#tw racial violence mention
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I think what hbomberguy missed out on his video was the way James Somerton also dismissed ace people's oppression by claiming that they didn't 'go through conversion therapy' or apparently 'suffered as much as gay men'.
So here's a video I want to share by the Ace Couple going into depth about the whole thing and how James reacted when called out... spoilers, he didn't react well. I just hope by James' mistakes he and other people can learn something and grow.
youtube
#mentions of sa racial violence and acephobic + homophobic slurs in the video so be careful#they also go into depth about how they funded his movie projects and how they got fucked around basically#i think maybe hbomber missed this or maybe the video was too long already so no hate towards him at all#tw conversion therapy#tw aphobia#tw acephobia#lgbt+#lgbt#queer#asexual#tw harrassment#james somerton#hbomberguy#Youtube
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This episode of Andor depicted so many real life occurrences and did it so well that it almost hurts to watch. Pointing out just how real this type of oppressive action is to the point where it’s so frustrating that this stuff has happened in the first place and still happens every day.
This episode we learn that Cassian’s adoptive father’s name was Clem, explaining why Luthen gave him that code name. But this episode goes into more about the way his father was unjustly murdered.
Hanging is a recurring theme in this show, directed at the characters of color like Cassian and Lieutenant Gorn, and I do not think it’s on accident. Especially in the context of oppressive forces taking over. Cassian’s father was hanged. And truthfully, it was a lynching.
But for a black man to be (almost) shown being hanged, the implications of that with the history that black people have had, hit so close to home. It’s so pertinent. I don’t know if it was written that way with an black actor in mind. But to me, it’s important that they did that. Because it happened. Black people were lynched in America and left for days and weeks to serve as an example. And in some places, it’s still happening. There is heavy trauma in that.
And Cassian’s traumatic past haunts him the whole time he makes plans to leave Ferrix. Here he has his adoptive mother telling him that she was proud to hear about the rebel heist on Aldhani, that she doesn’t know he helped carry out using his father’s name. So proud that after avoiding it for years, she walked down the path to the square where Clem was hanged.
Cassian hears this and leaves. The flashback spurred on by his nearly crossing paths with stormtroopers. But the whole time he’s away on this warm beach planet, he’s on reasonably on edge. Then another familiar scene happens which often ends in death. He’s profiled again for looking “suspicious” and accused of several crimes he did not commit.
So many trips to the store have been cut short by instances like this. And he nearly loses his life due to the recklessness and carelessness of the shore trooper that stops him.
But it doesn’t even end there. Because of the empire retaliating against rebel action, he’s sentenced to prison for 6 YEARS when it would’ve originally been 6 months.
BOTH are too long for a crime you didn’t commit.
Just watching the trooper talk to him in circles made me angry. And that’s the point. We’ve seen it all too often. It’s very familiar and realistic and painful and overwhelming. But it needs to be highlighted. I’m glad that it’s being highlighted.
#even after writing all this I do not have the words#it’s heavy but I applaud the writing#andor#Cassian andor#andor series#andor show#Star Wars andor#andor spoilers#lieutenant gorn#tw: death#tw death mention#tw lynching#tw: death mention#tw murder#tw: murder#tw racial violence
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ECU High - Pacer's Bereavement
Pacer was still shaken up even days after he saw Vance's booth. The anniversary of "that day" is approaching. As much as his dad and his step brother try to support him, it just isn't the same.
It's now Labor Day and Pacer's trying to find a way to relax. After a few hours of laying around he looks at his phone. He realizes the only way he can feel better is to pick up his Nokia and send Clint a message.
"Can you come over to my house?"
He puts it down waiting for Clint to respond. After a few minutes he gets a reply.
"Sure. B right over."
Pacer sighs and lays back on his bed. He tries to think about what he could say to Clint when he visits. A few minutes later his dad comes in his room.
"Pacer your friend's here."
Pacer gets out of bed.
"Awright."
He walks downstairs and see's Clint waiting for him.
"Hey Pacer. Why'd ya wanna see me?"
Pacer takes a breath.
"I got something real important to show ya."
Clint's unfazed by this.
"Ok Pacer."
He follows Pacer all the way to the back yard.
"Wha's this?"
A piece of animal skin covered in beads wrapped around a wooden horse figurine rests beneath a pecan tree.
"Last year before we moved here from Oklahoma, my mother was murdered. We just couldn't stay in that house anymore. It's Kiowa tradition to move after a family member dies, but in this case it was a murder."
Clint's eyes widen.
"What?"
Pacer takes a deep breath.
"My mother being part of the Kiowa tribe of course had dark skin and hair like me. Our house was mistaken for someone else's so these government officials thought we were illegal immigrants. They raided the house and when my mother of course grabbed my dad's gun to protect herself they," he trails off.
Clint looks absolutely shocked. He understood exactly what Pacer implied.
"Pacer. Ah. Ah jus dunno what ta say."
Pacer rubs his face.
"Nothin ya can say. I just think that I can trust ya enough to share this. I don't expect ya to relate and I definitely don't want sympathy for it. This wasn't a tragic accident. This was a murder. Even if they did have the right house, they still would've killed her."
There's a pause.
"They called me a red-skinned indian and said she was nothing but a wagon burner. If wasn't for my dad coming back home," he trails off again and covers his face.
Clint can see that Pacer's caught up in his feelings.
"Ya know something, Clint. Sometimes I dream about my mother talking to me from the great beyond. That's always a bad thing."
"Why?"
Pacer's emotional and can barely contain himself.
"Death's the worst thing to happen for the Kiowa people. If someone who's sick starts to see their dead loved ones, it means they're going to die next. I've been seeing my dead mother just about every night and I just know I'm gonna die soon. I just know that somebody's gonna kill me just like they did her."
"Well tha's jus awful, Pacer. Ya shouldn't gotta worry bout gettin killed jus cause ya ain't white!"
Pacer rubs the tears from his eyes.
"I know that! I can't control what other people think about me! I know they pity me 'cause I'm a half-breed! That I'm never gonna be white like them! That I should be thankful my dad even wanted me!"
"Ah still wanna help, Pacer!"
Pacer calms down and sees that Clint means what he says. It isn't meant to be pity but genuine compassion.
"I know. I don't expect ya to solve this problem. You ain't ever gonna be able to bring my mother back. You're also too poor to donate to people who can help. If you really wanna help, just learn. Just learn what it is that we struggle with so that when ya do have enough money, you know how to spend it."
Clint says nothing and just listens.
"Well. Do ya need anythang now?"
Pacer takes deep breathes and tries to think. There's a long pause.
"Do ya have any money?"
Clint looks confused and looks in his wallet.
"Ah got bout 5 bucks. Why?"
Pacer looks in his own wallet.
"I feel like going to Whataburger. A burger sounds good right about now."
Clint's eyes widen.
"Oh Ah love Whataburger! Ah'mma call Ma now!"
Clint pulls out what can only be described as a hand me down pay as you go phone and makes the call as Pacer heads inside for a second.
"Dad, Clint and I are going to Whataburger."
Pacer's dad makes a sound of acknowledgement and Pacer goes back outside to get his bike.
"Ma said so long's Ah'm back by sunset Ah can go wit ya."
Pacer nods and the two boys bike down to the restaurant.
"Oh god Tulsa and Josh are here too."
