when i say David Sedaris is to Catcher in the Rye is to Igby Goes Down is to Roman Roy, i mean it so seriously

Baby Girl Chapter One

Summary: Y/n tried to avoid her past with a certain Statesmen but when they’re partnered back up for a mission that could cost millions their lives, Y/n must make the right choice. (This is the Kingsman: The Golden Circle movie basically in writing with reader insert. I recommend watching the movie, it’s amazing! It’s on Amazon Prime Video.)

Characters: Agent Whiskey, Agent Gin(Y/n), Tequila, Ginger Ale, Eggsy, Merlin, Champ, Harry, mentions of Poppy, Charlie, and Clara in coming chapters..

Word Count: 2.327

Warnings: Canon typical violence, angst, cursing, fluff here and there, uh guns?

Author’s Note: We’re finally here! I have been working so hard on this series and I have finally finished it! I’m so excited to be sharing this. Shoutout to my lovely @giftofdreams​ for being an amazing beta and friend. Also send my girl @queenxxxsupreme​ some love. After this series, I’ll be working hard on my requests and on my existing August Walker Series. Don’t worry, I didn’t forget it babes. Thanks for all the love I receive daily! If you’d like to be a tag, please send in an ask! As always, thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome/needed. Also, please reblog! I know this fandom is kinda small but I’d love for people to find this fic. I just worked so hard on it and I want it to get the love it deserves. Love to you all!

The loud sound of rain burned into Eggsy’s ears as he stared at the broken-down building in front of him. He didn’t know whether he should scream, cry, or curse anyone who was listening. He looked up to see a black figure walking towards him, holding a black bag. He immediately reacted, pulling out his gun, aiming it straight at his head. As the figure stepped closer, Merlin's face became visible to him but he never lowered his gun. Slowly the both of them started to walk towards each other as Eggsy gripped his gun harder, feeling it's weight get heavier with every step. “Someone decides to wipe out every Kingsman property, every agent, and somehow, conveniently, you weren't at home.”

Neither of them stopped walking towards each other, walking between all of the rubble of Eggsy’s blown up home. “I could say the same thing about you.

Finally, Eggsy stopped when he was a few feet away from Merlin, his voice cracking from emotion. “What, you think I'd kill Roxy? And my mate, Brandon, and my fucking dog?”

“No. You think I would?” Eggsy kept his gun trained on Merlin as he swallowed thickly. Merlin held up the black bag towards him, opening it up and pulling a robotic arm, holding it up. “This thing hacked us. Clearly, this arm can be remotely controlled. I'm only alive because my address wasn't on the database with the agents. Whoever Charlie's working with doesn't think that mere staff are missile-worthy.”

Eggsy scoffed angrily as he lowered his gun, his voice raising an octave. “This ain't funny. Roxy is dead! Everyone's dead! Gone! Do you even care?”

“Pull yourself together. Remember your training. There's no time for emotion in this scenario.” Eggsy nodded quietly in understanding. “Now, as all surviving agents are present, we follow the doomsday protocol. When that's done, and only then… you may shed a tear in private.”

Eggsy sighed deeply as he nodded. The loud sound of thunder echoed between the two men filling in the absence of conversation. The deaths of all the Kingsman weighed heavy on their hearts. “Okay. What's the doomsday protocol?”

“We go shopping.” Both of the men decided to take the night off and try to sleep. It was a restless sleep for both. First thing in the morning, they both headed for Berry Bros & Rudd; Wine merchants. They walked in dressed to the nines. Merlin approached one of the workers. “We're from Kingsman. We'd like to buy some wine and use tasting room number three, please.” The man in the shop nodded quickly, before taking both of them towards the room. The man left, leaving Eggsy and Merlin alone. “Not one of my predecessors has ever been in this situation before. Thank God.” Merlin walked towards a distinctive place in the wall, recognizing a familiar shape. He pulled out a pendant, exactly like one Harry had given Eggsy when he was younger. “A-ha. Remember this?” He showed it to Eggsy who smiled softly, remembering its significance. 

“Yeah, how could I forget?” Eggsy watched as Merlin turned towards the wall, slipping the pendant into the shape, fitting perfectly into the molding. Loud sounds of locks being opened and gears turning filled the room. The wall slid open, revealing a black safe. 

Merlin pointed towards the safe as he spoke to Eggsy. “Whatever's in that safe is the answer to all our problems.” Merlin got to quickly opening the safe. Pulling the door open, his brows furrowed in confusion as he leaned closer to see what he was looking at. “Huh.” He pulled out a bottle of whiskey with clear big letters that read “Statesman” on the front. He showed it to Eggsy who looked confused.

“Is that it?”

“I suppose that must be upper-class humor.” Merlin looked down at the bottle, analyzing it for a few seconds before looking back up to Eggsy. “I don't get it.”

“Me neither. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“I think we should drink a toast to our fallen comrades.” Merlin served both of them cups of the Whiskey. Eggsy grabbed one and held it up towards Merlin as he grabbed his own cup, doing the same. They clinked their cups together. 

“To Roxy.”

“Roxy.” Merlin oohed in admiration of the taste. Eggsy nodded his approval as well as they served another round, doing what they had previously done again. “To Arthur.”

“Arthur.” They both drank their whiskey before Eggsy stopped in thought. “Mmm. Should we do one for JB?”

“I think we should.” Eggsy pulled out a chair, sitting across from Merlin as they poured more whiskey. They took a drink for every fallen Kingsman. Leaving the bottle almost empty, Merlin started to cry, wiping at his eyes in pain with his handkerchief. “I should have seen it coming. Charlie, the taxi. It's all my fault.” Both men had forgone their jackets and glasses as they spoke.

“No, that's bullshit, Merlin. It ain't all your fault. You're the best, bruv. Honestly, without you, I'd have lost it a long time ago.”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Eggsy placed his hand on Merlin's shoulder. Merlin stayed quiet before reaching for the almost empty bottle. "I think we should drink to Scotland."

Eggsy quickly took the bottle away from Merlin. "I think we've probably had enough, to be honest." He analyzed the bottle as Merlin cleaned his glasses. 

"You're probably right." Eggsy stared at the bottle. Looking closer he saw a small print at the bottom of the back of the sticker, 'Distilled in Kentucky'. The K looked very familiar to him before it clicked. 

"Merlin."

"Aye?"

"I think we're going to Kentucky."

"Fried Chicken? I love fried chicken."

"No, proper Kentucky. Look." Eggsy placed the bottle on the table as Merlin slipped his glasses on. 

"You know what else I love? Country and western music." Before Eggsy could say anything, Merlin started to sing. Eggsy was annoyed but listened quietly anyways. "Country roads, Take me home, To the place I belong.." The boys moved quickly, getting what few things they had left before flying over to the distillery. They noticed a tour happening as they arrived and they followed behind as the woman spoke. She didn't let them into a large warehouse, explaining something about how the temperature is perfect for the barrels and both men stopped. Eggsy scanned the door with his watch, nodding towards it. 

"Biometric security scanner just to protect a few old barrels of whiskey? Pull the other one, love." 

Merlin fiddled with his tablet as Eggsy watched him. "Got it." The door slid open behind Eggsy. They looked around before skidding in. Eggsy kept his hand up with his watch, surveying the area. They looked around amazed at all of the giant barrels. 

"Are you getting anything?"

"Not yet."

"Fucking hell."

"It's a shame it's not scotch." Merlin's tablet started to beep loudly. "Hang on." He looked at the image, showing underneath them was the base. "According to this, there's a huge underground structure right beneath us." Merlin walked quickly to the end to place his tablet down, grabbing an axe placed lazily on the side. "And if my calculations are correct…" He moved towards the main barrel in the middle, holding the axe tightly. "This is the way in." Without a second thought, Merlin hit the wall with all his strength, denting and making a hole on the barrel. Whiskey gushed out of it and both men panicked. 

"Fucking hell, Merlin. Shit." Merlin moved quickly, covering the hole with his hand. 

“You know, my mama, she always told me us southerners get our good manners from the British.” A man slowly walked towards them, holding a shotgun loosely in his hand as it rested on his shoulder. Eggsy tried to act casual, crossing his arms and leaning on the barrel as Merlin kept his hand on the hole he created. “I was thinkin', ain't that a pity. Y'all kept nothing for yourselves. Y'all ain't never heard of knocking before you enter?” The man turned his head slightly, smirking before spitting to his left. 

“Well, actually we had an invitation. Didn't we?” Eggsy looked over at Merlin as he nodded quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, did you now?” The man watched them unamused.

“Yeah. It came in the shape of a bottle. We're from the Kingsman tailor shop in London. Maybe you've heard of us?”

“Oh, the Kingsman.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. That's where y'all got them fine suits and them fancy spectacles y'all got on?” The man pointed towards them with the end of the shotgun, acting like he knew what they were saying was enough.

“Exactly.” Merlin nodded his head enthusiastically, almost as if he hoped they made the right decision. 

“That's right.”

“Y'all look damn sharp. Let me see if I got it right, here. You want me to believe that it's normal for a tailor to hack through an advanced biometric security system with nothing but a little bitty old watch on?” Eggsy clenched his jaw nervously as Merlin frowned. They were starting to realize their name meant nothing. Merlin looked over at Eggsy with concern as Eggsy rolled his eyes, staring the man down.  “I can promise you,” The man grabbed his shotgun, loading it as he twirled it effortlessly in his hand, aiming it at both of them. “That dog don't hunt.” With the shotgun, he motioned for both of them to get down. “So why don't you go on and get down on your knees and tell me who you really work for.” 

