own but she’s still more famous than me. That’s because I’m not good enough.” – Said the author who has best-selling BL-novels, why??

It’s a long story since 2008… Hundreds of famous authors, artists, cosplayer, composer,… shared Windy’s article and boycotted “Tang Qi”; Many people hashtagged #一起来撕抄袭书, torn off “Three lifetimes” to make “Tang Qi” see their anger: http://www.weibo.com/p/100808ee2c9c99efe1425beac07329883de84f?k=%25E4%25B8%2580%25E8%25B5%25B7%25E6%259D%25A5%25E6%2592%2595%25E6%258A%2584%25E8%25A2%25AD%25E4%25B9%25A6&from=526&_from_=huati_topic.

- BUT HERE’S THE WORST PART. In 2015, they started to make “Three lifetimes” into a TV drama and movie, afraid of “Tang Qi” plagiarism responsible for low profits, that film crew bought off Weibo’s staffs, ERASED all the hashtags, articles, images,… that accused “Tang Qi” and “Three lifetimes” of stealing ideas from the search bar, to keep a lid on her plagiarism…

This is wrong. The true artist cannot gain anything, even lost her right just because she wrote a BL-novel. Are ONLY heterosexual loves beautiful, o-kay, worthy? But same-sex loves should be hidden away, ruined like that?

And what about the true talented authors, who went with their guts on their works?

- “Tang Qi” not only plagiarized BL-novel authors once but more than 5! And 2 of them had been made into film in Mainland Chinese… If the film crew hadn’t had bought off Weibo, “Three lifetimes” wouldn’t have been this popular, I believe so.

- So, if that movie will be in your area, please consider before buying the ticket!

- - - - -

Note:

(1) The comparison between “Peach Blossom Debt” and “Three Lifetimes”:

https://tieba.baidu.com/p/3573276406?pn=1 (more than 10 parts).

In English (short version): https://hamster428.wordpress.com/2015/07/09/plagiarism-allegations-against-tqgz/

(2) Even its drama poster, OST, and “book” cover is plagiarized too:

http://m.weibo.cn/5802830735/4070336805431010

http://m.weibo.cn/1875808141/4081929105563790

(3) Tang Qi has published some books, and 3 of them have been accused of plagiarism, but still being printed. Why? Because BL-novel authors can’t sue her!

More than 30 Tang Qi’s “characters” are the copy-cat of characters made by Joyful. Such as one of Tang Qi’s main male character who is in purple and silver hair→ it is EXACTLY THE SAME as Joyful’s character whose name 勖扬天君.

(4) Faking accounts, cyberbullying, back-stabbing,... Read more about filthy tricks Tang Qi has done here: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=10203680700097895&id=273489969522688

[melitame]

21 Day Soul Cleansing Journey (Day 6: The Weight of the World) 1.6.18

Welcome back, beloveds. Today we are taking the next step in finding and following our Bliss Work to lead us in our Authentic destiny.

Today, we remove another layer of our FEAR (False Expression Appearing Real), and tapping into more of our truest, highest Self.

It’s day 6: The Weight of the World.  

How many of us tend to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders?

We see what’s happening on the news, and our hearts immediately sink with depression for the next two days.

We hear a tragedy occur with a friend, and we bend over backwards to fix it.

These are not bad reactions to have.

These are perfectly normal and compassionate reactions to have.

So why doesn’t it feel better after we fix it or fall into depression?

Because we are trying to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders….and we’re trying to do it alone.

I believe it’s part of human nature to do what we can to help others, especially in their times of trouble, and I think that is a trait of service that we all could still use a little more practice in.

Where I see a pull in this transaction is the obligation that comes behind its motive.

Where there’s weight, there’s Pressure.

Where there’s pressure, there’s stress.

And when we are stressed, we are not fully present in our actions.

The question then becomes “how do we carry the weight and remain stress free?” We must look at these areas:

1)      How we choose to see it.

2)      Responsibility that we believe we carry in the situation.

3)      The direct impact it makes on our lives.

 1) How we choose to see it.

What we see is what we get.

It’s important to see the truth as it is; that comes in the means of seeing the whole Truth as well.

Yes, there are tragic events that happen every day. Yes, we live in a world of pain and suffering. Yes, we live amongst people of greed and destruction. And that’s horrific to acknowledge and witness.

But there’s also a second Truth; this is actually the first and most important Truth:

This world is filled with some amazing and breathtaking beauties. We are blessed in unbelievable ways. Humankind is maturing into a species with higher consciousness than ever before.

When we look at the latter, doesn’t it feel so much lighter and empowering??

How we choose to see something makes a great influence on how we respond to it. 