Clint sees the two sitting at a bench outside.
"Ah know ya don't like 'em but they ain't wit 'em govment people. Ah think if they done knew bout wha happened ta yer mama they'd be jus as shocked as Ah was."
Pacer has a long sigh.
"Well ya hear Tulsa talk about the JROTC. He's about as bad as a Jehovah's Witness. Ya know he's Cherokee right?"
Clint thinks.
"No Ah didn't. Why's that matter?"
Pacer rubs his eyes.
"He's got this Native name like he's part of the tribe but he ain't. He don't know what it's like to be called a wagon burner. He don't know what it's like to called a beaner because someone thought I was Mexican. He don't know any of that."
Clint says nothing knowing he never went through what Pacer did.
"I know he didn't pick his name, but for him to say he's Native American when he's about as white as he can be is an insult. He isn't part of the Cherokee tribe and he doesn't know about his people's culture. He's just a white boy with Native American ancestry. Just isn't the same."
Clint waits for Pacer to finish.
"Ah don't think he'd wanna say all that ta brag. Maybe he done knows jus how bad Native Americans was treated an that he ain't gonna be treated bad so he wants ta include it in his life."
Pacer looks at Clint. He knows Clint had a certain point despite not doing a good job of explaining it.
"My issue's that he's making like the government never did a thing wrong and everything the army did was amazing. Minorities are still be treated unfairly and he's ignorant for not realizing that."
Clint nods.
"Well. Maybe Tulsa'll learn all bout it an change his mind."
Pacer sighs.
"Maybe you're right."
There's an awkward silence.
"So didja join the gardnin club?"
Pacer looks at Clint.
"Yeah. I know it was your idea to make the club and Mr. Lightcloud's actually a pretty nice guy, so I joined up."
Clint smiles.
"Tha's great. Ah know Mr. Lightcloud from the 4-H club an," he trails off when he remembers the Native American outfits some of them would wear.
"Yeah Mr. Lightcloud told me about how he would teach kids about Native American history and the cultures of individual tribes. He's enrolled in the Navajo Nation and used to live in that region. I think I might be able to really feel accepted there."
Clint feels relieved.
"Oh well tha's good cause Ah got all scared ya was gonna find what we was doin in the 4-H club offensive. We was wearin all kinds a Native clothes an Ah dunno if tha's somethang ya think's not ok."
They head inside to order.
"Nah. Don't worry about it, Clint. Mr. Lightcloud loves to bring jewelry and other products Navajo women would sell. I don't have a problem with people who ain't Native American wanting to buy traditionally made items. So long as they buy it directly from the people of those tribes, I think it would be a sign of support."
Clint looks at the menu.
"Ah get it now. They're all small business owners so buyin it from 'em's a good thang cause yer helpin 'em make enough money ta live."
Pacer nods and starts to smile a little.
"Pacer. Did yer mama use ta sell thangs jus so yer family could make nough money?"
Pacer stops to think about it.
"My dad's always made enough to make it so we never went hungry. My mother used to make wooden figurines of animals more as a side business. She really liked the craft so whenever me or my step brother Clint had a birthday, she'd sell some to get enough money for gifts."
Clint still looks at the menu.
"Pacer. Kiowa people ain't got anythang they can't eat do they?"
Pacer pats Clint on the back.
"Nah. It ain't like we're Muslim or Jewish where we have all these rules. Traditionally, Native American tribes don't restrict themselves. Food was something you had to provide yourself so it's something where you would eat whatever you could find."
Clint nods. "So ya don't got any allergies neither?"
He shakes his head. "Nah. My mother never kept me or Clint from eating anything at restaurants. So long as we had a balanced meal, we could have a dessert just fine."
Clint gives Pacer a thumbs up and the two order their food. Pacer still feels sad about the upcoming anniversary of his mother's death, but for once he feels like he belongs. He actually considers Clint to be his friend and believes that things will get better.
AN: Thank you for the feedback @xanatenshi.
Tagging: @mercsandmonsters, @vintagepresley, @thetaoofzoe, @ashtag6887, @whitepontiac, @tupelomiss, @thedaisymaisy, @richardslady121, @arrolyn1114, @theelviseffect, @elvisbooty76, @just-another-boring-bisexual, @aliengoth3, @phil2135561, @gayforelvis, @ash-omalley, @eptodaytommorwforever, @wildhorseinkansas, @alienelvisobsession, @comebackep, @presley72elvis, @leopardandstuds, @ellie-24, @heart-of-ep, @thatbanditqueen, @saturnsatnin @be-my-ally, @mydarlingelvis, @myradiaz, @jaqueline19997, @louisejoy86, @peskybedtime, @lookingforrainbows, @your-nanas-house, @januarypresley1969, @justrae9903, @codalysssssworld, @joshuntildawn13, @briefpandatimemachine, @precious-lil-scoundrel, @sillybookmarks, @tacozebra051, @cattcb, @perfectpresley, @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s, @lett-them-eatt-cake @j-v-9-2, @almightybigbrain, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @miniaturerunawaykid, @msamarican, @all-hookedup-on-elvis, and @doll-elvis.
#tw mentions of death#tw racial violence#tw racsim#ecu high#elvis fanfic#elvis fanfiction#pacer burton
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Ta Tanisha Wesson, 24 (USA 1995)
Ta Tanisha Wesson underwent an abortion on January 26, 1995 at a facility that was a member of Family Planning Associates. FPA founder Edward Allred owned and personally supervised the facility that killed her. Allred was known for the 5-minute abortion, which was exactly as reckless and haphazardly rushed as it sounds.
Allred was not only widely known for his rushed abortions but for his racism. He was notorious for telling a newspaper in his interview, "When a sullen black woman of 17 or 18 can decide to have a baby and get welfare and food stamps and become a burden to all of us, it's time to stop. In parts of South Los Angeles having babies for welfare is the only industry these people have." He was also heavily biased towards immigrants from Mexico and stated that he wanted to open an abortion facility by the border to “stem the flow” of the Latina immigrant population. He was sued in 1970 for killing 16-year-old Patricia Chacon, whose parents stated that the institutionalized racism of Allred’s abortion corporation led to the substandard treatment of their daughter. But despite multiple lawsuits and the deaths of at least 10 FPA/Allred clients by the date of Ta Tanisha’s abortion, Allred and his corporation were still allowed to continue business as usual.
Ta Tanisha went in for her appointment on January 26, 1995. Her good friend Mickey Gaton came with her and sat in the waiting room for several hours. She wasn’t told that anything was happening with her friend, but then an ambulance pulled up outside.
Mickey investigated and was horrified to find out that Ta Tanisha was the one being loaded into the ambulance. She called Lin and Nicole Wesson (Ta Tanisha's parents), who rushed to the facility. The parents tried to find out why their daughter was dying, but the abortion facility refused to tell them anything about why Ta Tanisha, who had been perfectly fine the day before the abortion, was now in a coma.
Ta Tanisha never woke up. She died in the hospital on February 1, 1995– just a few days after she turned 24. It was finally discovered that the careless staff at the FPA facility had overdosed Ta Tanisha on anesthesia and then left her unsupervised, leaving her all alone to choke to death on her own vomit. The staff did not call an ambulance until 20 to 25 minutes later.