Eggsy raised his eyebrows, mocking the man before looking over at Merlin tight-lipped, as Merlin nodded, silently saying, ‘okay, you asked me to’. He removed his hand as the barrel started to leak again, dropping whiskey all over the floor. The man quickly sucked up some saliva, spitting it across the way on the hole, covering it perfectly.  Eggsy looked at Merlin with disgust before turning back towards the man with the same expression. “That's 1963 Statesman Reserve. You just made it personal.”

The man walked towards both of them, as they ran towards him at the same time as well. Eggsy raised his fist, ready to punch but the man ducked and hit him in the back with the shotgun. Merlin lunged for him next. The man hit him in the abdomen, looping his arm around Merlin’s and used his body weight to throw him against the barrel, knocking him out cold. Eggsy took out his gun but the man used the shotgun to trap his arm between his body and the shotgun before swinging it around and smacking it out of his hand with his shotgun. The momentum of the hit threw Eggsy on his knees as he swung the shotgun into his ribs, swinging it the other way around. Eggsy blocked the hit but still groaned in pain as the hit threw him against the barrel. The man pinned Eggsy’s arm with his shotgun before moving quickly to flip through Eggsy’s watch until he found the stun option. He pulled Eggsy off of the barrel and angled it so he shot himself with the dart. Eggsy stared at him in surprise as the man smirked. Eggsy moved to touch his neck where the dart was as he went limp on his legs. “Who the fuck are you?” Eggsy stepped back once before falling onto his back, blacking out quickly like Merlin. 

“You’re right. You are getting better Tequila, almost as good as me.” The man, Tequila, looked up to the left where you slowly stepped out of the shadows. You licked your lips as you walked over to the limp bodies on the floor. You bent down beside Eggsy and reached out, touching his watch admiring the technology. “I guess you didn’t need me after all.” 

Tequila smiled and shook his head as he nudged Merlin with his foot. “Now darlin’, don’t say that. You know I love having you around.”

“Well, duh. I’m a fucking catch.” Tequila laughed out at your comment before moving to grab Merlin, throwing him over his shoulder as he motioned towards Eggsy with a nod of his head. 

“Can you handle him?” You frowned and shook your head. You were smaller than Eggsy and even though you were strong, you weren’t that strong. 

“I can drag him.” You grabbed his arms and slowly pulled him towards the real elevator, dragging him inside as you huffed. He was heavy. Tequila laughed as he watched you and you glared at him. 

“Did you hear?”

“What?”

“Whiskey might be coming down this weekend. Something about a meeting.” You visibly tensed as you clenched your jaw. You took a deep breath as Tequila watched you concerned.

“I didn’t know. How long?” You didn’t even realize you whispered this until Tequila reached over pulling you into his arms. The big lug basically swallowed you in his big arms but you didn’t care. You wrapped an arm around his waist before letting out a shaky breath. 

“Just for the weekend. Has he tried to talk to you?” You shook your head as the elevator stopped, indicating you were on the floor you needed. “Good. How about we go to that restaurant I told you about?”

“Sounds nice Tequila. We’ll take Ginger. She’s really been wanting to go there.”

“It’s a date.” You giggled at his remark. You grabbed Eggsy once more, slowly dragging him towards the interrogation room you had. Once Tequila secured Merlin into his chair, Tequila moved quickly, securing Eggsy beside him. You sat in the far side of the room as Tequila took his place in front of the both of them, leaning on the table. He licked his lips, trying not to show how much he would enjoy this as he leaned over, slapping the both of them out of their unconsciousness. This was going to be fun.

Forever Tags: @iwantthedean @authoressskr @sorenmarie87 @reigningqueenofwords @goldenolaf25 @giftofdreams @winchesterprincessbride @chelsea072498 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @itakeawfultoawholenewlevel @fictionalabyss @gabby913 @angelkurenai @sea040561 @sleepylunarwolf @smoothdogsgirl @carryonmyswansong @feelmyroarrrr @evyiione @sofreddie @sis-tafics @nitelotus @trexrambling @dancingalone21 @manawhaat @mermaidxatxheart @winchest09 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @lovebodymindstuff @backseat-of-deans-67chevy @chook007 @akshi8278 @evansrogerskitten @bringmesomepie56 @persephonehemingway @blacktithe7 @donnaintx @queenxxxsupreme @whitewolfandthefox @riviawitch3r

Kingsman/Agent Whiskey Tags:  @thesadvampire @le-roman-rose @mcudisiac @someone-take-my-bagelseverywhere @chibi-liz05 @marvel-avengers01 @themandjalorian @floccodineveautunnale @jassiepoohbear @gollyderek @retrobhaddie @wolf-lover74

Dark of the West, by Joanna Hathaway (Glass Alliance #1)

Hello! This is my first entry, and I feel like you should know. 

I’m not a writer, nor do I aspire to be, but I find a lot of comfort in expressing my feelings with words. And when I ramble too much in my journal, focusing on specific topics always helps. So let’s talk about books. This book, in particular:

I finished reading this book back in April 2020, it was my first in a lot of ways: my first quarantine read, my first “grown up book”, my first full read in English (cause, ehmm, Enlish is not my first language)...

Anyway, I’ll let you know real quick how I came upon this book, cause it’s definitely not a popular book (at least not at the moment). It all began with Dylan Matthews, from the YouTube channel Dylan is in Trouble (by far my favorite Youtuber EVER but that’s a story for another time), when in this video he mentions that Dark of the West is coming out soon, that Joanna, the author, is his friend, that he helped edit it and that if there’s ever the possibility of a movie adaptation he’s most likely gonna play one of the characters cause the author said he’d be good for it.

Of course, I immediately go buy it. For starters, I love this guy, he seems to have great taste in entretainment, he’s writing his own novel and I NEED TO KNOW WHO HE’D PLAY in a movie adaptation

Let me just say, before I actually start talking about the book, that Joanna Hathaway is one of the most interesting and thoughtful people I’ve ever seen on the internet. In my experience, she’ll always reply to your DMs and take your opinions seriously. You can follow Jo here.

So, without further to do, here are some of my thoughts on Dark of the West...

First of all, this review won’t contain spoilers, cause one of my main purposes is to get you to read this book. Second of all, most of this post is coming from the journaling session I had 10 days after I was done reading it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so, do with that information what you will.

Dark of the West is a marvelous work of fiction. It takes place in a whole other world, with WW2 scenery and themes. There we will find a kingdom with a Princess: Aurelia; and a very young militaristic nation, where we’ll meet the son of the General: Athan. The story is narrated by both of them, letting us know both sides of the story. They each have a very distinctive voice and quite unique thoughts so it’s definitely a plus that we get to know them like this.

One of the main aspects that make this world believable and so amazing is the fact that the world building is very well done. This world exists by itself, there’s a past and there’s a future, and we just get to see a little part of our main characters’ history. 

As always, for the plot to kickstart, a terrible thing occurs in Athan’s life. His father is absolutely sure that the person responsable for it is the Queen, Aurelia’s mom, and he’s determined to get his revenge. The General ends up sending Athan undercover to dig into the royal family’s secrects and make sure that he can get some leverage, to put it simple. But guess what, there’s a cute princess, how could he ever stop himself from falling in love with the princess. Spoiler alert: he can’t.

Now, don’t get confused, this isn’t just a love story. I has war, wicked secrets and touches on quite dark topics, but I promise it’s an adventure from start to finish. The thing is, if you (like me) have never been interested in war strategy, pilots, horses and family drama, I can almost assure you this book will change your mind.

It is beautifully written, not too flowery, not too flat. It has an amazing plot, very interesting characters and will most likely keep you on the edge of your seat googling reference pictures so that you can get the full feeling (not that you need them).

You can get the book here, and you should...

And if you read it, check out the author’s readalong where she shares writing experiences and all sorts of references. All explained for you right there!

Also, this is only the first book of a trilogy! The second book, Storm from the East, is out now (might write about it in a later post). And I’m patiently waiting for Book 3!

If you’ve made it to this point, I thank you wholehartedly, and I invite you to follow me if you wanna see more! My ask box is always open for questions and recommendations, and if you’ve read this book and wanna have a spoilery talk about it make sure to DM me!

I know this was all over the place but I’ll get better. 

NO MORE WAITING

Lots of love,

Andie.

A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning | 01

Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst, Stepbrother AU

Pairing: Stepbrother!Namjoon x English student!Reader

Warning: Appearance of a jealous Namjoon, rutting

Summary: Love comes in many shapes, but does not always have a prosperous fate. However, whereas parents might have found it, all the children can do is live in kalopsia.

Forbidden yet denying the mourning of the path chosen for them by Fate.

Author’s Note: Kalopsia (n.): the delusion of things being more beautiful than they are.

Also, my brain descended further into madness, deteriorating fast thanks to exams about poetry and linguistics, thus producing this fanfic which was originally meant to be a one-shot. Yet, here we are, and it would be a lie to say I am not secretly living for this.

Masterlist / Next part

Preface

As virtuous men pass mildly away,   And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say   The breath goes now, and some say, No: So let us melt, and make no noise,   No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; 'Twere profanation of our joys   To tell the laity our love. Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,   Men reckon what it did, and meant; But trepidation of the spheres,   Though greater far, is innocent. Dull sublunary lovers' love   (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit Absence, because it doth remove   Those things which elemented it. But we by a love so much refined,   That our selves know not what it is, Inter-assured of the mind,   Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss. Our two souls therefore, which are one,   Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expansion,   Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so   As stiff twin compasses are two; Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show   To move, but doth, if the other do. And though it in the center sit,   Yet when the other far doth roam, It leans and hearkens after it,   And grows erect, as that comes home. Such wilt thou be to me, who must,   Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just,   And makes me end where I begun. John Donne, Songs and Sonnets, 1633

Happiness can occur in life in all sorts of shapes in places both expected and unexpected, easy to reach or lying at the end of a rocky road. Sometimes it is a physical thing or activity that brings joy - a cup of coffee or tea on a dreary morning while reading a good book that university does not obligate you to read - and sometimes it is a person.

