#rang from an angry Jewish girl

[iwantjobs]

5/29/2024: I would like to enlighten the Godly people of America, Israelis, Jews in America and around the world, westerners and even Eastern-Indians who support the recolonization of ancient Jewish land from 3,000 years ago by simply doing land grabbing work the West Bank for example in Palestine. kelseyville in CA is going through a lot of changes as your white children are working with native people whose ancestors were slaughtered by Kelsey and his brother (?) and law enforcement back in the mid 1800's for the native's rebellion against the brothers enslaving Indians for their range. The slaughtered of women and children was called Bloody Island as the result of the retaliation against rebellion. Well now, the name of the Kelsey school is changed and they are thinking of changing the name of the town because Kelsey hung and whipped native parents who didn't take in their little girls for him and his brother (?) to rape 3 times a week. I got the info from a radio show called Full Circle on KPFA interviewing the descendant of a little girl who hid in water while breathing from some plants in the water while the slaughter toll place. That little girl survived and lived until 110 and taught her angry grandson to learn to forgive and now he's doing the work to change the name of the town who honored pedophile. His pedophile friend is also honor in the town with his and placed somewhere, too. Well Israel, all this slaughtering work won't guarantee your dominance and control of all your territory for your future DNA and the American kids in the future will help force Israel to give back the land they stole after 1948 and the country Israel will be 1/3rd the size of it is now. The rest like I stated will be broken in 3 new countries: Gaza as the Vatican City of Muhammed's religion, the West Bank will be known as a country called Palestine, and the remnant will be known as a true new democracy in the Middle-East of both Jews and returning Palestinians. Trang's work at 51.16 years old. And America, for your kind and generous help to assist your Israeli buds to fight back their ancestors' land from 3,000 years ago; your future dnas will follow your kind and generous deed to assist.thr native Americans to fight back their ancestors' land of 1,000 years ago. Oops. Same goes for all Western colonized land. Oops.

[brainlesspen]

Demon (2015) Movie Explanation

Embark on a spine-tingling journey as we unravel the mysteries of Demon' (2015), a Polish horror film directed by Marcin Wrona. Delve into the intricacies of the plot, decipher the unexpected twists, and explore the Jewish theory of possession that shrouds the narrative. Join us as we dissect the supernatural elements, revealing the gripping story behind Hana's choice, the Butterfly Effect in the movie, and the unsettling nature of life explored in this unforgettable cinematic experience.

Demon (2015) Movie Plot Story and Ending Explanation in Details

* * * Spoiler Alert – If you haven’t seen the movie yet, turn back now! * * * The scene starts with a backhoe taking someone through a city. A Range Rover waiting in a feri with Peter. Peter has been living in England for many years. He has come here to marry whom he was acquainted with on the internet but he knows her brother. Suddenly Peter sees a woman screaming and walking through the water. Peter feels a bit surprised. Then he goes to the destined place and meets an old man. The man tells how the bridge was. Peter says it was good but the GPS wasn't working. He will make a new bridge when he is settled down. The old man says it has all been too quickly. Young people should know each other. Peter says they don't want to wait because they love each other. The old man says a few Skype calls aren't enough to know each other. Ronaldo is a boy who comes to help Peter. Peter comes to see the land he has got as a gift for his wedding from Zenata's family. But he chooses to ride on a backhoe when Ronaldo appears with the car. Peter comes with the backhoe to meet his girl Zenata and his brother. Zen and Pete kiss each other. They are so happy to meet each other. These three are fooling around the area. Peter wants to build a house for his family on the land he has got as a wedding gift. Peter is cutting down the trees with a backhoe and he unnecessarily cuts a tree pushing back. He gets out of the car and checks out. He is surprised by whatever he finds out. Read more, Smile (2022) Movie Explanation A dead body under a tree. He gets back to Zenata's house. Everyone is celebrating the marriage. But Peter is thinking of something else. He is getting an ominous vibe from this land. There is a rural house built on this land. He takes his bag and baggage to the house to stay until the home is built. He is talking with his fiance but in the middle of the phone call, he hears someone laughing. He gets out with the torch and sees a dwarf-like figure and the moment he sees this he sinks into soft mud. The next morning his brother-in-law comes to visit him and finds him sleeping in his car. He gets out of the car and puts on his wedding clothes. Suddenly he sees something muddy in his nose, he cleans it and finally becomes ready for his wedding. His brother-in-law hugs him. He marries Zenata and dances a lot with a song sung by them. They are so happy. Peter's nose starts to bleed while he is dancing. Zenata immediately takes him to their home and cleans his blood but he is still bleeding. They are intimate, in a while her brother starts the backhoe. Peter runs to her brother at once and stops the backhoe. The brother is surprised because Peter wants to clean the land. Now he is acting differently. Peter says sorry to her brother for being rude. Zenata takes him home. They gather for a wedding party dinner. Someone is congratulating them. Someone is expressing his desire for their child. Someone is playing piano. Peter notices her brother is behaving differently. He goes home and finds some little children playing there. He goes to the land to check on it. He sees the trees are cut down. Peter comes back to the party and confronts him. He is dancing with ladies. His hands are muddish so brother in law says, What are you up to?... Looking for worms? At that time Ronaldo comes and laughs at his joke. Peter gets so angry and hits him. Zenata's father comes and Peter takes them to the hole he saw in the woods. But when they go there, they find nothing. No hole is there. Peter says he finds a skeleton here. Father says his dad had three pet dogs. When they died, Dad buried them here. Peter says I know the difference between a human dead body and a dog's body. Father says we will find it tomorrow because now we all are drunk. We will find out when we are sober. They return to the party. Everyone is dancing. They have no idea what is happening between brother-in-law and son-in-law. Peter feels nauseated so he goes to the bathroom where he finds the doctor who played piano a while ago. He asks him if he knows Zenata's grandfather. The doctor says he was very good and pure but no one is perfect in the world. He says, What happens when a white snowflake falls into a dirty puddle? Peter returns to the crowd where his father-in-law announces his name to speak something for everyone. He is saying good things about the reception. Suddenly he sees a dead woman walking in the middle of the crowd and her name is Hana. In the speech, he mentions Hana's name instead of Zenata. After that, he is dancing with Zenata and Zenata asks if Hana is his old girlfriend. She also asks if you are planning to cheat on me from now on. Dancers are exchanging partners. Suddenly he sees Hana in his arms. He becomes dizzy. He leaves the crowd and asks the priest if a person can see a dead person walking. The priest doesn't understand what he is saying. Peter is gonna say something about what happened to him. Suddenly his mouth gets stuck, he can't utter a word and breaks the glass in his hand out of rage. The priest understands what is happening to him, and he gets up to leave but father in law makes him stay and tells him to enjoy. He takes Peter out of the crowd and tells him that they need to get to know each other. Then he whispers he has to choose words carefully and choose the person whom he is talking with. It's like a butterfly effect. People have already started talking about you. He asks again if he doesn't know about the skeleton. Father-in-law laughs and says he has to choose words carefully. Peter says he saw what he saw. Father says he saw but Father didn't see anything so there can be no question. The bride and groom throw their scarf and bow to their friends who can catch it. The catcher will be their bridesmaid. Peter gets a seizure attack when he throws his bows. Read Similar, The Night House (2020) Explanation Everyone gets bewildered because of the attack. His in-laws and Zenata take him to the house. They call the doctor and he says maybe he has taken something or because of the booze. His father-in-law tells Jasny to bring more vodkas so that no one can notice what has happened to Peter. Zen talks with her brother about whether he has given him something or not. Her brother and Ronaldo both reply negatively. Zenata doesn't understand what has happened with Peter. The doctor takes a vodka bottle from under the cot and starts boozing. Father tells Jasny he brings a fucked up husband for her sister. He asks how come you don't know he is epileptic. Ronaldo takes Zenata to the tree where Peter sees the hole. Zenata asks why everyone didn't say anything to me. Ronaldo says he thought she knew the matter. Zenata looks for Peter and finds him in the middle of the dancing crowd. He again has a seizure but Jasny shows no care for him. He says to keep the music playing. Zenata and the doctor take him home again and this time his seizure has got a new level. So the doctor decides to give him a high dose. He injects in his hand and still he is awake. Suddenly the priest comes to say goodbye. Zenata then tells the priest he saw a skeleton in the woods. Father gets so angry at Jasny for telling her. But Jasny didn't tell her. Father tries to make it up by saying he is nuts because of boozing a lot. But Peter gets up and starts saying something in German, Polish, Yiddish language. The priest says we have to try something in Latin. They are trying exorcism. On the other hand, Zenata brings Professor to see the matter because he is the oldest veteran here. The professor comes and asks her what his name is. Peter says she is Hana. The professor was surprised because there was only one Hana he knew. He gives his acquaintance and says his name. Hana recognizes him. The professor sings a song that she once heard and she recognizes the song. Zenata's mom and the other two relatives are mixing vodka to make it more strong. The male one says someone is spreading the news that the groom is possessed by a Jewish ghost. She gets angry and asks who is doing that. Mom is drunk so she is laughing and asks why she went to England to marry. Haven't we got enough boys in Poland? The bridal cake comes and Father goes to spoil it but Mom stops him. Father goes to the cellar and says he can't keep a sick man in the cellar. But he is not sick. The demon possesses him. Father asks what we will say to them that he saw a skeleton. Prof. asks what skeleton. Father didn't see it, only Peter did. Father says then he had a seizure and did st. Vitus's dance. Considering the groom's conditions with the priest's consent the marriage gets to be annulled. They will wait until the experts have had a look. He adds we ought to find out who his parents are. The doctor will get us a referral to a center with the best specialist. Then Zenata slaps his father and his brother slaps her.  Father tells the priest that he will give a lift to home. The barn is almost ready and the rain is easing off, which means they are planning to hide him or send him away. When everyone else will move back, they will get him out of the cellar. The funniest thing they are thinking about is who will drive the priest home. Ronaldo and father in law are drunk. So they have chosen the doctor to drive him home who drank the most today because he denied it when he was asked. When they get in the car, they notice Zenata digging the land where Peter saw the skeleton. She is digging, in the meantime Ronaldo conveys the news that the patient is not there. There comes a hue and cry among everyone. Everyone searches for Peter but he is nowhere. Then everyone gets in the car. On the way, Prof. says to take the car to the butcher's. He was recalling the memories in the car.  This way ... .Eliza, Sarka, and Mela walked to school. Hana's sisters…the most beautiful girl I ever saw…that was…my world. They search for the whole night but find nothing. They search all the graves and then at some point, they lose all hope. We see Ronaldo make the Range Rover fall from a hill into the water. They break into the house and we see a picture and get all the answers. Zenata leaves the rural area where she spent a horrible wedding night.

What Is the Jewish Theory of Possessing Peter?

In Jewish tradition, the soul of a dead person can cling to a living one. It's a dybbuk. It's the chance for it to purge itself. But also to purge the soul of the possessed one. They can cut the connection only by exorcism. Jewish people believe in the purgatory of souls.

Why Did Hana Choose Peter in Demon (2015)?

Hana loves a man and she marries him. This fact we know from the Professor who once loved Hana. She died and her husband also died many years ago. She was buried in the woods. Many years later Hana finds her husband who is Peter and looks just like her husband. She wants to be with her husband so she possesses him and takes him away.

What Is the Butterfly Effect in The Movie Demon (2015)?

The Butterfly effect is when a butterfly fritters away her wings on one side of the world. There can be a storm on the other side of the world. It has another name called the Chaos Theory. Small things sometimes can be a reason for a giant chaos. So ignorance can make you a loser. Life sometimes is cruel and so unpredictable. Still, we need to find out the reason for being alive.

Summary

Original Title: Demon Genre: Horror/ Fantasy/ Comedy Runtime: 01hr 34min Original Language: Polish, English, Yiddish, Russian Directed by Marcin Wrona Written by Pawel Maslona, Marcin Wrona Release date: September 9, 2016 (USA) Origin Country: Poland Read the full article

[chekhov-and-chill]

Another rant from an angry Jewish girl

So I’m late to this but ya know how everyone’s pissed and saying they’ll boycott Kat Von D for saying she won’t vaccinate her kids? Ok. So that anger is totally justified. But here’s the thing. Kat Von D has been exposed multiple times over the years as an anti-Semite. She literally sent her Jewish boss a poster with a fucking swastika and the words “Burn in hell, Jewbag”. And the Jewish community called this out time and time again, yet no one listened. There was no outrage over social media. No one threatened to boycott her products. No one gave a shit. But now that it’s about vaccines, you care? Now you’re ready to sacrifice your precious eyeliner to look good and righteous on social media? You can’t tolerate someone not vaccinating their kid, but anti-Semitism was ok for you? I am fucking tired of social media activists getting plaudits for calling out problematic behavior from a celeb when they ignored blatant and repeated anti-Semitism from that same person. Listen to the Jewish community when we call someone out.

P.S I would like to make a prediction. Someday, Linda Soursauce or whatever her name is will do something that’s just the right kind of problematic for y'all to call out. But that won’t change the fact that you supported that vile anti-Semite as long as it was convenient for you to do so.

[gay-otlc]

Monsters- Chapter א

Summary: Eyphah is a monster. No, Eyphah has monsters living in hir head. No, Eyphah has to fight a monster. No, someone ze used to love was the real monster. No, monsters are everywhere.

Content warnings: OCD/intrusive thoughts/trich, religion, cursing, low self esteem, violence, lmk if I need to add anything.

Playlist (if anyone's curious)

Word count: 1702

A note: Ahav is a word in their world for girlfriend/boyfriend/partner. It comes from the Hebrew word for love. Also, if you see an ḥ, and you don't already know what it means, interpret it as an h. Please.

Okay, without further ado, enjoy the first chapter of the finally titled everyone-is-jewish wip!

Eyphah surveyed the girl in front of hir- Racḥel, was it?- seizing hir opponent up before hir instructor told them to start. Racḥel looked a lot like hir; light brown skin, thick eyebrows, amber eyes, and a long, prominent nose. Hir opponent had hair of a similar mahogany shade, but hers was much longer than hirs, which only reached just past hir ears. Racḥel probably didn’t have any bald patches either.

But the comparisons and contrasts of their appearances wasn’t what mattered here, though Eyphah did enjoy studying the appearances of pretty girls… and boys, and any gender, really. Everyone was pretty. Silently, ze chided hirself for getting distracted and continued thinking about the upcoming fight.

Racḥel’s stance was wide- it would likely be hard to knock her off balance. She was a few inches taller than Eyphah as well, though that wasn’t a surprise, given hir grand height of five foot one.

Her sword might pose a challenge. Its blade was much shorter and wider than Eyphah’s longsword, and the longswords ze was used to fighting. Still, it couldn’t be bad to expand hir skillset… after all, it would be better to mess up fighting Racḥel than in a real combat situation.

Ze tried to remember- how much did ze know about Racḥel’s fighting style? If ze recalled correctly, she tended to go on the offense, which would work well with hir own defensive strategy.

“Start!” her instructor called, and before Eyphah even really had time to think, Racḥel brought her sword down in overhead attack.

All of Eyphah’s senses lit on fire, hir molecules on high alert. It felt almost like slipping on an old, familiar glove as ze blocked, swinging their elbow out so that the sword would turn horizontal above hir head. The swords clashed together with a metallic clang.

A grin rose to hir face as adrenaline surged through hir. Other than hir ahav, Shoshanah, sword fighting was one of the only things that really made hir feel energized and alive. The world around hir seemed to vanish as hir mind narrowed in focus around Racḥel, and the swords, and hir mind racing to decide what hir next move would be.

Eyphah swung hir sword arm around to bring hir blade around to the side of hir opponent’s head. She blocked it easily, pushing hard against the sword in what felt like an attempt to spin Eyphah around. Ze widened hir stance slightly and bent hir knees to stand hir ground. Once ze felt secure in hir balance, ze brought the sword back vertically across hir chest, preparing for whatever strike would undoubtedly come in a few seconds.

It turned out to be a thrust towards hir gut. Ze took a step back, out of range of her opponent’s shorter sword, and thrust hir own sword in a similar manner. Racḥel brought her arm in, trying to push Eyphah’s aside. Unfortunately for her, she put the tip of her sword midway through the other, giving Eyphah just enough leverage to shove Racḥel to the side, take a long step forward, and place the tip of hir sword against Racḥel’s chest.

“Break!” called the instructor. “Point to Eyphah.”

Racḥel smiled at hir and nodded as ze withdrew hir sword and sheathed it. “Good game,” she said.

“Yeah, good game,” ze said. Hir chest rose and fell as ze reminded hirself- breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. Hir tense muscles relaxed slightly as ze let hirself come down from the adrenaline high. Ze still buzzed with energy, ready for another fight. Ze focused on hir breathing until that opportunity arose.