Her parents sued the abortion facility for killing their daughter. Ta Tanisha’s 5-year-old son David lost not only his sibling but his mother that day. As Susan Carpenter McMillan, spokesperson for the family, said, “All my words could never speak as eloquently as the expression on this little boy’s face who will never see his mother again.”
Some of the other Black victims of FPA include Chanelle Bryant, Nakia Jorden (16), Emmeko Reed, Kenniah Epps, Laniece Dorsey (17) and Deanna Bell (13). Out of at least 19 abortion clients killed by Allred’s abortion business, almost all were WOC. The FPA corporation is still in business today and in 2014, the exact same location that killed Ta Tanisha killed another Black woman, Kenniah Epps.
"California Death Index, 1940-1997," database, Entry for Tatanisha Wesson, 01 Feb 1995; Department of Public Health Services, Sacramento.
court records
Los Angeles Sentinel
#black lives matter#tw murder#tw racism#tw racism mention#tw racial violence#tw discrimination#tw abortion#tw ab*rtion#abortion debate#abortion#pro life#pro choice#unsafe yet legal#tw death
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Love the way America pretends to play Activist.
They say "all men all created equal" but slavery was still more than common.
They say "liberty and justice for all" while bombs are dropped and guns are fired across the oceans.
They say "inalienable rights" while people are beaten, raped, segregated, caged and assaulted at the border.
They say "under god" while claiming separation of church and state.
They say "all men are created equal" while natives are living on unprotected land, ripped up by industrialization, drinking, cooking with, bathing, and living with water so murky it looks like it was collected from a pond after rain, even while the government claims that it isn't happening.
"All men are created equal" unless they're anything other than a cisgender male, anything other than pure white, are anything other than upper middle class or rich, have any other views than puritan conservative Christian or anything other than purely neurotypical and able bodied.
#tw sa mention#tw sa#tw racial violence#tw religion#tw america#tw christianity#tw politics#tw poverty#tw power imbalance#tw assault#tw abuse#tw dark content#tw gun violence#tw white supremacy#tw war mention#tw truama#tw government#tw american politics
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Here's a fun fact: niggers commit over 90% of all crime despite being only 15% of the population. Now why would Catholics promote these APES and allow them to rape godly white women? Why does BLM and antifa receiving funding from the Catholic church and Israel? Why do Catholics support FETNYL George Floyd? The answer is obvious. Protestantism says no to DEGENERATE RACE MIXING and MARXIST NEGROS. I bet you're one of those spear chucking apes too. Huh Jiggabo? How's thst fried chicken nigger?
the Bible condemns racism y’know
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The Fire in The Sin
Chapter 4 - Terminally Dispelled
Word count: 4,205. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.
Summary: Mina's arrival in Hell. TW: canon typical violence and language. Use of a racial slur. Cannibalism. Mentions of opioid addiction.
Series Summary:
In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.
(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)
Chapter 4 - Terminally Dispelled
Part 2 – Terminally Dispelled
October 4th, 1917
Pentagram City
She was falling.
Falling . . .
Falling
F A L L I N G –
Mina opened her eyes and sat up, gasping for air.
She had jerked awake, having felt that familiar feeling of suddenly crashing in a dream at the very beginning stages of sleep, except this time it had taken much longer than usual for her body to respond to the surreal sensation of falling.
Only she wasn’t in her bed, which should have been expected. She was sitting on her hind end in a completely disheveled manner, on a street corner in a city she was sure she’d never seen before.
As everything came into focus around her, she looked on with rapidly growing horror.
There were buildings and a paved street like in any normal city but the carriages were being pulled by all manner of beast, none of which were natural. And even the creatures that were walking upright like humans were mutated monstrosities with very little human qualities about them.
She scrambled to her feet as one particularly large, scaled creature brought a carriage towards the corner she was occupying. She backed away without looking behind her until she was abruptly met with resistance.
“Hey, look where you’re going!” a deep voice rumbled and she turned around to see a towering, half-bear, half-man demon looming over her.
The scream that tore from her throat was feral and she took off, running blindly down the street. She was completely lost to her panic and every turn she made just exposed more horrors.
After what felt like a mile, she found what looked like an empty alleyway and collapsed with exhaustion. She clutched at her chest with one hand while the other pressed against the brick wall and fell to her knees.
It took her a minute to catch her breath but when she finally did she realized . . . she could breath. Really, properly breathe.
The hand that was against the wall let go and she pressed it to her temple instead.
She could think.
For the first time in two years, she wasn’t foggy from drugs and her lungs were clear rather than riddled with disease. She felt so alive. Only later would she reflect on this moment and laugh at the irony. Right now, she was just confused. How could she feel so clear headed and not remember how she got here or where “here” even was.
Mina closed her eyes and counted to ten, taking deep and calming breaths. When she opened her eyes again, she took in her surroundings without letting herself panic.
The first thing she examined were her hands.
She felt like herself, only healthy, but these were not the pale, delicate hands she knew to be her own. The skin was dark brown and her nails were far sharper and thicker than her own. At the nail beds they were a translucent shade of black but they turned into opaque talons as they extended out past the tips of her fingers. She pushed her sleeve up and found that oddly enough, the dark brown faded back into her usual Caucasian complexion at the elbows. Lifting her skirts, she saw the same transformation in skin color at her shin and kneecaps.
She had a pointed coloration to her now almost like . . . like a cat.
Mina touched at her face, desperate for a mirror, and hoped her face didn’t have similar markings. She was relieved to find no whiskers but as she explored further up, she felt what were undeniably ears. Two large, cat-like ears sat atop the crown of her head and the human ones she once loved to adorn with earrings were gone from behind her jawline.
Her fingers combed through her hair, which now felt much thicker than before and was a rich black instead of the strawberry blonde that had been a trademark of her Irish heritage.
There was an odd feeling, like an extension of her spine, that she could feel moving behind her, and she reached back and grabbed at it, jumping as her hand made contact.
A tail. She had a fucking tail coming out from a perfectly place hole in her skirts and it was very much attached to the base of her spine.
She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate again, so she forced herself to calm down before vertigo took hold of her.
What was the last thing she could remember?
The ocean.
A rainy day.
A voice . . .
Jonathan.
Blood.
He had stabbed her.
She had killed him.
The beach.
The rain.
The world was spinning . . .
The leopard.
Mina’s hand went to her neck as the memory became clearer. She could still feel it ripping her throat out and the odd lack of pain that came with it, just the strange feeling of release and then . . . falling.
She was dead.
It sounded outrageous to her own atheistic mind. She had denounced her family’s Catholic beliefs and everything that came with it years ago. She believed in no higher authority and certainly didn’t believe in an afterlife.
Well, the joke was on her now, because as it turned out, her little sister had been correct during their last conversation.
Mina had landed herself in Hell.
__
She wandered the streets for the rest of the late afternoon and well into the darkest hours of the evening. This city never seemed to sleep and there was no shortage of beasts out and about, though almost none of them took any notice of her. It would certainly seem that she belonged here as her own part-animal form was far from the most horrific she was witness to that night. In fact, it appeared she was downright ordinary looking to the residents of Hell, having kept at least the majority of her human appearance. Once, she had passed what appeared to be a human body with a mucous covered octopus for a head and she began to feel grateful at how well her soul had fared in the vanity department.