Dad found it in a foreign woman after divorcing Mom, steadily building a relationship from the ashes of the one that had just been burned to the ground, leaving only a daughter just finished with high school as the last steady though crumbling pillar. It could have collapsed had she not accepted the woman and the son who had flown over from a week earlier from the country she herself had left behind and managed to remain friendly despite the thirty-hour jetlag upon seeing the extended welcoming committee upon arrival. Even able to continue to do so in spite of insecurity, crazy working hours draining every last bit of humanity at times and - nowadays fairly decreased - social anxiety arousing suspicion around every unknown person.

At times it remains hard due to the cultural differences, but shared moments like dinners and helping with setting up the rooms for the new inhabitants has only strengthened the bond so that it has become like the days of the old marriage. In fact, travel stories alongside common interests form another source of daily bonding regardless of being busy with university and complaining about it.

Nevertheless, it is a form of love: family. And there is a gladness it has been restored to a formerly broken man trying to create the best life for an insecure though growing lass with wanderlust who likes to be more often absent than present.

Withal, these days the need to escape is grander thanks to a new reason.

Another love in the form of a person.

A big man who is five years older with the beautiful mind of an old soul and the brains of a proper academic, speaking with a silver tongue without lies and baritone tone reminiscent of the days spent by the sea during travelling in the gap year before giving university a chance forms a source of joy in this particular case. Habits like the patting of the head accompanied by encouragements and hugs coloured with a mixture of protectiveness and assurance before setting off on yet another adventure somewhere in the world when the educational and work schedule allows it or before stressful tests increasing the pressuring anxiety bring more comfort than they ought. How curious to see the rise in intimacy in comparison to the polite cold handshakes at the very start of the second journey during twelve careless months.

The sense of amenity has especially become more prominent after a particular night filled with terrors which occupied every dream, making the unconscious body futilely attempt to fight the horror. Joon came bounding up the creaking attic stairs and burst through the door, making sure everything was alright after urgently waking a girl he barely knew safe for what her father and his mother had told him, refusing to go downstairs to the simply furnished bedroom also functioning as a studio and office they built up together. Instead, the one-person bed had to be shared as a harmless bear lay down beside a koala and held her all throughout the night to form a guard against any evil that would dare disturb the calm.

How cruel Fate is.

To send a person who unexpectedly had brought joy to a formerly bland existence filled with self-growth and a lonely road of which the emptiness was denied for surely the scenery made up for the lack of company.

But what of the local cafés for breakfast and coffee breaks, to scan through the taken pictures, show off any proud results to a companion? What of the bookstores to wander in for hours on end, the recommendations that cannot be given to a fellow bookworm?

No one is there.

Nothing but the empty shape of the man with adorable dimples and unique laugh that strangely captured the heart from the start.

All there is, is a sole pair of sneakers that are still a tad dirtied by Scottish mud when stubbornness resulted in being stuck in the hills, too afraid of falling to come down rapidly.

If Joon had been there, big hands would have guided us both down towards the beginning of Holyrood Park safely.

Been held while walking The Royal Mile and wrapped around a warm cup of freshly made cappuccino with impeccable latte art in the form of a Smeraldo flower as the rain poured from the ashen heavens yet we were sheltered from it by Miss MacIntyre’s cosy café.

If he had been there.

Thus, the girl who denied the loneliness is regardlessly left in solitude, lost among stories that can solely be shared with the one person who already loves another in the way the lone wolf loves him.

Because the bond of stepsister and stepbrother is in the way of pursuing a beloved who makes even the stressful days easier and who speaks with the distinct deep voice that can both rap and sing poetry, an odd contrast given the important day job requiring a suit, giving the genuine encouragements needed to see the hours through when everything becomes too much. Whose clothing style shows off the secret duality and sometimes becomes part of the self-developed one after coming home on a rainy day. Definitely becomes part of it if the temperatures are low and worries about potential sickness triggers the stubborn guardian inside the clumsy giant.

Namjoon makes the world not feel as if Atlas has handed over the burden. Instead, he selflessly lifts it.

And yet the truthful smile fades when low and more high-pitched murmurs and giggles on the other side of the bedroom door are heard during passing through the hallway to the attic in the evening, for it is undeniable Heungji, a beautiful onyx-haired girl on the other side of the world in a country - the place of his roots - as gorgeous as the fox herself, will keep the bear’s heart even if miles separate love. At least there is still the digital highway to connect and keep the relationship standing.

All we have are moments like these wherein the friendliness is painfully obvious while going out for a hot beverage together or lunch depending on the time of the seminar and his function as a debtor manager for the bank allows a break, even if the day has not gone awry. Nonetheless, today it has as the linguistics exam did not turn out as well as expected and the sole source of comfort - a cup of joe - cannot be paid for since everything which is necessary for the day was transferred from the bag used for the job as a retail worker to the backpack that was decidedly a better option, except my wallet.

Fortunately, the exchange student within our seminar group and also one of the loved friends made along the way, Changkyun - who goes by the name of Daniel to make it easier for the professors and likely evade embarrassment at the hand of wrong pronunciation - has offered to pay since he, too, needs a break from studying old literature. Moreover, there was no escaping the offer since the hazelnut-haired lad with a sly hint to a stoic look knows how much depends on caffeine in this student’s life and the salary earned at the supermarket in the mall would be deposited today anyway. Besides, spending some time with a fellow student, a rare occurrence outside lectures and regular class, might bring some peace of mind to the rampant mental chaos.

A buzz shaking in the back pocket of dark skinny jeans that do all but hold out the icy winter weather signifies the arrival of a message, the name upon checking who exactly sent it immediately bringing a sliver of a smile to thin lips desperate to cry out in frustration yet remaining silent. ‘Hey, how did it go? Did the practice we did last night do you any good?’

After dinner, Namjoon tried to help with the development of the skill of being able to distinguish between prescriptive and descriptive grammar as we sat in the corner of the stone-shaded L-shaped couch with the printed twenty-five page summary of all that needed to be learned. Before it would never even have occurred to the mind to lean on the broad shoulder offered so freely and embrace the strong arm which also functioned as a stress outlet whenever answering a question wrong. Joon did not mind it, merely asked in a laughing manner not to separate the limb from the body by squeezing.

It perhaps would have been after hearing yet another Skype call with Heungji.

It is silly, being so infatuated with a person who can never be held dear in the desired manner if they were ever fated to be with the lover from afar at all. But that is the way of the world: nobody can always get what they want. At least the parents who raised us have found happiness in each other, a virtue which is more important than the selfish desire for a grey-haired man who holds the middle between a wolf and a bear.

Withal, the same words spoken by the unattainable hidden philosopher when the first doubts about the study and everything surrounding it echo in the faded buzz of companions conversing with one another while waiting for the last party member: just because it is a bad day, does not necessarily mean it is a bad life.

Eager digits foolishly in love with the hallucination firmly cloaking them, refusing to lift the veil, type out a reply speaking the not so pretty truth. ‘First part went fairly well: 68/100. Guess I’m a grammar nazi, after all. The second part proved I, apparently, cannot use grammar in the normal sense. Completely screwed that up: 58/100. Hoping for an average above the 5.0.

‘Anywho, I’m going to forget about it for a wee while with Changkyun and a cup of coffee. Forgot my wallet, but he’s paying so it’s all good. Free coffee!’

An odd uncharacteristic response comes a split second later, the tone of the text containing a harshness which would normally never be associated with the kind giant regardless of the seemingly harmless proposal. ‘I’ll pay. You know what, let’s get lunch together. My treat. I’ll come to pick you up and we’ll go to your favourite restaurant near the convention centre.’

‘Joon, it’s fine. I’ll eat something at home and get back to studying. Besides, it’s only coffee before returning to the study of 1100 years of literary history and I’m sure you’re busy.’ Normally, the chance of sharing a meal after a late morning seminar would not be skipped, certainly not at the Asian fusion restaurant nearby the station and grand cinema, but it is nice to do something with someone else for a change.

Eyes widen in surprise at the determination and silent sternness colouring the turn the conversation has taken, unbelieving of the attitude Namjoon has suddenly taken on. ‘Seeing as I’m texting you, I must not be very busy. Let me take care of you. What was the address of the building where you have class again?’

‘Is this a Korean thing or just you being a very insistent gentleman? Don’t make such a deal out of it and get back to work.’ In the beginning and even nowadays there is a noticeable difference in culture as the wolf simply does not permit me to pay for my own food when the city allows repose from obligation and we should share a meal as family.

As stepbrother and sister.

The role of the latter becomes harder with the day, but the sole audience who gets to see the actress perform remains blind to the woman underneath the makeup due to the performance which crumbles behind the scenes.

The argument is completely disregarded in favour of the behaviour laced with curious possessiveness. ‘Oh, never mind. I remember now. In fact, I’ll be there in ten.’

‘Un-fucking-believable.’ With a defeated sigh and shake of the head, the phone is tucked back into the pocket and music softly sounding through crisp white earbuds turned on again. It is the variety of upbeat Korean pop songs mixed with indie artists and symphonic metal that keeps the blood boiling enough without acting in a rash impulse. Hands are tucked in the pockets of the leather jacket lined with fake wolf fur to trap all bodily warmth. Nonetheless, there is a fleeting, spiderweb-thin, unknown emotion adding extra heat to the body despite the apparent need for control. Something different than the amorous sensation normally provoked by the tall man.