2) Responsibility that we believe we carry in the situation.

If our world is revolved around being responsible for other people, then we can fall deeply into a world of martyring. It only takes a few times to believe that we are the main one responsible for the way the world turns out. The thought alone feels heavy and draining.

Where we have so much influence on how the world is impacted through our actions and behavior, it doesn’t make just a few people solely responsible.

“We are all equally responsibility for what we bring to the table, and over compensating for someone else’s slack doesn’t automatically make up for it.” – Melita Irie Muzik

Where that person doesn’t show up, the world doesn’t receive.

And if we make a mistake, that doesn’t mean that it’s our fault alone for the way that the world goes ‘round.

Take the pressure off, and just do your best. That’s all that is needed from you.

 3) The direct impact it makes on our lives.

This is not intended to promote selfish or narcissistic behavior, or to disregard the importance of indirect tragedies that take place in our lives.

I see it very important to understand that we are evolving into a multi-sensory living kind, and anything that goes out, will come back to us. That’s why it’s important to focus on doing our best and letting go of the rest.

But what about the countries on the other side of the world who need our attention because they are living in poverty and dying from filthy water and lack of food? How does their life have a direct impact on ours?

Well, let’s take a look: as our humankind becomes more developed in spiritual maturity, we are more able to feel what we don’t see. So, even though we may not physically see the families in other countries (unless we see a commercial or ad), I believe that we still sense the energetic frequencies that are passed along the wave fields across the globe.

“That heaviness we feel is accurate and crucial to our entire existence.”

But when we loath in bed all day – burdened with life’s problems, we are continuing the same energetic frequency of suffering back onto the other side of the world.

So, though we may be sensitive souls who feel every bit of sadness that the world feels, we are becoming less and less attuned with that very call that we feel when we are hit with that overbearing sensation of depression.

“The indirect impact that it has on us can be an opportunity to directly make a difference about it.” - Melita Irie Muzik

Based on my experience, I believe that depression comes from not acting where action is called. The guilt kicks in, and then the shame and then next thing you know, we’re numbing ourselves from feeling anything just to take some of that heaviness away.

What I think we should do in those situations is, as I like to say, “face it in the face.”

We must first ask ourselves, “what is the next wisest thing we can do that will lead us – and ALL of humanity – out of this cycle of suffering?”

It doesn’t have to be anything grand or extravagant. We don’t have to donate a million dollars or volunteer every weekend to a soup kitchen if that’s something we can’t afford.

What can we do?

Can we journal or blog about how we feel?

Can we coordinate an event that designates awareness on the problem we fret about?

Can we volunteer one weekend to a soup kitchen, or one dollar to the church or to a community organization?

I think the weight of the world that we carry is a weight of only thinking about what we can’t do, rather than what we can do.

Once again, all that we are asked and needed of is to just do our best.

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

Meditation/movement – Serenity

Obviously, the serenity prayer is an amazing reminder to let go and surrender to what is:

“Grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change. Grant me the courage to change what I can. And grant me the wisdom to know the difference.” – Serenity Prayer

I also like to breathe in this mediation:

“I release the need to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. I release. I release. I release.”

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

Now, let’s connect – you and me. Your story matters just as much as the rest, and I wanna know:

“What weight have you been carrying, and what action step can you take to release it from your responsibility?”

Join us in the conversation over at the 21 Day Soul Cleansing Journey Facebook page with your gut-bubbling moment that resonated with you. Comment with the hashtag “GBM” (gut-bubbling moment).

“It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a globe to transform a generation. And we need YOU!”

Thanks so much for sharing your invaluable space.

Until next time…

Peace and Love,

Jae Tafari

[phonglinh1909]

