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thewordswewrite · 2 years

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Lonely Is Our Lives

Chapter 4 - Poison

Pairing | Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

!!VERY IMPORTANT A/N!! | I want to preface this by saying I DO NOT condone Billy’s actions throughout the series. I DO NOT condone his violence or abuse, ESPECIALLY against Lucas but also including Max and the others. At the time season two came out in 2017, nearly FIVE years ago at the time I'm writing this, I was very angry and frustrated at the world, resentful of a younger sibling, and disconnected from the people around me so I kind of latched onto Billy as a character and what he represented. I absolutely DID NOT understand what his actions against Lucas truly meant and I DID NOT register it as the racism it was. Knowing what I know now I've decided to write a fic where Billy is able to let go of some of his anger and have someone there to check him and his actions in order to set him on a better path. I wrote this for me as a bit of a redemption fic for both of us.

Playlist | Link | Chapter Four: Songs 13-16

Story Summary | One fateful 1983 night you narrowly escape death on Steve Harrington’s property while Barbara Holland is presumed dead. Left jaded and angry, you carry on towards your senior year in a haze of sex, drugs, and alcohol just to get through the day. But, when Billy Hargrove moves to Hawkins, Indiana during the fall of 1984 things get worse before they get better.

Chapter Summary | You start feeling uneasy in your agreement with Billy and begin pulling away. At school, you make progress with Nancy but your good mood is quickly ruined. You try to avoid Billy but he shows up at your job and the two of you have an interesting night.

Story Warnings | explicit language, angst, abusive parents, smut 18+ minors DNI, heavy drug and alcohol usage, alcohol/drug abuse, implied physical abuse, injuries,

W/C | 4.2k

Taglist | @youcantbesirius @xronniexo @zzokks @marihoneywk @darlingjae @lem0ns7

A/N | Sorry I took a long time off guys I moved across the country for college and I have been trying to get into a routine so I haven't had much time to write. expect the final chapter a little later than next week but probably not months later lol we’ll see..... anyway thanks so much for sticking around though hope you enjoy!! -Smoe

Donations | Link

You suppressed a cough as you took a, longer than necessary, drag from the blunt before passing it to Billy. It’d been about two weeks since you started hooking up and in that time Billy took to lingering after sex. You’d been hesitant at first to let him stay; you had a strict no-cuddling policy in place for all your flings and didn’t intend on breaking that for Billy. Billy, though, began to stay in bed longer and longer before getting dressed and it had escalated to lying around and smoking, or drinking, or talking. Billy claimed it was because he was tired from ‘fucking you into the mattress for an hour’ but you guessed he might just like the peaceful company. He was always yelling around his sister and her right back so you could imagine the volume at which his house operated and couldn't say you blamed him.

As you laid against Billy’s shoulder, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, you felt a heavy weight settle in your stomach; the way he had begun to pull you to his side, the feel of your combined heat and the post-sex smell lingering in the air. The casual closeness of it all had you on edge. It needled in the back of your mind though that maybe he stayed for you, which scared you far more, suddenly wishing he’d just gone home.

“What’s up?” Billy suddenly broke the silence and your easy mood curdled. He didn’t sound concerned necessarily but the interest was there.

You feigned ignorance, scrunching your eyes closed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just seem…” He gestured with the arm you were laying on, jostling you. “Off.”

He was right of course but you didn’t want him to know that. An honest explanation would either wind up with him thinking you were crazy or worse: he’d believe you and think he owed you honesty as well. The thought had you caught between wanting him to tell you everything going on in his life and wishing you didn’t know his name.

You took the blunt back from him, hastily shoving it between your lips and with a shaky exhale rubbed your forehead. Half-truth it was. “It's just–there's an anniversary coming up and it’s got me wired.”

You felt him nod and his chest puffed up before he heaved out through his nose. “I get it,” He plucked the remainder of the weed from your fingertips and finished it off before speaking again. “When my mom left…” Oh God. “It’s fucked and I get fucked in the head about it.”

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. He thought you were talking about your mom. You played it safe and still he gave you sincerity. Your throat was closing up quick and you had to respond. “Yeah,” you rasped, words thick and sticky in your mouth. “It’s fucked.”

Your shoulder was throbbing, the ache spreading up to your head and you quickly broke out in a sweat. The desire to get away was overwhelming and you pulled yourself from Billy. His fingers stayed lazily attached to you, as if second nature, until you were physically too far away for him to reach you. The final brush of his fingers burned against your skin as you sat on the edge of the bed, your head resting in your hands. You glanced at him over your shoulder, desperate to find him uninterested in you, but were met with dark eyes instead. It unnerved you that he wasn't saying anything, just watching and waiting. Patient. This is too much.

“I need a shower.” You took a steadying breath and stood up. You didn’t give him time to respond as you left the room and locked the bathroom door behind you.

You shed your shirt and climbed into the steaming water. The shirt was just another thing he didn’t question you about after that first time; just another thing that Billy Hargrove did that made you want to cry. Things were getting too close, too real. Billy was just supposed to be a distraction and you supposed it worked because now he was all you could think about.

You felt hysterical, you thought you never talked about anything serious but now you realized you knew his favorite color was blue, deep like his Camaro, and that although he didn’t really listen to anything other than hard rock he didn’t really mind the records you put on when he came over. He often told you how he thought Max was ‘such an annoying shitbird,’ but you heard how as he talked his voice grew more fond than irritated. You knew things about him but you’d never divulged much to him before today and it changed things, you felt the tactile shift yet Billy seemed unfazed.

Your fingers rubbed over the grooved ridges of your scar and you shuddered. Memories of the Upside Down mixed with your unease towards Billy made you nauseous. You wracked your brain trying to think how you had let him this close in just two weeks? You stood in the water for longer than you knew, the hot water loosening the physical tension in your body but your mind still raced.

You only turned off the shower when you noticed you’d begun to shiver, the water having gone cold, and you grabbed your towel, wrapping it around yourself. In the silence of the house you listened closely to see if you could hear any indication of Billy’s presence and when you couldn’t you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, eyeing your bed from the hallway to see that it was empty. Relieved, you walked to your room and quickly got dressed.

As you laid in bed staring up at your ceiling, you thought the stress would dissipate but, once again, you were wrong. It wasn’t the type of anxiety that buzzed around you and had your leg shaking a mile a minute, it was the inescapable type that coated your insides, making it all too easy to lose yourself in between sparse breaths. You curled in on yourself, the feeling weighing you down like it was its own source of gravity, pulling you in. Your eyes watered but the tears refused to spill over so instead, you squeezed them tighter and pushed the feeling down.

You needed to sleep, you had school in the morning.

~ ~ ~

The day had been slow going. Your realization of just how entangled your life had become with Billy’s was all that more startling when that morning you noticed yourself unconsciously taking steps towards Billy’s car. Recently you rarely spent those early hours without him; you’d taken up the habit of sitting with Billy in his car and smoking until first bell but today you searched the parking lot for Steve. You spotted him leaned up against Jonathan Byers car, Nancy between the two boys and sneered. You felt a stab of betrayal towards Steve but you’d been so wrapped up with Billy, you didn’t even notice you only saw your best friend at lunch. Steve moved on from Nancy’s harsh words, and you hadn't even given yourself a chance to.

Throughout the day, your classes dragged and you could barely keep your eyes open because of your restlessness the night before. You confronted Steve about Nancy during lunch and he said he’d simply forgiven her.

“I just don’t understand how you can do that after what she said to us,” You seethed.

Steve sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I love Nancy. She’s important to me,” Steve raised his eyebrows accusingly, “And I don’t want to throw that away just because she’s not in love with me.”

Your eyes rolled so hard it nearly gave you a headache. “I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me.” You pushed your fries around your tray and looked back at Steve.

Steve’s voice dropped a bit and his eyes were sad. “Well you’ve been M.I.A. and I missed my friends.”

You’d apologized and promised to go to his basketball game that Friday and hang out afterward. You didn’t mean to spend all your time with Billy, in fact, you hadn’t even realized you were until the night before, when it hit you all at once and you panicked. Avoidance was something you specialized in, most of the people in your life though, did not.

“I’m sorry!“ A feminine voice assaulted you, pulling you out of your own head. You jumped and looked to see Nancy standing behind your locker door. You just stared blankly at her and continued to rifle through your locker so you could leave. “I was really drunk and I kept thinking about…” She trailed off.

“Steve forgave you, right?” You deadpanned, and slammed your locker closed.

Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed exactly like they always did when she was confused and the way the space between her eyebrows creased was so startlingly familiar it made you ache with longing. You never had many girl friends growing up and even those you did before, you could never say you held too close to your heart but something about Nancy hurt. She cared so deeply about all the people in her life and was quite literally willing to fight monsters for them, for you.

“He did.” She was twisting her fingers together anxiously. “But-”

“Then fine, I forgive you. Happy?” You moved to sidestep her but Nancy blocked your path. Her long skirt swished around her and her newly permed hair shone in the light. She seemed stronger and more confident than before you knew her as ‘Nance’ but the sadness you both shared echoed within her.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, I know you’re trying to get better and what I said wasn’t fair.” Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she strained against the emotion within her.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced away, her pleading starting to get to you. “You were really shitty for that.”

Nancy smiled softly and with regret, “I was.”

She looked into your eyes the way only she could and there wasn’t anything you could do but relent. You heaved a sigh and grabbed her shoulder to pull her into a hug. Her hair smelled eerily similar to Steve’s and you smiled into her shoulder at the idea of Steve giving Nancy hair advice. The two of them were your weakness, they were closer to family than anything else and you missed that.

“You’re such a messy drunk, Wheeler.” Nancy laughed and squeezed you harder.

When you pulled back, you saw Jonathan beginning to walk up to the two of you. Steve and Nancy had only been broken up for maybe a week so the fondness you found in the Byers boy’s eyes caught you off guard. You released Nancy from your hold and smiled tightly at the boy. Nancy turned and when her eyes caught his they softened, your chest tightened. They shared a silent exchange before your friend finally remembered you were there.

Jonathan stepped forward until Nancy was resting her back against him. No possessive gestures or tight arm around her shoulder but anyone who looked at them could tell they were together. They fit well, all easy touches and quiet words.

“Are you going to Steve’s game on Friday?” Jonathan asked.

“Yeah,” You nodded mildly confused. “Getting food after too.”

“Awesome, we’ll save you a spot,” Nancy smiled and leaned off of her boyfriend. She took his hand and began to lead him away. “See you later!”

You simply put a hand up in goodbye then finished getting your things from your locker.