Hir next opponent had pale skin, red glasses, and long brown hair. Eyphah didn’t recognize them. They immediately went on the offensive, jabbing their sword out repeatedly as Eyphah sidestepped again and again, searching for an opening. It never came. Hir opponent drew their sword back again, preparing for yet another strike.

Eyphah sighed and angled hir sword, hoping to block down hard enough to hit their leg- hopefully they had enough momentum for hir to use it against them. As ze readied hir sword to swing its blade down, hir opponent changed direction at the last moment and quickly arced their sword up and down, the blade hurtling towards Eyphah’s head in a swift overhead attack.

Before ze had time to react and change the direction of hir block, the opponent lightly tapped the top of Eyphah’s head.

Distantly, ze wondered if it would cut any hair off. Ze hoped it wouldn’t. It had just grown back.

If ze concentrated, ze thought ze could feel hir thick hair rubbing against the blade, slowly leaving hir scalp. It felt itchy, almost, like the hair was screaming at hir. Hir breath caught. Slowly, hir opponent grinned and removed the sword from atop Eyphah’s head. “Good game,” they said. It sounded like their voice was underwater.

The world blurred, everything feeling very detached from hir except the mahogany strands cluttering the sword’s edge. It was only one or two, it shouldn’t be a big deal, except it was a big deal, because if one was ripped out, the rest would follow. Ze wouldn’t be able to resist.

And it had just grown back.

Hot rage flashed through hir, or maybe it was panic. Did ze know? Did ze even really care? It was burning, and fiery, and there was a lot of it. So much. Ze didn’t know whether ze was angry at hir opponent or hirself or afraid of hir opponent or afraid of losing hir hair or afraid of hirself, but ze was feeling.

Hir fingers made their way to the hilt of hir sword, tightly gripping its ridges. It might have been odd that a weapon was one of the few things, other than friends and hir ahav, that could calm hir down, but it could.

Or at least, it used to be able to.

Ze felt the same arm start to creep towards hir hair, ready to tear out the screaming strands of it.

Their fault, ze thought, in broken fragments of a sentence, as hir amber eyes flicked across hir opponent once again.

Like the ghost of an arm, a phantom limb, Eyphah felt hirself draw the sword. Before they had time to react, ze thrust the sword into the opponent’s chest. The opponent had this expression on their face, mostly happy, but a little bit concerned, lips slightly parted. Just the barest ghost of shock had flitted across their face when the blade made contact.

Then, they froze.

Blood gushed from their chest. It streaked down their shirt, the scarlet color sharply contrasting its previous plain white color. It dripped onto Eyphah’s hands, smearing across hir light brown complexion and sinking into the creases of hir skin. Hir opponent pressed their own hand against the wound, and it came away bloody.

“Why…?” they whispered slowly, face falling.

Eyphah couldn’t move. Ze was frozen. If ze had tried to speak, ze didn’t think hir mouth would have worked.

Ze didn’t have an answer, anyway.

Why? There wasn’t an answer. There wasn’t a reason.

Ze just did it. Eyphah was a monster, so ze did it. Hir opponent never got an answer as the light faded from behind their eyes. Their hand pressed against the wound went slack, falling to their side, and they slumped over. A dark red puddle formed around them.

Eyphah killed them. Eyphah was a monster.

“-Eyphah. Eyphah!”

The world still looked blurry. Eyphah blinked as ze came into focus. What was going on?

“Eyphah, are you alright?”

“I…” ze began, looking around frantically. Their opponent was still standing there, upright. Looking at hir with a concerned expression on their face, but not covered in blood. The sword had fallen from hir hand, and definitely couldn’t be used to stab anyone now.

Good. Eyphah never wanted to touch it again.

“My head hurts,” ze finished lamely. “I suppose I just lost focus because of the pain.”

For a second, hir instructor looked suspicious, or maybe that was hir imagination. Either way, the look faded quickly. “Very well. You are dismissed. Ask Shoshanah if she can give you something.”

Normally, a small smile would have risen to Eyphah’s lips, as it did most times ze thought about hir ahav. Shoshanah was sunshine and warmth and love, a million other wonderful things. Ze loved her with everything ze was, and it was so obvious to everyone around hir that hir sword fighting classmates and instructor had picked up on it, but hir head was swimming with dark thoughts in murky waters, and it didn’t have any room for warm thoughts about love and sunshine.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks,” ze mumbled. For a few moments longer, ze stood paralyzed. Eventually, it clicked in hir mind that people expected hir to pick up hir sword.

Hir breathing quickened, the world around hir seeming to get smaller and more confining and hotter and so much worse. Ze didn’t want to touch the sword. What if ze killed someone when ze touched it?

I’m not a bad person, ze told hirself. I’m not a bad person. I’m not a murderer. I’m not a monster.

And I don’t want to kill this person. They have a life. They’re a living person. Maybe they have an ahav, or friends, or family. They have a future, a bright one. They exist, and I don’t want to take that away from them.

Ze took a deep breath and lifted the sword gingerly by the hilt. Ze couldn’t have put it away quickly enough, busying hir hands by picking at hir hair so ze wouldn’t touch the sword and hurt anyone.

No, ze wouldn’t have hurt anyone anyway.

Because ze wasn’t a monster, right?

Right?

No, no matter how much ze tried to reassure hirself ze wasn’t, ze was. Ze was a monster. Good people don’t have thoughts, fantasies, even, about murdering others with lives, especially not if the imagined victim never did anything to hurt them. Good people didn’t do that.

Only monsters could have thoughts like Eyphah.

There was no escaping the simple truth; Eyphah was a monster.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 24: Secret Injury