Eventually, she found herself away from what she guessed to be the city center or at least a bustling business district, and came upon some more residential areas.
And then blessedly, what looked to be a park.
Although most of the plant life was snarled and half-dead looking, there was the occasional blood red rose or deep black pansy. There was even a large lake, though it gave off a putrid, sulfuric smell. It was still by far the most pleasant and quiet place she had come across in hours of walking and she approached the lake, less put off by the smell than she would have thought.
The surface was like a black mirror and she saw her reflection for the first time and sighed with relief. Her face was still more or less her own. No changes in complexion or markings besides her eyes and teeth. Her dentition was exactly that of a cat, small, pointed incisors and dramatically larger canines. Even her back molars were serrated and deadly sharp. Gone were the bright blue eyes of her human years; replaced by the large eyes she had last looked upon before she had been devoured. Green and gold irises around large, vertical black pupils. She titled her head, watching her ears as they twitched in response to her consideration of her new look and found she was quite fine with the changes she could see.
Feeling like there wasn’t much else to do at this point but give into her exhaustion, Mina left the lakeside and found a bench and curled up in a fetal position, quickly falling asleep.
What passed for dawn in Hell came a few short hours later but the same strange red hue still lingered in the sky above. Mina guessed it was just the way the atmosphere looked and felt a pang of regret when she realized she would never see another clear blue seaside sky again.
Well, Hell wasn’t meant to be pleasant. She supposed it was fitting that the thing she had loved most about the living world would be taken from her here in this wretched place.
She sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes and realized she could hear birds singing.
Tiny black shapes darted around from the twisted tree branches above her bench. A couple of them landed on the ground near her and though they looked like horrible combinations of bird, bat, and scorpion, and were fighting over what appeared to be a human eye, she found their whistling song to be very pleasant; not unlike the sparrows that had lived in her hedge as a child.
Mina was cold, and starving, but she had nowhere to go and had no idea what to do about any of those issues, so she reclined back into her bench and began humming along with the Hellish bird song.
A couple walked past her, arm in arm. They were horrible to look at; the man had gills and gigantic webbed hands and the woman was dressed in a bloodied nurse’s gown with rotten flesh hanging from her face. But they smiled and laughed, clearly in love and enjoying their morning. The fish-man was holding a basket and it smelled heavenly to Mina’s hungry senses.
She hated them on site.
Perhaps it was a new instinct instilled into her demon form; like how a human baby simply knows to hold its breath under water. Or perhaps it was sheer luck, a coincidence that she had always found singing to herself to be a soothing act when one of her dark moods came upon her. Either way, the end result was the same.
Mina began singing and got a taste of what she was really capable of.
The Dawning of the Day was one of the few songs she knew how to sing completely in the native language of her homeland. Irish Gaelic wasn’t allowed to be spoken in her parents’ home, or at school, but her grandmother had done what she could to teach her and Mina had sung it as often as she could in her youth, mainly out of spite of her oppressive Catholic upbringing.
Maidin moch do ghabhas amach,
Ar bruachaibh Locha Léin;
An Samhradh ‘g teacht a’s an chraobh len’ ais,
Is lonrach te ón ngréin,
Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte poirt
Is bánta míne réidhe,
Cé do gheobhainn lem ais ach an chúileann deas,
Le fainne geal an lae.
As she sang, Mina kept her eyes on the couple, focusing all her envy on them. If only they would just drop that basket, she could at least satisfy her hunger. Clearly, they were easily able to obtain food of their own, where she was going to have to beg or steal if she wanted even scraps of a meal.
The man dropped the basket and carried on.
Mina stopped singing, watching in disbelieving shock.
Had she done that?
She wanted to run and grab the food before they noticed but didn’t want a confrontation in case she drew attention to herself. It would be two against one and she had no weapons on her.
If she had caused them to drop the food basket, maybe she could push it even farther and get rid of them all together.
She started singing again.
Ní raibh bróg ná stoca, caidhp ná clóc;
Arm o stóirin óg ón spéir,
Ach an folt fionn órga síos go troigh,
Ag fás go barr an fhéir.
Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic,
A’s ar dhrúcht ba dheas a scéimh,
Do rug barra gean ar Bhéineas dheas,
Le fainne geal an lae.
Although she hadn’t anything specific in mind, Mina focused her intention on the couple simply being gone and as soon as she had sung the first song, the couple turned from the path and headed directly for the lake.
It wasn’t exactly what she had in mind, but it was now clear to Mina that her song was affecting the couple. She continued with her verse as she watched in fascination as the couple waded into the water, blank stares on their faces, and the water began to steam around them.
The water was either acidic or hot, but either way, it was burning them, and yet they remained stone faced, continuing their decent into the lake.
Mina continued singing, even as the couple was submerged up to their waists, when a large tentacle reached out of the black water, wrapped itself around the couple in one swoop, and dragged them under.
They never even screamed.
Mina stood, processing what she had just done, and smiled.
Walking over to the basket, she went through the contents and was even more pleased with herself. It was real food, not some trick or poison. She had half expected spoiled vegetables or rotten meat but instead it was warm bread, soft cheese, and wonderfully cured salami.
She ate her fill sitting right there on the pathway, not even bothering returning to the bench.
If anyone bothered her, she would simply start singing again.
(English translation of The Dawning of the Day)
One morning early I went out
On the shore of Lough Leinn
The leafy trees of summertime,
And the warm rays of the sun,
As I wandered through the townlands,
And the luscious grassy plains,
Who should I meet but a beautiful maid,
At the dawning of the day.
No cap or cloak this maiden wore
Her neck and feet were bare
Down to the grass in ringlets fell
Her glossy golden hair
A milking pail was in her hand
She was lovely, young and gay
Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy
At the dawning of the day.
On a mossy bank I sat me down
With the maiden by my side
With gentle words I courted her
And asked her to be my bride
She turned and said, “Please go away.”
Then went on down the way
And the morning light was shining bright
At the dawning of the day.
__
By the evening’s end, Mina had acquired housing and by the week’s end, she was finding it easier and easier to get whatever luxuries she desired – if she was careful.
She didn’t always have to kill for them; usually she could get people to just give her things or leave their possessions behind. With a few short lines of a song, most Sinners who stood between her and what she wanted were putty in her hands.
The couple at the park had been an accident, though it was interesting to see how easily she had been able to off them without even intending to. But she wasn’t a monster, and she didn’t kill or maim just for fun, only if it really benefitted her. Mina wasn’t so short on empathy that she couldn’t realize that every other Sinner here in Hell was similar her in that they were just trying to get by. She was just lucky enough to have a power that gave her a step up in this world.
The only hang up that seemed to come with her gift was that she couldn’t just direct it at whoever she wanted. Anyone within ear shot was subject to her will when she sung. She found that out when she had tried to get a street vendor to walk away from their booth of food and the entire city block had vacated the area.
The strength of her power was daunting, and she had come to two concerning conclusions in her first weeks in Hell. One, she had an alarming lack of control over her magic and sometimes it scared her a bit. Two, there were beings in Hell far more powerful than herself and she could easily draw unwanted attention to herself with the wrong display of her power at the wrong time.
Siren abilities were not unique to just her. It was what Lillith herself was well known for. And there were several Overlords with a variety of hypnotic tricks that were far stronger than her own. However, she seemed to be the strongest average Sinner she came across, and she knew that would paint a target on her back for all those even more powerful than herself, so she did everything she could to keep a low profile.