You were getting ready to swing your backpack over your shoulder when you felt the sting of a slap land on your butt followed by a bruising grab.

“Lookin’ good babe!” You whipped around to see Tommy Hagan with his arm wrapped around Carol, one of his goonie friends following in his wake. Tommy shook his head apologetically and pointed to his friend who held his hands up in surrender, a dopey smile on his face.

You took a step towards him, ready to return the assault when someone shoved after you. You watched as Billy stalked up to the boy and shoved him full strength to the ground, quickly climbing on top of him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Billy had the boy’s hoodie twisted in his grip. “You think you can touch my girl like that?” There was spit flying from his mouth as he yelled at the boy below him.

You watched, almost in horror, at the display in front of you. Your arrangement wasn’t supposed to mean anything and now Billy had told anyone and everyone who was listening you were ‘his.’ You wanted nothing more than to go up to Billy and scream in his face that you didn’t belong to anyone, let alone him, but you couldn’t. You flinched at the noise of skin connecting to skin followed by a dull crack as Billy broke the nose of the boy who had grabbed you. You began to retreat backward, bumping into people as you went and made a B-line to your car.

You figured work would help you cool off before you had to face Billy again now that he’d fucked you over. You didn’t date. You weren’t dating. He had no right to act like that…jealous. Billy Hargrove had another thing coming if he thought you were ‘his.’

~ ~ ~

Work had been boring. Robin was only there for half your shift before she got off and you were stuck sitting in an empty record shop for three hours. Almost no one came in except for a few kids right after the middle school let out, but that’s when Robin was still there and you weren’t alone with your thoughts. You’d cooled off after a while but sitting there alone had riled you back up.

You were now sitting at the counter, having already reorganized the records and done stock, the dull thrum of Van Halen in the background and your head resting in your hands. You had more important things in your life to care about other than Billy Hargrove and his ego. There was something stirring in Hawkins and you had been as ignorant as everyone else, content to see nothing. Jonathan and Nancy had been doing recon work on the lab and met up with some guy named Murray to expose the experiments. Hell, even Steve kept busy taking care of the kids but you had been so wrapped up in Billy you hadn’t seen it.

Although it bothered you that you were out of the loop, you were also a little relieved you could forget about the Upside Down for a bit and pretend you were just a dumb high schooler. No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, it had been relaxing to lie around with Billy after you fucked, or at least until your shoulder throbbed and you were brought back to reality. You sighed heavily at the memory of Billy’s head between your thighs and dropped your head down onto the counter. In desperation, you looked behind you at the mounted clock and closed your eyes in relief, just fifteen more minutes.

You quickly began your closing routine: turning off neon signs, stopping the music playing over the speakers, and doing one final sweep of the shop before you were putting on your jacket and locking the door behind you. You did a quick sweep of the parking lot and froze when you saw that goddamn blue Camaro parked right next to your car. Your shoulders dropped and you dragged your feet as you walked to your driver’s side door. Billy didn’t even give you the chance to unlock the door before he stepped out of his car and leaned against the hood.

“Come with me,” He wasn’t even looking at you, more occupied with lighting his cigarette than bothering to spare you a glance.

“I’m tired, Billy.” You sluggishly rubbed your eye. “And I can’t just leave my car here.”

Billy stretched his neck, “C’mon, I’ll drive you back when we’re done.”

You shook your head incredulously. “I’m not fucking you tonight!”

Billy’s eyes drew together and he finally looked at you. “That’s not-,”

“You know you have some nerve showing up at my job and demanding sex, especially after that shit you pulled today!” As he stared at you, you noticed that his lip was split and your anger softened.

“Just come with me,” By all accounts to anyone else Billy would sound almost demanding but to you, he sounded…pathetic. “I’ll bring you back, I promise.”

You examined him carefully, searching his face for anything that would put you off and when you found nothing, finally conceded. “Fine.”

You walked around your car to Billy’s and sat in the passenger seat you’d unknowingly grown accustomed to. When Billy got in, you saw him reach for his favorite—because you knew these things now—cassette and quickly batted his hand away.

“If I’m coming with then I get to pick,” You challenged.

Billy paused but just put both hands on the wheel and began to back you out of the parking lot. As you flipped through his tapes, you watched Billy out the side of your eye but quickly looked away when suddenly he was doing the same. You felt your cheeks flush from being caught and pulled your full focus onto the music. As you read the bands, you noticed a funny pattern.

“Ya’ know you have basically the same music taste as my buddy Eddie,” You saw Billy’s hands grip the leather of the steering wheel a bit harder and smirked, deciding to push the subject. “Yeah, he’s into all this hard rock and metal stuff,” Nail in the coffin time. “He’s even got this wicked guitar on his wall, it’s like his prized possession.”

“You’ve seen his wall?” Billy tried to ask with as much nonchalance as possible but you knew him too well by now; he was pissed.

“Well, yeah,” You fully faced the window to hide your growing delight. “I get my fix from him…same as you.”

Suddenly, Billy swerves the car off the road and onto a dirt path leading into the woods, the leather of his seat sticking to your exposed legs the only thing keeping you from nearly flying out of your seat.

“Billy, what are you-” Before you could finish your sentence, Billy was throwing his cigarette out the window and his smokey lips were on yours. Frustrated, you pushed him off of you and pressed the heels of your hand into your eyes. “What is your problem?”

“What’s your problem? You’ve been acting insane,” He exploded. “One minute you’re screaming and riding my dick the next you’re leaving and telling me to fuck off!”

“That’s all this is! You’re not my boyfriend!” You yelled back. “We agreed, just sex, nothing else. I. Don’t. Date.”

Billy closed his eyes and slammed his head back against the headrest and you decided to make your point once and for all. Your hand reached over the center consul and found its place on Billy’s thigh, causing him to suck in a quick breath and look at you.

“We agreed, sex is fine,” You raised your eyebrows in question and waited until Billy slowly nodded. “But that’s it.” Billy nodded again and your fingers moved to his belt, slowly undoing it as you watched him get antsy. The button on his jeans looked ready to pop as you palmed him through the denim and you relished in the breathy sigh the boy before you let out at your touch.

You’d previously taken for granted the way you were able to make Billy fall apart, so you wanted to draw this out as long as possible. When you finally freed him from his underwear, he was all but panting at your small touches.

You took his length in your hand and did a few experimental pumps to gauge how needy he was and smiled when he held his breath, straining against the seat. You had only planned to jack him off but in a moment of impulsiveness, you dipped your head down and wrapped your lips around his cock. Unprepared, Billy’s hand instinctively gripped your hair, causing you to immediately release your suction and sit up.

“That’s not how this is going to work,” You narrowed your eyes and leaned as if to kiss him but stopped just a hair short of his lips. “You don’t touch me and you take what I give you, understand?” Billy’s eyes were locked on yours and he looked a bit taken aback but once again nodded. “Good boy.”

You moved back down to his lap and Billy grabbed the headrest behind him to steady himself as you once again locked your mouth around him. You took him in painfully slow and you could feel the tension in Billy’s thigh where you had your hand perched to support yourself. When you finally had him at the back of your throat, Billy let out a groan and bucked just enough to make your eyes water. You bobbed your head a little faster and heard Billy’s breath quicken.

You heard the tell-tale sounds of his impending orgasm and quickly let him go with a pop of your lips, making sure to stop just before he could reach his peak. He huffed out a breath and in apology, you licked up the underside of his cock until you reached the tip and planted a kiss.

Billy looked down at you helplessly. “What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy after what you pulled today did you?” You began stroking his length again. “I want you to admit I don’t belong to you, then I’ll let you finish.”

For anyone else, this would have been a no-brainer deal but you knew Billy’s pride. His eyes hardened and he shook his head. “I’m not going to beg.”

You smirked. “We’ll see.”

It was a vicious cycle, watching him so close to coming undone and waiting for him to say the words only to have to stop yourself. You knew he was becoming aggravated but truly you didn’t know how long he could hold this up, so you let out a tentative moan to switch things up.

Almost immediately Billy’s mouth fell open and you could hear soft pleads but not the words you wanted from him. The moans continued to spill from your mouth and reverberate around the car and Billy became louder in his begging.

“P-please,” He choked and slapped a hand over his mouth.

You took him from your mouth and continued pumping. “You know what you have to say,” You smirked to yourself and replaced your hand for your mouth.

You could feel him about to cum and he finally began to speak. “You don't belong-”

The sound of knocking on the window and a light shining through into your eyes startled you both from your fog of pleasure. When you got up, you saw the unmistakable look of disappointment on Chief Hopper’s face. Billy’s face on the other hand was stark white, a cold sweat having broken across his forehead. He was trying to quickly shove himself back into his pants but his hands shook, making you impatient. You rolled your eyes and reached over his lap to roll down the window.

“What’s up, Hop?” You smiled gruffly, past the point of being embarrassed by this man who you fought side by side with.

“C’mon kid, you know you can’t do things like this,” He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Sorry Chief, you know how it is,” Your body felt heavy now that the adrenaline of the situation wore off and you yawned. You dared a glance at Billy who’d been uncharacteristically quiet and saw him staring at his lap.

“Look, son,” Hopper turned his flashlight to Billy. “You follow me out of here and I won’t call any parents tonight. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir.” Billy’s voice was horse and he made no attempts to move.

“You’re lucky you’re here with this one,” Hopper nodded at you, “If it were anyone else tonight would’ve ended very differently, Hargrove.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hopper sent you a pointed look and you watched as he walked back to his cruiser. Billy sagged in relief as soon as the two of you heard the slam of Hopper’s door closing and stuttered out a shaky breath.

“What a mood killer,” You joked trying to ease the tension.

“That can’t happen again,” Billy declared in an even voice as he started the car.

You quirked a brow and shrugged, “It’s Hopper, he’s not gonna bag us for anything. Trust me we go way-”

Billy slammed his hand on the dash. “That can’t happen again.”

“Fine then,” You held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry, about the blue balls though, California. Maybe next time.” You smiled sardonically at Billy’s seriousness undercut by his still bulging pants. “Now, take me back to my car.”

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dowhatteverer · 2 years

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I was going to save this for nitpick November, but screw it, @solardragun 's post got me thinking.

RWBY's kingdoms take heavily from other cultures in the real world and that kind of bothers me. Mainly because they 1) only have four kingdoms and so a lot of them are a mishmash of real world cultures that holds a lot of problematic elements, and 2) don't really take these things into consideration when they're making characters.