Prompt: Secret Injury

Fandom: Good Omens

Links: Ao3   FF.net

Another historical one today, set during WWII

~~~~~~~

Aziraphale had made quite a few more desperate escapes with Crowley than he wanted to think about during the course of their long, long Arrangement.

           One of their most desperate though, entailed leading Jewish children out of Berlin through the sewers during the Nazi occupation.

           More angels and demons than just himself and Crowley were walking the earth now—important business, this war. But they were the only ones bothering to care about the people getting caught in the crossfire and had agreed upon a truce to the Arrangement, simply banding together to save as many as possible.

           This whole situation started off as desperate. Crowley had connections with other demons in the SS so he was able to find out when and where they moved. Aziraphale had joined some resistance fighters, and performed quite a few miracles to go unseen to the ghettos and gather as many children as possible.

           He was currently waiting with them in an abandoned factory for Crowley to come give the all clear.

           “It won’t be long now,” he whispered.

           “Oi, angel.”

           Aziraphale looked up with a sigh of relief, seeing Crowley come inside, taking off his cap.

           Some of the children recognized his outfit and balked, and Aziraphale gave him a long-suffering look.

           “Sorry,” Crowley said with a roll of his eyes. “Didn’t have time to change.” He snapped his fingers and was in a normal black suit. “Now let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

           Together, they ushered the children to the nearest sewer entrance and Crowley went down first, reaching up to help the first children down.

           “Alright, come on, little ones.”

           Aziraphale urged them down the ladder and Crowley caught and counted them so they would know if any got left behind.

           It went well for the most part, until there was a shout, and flashing torches, coming in their direction.

           “Crowley, a patrol!” Aziraphale hissed down the hole.

           Crowley cursed and raised his arms. “Alright, the rest of you just jump. I’ll catch you!”

           The last few children did as they were told, too terrified not to. Aziraphale positioned himself in front of them, spreading his wings protectively though they were still invisible.

           The SS officers jogged around the corner and Aziraphale felt his heart beat faster as he saw they were not just Nazis but some of Crowley’s co-workers.

           “Go, go,” he hissed to the children. “Hurry, dears!”

           “Well, well, a halo out here after curfew,” one sneered, raising a pistol. “You know what we do to those who break the rules, don’t you?”

           “And you know what I’m obligated to do with demons,” Aziraphale said, straightening his shoulders.

           The demons chuckled cruelly. “I think we should take him in for…questioning,” the other suggested with a leer. “Angels always scream so pretty.”

           The last of the children were in the sewer now and Aziraphale hoped Crowley was starting off.

           “Aziraphale!” the muffled shout came. “Come on!”

           “Bugger,” Aziraphale breathed and simply turned to quickly descend.

           The demons shouted, and a shot rang out. Aziraphale felt something slam into his stomach and he yelped, snapping his fingers to replace the manhole cover and carve runes into it that would keep the demons from being able to open it.

           “Angel?”

           “I’m here, just go!” Aziraphale shouted to Crowley who was thankfully too far down the tunnel to see that he was injured.

           The bullet hurt far worse than it should have and Aziraphale realized, with a sinking feeling that it had probably been made to purposefully hurt angels. As soon as the demons had found out about their activity in the war, they had taken a certain pleasure in hunting them down, making a sport of it. Aziraphale had already had too many close calls and had really only escaped as many times as he had thanks to Crowley.

           But he swallowed the pain and urged the children forward, bringing up the rear as Crowley led from the front, his eyes better in the dark.

           Halfway to their destination, Aziraphale’s wound was burning. He could feel the blood dripping down, seeping into his clothes. He pressed his hand against it, but couldn’t heal himself until the bullet was out. He paused briefly to take a breath.

           “Are you okay?” a girl whispered.

           Aziraphale straightened with a smile. “I’m fine, just tired. We need to keep going.” He called up to Crowley. “How much farther?”

           “Not too far,” Crowley replied.

           And a few minutes later, a glow appeared indicating the end of the tunnel. They came out into the moonlit night and right where it was promised, a truck belonging to another resistance fighter was waiting, ready to bear the children to safety.

           “Ah, thank the Lord, we made it,” Aziraphale sighed in relief, trying not to cringe at the pain coming from his wound.

           Crowley cringed at his phrasing. “Yeah, right, well, let’s get the kids in here and get going.”

           The driver came out and helped them lift the children up into the back of the truck. They had just gotten the last ones in, when another truck came driving down the road.

           “Are you expecting anyone else?” Crowley asked the driver.

           The man shook his head. “No.”

           “We need to leave,” Crowley snapped, and he and Aziraphale climbed into the back of the truck too. Aziraphale almost cried out from his wound, but he bit his lip. He couldn’t have Crowley worrying over him now.

           “Angel!” Crowley said, tossing him a gun that Aziraphale barely caught. “We have to deter them.”

           Aziraphale pressed his lips into a disapproving line, but they were saving children and their pursuers were probably demons anyway. He cocked the gun and turned to the children. “Get down, all of you.”

           The truck started out with a jolt that sent pain wracking through Aziraphale and they trundled down the road. The other truck followed quickly.

           That is until Crowley, shouting to Aziraphale, started shooting the tires out.

           Aziraphale did the same and blew one out with perfect aim.

           The truck halted and angry shouts could be heard.

           Crowley whooped and turned around to grin at Aziraphale. “Nice shot, angel!”

           Aziraphale gave a weak smile, unable to hide the pain any longer. He gave a small, wet cough, and Crowley frowned in concern, moving to sit beside him.

           “Is that blood?” he asked, gesturing to Aziraphale’s shirt. “Aziraphale is that yourblood?” He reached out and pulled the angel’s coat open, revealing a shirt soaked in blood.

           Aziraphale wasn’t able to reply. He swallowed convulsively, but a little blood dribbled from his mouth and he felt himself drifting off. The last thing he heard was distressed sounds from the children as Crowley caught him when he collapsed sideways.

XXX

When Aziraphale awoke it was to a sunlit room and a comfortable bed with white sheets. He groaned, face scrunching in confusion.

           “Angel!”

           He blinked and turned his head to one side, seeing Crowley leaning over his bed.

           “Crowley?” he asked.

           The demon looked upset. “You idiot! Why didn’t you tell me you had been shot by a demonic bullet! You couldn’t have died!”

           “Had to get the children out,” Aziraphale said tiredly, putting a hand to his stomach where he felt bandages. It was tender, but nothing like it had been.

           Crowley ran a hand over his face, letting out a pent-up breath.

           “How are the children?” Aziraphale asked.

           “Fine, they’re all fine,” Crowley assured him. “Worried about you.”

           Aziraphale smiled slightly, touched. “Crowley, I am fine, you know, or, I will be soon enough.”

           The demon gave him a look. “Just don’t do that again.”

           “Believe me, I will endeavor not to,” Aziraphale said sincerely.

           “Well, you do that. And rest up. This isn’t the last of the kids we need to get out.”

           Aziraphale nodded and closed his eyes again. Next time he would do his best not to get shot.

[chicagospryde-a]

The Liberty Bell is a Replica || Piotr & Kitty

---HOUSED IN ITS ORIGINAL WALLS. WHAT: Kitty visits Piotr ( @colossalguy ). They have a healthy and fun conversation. No one dies and everything is as it should be. WHERE: Exactly where they should be. WHEN: Exactly when it needs to be. WHO: Exactly who has to be there.  WARNINGS: death, suicidal ideation, gore, violence, carl, depression, internalized homophobia, nothing is wrong and everything is exactly as it should be. 

       PIOTR sits up, his back aches with all the bending and picking up. His boxes of things are not particularly heavy, not for a man that knows all about fighting and carrying weights, but there is something about moving in to a place that is always taxing on the body. He’s thankful that Carl is here. And also not so thankful Carl decided to upturn half a hot sauce bottle on his bean burrito. He spends most of the time in Piotr’s washroom as the Russian works to set up his furniture and move his things around. “I am glad they paid for housing, New York is not kind with rent,” Piotr laughs. He knows Carl will laugh too, which is the only reason he tells the joke. It is not funny to him. It is not funny to know he profits from this life, it is not funny to think of all the people he has hurt. He picks up an old framed photo of him and Kitty, smiling beside the liberty bell (after hours in a place they shouldn’t be) and shoves it back into the box. He kicks that box to the corner and moves on to the one with his plates. When the floorboards creak behind him, he tells another joke he thinks Carl will laugh at, “if you fart when we go out on patrol tonight, I may have to turn you in for crimes of stench.”

Piotr is an enforcer. The words rang in Kitty’s head like the screaming echo of a horror movie, played on repeat until the tape burned and the reel could only sputter the same sentence in discordant starts and stops. Piotr is an enforcer. And he’d done something so unfathomable that Kitty had to see for herself, had to know with her own eyes and mind that he could be a man capable of true horror. She’d believed Lorna when she said it, shaking with anger. But she had to know for herself. Piotr gave her an astounding lack of information about his whereabouts, and yet, he’d neglected to remember his ex-fiancee was a hacker by practice. She’d found out where he was supposed to be easy enough, and even as her computer screen flickered with the truth, she knew she had to see him for herself. She moved like a ghost, not simply through walls as if they were nothing but an illusion, but as fragmented pieces of herself strung together by the weakest of tethers. The world could take so much; when did it start giving? She stood in his apartment, watching decorations slowly fill the space. Her own apartment was barren. His was filling with trinkets and furniture. Did the world start giving, or did she force it to give? His words confirmed something she already knew, but needed to feel in her mind. The picture in his hands confirmed something else, something she couldn’t yet pull into words. “Did you know that the liberty bell is a replica of itself?”

He knows that voice. He had loved, swooned for, smiled and laughed for that voice. Piotr perks up and turns. When the sight of Kitty Pryde enters his vision, he stands to his full height; so much taller than her, he’d never noticed before how much she becomes dwarfed. She always seemed larger to him, so bright and powerful. It seems wrong to see her like this, small and surrounding by walls that don’t belong to her. His fingers twitch. He desires to pick her up and take her to a home she knows, a place she belongs. “Yes,” he answers, “I know. You told me then. You said it was sad. I said sometimes things that are lost can be replaced, anything can be made into a home. Then you said that was sad. Then I kissed you. I remember this.” He remembers it all. He remembers the feeling of being in a place he does not belong. It feels a lot like it does now. He doesn’t like feeling like a liar, but homes can not be built. He has tried so many times. In Kitty, for Kitty; nothing is enough. Nothing is how he wants it, how it should be. He knows without asking why she’s here and he wants more time. He thinks of falling to his knees and begging her to give him another day of pretend. “There is another enforcer in the washroom. He had beans and hot sauce. He will be there a while.” 

Kitty nodded, her face remained still. She thought her brows were furrowed in anger, that her mouth was twisted into a snarl---but hot tears ran down quivering cheeks and her mouth remained closed. So much of her life was spent trying to figure out who Kitty Pryde was; the dork, the hero, the mutant, the Jewish girl, the woman who just wanted to be loved. In so many years, she’d never found the answer. “I remember too,” she responded, memories of a cold night playing dimly in the back of her head, drowned out by the film of Piotr is an enforcer. It was sad, she wanted to argue it now, even after all this time. It was sad to know a copy of something could sit inside a home and trick people into pretending---and that its flaws would be its most famous feature. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t be a copy of something that never was, and she never could really trick people. Her flaws rang loud in a way a cracked bell couldn’t. In so many years, she’d never figured out who Kitty Pryde was supposed to be. She was hoping someone would waltz in and give her the answer. There were days she felt close to knowing; huddled against Rachel, throwing popcorn at Bobby’s head, laughing with Kurt. There was a Kitty Pryde there, somewhere, inside a home. “Why?” She stepped closer to him, head tilted up to meet his impossible height. There was an idea of Kitty Pryde in his eyes too, she could feel it reflected back at her. He thought he knew her---wasn’t that funny? All these years and he thought he knew the answer to something even she couldn’t figure out. “Why?” She demanded again, apathy giving way to anger. 

There it is. Piotr had expected the anger, it doesn’t make him ready for it. “There is no answer that will please you,” he tells her, eyes shifted to the floor instead of into the intensity of her gaze. “I can not say anything that will make you happy, so I will not say anything at all.” So much of him is built around protecting others, protecting Kitty. What use is it explaining something he knows, just as well as she does, that can never be justified. A reason once existed, it feels like a lifetime ago that he thought this was his only option. There is some good he does, some mutants he has protected and some homes he has built...but homes can not be made. They can not be forced. The liberty bell is a replica and its walls aren’t and this makes Kitty sad and he does not know why. But he must say he does, he must know her. He must be the home she wants. He must have value in this way or else there is no value to be had at all. “There is nothing I can tell you, Katya.” And he does not like the feeling of lying. 

A marriage in the summer, Kitty suggested it. An open field, or a farm, Piotr wanted that. There were plans. They made plans together. There was a way that everything was supposed to be, a Kitty Pryde that married the first man she ever loved and grew a family up around him. A Kitty Pryde that could be happy and could be asked to believe in a world that offered light and hope. She reached her hand out and spread her fingers over his chest, the fabric of his shirt moved for her. Then she pushed, putting her hand through his chest until she could feel his heart around her fingers and she held it there, forced it to be steady for her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. There was an idea of Kitty Pryde, something she thought she might be able to chase after. A truth she could feel on the days with her arms around Rachel or with her hand in Illyana’s, or the night with her lips pressed to Donna’s. But Rachel was dead, Illyana’s life was made worse with Kitty’s presence, and Donna was a tragedy of its own operatic proportion. For so many years she had hoped one day she might reach a goal she couldn’t yet form into words. Now, she threw it all away. Kitty Pryde could not be herself, and there was a liberty bell somewhere that understood the feeling. “I could squeeze,” she rasped out with a coldness that shocked even herself, “I could squeeze and you’d be dead again.”

Piotr looks at the woman he loved, and shakes his head. Breathing is hard with her hand around his heart, but the feeling is nothing new to him. He feels himself collapsing around her and it’s his thoughts that keep him from kneeling over. Kitty is angry, she is always angry. She wants a fight, she always wants a fight. Piotr will not fight her, he doesn’t want to. He knows her, partly because she is a hard woman not to know. She breathes life and radiance and it is hard not to look. She might call herself a ghost, but Piotr has always thought of her as a wall. There. Yet, not quite. Something he could press against. But not go through. There are years and moments between them. Years and moments of knowing and understanding each other and maybe these moments are not perfect, but they exist and they beg to be known. She could squeeze on his heart if she wants, she could kill him if so pushed. He knows this, he knows her, and yet he leans down a lets his breath wash over her skin, “squeeze then.” He tell her. He forces his hand up to grip her wrist and he holds her there. “You may squeeze then. You may kill me right now and rid this world of a terror it does not need.” He knows she will not kill him, not today. She does not have it in her heart to become a murderer, he knows this. 

For all the good there was in Kitty Pryde, there was bad too. For every ounce of love, there was anger. For every bit of bravado, there was cowardice. Kitty doesn’t squeeze; there was so much of her that was more than one thing, more than she knew how to explain or express. She was more than pain, more than the choked sob she felt bubble up her body. More then the tears that lined her face and the way her brows pulled together in pain. These parts made up a woman she wanted to know, a woman she wished she knew and loved. She could feel his heart under her fingers and it would have been so easy to close her fist, phase his heart out of his chest and watch the damned thing bleed and throb on the hardwood flooring. She could almost feel it, and then she felt his hand around her wrist, easily held there. Did he want her to squeeze? To cross a line she’d never dared to before? To throw away all ideas of a woman she might one day know and love? She looked up, asking him silently. She didn’t want to be that Kitty--the one that could tear a heart out. She wanted him to prove to her that she could be something else.

Kitty could crush his heart in a way she hadn’t already and Piotr would not blame her. This is the nature of love. He knows Kitty, but he prays that she knows him just as well. That she knows that for all his own pain and anger, he does not want to leave this world, not until it is a better place than when he’d found it. To die dirtying Kitty’s hands with his blood is not the way he wants to go. But the choice is hers. “You will take care of Illyana,” he tells her; demands if this is the path she wants to tread. “You will forget whatever separates you two and you will grant me the wish of knowing she will forever be by your side. You will protect her in my place.” He closes his eyes and remembers laying with Kitty in open fields, beside a fake liberty bell, in beds that were theirs and some that weren’t. 

“Woah, woah, woah! What’s going on here?” Carl blinked, his mouth agape. He’d just finished his fourth bout of digestive-based regret, hands still wet from washing them thoroughly. He was happy to get started on re-assembling Piotr’s bookshelf, instead he found his friend talking to a woman who had her hand through his chest. It took him a moment, but the oddity of the scene caught up to him. Hands don’t go through chests, lucky for Carl, he didn’t need to be a genius to figure that one out. “This ain’t right! This ain’t the way things should be.” His momma taught him weird people don’t belong with the rest. Weird people like aliens and mutants and whatever fancy word there was out there for the folks with blue skin or glowing eyes. Piotr was a mutant, and he wasn’t so bad. It was a shame his momma wasn’t around anymore to learn that not everything was bad. But this, this was bad. Carl ran to his bag, digging around until he found his Enforcer-issued gun. “Oh, hey, wait-a-minute...I know her!” There was a mutant that gave him grief a while ago. Grief and a scar on his face. She looked normal, she was anything but. “Let my friend go, mutie!” He leveled the gun on her as her hand retracted out of Piotr’s chest. 