‘Y/N, you okay?’ The baritone voice making one assume the lad speaking is older than the truth dictates, makes a mocking focus shift from sneakers forever engraved by adventures in Scotland and lined with sheep’s wool lightly kicking the ground to the face of the boy who has been a friend since the beginning of September. The hero of this awful day. Wearing the same style as on the matching day, raven locks parted in the middle to make the same-toned baggy hoodie appear more fashionable than it actually is and golden-rimmed glasses framing bright almond-shaped eyes the colour of the earth in autumn set above a tall nose, Changkyun stands waiting patiently for an explanation for the change in behaviour with crossed arms. ‘You already said the test didn’t go too well, but now you seem even more pissed off. Did something happen?’

‘My stubborn... brother.’ The last word comes out with difficulty for lately the situation has grown complicated due to emotions and actions both parties show and undertake, cloaking the relationship in a confusing veil outside of the eyes of loving parents. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but his behaviour has changed and not exactly always for the better. In fact, Joon is somehow completely against us getting coffee. Just two weeks ago he wouldn’t have minded because he knows you’re a good friend of mine, but now he’s acting even worse than I do when The Red Dragon is around.’

Withal, even before the mentioned period of change, some uncharacteristic tweaks in attitude that would soon be made part of the self had been noticeable.

The most obvious one was the curious shift from jealousy which was tried very much to be hidden underneath a calm listening expression to almost undeniable relief at hearing the male coworker turned into a good comrade on the first day of work at a new job picked up a month or so ago at the local mall as a retail worker already has a girlfriend.

A little while later, mayhaps in the week that followed, a similar rapid storm of emotions passed behind the wizened gaze of the bear who was reading Me Before You by Jojo Moyes as Dad and Jeongja, the gentle lovely woman who raised Namjoon and now also has a daughter to care for, spent the evening by watching series on Netflix. The slight cramping of slender caramel digits around the bright crimson sides of the novel showed everything that secretly flashed by in the eyes partially obscured by the top side of the book at hearing a few fellow students, the sole individuals who have been deemed genuine and fun company, dropped by the store for a brief visit before heading home via the station just across the plaza. Changkyun’s name - the sole male one among the fellowship - triggered the quiet rage. The rest form no problem since they are lasses, but the stoic boy who could make an advance that would deepen the current friendship to a more meaningful bond was in the unspoken opinion seething on the stone-toned sofa.

Still is, judging from the tiny tenses of fingers or other easily dismissible negative quirks that appear after accounting having made a linguistics or literature seminar more fun than it truly was by goofing around - in a respectful manner that did not disturb the professor, of course - with a mere companion.

Another sign of transformation are the touches in the early morning when preparing the first cup of coffee of the day, the necessary beverage to get through the following hours, and a small bowl of soy yoghurt. First, it was simply digits muzzling extremely dishevelled but clean ash blonde locks which looked as if having withstood a tornado or gentle petting if they had fallen into a messy though charming bedhead look. Then those touches turned into big warm palms wrapping over the shoulder bared by the baggy shirt functioning as sleepwear, apparently a “convenient” point of support for getting something from the cupboard - being kindly slapped with a sachet of instant coffee on the head - or fridge.

None of it has been minded thus far since it casts a mirage which only adds to the forbidden longing for the tall man who can never be had and the fact Namjoon is the sole person who is allowed any kind of showing physical affection in the morning without being grumbled at. Mayhaps this is how siblings behave in Korea, showing more affection than here in Europe.

However, the intimacy to which they have grown alongside the farewell and welcome-back hugs at the airport or after a long tiring day, certainly will make any outsider curious as to what lies beneath the surface which allows the touches to this degree.

Nonetheless, in those instances, out of the sight that would surely question and judge the skinship, the world is a bit less harsh and the day easier on the psyche.

In those delusional meaningless moments, we are more than stepbrother and sister.

I am his and he is mine.

Regardless, what was minded and continues to bother the consciousness anew after being butchered by grammar and now once again tries to find a plausible explanation for the half-slumbering given excuse which bore no conviction, is this morning’s suddenly very intimate gesture. Perhaps it was an accident because there surely is no other justification for the paradoxical situation that unintentionally formed a prelude to today’s troubled train of thought.

Withal, the sensation of feeling a warm chest containing a wildly beating heart pressed against the spine while a hardened heat source pushed with the same pressure against the behind, the intention of the sensual action clear, and having arms wrapped around the shoulders in an inappropriate intimate embrace as thick grey locks appeared in the corner of barely though immediately alert vision cannot be easily let go of. Just like the full lips drowsily murmuring undecipherable statements against the shoulder blade while one hand travelled down to grip the hip and guide it to feel the slow barely noticeable rhythm set in by the wolf.

When remarking upon the fairly awkward situation, perversely wishing to remain a bit longer like this - even going as far bringing the pleasure suddenly sought after, yet not wanting to ignite any futile hope with the desire-filled images rapidly flashing by in a mental thunderstorm - Sense returned from wherever it went in an instant and the bear tainted with the traces of slumber muttered a poor excuse about not being fully conscious, having had a difficult conversation the night before with Heungji and therefore not being in the right proper mindset.

That it was just a lucid dream.

After all, we are siblings.

It meant nothing.

Simply an accident.

A bittersweet moment of actually feeling wanted as more than the sweet girl by the poet bound to an onyx fox in the land of tigers.

But it is uncertain what Heungji would think of the recent obvious displays of jealousy. Surely, it would not be much appreciated if a lover so clearly is affected by the actions of another, basically not allowing them to be with anyone who is not approved of aside from themselves. In fact, the situation a wolf and koala are in is one of cheating.

Then again, there is too much distance between the two and things are easily left unspoken.

Mayhaps I am a mere distraction.

Worth nothing.

Howbeit, if one thing has been learned from the relatively brief time together, it is that cold false games like that are not Namjoon’s way and would be an unbelievable attempt at hiding the genuine nature underneath the sometimes intimidating exterior. Henceforth, something must have happened which has triggered the change. After all, how difficult was that conversation last night and was it the first or another addition to a series of multiple? Furthermore, there are still the kind-hearted soft female giggles and sonorous chuckles resonating from the other side of the door, although not quite so often as they used to do.

It is frustrating how the self cannot let go of Hope and let Sense lead it down another, less painful, path. That there is no progress from the dream keeping the mind captured.

What would not be given in order to escape the kalopsia.  

‘He is likely just concerned for his little sister. I know I’d be if my sister would go out, even for just a coffee, with a guy despite claiming they’re merely friends.’ A small smile forms on roseate lips, promising there is nothing to worry about and this is merely natural behaviour. ‘He’s simply being a good brother, Y/N.’

‘Changkyun, you don’t- no, never mind.’ At the last second, the intent to use the accident as an argument is repressed, deciding it is too much information to share with somebody regardless of the bond with them. ‘Let’s just keep it at that he’s simply being weird but, as you said, a good brother.’

A lie which has to be believed every single day in order to move past the fantasies romanticizing reality and keeping the conscious blind to the all too eager harshness which would so like to make them crumble into tiny irretrievable shards.

To keep breathing when the salt shed in privacy has dried and Namjoon still is not there.

To just keep going.

‘Whatever you say, Y/N. Whatever you say.’

For a few more minutes, we simply stand basking in the warm scent of the building’s coffee corner while waiting for the last party member to return from the awful linguistics test, spending the time in silence disturbed by melodies only a sole pair of ears can hear. The music calms the nerves standing on edge with the for once negative anticipation of seeing the recently grown odd stepbrother appear in the doorway to fulfil the promise that could not be refused.

There is always a choice, you tell me that time and again when rock bottom is close or times are generally hard but not desperate. However, why is there not now? Why can’t you let me pick?

‘I’m so glad that’s over! All I want to do is go home and forget this bloody test.’ Golden straight locks round the corner in a whirlwind of temporarily gradually fading worry, held together by a caramel-toned hair tie. Judging from the tiredness dimming the normally bright - albeit tainted with stress more often than not - crystal blue stare, Monica is well and truly done with the day. ‘Let’s get out of here. I need to go home to study for tomorrow’s exam.’

‘Go take a break with us.’ The need for a brief repose is barely able to be dismissed from even the slightly happier expression breaking the stoic façade of the pale hazelnut-haired fellow caffeine addict. ‘Y/N and I are going to get some coffee anyway so join us.’

‘It’ll do you some good. Studying can wait until later.’ Fingers remove the headphones providing rest for a chaotic mind, the sounds of the world flowing in after melodies fade. A hand stretches out, tempting another soul into procrastination. ‘Or you’ll end up like Donne, obsessed with death. Death by studying. Come on, Mon. Let’s go.’

Withal, it cannot be taken nor a step set towards the exit of the edifice before an all too familiar baritone voice growls in warning. ‘How about you come with me?’

So far for escaping the sole person who wanted to be evaded at all costs to merely enjoy the rare occasion of doing something with friends, unrelated to university.

Because in the doorway and thus barring the way, clad in a neat onyx turtleneck and same-coloured pants underneath a trench coat which is a lighter shade of black, the outfit put on for work as a debtor manager this very morning, stands an intimidating wolf instead of the kind book-loving bear who helped with studying last night. And since there is no help, there is also no possible tactic that can be employed to still succeed in circumventing the six-feet-tall blockade.

There is no way to avoid Namjoon, raging with jealous menace.

Homespork Act 1: The Note Dawdling Tension Plays (Part 1)

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

CHEL: Here we see the first page, and are introduced to our protagonist, ZOOSMELL POOPLORD! Sorry, I mean John Egbert. The joke names used as a running gag, and also the actual names which end up applied to the characters, were the suggestions of the players of the original forum game.