(quick disclaimer that I am a white girl from the Midwest USA, so I don't have all the knowledge on how exactly this would affect POC, if any person of color sees this and has something to add I'm happy to hear it)

Normally I wouldn't be bothered by having a lot of racial diversity in a fantasy story because if dragons exist, so can black people, the problem with RWBY is that because the kingdoms are so heavily based on real world cultures, it makes it really confusing to figure out how a Chinese character like Taiyang Xiao Long would be from European coded Vale and not the Chinese/Japanese coded Mistral. And because this world is so small with only a certain amount of places these characters could be from, it makes the amount of different ethnicities in this world shockingly small. If there's no Mexican coded country in Remnant, then can Maria actually be Mexican? It seems like they've created a situation in which certain people are able to exist in this world, but others just aren't.

Also, it's incredibly offensive to make Mistral just a whole bunch of Asian countries mashed together considering how Asia is constantly treated like a monolith by westerners. Especially when you consider that Atlas is supposed to just be the united states of America. It gives off a lot of weird vibes if I'm being honest. Like, the writers decided to make Mistral just China, Japan and maybe a few other neighboring cultures because these white people can't be bothered to think about how that would look, but they didn't bother to make Atlas a mix of the US, and Canada? Because I smell American favoritism and very thinly veiled racism.

Also I think it's just lazy that they chose to copy parts of real world countries they find aesthetically pleasing rather than actually think about the world they've created and build their kingdoms off of that.

#rwde #honestly basing atlas after america and Canada would have made a lot of sense #considering atlas's climate is basically an exagerated version of Canada's #and how america and Canada are often lumped together #but the writers actually live in America so they can't easily fall into that trap the way they can with China and Japan

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chloeseyeliner · 1 year

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tw:mentions of nationalism,racism,(slightly less of) homophobia and femicides.

[all credits for the tweets go to @ k._antonis on instagram]

"I hope for Turkey to soon be demolished,to hurt and feel how it is to lose people,you cursed,may God burn you all."

"in the end,God was Greek! #earthquake of course we are not taking pity on you!"

"sending help to Turkey is a civilised deed,like the slaughtering and raping that the barbarian Turks (every invader) do when they invade another country (see Cyprus). QUESTION: SHOULD WE SENT HELP?"

(this last one is actually from a president of a party.a party that has a place in the parliament,represented by ten members.which means people voted for it)

enough is enough.

the (ongoing) tragedy that followed the earthquake in Turkey and Syria was followed in turn by (the usual) nationalistic comments,comments which are focused on events that happened centuries ago,comments that show that,even in 2023,there is not so much hope for certain people to change their views.and that's a tragedy itself,too.

before anyone,if anyone ever reads that,comes at me for whatever reason,I want to put a disclaimer here:I do not mean that everyone is like that when I am refering to certain events happening in this country,which I love but recognise the problems of that need to be solved.I am just furious about certain people's reactions to Greece sending help to the countries during this difficult (difficult is an understatement) time.

sending help is the least we can do as a whole.

I am not usually a person who expresses her opinions on the internet;to be honest with you,it's very hard,a roller coaster ride worth of anxiety for me-anyway,this isn't about me.

this time,though,I want to talk.

I want to talk about the nationalistic side of things,from the perspective of a person who grew up and is still living in this country, a person who has seen a lot and heard a lot and is sick and tired of being stuck in the 19th and the 20th century.

for almost nineteen years,this country has been what one would call my homeland;yet,how can you give the label "home" to a country whose people yell that refugees from Syria take our jobs,a country where your yiayia forbids you from talking to the Pakistani family down the street who greet you every morning,because they are dangerous people who cook and smell and act weird,a country that thinks different is equal to weird,a country that kills difference,literally and figuratively,whose people throw queer couples out of the taverna because the "normal" costumers want to eat in peace,a country in which you count down on New Year's Day and the next moment you start counting the number of the women killed this year by their husbands/lovers/exes etc.,a country that even tries to kill theatre,its own child,and that (despite of it being an issue for further analysing) may seem completely irrelevant,but if you think about it,isn't it theatre that teaches us how to love and accept and live peacefully with others?isn't it theatre that teaches us about tragedies?

a country whose people do not want to help their neighbours/other nations because of our "past",when,at the same time,they claim to have read the history and know it by heart,when,at the same time of saying that God cursed these people,the most practiced religion in Greece is Orthodox Christianity and the church that gives the New Testament away to young students has such influence? have all these wars and all these tragedies and Jesus taught you nothing?haven't they taught you not to hide your nationalism behind the door of religion and history?haven't you gotten the message for being at peace with each other and others,to "love thy neighbour"?

the thing is,at least from my experience,almost no one ever says anything to anyone when they hear curses and "threats" (with or without quotation marks) towards the Turkish people and the people from Syria-I myself have been guilty about not putting people in a place to think critically of what they have said many times and I sincerely apologise for not acting at the moment because I was afraid.I get that some may be afraid;but silence is participation oftentimes;when you are learning about the Greek Revolution at 4th grade and little Kostakis or Anna indirectly make their hatred towards Turkish people,because that's what they have probably heard at home and the teachers/other students do not have an open dialogue with them or/and their caregivers to understand the situation;when your grandfather and uncle are still cursing them for even existing because of past events and you just sit in the corner of the table;when,when,when...

I just don't get it.

I understand that these people set Greece (that was merely a nation back then,walking in baby steps,which I also understand) free back in the 19th and 20th century from the Ottoman Empire,and I recognise the tragedy of the Catastrophy of Asia Minor,and (for the people in the tweets above talking about Erd*gan and the turkish airforce) I get that today's president utters scary words for many and acts in a certain way,to put it lightly,sometimes.

but what I don't get is why some still think and act this way;on the contrary,history,as I mentioned above,should have taught us some things at this point.

my great-grandmother was from Asia Minor and horrible events occured there,I realise that,I am grateful that she survived and I exist,but how could we hate on the people that are now facing something so horrible and tragical and curse them on top of everything-on top of their loses,their tears,their pain,their mourning?how can we complain about and hate on the country's decision to send help to them?

last but for sure and certain not least,I want to send my deepest condolences to the people from Turkey and Syria.

we are right here,besides you.no hatred.just love and peace.

and help.

[click on the link on the word "help" to see ways in which you can,if you are,of couse,able to do so.

also,I am sure that there are posts more eloquent than this one that explain a lot more other ways in which you can do so.]

#turkey #syria #earthquake #help #i did not mean to sound so angry but these tweets I saw drove me mad

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ashereadsstuff · 1 year

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'Ander & Santi Were Here' By: Jonny Garza Villa

I received an ARC from Wednesday Books through NetGalley in exchange for a honest review.

Rating out of 5:⭐⭐⭐.5

Release Date: April 25, 2023

Content Warnings: Racism, Deportation, Xenophobia, Police brutality, Kidnapping, Sexual Content, Violence, Trafficking

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SYNOPSIS:

Finding home. Falling in love. Fighting to belong.

The Santos Vista neighborhood of San Antonio, Texas, is all Ander Lopez has ever known. The smell of pan dulce. The mixture of Spanish and English filling the streets. And, especially their job at their family's taquería. It's the place that has inspired Ander as a muralist, and, as they get ready to leave for art school, it's all of these things that give them hesitancy. That give them the thought, are they ready to leave it all behind?

To keep Ander from becoming complacent during their gap year, their family "fires" them so they can transition from restaurant life to focusing on their murals and prepare for college. That is, until they meet Santiago Garcia, the hot new waiter. Falling for each other becomes as natural as breathing. Through Santi's eyes, Ander starts to understand who they are and want to be as an artist, and Ander becomes Santi's first steps toward making Santos Vista and the United States feel like home.

Until ICE agents come for Santi, and Ander realizes how fragile that sense of home is. How love can only hold on so long when the whole world is against them. And when, eventually, the world starts to win.

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MY REVIEW:

I received an electronic ARC on NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This book was...Something

Even though the book was a little slow for my taste and I have a short attention span (take that as you will), I did like the book, and the amount of diversity was fucking great and made every character fun and interesting to read about. But there were times where the dialogue annoyed me or sounded like something a person wouldn’t say in real life; it was sometimes written like how an alien thinks 20-ish-year-old humans talk. There were also many pop culture references that were amusing at first but quickly became annoying and cringey. I thought that the Spanish incorporated into the book was nice, but there is no translation for the Spanish. It would be nice to include the translations in footnotes or in parentheses. As someone who is bilingual, I understand that sometimes English can not really emphasize the urgency of some words and phrases, and being a minority is very important for the characters and the plot, but people still need to understand what the characters are saying. Given the subject matter of this book, some of the conflicts seemed to be resolved far too quickly. And this book definitely didn’t feel like a YA book considering how many times it references sex and that the main characters are literally adults as well.

At first, I thought everyone should read this book because of the political and cultural topics that are being discussed and challenged, but my view changed dramatically after chapter 40. It’s incredibly slow. I somehow finished the book, but it took me a long time to get there because I had to take breaks. To give you an idea of how long it took, I started this book on January 25th, and this book is only 336 pages. Normally I finish books like that within 1-2 weeks, depending on my personal life. But I do like the ending; I saw it as very fitting considering the trajectory of the book.

I would not read this book again, and I would only recommend it to people who like cheesy, romantic movies. I don’t even know if I like the book.

#netgalley #book reviews #advanced reader copy #2023 releases #YA #young adult #lgbtq #fiction #queer fiction #Contemporary #nonbinary #wednesday books #romance #lgbtq romance #Jonny Garza Villa #Ander & Santi Were Here #ashe reads stuff

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therapy-ghost · 1 year

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Hi, thanks for wanting to do the pair-up exchange. Can I have the fandoms DC, Marvel and the Walking Dead?

𝑭𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔: I'm about 5'5, pale skin, blue/grey eyes, blonde around my face and brown then black at the ends of my hair. I have many many piercings, and I'm covered in tattoos. I'm curvy/plus size and am body positive.

𝑯𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒆𝒔: Reading, writing, collecting rings, journaling, tarot. I'm also collecting as many books as I can because I want to have my own library where people can take whichever book they wish.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚: INFJ, Chaotic Good, Gryffindor, Aquarius Sun, Capricorn Moon, Aries Rising, Pisces Venus (this last one might help with the match especially). I'm a passionate person and have strong opinions. I will always stand up for what I believe in, no matter how scared I feel. I think I'm quite witty and intelligent, although I do get overwhelmed quite easily. I'm incredibly open-minded and progressive. I love to laugh and make others laugh too. I'm sensitive, and intuitive and can pick up on other people very easily. I have strong gut-feelings and kinda ... understand a person's vibe? Like I can sense someone's aura but not see their colour.

𝑨𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄: I love cottagecore, I'm very witchy but also a little grunge and gothic at the same time.