Meaning, she mostly kept to herself and only used her siren abilities when alone with the person she wanted to manipulate.
Mina did try and find honest work, so she didn’t always have to steal money or goods, but it seemed there was a shortage of normal employers in Pentagram City. One could find a job that paid but with the steep stipulation that the person that paid you got to own part of your soul. Or just own it outright, depending on who you were dealing with.
As dangerous as living independently in Hell was, Mina was not about to give up her newfound freedom. She would rather cease to exist completely than be under someone else’s control ever again.
On the night that everything changed, she was making her way back to her place from the only bookstore she could find within walking distance of her new home. The owner was a lower-level Overlord and they had started an easy sort of acquaintance over a shared love of Shakespeare. Though he had offered a deal for her soul for 50 years of guaranteed employment and the promise of introducing her to the bard himself. The book seller was surprised when she took offense at his offer, and it had nearly stopped her from returning all together. But there wasn’t much else to do to pass the time in Hell besides read and though she was fairly certain she had sworn off men forever, it was nice to have someone to talk to, and the Overlord hadn’t propositioned her again when she eventually returned.
Arms full of her latest purchase, she ambled down the street, unaware when she caught the eye of a Sinner she had passed by that then began to follow her.
After a few more paces, he called out her name.
Mina froze there, right in the middle of the busy sidewalk, and felt the first real icy fingers of fear since that first day of her afterlife.
Her memory of her death was still fuzzy from the opium she had been on, but she was able to recall the exact way Johnathan had said her name from behind her before he attacked.
Was this going to be her eternal punishment? Having him come after her, again, and again, and again?
She took a steadying breath and turned to face him, almost surprised that he didn’t look the same as the last time she had seen him. But, of course, he was no longer any more human than she was. In fact, she wasn’t even sure it was him at first because the demon before her was more pig than man.
Forty years later she would read of the upright walking swine in Orwell’s novella Animal Farm and laugh for that was exactly what her ex-lover had looked like the night she finally ended him for good.
“It is you,” he said, and she realized he also hadn’t been certain of her identity, until she had stopped in response to his voice.
She laughed out loud to cover up her anxiety. “Oh, love, death really doesn’t look good on you.”
“You’re the one who did this to me!” he spat. “I wasn’t even trying to kill you, you stupid mick, why did you have to go at me with that knife?”
Mina didn’t bother justifying that question with an answer. Instead, she looked around her, trying to find a way out. The street was crowded, far too crowded to use her power in any way that wouldn’t cause a massive slaughter, which would undoubtedly cause more problems for her in the long run.
She felt her ears pin back and she hissed as he drew nearer. Despite the crowded street, she knew she could expect no help from any passersby. This was Hell, after all, and she had herself been a bystander to many assaults. Violence was simply part of life here.
But a strange thing happened as he got closer; her stomach rumbled, and she noticed he smelled good.
Not in an attractive kind of way, like a man freshly showered and perfumed. No, Johnathan smelled like a salted and honeyed roast set out for supper.
Something else Mina would read years later was that cats of several species have a remarkably fast reaction time, as quick as 20 milliseconds. Much faster than the average predator and certainly quicker than a slobbering pig.
That night, however, was the first time she got to experience just how much agility and a set of sharp teeth could win over brute strength and size.
The last time Johnathan had lunged for her, Mina had run. This time, she dropped her books and jumped first to the side to let him clumsily run past her, and then onto his large, round back.
She let her instincts take over and her strange new body responded in kind. Mina felt her face morph, her mouth and teeth growing larger, and her vision tunneled to the pulsing source of blood in the short stout neck exposed before her.
It was over in seconds.
First, she ripped out the side of his throat, holding onto his shoulders even as he stood and tried to buck her off. Her extended claws dug deeply into his flesh, and she bit down again, growling in pleasure as more hot blood filled her mouth.
Johnathan rammed his body backwards into the building beside them, crushing her and knocking the wind out of her so that she did finally let go. But she was only momentarily dazed and as he spun around to face her, offering her the more delicate front half of his body, she lashed out with her claws. She eviscerated what was left of his neck and he fell back as she pounced on him. Not a heartbeat after his back hit the ground, she was gutting him alive.
On lookers barely glanced at her as she split open his rib cage with her bare hands, clawed out his heart, and ate it.
__
Feeling full and very satisfied with herself, Mina finished her journey home, her gore covered hands happily holding onto her books she was still looking forward to reading.
She could feel the sticky blood drying on her face and could see that it was staining her blouse, skirt, and even the precious books but it was no matter. It could all be cleaned later. For now, she let herself revel in the confidence it gave her to walk safely home and not be bothered by anyone she passed by.
If only she had been able to bask in the blood lust of killing her husband years before, rather than quickly cleaning herself up and fleeing the scene.
This feeling of strength and power, that no man would ever again be able to touch her against her will, was truly invigorating. She approached the doorway to her building, feeling unstoppable, undeniably free, on top of the world-
A shadow fell upon the doorstep before her, far taller than one her own body could cast. She felt a shudder run through her as the shadow sprouted six appendages, three wing-like shapes on either side. A rush of hot air hit her back and tickled her hair against the back of her neck.
Then as suddenly as it was there, the heat and the shadow retreated, turning itself into a perfectly average height and shape.
“Forgive me if I frightened you,” a soft voice said from behind, “my kind is known for our dramatics, even when we’re not trying.”
Mina turned around slowly, expecting to see the worst nightmare Hell had offered her yet, but instead saw the closest thing to human she had seen in weeks.
It seemed to be man, but their features were more feminine than most, making her unsure. Their blonde hair was cut short and fashioned like a man’s would be, but they wore a dusting of gold eyeshadow, a fair amount of blush, and a long golden earing hung from the lobe of one ear. The voice that had spoken didn’t give anything away as far as gender went, either. They wore black trousers but the white dress blouse adorning their torso was much more like what a woman would wear.
“Who- I’m sorry, what, are you?” Mina asked, trying with all her might not to seem even half as terrified as she was.
The being smiled, showing almost perfectly normal, pearly white teeth, although the canines were just a little more pointed than a human’s would be.
“My name is Abaddon,” they said, “I’ve been watching you, Margaret Gallagher. And I’m here to make a deal I don’t think you’ll refuse.
Next Chapter ->
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel oc#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor the radio demon#hazbin oc#alastor x reader#the fire in the sin
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tw: racism, misogynoir, internalized misogyny, racial fetishization, abusive friendships, abusive relationships, domestic violence, rape, CSA mention, paraphilias
It's peak misogynoir for non-Black women to think that Black women should take undesirable men. The way I was attacked by other women over not wanting to be with my abuser is actually crazy, as if I shouldn't do better than him because it was an expectation for me to be abused. I stopped protecting him and everyone else took my place. Poor little baby didn't do anything wrong!
And even on a interracial level, it's believed that Black women shouldn't be romantic interests to white and Asian men, even biracial men. The tolerable exception is usually a Latino man. You break out of that mold and everyone is on your neck. I had rumors about me spread that I was into raceplay... That was the craziest projection.
My husband told me that non-Black people believe that Black people hate themselves when they date out. It's not the same for anybody else, though. An Asian woman has children by a white man, checks off her children as white on official documents for years instead of checking Mixed Race and nobody blinks. But Black people hate themselves. Lmao.