BRIGHT: Homestuck does start out strongly in several ways. It immediately establishes the protagonist and location. It sets the tone it will use, one based heavily on a text adventure computer game. It introduces the reader to the inventory system...

And here the first feature of Homestuck becomes apparent: although a hugely popular and widely known webcomic, it is very slow to get going. The new reader who arrives on the recommendation of others ends up scratching their head and wondering if they’re in the right place.

TIER: In ancient times (so somewhere in 2014/15) I actually attempted to read Homestuck to see what the occasional weird noises the name caused were going on about. I'm very certain that I didn't even make it to meeting any of the other kids I was so bored.

CHEL: Same here. It took me two or three attempts to get to that point. The problem is that the intro is left over from its days as a forum game, in which no one was expecting it to lead into the epic story it became. It worked great for that format, but less well now. And here we start on our first counts.

GET ON WITH IT!: 1 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 2

How Not to Write a Novel lists multiple errors which could be said to apply here:

The Waiting Room - wherein the story is too long delayed Here the writer churns out endless scenes establishing background information with no main story in sight. On chapter 3, the reader still has no idea why it’s important to know about [the background info, in this case how badly John fails at using technology]. By chapter 7, the reader would be having strong suspicions that it isn’t important, were a reader ever to make it as far as chapter 7. Zeno’s Manuscript - in which irrelevant detail delays narrative momentum Any scene can be killed by description of every meaningless component of whatever action the character undertakes. As in Zeno’s Paradox, in which an arrow never reaches its target because it must always travel half the remaining distance, the reader begins to feel as if the end is further and further away.

A comic about a kid failing to master a video game inventory system is mildly amusing once, but not when it drags on this long, and it’s not particularly fitting for an epic adventure involving the fate of universes. Well, that’s not quite fair; introduction to mundane life and slow revelation of the magical goings-on works fine for books like the Harry Potter series. But, to take Philosopher’s Stone as an example, multiple different odd things happen over the course of Uncle Vernon’s regular boring day, increasing in scale until it’s very clear something strange is going on, and establishing multiple aspects of the wizarding world, e.g. owls, their fashion, the existence and disappearance of a mysterious villain, the fact that the wizarding world is supposed to be secret.

John fucking about with his sylladex and putting up movie posters for page after page doesn’t tell us anything new. Failing to use the sylladex once would be enough to get the point that magical video game inventories are a thing in this world and John’s not very good at using them across, and then we really ought to move on, and we can already see the posters on his walls so we don’t need to see him hanging more. Possibly we could have needed the latter in a purely text format where we couldn’t see the walls, or in a comic without text description at the bottom where attention would need to be drawn to them on-panel. Admittedly, it does establish him picking up the hammer, which becomes relevant, but we don’t need a full page each for both the action of him picking up the hammer and the action of him hanging the poster.

… Who hangs a poster with nails, anyway? His walls must be in a hell of a state.

For that matter, that’s another HNTWAN entry or two:

The Second Argument in the Laundromat - a scene which occurs twice NEVER use two scenes to establish the same thing. We do not, under any circumstances, want a series of scenes in which the hero goes to job interviews but fails to get the job, or has a series of unsuccessful dates to illustrate bad luck in love. This works in the movies, where three scenes can pass in thirty seconds, but not in a novel. The Redundant Tautology - wherein the author repeats himself If you have made a point in one way, resist the temptation to reinforce it by making it again. Do not reexpress it in more flowery terms, and do not have the character reaffirm it in dialogue […] This point is worth repeating; don’t reiterate. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 4

Additionally, people with a lower tolerance for “lovable clumsy dork” characters are going to come to hate John before the comic’s even started, though it’s probably best that people who are going to hate the main character learn that quickly so they can leave. I can understand not wanting to lose the forum game which originally spawned the comic, the other people involved would probably not be pleased, but perhaps it would be better saved as a side story and trimmed down when the comic proper was released. At least they could be compressed down by showing multiple failures and multiple poster-hanging actions on single pages.

One other minor gripe might be the neologisms, such as “sylladex” meaning inventory. I found it fairly easy to pick up and it does make the tone and narration nicely distinctive, but it’s a level of extra complication. How Not to Write a Novel has a couple points on excessively baroque wordplay - do you guys think it’s worth giving it a point for that?

BRIGHT: Possibly not in this case - wordplay is a feature of HS and this one is at least made fairly clear. There are plenty of offenders later on as I recall though...

CHEL: Okay, seems fair. In this case it is more of a feature than a bug. It does establish the narrative voice and add to the video game theme. However, the movie posters also bring up an addition to our third count.

Plus, a black president? Now you’ve seen everything! WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 1

A reference to the song “White Suburb Impressionism”, by IAMX…

"IAMX - 'White Suburb Impressionism" (Watch on YouTube)

… this count goes up whenever characters behave in a way which suggests they’re, well, white and suburban (or wealthier), despite any attempts to present them otherwise. This would have passed without comment, but Hussie later tried to claim he’d always intended the kids to be “aracial”, so any reader could project themselves or their preferred headcanons onto the kids. As we’ll show you, we don’t believe him, or at least don’t believe he succeeded. That would probably be difficult to pull off, anyway. Race affects a lot more than features on a stylised sprite.

FAILURE ARTIST: Now, I can’t quite put my finger on it but John’s and Dave’s opinion on black presidents in movies (that it’s a gimmick ruined by Obama’s election) feels like something that would only come out of a white mouth i.e. Andrew Hussie’s. Not the most egregious case of implied whiteness but still worth noting.

CHEL: The point of the joke here is not 100% clear, and that’ll be a thing which comes up later as well. See, I agree that’s Dave’s opinion, but I thought the point was that John genuinely didn’t know there was a black president at the time of writing because he’s already been established to be not exactly a genius and so far he’s been focused on movies and video games instead of real life. Maybe I’m underestimating him, though, since admittedly not very much of him has been shown at this point and it’s been a while since I read the whole thing. I’m not going to start using the ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY count here, though, because here Hussie clearly was trying to be funny. It just isn’t clear to me what about it was supposed to be funny. That’s probably my autism talking, though. Jokes are hard. I agree that it sounds like a white kid’s opinion either way - even the dimmest black American kid would know Obama existed, and so most likely would non-black people of colour.

Anyway! Things pick up a bit when John, under the username ectoBiologist, starts chatting to the second character to be introduced, currently known as turntechGodhead, though the second topic of conversation is a reference to a 1989 movie which, as time goes on, will be familiar to fewer and fewer readers. Luckily, the writer realises this, and the content of the conversation makes the reference sufficiently clear without falling into As You Know dialogue.

FAILURE ARTIST: Namely, their conversation is about a scene where - pardon me for being gross but it’s in the comic - a character accidentally ingests urine instead of apple juice. John and TG are surprised the character knew it was urine but I find it weird that someone with working smell would not know what it is. Urine has a distinct odor.

CHEL: Well, be fair. According to the drawings, the characters in question don’t have noses!

FAILURE ARTIST: On a more pertinent note, this conversation is an edited version of one Hussie and a friend had. Perhaps Hussie was TG? TG is practically an Author Avatar for Hussie. Sure, Hussie literally appears in the comic later, but TG seems to fit his true personality better. We’ll see how that affects things for better or for worse.

BRIGHT: This is also the reader’s introduction to the Pesterlog. This is one of those things that seems like it should be out of place in a webcomic - it’s just a page of two people talking to each other in chatlog format, with no other information - but the Pesterlogs actually work surprisingly well.

FAILURE ARTIST: When I first read Homestuck, I didn’t know you had to click on the Pesterlog to open it. I just sat around wondering what amazing conversations they were having. I’m not the only one I think who made that mistake.

CHEL: Yeah, I think I briefly had the same problem, but I don’t remember for sure. Possibly more attention could be drawn to the button.

TIER: I would've probably ended up in the same boat if the friends that recommended I read Homestuck didn't specifically tell me not to accidentally overlook them!

CHEL: That’s not exactly a writing error, so I’m not sure it falls under our jurisdiction, but it’s a point that ought to be brought up. The Pesterlogs do work well once the reader actually sees them, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting to see how much information can be conveyed in a conversation without falling into As You Know Bob. Let’s check what points are introduced in this first one, for example:

- John really loves what he got for his birthday, a Little Monsters poster. From this we know he’s not spoiled (this is how you do it, Meyer) and easily entertained, and likely has a good home life, as he’s so happy and grateful about a gift from his dad.

-turntechGodhead has apple juice in his closet. This establishes his odd home life, and gets explained in more detail later.

- Some things about the personalities of both kids. John is enthusiastic and a joker, TG is mellower, sarcastic, rambles a bit, and at least plays at being cool.

- John really wants to play the SBURB Beta, a game mentioned earlier which is late being released. TG is less keen, again trying to be cool about it.

- Said game got “slammed” by critics, despite the fact that we learned earlier from John’s SBURB-logo calendar that this game has been hyped to hell and back and must be popular, with merchandise and reviews being released before even the beta version of the game is out. Something weird is going on; someone really wants a lot of people to play this game.

Not bad considering a total lack of body language reference or narration. Das Sporking’s seen authors using traditional narration do worse!

FAILURE ARTIST: The (adult) critics of Game Bro get into shenanigans that prevent them from playing the game they reviewed. Perhaps there’s something in the game that prevents itself from being played by adults, just like how adults can’t pilot Evangelions in the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion.

CHEL: Not sure. Doesn’t one of Dad’s online friends play it, or at least get caught up in it, later on? Though that part’s obviously supposed to be a joke… Maybe instead it’s a built-in way to stop anyone who might be listened to warning others what it does?