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔: Learning - especially witchcraft, watching tv, day-dreaming, listening and discovering new music, I love being at home, writing and then taking a reading break. I adore baths and constantly buy items from Lush.

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒔: (other than the usual injustices of sexism, racism, and homophobia), I strongly dislike spiders and will scream whenever I see one. I don't like close-minded people, or those who make fun of others. I hate passive-aggressiveness, large crowds and loud sudden noises.

𝑳𝒊𝒍 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆:

・Have shaved my head. Asked my stepdad for his clippers and went into the bathroom and ...hacked at my hair. It was very liberating, I think every woman should do it at least once in her lifetime

・I adore animals - I have a cat and dog! I want more but my cat is too much of a princess and won't allow any other animal in the house

・Bought a tattoo gun from the internet and I tattoo myself. I do the majority of my own piercings as well. I like to learn how to do things like that. I've kinda learned how to do hair and do mine, my mum's and my nunna's.

Hello and thank you for doing this match up exchange with me!

For Dc I match you up with: Starfire

To be clear; this is the 'im a dumb teen girl' teen titans go starfire; this is the gorgeos, smart, strong goddess star fire from like teen titans vs the justice league.

at this point she knows alot about earth, but theres still alot she would like to know; so that could be a fun activity for you two.

you remind her of raven in a way with the witch craft.

I feel like she would also love lush(I love it two) And she would find either the snow fairy or happy hippie the best smelling(my personal headcanon)

would not like to idea of a tattoo but would love for you to give her a simple piercing.

and will love you to do something simple to her hair; nothing to crazy.

Cottage core matching outfits.

for Marvel(MCU) I match you with: Bucky barnes

he is with the tattoos

after the whole winter soldier thing, he needs someone to be there for him and you seem good

he will help you with spiders to be honest; but it will be a fight.

the grunge and the cottage core witch is a cool aesthetic to see in couples in my opinion.

he is a bit passive agreesive but will only do it when youre not around.

also hates crowds so indoor dates is nice.

I see a dog as a pet; he is an animal person and dogs are nice companies to have around to free your mind from anything and everything for most people.

and For the walking dead, I give you: Beth Greene(durring the prison)

She is a true Pisces to be honest so it was destined.

she would love your style but would also be a bit confused with it.

Maggie would also adore you and is happy for her sister.

she would like you to cut her hair and put it up for her; she likes the way you do it.

when the virus starts; you and her would be the ones with judith.

she would honestly enjoy tarrot cardss during this time cause if its a good reading then this will make her more hopeful forr the future.

she is also a very passionate person so standing by each other in opinions is common.

thanks for being patient, i hope you enjoyed

#match up exchange #The walking dead #Marvel #Dc

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jwowwsboobs · 2 years

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so im just thinking abt my girlies. artery … i already kind of sort of talked abt how sexism in the metal scene impacted jack in relation 2 her drug and alcohol issues but i didnt go into how it impacted anyone else in the band which like im gonna be honest i think abt jack the most. i will admit im not above favoritism w my “blorbos” (feminine) but thats not the point the point is i totally wanna talk abt the rest of them too! n so im making this random ass post abt it bc i just lovvvvvvveeeeeeeee hearing myself talk. anyway i have no good transition 👍 hope someone out there enjoys this messy delusional ranting :) its like 1.4k words or something sorry not sorry n im not adding a read more. scroll fast or something idc

some background: artery was founded in 1981 by max(ine) kennedy (vox + rhythm guitar) n ronnie young (drums), who l8r enlisted gale barker (bass) n obviously jack walsh (lead guitar). their discography consists of “Dig Yr Grave” (demo, december’81), “Spitfire” (demo, june 82), No Mercy, No Peace (album, feb 83), Total Annihilation (album, jan 84), and Death (album, may 85).

also btw gale is black n ronnie is hispanic (potentially) im still trying 2 figure out if/how racism may fit/fits into the band’s eventual implosion which i will! but bear in mind this is all very much a work in progress n i dont have everything fleshed out n it may change over time etc etc etc.

okay okay so max was never the most confident frontman (woman? person? whatever). most of her what she wore both on stage n off in the early days/pre- n during the no mercy no peace “era” was baggy band shirts n plain jeans, usually flared but not always (around 84 she sorta shifted 2 skinny/regular jeans onstage but wore flares offstage occasionally). gale prefered 2 be comfortable onstage n off, often wearing tank tops or a band shirt cut into a muscle tee with jeans or combat pants when onstage or pj pants, sweatpants, or other loose pants when offstage. jack wore the same venom shirt n straight leg jeans 4 probably her entire career. they smelled like shit btw but they burried her in it anyway cuz it was 4 sure what she would have wanted. ronnies personal style was a little more feminine than the other girls in the band, preferring halter tops and heels when off-duty and home in california while the other girls stuck with their tee shirts and sneakers, but wore jeans and tee shirts just like the rest of them cuz surprise surprise its so much easier n faster 2 throw on the closest shirt n jeans 2 u than 2 come up with a whole outfit while on tour in a shitty van with four other ppl.

so ya in the early days when max trying 2 avoid attention 4 being a Girl In A Band(TM) she wore more basic, nondescript clothes. which didnt rlly do much cuz her voice is…idk mezzo-soprano or contralto i think more contralto but that is beside the point the point is she is a girl n when she sings you know its a girl singing. n this stressed her out cuz she didnt want the focus 2 be on the fact that they were an all female band making loud, fast music, she wanted the focus 2 be on the music.

ronnie was less concerned with being taken seriously as musicians than she was with sounding and looking good as a band. her preference was that they have a cohesive, consistent look, she didnt really care what it was as long as they stuck 2 it.

so in the early days, artery agreed that they thought it would be best 2 keep their image in promotional materials shadowy n vague, often relying on images taken live where their hair mostly obscured their faces, they were in motion. or obscured by drums, in the case of ronnie.

this didnt really fly when they moved over 2 a major label 4 their 2nd album. they, as a band, continued 2 insist on wearing what they normally wore (jeans, tee shirts, battle vest etc.) in interviews, in photo shoots, on stage, while the label tried 2 push them towards more sexually charged, “feminine” clothes and more glamorous, labor intensive hairstyling (especially 4 gale, who whould have had 2 straighten her hair regularly) and makeup.

nobody was happy with this. max was unhappy bc she felt pressured 2 be something she wasnt n didnt want 2 be, gale was unhappy bc she felt that presenting themselves in a more glamorous way was opposited 2 their sound n roots in punk rock and the image the label was attempting 2 push had racist, eurocentric undertones, jack was unhappy cuz she would have had 2 actually brush her hair and agreed w gale, n ronnie was unhappy cuz everyone else was. luckily the label did eventually give up on trying 2 push their image in a specific way, cuz of the band’s vehement n intensive pushback against changing their image. but while artery was fighting with the label, they were also fighting with interviewers asking them insufferably sexist questions. jack for example, was not allowed 2 be interviewed on her own cuz she would generally physically assault someone who asked her something stupid like “whats it like being a girl in a band?” or “how do u ladies all manage that time of the month?” n etc. just anything that wasnt related 2 the music, tour, album etc shed tend 2 get pissed abt. n while most of the bands they played shows w or went on tour were cool, there was still the occasional asshole in a band they were playing w, asshole fans on tour, asshole security, etc. ronnie once left some stuff in their van on the tour 4 total annihilation n went out 2 get it w/o her backstage pass, n when she tried 2 get back in, was refused entry bc there was a no groupie policy. ronnie spent probably 20 minutes trying 2 convince the dude that no, she was actually in one of the bands playing. eventually the tour manager came out 2 get her after jack (who had her pass but not ronnies) found her n tried 2 get her in (security would not let either of them in and mistook jack 4 a dude). occasionally drunk male fans would find their way 2 the hotel they were staying in n harass, or try 2 harass, the band. max was a particular focus of these fans, n often carried pepper spray when on tour, and became more n more paranoid about her safety as time went on. the band briefly took some self-defense martial arts classes together in late 84 as a part of jack’s first (n only) rehab stint, n 2 help max combat her paranoia n anxiety.

gale got some shit 4 being black n being in a metal band but not much as far as i know cuz she didnt exactly put herself out in the public “sphere” the way ronnie, jack n max did. yeah she played shredding 6, 7 minute bass solos live n chatted w fans n came 2 the parties w everyone else n did the interviews like everybody else (sans jack), but she didnt really want 2 be in the limelight off stage the way ronnie, w her immense love of being interviewed n saying outrageous things just cuz she could, did. max was in the limelight whether she liked it or not (she didn’t like it) which messed her up n was part if why, after artery disbanded early late 85/early 86, she disappeared off the face of the earth (<- exaggeration but kind of accurate.) i think one of the reasons jack jumped intensely into drugs n alcohol was bc she felt ignored off stage, n wanted 2 prove 2 the other ppl that the band was touring w that she was as badass as the rest of them, she could drink as much as/more than them etc etc etc i went over this in the tags of the other post. n also she was just insane w many mental issues 👍 i dunno much abt what in particular i just know she struggled n then od’d n died. max also struggled w alcohol, especially on artery’s tours bc she was trying 2 use it 2 be more relaxed n outgoing when performing. i believe ronnie tried coke during artery’s final tour. gale smoked weed recreationally n 2 this day is a big proponent of legalizing marijuana in the US.

i think i covered just abt every i wanted 2 cover! 🍻🍻 thanks 4 listening or whatever sorry if it makes no sense im not doing super well

#no questions at this time thank u :)#artery tag #xoxo #long post #been thinking abt this 4 daysssssss on end trying 2 unpack it all <- impossible task #its okay tho i feel good abt this #n i DID try 2 spell check this but if i missed anything idk guess what word i was trying 2 say idc

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recentlyheardcom · 6 months

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LONDON (AP) — Two of London's Metropolitan Police officers were dismissed from the force on Wednesday after a disciplinary panel concluded that they committed gross misconduct over the stop and search of two Black athletes.Bianca Williams and Ricardo Dos Santos, both professional sprinters, told the police watchdog that they were racially profiled by a group of police officers on July 4, 2020.The couple were driving home in London with their 3-month-old infant son in the back seat when police followed their car and pulled them over outside their home. The athletes were handcuffed and searched on suspicion of having drugs and weapons, but nothing was found.The disciplinary panel heard the officers said they followed the athletes’ vehicle because of Dos Santos’ “appalling” and “suspicious” driving, and that they were doing their duty when they conducted the stop and search.But the panel concluded that two of the officers, Jonathan Clapham and Sam Franks, lied about smelling cannibis during the incident.The panel’s chair, Chiew Yin Jones, said their conduct breached standards of professional behavior in respect of honesty and integrity, and the two were dismissed without notice. The panel found it not proven that Clapham and Franks breached equality and diversity standards in their behavior.Three other officers were cleared.Williams, a sprint relay gold medalist at the 2018 Commonwealth Games and 2018 European Championships, filmed the incident and the video was shared widely online. She has said that she hoped the hearing would lead to the Metropolitan Police being “more honest” about its “culture of racism.”Dos Santos said after Wednesday's hearing that he believed he was accused of “bad driving, threatening violence and drugs” based on “racial stereotypes.” During the hearing, he accused the officers of detaining him for “DWB — driving while Black."“We’ve supported the IOPC (Independent Office for Police Conduct) case over the past three years and it’s highlighted what most Black people are far too aware of regardless of their background, education and employment," he told reporters. “They are nine times more likely to be stopped by the Met and three times more likely to be handcuffed.”The Metropolitan Police, the U.K.'s biggest police force, has been dogged by allegations of institutional racism and sexism in recent years. In March, an independent review said the force had lost the public's confidence because of ingrained racism, misogyny and homophobia and must overhaul itself.“Mr. Dos Santos and Ms. Williams deserved better and I apologize to them for the distress they have suffered," said Matt Ward, the force's deputy assistant commissioner.The panel’s findings highlight that police “still have a long way to go to earn the trust of our communities, particularly our Black communities, when it comes to our use of stop and search," he added.