And I don't care about non-Black women being in relationships with Black men. Black men have been dating out for decades, who cares, but it's the way racist non-Black women use dating Black men as a trump card against Black women. The non-Black women that are fetishizing Black men have only approached me for friendship to literally be a culture appropriating vampire. They really feel like they should replace a Black woman in order to be in a relationship with a Black man and need a Black woman to leech off of—Slang, style, music, FOOD and sex. And it's all rooted in insecurity. I swear they binge watch Ebony amateur porn because they bring up Black penis unprovoked. It's a red flag to me.
In my opinion, they care about us being in relationships with Black men and get off on some weird "I can take your man if I want to," dynamic like that's your biggest opp if you're with a Black man, that bitch wants your life and is not your friend. 🤣 Heed my warning! She's mirroring you, love, she wants something from you and it comes at a great cost. Even if you're in an interracial relationship, they swear they can take your man... G'head.
And I'm not saying Black men are undesirable, hell no, but racist non-Black women expect us to be with abusers regardless of race because we aren't perceived as victims and they have access to all the "good" men, whatever the fuck that means. We are so hypersexualized that they want us to be with these dudes who have raging paraphilias, want us to have our children around them because that's a necessary evil they're willing to accept. Our children are a worthy sacrifice and they'll gladly look the other way. They always have.
They don't feel good enough even if they don't date Black men and put that on Black women to be the reminder, the mule, the most disrespected. Refuse to engage in the power dynamics and you're public enemy number one. Believe that you can do better and everyone's jumping into formation to humble you. Everyone hates a "bed wench" because you're encroaching on their territory. You can't be desired and deserving of love to them. It's unfathomable.
Don't be gaslighted.
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Barbarian 2022 Thoughts
Spoilers and TW: Incest, Rape, Police being Useless
First off, this was one of the most unsettling horror movies I’ve seen in a long, long time. I had to keep pausing the video and looking away to get passed some of these scenes. But onto a more analytical note, I think it’s very interesting how men in the story think of themselves as a good person, not by comparing themselves to the best, but by comparing themselves to the worst.
Keith is the best man Tessa encounters (save for Andre), but he’s still kinda pushy and creepy and needs validation at the expense of Tessa’s comfort. He thinks he’s a good person. He may be dismissive of Tessa’s concerns and needy, but he’s not one of those creepy, rapey guys.
You know, guys like AJ who definitely ARE one of those creepy rapey guys. He is a confirmed sexual predator in the movie, but even he thinks of himself as a good guy, because his definition of “rape” doesn’t match what he did to that girl. He pressured her, again and again, coerced her until she finally gave in. In his own words she “took some convincing.” But because he didn’t grab her by the hair and shove her down and rape her, it doesn’t count.
Even AJ reacts in horror to what Frank did to those girls, which was a much more classical idea of what rape is. He kidnapped women and kept them in his basement and filmed himself sexually assaulting them as they screamed and cried and begged him to stop. Going so far as to impregnate these women and then continue this cycle of abuse with his own children for who knows how many generations.
AJ is able to think of himself as a good guy, because he isn’t a Frank. And Keith is able to think of himself as a good guy, because he isn’t an AJ. I’m pretty sure Frank knows he’s evil, and just doesn’t care. It goes to show how narrow definitions of what “counts” as sexual assault allows supposedly lesser forms of crime to perpetuate themselves, because if your actions don’t fit some narrative scenario, then it doesn’t count. You did nothing wrong.
The problematic nature of narrative is also shown in how the police handle Tessa’s accusations of being held captive. She calls the police in a frantic state, as anyone just having escaped a nightmare would be. She’s in dirty, weeks old clothes, disheveled and scared. They think she’s a addict describing some hopped up solution. They refuse to help her or even investigate the house, leaving after getting a call about gunshots across town.
There’s this idea of the “perfect victim” in abuse cases. A wilting flower that merely excepts the violence done to her and never tries to fight back. A completely innocent person in a violent, toxic scenario. Only then can sympathy be cast upon her. Any transgression from this ideal gives way to backlash and criticism. “You should’ve known better.” “You should’ve fought back.” “If he was really so bad, why didn’t you leave?” “You hit him back? You’re also an abuser.” Etc, etc. And because Tess doesn’t fit this narrative of a perfect, wilting flower, her accusations aren’t taken seriously. Of course, there’s a wider issue of women’s accusations not being taken seriously, but I think the racial element comes into play as well.
Andre, the homeless man Tessa originally called the cops on, tried to warn her about the Mother in the basement. If even the homeless know what’s going on in that house, I’d hazard to guess the entire neighborhood knows what’s going on in that house. The Mother does, after all, come out at night, so she must’ve been spotted by others in the 40 years she’s been alive. You’d think the story “Multi-Generational Incest Monster Terrorizes Locals” would make headlines if it were reported. You’d think someone would report it!! You’d think anyone with a conscience would tell the police that bad things were happening to women in that house. But even if they never tried, I can’t blame them. I don’t think the police would’ve taken them seriously.
The area Tessa is renting the AirBnB from is mentioned to her would-be employer, who immediately reacts with shock and concern. The neighborhood is known for being dangerous, but obviously not because of the Mother. Because it’s a predominantly black neighborhood in a bad part of the city. Of course, it wasn’t always this way. Flashbacks show the same neighborhood as a picturesque suburb only a few decade prior, when it was a white neighborhood.
The film even makes a commentary about “white flight” as one of the neighbors tells Frank they’re leaving because the community is going to hell in a handbasket, implied to be that the racial demographic of the suburb is changing. We also hear on the radio the recent election of President Ronald Reagan, who is infamous for so many things, but most pertinent here was the war on drugs which destroyed a lot of black communities and families through over-harsh policies and policing and also literally introducing crack into black populations.
We’re shown how society has left this neighborhood to crumble and decay because of who lives inside it. Police are often an antagonistic force in colored communities, but the negligence can be equally as harmful. Tessa tries to call the police on Andre, but she’s informed there’s no available units to come to her aid. I don’t know if the film was trying to imply this or if I’m just projecting, but honestly I think the Operator was just lying to her. I think there were units available, but they just wouldn’t “waste” them sending them to THAT part of town.
My mother is Latina, not black, but she grew up in a very rough part of San Diego. And she described to me how she saw from her window a woman faint on the street. She seemed to be having a medical emergency. She called the police, and 20 minutes passed. She called them again, and 30 minutes passed. Finally, she calls them a third time saying, “I bet if I lived in a better part of the city, you’d have sent someone down already. I’d bet you’d actually care if it was someone who didn’t live here.” And finally after an hour, somebody shows up.
The police treat “bad” neighborhoods as low-priority. Their concerns and fears are not worth addressing. Their word is not to be taken seriously. So Tessa’s reports and the assumed community’s knowledge of the Mother goes in one ear and out the other.
It was a really good film. I would suggest it if you can stomach it.
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Not the same anon but thought I'd mention that the spinoff for Batman: Unburied deals with racism, islamophobia and racialized police brutality, due to the protag being the Riddler, who in this podcast is canonically muslim. Figured that your followers should know, in case racialized police brutality and fundamentalist christian violence are sensitive topics for anyone here. There is also a suicide, so tw for that.