Hello friends, I have no idea if you guys have ever heard about the Chinese film called “Three lifetimes - Ten miles of peach blossom”(?) or something like that. But if you do, please think carefully before you buy a ticket. You can search #‎三生三世十里桃花抄袭 or “tang qi plagiarism” for more information. Here’s something you need to know about that movie in a nutshell: - Back in 2007, a famous BL-novel author “Windy” (Da Fung Gui Wo - 大风刮过) wrote a book called “Peach Blossom Debt” (桃花债). - After that “Tang Qi” (T7 - 唐七) committed plagiarism, use “Windy” work and passed it off as her own! “Tang Qi” named it “三生三世十里桃花” (Three lifetimes: Ten miles of peach blossoms). Besides, “Tang Qi” has stole ideas from many more BL-novel authors, not only “Windy”: especially “Joyful” (公子欢喜). - Base on comparisons of “Peach Blossom Debt” and “Three lifetimes”, you can see they are really similar - up to 70% (the comparison is illustrated in the link down below). The only difference is: “Three lifetimes” is NOT a BL-novel, is BxG (shoujo) one. That makes a big difference. The Chinese government does not like homosexual, BL-novels are technically illegal in China. That’s the first reason why “Three lifetimes” is a plagiarized work but still getting more popular. “Windy” CANNOT sue the thief, because the judge won’t support her… Plus, “Windy” is quite timid so she just don’t want to fight. - In fact, “Tang Qi” has a group of professionals with connections that backs her up. That explains why she can’t be sue and got famous so fast. “Tang Qi” has a terrible personality, she even mocked “Windy”: “My book is already published, what about yours? Oh, they weren’t? Do you need help from me?” “Plagiarize, plagiarize my ass.” ~Wrote by mydramalist/fudanshidesu: “The original novel is BL-themed. Needless to say, BL-themed stuff is low-profile and pretty much illegal (read underground) in China. Knowing DaFeng would have a hard time fighting the establishment, Tang Qi took DaFeng’s novel and rewrote it. She replaced homosexual characters with heterosexual characters to cater to mainstream audience… added a little spice here and there and voila! TangQi’s very own novel was born. There’s more to the story… Tang Qi was bold, she even made fake accounts to talk about her novels on Da Feng’s pages, she posted sh*t in the comment sections under Da Feng’s novels… Girl basically went gaga! When people found out what TangQi was doing, things got ugly and our anti-hero, Tang Qi, decided to go full scale war. She created an account pretending to be Da Feng… Blah blah blah… Long story short, her actions harmed Da Feng’s reputation. Today, Tang Qi is a well-known “writer” in Mainland China. So, we know the truth now! She’s a thief, who feeds and lives off of other people’s creativity, their time and effort. If you decide to read the book/watch “Eternal Love”, please keep the above in mind and give proper credits to DaFeng, the real mind behind the story.” After all, “Windy” told her fans: “She (Tang Qi) did not write the story on her own but she’s still more famous than me. That’s because I’m not good enough.” – Said the author who has best-selling BL-novels, why?? It’s a long story since 2008… More than 50 authors, artists, cosplayer, composer,… shared Windy’s article and boycotted “Tang Qi”; Many people hashtagged #一起来撕抄袭书, torn off “Three lifetimes” to make “Tang Qi” see their anger: http://www.weibo.com/p/100808ee2c9c99efe1425beac07329883de84f?k=%25E4%25B8%2580%25E8%25B5%25B7%25E6%259D%25A5%25E6%2592%2595%25E6%258A%2584%25E8%25A2%25AD%25E4%25B9%25A6&from=526&_from_=huati_topic. - BUT HERE’S THE WORST PART. In 2015, they started to make “Three lifetimes” into a TV drama and movie, afraid of “Tang Qi” plagiarism responsible for low profits, that film crew bought off Weibo’s staffs, ERASED all the hashtags, articles, images,… that accused “Tang Qi” and “Three lifetimes” of stealing ideas from the search bar, to keep a lid on her plagiarism… This is wrong. The true artist cannot gain anything, even lost her right just because she wrote a BL-novel. Are ONLY heterosexual loves beautiful, o-kay, worthy? But same-sex loves should be hidden away, ruined like that? And what about the true talented authors, who went with their guts on their works? - “Tang Qi” not only plagiarized BL-novel authors once but more than 5! And 2 of them had been made into film in Mainland Chinese… If the film crew hadn’t had bought off Weibo, “Three lifetimes” wouldn’t have been this popular, I believe so. - So, if that movie will be in your area, please consider before buying the ticket! - - - - - Note: (1) The comparison of “Peach Blossom Debt” and “Three Lifetimes”: https://tieba.baidu.com/p/3573276406?pn=1 (more than 10 parts). In English (short version): https://hamster428.wordpress.com/2015/07/09/plagiarism- allegations-against- tqgz/ (2) Even its drama poster, OST, and “book” cover is plagiarized too: http://m.weibo.cn/5802830735/4070336805431010 http://m.weibo.cn/1875808141/4081929105563790 (3) Tang Qi has published some books, and 3 of them have been accused of plagiarism, but still being printed. Why? Because BL-novel authors can’t sue her! More than 30 Tang Qi’s “characters” are the copy-cat of characters made by Joyful. Such as one of Tang Qi’s main male character who is in purple and silver hair→ it is EXACTLY THE SAME as Joyful’s character whose name 勖扬天君. (4) Faking accounts, cyberbullying, back-stabbing,… Read more about filthy tricks Tang Qi has done here: https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=10203680700097895&id=273489969522688