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imhannahsowhat · 11 months

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I’m Finally Comfortable In My Own Skin

Growing up overseas isn’t all the glitz and glamour most people think it to be. There is no fancy expatriate lifestyle, massive house, or personal chauffeur. There is, however, feeling like you don’t belong and a loss of identity.

When I was seven years old, my dad uprooted the family and moved us all to China. First, it was Chengdu, Sichuan, for two years, then it was Shanghai for the remaining nine.

I had finally begun to get used to life in Chengdu after the jarring transition to an American international school. Then, one day, my parents announced that we were going to move to Shanghai. It destroyed my world. I had finally settled down and found comfort in the daily routine of waking up and going to school, and suddenly they’re telling me that I need to do it all over again, from the top?

And just like that, I was brought to Shanghai. Smack in the middle of the school year too. It would have been much better if I was the new kid at the beginning of the school year, when all the new kids usually arrived. But nope. A kid doesn’t get to decide when the family moves.

Anyway, this school in Shanghai was a lot bigger than my previous one in Chengdu. While the school in Chengdu’s demographic was largely Asian, with only a handful of white students, the school in Shanghai was much more diverse. However, the unfortunate truth is that, with a larger student population and greater diversity, comes social hierarchy. Yes, even at nine years old.

I quickly figured out who the “cool” kids were. Somehow, the definition seemed to fulfil these requirements: prolific in English without a trace of an Asian accent, good at sports, with an optional academic excellence. I was never great at sports, my longstanding history with asthma prevented it. So, call it internalised racism or whatever, but in an attempt to move myself up the ranks of the social ladder, I sought to distance myself from the Chinese-speaking students and associate myself with the Westernised ones. I told myself: I might look like them, but I am sure as hell not going to act like them. It didn’t really help that all the Asian kids who were already in the “upper ranks” thought exactly the same way I did. We all ended up half-assing our Chinese classes, opting for the bland sandwiches over the more flavourful soup noodles at lunchtime, and being overenthusiastic when participating in class to show that, yes, we can speak English, and exceptionally well.

A “buddy” was assigned to me on my first day of school, tasked with showing me around and getting me settled in. They were essentially forced to be my friend, for lack of a better description. This girl – R – became one of my best friends for the remainder of that school year. Although I had been acquaintances with Caucasians before this, this was the first time one of them had been a close friend. Unfortunately, after that school year, we were placed in different classes up until Year Nine. It was strange getting to know her all over again, albeit not changing much between 10 and 13 years old.

It started off great. We were attached at the hip, Mondays to Fridays. Even meeting each other at church on Sundays. We formed a wannabe rock band as our Co-Curricular Activity, she the lead singer and I the guitarist. We went on church camps together, meeting kids from other international schools across Shanghai, conveying tales of unforgettable weekends to our table of enamoured friends over lunch. We told each other everything, from crushes to family frustrations, there was nothing too personal to share.

However, that sometimes came with consequences. The phrase, brutally honest, doesn’t come from nowhere.

She started small, scrunching her nose at the smell of the occasional Chinese food I decided to have for lunch, but otherwise staying silent. Then, it was her comments about the food on our yearly school trip to parts of rural China. Something about how it was “disgusting”. I gave her my week-long supply of granola bars.

Sometimes, there would be passing remarks.

“I don’t understand why the Chinese girls hang out in such large groups. They’re so noisy.”

“Asian guys aren’t that attractive.”

The statements were never directed at me. They couldn’t possibly be. I was her best friend!

She was talking about the other Chinese kids. The other Asians.

I boiled it down to cultural differences. It’s not her fault she feels that way, she’s simply from a different culture. But somehow, somewhere, I always felt like something was a little... off. I was always trying so hard to gain her approval, trying to show her that I was “not like the other Asians”, and that I was worthy of climbing up that social ladder. I continued to half-ass my Chinese classes. I continued to eat the bland sandwiches. I worked so hard in English class that I scored higher than she did, and even offered to help her proofread her essays. I grew distant from the other Chinese-speaking kids, and even the other Asians in my year group. Most of them had outgrown their internalised racism at this point, so I was the only idiot clinging onto my false identity for dear life.

It was draining. Despite all my desperate attempts to turn a blind eye, there were times where I could feel her silent judgement radiating off of her. I started to feel as if I didn’t know who I was anymore, being one person at home and another in school. I wanted to hold my head high and be proud of my heritage, where I came from, but I was scared. I didn’t want to be judged by the person who I thought was closest to me. I wish I could say that this realisation all came to me in a sudden epiphany, but it didn’t. It took almost two years of being worn thin before I realised what was happening. In fact, it’s only in hindsight that I’m able to pinpoint exactly what I was feeling. All I knew at the time was that I was tired, and I had to get away.

So, I did. Over the course of Year 11, I slowly distanced myself from R. I decided not to continue with the band that school year, giving some sloppy, half-true excuse of having to study for the IGCSE exams. I started to hang out more with people who appreciated my heritage, most of whom I’m still in contact with till this day. With them, I shared my culture and they shared theirs with me. I was fascinated with how different, but still similar, we were. R and I were still in the same class, and of course, we would still see each other in school every day. But I didn’t care. I stopped caring. I stopped caring what she thought, I stopped caring what anyone thought. I didn’t care if my Singaporean accent slipped out while giving a presentation, I didn’t care if it seemed “uncool” to try hard in Chinese class, and I certainly didn’t care about anyone’s opinions towards my food. By the time it got to Year 12, we pretty much belonged to different social circles, only interacting during class. Year 13 was a whirlwind preparing for the IB exams, with barely any time left for socialising anyway.

Then we graduated.

Ever since then, we haven’t really kept in contact, save for the occasional “Happy Birthday!” or reply to an Instagram Story post. Very honestly, I do wish I’d done things differently. To this day, I still feel like it was a shame to let the friendship fizzle out like that. We did make some precious memories together, ones that I’ll look back upon and think, “Wow, what I’d give to be a young teenager doing crazy, cringy shit again.”

But most of all, I wish that I’d sat R down and told her that she was being, for lack of a better word, racist. That her microaggressions, despite not targeting me specifically, harmed me in ways that she couldn’t even begin to imagine. But unfortunately, I didn’t. 17-year-old me was very non-confrontational, and I didn’t give her the chance to learn from her mistakes. Despite that, I do hope that after all these years, she has had some semblance of a realisation. Even if she hasn’t, I want to thank her. I want to thank her for allowing me to learn my worth. Have I completely walked out of those few years of internalised racism? The short answer is no. But without her, I would have never learnt to treasure my heritage and be as proud of it as I am now. She taught me resilience, to hold on to my values no matter what, and for that, I thank her.

#a little story about finally understanding my identity #not that i don't still struggle with it #but i'm figuring it out step by step

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vvatchword · 1 year

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In today's venture into old media, I'm watching Objective, Burma! with Errol Flynn.

I'm fascinated by media about world-changing events produced during said world-changing events. I feel like there's something special there--you're seeing the real technology, techniques, mannerisms, art, language, social norms, and belief systems of the culture experiencing that event in a tiny window of time. It's not a memory, it's current events. It's fresh. It's being produced by people who are experiencing it firsthand for other people experiencing it firsthand. Yes, it's propaganda, but even its worst traits are little clues to a specific moment (case in point: the all-American credits thank the Chinese army). It's like how the city of Pompeii is special because it's a single day flash-frozen. There's something to be said about the preservation of teensy-tinsy details that would otherwise be lost in the sheer obliterating wave of human history.

There's something oddly compelling about Objective, Burma. Why have i never heard about it before? I guess it's technically not anything special. I haven't seen enough WW2 films to compare, let's be honest (i had just idly watched one with Flynn and Ronald Reagan, and that one was very ehhhhh). The racism is rough, but i mean... that's all old war movies rofl. And at least it gives you context for the racism. If you don't have a lot of experience outside your culture, you don't know any Japanese people, and your only exposure is through their torture of your war buddies, you might turn into a vile racist too. (That said, the white enemies are definitely treated kinder in all the world war films i watched today. And i watched like, four. Passively. It was both Errol Flynn and Dumb Data Collection day.)

Also, I'm honestly not sure if anyone in Operation actually knew how to speak Japanese? This was during Japanese internment so I'd bet good money they didn't have m/any Japanese actors in California. My Japanese is terrible so take this with a grain of salt but I'm pretty sure there was some made-up nonsense going on, especially in the beginning, where the language was something more akin to random sounds thrown together in a blender.

Anyway.

There are some great shots here: flashbangs lighting up swathes of darkness only to reveal a hill swarming with enemy soldiers; legs still kitted in boots and camo lying quietly in a straight line on a veranda, untouched, but indicative of dehumanizing violence; Flynn and a fellow soldier framed in a bright square of light, staring into a void, as they converse with a dying comrade.

And the shots of military procedure and technology--characters waving each other forward as they race from cover to cover; the collection of dog tags knotted up in a man's fist; planes scooping other planes up off the ground using cables and hooks to make up for the lack of runways. The procedures of soldiers in the wild--burying supplies, digging holes for sleep, setting booby traps. Interesting, too, how the soldiers responded to planes--when they didn't need to contact their own, they'd hide the minute they heard one. Naturally, the film extolled faith in higher-ups--following orders even when the end result seems pointless.