“Carl,” Piotr holds up his hands. He moves once Kitty pulls away from him and he stands between the two. “Carl, please. Put that away.” Carl doesn’t know Kitty, not really. Not like Piotr does. This could go bad. This could go very bad. “Please,” he asks again, growing a little more desperate with each word he has to repeat, “she’s okay---she’s okay---” He knows what Carl is going to say, and like clockwork he spouts out crap about unregistered mutants and the law that they need to be upholding. He starts on how she had been trying to kill him, how he knows exactly what she’s capable of. “You don’t know her,” Piotr begs, “please. I know her.”

It was so funny, so impossibly hilarious that Kitty knew it had to be a scripted joke somewhere, that people could know her. She hardly knew herself and there was a liberty bell somewhere that she could tell all about it---something that understood what it was like to be made and re-made and cracked and flawed. She laughed, clutching her stomach and throwing her head back. A different kind of tear came to her eye and she stepped through Piotr and towards the shaking Carl. “You want to shoot? Shoot! You can see what happens when you try to kill a ghost. Or should I show you?” She smirked between her anger, reaching out with ease to flip him on to his back, his gun clattering lamely out of his hands. “You get haunted, Carl. That’s what happens.” Kitty bent down, picking up the gun in her hands. She’d fired only a few before, she didn’t like them. Now, she aimed it right back at him. “I know you, Carl. You like to rough up the mutants before you condemn them into that hell hole. You like to hear them scream.” She tossed the gun aside with the flick of her wrist, tongue clicking. “You’re the worst kind of person.” She didn’t need a gun anyway. She phased her hand into his skull, lips pulled into a snarl. “Do you know what happens when I make my hand solid?”

“No!” Piotr screeches, cringing as he watches the scene unfold. He runs to Carl’s side, kneeling on the floor. He’s begging her now, like he thought he might a while ago. “Please, Kitty, you must calm down and...” he winces at his words. He knows she doesn’t like being told to calm down. It tends to make her angrier, but what else is he to say? He doesn’t know how else can he ask her not to go down a road he knows to be dark and lonely. It is no place for Kitty Pryde and his fingers twitch. He wants to carry her away to a world that is bright. A world that will not know this anger. “You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to kill him. Please, Katya, I know you.” Carl whimpers under her. He whispers nonsensically about a family and a daughter’s birthday. He does not realize the irony in having robbed other men of that privilege. Piotr can feel it now, but Carl is not a bad man. Just a misguided one. When they’d first met, he spat at Piotr’s feet. Now he shakes his hand and buys him lunch without asking. He is growing, and the world might too, if given the chance. He does not deserve to die. 

He was right about one thing at least, she doesn’t want to kill him. But anger surged through Kitty regardless and she spat in the man’s face. What of all the families he broke apart? Of all the horror he was responsible for? “You don’t know me. You have no idea who I am.” She growled, snapping her attention to Piotr. “Illyana is a demon. How do you expect me to deal with that? How can I take care of her? Of anyone?” Ghosts; they didn’t have the capacity to hold and love---and likewise, they could not be held or loved. “You don’t know me,” she thought of solidifying, watching Carl’s brain explode into pieces around them. Piotr’s new walls could be painted with red, and wasn’t red such a nice color? Instead, she stood up and released him, eyes narrowed on Piotr as Carl breathed out a sign of relief. “You know,” he started with a nervous laugh, “I really thought I was a goner there. Guess she’s really not capable of murde--” And then he screamed out in blood-curdling agony, clutching the place where his hand once was. As Carl droned on, Kitty had shifted, phasing her foot into his palm. Then she became tangible once more. It wasn’t his brain, but bits of his skin scattered around and red soaked Kitty’s shoes. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Bits of flesh and blood spray in Piotr’s face. He’d been right about one thing, at least. She wasn’t a murderer. It didn’t bring him any comfort. “Carl,” he blinks, glancing between his screaming friend and the woman he thinks he knows. “Kitty, you...” he rubs his face, smearing more blood and skin. Everything is messy and nothing is as it should be. Where did they do wrong? “He is going to bleed out if he do not get him to a hospital!” He collects himself and looks back up at Kitty. He cradles his crying friend in his arms, he whimpers still about a family and a birthday he wants to see. “I understand you are angry, Kitty, but this is not you. This is not...” he swallows. She said something about him not knowing her. He had to admit it was hard to follow along between the screaming and the blood. “Kitty,” he begs again, he feels like all he’s done the past few minutes is beg. He doesn’t know what else he can do. “Please, Katya...” He remembers a liberty bell and a cold night. He remembers a Kitty that tells him that she does not feel like a real thing; she is making and re-making herself. She is cracked too and he remembers kissing her instead of trying to figure out what it means. He tenses. He doesn’t know her. He never has. She is capable of murder. She can kill. Piotr also remembers a job he has to do. Urgency fades from his face and he looks up at her with true understanding. “You have changed,” he says calmly, “tell me, would you have killed him?” He frowns, “Did you ever love me?”

His question rang unanswered. Kitty turned her back and left through the same wall she phased into. Her thumping heart drowned out screaming, and the memory of the look on Piotr’s face chased away feeling of her shaking body---replaced instead with cold terror. She had claimed to be a ghost, but she didn’t know what this meant. All these years, and she still had no idea who Kitty Pryde was. She’d wanted to give way to anger, turn down a path and accept a new identity. Yet, she couldn’t even do that. She stood between two ideals, caught between all that she was and all that she was simply trying to be. For Piotr’s questions, she couldn’t answer. But she knew there was a landmark somewhere that could tell him a thing or two about being a dim echo of all the once was, the mockery of all that could be. A vision grew further and further apart and a shattered identity blew away at the first sign of turbulent winds.  Her shoes were red now, she couldn’t remember what color they were before.

----Everything is not as it should be. Nothing is right. “Okay” laid broken.

[siriusist]

Recommendations for Social Sciences Literature:

So as a recently graduated law student and lawyer (as well as being affected by many areas of intersectionality related below), I’ve been really into studying the social sciences and how society reflects how it treats the least of its citizens. My friend suggested that I draw up a list of recommendations for her, and share it with others as well. 

While my interest in these books might begin in how to consider the perspectives of others and consolidate my own point of view when representing a client, I can safely reassure you all that these are (for the most part) layperson books that I read in my spare time; not ridiculous legal dirges that will put you to sleep. All these books were spectacularly engaging for me, and I’d recommend them highly.

I’d also  like to preface this list with the fact that I educate myself on books that consider intersectionality and how the experiences of individual subsections of society affect society as a whole and an individual’s position in them. While as a result of the topics themselves these books often consider bigotry and sensitive issues/topics, they are academic considerations of societal constructs and demographics (as well as the history that grows from oppression of certain subsections of society), and attempt to be balanced academic/philosophical narratives. Therefore, while difficult topics might be broached (such as, for example, the discrimination transexual women face in being considered ‘women’), none that I have read would ever be intentionally insulting/ extremist in their views, and many are written by scholars and academics directly affected by these issues. Just research these books before purchasing them, is all I ask; for your own self-care. ♥

That being said, I have divided these recommendations into several areas of study. I will also mark when there is a decided crossover of intersectionality, for your benefit:

Feminist Theory: Mostly concerned with the limitation of womens emotions, the experience of women within Trump’s America, and the idealised liberation of women in 1960s, with a particular focus on the UK and ‘swinging’ London.

Disability Theory: Academic Ableism in post-educational facilities and within the immigration process.

Black Theory: This includes the relations between colonialism and the oppressed individual’s underneath its weight, the struggle through American’s history through ‘white rage’ towards the success of African-American success, and a sad history of racial ‘passing’ in America.

Immigration Theory: This mostly focuses on the experience of the disabled and Southern/Eastern Europeans/ Jewish people entering both Canada and the United States. It also provides this background to the immigration policies against a backdrop of social eugenics. I also included a book on the UK history of the workhouse in this category, as immigrants were often disproportionately affected by poverty once arriving in the UK/England, and often had to seek shelter in such ‘establishments.’

LGBT+ Social Theory/History: The history of transsexualism and the development of transexual rights throughout history.

Canadian Indigenous Theory/History: A history of the movements between the Indigenous peoples of North America and colonialists, as well as a two-part series on Canada’s Indian Act and Reconciliation (’Legalise’ aside in its consideration of the Indian Act, these are fantastic for the layperson to understand the effect such a document has had on the modern day issues and abuse of Indigenous people in Canada in particular, as well as how non-Indigenous people may work actively towards reconciliation in the future).

Toxic Masculinity: Angry White Men essentially tries to explain the unexplainable; namely, why there has been such a rise of the racist and sexist white American male, that eventually culminated in the election of Donald Trump (However, this really rings true for any ‘angry white men’ resulting from the rise of the far right across Europe and beyond). It is based on the idea of "aggrieved entitlement": a sense that those benefits that white men believed were their due have been snatched away from them by THE REST OF US~~~. While good, also just really expect to be mad (not in particular at the poor sociologist studying this and analysing this phenomenon, as he tries to be even-handed, but that such a thing exists at all).

1. Feminist Theory:

Rage Becomes Her: The Power of Women's Anger: 

As women, we’ve been urged for so long to bottle up our anger, letting it corrode our bodies and minds in ways we don’t even realize. Yet there are so, so many legitimate reasons for us to feel angry, ranging from blatant, horrifying acts of misogyny to the subtle drip, drip drip of daily sexism that reinforces the absurdly damaging gender norms of our society. In Rage Becomes Her, Soraya Chemaly argues that our anger is not only justified, it is also an active part of the solution. We are so often encouraged to resist our rage or punished for justifiably expressing it, yet how many remarkable achievements would never have gotten off the ground without the kernel of anger that fueled them? Approached with conscious intention, anger is a vital instrument, a radar for injustice and a catalyst for change. On the flip side, the societal and cultural belittlement of our anger is a cunning way of limiting and controlling our power—one we can no longer abide.

Nasty Women: Feminism, Resistance, and Revolution in Trump's America: 

Nasty Women includes inspiring essays from a diverse group of talented women writers who seek to provide a broad look at how we got here and what we need to do to move forward.Featuring essays by REBECCA SOLNIT on Trump and his “misogyny army,” CHERYL STRAYED on grappling with the aftermath of Hillary Clinton’s loss, SARAH HEPOLA on resisting the urge to drink after the election, NICOLE CHUNG on family and friends who support Trump, KATHA POLLITT on the state of reproductive rights and what we do next, JILL FILIPOVIC on Trump’s policies and the life of a young woman in West Africa, SAMANTHA IRBY on racism and living as a queer black woman in rural America, RANDA JARRAR on traveling across the country as a queer Muslim American, SARAH HOLLENBECK on Trump’s cruelty toward the disabled, MEREDITH TALUSAN on feminism and the transgender community, and SARAH JAFFE on the labor movement and active and effective resistance, among others.

(A heavy focus on intersectionality ♥)

The Feminine Revolution: 21 Ways to Ignite the Power of Your Femininity for a Brighter Life and a Better World: 

Challenging old and outdated perceptions that feminine traits are weaknesses, The Feminine Revolution revisits those characteristics to show how they are powerful assets that should be embraced rather than maligned. It argues that feminine traits have been mischaracterized as weak, fragile, diminutive, and embittered for too long, and offers a call to arms to redeem them as the superpowers and gifts that they are.The authors, Amy Stanton and Catherine Connors, begin with a brief history of when-and-why these traits were defined as weaknesses, sharing opinions from iconic females including Marianne Williamson and Cindy Crawford. Then they offer a set of feminine principles that challenge current perceptions of feminine traits, while providing women new mindsets to reclaim those traits with confidence. 

How Was It For You?: Women, Sex, Love and Power in the 1960s:

The sexual revolution liberated a generation. But men most of all.

We tend to think of the 60s as a decade sprinkled with stardust: a time of space travel and utopian dreams, but above all of sexual abandonment. When the pill was introduced on the NHS in 1961 it seemed, for the first time, that women - like men - could try without buying.

But this book - by 'one of the great social historians of our time' - describes a turbulent power struggle.

Here are the voices from the battleground. Meet dollybird Mavis, debutante Kristina, Beryl who sang with the Beatles, bunny girl Patsy, Christian student Anthea, industrial campaigner Mary and countercultural Caroline. From Carnaby Street to Merseyside, from mods to rockers, from white gloves to Black is Beautiful, their stories throw an unsparing spotlight on morals, four-letter words, faith, drugs, race, bomb culture and sex.

This is a moving, shocking book about tearing up the world and starting again. It's about peace, love, psychedelia and strange pleasures, but it is also about misogyny, violation and discrimination - half a century before feminism rebranded. For out of the swamp of gropers and groupies, a movement was emerging, and discovering a new cause: equality.

The 1960s: this was where it all began. Women would never be the same again.

2. Disability Theory:

Academic Ableism: Disability and Higher Education: 

Academic Ableism brings together disability studies and institutional critique to recognize the ways that disability is composed in and by higher education, and rewrites the spaces, times, and economies of disability in higher education to place disability front and center. For too long, argues Jay Timothy Dolmage, disability has been constructed as the antithesis of higher education, often positioned as a distraction, a drain, a problem to be solved. The ethic of higher education encourages students and teachers alike to accentuate ability, valorize perfection, and stigmatize anything that hints at intellectual, mental, or physical weakness, even as we gesture toward the value of diversity and innovation. Examining everything from campus accommodation processes, to architecture, to popular films about college life, Dolmage argues that disability is central to higher education, and that building more inclusive schools allows better education for all.

(See immigration below for another book by this author on the intersection between immigration policy and disability).

3. Black Theory:

Black Skin, White Masks by Frantz Fanon: 

A major influence on civil rights, anti-colonial, and black consciousness movements around the world, Black Skin, White Masks is the unsurpassed study of the black psyche in a white world. Hailed for its scientific analysis and poetic grace when it was first published in 1952, the book remains a vital force today from one of the most important theorists of revolutionary struggle, colonialism, and racial difference in history.

White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism: 

Referring to the defensive moves that white people make when challenged racially, white fragility is characterized by emotions such as anger, fear, and guilt, and by behaviors including argumentation and silence. These behaviors, in turn, function to reinstate white racial equilibrium and prevent any meaningful cross-racial dialogue. In this in-depth exploration, the author examines how white fragility develops, how it protects racial inequality, and what we can do to engage more constructively.

White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide: 

From the Civil War to our combustible present, and now with a new epilogue about the 2016 presidential election, acclaimed historian Carol Anderson reframes our continuing conversation about race. White Rage chronicles the powerful forces opposed to black progress in America. As Ferguson, Missouri, erupted in August 2014, and media commentators across the ideological spectrum referred to the angry response of African Americans as “black rage,” historian Carol Anderson wrote a remarkable op-ed in the Washington Post showing that this was, instead, “white rage at work. With so much attention on the flames,” she writes, “everyone had ignored the kindling.”Since 1865 and the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment, every time African Americans have made advances towards full participation in our democracy, white reaction has fueled a deliberate and relentless rollback of their gains. The end of the Civil War and Reconstruction was greeted with the Black Codes and Jim Crow; the Supreme Court's landmark 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision was met with the shutting down of public schools throughout the South while taxpayer dollars financed segregated white private schools; the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and Voting Rights Act of 1965 triggered a coded but powerful response, the so-called Southern Strategy and the War on Drugs that disenfranchised millions of African Americans while propelling presidents Nixon and Reagan into the White House.Carefully linking these and other historical flashpoints when social progress for African Americans was countered by deliberate and cleverly crafted opposition, Anderson pulls back the veil that has long covered actions made in the name of protecting democracy, fiscal responsibility, or protection against fraud, rendering visible the long lineage of white rage. Compelling and dramatic in the unimpeachable history it relates, White Rage will add an important new dimension to the national conversation about race in America.

A Chosen Exile: A History of Racial Passing in American Life:

 Between the eighteenth and mid-twentieth centuries, countless African Americans passed as white, leaving behind families and friends, roots and community. It was, as Allyson Hobbs writes, a chosen exile, a separation from one racial identity and the leap into another. This revelatory history of passing explores the possibilities and challenges that racial indeterminacy presented to men and women living in a country obsessed with racial distinctions. It also tells a tale of loss.As racial relations in America have evolved so has the significance of passing. To pass as white in the antebellum South was to escape the shackles of slavery. After emancipation, many African Americans came to regard passing as a form of betrayal, a selling of one’s birthright. When the initially hopeful period of Reconstruction proved short-lived, passing became an opportunity to defy Jim Crow and strike out on one’s own.Although black Americans who adopted white identities reaped benefits of expanded opportunity and mobility, Hobbs helps us to recognize and understand the grief, loneliness, and isolation that accompanied―and often outweighed―these rewards. By the dawning of the civil rights era, more and more racially mixed Americans felt the loss of kin and community was too much to bear, that it was time to “pass out” and embrace a black identity. Although recent decades have witnessed an increasingly multiracial society and a growing acceptance of hybridity, the problem of race and identity remains at the center of public debate and emotionally fraught personal decisions.