Hey thanks!!! I'm gonna wait until I'm in a better headspace to listen to it then. Like please be careful followers!!!
mod ali
#riddler secrets in the dark#suicide tw#police brutality#fhpoc asks#Islamophobia#christian supremacy#podcast recs#recs tag
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ME4: Aftermath Reading Guide
--Mass Effect Trilogy spoilers--
Summary: The adventure continues. What happens in the new world? Time to rest? No! Time to rebuild and reshape the galaxy!
Hell had come to take them all home.
Then—
A pulse of red energy swallowed the world, and the monsters went away.
The Reapers were all gone.
Just like that, while the ruins of the Citadel still fell in brilliant streaks across the red-blue sky.
[AO3 Link]
Rating: Explicit, 18+ only
If you are not an adult, do not interact!
Tags: Post-Reaper War, Destroy Ending (Mass Effect), Shepard Survives (Mass Effect), Biotic Shepard (Mass Effect), Colonist (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect), Sentinel (Mass Effect), Paragade (Mass Effect), Novel, Slow To Update, POV Alternating, Plot, Established Relationship, Queerplatonic Relationships, Eventual Relationships, Adventure & Romance, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Found Family, Rebuilding, Reunions, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorks in Love, I Will Go Down With This Ship
[[TW/CW: Alcohol/drugs; Graphic violence; Mentions of substance abuse, trauma, death, injury, grief]]
Chapters will also be individually tagged for warnings. The epilogue has its own separate warnings, so please pay attention to those if/when you get there.
Explicit language is used, as well as terms some may find upsetting like st*p*d , id*ot, cr*zy, etc. (as self-referential hyperboles)—There are NO racial/gender/identity-based slurs.
Chapter 1: Rubble
Summary: The search for Shepard begins. The Normandy pulls itself together.
Chapter 2: Awakening
Summary: The galaxy is still a mess, and Shepard is still lost. Something shady is discovered. They have a funeral for a fish.
Chapter 3: The World Ended but I'm Looking Right at You
Summary: It's a Shenko reuinon! 🎉 Miranda and Jack go on an adventure.
Chapter 4: To be posted
#shenko#aftermath fic#mass effect#BrishFics#kaidan alenko#reading guide#fshenko#kaidan x shepard#shepard x kaidan#adventure#angst#fluff
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Tonight’s rant: the scene in the Byers house
I can’t believe we keep rehashing the same thing over and over again and I wanna put my thoughts in a post instead of just in reblogs. No one is saying Billy was in the right for threatening Lucas and beating Steve unconscious, but the scene is heavily influenced by the narrative lens, and Billy’s assumptions are not unreasonable.
TW ahead for physical violence, child abuse, and drug mentions.
We as the audience have a full understanding of the situation. We know Steve doesn’t have any ill intentions toward the kids, we know why all the Byers family isn’t there. We know about the Upside Down and the demogorgons and all that. But Billy doesn’t.
Billy isn’t looking for a fight, in spite of what anyone says. And need I remind you of his exact words on the Byers’ front lawn?
“I don’t know, Harrington. This whole situation, it’s giving me the heebie jeebies. My thirteen-year-old sister goes missing all day, then I find her with you, in a stranger’s house. And you lie to me about it.”
Steve has a reputation for getting around, and was recently ditched by Nancy. There are three other boys there and not a single Byers at the Byers residence. The house is a wreck, a window is broken, and drawings are taped everywhere. It probably looks like a drug ring or something equally suspicious.
Steve swings first. Yes, I said it. And Billy swings back and kicks Steve while he’s down but, as others have said, Billy fights dirty because he fights for his life. If he doesn’t want Steve to come after him again, he makes sure he stays down.
Then he gets inside and out of these kids, the only one who he recognizes is Lucas, the one who he knows has made Max angry. Regardless of whether or not you think Billy’s statement toward Lucas is racially motivated (which I don’t), the fact remains that Billy has seen Lucas upset Max.
He goes too far with Lucas, I’ll freely admit that. It’s another echo of Neil’s treatment of Billy, and as others have gotten into, Billy expects everyone to act like Neil. He’s in the wrong, but his actions are coming from his experience with his father, which is the only thing he has to go off.
Then Steve pulls him off Lucas and tells him, “Get out.” Of course Billy isn’t leaving without Max. To his mind, violence is the only course left. He’s not justified in pummeling Steve unconscious, but as mentioned before by others, Steve fights with the assumption that his opponent will acknowledge a loss and leave. Billy fights dirty because he learned from his home life that it ends when your opponent doesn’t (or can’t) fight back.
Then Max stabs him with the syringe. Did she even know what was in that syringe? Did she see it get used on Will? Or was she just fully prepared to inject Billy with something that could kill him? Not to mention stabbing him in the neck, which is incredibly dangerous.
He’s already down when she threatens him with the bat. Even just embedding it in the floor between his legs sent a clear enough message. But her words “Say you understand! Say it. SAY IT!!” is a direct parallel to Neil’s “Isn’t that right? ISN’T THAT RIGHT?!” and the “Max, say it. SAY IT!!” from Billy earlier in the season. Billy’s quiet “I understand” is almost an exact copy of his “yes, sir” from earlier in the show. It’s not a badass moment for Max, it shows how both of them are caught in the cycle of abuse that Neil started.
TL;DR: Billy wasn’t right to hurt Steve and Lucas, but the assumptions he makes are reasonable and his actions are coming from his warped expectations thanks to abuse. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
#billy hargrove#stranger things#stranger things analysis#max mayfield#steve harrington#tw abuse#tw drug mention#my posts
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Yall might want to premptively block user khalifaziz as they have blazed a post which has art of a minstrel character, you know, the racist antiblack stereotype, to promote their batman fiction, beginning by showing art of their original villian character, Minstrel.
They have for some unfathomable reason paid to cast before the eyes of the town in expectation of a positive reception. I cannot imagine how this sounded like a good idea to anyone to write a fic that they summarize in their abbreviated own words as
"amid a blackface party and police brutality scandal , new criminal appears in Gotham City. Reclaiming racist blackface imagery, Minstrel uses Joker's tactics to retaliate for antiblack racism... Is he the Joker's adopted nephew? A vengeful spirit given physical form? A cringey self-insert asshole in make up? Batman will work tirelessly to answer those questions and bring Minstrel to justice, but at what cost to his own worldview?
TW: Racism, violence, bigotry, racial slurs, rape mention (but no explicit scenes of the last one)"
I can imagine even less how spreading a post with art of this original character, much less calling them a potential "edgy" self insert could ever seem like a good idea.
This is going to be a shitshow.
#my post#batman#blaze it#frick i hit post too soon so i dont even know if this will end up in the tag#racism#antiblack racism#block list update#minstrel
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Orc/elven prince thingy (drabble??)
inspired by the beginning/premise of this (very NSFW) roleplay. I should have probably posted this on the NSFW side blog, but it'd be completely ignored there and I know people here to suffer.
The premise, so that you don't have to listen/read anything on GWAG: rulers of an elven kingdom started to mess with the orcs (who presumably live somewhere on the borders) - taxing, fining, restricting their moments etc. Orcs tried to negotiate, but their words fell on deaf ears. So, a chief of an orc tribe kidnaps an elven prince to make his parents pay attention to their demands.