My favorite shots were of warplanes just diving straight into the earth, plowing through vegetation, complete with cockpit shots of the pilots bouncing in their seats. Just plane after plane smashing into the earth like they didn't give a fuck and i was like YES,,,,

Also, smoke pouring off of a machine gun barrel. I liked that a lot. I love imagining a scene in its entirety--sound, smell, pressure, light, texture. I just insert myself sometimes.

But the element that ended up sticking to me was the loss of identity for the good of--who knows whom.

"Who were you before?"

"An architect."

Because whatever you were, you aren't that now. Whatever you were may never come into play here at all. Whatever you were, whatever you knew, whatever you're like, whatever efforts and education you've gained, is not as important as the use of your body and the destruction of someone else's. You have been reduced to servitude and dumb bestiality.

One of the creepiest aspects of the military, too, is how they stress uniformity: if you're the nail sticking up, they will hammer you down.

So you're an architect. The gods don't give a shit as long as you can bleed.

I can't stress enough how enormous the world wars were for everyone. What they meant in terms of loss and transformation and what kinds of people and societies they birthed. I keep being struck by the reverberations of those wars--not to mention all the side tragedies, like the Rape of Nanking, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, and the Bolshevik Revolution--creating and uplifting irrevocably damaged people who only repeat those tragedies once they are granted power.

Not for the first time, i started thinking about how all of these ordinary little characters in Operation, Burma who would far rather be doing literally anything else--on every side imaginable, from the Burmese civilians to the Japanese soldiers themselves--have been co-opted into someone else's game, how they're being called upon to die and be destroyed, but for what end? Who knows? Remove their faces. Remove their names. Remove their cultures. Smooth out what makes them individuals. In the cases of the fake Japanese actors, strip them of their language almost entirely.

War blotting people out--not only physically, but in media. War poisoning the human body, slowly extruding from only the most mature, only to inject new poisons into their children. Humans helplessly becoming tools and creating new ones of the people they love until someday the human race, staring its babies in the face, injects some poison so potent that it ends everything.

Anyway I'm doing fine how are you

#vvatchword #films #ww2

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markdevin232 · 2 years

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Meet Me in Mumbai - Kids Book Review

Following Ayesha's decision to give Mira up for adoption due to an unintended teen pregnancy, Meet Me in Mumbai is a novel in two acts that is narrated eighteen years apart. It offers voice to both the mother (Ayesha) and the daughter (Mira). Also, grab children's fantasy adventure books by Tom Lamia to develop a love for reading among your kids.

The fact that the book does not shy away from discussing racism and other prejudice-related issues made our reviewers appreciate it and made them think about the diverse society we live in.

I decided to write this review in two sections because the book is divided into two half.

Part 1: Ayesha. First of all, the book is easy to read thanks to its brief chapters; you never find yourself eagerly anticipating their conclusion. Since you can actually empathise with the characters and understand their feelings, I really felt horrible for Ayesha. There are significant celebration of culture aspects in addition to the primary plot. Food plays a significant role in this section of the book because it helps Ayesha feel connected to her home and family. By connecting smells and tastes to specific locations, the reader may better understand the differences between India and the USA. I also thought it was great that the baby would go to a lesbian couple. Overall, I thought the book was honest about themes like racism and discrimination.

Part 2: Mira: I felt the second half of the book to be somewhat different. I observed how frequently chapters jumped about in time. I had to occasionally reread paragraphs to make sure I understood because I was so confused. The portion does, however, address racism, and I thought it was commendable and quite attractive. Although the main character, Mira, does indeed live in ignorance, I was nevertheless able to identify with her and experience her feelings as a reader. Though I like the story and the emotional depth it contained, I found the first section to be simpler to read overall.

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finishinglinepress · 2 years

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NEW FROM FINISHING LINE PRESS: Death of an Unvirtuous Womanby Suzanne Ondrus

PREORDER NOW: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/death-of-an-unvirtuous-woman-by-suzanne-ondrus/

RESERVE YOUR COPY TODAY

Poems on the 1881 murder of German Ohio immigrant Mary Bach by her husband Carl Bach and a look at media, gender, and economic pressures.

Suzanne Ondrus‘ work explores gender issues, racism, cultures, and women’s sexuality. Her first book, Passion Seeds, won the 2013 Vernice Quebodeaux Pathways Poetry Prize for Women. She was the 2013 Reed Magazine Markham Poetry Prize winner, a 2017 UNESCO World Book Capital featured poet in Guinea, Conakry, and a 2018-2020 Fulbright Scholar to Burkina Faso, West Africa. She holds a Ph.D. from the University of Connecticut, an M.F.A. from Bowling Green State University (OH), and an M.A. from Binghamton University. Check out her YouTube channel Suzanne Ondrus, follow her on Twitter: SuzanneOndrus, and find updates on suzanneondrus.com.

ADVANCE PRAISE FOR Death of an Unvirtuous Woman by Suzanne Ondrus

To read or hear Suzanne Ondrus’s word wizardry granted balladry is to confront a problem as old as Genesis: How does a woman claim her Libertydespite all the law books and their patriarchal, rule-of-thumb malarkey, all the biblical libel against her Sex, and all the he-man chest-thumping? And what is her peril if she does? After all, the most radical phrase in anylanguage is, “I am a free woman.” Death of an Unvirtuous Woman, narrating the saga of the rebel Mary Bach and her murderous hubby, Carl, though set in 1881 Ohio, is as relevant as today’s headlines—around the world. Certainly, every woman who refuses to be a man’s chattel is a pioneer of Liberty! And what can he do to try to stop her? His miserable Authority must get his hands round the throat of that “sadistic” mouth! He must grouch and crunch, mulch and munch, and grunt like thunder, his dander up, to take a white weapon to his wife, her inimitable throat. He cannot touch her as lightly as falling leaves. Suzanne Ondrus’s accessible, plain-spoken, honest, and convincing poetry will horrify you with a story of murder and execution, but thrill you with the fact that even domestic spaces are not immune to American “revolution”: “I can smell the air / enticing seeds to burst. / I can see the big sky / screaming opportunity and big yields. // I can feel the money / pushing up all around me / like a field of wheat ready to harvest.”

–George Elliott Clarke, 7th Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada (2016-2017)

In Death of an Unvirtuous Woman, Ondrus achieves that which news accounts fail time and time to do: she captures the complexity and multiplicity of the lives cut short by violence, outside of a two-dimensional portrayal of victim and killer. Why else do we as a society cling to artifacts if not to remember, to be reminded, of the lives they represent? Ondrus has sat with the artifacts of Mary Elizabeth Bach’s too-long forgotten case and listened. The result is a collage of voices, angles, and perspectives.

–Abigail Chabitnoy, Writer, Educator, Printmaker, she/her/hers

In the words of science writer Gerard Schroeder, “The probabilistic nature of nature, the spread in possible outcomes, means we cannot reconstruct the exact past from the present.” And yet, with taunting songs, quips and quotes from newspapers, and poem after poem driving the stake in, Ondrus challenges that assertion with the exactness of the time’s arrow of the poet: these poems fly straight back into the gruesome murder of Mary Bach (whose physical death at the hands of her husband was underscored by her spiritual murder by the members of her community), and startle us with a warning for the now—can we “see” the people we are killing with slander today, or will we have to wait another century to be exposed? Ondrus injects dignity into the murdered woman, and moral alarm into readers of this collection: three adjectives, and a life is depreciated—a woman, silenced into meat.

–Larissa Szporluk, author of Virginals

Mary Bach’s three severed fingers were a grim display at the history museum in Wood County, Ohio. I always felt the woman seemed doubly betrayed — first slashed dead by her husband and then suffering the century-long indignity of having her body parts deemed an exhibition, Finally, in Suzanne Ondrus’s Death of an Unvirtuous Woman, she is given representation that she lacked in life. Of the fingers, Ondrus writes, “They have worked beyond their years, / beyond their marrow,” but she observes that they shout a message from their museum case to other women in danger: “Take your life and run,” they say while pointing toward any exit. Ondrus breathes life back into Mary Bach with her loving attention and her well-honed poetic craft.

–Karen Craigo, author of Passing Through Humansville (2018) and No More Milk (2016), both from Sundress Publications, and 2019-2021 Poet Laureate of Missouri

Please share/please repost [PROMO] #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry

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marabrosca · 3 years

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[REUPLOAD] - What You Seek Will Find You (Cullen x Lavellan)

a commission for @cullenvhenan with her OC immy

words: 3k

summary: Cullen reflects on his heart's desires, and comes to the one thing he wants the most. (Cullen’s pov fic and his falling in love with Imryll Lavellan)

tags: pining, soft, romance, kissing

warning: contains mentions of racism/colorism but is never directly said to any poc

Read it on AO3

It was uncomfortable to see a chantry half full, Cullen decided. He couldn’t remember a time where he and his family would attend a sermon, and be joined by only a dozen people. The chantry in his youth accommodated with every seat and then some, as many late arrivals would continue to listen to the Revered Mother’s litany whilst standing in the back by the front door. Having the room be so scarce, having so many pews be empty, made the ceremony feel far more serious and intimidating than intended.

It was here that Cullen would be fulfilling his dream of joining the Templar Order, taking his vows and swearing to protect Thedas at the behest of the Andraste Herself. He peered over at the towering statue of the prophet, Her pyre burning brightly but expanding no more light into the room than a few candles. He felt himself shrink into his armor, picking nervously at his embroidered skirt as Andraste’s stone eyes bore into him. It was a dull service he had to admit. A withered old chantry Sister recited the Chant Of Light in an almost monotone voice, pausing every few lines to include the sacred blessings given to those joining the Order.

Cullen had practiced his vows more times than he could count. There were formal promises to make, but they came strictly with a list. When he had been given the list, the scroll lay heavy in his hands. The gold ribbon around it had made it seem as resplendent as the Chantry’s interior, and no less important than the impression it made. Each Templar was to choose their own vows, their own honest promises to the Maker.

Everyone is different, and we are all here for different reasons. But now we join as one, and must do what is expected of us. Therefore, it is the responsibility of one who chooses to walk the path of sacrifice, to pave the road they walk on.

It was something that was repeated to him in the upcoming weeks of the ceremony. There were many ways, as it turned out, to prove one’s faithfulness to the Maker. There was fasting, sacrificing of material goods (not that Templars had many personal items to begin with), excessive prayer, public preaching, and at least ten other things that Cullen could remember. There was only one that gave him pause: chastity, and the detachment to romantic relations, even within marriage. Cullen felt weak for admitting it, but the idea of a future in solitude wasn’t exactly appealing. Not that it was supposed to be. The idea was that a Templar-to-be would set aside personal desire and focus solely on duty, devoting themselves entirely to their service.