As established earlier, said beta is late; this is a reference to the originally planned launch date of the comic, three days before it actually ended up being released. Also, there’s a pun you may have missed in the background. The programming files on John’s desktop include the phrase “^CAKE”. The ^ symbol is called a carot. Get used to noticing those. It’s pretty amazing how many references, self-references, puns, and recurring themes are worked in, and people such as revolutionaryduelist have made semi-careers picking them all out. We won’t bother with all of them or we’ll be here all century, but we’ll pick up on any obvious ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie majored in computer science so there’s lot of computer science in-jokes in the beginning.

BRIGHT: Something I just noticed: One of the other files on John’s desktop is ‘TYPHEUS’. It even has a Denizen icon! Probably something that has been brought up plenty of times before, but still nifty on a reread.

CHEL: Typheus and Denizens will come up later in the comic.

TIER: When he feels like it, Hussie is immensely good at foreshadowing later events in pretty subtle but solid ways. It's stuff like this that makes times when he does fumble look worse than they probably are in comparison.

Ascension

This quote is from the excellent zine Mascara and Hope - I knew the authors, and I recognise the phenomenon they're talking about; I was there at the moment in time this zine was written.

I don't think remaining in community is *inherently* unhealthy for you or a sign you have malign intent; and yet, so many people I met in community who were long past the egg phase fitted this description to a t.

In theory, I'm all for a generationally inclusive, longterm home sort of a community. In practice, the trans people I met who were 10, 20, 30 years "post transition" were not great people.

We seek community because we have a Need. For closeted and questioning people, that Need is for resources, validation, support. That's what unites us and pulls us together. However, once you're past that initial stage, if you still have a Need you want the community to fulfil - it's generally a bit more damaged and insidious.

An egg who needs validation and love from the community is a very different prospect from a trans person who has been out and proud in the public eye for 20 years - and is *still* reliant on the community for their emotional needs. People who are newly out as trans or gay are unavoidably messy, they are needy and vampiric but that's kinda ok because it is a Big Experience and none of us handle it with perfect elegance or kindness. Love me. See me. Make me feel good. If you're 20 years post-transition, and still have that level of need, it quickly becomes unbalancing.

Like, to continue bitching about this individual: she's an older woman, with famous friends, social status within the community, and some status outside it too. Conversations around her always become conversations about her, her poetry, her books, the books about her. And yet, she's on the phone several hours at a time, several times a month, to newly-out trans young adults who are dealing with physical and mental disabilities, and dysphoria, and being out for the first time, and being adults for the first time.

I feel like the support relationship ought to be working the other way around; I feel like there must be LGBT people of her age and stage who are far more able to relate to her experiences and provide effective mutual support.

I don't want anyone to misread this as - older people should be excluded from community, or older people must provide support or assume faultless mentoring roles, or must become neutered and secondary props to the emotional journeys of the young. We're all human.

But in practice? All the older LGBT people who wanted to hang out with our 18-23yr old crowd had gained considerable social status as Community Doyens; they didn't seem to give back so much as to take; and their needs weren't ones I judged appropriate or collective. Less "will you come with me to the clinic and recommend me a safe hair-dresser and gripe about harassment together". More "representation and trans voices are crucial, will you promote by book, and my existence more generally, as a Person Of Note".

Not older as in "adult whose experience guides you to find your own strength and voice" but "ballet mom who is living vicariously through her child".

Anyway, here's the full quote - which i endorse:

********

"There are quite distinct generations in the trans community

Where did all the trans women go?

There an interesting phenomenon we have noticed whereby trans women tend to 'finish' their transition and vanish from the community: we call it ascension. Most of the emotionally mature ones get on with their lives as women - the prefix 'trans' now redundant. Yes, being transgender has shaped much of your life up to this point: you probably lived with dysphoria and experienced the pain of early transition, but you are still more than just a trans woman. You have had other experiences and your identity is not so superficial that you cling to the trans label long after it is no longer relevant: it becomes unappealing to remain in a community focused on the dysphoria, harassment and GIC bastardry that you've conquered and progressed beyond. Yes, be proud of your past and what you have come through, but you may find that the community is just not worth the effort.

After transition you have enough standard person-problems to deal with, without the persistent low level nonsense of the trans community. Also, you will be sick of being associated with the non-ascension crowd who give trans people a bad image. A moment comes when you put your hands up in the air and say 'fuck it - I'm out'. This is healthy and normal. Embrace it.

Why Wouldn't You Ascend?

Congrats, you've spotted a problematic sentiment, go write your tumblr piece. We're only speaking from our collective experience, but people who stay actively in the community are rarely people we'd choose to chill with.

Some are gems, patient enough to see the same issues come up repeatedly and offer their experience and advice, but they are few and many support the community in other, remoter ways. Most leave because the community is not fun: most are in transition and transition is not fun. There are many troubles, which are draining. There's unchecked mental illness, uncalled-out. Many people who will never be accepted in society, due to lack of awareness or physical appearance permanently marking them out. One look at us would tell you we don't think everyone should be the same, but it demonstrates a certain 'Having your shit together, y'all'. There are also people, often repugnant, who enjoy the high status their experience gives them in the trans* community as experts, who lack respect outside of it. The non-ascending faction, frankly and sadly, contains a lot of damaged people.

Finished spluttering and writing to The Guardian? The whole point, even the etymology, of being trans is about movement and we feel that getting stuck in the middle is failure. You move away from troubling beginnings, through the barriers and you give someone else a helping hand on your way out. The way out needs to be there, moving to somewhere away from a past, a body and a community that do not represent who you now are. That, we believe, is healthy."

New world news from Time: Famed Physicist Stephen Hawking Has Died at the Age of 76

(LONDON) — Stephen Hawking, whose brilliant mind ranged across time and space though his body was paralyzed by disease, has died, a family spokesman said early Wednesday.

The best-known theoretical physicist of his time, Hawking wrote so lucidly of the mysteries of space, time and black holes that his book, “A Brief History of Time,” became an international best seller, making him one of science’s biggest celebrities since Albert Einstein.

“He was a great scientist and an extraordinary man whose work and legacy will live on for many years,” his children Lucy, Robert and Tim said in a statement. “His courage and persistence with his brilliance and humour inspired people across the world. He once said, ‘It would not be much of a universe if it wasn’t home to the people you love.’ We will miss him forever.”

Even though his body was attacked by amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, when Hawking was 21, he stunned doctors by living with the normally fatal illness for more than 50 years. A severe attack of pneumonia in 1985 left him breathing through a tube, forcing him to communicate through an electronic voice synthesizer that gave him his distinctive robotic monotone.

But he continued his scientific work, appeared on television and married for a second time.

As one of Isaac Newton’s successors as Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University, Hawking was involved in the search for the great goal of physics — a “unified theory.”

Such a theory would resolve the contradictions between Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity, which describes the laws of gravity that govern the motion of large objects like planets, and the Theory of Quantum Mechanics, which deals with the world of subatomic particles.

For Hawking, the search was almost a religious quest — he said finding a “theory of everything” would allow mankind to “know the mind of God.”

“A complete, consistent unified theory is only the first step: our goal is a complete understanding of the events around us, and of our own existence,” he wrote in “A Brief History of Time.”

In later years, though, he suggested a unified theory might not exist.

He followed up “A Brief History of Time” in 2001 with the more accessible sequel “The Universe in a Nutshell,” updating readers on concepts like super gravity, naked singularities and the possibility of an 11-dimensional universe.

Hawking said belief in a God who intervenes in the universe “to make sure the good guys win or get rewarded in the next life” was wishful thinking.

“But one can’t help asking the question: Why does the universe exist?” he said in 1991. “I don’t know an operational way to give the question or the answer, if there is one, a meaning. But it bothers me.”

The combination of his best-selling book and his almost total disability — for a while he could use a few fingers, later he could only tighten the muscles on his face — made him one of science’s most recognizable faces.

He made cameo television appearances in “The Simpsons” and “Star Trek” and counted among his fans U2 guitarist The Edge, who attended a January 2002 celebration of Hawking’s 60th birthday.

His early life was chronicled in the 2014 film “The Theory of Everything,” with Eddie Redmayne winning the best actor Academy Award for his portrayal of the scientist. The film focused still more attention on Hawking’s remarkable achievements.

Some colleagues credited that celebrity with generating new enthusiasm for science.

His achievements, and his longevity, also helped prove to many that even the most severe disabilities need not stop patients from living.

Richard Green, of the Motor Neurone Disease Association — the British name for ALS — said Hawking met the classic definition of the disease, as “the perfect mind trapped in an imperfect body.” He said Hawking had been an inspiration to people with the disease for many years.

Although it could take him minutes to compose answers to even simple questions Hawking said the disability did not impair his work. It certainly did little to dampen his ambition to physically experience space himself: Hawking savored small bursts of weightlessness in 2007 when he was flown aboard a jet that made repeated dives to simulate zero-gravity.

Hawking had hoped to leave Earth’s atmosphere altogether someday, a trip he often recommended to the rest of the planet’s inhabitants.

“In the long run the human race should not have all its eggs in one basket, or on one planet,” Hawking said in 2008. “I just hope we can avoid dropping the basket until then.”

Hawking first earned prominence for his theoretical work on black holes. Disproving the belief that black holes are so dense that nothing could escape their gravitational pull, he showed that black holes leak a tiny bit of light and other types of radiation, now known as “Hawking radiation.”

“It came as a complete surprise,” said Gary Horowitz, a theoretical physicist at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “It really was quite revolutionary.”

Horowitz said the find helped move scientists one step closer to cracking the unified theory.

Hawking’s other major scientific contribution was to cosmology, the study of the universe’s origin and evolution. Working with Jim Hartle of the University of California, Santa Barbara, Hawking proposed in 1983 that space and time might have no beginning and no end. “Asking what happens before the Big Bang is like asking for a point one mile north of the North Pole,” he said.