4. Immigration Theory:

The Guarded Gate: Bigotry, Eugenics and the Law That Kept Two Generations of Jews, Italians, and Other European Immigrants Out of America:  

A forgotten, dark chapter of American history with implications for the current day, The Guarded Gate tells the story of the scientists who argued that certain nationalities were inherently inferior, providing the intellectual justification for the harshest immigration law in American history. Brandished by the upper class Bostonians and New Yorkers—many of them progressives—who led the anti-immigration movement, the eugenic arguments helped keep hundreds of thousands of Jews, Italians, and other unwanted groups out of the US for more than 40 years.Over five years in the writing, The Guarded Gate tells the complete story from its beginning in 1895, when Henry Cabot Lodge and other Boston Brahmins launched their anti-immigrant campaign. In 1921, Vice President Calvin Coolidge declared that “biological laws” had proven the inferiority of southern and eastern Europeans; the restrictive law was enacted three years later.

Disabled Upon Arrival: Eugenics, Immigration, and the Construction of Race and Disability: 

In North America, immigration has never been about immigration. That was true in the early twentieth century when anti-immigrant rhetoric led to draconian crackdowns on the movement of bodies, and it is true today as new measures seek to construct migrants as dangerous and undesirable. This premise forms the crux of Jay Timothy Dolmage’s new book Disabled Upon Arrival: Eugenics, Immigration, and the Construction of Race and Disability, a compelling examination of the spaces, technologies, and discourses of immigration restriction during the peak period of North American immigration in the early twentieth century.Through careful archival research and consideration of the larger ideologies of racialization and xenophobia, Disabled Upon Arrival links anti-immigration rhetoric to eugenics—the flawed “science” of controlling human population based on racist and ableist ideas about bodily values. Dolmage casts an enlightening perspective on immigration restriction, showing how eugenic ideas about the value of bodies have never really gone away and revealing how such ideas and attitudes continue to cast groups and individuals as disabled upon arrival. 

The Workhouse: The People, The Places, The Life Behind Doors:

In this fully updated and revised edition of his best-selling book, Simon Fowler takes a fresh look at the workhouse and the people who sought help from it. He looks at how the system of the Poor Law - of which the workhouse was a key part - was organized and the men and women who ran the workhouses or were employed to care for the inmates. But above all this is the moving story of the tens of thousands of children, men, women and the elderly who were forced to endure grim conditions to survive in an unfeeling world. 

5. LGBT+ Social Theory/History:

Transgender History: The Roots of Today's Revolution:

Covering American transgender history from the mid-twentieth century to today, Transgender History takes a chronological approach to the subject of transgender history, with each chapter covering major movements, writings, and events. Chapters cover the transsexual and transvestite communities in the years following World War II; trans radicalism and social change, which spanned from 1966 with the publication of The Transsexual Phenomenon, and lasted through the early 1970s; the mid-'70s to 1990-the era of identity politics and the changes witnessed in trans circles through these years; and the gender issues witnessed through the '90s and '00s.

Transgender History includes informative sidebars highlighting quotes from major texts and speeches in transgender history and brief biographies of key players, plus excerpts from transgender memoirs and discussion of treatments of transgenderism in popular culture.

6. Canadian Indigenous Theory/History:

The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America: 

Rich with dark and light, pain and magic, The Inconvenient Indian distills the insights gleaned from Thomas King's critical and personal meditation on what it means to be "Indian" in North America, weaving the curiously circular tale of the relationship between non-Natives and Natives in the centuries since the two first encountered each other. In the process, King refashions old stories about historical events and figures, takes a sideways look at film and pop culture, relates his own complex experiences with activism, and articulates a deep and revolutionary understanding of the cumulative effects of ever-shifting laws and treaties on Native peoples and lands. 

21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act: Helping Canadians Make Reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples a Reality:

Since its creation in 1876, the Indian Act has shaped, controlled, and constrained the lives and opportunities of Indigenous Peoples, and is at the root of many enduring stereotypes. Bob Joseph's book comes at a key time in the reconciliation process, when awareness from both Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities is at a crescendo. Joseph explains how Indigenous Peoples can step out from under the Indian Act and return to self-government, self-determination, and self-reliance - and why doing so would result in a better country for every Canadian. He dissects the complex issues around truth and reconciliation, and clearly demonstrates why learning about the Indian Act's cruel, enduring legacy is essential for the country to move toward true reconciliation.

Indigenous Relations: Insights, Tips & Suggestions to Make Reconciliation a Reality:

A timely sequel to the bestselling 21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act - and an invaluable guide for anyone seeking to work more effectively with Indigenous Peoples.

We are all treaty people. But what are the everyday impacts of treaties, and how can we effectively work toward reconciliation if we're worried our words and actions will unintentionally cause harm?

Practical and inclusive, Indigenous Relations interprets the difference between hereditary and elected leadership, and why it matters; explains the intricacies of Aboriginal Rights and Title, and the treaty process; and demonstrates the lasting impact of the Indian Act, including the barriers that Indigenous communities face and the truth behind common myths and stereotypes perpetuated since Confederation.

Indigenous Relations equips you with the necessary knowledge to respectfully avoid missteps in your work and daily life, and offers an eight-part process to help business and government work more effectively with Indigenous Peoples - benefitting workplace culture as well as the bottom line. Indigenous Relations is an invaluable tool for anyone who wants to improve their cultural competency and undo the legacy of the Indian Act.

7. Toxic Masculinity:

Angry White Men: American Masculinity at the End of an Era: 

One of the headlines of the 2012 Presidential campaign was the demise of the white American male voter as a dominant force in the political landscape. On election night four years later, when Donald Trump was announced the winner, it became clear that the white American male voter is alive and well and angry as hell. Sociologist Michael Kimmel, one of the leading writers on men and masculinity in the world today, has spent hundreds of hours in the company of America's angry white men – from white supremacists to men's rights activists to young students. In Angry White Men, he presents a comprehensive diagnosis of their fears, anxieties, and rage.Kimmel locates this increase in anger in the seismic economic, social and political shifts that have so transformed the American landscape. Downward mobility, increased racial and gender equality, and a tenacious clinging to an anachronistic ideology of masculinity has left many men feeling betrayed and bewildered. Raised to expect unparalleled social and economic privilege, white men are suffering today from what Kimmel calls "aggrieved entitlement": a sense that those benefits that white men believed were their due have been snatched away from them.

Happy reading, everyone. ♥

[gleeandintersectionality]

         Intersectionality was first defined by scholar Kimberle Krenshaw and was described as a ‘but for’ analysis- I would have received that job ‘but for’ my race, I would have gotten that promotion ‘but for’ my gender” (Molina-Guzman and Cacho 72). Intersectionality “challenges predominant understandings of race and gender as discrete social identities shaped by and formative of distinct social experiences” (Molina-Guzman and Cacho 72). Intersectionality is ultimately the overlapping of different identities like race, gender, and sexual orientation that make an individual’s life more challenging as they identify with multiple minorities. For example, Krenshaw specifically addresses how black women can experience sex and race discrimination (Molina-Guzman and Cacho 72). Intersectionality can be found in the characters on FOX’s teen comedy-drama, Glee. This blog will focus on mainly on Mercedes, a black woman, Santana, a Latina lesbian, and Unique, a black trans woman. 

         On Glee, there is constant competition between the two arguably strongest female singers of the club: Rachel Berry and Mercedes Jones. Rachel is Jewish, but light skinned and Mercedes is black. Throughout the series, Rachel receives many solo numbers, while Mercedes is denied the same opportunity. Dubrofsky explains how Mercedes is seen only performing music by black artists and being denied solos because of her attitude: “If Mercedes is presented as having the talent and appropriate voice for a solo, she is portrayed as lacking the drive or the ability to tame her emotions to claim center stage, reproducing stereotypes of the angry black woman” (91). While Rachel has the right voice for every genre of music, Mercedes is pegged by her race. To make sure audiences don’t call Glee racist, they act as if it is Mercedes’ lack of ambition and drive that denies her solos. When auditioning for the school musical, West Side Story, Rachel and Mercedes both audition for the role of Maria. The play directors are impressed and shocked with Mercedes’ audition expressing how they have “never seen Mercedes so ‘glamorous’” (Dubrofsky 96). This could be seen as whitening Mercedes into an elegant, classy performer igniting a reaction and performance typical of Rachel. However, after Mercedes’ stunning performance, the play directors are still torn about who to cast: “Rachel appears not only the safer choice, but the obvious one—seamlessly, unquestionably having what it takes to play the role, while Mercedes is an assumed risk. Why Rachel possesses what it takes, and what the doubts are about Mercedes, are never specified” (Dubrofsky 97). While neither girl fits the role of Maria who is Puerto Rican, it is never explained why Mercedes would be the riskier choice or why Rachel is the stronger performer. Dubrofsky explains show Glee shows “whiteness as an undefined but everpresent and desirable quality” (97). This scene shows that if you want to be leading lady material you have to be white or light skinned. 

          The person who mostly gets blamed for selecting solo performances is Mr. Schuester, the white and male Glee club teacher who gives Rachel a plethora of solos. It is not until season three that Mercedes calls out Mr. Schuester on his biased attitude: “You give that skinny Garanimals-wearing ass-kisser everything. For two years I took it. Not anymore” (Futterman par. 5). For two years, Mercedes has accepted her lack of solos, but in season three, Mercedes becomes outspoken and confronts the situation head on. She knows she is a star and will no longer play second fiddle to Rachel. The episode ends with Mercedes joining a new glee club. Because of Mercedes’ race she works twice as hard as Rachel and the other white glee members to be seen as talented and multi dimensional. Mercedes wants to be more than a stereotype and show that she can sing all genres of music and display a range of emotions. This shows intersectionality as Mercedes being a black woman has to work twice as hard against the light skinned Rachel to get what she wants. 

        The next character I will be discussing is Santana Lopez. Santana applies to intersectionality because she is a woman, Latina, and a lesbian. When discovering her sexuality, Jacobs explains how compared to Kurt, a white male gay student, Santana’s coming out is even more challenging as she is isolated from other gay women and particularly gay women of color (339). Besides her sexuality, Santana's ethnicity marks her even more as an outcast as she identifies with two minorities and therefore lacks people similar to her within her small town and high school. Jacobs also discusses the rejection Santana faces from her grandmother when she comes out to her. Jacobs explains how it is not shocking that the “only overtly homophobic adult is an old, Catholic Hispanic woman, aligning phobia with a benighted, ethnic/ racial religiosity” (342). This shows how age, religion, and ethnicity affect how one responds to gay people. Since Santana’s family is Latin, they are strongly religious and therefore do not accept homosexuality. In comparison to Kurt Hummel whose father immediately accepts him, Santana faces rejection because of her family’s ethnicity and religion. 

          Villagomez also discusses the pivotal moment of Santana’s coming out to her abuela. The rejection Santana experiences after coming out “not only showed the rejection LGBT’s face (or fear facing) when coming out, but the rejection Latinos specifically encounter which, usually, can be related to strong religious and cultural beliefs” (Villagomez 1). This shows that although all LGBT teens may fear coming out, many Latinos have it harder because of their family’s strong religious beliefs that go against homosexuality. This is the case with Santana’s abuela as she says that Santana has committed a sin (Villagomez 2). Villagomez further explains how Santana’s rejection shows how emotional and complicated coming out can be. Santana was also the only gay character on Glee to face rejection and ultimately showed LGBT teens that it may be better “to leave the negative people out of their life, especially after you’ve given the relationship and seach for acceptance your all” (Villagomez 2). 

         In the series, Santana forms a relationship with Brittany who is white. Through their relationship, they experience unfair treatment compared to the straight couples at school. Gilchrist touches upon this when Principal Figgins finds Santana and Brittany leaning in for a kiss and interrupts them. Santana interjects “This is such bullcrap! Why can’t Brittany and I kiss in public? Because we’re two girls” (Gilchrist 2). Figgins explains how the high school does not allow any types of PDA between any couples, but alas, he has been receiving complaints about Brittany and Santana’s relationship. Santana asks if any complaints have been made about Finn and Rachel who are publicly making out in the hallway. As a new religion club has began at the high school, Figgins is attempting to stop Brittany and Santana from kissing to make those who are religious feel comfortable. Santana clearly upset says, “All I want to do is be able to kiss my girlfriend but I guess no one can see that because there’s such an insane double standard at this school” (Gilchrist 2). Referring to how Finn and Rachel and other straight couples get away with kissing in the hallways, Santana is frustrated because she is denied this right because she is gay. As the religion club sends singing Valentine grams for straight couples, Santana requests one for Brittany. After praying about it and having a long discussion, the club decides to sing for Brittany and Santana. This shows how Brittany and Santana are not given the same privileges as their straight couples at school and must hide their relationship to make their straight peers feel more comfortable. 

         Snarker focuses more on Brittany and Santana’s relationship by discussing how media does not highlight their relationship and oftentimes focuses more on the gay men in relationships. In an article by EW, they claimed: “Kurt is the most important character on television right now” (Snarker par. 13). Snarker explains that although the way Kurt deals with being gay in a disapproving world is inspiring, she wishes more people would focus on Brittany and Santana’s relationship, saying, “For gay women, Brittana is every bit as engaging, albeit on a smaller scale, than Kurt is for gay men. Their legitimate, if unlabeled, relationships matter to us. We’d like it if it mattered to you, too” (par. 15). Snarker also points out that when the media does address Brittany, they address her relationship with Artie, a boy, rather than with Santana as Brittany is sexually fluid within the series (par. 10). Just like being white was preferred for Mercedes, being straight is seen as the preferred norm on Glee. Brittany and Santana align with intersectionality as they get outcasted within their school and get ignored by the media. 

        I will now be moving on to Unique Adams, an African American trans woman. When Unique first joins the glee club, she wants to perform in women's clothes. Mercedes and Kurt, both fear the reaction Unique will receive with Kurt saying, “ ‘I’ve worn some flamboyant outfits, but I’ve never dressed up as a woman.’ To which Unique replies ‘That’s because you identify yourself as a man. I thought you of all people would understand’ ” (Kane par. 4). This shows how even members of the LGBT community like Kurt still misunderstand transgender individuals and label them inaccurately. 

        One of Unique's biggest plot lines in Glee is when she catfishes Ryder Lynn, a heterosexual white male, as a girl named “Katie.” As Sandercock explains Unique takes on an identity unlike her own: “Unique portrays herself online as a thin, white, blonde, cisgender woman – a hegemonic ideal of beauty – an identity and embodiment that exists in opposition to her as a large, black, trans woman” (442). Sandercock further explains, “This highlights the intersectional nature of gender, race and beauty ideals that impact on the marginalisation of trans women of colour. Her avatar reveals beliefs about what is most beautiful and desirable, and her fears of embodying none of these ideals” (442). Unique knows that as a black trans woman she does not embody the standard of beauty which is white, thin, and cisgendered. Through becoming Katie, she is trying to disown her intersectionality and become the image that is desired most in society. Ryder is mean and lashes out at Unique in real life for not understanding her gender identity. Unique tells him that she is a “proud black woman” (Sandercock 442). He decides to mention Unique and how he feels about her to Katie. Katie replies, “This Wade/ Unique guy believes he is a girl. He doesn’t need any proof. It’s his truth. And like what you said, what’s true is true” (Sandercock 443). After this, Ryder changes his point of view about Unique, however Unique has already told Ryder that she is a woman, yet he only believes it when it comes from Katie. Sandercock explains how “this highlights the role of race but also the economy of desire whereby ‘loving’ Unique becomes crucial to winning the affection of ‘Katie’ who intersectionally embodies normative femininity, whiteness and cisness” (443). This scenario shows that trans people and people of color know they are not the image of ideal beauty, and therefore, are insecure about the way they are seen and if they will find romantic love. This scene also shows that white, cisgender and heterosexual people may only accept and believe in those who are trans, gay or black only when it is explained and accepted by someone similar to them. 

          Glee portrays a vast range of races, genders, and sexualities through their characters. Intersectional characters teach audiences the difficulties of being a part of multiple minorities and how it affects their lives. Although Glee can be controversial in its representations, it ultimately shows that those applying to intersectionality experience specific hardships that white, straight, and cisgendered individuals do not understand.