But Cullen saw no reason why he couldn’t do both. A part of him, a part he hid from others, was enamored with the idea of marriage. He’d caught himself many times dreaming of the day his soul-mate would enter his life, accepting the promise to live in each other’s hearts. It was indulgent and juvenile, but he wondered if perhaps one day he’d be in chantry taking entirely different vows than the ones he would proclaim that day. As far as Cullen could see, there were no obstacles in finding someone who was Andrastian. They’d have to be, wouldn’t they? Followers of the chantry and the Maker filled every space in Ferelden, and certainly he wouldn’t be traveling far from Kinloch Hold after the ceremony. Frankly, there was no reason to worry.

The young man heard his name and he stood, almost too quickly, and shuffled out of the pew, making his way to the Revered Mother. She looked at him with a kind smile, and he bowed his head in response. The woman’s hand hovered above him, pausing.

“Have you prepared your promises to the Maker, accepting His blessing as a holy child and servant of Andraste?” “Yes.” He replied firmly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Decades had passed since that day, disappearing like a dream interrupted by daylight. At no point would Cullen expect anything he had experienced, or where he was now. Snow crunched under his boots as he surveyed twenty new recruits to the Inquisitor’s forces- the DalishInquisitor – yet they served just as devout to the chantry as he had once been. An uncomfortable, heavy force weighed on him at the thought; a reminder of his skewed mind from the past. It was a part of him he didn’t want to forget, so that he would never become that man again. He didn’t, however, want it to swallow him whole. That part was harder.

Two of the newest recruits, George and Elliott, were sent to fetch a requisition officer that had been surveying the Storm Coast for some time. The men seemed eager, and promising, and gave off an air of charisma that delivered a boost in morale. Soon enough they returned with the aforementioned officer. She was a tall, lanky elf with pale skin and large, striking emerald eyes. Her black hair fell to her mid-back, lips pink and puffy in the cold. Cullen greeted her politely, taking the missives from her hands as she smiled pleasantly at him. The officer followed Cullen to the desk planked beside the staircase extending from the ramparts. He didn’t miss the almost pungent smell of perfume on her, but made no comment. The commander settled the forms into a neat pile, getting ready to turn to his scouts, when he looked up and noticed that she was still standing there. He cleared his throat when she did not have anything to say. “Thank you, Deanna, for going out of your way.”

“No problem at all, Commander.” The elf smiled at him, folding her hands behind her back.

“Ah…was there something else you needed?” Deanna twirled a finger through a lock of hair, her cheeks turning pinker than before.

“Actually, I was wondering if you were busy tonight.” She replied, eyeing the desk quickly before settling her sights on his face. George and Elliott watched the sight, impressed with their Commander’s obliviousness to her body language.

“As it happens, I am very busy tonight,” Cullen answered, turning and handing the papers over to a scout without pause. “There is still much work to be done if Skyhold is to ever be inhabitable. And I fear the most difficult challenges are yet to come. Why? Does something require my attention?” Deanna’s smile sunk to her knees with her shoulders following suit. “Um, no, it was nothing. Thank for your time, Commander.” “And you, as well.” Cullen responded with a nod, watching the elf turn and make her way up the stairs.

As busy as the ex-Templar seemed to be, he had set some time aside that evening to have a walk down the ramparts with Inquisitor Imryll. Soon the easy stride had turned to a pause, then to a conversation, then to a kiss. It was clearly unplanned and unexpected- quite the opposite of how Cullen had always carried himself- but there was no doubt in the way Imryll held onto his back and caressed his hair, that she didn’t object to it.

Gossip spread like the Blight within Skyhold regarding the Inquisitor’s supposed “dalliance” with the Commander. A couple of messengers and guards that had been making their way by wasted no time sharing the tale of what they had witnessed, or exaggerating it.

“It was a sweep of passion! He grabbed her and they nearly dipped as if they were dancing!” “I wasn’t that close, so I couldn’t really tell, but Ser Rutherford appeared very harsh with our Lady Inquisitor. Do you think he treats all his women that way?” “She hypnotized him with blood magic, I swear!” The only things the tales had in common was that a kiss was involved, anything else could not be answered, much to the disappointment of the staff who were almost growing bored of the mundane. When the news reached Elliott, he was quick to share what he heard over a drink on the grass with George, who turned his nose up in disgust. “See that, I just don’t get.” “What’s not to get? You don’t know what a kiss is? Do you revolt women that much?” “No, smartass.” George took a swig from his flask before continuing. “I don’t get how someone would, ya know, go for an elf. Does he seem like the type? And that elf on top of it- what’s next, a Qunari?”

Elliott let out a cackling laugh, almost catching his lip between his browning teeth. “Not your type, eh?” “Not anybody’s type.” George tried to adjust himself on the ground, reaffirming his seat in the same spot once the dizziness ceased his actions. “At least you got- at least you got some lookers here, right? Like that one from before…that, uh, Deanna. Them ones with the big eyes and the curves and all- and have you ever seen an elf that was so dark?” “Not before the Inquisitor. Her eyes are black, did you notice? Do you think she’s blind?” “I thought all elves were ivory and lanky and- where did she even come from?” “Somewhere up north.” “Up north, bah.” George, not heeding the warning his body gave him before, took another large gulp. “If you asked me, I’d kiss an ogre any day before I’d even think about kissin’ her. She wouldn’t-”

Before he could finish his ramblings, a pair of hands grabbed them both from behind, lifting them by the collars and onto their feet. George almost vomited, feeling the searing burn shoot up his throat at the assault. Both men turned sharply to be met with the fiery eyes of their Commander. The men could feel their faces turn numb and a pulse beat in the back of their skulls. Elliott dropped his mug without thinking, licking his lips in an attempt to speak.

“Commander-”

“I don’t want to hear another word.” “But-” “Not. One. Word.” Cullen’s teeth stuck out starkly against his reddening face.

The recruits gulped, bugged-eyed as George swayed slightly from the alcohol. Cullen’s gaze locked onto the mug spilling yellow liquid onto the grass. “I see that your night of leisure has given you loose tongues.”

Cullen pondered what kind of punishment should bestow them. Perhaps they were to be bound and brought to the Inquisitor on her throne, and beg at her feet for mercy after confessing their crimes? The idea was enticing, but it was likely the display would embarrass Imryll, and he needn’t put more on her shoulders regarding her reputation. Besides, she hadn’t heard the words herself, so why hurt her feelings? No, that simply wouldn’t do. They needed to learn a lesson…a long-term lesson. Without warning Cullen grabbed them by the collar again and pushed them both face-first into the dirt. “You will clean this mess, and then pack your things. At dawn, you will be deployed to the Hissing Wastes, where you will remain until the hole in the sky is welded shut.” The Hissing Wastes was the most miserable landscape in Thedas Imryll had ventured to that he could think of. It was a constant scorching mass of dry air and sand, flipping the coin completely when all was frozen over at night. Only the most hardened travelers could tolerate its climate. It was a long-lasting punishment for a crime that could permanently scar having landed in Imryll’s ears.

Without another word Cullen turned on his heel and walked back to the fortress, ignoring the groaning coming from behind him. As he moved out of sight, Elliott wobbled down to pick his mug off the ground, and George let go of all the liquid courage in his stomach that had sealed their fates.

Days had passed since the new blood of the Inquisition seemingly vanished overnight, but Cullen’s hands still upturned into fists at the memory. He hadn’t been there when they were carted off, but it was reported right before that they wished to beg forgiveness. Cullen dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand and went back to his business like he was the only one in the room. He scowled, eyeing the ground with intensity as not to scream, a look that caught the eye of the curly-haired elf standing across from him. She walked up to him before he could react, kissing the knot between his eyebrows. All at once he melted, tense muscles going loose for a brief moment as he looked up. Her smile was concerned, and he felt his face relaxing as not to worry her further. “Are you alright?” she asked, grazing the back of her fingers along the side of his face, leaving goose bumps in her wake.

“Yes…I’m fine.” He let out a breath, willing himself to calm down. His hand reached up to grasp hers, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. It made them both blush, and Imryll’s fingers curled in his grasp.

“I had been wondering this for a while,” she started, not pulling away from his hold.

“That day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?”

Cullen couldn’t help but let out a laugh, smiling despite the heat in his cheeks. Her tone wasn’t mischievous, merely curious. A part of him advised against telling her; it was unprofessional at the very least to admit that he had wanted his lips on hers not too long after meeting, before Skyhold, even. Despite not being the best of friends at the time, Cullen found himself gravitating towards her, and desired her approval for more than just reasons regarding their duty.

He smiled sheepishly before finally answering her query.

“Longer than I should admit.”

Springtime scarcely differed from winter when it came to living on a mountain. Everyone still wore furs up to their noses and the courtyard was rarely full. Merchant deliverers unloaded their cargo as quickly as they could before ducking into the tavern. Orlesian noblewomen paraded their flower-adorned shifts about, calling attention to their “eye to detail”, modeling their appearance after the Skyhold garden. This, in reality, was meant to turn attention away from their unseemly reddening noses each time they needed to lift their mask and cough into a handkerchief.

Despite this -and despite her own hatred for the cold- Imryll could still be found tending to her plants- the ones that would survive the elements. She frowned as she lifted a limp stem with her finger, disappointed she wouldn’t be able to expand her alchemy skills just yet. Vivienne had warned her it was too early to start studying potions that required foliage, but in an effort to impress her, Imryll had tried it anyway. And now she was thinking of a way to dispose of the dead roots without embarrassing herself.

The sound of familiar footsteps behind her turned her attention away from the frozen soil, lifting her mood in an instant. “There you are. I was worried you’d still be out here.” Cullen sighed.

“Oh, yes. I was seeing how things were going,” she replied, gesturing to the frozen soil “Don’t tell Vivienne.” Cullen chuckled and removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch cold out here.” His touched his forehead with hers, watching as she scrunched her nose at the tickle of the wind.

“Walk me back?” Imryll guided them the long way around, entwining her arm with Cullen’s. Halfway there her legs had “gone completely numb from the cold”, and their only solution was to duck into an archway that housed a small stone bench. The elf laid her cheek on the part of his armor still covered by cloth, and sighed as his fingers glided down her arm.