In 2004, he announced that he had revised his previous view that objects sucked into black holes simply disappeared, perhaps to enter an alternate universe. Instead, he said he believed objects could be spit out of black holes in a mangled form.

That new theory capped his three-decade struggle to explain a paradox in scientific thinking: How can objects really “disappear” inside a black hole and leave no trace, as he long believed, when subatomic theory says matter can be transformed but never fully destroyed?

Hawking was born Jan. 8, 1942, in Oxford, and grew up in London and St. Albans, northwest of the capital. In 1959, he entered Oxford University and then went on to graduate work at Cambridge.

Signs of illness appeared in his first year of graduate school, and he was diagnosed with ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease after the New York Yankee star who died of it. The disease usually kills within three to five years.

According to John Boslough, author of “Stephen Hawking’s Universe,” Hawking became deeply depressed. But as it became apparent that he was not going to die soon, his spirits recovered and he bore down on his work. Brian Dickie, director of research at the Motor Neurone Disease Association, said only 5 percent of those diagnosed with ALS survive for 10 years or longer. Hawking, he added, “really is at the extreme end of the scale when it comes to survival.”

Hawking married Jane Wilde in 1965 and they had three children, Robert, Lucy and Timothy.

Jane cared for Hawking for 20 years, until a grant from the United States paid for the 24-hour care he required.

He was inducted into the Royal Society in 1974 and received the Albert Einstein Award in 1978. In 1989, Queen Elizabeth II made him a Companion of Honor, one of the highest distinctions she can bestow.

He whizzed about Cambridge at surprising speed — usually with nurses or teaching assistants in his wake — traveled and lectured widely, and appeared to enjoy his fame. He retired from his chair as Lucasian Professor in 2009 and took up a research position with the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics in Waterloo, Ontario.

Hawking divorced Jane in 1991, an acrimonious split that strained his relationship with their children. Writing in her autobiographical “Music to Move the Stars,” she said the strain of caring for Hawking for nearly three decades had left her feeling like “a brittle, empty shell.” Hawking married his one-time nurse Elaine Mason four years later, but the relationship was dogged by rumors of abuse.

Police investigated in 2004 after newspapers reported that he’d been beaten, suffering injuries including a broken wrist, gashes to the face and a cut lip, and was left stranded in his garden on the hottest day of the year.

Hawking called the charges “completely false.” Police found no evidence of any abuse. Hawking and Mason separated in 2006.

Lucy Hawking said her father had an exasperating “inability to accept that there is anything he cannot do.”

“I accept that there are some things I can’t do,” he told The Associated Press in 1997. “But they are mostly things I don’t particularly want to do anyway.”

Then, grinning widely, he added, “I seem to manage to do anything that I really want.”

March 14, 2018 at 09:43AM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com

Qasim Rashid's Tasteless Independent Piece about Sex Abuse

I was appalled to see this article on Twitter the other day. I don't even have the words to express how tacky and distasteful this is.  As the far-right rises in the West, I find myself more interested in pushing back against that (since it's more of an urgent issue impacting our day to day existence here).....than constantly criticizing Islam in a climate where Muslims are singled out, generalized and targeted.  Nuanced and legitimate criticisms are lost anyway nowadays, to fear-mongering about Mooz-lums raping their way across the globe to secretly instill Shariah.  But then there comes a situation where you just have to rebut something as stupid and insensitive as the article above...with all you've got. Hopefully, my rebuttal won't get lost with ignorant takes like: "Islam is worse than Nazism" or "90% of Muslims are ticking time-bombs"... ..so here goes:   With all the overuse and false accusations of "Regressive Left" floating around atheist twitter, its hard for an actual left-leaning person to recall a time when this term had meaning and referred to an actual problem. Well, this article is a great reminder on how the left can utterly fail in the way it deals with the topic of Islam. I can't believe such an article was approved and put out by such a well known publication. What were they thinking? Who is making these decisions? I mean...they may come from the perspective that they're doing this to offset the increasing anti-muslim bigotry, to normalize Muslims in a political climate where they become dehumanized more and more each day....but they can't seem to comprehend that defending Muslims can be separated from championing Islam. Before seeing this one, I came across quite a few tasteless takes regarding the awful Weinstein scandal. It seemed everywhere I looked someone was hijacking it to further their own agenda. A few standard "Oh you think Weinstein is bad, but what about Islam...that's way worse!!" type takes from ex-muslims that I've become used to seeing....and cringing at. Oh you think the alt right/white nationalism/nazism is bad? What about ISLAM - it's way worse!!" It seems, that some are incapable of discussing anything other than that one topic (which makes it all the more off-putting for me). There's a time and a place....there's a way to acknowledge multiple problems without minimizing the suffering of Weinstein's victims. This isn't to say, of course that when the conversation is turned towards sexual abuse that we cannot also bring up other forms that people often let slide.... especially when religion gets a pass on everything. I saw some Saudi feminists bring up some important points about how migrant domestic workers are assaulted on an everyday basis in Saudi society by privileged Saudi men...who get away with it. But they didn't do the, "Oh you think Weinstein is bad? Well Saudi men can be WAY worse" thing....where they bring the other topic to light only by minimizing the harm that Weinstein did. That is the difference.....one that many 'but what about Islam' types don't understand. "Yes we have similar problems too which we need to discuss" is a whole lot different from "Oh, Pfft, this? It's nothing compared to the cause *I've* dedicated *my* life to. And you know what, no one's perfect we're all likely to fall into that trap accidentally sometimes... but the ones who have a distinct repeated pattern of constantly being unable to address any issue without the added, "but what about Islam/The left" have become incredibly unhelpful voices. ...Speaking of unhelpful and cringeworthy voices though..I have to say Qasim Rashid, the author of the Independent piece is one of the worst I've encountered on this issue. The 'but what about Islam' takes are bad, but fuck....using a sex scandal to spread religious propaganda, to *proselytize*.... is a whole new level of scummy. Not only is it scummy but he goes about it in the most dishonest way. Yes we should absolutely encourage liberal, progressive interpretations of Islam. I find it incredibly unhelpful when people hold every liberal muslim to an 'ISIS purity test', that basically no one passes...and therefore the only 'real' muslims are the extremists. That is not a good approach. But, when it comes to more progressive interpretations of religion there are those who acknowledge the plurality and plausibility of multiple interpretations. They admit that some verses are just not ok by today's values. People like Qasim however will argue that everyone else has it wrong... they've misinterpreted and HE somehow has the correct interpretation. They cherry pick without acknowledging they are cherry picking, unlike more honest reformists who openly say that cherry picking is the path forward. Like all the Abrahamic religions, obviously...Islam too is full of contradictory crap er...stuff. So naturally you can pick a bunch of things that sound alright, or you can pick a bunch of things that sound barbaric. But if you really want to look at the whole picture you can't ignore either...both anti-muslims and apologists for scripture like to ignore the aspect convenient to their narrative and push the other. "Islam is PURE EVIL" or "Islam is PERFECT and PEACEFUL and FEMINIST" .... there are some pretty vile, murderous, misogynistic, hateful things in there...certainly some of that is 'evil'....but there are some alright bits that are cherry picked by modern progressive muslims, which makes most of them peaceful. 'Perfect', it certainly is not...'feminist'...nope. Be wary of anyone claiming either of those. I mean its absurd on the face of it...morals from centuries ago are simply not going to work today. If you try to claim they are *perfect* for today, then you're endorsing or twisting some pretty awful shit. Anyway.... *Cracks knuckles* Lets get into it....this fuckin' article. What a crock of shit. "My advocacy is informed not just by the law, but by strategies detailed in Islamic teachings and Prophet Muhammad’s example to pre-empt sexual abuse." Almost spit my beverage all over my keyboard...thanks for that Qasim. Would Mo's example pre-empt sexual abuse here?

From Sahih Bukhari

Slavery too....if defined by scripture is permissible in Islam....and slaves were to accept that owners are allowed to sleep with them at will. As stated in Quran 33:50

Obviously this is not a practice any decent Muslim would endorse today, but if you want to go by Mo's example...then it's worth mentioning. It would be one thing to make some excuse about it being a different time....and the example not measuring up by today's values... but if you are going to literally say a sex slave owner's values are what can prevent sexual abuse....I'm going to have a thing or two to say. Yes such slavery predates Islam, and so continued under Islam...I am not a fan of people using archaic texts to define an entire diverse group by today. So no this is not for you far-righters who paint all muslims as pedophilic rapists. What about this strategy detailed in the Quran, 4:34

Does making men in charge, commanding women to be obedient, and giving permission to 'strike them' also pre-empt sexual abuse?

***

I have to say I cringe a little while I'm picking out these verses to debunk this idiotic article, because I'm all too used to seeing how anti-muslims use these to dehumanize and generalize Muslims who may not even be aware of such verses. I know many like myself were taught curated versions of scripture. Religion is full of this kind of nonsense.... slavery, stoning babies, virgins...killing people who disobey...fathers ok-ing rape of their daughters for a few $$. Islam is certainly not alone in this, so think twice before painting Muslims with a broad brush. I cannot say that enough, especially in the Trumpian era.