[pellucidthings]

For the fandom meme: 4, 9, 10, 14

4. Favorite books read this year

Well, I taught Mrs. Dalloway this year and therefore reread it for approximately the 42nd time, and it is always the first answer to this question.

But for books I read for the first time this year, a few standouts:

The Weight of Ink by Rachel Kadish simultaneously tells the story of two 21st-century researchers and the Jewish refugees in 17th-century London whose story they are discovering from a new manuscript cache, so it pushes MANY of my fiction buttons. There are a couple of moments where I wish her editor had reined her in a little, but overall, recommend, especially if you like historical fiction.

Rather behind the times here, but I finally got around to reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which is of course excellent on so many levels. But what I didn’t realize about that book is how it is as much about the writing of the book as it is about its subject matter, and I really love that about it.

And after Kazuo Ishiguro won the Nobel in 2017 I decided to catch up on some of his novels I had not already read, and only got around to reading one. But The Buried Giant was fantastic, and I thought it did an even better job than the more-celebrated Never Let Me Go of living in that liminal space between genres. (In TBG it’s between historical fiction and fantasy, and in NLMG it’s between contemporary realism and dystopia/science fiction, of course.)

9. Best new fandom discovery of the year

Early in the year, pictures of this pretty witch pairing started appearing on my dash. I went looking for more, skipped from the pilot to “The Spelling Bee” and then straight to AO3, and became thoroughly hooked on The Worst Witch.

My favorite part of this, without a doubt, has been the nature of the fandom itself. I took a pretty long fandom hiatus between roughly 2010-2016, and since I’ve been back, I’ve struggled a little bit with the way fandom (or at least the fandoms I’ve been participating in) works differently than it used to. And The Worst Witch fandom is the first thing I’ve found that feels dear and familiar and cozy and makes me want to party like it’s 2007 or something. It’s so fic-centric!!! There is so much fic, and it’s so good!!!! And people comment and kudos like crazy!!!! And it’s overall such a generative, creative space, with people filling in gaps and fleshing out characters and exploring but also pushing beyond the confines of canon, and truly embracing the spirit of transformative work in a way I have not gotten to participate in for quite some time. It has been delighting the hell out of me, and I look forward to continuing to have it as my primary fannish space.

10. Biggest fandom disappointment of the year

Oh god. In January, Craig McLachlan, star of The Doctor Blake Mysteries, was credibly accused of sexual harassment. This kicked off a whole series of things that has resulted in the end of a show I had been quite enjoying (and to be clear: under the circumstances I’m very glad it ended, but still) and my inability to rewatch the existing stuff because Lucien has CM’s face and it makes me angry every time I see it. So, you know, fuck that guy.

I will say, though, that the tumblr-based Blake fandom has been really tremendous through all of this, and it’s been lovely to watch this group of women who have negotiated a range of challenging circumstances and emotions with so much grace.

14. Favorite m/f ship of the year

Hmm, probably have to go with Jennifer Mapplethorpe/Nick Buchanan from City Homicide for this one. Jen has One of the Best Faces, Nick is one of the very few fictional dudes I truly like for himself and not just because he loves my girl (though he does), and they legit got a canonical undercover married plot. 

(Ask me more end of year fandom things.)

[fuck-customers]

My favorite coworker is leaving us to go work somewhere better, so I wanted to tell my favorite stories involving her, as a commemoration of sorts. She was so funny and nice, and loved everyone she worked with, and I'm going to miss her so much.

She made cake every time it was one of our front end coworker's birthdays. She'd ask what they liked the most, and make one and leave it in the break room, even if she wasn't scheduled that day. 

She left sticky notes with cute little drawings and inspirational messages all over the place from the back of the store to the front offices. None of the customers ever minded, and we all loved seeing them. Even regional managers turned a blind eye to it, since she got such great reviews as a cashier.

When customers would flirt with her and refuse no for an answer, she would say things that would range from "Ew" to "This is a grocery store. If you're that desperate for a girl to pretend to like you, go to a strip club."

She'd yell, "Don't touch me!" every time a man grabbed or groped her. Since she was so vocal about it, other customers would notice and get upset on her behalf. She knew exactly how to work a crowd to be in her favor.

In the five years she worked with us (she started when she was sixteen), she missed only three shifts, which is ridiculously impressive compared to the other workers we have that are her age.

When she was asked why she was always jumping on the opportunity to cover shifts, she said "I have no social life and I need the funds to feed my video game addiction," with completely sincerity.

She was a genius when it came to dealing with angry customers and scammers. I don't know how she did it, but even the worst of our regulars loved her, even though she never gave them discounts to appease them.

She showed up to work half asleep and in pajamas so frequently (because she would forget to change into her uniform when she had an early morning shift) that we kept a spare for her in the manager's office.

She got yelled at sometimes when she would return the greeting "Merry Christmas" with "happy holidays." She'd wait until they were done ranting, and then she'd say "I'm Jewish." It was funny every time, and never failed to shut the person up. She'd always have to duck down behind the register to laugh afterwards.

The store manager actually cried when she got an internship at an IT company and put in her two weeks. So did a lot of the other employees.

We're all making her a huge going-away card and she's getting lots of gift cards. She made work fun for so many of us. I hope wherever she ends up working at, that those people appreciate her. She deserves the best.

[bonerpillz-blog]

You Never Really Loved Me - Reddie

One year anniversaries are always supposed to be filled with love and celebration. Not heartache and the loss of someone you never saw something like this coming from…

hey guys so originally i was going to make this a stenbrough oneshot (bc i love my gay sons and they are underrated) but my friend convinced me to make this a reddie oneshot instead soooooo i hope that’s okay. i will 100% be writing some stenbrough stuff soon!

also, a quick thank you for 150 followers wow i love you all

i hope you enjoy this! -E

Warnings - swearing, cheating

Word Count - 2.3k

1 year.

In 5 days, Eddie and Richie’s one year anniversary would be present.

The two boys had been friends for years and on Eddie’s 17th birthday, Richie had brought him on a drive to nowhere in particular. They laughed and talked and listened to music and at the end of the night, laying in the back of Richie’s pick up truck, Richie had asked Eddie to be his boyfriend.

The two had never really discussed their feelings for one another, they just knew that something was there. Something more.

About a month or so later, they shared their first kiss. They were hidden up in Eddie’s room behind a locked door reading comic books and giggling about nothing in particular. Eddie couldn’t recall how it happened or who made the first move thanks to the fact that all he could focus on was the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach. Before he knew it though, Richie’s hand was on the back of Eddie’s head, gripping his hair. Eddie never really understood how people didn’t think kissing was gross, but this was the furthest thing from.

They mutually agreed to keep their relationship a secret for awhile, not wanting to deal with the losers constantly bothering them about it. They’d hold hands under blankets, and exchange quick kisses when no one was looking.

7 months in, Richie told Eddie that he loved him.

Once again they were partaking in one of their favorite activities, other than making out of course. Richie sped down the empty backroad, Eddie not even protesting. He was too busy screaming the lyrics to Jessie’s Girl as the wind from the rolled down windows blew through brown hair. Richie was smiling like an idiot, letting out a laugh here and there.

And she's watching him with those eyes

And she's loving him with that body, I just know it

Yeah 'n' he's holding her in his arms late, late at night

Eddie was happy and Richie could see it as the words flew past the shorter boy’s lips.

Richie even joined Eddie, screaming the lyrics to the chorus with him.

I wish that I had Jessie's girl

I wish that I had Jessie's girl

Where can I find a woman like that

Eddie stopped singing, laughing at Richie. Not to make fun of him but because he couldn’t imagine how much greater this could be. Eddie couldn’t wish for anything better than Richie.

Richie looked away from the road and right into Eddie’s already staring eyes. “I love you, ya know,” he stated as if it were the simplest thing to say.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “You- you love me?”

Richie just nodded. He didn’t need Eddie to say it back if he wasn’t ready, he just needed him to know. But Eddie did say it back. In fact, he cried it back. Tears streaming down his face as the music continued, wrapping them into their own little world.

Richie gave a big, toothy grin, pulling Eddie over to him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he continued to drive and sing into Eddie’s ear.

10 months. 10 months is when Richie made a mistake he vowed to never make again.

Richie was home alone, something he was luckily able to do often. He was sat on the couch in the living room watching one of the Nightmare on Elm Street movies though he didn’t pay attention to which one it was.

He wasn’t paying too much attention so when the doorbell rang, he heard it right away.

Richie groaned, getting up from the couch to get the door. He wasn’t expecting Eddie today, he was stuck at home with his mom.

Richie opened the door, rubbing his eye with his sweatshirt covered palm to see a crying Stan. His hand dropped to his side, instantly skeptical about the situation.

“Stan? What are you doing here?” Richie questioned, still completely confused as to why Stan was at his house and more so, why was Stan crying at his house?

“Can I come in?” Stanley asked, a little too quiet.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows. “Am I being pranked?”

“Bill’s busy so I came to you but if you’re just going to make jokes as always then you can fuck off.” Stan replied, attempting to sound angry but failing.

Richie shook his head, stepping aside. “No no it’s fine I just wasn’t expecting this. Come on in.”

Richie watched the weak looking boy step inside, not moving other than the slight shakiness of his figure. He closed the door and pulled Stan slowly to the couch, sitting down with him.

Richie wasn’t used to comforting his friends - or anyone for that matter. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do but he knew he had to be serious as Stanley never showed up at his house like this.

“What’s going on?” Richie asked, deciding to keep his questions simple.

Stan sniffled before letting out another sob, only able to speak the words, “My dad.”

Richie instantly knew what Stanley was talking about. Stanley had never told him directly but Richie knew that because Stanley was Jewish, his father refused to accept the fact that his son was gay. Stanley always went to Bill during situations like this, but as Stan said, Bill was busy today.

Richie wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing so instead, he just pulled Stanley into a hug, wrapping his arms around the crying boy’s neck and holding on tight. He could feel Stanley’s sobs against his own body and it broke Richie’s heart to see his friend this way. Richie closed his eyes, rubbing small circles in Stanley’s back until he finally began to calm down.

The room was filled with a silence, thankfully not uncomfortable. Stanley pulled away, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Sorry about that.” He murmured.

“It’s okay.” Richie replied plainly.

It was silent again but this time they just sort of stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to say or do next.

Richie cleared his throat, “Well if you wanna stay you ca-“

Richie was cut off by Stanley’s lips crammed against his. Richie didn’t kiss back, instead sitting there with wide eyes until Stanley pulled away, a blush instantly rising to his face. “Fuck I’m- Oh god I’m sorry I- I should go.” Stanley stammered over his words, standing up to leave but Richie had other plans.

He stood, grabbing Stanley’s arm and pulling him back, pressing his lips to Stanley's once again only this time, Richie knew exactly what was going on. He wasn’t even thinking about Eddie, about his boyfriend of 10 months. He was only thinking about Stanley.

Richie pulled them both backward, collapsing onto the couch once again with Stanley straddling Richie’s hips. Their lips didn’t break apart once, in fact, their kiss was now deeper. Tongues were exploring mouths, hands were all over skin and tangled between hair.

Richie’s heart pinged against his rib cage, feeling about ready to explode.

Richie never once thought about Eddie.

Richie avoided Stanley after that. He eventually realized what he did was wrong and that he could never let it happen again. He needed to tell Eddie. He needed to tell his boyfriend.

He found himself walking to the entrance of the school as soon as the final bell rung, not even waiting for Beverly to meet him outside of his last class. Richie was steps away from the glass double doors when he was pulled aside into a nearby classroom by the one and only, Stanley Uris.

Stanley looked pissed, understandably. 10 months into Richie and Eddie’s relationship and they still hadn’t told a soul.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Stanley asked, once again trying to sound angry but Richie could hear the hurt in his voice.

Richie gulped. He couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t he tell Stanley about his relationship with Eddie? Eddie, the boy he loved.

“You’re really not going to say anything?” Stanley scoffed, shaking his head and making his way back to the door. “I wish I could say that was typical.”

Richie stopped him before his hand hit the doorknob, his hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I just-“ Richie squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Stanley’s shoulder a bit tighter at the same time. “Eddie and I have been dating for about ten months now.” Richie said though it was more of a jumbled mess.

Stanley turned around, eyes wide. “You- you what?”

Richie nodded, pulling his hand away and placing it back at his side.

“I- So- Did you only kiss me because you felt sorry for me….” Stanley trailed off at the end of his sentence, the hurt evident in his voice once again, even more, this time.

“No!” Richie exclaimed, causing Stanley to jump a bit, “No I really really wanted to kiss you but-“

“But you can’t do that to Eddie. I get it.” Stanley finished Richie’s sentence for him and Richie felt a pang of guilt beat against his chest and not because he cheated on Eddie, but because he wanted to again.

And he did.

Richie Tozier cheated on his boyfriend for the second time in a science classroom.

Richie and Stan continued to see each other behind Eddie’s back. Richie told himself over and over to just tell Eddie, to just break his heart but he couldn’t. Richie was a coward.

1 year. Today was Eddie and Richie’s one year anniversary, though Richie had completely forgotten.

Eddie wanted to surprise the boy he’d fallen in love with over the course of the past 365 days. Yes, it was Eddie’s birthday, but Eddie was more than willing to treat Richie for the day instead.

Eddie didn’t have much money saved up from his new job. Most of the money he did manage to get his mother just took for bullshit he didn’t need but he had managed to keep some hidden.

He bought Richie a handmade woven bracelet, manly enough for Richie to not make feminine jokes. Eddie spent the majority of his saved earnings on adding a sort of charm with the date of their anniversary engraved into it.

It was perfect, like Richie.

Because Richie deserved the world.

Richie was home alone once again only this time, Stanley was underneath him. Richie’s lips were placed on Stanley’s neck, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses against the skin. Stanley couldn’t help but softly moan Richie’s name which made Richie feel incredible.

He never thought about Eddie.

Eddie strolled up the front path to Richie’s house. Nothing could break his spirits today. He felt butterflies rise in his stomach as he knocked on the door, taking a step and a half back and waiting, a smile on prominent on his small face.

But the smile fell when his gaze made its way to the window, an all too clear view of Richie and Stan on the couch.

Eddie felt his heart not only crack but shatter. Shatter into a million pieces. It felt as though the pieces were piercing into the insides of his chest, bleeding him out and he didn’t even care.

He watched Richie move to get the door. He watched Richie stop in his tracks when he saw the broken boy outside. He watched Richie’s face fall and he took a few more steps back before running down the pathway.

Richie ran after him, his long legs making it easy to catch up with the smaller boy and grabbed his arm, yanking him backward.

Eddie wasn’t speaking, he was sobbing.

“Eds I’m so fuckin’ sor-“

“SAVE IT,” Eddie interrupted, ripping his arm out of Richie’s grasp and moving away from him, “Fucking save it.”

“Ed’s please I-“

“Don’t FUCKING CALL ME THAT!” Eddie screamed, throwing the box that was in his hand at Richie as hard as he could.

Richie didn’t even realize what it was that Eddie threw, he just tried to talk. “Eddie please let me explain I-“ Richie took a step forward, Eddie moving back once more, “I love you. Please.”

Eddie laughed. He laughed through the tears pouring down his now burning skin. “You love me?” Love was emphasized way too much for Richie’s liking though he knew he deserved this. “You don’t fucking love me! You don’t even get to say that now!”

Richie stayed silent, forcing the lump in his throat to stay down.

Eddie continued. “You were fucking everything to me and you cheated. You fucking cheated! You gave yourself to someone else after telling me you fucking loved me!” Eddie was full on hyperventilating now, but Richie knew not to touch him, “I fell in love with you! I gave you every fucking piece of me and now, worst of all I fucking trusted you.” Eddie was forcing breaths out of his lungs, his body violently shaking.

Richie stood there, completely shocked. He never thought this would happen though in the back of his mind the possibility was always there. “Eddie when I said I loved you I meant-“

“No.” Eddie wouldn’t let Richie speak though all he wanted to hear Richie do was cry. Cry and beg for his forgiveness. For how sorry he was but Eddie knew that Richie wasn’t sorry because if he was, he would’ve been honest with him from the start. “Fuck you, Richie. Have fun with your fuck buddy I hope he makes you the happiest fucking asshole on the planet.”

With that, Eddie spun around and walked off and Richie didn’t even chase him. He looked down, eyeing the box laying on the wet sidewalk and picked it up, rubbing his thumb over the texture of the cardboard. He felt his eyes prickle with tears as he opened it, the charm on the bracelet glimmering in the afternoon sun.

1 year.

i hope you guys enjoyed this.... i kinda hate myself for it lmao

[johnboothus]

AleSmith Brewing Companys Vicky and Peter Zien Pay It Forward Through Philanthropy Personnel and Pints

AleSmith Brewing Company, founded in 1995, isn’t one to follow trends. Its operating strategy is basically this: do the opposite of what everyone else is doing. So far, after 25 years, it seems to be working very well.

Where nearby breweries like Pure Project and Kilowatt Brewing slowly and strategically open satellite tasting rooms across San Diego, Vicky and Peter Zien, the duo at AleSmith’s helm, waited until long after they’d outgrown their exceptionally diminutive tasting room before opening a mind-bogglingly huge new facility down the street in 2015. The location is smack in the middle of Miramar, a neighborhood known locally as “Beeramar,” thanks to its abundance of top-tier craft breweries.