“Feeling better?” “Not yet,” she replied, moving ever closer into his arms. Cullen held her tighter, making the Inquisitor smile. Her soft, round cheek was squished up against his chest, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. The atmosphere was too serene to believe. The moon now overshadowed the sun, leaving the walkway empty aside from them. Imryll gazed out at the greenery that still grew around them. But Cullen’s eyes were transfixed on her. In these escaping moments of peace, he found himself wondering what he would do in the future. If she survived- when she survived the impending battle with Corypheus- what would he do? He had been only a child the last time he lead a normal life, even though nothing for him would be truly normal again. Would she go with him? Would she go back to her clan? His stomach coiled at the thought, as selfish as it was. He wouldn’t blame her for returning to her people when this was all over, but surly he could not join her. The Dalish didn’t welcome humans as passersby, let alone a human lover. What if she left him? Did she not feel as strongly about their relationship as he did? Would she have to choose?

And more importantly, how would he declare the choice he’s made?

He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Despite the hardships and horrors he’s endured, having Imryll walk out of his life would be the breaking point. His gaze solemnly drifted to the bare blackness of the sky, subconsciously tightening his grip on Imryll.

“Cullen? Is something wrong?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Oh- I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” “No…” the Inquisitor waited for an answer to her question.

“I think we should go back inside. I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable with warm tea in your bed, wouldn’t you say?” Imryll perked up at the thought and reluctantly sat up to stretch.

“Will you be joining me?” Imryll asked over her shoulder, half flirtatiously. “If my lady wishes so.” Cullen responded, chuckling and standing to join her on the walk back to her quarters.

“I do. But is that what you want?”

What I want… Without warning the commander hoisted her up into his arms, leaning his head down to kiss her lips. She let out a yelp before laughing, slapping lightly at his chest as he carried her through the garden. Wind brushed roughly against the pathway flowers, sending a few white petals into the air, catching onto Imryll’s curls. Their white littered the stone, creating an almost snowy effect as he walked. They went unnoticed by Imryll, who was too distracted reaching up to playfully peck at her lover’s chin.

What he wanted…

He knew now more than ever.

Imryll had taken some time to teach Cullen threads of Dalish before, but nothing like this.

“Sylaise enaste var aravel…”

The sound of her native tongue caressed his ears. Everything in that moment disappeared except for her; and although he couldn’t understand the words, he felt them in his heart. He wanted her promise to be true, and he trusted that it was.

“I swear unto the Maker and The Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days.”

As the words left his lips, they connected with hers. Perhaps he should have waited until Mother Giselle made the official decree, but he couldn’t wait another moment.

The kiss ended with the faint tickle of Cullen’s breath against her lips. His nose stayed atop hers, soft chestnut eyes barely open beneath his lashes. It was their first kiss as a married couple, a term they could barely comprehend. Cullen sighed blissfully, capturing the moment in his mind down to every detail as the setting sun painted them in golden light, as if the world turned just for them. Imryll’s skin blended with the rays. Her eyes reflected, but were not illuminated by the shine, creating a stark clear surrounding of white around the onyx that seduced him so many times.

Imryll took but a single step before she was whisked off her feet. A surprised yelp quickly turned to giggles as her husband hoisted her into his arms in a true bridal-fashion. Mushy bounced excitedly at Cullen’s feet and wagged his tail, attempting to angle himself so that he could leap up to join Imryll.

“Blasted-get down! I can’t hold the both of you.”

Imryll laughed joyously, taking her lover’s face into her hands.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Cullen smiled down at her.

“Longer than I should admit.”

#cullen x lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullen x imryll #my fics #asian inquisitor #asian lavellan #reupload #i think the original post is still up on ela's blog but the search bar is trash :T #dai #Imryll Lavellan

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cursestothemoon · 3 years

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Lmao I’m so stupid, it’s supposed to be wash day lol. As a black girl I like to imagine the reactions to wash day. Especially the weasleys

don't worry about it! i’d love to write this

also im going to be combining it with another ask i got

omg hey shawty uhh... gained up the courage to request sumn else for you :>

its a bit stupid but NSJSJDJSJSB but could you do something like fred weasley with a black gorl or sumn-- and if you need a house then hufflepuff pls :>

alright we’re doing ALL THE WEASLEYS with a black girl and what wash day would look like with them around

and just a usual disclaimer: i am white 😌

Bill Weasley

first off i like to think you guys met after Hogwarts

idk why it just makes sense

let me tell you BILL WEASLEY loves when your hair is in braids

pLEASE

all kinds of braids

he loves it so much

he thinks its so beautiful

he also thinks youre always beautiful duh 🙄

but something about braids he just ❤️👄❤️

ok Bill Weasley during wash day is so fantastic

because he will sit with you

and watch you

and try so hard to learn your routine and steps

and when you ask why he’ll hit you with

“When we have kids I’ll need to know how to take care of their beautiful hair 🙄”

and he says it so naturally

he will also help with detangling

gOD

could you imagine just sitting with him, your back to his chest

both of you are detangling your hair

🥺

Charlie Weasley

ok so Charlie

i love Charlie so much

anyway

YOU ARE LITERALLY HIS GODDESS

HE WILL WORSHIP YOU

HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH

THIS IS SUCH A POWER COUPLE I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH

i don’t think Charlie has any one style he prefers over another

he will loses his mind over however you wear your hair

wash days with Charlie are so cute

he will make sure he sets aside his whole day to be with you during wash day

i think he’d just like to keep you company

even if you’d want his help detangling or anything else

if not thats cool to its your hair babe your rules

he’d rather just sit with you and talk

i also imagine Charlie Weasley as a very large man

big

i think i’ve said this before but Henry Cavill

Henry Cavill but ginger

and he doesn't want to hurt you

but he still knows your routine by heart

sTOP CAN YOU JUST IMAGINE GOING THROUGH WASH DAY

YOU ARE ALMOST DONE TWISTING YOUR HAIR WITH THE LEAVE IN CONDITIONER

and Charlie is just watching you with the stupidest smile on his face because he just loves you so much

Percy Weasley

i know ive said this before

but literally caNNOT CONNECT TO PERCY

LITERALLY WHO IS PERCY WEASLEY

WHAT IS PERCY WEASLEY

W H Y IS PERCY WEASLEY

ok so

i feel like percy, as a very political person, would be very into black history and learning all about it

percy weasley goes to protests.

especially after the war when he had the whole moment of realization with the ministry

the thought of racism literally boils this mans bloOD

im not saying the other weasleys don't care, they do very much so, but I can see Percy being just super involved

like Charlie I don’t think he’d have a favorite hair style on you

thats actually a lie

twists or locks will make him weak in the knees

alsO THE HISTORY AND MEANING BEHIND CERTAIN STYLES HE LOVES TO LEARN ABOUT

ok wash days with ole’ perce

will sit with you and read

likes to keep you company

but also he’s a busy guy so hes doing something for work

or just reading

pERCY KNITS

im sorry but he does and he knits while you go through your wash day routine

George Weasley

George Weasley.

honestly im gonna start yelling again

THIS COUPLE

GOD TIER

THERE IS LITERALLY NO REASON FOR YOU GUYS TO BE SUCH ✨BADDIES✨ TOGETHER ✋🏻

George Weasley will go to BLACK OWNED SALONS AND HAIR STYLISTS to learn how to do a few styles

just have it under his belt

just in case

and he won’t even do it as a “look what i did 😏”

no you won’t even know until one day it like comes up

and he’s like yeah why wouldn’t i

he is also very invested in black history

wash days with Georgie are so much fun

he’s bouncing around

has music playing

is asking you questions

you guys are just having so much fun

he will also take a day off work if it lands on a day where he has to go into the shop

he loves being with you during wash days

he calls it ‘wash day bonding time’

hes a dork

Fred Weasley

you guys met in school

i just know it

also much like Bill

something about box braids really gets him going

he thinks they look SO GOOD

and one think Fred literally cannot wrap his mind around

something that grinDS HIS GEARS

cultural appropriation

if someone out in public is appropriating a culture he WILL say something

but only if he is sure its cultural appropriation

he just cANNOT STAND IT

and i think this is regardless of who is dating, its just something that genuinely irks him

ok we all know Fred is a giant ball of energy

and ANYTHING excites him

you could say you’re going to the grocery store

aND HE IS BUZZING AROUND BECAUSE SOMETHING IS HAPPENING AND THATS SO EXCITING

so wash day is the same

hes jumping around

hes excited

hes asking questions

he’s doing so much

he cannot sit still

he tries for the first ten or so minutes

but then he’s up

bringing snacks

feeding you snacks if you have hair product on your hands

fred would be dancing around

he would make it so much fun

little kisses here and there

he also has to smell every single product

every

single

one

he also remembers the products you use and pays attention to when their running bit low and will go buy you more

idk stan fred weasley or whatever ✋🏻🙄

Ron Weasley

alright

R O N

hes a lot like Charlie i think

aLSO RON LOVES YOUR NATURAL HAIR

the other weasleys do too

bUT RON LOVES IT SO MUCH

ANY HAIRSTYLE WITH YOUR NATURAL HAIR HE IS HERE FOR

ok wash days with Ron are so fun

he’s just gossiping

he tells you all the drama thats going on

this man can talk for hours and he can get so pETTY

so wash day is definitely gossip day

he will sit with snacks as he watches you

and talks about people at work

or people at Hogwarts

“bABE did you hear about who that Slytherin bloke is dating?”

he also likes to smell all the products

or asks what they do

it would be so wholesome

Ginny Weasley

OK GINNY

i love ginny so much

i think you guys met after school to be completely honest

early twenties

she has no favorite hair style on you she thinks you look beautiful regardless

like george she will learn how to do a few protective hairstyles

because she loves you so much and wants to understand as best she can and one of the ways she does that is learning about your hair, what to do, what not to do, and how to care for it

stop if you were ok with her practicing on you it would be so cute 🥺

but she doesn’t expect you to be ok with it, like she isnt going to be pushy about it

she is very much a believer that it is YOUR hair YOUR rules

like everyone should be.

wash day with Ginny is so much fun

she's smelling things

asking questions

writing down the routine

she is mesmerized

because your hair is so bEAUTIFUL

and she develops this new appreciation for black people (men, women, and non-binary- all of you babes) and their hair and the pride and care that goes into it

when your arms get tired because you’re holding them up for so long she’ll give you shoulder rubs 🥺

little kisses

and they are so random

she also enjoys feeding you snacks while you go through your routine

regardless of if you something in/on your hands or not

i am a ginny weasley siMP

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@georgeweasleysbabe

#george weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #bill weasley imagine #ron weasley imagine #Ginny Weasley imagine #charlie weasley imagine #percy weasley imagine

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