In the original roleplay the prince is silly and scared, which is fine, but I want him to be a politician. And for him to have trouble with his parents, of course. (Slightly inspired by a whole bunch of stuff and also my beloved Elven Prince series (still very NSFW).)
TW: kidnapping, threats of violence, mentions of fantasy racism.
Notes: I just had to get it out of my head, almost unedited.
Word count: around 600.
The scene - the orc chief's tent, the prince has his hands tied together (I'm not sure if he's supposed to be tied to a chair or not, but it's not important), the chief enters with a smug look on his face, expecting the captive to be panicking, but...
"Good evening, noble chief, to what to I owe the honour?" the prince turns to the entrance and respectfully bows his head.
The orc is a little surprised but tries not to show it: "To your parents' stupidity and stubbornness, princeling," he chuckles, expecting a disagreement, but he isn't met with one.
"I presume this concerns the latest," the elf makes the tiniest pause, choosing a word, "developments in the orc policies in the kingdom."
"Yeah, it concerns," the chief is making fun of the elf, "your parents pushing us around and ignoring us."
"And what exactly is your plan, if I might inquire, noble chief?" the prince remains uncharacteristically calm.
"Rough you up and demand your parents attention," the orc says bluntly.
"I'm afraid I'd have to disappoint you, but you'll just be making their majesties a big favour, or even two," the elf says without breaking eye-contact.
"How?" the chief breaths out, moving closer and towering over the prince, who's holding back a shudder.
"You see, noble chief, they aren't happy with both of us. You and your people weren't silently accepting mistreatment and I haven't been agreeing with their policies for a while and 'behaving as a proper elven heir should'. So, by having me here, you give them a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone - launch a crusade against you and find my body in the ruins of your camp," the elf explains.
"Why would they want you dead? Why not just have another heir? And why would you be dead in the first place - I wasn't planning on killing you," the orc is very confused.
"Due to longevity elves can't have more than one child - the rulers are supposed to be an example to their people. And lately, leaving the kingdom in my hands has become their worst nightmare," the prince huffs bitterly, "Oh, and who said you'd be the one to kill me? No one would pay attention in the heat of battle."
The orc chief stares at the elven prince in disbelief. In orcish culture hurting a child - moreover your child - is one of the worst crimes. They stand in silence for a bit.
"And what do you suggest, prince?" the orc is so surprised, he forgets to be deprecating.
"Have you already sent a messenger to the capital?" the elf asks, cool and collected, as if nothing happened.
"No, why?"
"If you're willing to work with me, noble chief, we can turn this situation into an opportunity for both of us," the prince gives a small smile, "You didn't kidnap me - I came here myself to help work out a solution of the latest problems with the kingdom racial policies," the orc raises an eyebrow, interested, "We'll make an official statement to the elven people and then I can offer myself as an ambassador and a negotiator on the orcs' side. That'll help us push their majesties and, hopefully, earn us an ally in each other."
The chief give the elf another long look.
"Well, if we are to be allies," he reaches towards the bindings, "here," with one swift motion of an orcish knife the elf's hands are free.
"Introductions are in order," he extends his hand for a handshake, "I am Chief Drorik, a servant to my own people."
The prince readily returns the gesture.
#gwag#grinningpup#writing#fanfic#orc/elf#mlm fantasy#orc fiction#I don't know how to tag it#and then they become allies and friends and fall in love and then when the prince becomes the king they definitely get married#and they fuck nasty of course
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An Ekphrastic poem based on Carroll Cloar’s “Halloween.”
TW mentions of racial violence
#poetry#writers and poets#poems and poetry#poems on tumblr#poems and quotes#poets on tumblr#poets corner#original poems#Carroll cloar#artist#ekphrastic poetry#racism
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The Nickel Boys || Colson Whitehead
★★★★★
TW: oh god so much, RACISM, HATE CRIME, DEATH, VIOLENCE
This book has earned it's place on my recommendation shelf. Before I get too far into this, I had to read this book for my class. It is not a book I normally would have picked up, I tend to stay away from traditional fiction, especially fiction based on real life issues (ironic given that's what I tend to write).
I literally just finished reading this book. My head is reeling.
Let's start with the basic information on this story. It is about the boys of The Nickel Reform School for Boys. It is a harrowing tale of racial discrimination and acts of hatred and violence. It tells of a boy who was arrested for a crime he did not commit and the pain he endured at the hands of the reform school teachers.
It does not get into gore filled specifics about his punishments, but it is still enough to make me nauseous. I knew that stuff like this existed, I have gone out of my way to listen and learn about these horrific acts and I was still taken aback to see them laid out so plainly in front of me.
Not only that but the story is written exceptionally well. I had a hard time putting the book down. It was captivating and I wanted to finish it, I wanted to get to the twist at the end. I wanted to learn.
This book if horrifying in that it is very real. The characters are just that, characters. They, and the school they went to, are made up. But that doesn't make it any less real. They are based on real people, they are telling a tale that needs to be told.
So yeah, this story has earned it's place for me. It is a book that I will recommend to everyone until the day I die because it is important that it is told. It is important that as a society we acknowledge what has happened in the past, and this book tells the past well.
I am sickened and nauseous after reading it, as I should be. I am currently dealing with some health issues that mean I did not pay as close attention to it as I should, so I will be reading it again when I can.
holy shit
I would like to throw in some homework excercises for the book here, because I feel like they also show information about the book that I have not touched on yet (this will contain spoilers):
This second half of the book confused me from a POV standpoint. That is, until the Epilogue. When I tell you that my jaw dropped when I read the last paragraph of chapter 16.
When I got confused was when we started hopping back and forth. I’m gonna be honest here, I read this book in 8 hours. Switching back and forth like this book does is not something I can wrap my head around when immersed in reading like I was. However, it does start to make more sense towards the end. One thing that was nagging me since the start of this section was the mention of Elwood living when his friend died. I was like “nooo not Tucker!” and then became more and more confused as we neared the end of the book and Tucker showed no sign of dying. It actually started to look like Elwood was going to die in his stead, but that didn’t make sense based on the information we were given. How could Elwood die if we were reading his point of view of the story?
Very easily, it seems. We simply weren’t getting his point of view. This book had cemented itself onto my recommendations shelf before this point, but it has now earned its permanent stay there. Not only is it a harrowing tale of the horrors black youths endured at reform schools, but it is also written really well and has a captivating story. And it has a big twist at the end! It will forever stay on my recommendation shelf (this is a shelf I have that I place books that I will always recc to people. Always. Every time someone comes over I’m like “new book on the shelf! Check it out!).
I think it could have done without switching times mid-chapter, I preferred the way that The Hours kept time switches separated. However, it's still great.
I am planning on writing little things like this every time I read a book just to help me keep track of them. If I don’t write down my opinions and thoughts right away I am liable to forget them. I am hesitant to call these a review because I’m really just not comfy with that lol
I will do my best to make sure I appropriately tag and warn about topics. If I miss any please let me know!
#TW: Depictions of racism#TW: racism#TW: hate crime#TW: violence#the nickel boys#colson whitehead#andi reads#bookblr#reading#booklr#book review#book recommendations#andi talks#i'm going to be processing this book for a hot minute#this is the best of the four books we had to read for this class#i think everyone should read this book#though be mindful of the tws and take care of yourself
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