***

"Let’s start by understanding two facts. First, a woman’s attire, alcohol intake, marital status, and education level do not contribute to sexual abuse – abusive men do. Second, sexual abuse doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Every level of society – social norms, media, and Government – is complicit in promoting the rape culture that perpetuates sexual abuse." "Social norms demonise a woman for speaking out, victim-blaming her by asking what she was wearing, whether she gave signals inviting abuse, or asking why she didn’t speak up sooner." Very good Qasim...I'm glad you pointed out that a woman's attire doesn't matter. But the Quran (24:31) seems to disagree,

Here it tells believing women not to flaunt their assets, and even wrap a portion of their headscarves/outer garments over their chests. Clearly a woman's attire mattered to Allah, and therefore Mo quite a bit. (24:60) only postmenstrual woman are allowed to cast out their 'outer garments' even then being careful not to display any 'adornment':

So Qasim, when you talk about social norms demonizing a woman, victim-blaming her by asking her what she was wearing....perhaps look honestly at the things you yourself recommended to 'pre-empt' sexual abuse. Laughable really. Don't even get me started on the punishments Islam prescribes someone for adultery...so I'm pretty sure marital status matters too. You're right when you say every level of society can be complicit in promoting a culture that perpetuates abuse....but you conveniently miss out religion - old value systems that simply didn't classify abuse in the same way we do now. If you want to be a women's advocate, how about not preaching a misogynistic religion to them while they open up about their painful abuse experiences. "state laws only punish the actor once the act is completed, they don’t prevent the act in the first place. This scenario plays out repeatedly worldwide, whether we’re discussing “revenge porn”, gender based violence, or sexual harassment in the workplace.

This is where Islamic teachings and Prophet Muhammad’s example provide a solution that no state truly can. "

What the fuck, dude. What are you even trying to say here? While you're right that banning cat calling won't work, and that it isn't preventative... what's your solution? Islam and Mohammed? Are you for fucking real right now? Are you saying that being fearful of some god that would burn you for eternity and that following in the footsteps of a prophet who's example isn't known for his fair treatment of women, who owned slaves...and consummated with a child is what will prevent sex abuse better than modern man-made law?!  Right because religious people NEVER sexually abuse anyone....if only they had had access to the teachings if Islam and the example of Mo. It's embarrassing really, to even debunk this.

Read story here

"Yes, Islam implores accountability to the creator, but rather than preach empty dogmatic theories, Islam instead prescribes a proven secular model." What are you even on about? Accountability to the creator? How old are you... how well has that worked to prevent religious people from sexually abusing people or committing any crimes? Secular model? What? "Thus, the Quran 4:2 first establishes men and women as equal beings. Chapter 4:20 then forbids men from forcing a woman to act against her will, thereby ensuring women maintain autonomy and self-determination. " Now, just because theres some contradictory more benign seeming stuff in there... doesn't mean you can ignore the wife beating verse (4:34), where aside from the 'strike them' nastiness...it literally says this: "Men are in charge of women by [right of] what Allah has given one over the other" Or how about the women are your farmland... plough them however you like (just don't do anal tut tut) verse (2:223)?

I mean, I hate to put on my "let me point out all the awful verses in the Quran/Hadith" hat right now, because I know the alt/far-right loves that stuff and uses it to stir hatred for whole groups which include people like me and my family. But in the face of this tasteless absurdity, I cannot remain silent. I can only hope I put enough "I dislike anti-muslims" caveats in here that it prevents them from latching on to this particular piece. I'm not alone in feeling that my criticism of Islam is sort of stifled at the moment because it's too easily hijacked by bigots, anyone with a shred of decency is feeling that right now.

Anyway, back to this unfckingbelievably ridiculous piece. I honestly can't wrap my head around how awful it is..and what kind of person you'd have to be to write something like this, especially in the midst of a high profile hollywood sex scandal. "Here..... stop fussing about this sex scandal...and listen to all the good things about MY religion, one that has a bad reputation for it's treatment of women" ....Oh ok @ssh*le.  -___- Aaand it gets a whole lot worse than I imagined. Qasim actually links to a previous even more nauseating piece he did about THE WIFE BEATING VERSE FFS, where it's a bunch of the most pathetic and weak twisted apologetics for 4:34, and it's actually titled: "The Islamic Solution to *stop* Domestic Violence" [emphasis mine] I can't....I have to take a break.....I walk away from the computer, pour a drink, take a breath. Alright, I'm back...What was I saying? Oh yeah... His fucking *solution* is the verse that says men are in charge of women and you can strike them. THAT, to him is pre-empting domestic violence.. because by making men in charge it gives them some responsibilities and shit. He's thrilled it doesn't go straight to beating....this is a good thing apparently....An 'anger management strategy' - what the actual fuck is wrong with this guy and how is he allowed to pump this shit out in mainstream liberal publications like Huffpo and Independent?? And I quote, from the Huffpo piece, "Pre-emptive deterrence is the key. And this precisely is the wisdom behind verse 4:34 to decrease and stop violence against women. The verse in its totality describes a process of restraint, anger management and reformation." 'Wisdom' he says...About an infantilizing, abusive verse that clearly doesn't hold women in high regard. Just because it doesn't jump straight to the beating, it's a process of restraint. Fucking hell. "Employed effectively, these two steps help reconcile the vast majority of domestic disputes. Should the first two steps fail, however, the Quran allows — never commands — men to consider the third step, translated as “to chastise them.” Look, it *allows* --- it doesn't *command* you to 'chastise' your wife. (since the beating isn't compulsory...that makes it totally ok) Firstly Qasim, slick replacement of strike with 'chastise'. Secondly, obviously this is only for the rarest of times...for when the first two infantilizing and humiliating methods don't work on her (that totally excuses the fact that u can resort to ..you know... beating her) If the first two steps don't sort out your domestic dispute, it's because you didn't employ these perfect strategies 'effectively'.... Of course then his article delves into semantic bullshit about how the word for strike isn't actually that. Nothing I haven't heard before...but I haven't come across anyone with the audacity to argue they are progressive *and* suggest the wife beating verse as a goddamn *solution* to domestic violence. There are many Muslims who genuinely acknowledge that this verse is not palatable today....Qasim is not one of them. He would rather twist it to say it means the opposite of what it says in mainstream interpretations of the Quran. He'd rather appear dishonest in front of anyone who knows anything about Islam. This doesn't help Muslims, or their reputation...quite the opposite in fact. So I sincerely don't understand why left leaning publications put out stuff like this. All this does is breathe fire into anti-muslim movements. It energizes them, gives them something to rally around.

***

Sorry I went off into a rabbit hole there for a bit, so enough about the horrid Huffpo piece, and back on to the horrid Independent one....where were we... "And when it comes to the Islamic concept of Hijab, it is men who are first commanded to never gawk at women, and instead guard their private parts and chastity, regardless of how women choose to dress – pre-empting sexual abuse." I just love how he selectively points to the male requirements for modesty, saying that it tells men to lower their gaze... but he completely skips over the modesty requirements for women. You know, what hijab is literally KNOWN for? Slut-shaming women into covering head to toe and holding them responsible for provoking lust....no mention of the double standards about what men are required to do vs women. Of course men are commanded first because the whole Quran refers only to men directly (with a couple of exceptions)...when it refers to women it is in third person or via men..."tell your women/wives" type stuff. The Quran isn't some great feminist book, it puts men first because it only talks to *them* directly. "Accordingly, the Prophet Muhammad by example demonstrated that the burden of modesty, respect, and combating abuse of women rests on men. Indeed, men must take the lead in stopping such sexual abuse." Oh COME ON, the guy who married a six year old and had slaves? I really hate to sound like a broken record here... but Qasim is being one, so I need to keep repeating the obvious. "After all, while the Quran obliges women to dress modestly as a covenant with God, Islam prescribes no punishment whatsoever for women who choose to dress otherwise." Oh yeah totally, it's just an afterthought that the Quran obliges women to dress modestly...nothing to do with placing the blame on them for enticing men. Oh and the Quran doesn't describe the details of Salaat/prayer either....so I guess that must not be Islamic either. Here's a verse specifically commanding the wives of the prophet to stay home and not display themselves if they want to be 'purified' (funny thing is, this is one of like 2 or so verses that directly address women, and it's to tell them to not put themselves on display! Imagine that.)

O wives of the Prophet, you are not like anyone among women. If you fear Allah, then do not be soft in speech [to men], lest he in whose heart is disease should covet, but speak with appropriate speech.

And abide in your houses and do not display yourselves as [was] the display of the former times of ignorance. And establish prayer and give zakah and obey Allah and His Messenger. Allah intends only to remove from you the impurity [of sin], O people of the [Prophet's] household, and to purify you with [extensive] purification.

And 33:59 spells it out clearly, women of the believers....cover yourselves so you aren't abused.

Just because the book hasn't specifically prescribed a beating in *this* situation... (I mean... a lot could be covered under 'disobedient wives') - doesn't mean that the general climate of "stay at home, do not put yourselves on display... or else you won't be pure" crap isn't pressuring women with the threat of hellfire.

"women in Islam rise to the rank of legal scholars, warriors, entrepreneurs, and philanthropists while lovingly embracing identities as mothers and housewives.

Weinstein is a symptom of the greater disease of arrogance, unaccountability, societal apathy, and from men who knew of the abuse but did nothing. Islam and Prophet Muhammad provide a practical solution."

Oh ffs, a man who ok-ed wife beating and keeping them at home, married a child and thought women could be owned as slaves does NOT provide a practical solution to sexual abuse. You're an embarrassment Qasim. 

So shameless...

"Together, we can employ a proven Islamic model that will stop this madness, and re-invoke gender equity today in America, and the world."

Who is he preaching to? How did the Independent let this happen, this is like a lecture you'd hear at Islamic Sunday School....does no one understand that this kind of horrific dishonesty, easily debunked....does nothing to help muslims. 

It's a real shame this man gets a platform like this. I'll say again, who approved this and what were they thinking? Who is the audience they hoped to reach with "together lets employ an Islamic model to stop sexual abuse"? This is some bullshit 'religious right' propaganda....get it together Independent. 

I'm all out of facepalms. I think that's all I got for today. 

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