Instead of churning out trend-driven releases to satiate the FOMO crowd, the Ziens doubled down on seminal brews like its Speedway Stout, whose numerous variants regularly garner acclaim. Rather than kick back and collect accolades, AleSmith has shared its success — by donating time, energy, and finances — to causes they believe in, both in the local community and the world at large. Homebrew clubs like QUAFF and BJCP study groups often utilize AleSmith’s large production space pro bono for judging beer competitions, and hosting educational classes. Numerous charitable beer releases help fund organizations — for example, proceeds from AleSmith’s 2015 Christmas Noël (or “No-L”) Belgian Strong Ale went to lupus research.

Since 2015, the Ziens have actively supported the Lost Boys and Girls of South Sudan, a non-profit group aimed at improving the lives of Sudanese refugees now living in San Diego after fleeing violence in their home country. By hosting walk-a-thon fundraisers, selling books in the brewery store, creating a Speedway varietal using Ethiopian coffee beans, and hiring a number of refugees at the brewery, Vicky and Peter have committed to philanthropy as a cornerstone of the brewery.

In 2019, AleSmith launched Anvil of Hope, a program that helps provide housing assistance to San Diegans facing homelessness, meals for families experiencing food insecurity, and educational scholarships for at-risk youth, many of whom are on the brink of aging out of the foster care system. As president of the program, Vicky spends much of her days focusing on how AleSmith can continue to make a difference in the lives of people inside and outside of the community.

The following interview with Vicky has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity, but maintains the essence of both Ziens’ dedication to making the world a better place, one beer and one action at a time.

1. What‌ ‌do‌ ‌you‌ ‌value‌ ‌most‌ ‌in‌ ‌your‌ ‌current‌ ‌role?‌

The‌ ‌ability‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌make‌ ‌a‌ ‌difference.‌ ‌I‌ ‌wear‌ ‌many‌ ‌different‌ ‌hats‌ ‌ranging‌ ‌from‌ ‌owner,‌ ‌culture‌ ‌and‌ ‌community‌ advocate,‌ ‌and‌ ‌president‌ ‌of‌ ‌a‌ ‌non-profit,‌ ‌so‌ ‌you‌ ‌can‌ ‌imagine‌ ‌how‌ ‌busy‌ ‌my‌ ‌days‌ ‌are.‌ ‌I’m‌ ‌honored‌ ‌to‌ ‌be‌ ‌part‌ ‌of‌ ‌such‌ ‌a‌ diversified‌ ‌and‌ ‌remarkable‌ ‌group‌ ‌of‌ ‌men‌ ‌and‌ ‌women‌ ‌that‌ ‌make‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌the‌ ‌company‌ ‌that‌ ‌it‌ ‌is.‌

2. How‌ ‌have‌ ‌you‌ ‌personally‌ ‌been‌ ‌affected‌ ‌by‌ ‌Covid-19‌ ‌and/or‌ ‌the‌ ‌recent‌ ‌social‌ ‌justice‌ ‌movements‌ ‌like‌ ‌Black‌ ‌Lives‌ ‌Matter? ‌ ‌ We‌ ‌feel‌ ‌tremendous‌ ‌sadness‌ ‌for‌ ‌both‌ ‌those��� ‌who‌ ‌have‌ ‌lost‌ ‌their‌ ‌lives‌ ‌to‌ ‌Covid‌ ‌and‌ ‌to‌ ‌social‌ ‌injustice‌ ‌which‌ ‌also‌ ‌makes‌ ‌us‌ ‌very‌ ‌angry.‌ ‌We‌ ‌were‌ ‌proud‌ ‌to‌ ‌participate‌ ‌in‌ ‌both‌ ‌local‌ ‌and‌ ‌national‌ ‌Black‌ ‌is‌ ‌Beautiful‌ ‌collaborative beer‌ ‌campaigns‌ ‌to‌ ‌raise‌ ‌awareness‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌issue‌ ‌as‌ ‌well‌ ‌as‌ ‌raise‌ ‌funds‌ ‌for‌ ‌several‌ ‌organizations‌ ‌such‌ ‌as‌ ‌NAACP.‌ ‌It‌’s‌ ‌nice‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌more‌ ‌people‌ ‌and‌ ‌more‌ ‌businesses‌ ‌take‌ ‌a‌ ‌stand‌ ‌against‌ ‌social‌ ‌injustice; ‌however‌, ‌it‌ ‌will‌ ‌be‌ ‌nicer‌ ‌when‌ ‌that‌ ‌phrase‌ ‌is‌ ‌truly‌ ‌part‌ ‌of‌ ‌history.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌

3. What‌ ‌are‌ ‌some‌ ‌tangible‌ ‌steps‌ ‌you‌ ‌as‌ ‌individuals‌, ‌or‌ ‌as‌ ‌a‌ ‌company‌, ‌are‌ ‌taking‌ ‌to‌ ‌address‌ ‌racial‌ ‌equity‌ ‌and‌ ‌justice‌ ‌in‌ ‌craft‌ ‌beer?‌ ‌

‌Great‌ ‌question.‌ ‌We‌ ‌should‌ ‌all‌ ‌do‌ ‌something‌ ‌proactive.‌ ‌I‌ ‌am‌ ‌Hispanic‌, ‌and‌ ‌Peter‌ ‌is‌ ‌Jewish‌, ‌so‌ ‌we‌ ‌both‌ ‌grew‌ ‌up‌ hearing‌ ‌racial‌ ‌slurs‌ ‌and‌ ‌have‌ ‌always‌ ‌been‌ ‌sensitive‌ ‌to‌ ‌these‌ ‌issues.‌ Embracing‌ ‌diversity ‌is‌ ‌one‌ ‌of‌ ‌our‌ ‌long-time‌ company‌ ‌values‌ ‌which‌ ‌you‌ ‌will‌ ‌find‌ ‌on‌ ‌our‌ ‌website‌: “We‌ ‌value‌ ‌and‌ ‌respect‌ ‌diversity‌ ‌and‌ ‌the‌ ‌different‌ ‌backgrounds,‌ ‌experiences,‌ ‌and‌ ‌ideas‌ ‌that‌ ‌diversity‌ ‌brings‌ ‌to‌ ‌us.”‌ ‌You‌ ‌see‌ ‌it‌ ‌in‌ ‌our‌ ‌hiring‌ ‌practices‌ ‌and‌ ‌onboarding‌ ‌process‌ ‌as‌ ‌well‌ ‌as‌ ‌our‌ ‌daily‌ ‌lives.‌ ‌My‌ ‌new‌ ‌favorite‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌shirt‌ ‌is‌ ‌our‌ ‌“Peace,‌ ‌Love,‌ ‌Equality,‌ ‌and‌ ‌Beer”‌ ‌t-shirt, which is currently being redesigned to allow other breweries to participate to continue the love across the nation. We‌ ‌plan‌ ‌to‌ ‌donate‌ ‌proceeds‌ ‌to‌ Paving Great Futures, which recently won California’s Charity of the Year.

4. How, when, and why did you and Peter get involved with the Lost Boys and Girls?

We‌ ‌were‌ ‌making‌ ‌the‌ ‌transition‌ ‌to‌ ‌our‌ ‌new‌ ‌building‌ ‌in‌ ‌2014‌ ‌as‌ ‌part‌ ‌of‌ ‌our‌ ‌expansion‌ ‌plan‌ ‌and‌ ‌had‌ ‌begun‌ ‌hiring‌ ‌for‌ ‌our‌ ‌increased‌ ‌production/packaging‌ ‌needs.‌ ‌I‌ ‌read‌ ‌an‌ ‌article‌ ‌in‌ ‌my‌ ‌church‌ ‌newsletter‌ for‌ ‌employers‌ ‌to‌ ‌consider‌ ‌hiring‌ ‌members‌ ‌of‌ ‌The‌ ‌Lost‌ ‌Boys‌ ‌of‌ ‌Sudan‌ ‌refugee‌ ‌group‌ ‌for‌ ‌general‌ ‌labor‌ ‌needs.‌ ‌I‌ ‌felt‌ ‌like‌ ‌my‌ ‌prayers‌ ‌were‌ ‌answered.‌ ‌I‌ ‌interviewed‌ ‌our‌ ‌first‌ ‌Lost‌ ‌Boy,‌ ‌Alephonsion‌ ‌Deng,‌ ‌and‌ ‌he‌ quickly ‌brought‌ ‌a‌ ‌deeper‌ ‌sense‌ ‌of‌ ‌gratitude‌ ‌to‌ ‌our‌ ‌entire‌ ‌team.‌ ‌Since‌ ‌then,‌ ‌we’ve‌ ‌hired‌ ‌10‌ ‌Lost‌ ‌Boys‌ ‌of‌ ‌Sudan‌ ‌and‌ ‌have‌ ‌conducted‌ ‌numerous‌ ‌fundraising‌ ‌events‌ ‌on‌ ‌their‌ ‌behalf.‌ ‌

5. What‌ ‌made‌ ‌you‌ ‌decide‌ ‌to‌ ‌focus‌ ‌on‌ ‌supporting‌ ‌the‌ ‌Lost‌ ‌Boys‌ and Girls ‌of‌ ‌Sudan?‌ ‌ ‌Peter‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌read‌ ‌the‌ ‌book ‌“They Poured Fire On Us From The Sky,” which was co-written‌ ‌by‌ ‌Deng, ‌and‌ ‌were‌ ‌in‌ ‌awe‌ ‌of‌ ‌their‌ 1,000‌ ‌mile‌ ‌journey‌ ‌to‌ ‌refugee‌ ‌camps‌ ‌with‌ ‌a‌ ‌relentless‌ ‌determination‌ ‌to‌ ‌survive.‌ ‌Civil‌ ‌war‌ ‌and‌ ‌frequent‌ ‌bombing‌ ‌of‌ ‌their‌ villages‌ ‌forced‌ ‌them‌ ‌on‌ ‌this‌ ‌trek‌ ‌where‌ ‌many‌ ‌were‌ ‌killed‌ ‌along‌ ‌the‌ ‌way‌ ‌by‌ ‌militia,‌ ‌wild‌ ‌animals‌, ‌and‌ ‌lack‌ ‌of‌ ‌food‌ ‌and‌ water.‌ Many‌ ‌ate‌ ‌mud‌ ‌and‌ ‌some‌ ‌drank‌ ‌their‌ ‌own‌ ‌urine‌ ‌just‌ ‌to‌ ‌survive.‌ ‌We‌ ‌have‌ ‌met‌ ‌and‌ ‌hired‌ ‌several‌ ‌members‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌Lost‌ ‌Boys‌ ‌since‌ ‌then‌, ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌common‌ ‌theme‌ ‌expressed‌ ‌of‌ ‌unending‌ ‌gratitude.‌ ‌Their‌ ‌foundation‌ ‌raises‌ ‌money‌ ‌to‌ ‌ provide‌ ‌education,‌ ‌meals,‌ ‌and‌ ‌clothing‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌children‌ ‌of‌ ‌South‌ ‌Sudan.‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ 6. What‌ ‌is‌ ‌the‌ ‌program’s‌ ‌mission,‌ ‌and‌ ‌how‌ ‌are‌ ‌you‌ ‌working‌ ‌towards‌ ‌it?‌ ‌ Peter‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌have‌ ‌been‌ ‌planning‌ Anvil of Hope ‌since‌ ‌we‌ ‌got‌ ‌married.‌ ‌I‌ ‌shared‌ ‌my‌ ‌childhood‌ ‌memories‌ ‌of‌ ‌poverty‌ ‌and‌ ‌wanting‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌low-‌‌income‌ ‌families‌, ‌and‌ ‌Peter‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌foster‌ ‌children.‌ ‌We‌ ‌knew‌ ‌we‌ ‌wanted‌ ‌to‌ ‌use‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌as‌ ‌our‌ ‌vehicle‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌others‌, ‌and‌ ‌our‌ ‌dreams‌ ‌became‌ ‌a‌ ‌reality‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌formation‌ ‌of‌ ‌Anvil‌ ‌of‌ ‌Hope.‌ ‌

7. How‌ ‌has‌ ‌Anvil of Hope ‌evolved‌ ‌since‌ ‌its‌ ‌inception?‌ ‌

We‌ ‌officially‌ ‌started‌ ‌the‌ ‌process‌ ‌in‌ ‌October‌ ‌2019‌ ‌and‌ ‌received‌ ‌our‌ ‌501c3‌ ‌designation‌ ‌at‌ ‌the‌ ‌end‌ ‌of‌ ‌March‌ ‌2020‌‌, but launching‌ ‌during‌ ‌the‌ ‌heat‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌pandemic‌ ‌didn’t‌ ‌seem‌ ‌right.‌ ‌Although‌ ‌I‌ ‌felt‌ ‌like‌ ‌I‌ ‌was‌ ‌prepared‌ ‌and‌ ‌had‌ ‌done‌ ‌my‌ ‌research‌ ‌before‌ ‌Covid,‌ ‌I‌ ‌took‌ ‌advantage‌ ‌of‌ ‌the‌ ‌extra‌ ‌down‌ ‌time‌ ‌and‌ ‌intensified‌ ‌my‌ ‌networking‌ ‌virtually.‌ I‌ ‌have‌ ‌learned‌ ‌so‌ ‌much‌ ‌from‌ ‌others‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌non-profit‌ ‌industry‌, and ‌I‌ ‌realize‌ ‌now‌ ‌I‌ ‌was‌ ‌not‌ ‌as‌ ‌prepared‌ ‌as‌ ‌I‌ ‌had‌ ‌originally‌ ‌thought.‌ ‌ ‌

8. Why‌ ‌do‌ ‌you‌ ‌think‌ ‌these‌ ‌types‌ ‌of‌ ‌initiatives‌ ‌are‌ ‌so‌ ‌crucial‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌beer‌ ‌industry?‌ ‌ Our‌ ‌country‌ ‌has‌ ‌historically‌ ‌struggled‌ ‌with‌ ‌alcohol‌, ‌and‌ ‌it‌’s‌ ‌important‌ ‌to‌ ‌demonstrate‌ ‌that‌ ‌a‌ ‌brewery‌ ‌can‌ ‌help‌ communities‌ ‌at‌ ‌large.‌ ‌It‌ ‌would‌ ‌be‌ ‌such‌ ‌a‌ ‌different‌ ‌world‌ ‌if‌ ‌everyone‌ ‌did‌ ‌their‌ ‌part‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌others.‌ Some‌ ‌may‌ ‌not‌ ‌be‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌position‌ ‌to‌ ‌do‌ ‌so, and we‌ ‌feel‌ ‌blessed‌ ‌that‌ ‌we‌ ‌are‌ ‌able‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌others‌ ‌while‌ ‌doing‌ ‌what‌ ‌we‌ ‌love.‌ ‌We‌ ‌do‌ ‌know‌ ‌several‌ ‌other‌ ‌breweries‌ ‌who‌ ‌have‌ ‌done‌ ‌charity‌ ‌work‌, ‌and‌ ‌it’s‌ ‌nice‌ ‌to‌ ‌see‌ ‌that‌ ‌those‌ ‌of‌ ‌us‌ ‌who‌ ‌rely‌ ‌on‌ ‌community‌ ‌support are‌ able‌ ‌to‌ ‌pay‌ ‌it‌ ‌forward.‌ ‌

9. What‌ ‌other‌ ‌philanthropic and charitable‌ ‌initiatives‌ ‌are‌ ‌you‌ ‌currently‌ ‌working‌ ‌on?‌

We‌ ‌have‌ ‌always‌ ‌had‌ ‌it‌ ‌in‌ ‌our‌ ‌hearts‌ ‌to‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌others,‌ ‌so‌ ‌we‌ ‌have‌ ‌offered‌ ‌up‌ ‌free‌ ‌space‌ ‌at‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌for‌ ‌non-profits‌ ‌and‌ ‌shared‌ ‌a‌ ‌portion‌ ‌of‌ ‌proceeds‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌their‌ ‌causes.‌ We‌ ‌have‌ ‌personally‌ ‌held‌ ‌various‌ ‌fundraisers‌ ‌for‌ ‌causes‌ ‌that‌ ‌we‌ ‌are‌ ‌close‌ ‌to‌, ‌including‌ ‌working‌ ‌closely‌ ‌with‌ ‌the‌ ‌Tony‌ ‌and‌ ‌Alicia‌ ‌Gwynn‌ ‌Foundation‌ ‌to‌ ‌help‌ ‌them‌ ‌raise‌ ‌funds‌ ‌for‌ ‌at‌-‌risk‌ ‌youth.‌ ‌We‌ ‌recently‌ ‌brewed‌ ‌a‌ ‌beer,‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌for‌ ‌Hope,‌ ‌and‌ ‌donated‌ ‌proceeds‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌San Diego ‌Food‌ ‌Bank, which‌ ‌provided‌ ‌over‌ ‌52,000‌ ‌meals‌ ‌to‌ ‌the‌ ‌community.‌ ‌ ‌

10. What’s‌ ‌next‌ ‌for‌ ‌the‌ ‌Ziens‌ ‌and‌ ‌AleSmith?‌ ‌(Answered by Peter)

My‌ ‌wife‌ ‌and‌ ‌I‌ ‌will‌ ‌never‌ ‌stop‌ ‌dreaming‌ ‌about‌ ‌“what’s‌ ‌next”‌ ‌for‌ ‌us‌ ‌and‌ ‌AleSmith.‌ ‌It‌ ‌is‌ ‌an‌ ‌important‌ ‌desire‌ ‌to ‌help‌ ‌our‌ ‌employees‌ ‌reach‌ ‌their‌ ‌personal‌ ‌goals‌ ‌and‌ ‌create‌ ‌endless‌ ‌opportunities‌ ‌at‌ ‌AleSmith.‌ We‌ ‌very‌ ‌much‌ ‌want‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌a‌ ‌difference‌ ‌in‌ ‌this‌ ‌world‌ ‌and‌ ‌will‌ ‌continue‌ ‌to‌ ‌grow‌ ‌our‌ ‌non-profit‌ ‌Anvil‌ ‌of‌ ‌Hope.‌ ‌Although‌ ‌smack‌ ‌in‌ ‌the‌ ‌middle‌ ‌of‌ ‌a‌ ‌very‌ ‌challenging‌ ‌time,‌ ‌we‌ ‌will‌ ‌continue‌ ‌to‌ ‌push‌ ‌for‌ ‌a‌ ‌better‌ ‌world‌ ‌and‌ ‌will‌ ‌do‌ ‌our‌ ‌part‌ ‌to‌ ‌make‌ ‌AleSmith‌ ‌and‌ ‌Anvil‌ ‌of‌ ‌Hope‌ ‌positive‌ ‌forces‌ ‌in‌ ‌this‌ ‌desire.‌

The article AleSmith‌ ‌Brewing‌ Company’s Vicky‌ ‌and‌ ‌Peter‌ ‌Zien‌ ‘Pay It Forward’ Through Philanthropy, Personnel, and Pints appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/%e2%80%8c%e2%80%8calesmith%e2%80%8c-%e2%80%8cbrewing%e2%80%8c-vicky-zien/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/alesmith-brewing-companys-vicky-and-peter-zien-pay-it-forward-through-philanthropy-personnel-and-pints

[appleciders]

I look at ur shame edit and i'm crying because i love it and i want it to be true but also this is the american media we're talking about and i hate life

god I Know like tbh i dont wanna be pessimistic but…i feel like we’re probably gonna get some tired old reiteration of the same story about the same group of friends and im. a bit angry in advance.

but at the time time i’m too fucking HOPEFUL, like, they have so many options? even if they stick to their plan of reusing the same characters, they can reinvent them, they can rebuild them, they can take old concepts and twist them so they tell different stories? and a part of me is chanting that i know it’s gonna be trash, but, like, imagine—

a latina nora who is blatantly a lesbian, who comes in strong, falters, and then picks herself back up. who corrects her spanish teacher and ignores the stares. who feels like she has to conquer everything alone (bc since when has the world ever handed her shit) but who remains strong in her convictions and is more than fiery, more than a stereotype, more than a sex object. 

a half-chinese vivian, who lives with just her mom. who just wants to be one thing, but is instead two—who has been told all her life this is what beautiful is and slowly learns to love herself as she realizes that’s bullshit. who is not initially an out-and-proud lesbian, but instead hides herself, tries to be a girl she’s not until finally she sees a glimpse of the girl she could be.

a Black chris who is actually given narrative focus. who is unapologetically funny and happy, who jokes and laughs and doesn’t back down to people who would rather her stay quiet, but who won’t tolerate anyone making her the joke. a chris who is more than all of those things. a chris who is loving and has things she is angry about and who is allowed emotional depth and range.

a jewish (and bi+trans?) eva, who has always looked at herself and thought not good enough. who has made mistakes and has loved and fucked up, who has felt stupid and not worth it and adrift. an eva who isn’t religious, necessarily, bc her mother is so absent and not very practicing, but who comes to terms with antisemitism and learns to find solace in her new friends and her old religion.

and a sana who is muslim and doesn’t have to apologize for it, who reacts to those who mistreat her and who is not narratively placed in the wrong. who is smart and who is not demeaned. who has a vibrant community who she loves dearly and who she learns from. who finds strength and love in her religion, who uses it to stand tall in the face of a country that increasingly shits on her. 

imagine a girl squad who could be nothing like this, who could be whoever you need to find yourself reflected in, and just. imagine not wanting to explore this? to see these stories? the stories that are like. the most important ones in america today? like this is such a chance i’m.

TL;DR: IM NOT REALISTICALLY EXPECTING SHIT BUT THIS IS SUCH AN OPPORTUNITY AND IM ACTUALLY AN OPTIMISTIC FUCKER WHO IS GONNA BE VERY DISAPPOINTED 

[marcjampole]

Trump acts and talks like a stand-up comic, but the joke is on the American people

At first listen, Donald Trump’s speaking style when he eschews the teleprompter seems chaotically free form, as if he tossed a few dozen tweets and sound bites into one of his “Make America Great Again” caps and picked a few out, one at a time, not bothering to supply connective material or an overarching direction. But there is a method to Trump’s rhetorical madness—a tried and true method that has been around since at least the British music halls of the 19th century.

It’s called stand-up comedy, a style of public speaking with which voters are familiar from late night comedy shows and prime time specials, a style which generally makes its live and broadcast audiences feel good because it makes them laugh, even when the comic is discussing something serious or infuriating. Talking like a stand-up comic may be as significant a part of Trump’s appeal to his core as his nativism, racism, misogyny and isolationism.

Most elected officials and candidates use the same speaking style, which after salutations and a short joke follows a basic three-part structure: 1) Tell them what you’re going to say; 2) Say it; 3) Tell them what you just said. Within that overall framework, the typical political speech will go from issue to issue. In each part of the speech, the speaker will employ a rather limited set of rhetorical devices: using more words than are necessary as opposed to speaking directly; referencing a mix of anecdotes and isolated statistics; and hedging bets with such weaselly phrases as “anticipate” “start to address” and “return to American traditions.” The speaker typically builds tension through repetition, especially of the first few words of a sentence, as exemplified by Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream…” speech. For example, in a speech warning of the danger of electing about Trump that Hillary Clinton made in June 2016, she repeated “He said…” to begin a series of five sentences in a row, and later repeated “It’s no small thing…” to begin three sentences in a row. In a typical stump speech, Bernie Sanders would embed the emphatic rendering of the simple phrase, “we are going to” in four or five sentences in a row.

Except for the use of anecdotes and statistics, both often fabricated, Donald Trump rejects this standard stump speech style in favor of stand-up comedy.

We can identify several characteristics of stand-up comedy that Trump has repurposed for the political arena. First and foremost is the lack of a recognizable formal structure in Trump’s rants. The contemporary comic for the most part doesn’t tell traditional jokes, but rambles from topic to topic, free form and without apparent goal, occasionally telling a story or saying something funny or zinging a sacred cow or well-known human foible. You never have the feeling that the contemporary comic is scripted, but rather speaking a spontaneous stream of consciousness rap. And yet she-he manages always to tell the same jokes and even sling the same insults at audience members in all routines. Doesn’t that sound like Trump? For Trump, the jokes are the insults, the zingers, the boasts, the false facts, the inaccurate characterizations and the unrealistic promises. Instead of starting with the standard “Great to be here,” Trump will often begin in the middle of an anecdote, sometimes even borrowing the “A funny thing happened on my way to the show” joke that begins many classic stand-up comedy routines. For example, the first words of his speech of his victory tour, in North Carolina, were “So the weather was really bad, really bad, and they said, ‘You know these are great people in North Carolina. They won’t mind.’ No, but they said, ‘they won’t mind, sir, if you canceled and made it another time.’ And I said, what?”

The contemporary comic will take a complex social issue, reduce it to one or two points which will be inflammatory but not necessarily salient and then melt away our anxiety with simplistic, often aggressive and senseless exhortations. Lewis Black and Chris Rock both take this approach. Doesn’t it also sound like what Trump has done to many issues, for example, reducing the complexities illegal immigration to building a wall and the fight against terrorism to limiting immigration from Muslim countries?

Stand-up comics frequently find humor in playing on stereotypes or insulting people.

Sarah Silverman, Chris Rock, Ron White, they all reduce people to stereotypes consisting of one or two traits, and then make funny remarks or tell stories that exemplify those traits. It’s what Trump does to issues and to other politicians—“Crooked Hillary,” “Lying Ted, “Little Marco.” While some comedians, such as Don Rickles, Dom Irrera and Lisa Lampanelli, built their routines entirely around insults, most will throw in at least some name-calling, sometimes of the audience, sometimes of well-known people, sometimes of themselves. Insult humor is also a mainstay of situation comedies like “Big Bang Theory,” “Two Broke Girls,” “Everybody Love Raymond” and “Two and a Half Men,” for example.

In stereotyping people, stand-up comics will often briefly leave their own persona by changing their voice and body movements to imitate another person. A wide range of comics will play several parts in their routines, from Bill Cosby to Chris Rock. Seth Meyers, Stephen Colbert and Bill Maher often breaks into their respective versions of Trump’s voice for a sentence or two. A few extremely gifted mimics like Jonathan Winters and Robin Williams have built their entire routines going from character to character. Some of Trump’s most notorious moments occur when he is briefly playing another person, such as his imitation of a reporter with a physical disability. Trump imitated others in the North Carolina speech referenced above. No other politician of recent vintage would dare take on the voice and gestures of another person.

The contemporary comic is self-referential, either drawing from her or his own life or interrupting a thought process to refer to her or himself—how the performance is going, why something makes the performer angry, the effect of current events on the comic’s personal life or something else just as extraneous to the topic at hand. Those who believe that Trump is unqualified for office because of his instability often cite his extreme narcissism as a character flaw. Many of his lies stem from an irrational desire to self-aggrandize. His early speeches after the inauguration, to the Central Intelligence Agency and members of the military, started with and returned often to his personal issues—poll and voting results and insults he may or may not have hurled. There are many comics who focus on themselves, from Jack Benny to Rodney Dangerfield on to Elaine Boosler, Wendy Liebman, Amy Schumer, Lewis Black and Jeff Foxworthy, among myriad others.

Other than talk-show hosts who pretty much deliver jokes in the tradition of Bob Hope, most contemporary stand-up comedians play a comic character that is a well-known stereotype. There are red-neck comedians like Ron White, Bill Engvall and Jeff Foxworthy. Wendy Liebman and Sarah Silverman are promiscuous Jewish-American princesses. Chris Tucker is an angry black man. Amy Schumer is always a party girl. George Lopez plays a series of Hispanic stereotypes and D. J. Hughley and Eddy Murphy play a series of African-American stereotypes. Playing a role is a cherished tradition of stand-up comedy: Jack Benny was a miser. Red Skelton was a clown. Lenny Bruce was a hipster; Cheech and Chong were dopesters. Irwin Corey was a gasbag.

Trump plays a stereotype character whose roots go back to the Italian commedia dell’arte in the Renaissance. But every comic type with origins of a thousand years will have many manifestations. The left, Democrats, many centrists and the mainstream news media see one version of the classic type upon which Trump has modeled, subconsciously or not, his public person. But Trump supporters saw a different version, comic to be sure, but also heroic.

At essence, Trump is Pantalone—the older, wealthy man, often vain, often a lecher, often a bully, often pompous and ignorant, who usually gets his comeuppance in commedia dell’arte skits, sometimes even wearing the horns of a cuckold. Moliere’s “bourgeois gentleman” is the classic example of this comic type. A friendlier, sunnier and definitely de-sexed precursor to Trump was Ted Baxter of the Mary Tyler Moore show, played by Ted Knight.

Most of the intelligentsia across the political spectrum view Trump as the know-nothing buffoon version of Pantalone, the bourgeois gentleman who thinks he knows more than the dancing, speaking, music and other experts he has hired to aggrandize his reputation, or perhaps a Ted Baxter as a sexual predator.

To New Yorkers, Trump has long been a puffed-up and vain buffoon—a wealthy fool, someone with a lot of money but no taste. Before running for president, the properties he built were garish. His private life exemplified what used to be called the “nouveau riche,” those who have money but spend it tastelessly and foolishly. His “Apprentice” TV show was a parody version of the business world, his gruff and insulting style a parody of a type of executive who is not all that prevalent nowadays, certainly not among public companies responsible to shareholders.

But the rich and pampered oaf is not what his followers saw in Trump. To Trump voters, he was the Rodney Dangerfield and Jackie Mason characters of the two Caddyshack movies of the 1980’s that are still frequently aired on a number of broadcast and cable stations. Both play extremely rich white males who made their money at least partially in real estate development. Their vulgarity, apparent ignorance of social etiquette and kind treatment of the “hired help” turn them into average Joes who are breaking down the barriers of elite institutions. Viewers may laugh at Dangerfield and Mason as they commit social faux pas or make ridiculous statements, but we treat them as heroes who upend the social order for the good of the whole when they insult, trick or defeat pompous and snobby rich folk. There is no difference in what the audience feels for these rich disrupters in the Caddyshack movies from what supporters feel about Donald Trump. In the numerous interviews with core Trump supporters since the election, they forgive his vulgarity and stumbling as part and parcel of his outsider status.

How much has Trump’s stand-up comic style contributed to his success in connecting with enough former Democratic voters to win an electoral majority? Did delivering his nativist, racist, misogynist messages like a comic serve to enhance his dystopic ejaculations? It certainly made them seem “funny” to those who despise so-called “political correctness,” but did his voters respond to the jokes positively, or would Trump have won by a greater margin if he had delivered his material in the traditional style that characterized every other candidate on the campaign trail this year?

The very fact that Trump’s language and rhetoric so little resembles the standard fare certainly contributes to the view that he is a disrupter. That he distills his messages into short statements—be they insults, lies or simplifications—make them easy to remember, transmit on social media and use in television news, which now favors quotes of less than ten seconds. His performance might steal a movie satire of elections. On the other hand, the news media treats his rally speeches and early morning tweet rant as manifestations of instability, inexperience and ignorance.

We can’t really know whether his performance helped him win the election unless a progressive Democrat attempts the same approach. I’m certain that any number of Hollywood and New York comedy writers would love to help a candidate of the left try the stand-up style.

Meanwhile, we can anticipate that Trump is going to ramp up campaign style rallies to rile his base as his ratings continue to tumble and he continues to implement unpopular policies and made racist, sexist and otherwise distasteful statements. Like any stand-up comedian, Trump loves the immediate applause, the laughs and the hoots, the love and attention unmediated by polls, computers, experts or media spins. It’s the love of attention that has Trump now actively seeking deals with the Democrats.

Like any professional comic, Trump’s inventiveness feeds off the audience response. Playing to live audiences will therefore likely incite Trump to make more of the type of embarrassing and ignorant statements that marred his campaign and that he has continued to make in the first year of his administration. In the best case scenarios, Trump or others walk back the assertions he makes via Twitter, news conferences and large rallies by twisting the meaning, denying he said it or quietly restating long-standing American policy. We have already seen this dynamic play out again and again—with North Korea, Charlottesville, transgender military service, Israeli settlements and the one China policy. The worst case scenario, as may happen with DACA, has Trump turn a federal department on its head to implement a legally suspect executive order that hurts individuals and the economy, all so that Trump can say he delivers on a promise he makes in his large tent meetings.

In other words, Trump may talk and and act like a stand-up comedian, but the joke is on the American people and the world.

[scarletjedi]

My wife, gentlepersons

Brig was already aboard the boat when Gimli and Legolas arrived, attending the rigging for the simple sail and making ready to depart.@brydylcai​: All of the writing asks because I worry you don't have enough to do

so. 

all the ones I haven’t answered yet. Behind the cut because long

1. Tell us about your WIP!

Heh, which one? I’ve started writing chapter three of We Are Made Wise because I’m finally getting over my block (I think there was a little burnout). I’ve just updated Old Man Luke, and Pineapple 2 is next. I’m almost finished with my next original short, I’ve figured out where to go next in my novel, and...yeah. :)

2. Where is your favorite place to write?

Where it’s quiet and I can focus. Sometimes that’s the living room. Sometimes it’s my office. Sometimes it’s the Starbucks on the corner. 

4. Do you have any writing habits/rituals?

Depends on where I am. I have to have some sort of ritual to get focused. In my office, I light candles. In the living room, I put on music. At the coffee shop, I have a snack. 

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

My original character, Jamie, from my book is a HOOT. He’s a gay Jewish teen whose convinced that *he* will be the one to capture definitive proof of the Jersey Devil. He’s the non-magical pov in the fic, and his voice is fun. 

7. Favorite/most inspirational book?

Well, on the one hand, I re-wrote the Hobbit, so that’ book is clearly an inspiration. 

8. Do you have any writing buddies or critique partners?

@brydylcai is my in-house sounding board, the same way I am for her. I don’t have a regular beta, but I’ve worked with several depending on the project/story, and they’re all lovely people. 

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

I love revelations/coming out stories. I hate deliberate misunderstandings. 

10. Pick an author (or writing friend) to co-write a book with

@brydylcai and I have discussed writing a book together already, so Imma go with her :)

11. What are you planning to work on next?

I have the doc with We Are Made Wise open, so either that or my next short, depending on if I write more tonight or wait until tomorrow. 

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why?

Comes Around Again is the one that earned me what little notoriety I have, and Old Man Luke is doing the same in Star Wars, but I’m most proud of Drowned in Moonlight. That fic was written to excise some grief over Carrie Fisher, and I think I did her proud. 

13. Describe your writing process

I’m tempted to say “Incoherent screaming into the void” but that’s a joke that’s been made before. My process. Hmm. 

I tend to write by the seat of my pants. I like to see what develops and grows naturally. Once I get to a certain point, I’ll stop and make a plot sheet/note page, but I usually have the rough shape figured out before I start to write. 

Once I have a draft, I’ll edit. Sometimes I’ll print and edit on paper. Sometimes I edit online. My original works tend to get more editing than my fanworks. 

14. What does it take for you to be ready to write a book? (i.e. do you research? outline? make a playlist or pinterest board? wing it?)

ha ha ha ha - My original novel has been 15 years in the works, and has gone through many drafts. It’s working now, but I need familiarity. So, I think what I need is research for context and an outline for plot, and a good enough knowledge to feel like I’m winging it. 

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing?

I put it down. If I’m not confident on one project, I’ll put it down and turn to another. (This usually means putting down my original work in favor of fanfic, because I’m more confident with that overall, but...). I know what sounds right to my ear, and if I’m not hearing it, there’s usually a reason. Distance/time often lets me see it. 

17. What things (scenes/topics/character types) are you most comfortable writing?

I’m a Jersey Girl, so I tend to set things in Jersey. I love dramatic conversations, so I’m comfortable there. Queer characters. 

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

That I wrote? Or that I read? Twilight/50 Shades. 

19. How do you cope with writer’s block?

I beat it with a hammer unitl it’s writer’s pebbles. 

20. Any advice for young writers/advice you wish someone would have given you early on?

Write what you love. Write the truths that you know, and research to write the things you don’t know. Don’t be afraid to break your characters; you can put them back together in new and interesting ways. You’ll be given a lot of advice over the years--read enough to recognize what you like. Develop your taste. Take the advice that helps taylor your work to your taste. Reject the advice that changes it away. 

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

Subtle meanings and implications. 

22. Tell us about the books on your “to write” list

Here are 3:

a) The Lesbian Werewolf Romance Novel. 

b) The Teenage Zombie Novel. 

c) The American-Teenager-Falls-Into-Fantasy-Realm-and-there-are-also-dragons novel

23. Most anticipated upcoming books?

Jer Keene’s next book. I read the first as fic, and then read the novelization, and now I REALLY want to know what comes next. 

The Kingkiller Chronicles book 3

25. What’s your worldbuilding process like?

Seat. Of. My. Pants and flailing. Seriously, I write something because it sounds right, and then figure out how it works after. 

26. What’s the most research you’ve ever put into a book?

I wrote parts of CAA with the hobbit, the lotr, the unfinished tales, and the moves on and open in front of me. 

I became a pagan, and my research for that has influenced my writing of my book. 

27. Every writer's least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

I mentioned I was pagan? My patron, Brigid, is among other things, a muse. She pokes, and I start thinking (or I think, and she eggs me on. I’m not sure of the order. could be either or both). But, most of my ideas come from things I read. When I want inspiration, I read. 

Ideas don’t come as easily as I would like, but the fact that I have several projects at once means that it comes easily enough. 

28. How do you stay focused on your own work and how do you deal with comparison?

I have a hard time focusing period, so that’s a challenge. I have put effort into being less jealous because it’s ultimately a useless exercise. 

29. Is writing more of a hobby or do you write with the intention of getting published?

I want to be published like JK Rowling or Stephen King - one thing that gives my financial security, or with enough frequency to do the same. 

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

tbh, i read mostly fanfic these days. Most Genre fic makes me angry because there’s something missing from the text. it’s usually women/gay people. 

31. Top five favorite books in your genre?

scifi/fantasy

a) American Gods - Gaiman

b) Foundation/Elijah Bailey mysteries - Assimov

c) The Hobbit

d) Guards!Guards!

e) Years of Rice and Salt

32. On average how much do you write in a day? do you have trouble staying focused/getting the word count in?

Depends. There are days i can’t get a word out. There are days I’ve written about 10k. It depends on if I’m having a good focus day. 

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like?

long. 

34. Unpopular writing thoughts/opinions?

....like what?

35. Post the last sentence you wrote

““The things I do for the greater good,” Gimli grumbled, his frown softening as Legolas’s laugh rang out to echo through the cavern. “

36. Post a snippet

from Old Man Luke, chapter 11 (probably):

Obi-Wan stood just to the left of the closed door, hand stroking his beard ad the sight of those assembled. It took all of his focus to keep his eyes from growing wide, or let his hands tremble the way they wished to.

Before him, sitting at a conference table, was Asajj Ventress (scowling at the table like a chastised Padawan, though she had submitted to the indignity of the locking cuffs easily enough), and the adult twinned children of Anakin Skywalker.

Luke sat much as he had before, calmly and with no outward signs of concern, reminding Obi-Wan uncomfortably of his own master. Leia sat back from the table, her arms crossed and her expression sardonic. She, too, was apparently unconcerned, if outwardly exasperated, and Obi-Wan knew that if hadn’t already been told, he would be able to see the resemblance between father and daughter in a heartbeat.

Still, Obi-Wan had the distinct and uncomfortable sensation of not quite living up to her expectations.

The bulk of her resentment, however, was aimed directly at the only other occupant of the room—Anakin.

Their father.

Obi-Wan needed a drink.

37. Do you ever write long handed or do you prefer to type everything?

I write long-handed when I’m having focus issues. It’s slow enough to make me focus. 

38. How do you nail voice in your books?

I talk to myself. Out loud. Constantly. 

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire?

When I read, I’m known to stop and think “that was a perfectly crafted sentence!” or “How did they do that?” 

40. Do you look up to any of your writer buddies?

all of them. They’re all awesome, though in different ways. 

41. Are there any books you feel have shaped you as a writer?

Harry Potter. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure it has. 

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied?

Depends on how fully formed the story was in my head before I started. Fanfic gets 2 - rough and beta. Original fic gets rough, first, second, etc

43. How do you deal with rejection?

Badly at first. Then it evolved into a desire to prove them wrong. 

45. First or third person?

Third. 

46. Past or present tense?

Past. 

47. Single or dual/multi POV?

Depends on the needs of the plot. 

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back?

the first is what I do. The second is what I’d like to do. 

49. Favorite fictional world?

A Galaxy Far, Far away. (Then Middle Earth). 

50. Do you share your rough drafts or do you wait until everything is all polished?

depends on the fic. I like to show things to @brydylcai, but only in the fandom’s she’s in. I have been known to invite friends into docs as I’m writing, so...

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books?

I’m more open than I used to be about fanfic. I’m less talkative about my original works. 

52. Who do you write for?

She knows who. 

53. What is the first line of your WIP?

Of this chapter: “Brig was already aboard the boat when Gimli and Legolas arrived, attending the rigging for the simple sail and making ready to depart.”

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written?

my book begins with a ghost hunt. that’s fun?

55. How do you manage your time/make time for writing? (do you set aside time to write every day or do you only write when you have a lot of free time?)

I try to set aside time while not working, but i also tend to write in whatever little moments I have. Between classes, standing in line, etc. 

[koolkitty9]

20 First Lines

20 first lines

@mostlikelytofangirl tagged me to share the first lines of my 20 latest fanfics. I have 28 up on Ao3, and they’re all Boueibu lol. At the time of posting this, I have 21 Boueibu fics, so this is all of my fics minus one, so this is almost a fanfic masterpost for me lol

Battle Lovers Meet the Sailor Senshi! (Sailor Moon+Boueibu) Ryuu smiled as he looked at his phone, Io looked over at him, “Have another date or something?”

The Loss of Love (Rewrite) (Post Season Two AU) Yumoto smiled to himself as he was walking to the clubroom, “Yumoto-kun!” A voice called and Yumoto turned around, “Oh! Haruhiko-senpai!”

The Heir (God of Love Modern AU) Wombat came to Earth for one reason…well two reasons, to find the heir to the Throne of Love and to save the world by filling it with love. 

Don't Call Me Momsy! (Crack Fic) Yumoto frowned as he walked into the clubroom and looked at En and Atsushi. 

Minuet of Love (God of Love AU) “Kinugawa-senpai!” Ryuu’s voice rang as he ran throughout the hallways “Yufuin-senpai!” 

Prelude of Love (God of Love AU) “Yumoto! Yumoto!” Gora’s voice called as he searched for his six-year-old little brother.

Requiem of Love (God of Love AU) Yumoto sighed as he sat in his throne as Io read out of his book to him, “As the God of Love, you must know that you cannot-“

Serenade of Love (God of Love AU) Makizou Yami was not very well known, he guarded over the Library of the Gods and his own temple in the mortal world.

Love Is Challenging (God of Love AU) “Papa, please!” Yumoto screamed, “You never let me do anything!”

Atsu-Mama and Yumoto (God of Love AU)

Atsushi smiled as he fed the newborn heir, he was happy to see the young prince was starting to comprehend the world.

Can You Not, Io-Senpai? (Season Two AU) Yumoto frowned as Salty Sol tied him up, “Hakone Yumoto-kun…we know who you really are! Our Bottle Monster was right  to tell us who you were before you could transform!” 

Boueibu Drabbles  Ryuu looked up from his phone as he heard Yumoto giggle, "Atsu-mama!" 

The Loss of Love  (Original) (Post Season Two AU) Yumoto giggled as Haruhiko handed him some tickets, “Here, come to our show tonight.” He smiled and Yumoto nodded, “Thanks Haruhiko-senpai!” 

No Thanks, Nurse Scarlet!  Ryuu winced as his phone rang, he grabbed it and looked at the name of who was calling. 

The Cupcake Incident  Atsushi walked into the Earth Defense Club room with a round container in his hands.

“We’re Finishing You Off One by One”  (Season Two AU) Ryuu sighed as he sat in his usual seat in the clubroom. 

Rainy Days (Akorima Drabble) Akoya sat down on a bench outside of school, and looked up as rain was falling heavily…and then he began to think about his past. 

The New Student (Araki-OC Arc/AU) *My First Boueibu fic* “Tungsten”

The Shards of Friendship  (Araki-OC Arc/AU) Yumoto giggled as he was walking home with his friends. 

Tungsten is Still in You  (Araki-OC Arc/AU) Yumoto giggled as he walked to the Defense Club…well more like ran. 

I taggggg @pepsi-tigress @angry-jewish-magical-girl andddd anyone else because idk