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#white male domestic terrorism

wilwheaton · 8 months

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America is living through a reign of white supremacist terror, but we won’t bring ourselves to call it that, treat it that way, or hold accountable the provocateurs in the Republican Party who are catalyzing and instigating the attacks. You might be forgiven for missing the significance of the weekend news that a gunman who fits the profile of domestic right-wing terrorist – white, male, 21 years old – allegedly targeted Black people and opened fire in a Jacksonville Dollar General store, killing three people of color before committing suicide. It’s easy and not entirely erroneous to drop this incident in the bucket of runaway gun crimes in an America with few gun regulations. But it’s the wrong bucket to put in it. This is the runaway violence of white supremacists against minority groups happening in tandem with the rise of a radical right-wing Republican Party, but with little public acknowledgment or understanding of what’s really happening.

America Is In the Grip Of A Reign Of White Supremacist Terror

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liberalsarecool · 2 years

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Domestic white male terrorism is 'Republican populism' at this point.

#stochastic terrorism

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 months

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Inhale our sorrow, exhale our future - Simon “Ghost” Riley*Reader

content warning: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, mention of domestic abuse, trauma

Word count: 890

Probably the reason why I write Ghost so much.

Hope everyone can find the love of your life, no matter it's hobbies, friends, family members, lovers etc, and don't hesitate to find help when you need :)

Everyone wears a different mask to disguise themselves.

You and Simon have been together for a year, living together in your own flat — not too big, but comfortable.

but Simon knows you have a secret.

You always welcome him with homemade meals, massage his sore muscles, and sing him little songs that he enjoys so much even though your singing is kind of off-tune.

You buy him little things that remind you of him, you hug him when he is startled awake from his nightmares.

You seem alright most of the time, but he knows there’s something wrong with you.

You can’t watch TV shows or videos including a male yelling, you are startled by specific footsteps and the noise of fumbling keys, and you tense up when you hear others arguing loudly.

He found you woke up during the night, you said you were just going to the toilet, but he could hear you vomiting and panting in the bathroom.

Simon doesn’t want to push you too much or dig into the terrible memories you refuse to think of, but when he hears you throwing up in the bathroom tonight, he knows he needs to do something.

You ease his terror of his past, so he wants to help you too.

He watches you walk out of the bathroom, eyes widen a bit when you see him holding two mugs of hot tea and standing just beside the bathroom door.

“Simon, sorry, did I wake you up?” He can see cold sweat covering your forehead.

“Want to talk to you, let’s go to the living room?” He gestures.

“Alright.”

Simon turns on the TV, chooses a channel that is playing some soft music, and tosses the remote aside.

“Tell me what happened, hun?” He doesn’t want to scare you, his tone is soft like a feather, but you avoid his gaze, staring at the steam rising from the mug.

The silence stays in the air for quite a long, until you finally speak again.

“I don’t want to be your burden, Simon.” The whisper comes from you is trembling, he simply shakes his head.

“You catch me when I’m vulnerable, I can’t let you suffer from the past alone when you help me through those nightmares.” He can see the knuckles of your hand holding the mug become white from how hard you are managing to control your feelings.

“It’s you who tells me I don’t need to be a Ghost when I’m with you, you make me become alive again, I don’t need to hide my fear when there are you supporting me.” You let him take away the mug and put it on the table “So let me become your backing, okay?”

Simon hears you inhale deeply, holding your breath, and then exhale it slowly, like you are building the courage.

“Can I hug you, Simon?”

“Of course, love.”

Your warm body touches his, his arms lock you firmly against him, your hands grabbing on his shirt shaking uncontrollably.

and he hears you sobbing in his embrace.

so Simon starts singing the song, the song that you always use to comfort him, he’s not good at singing, but after a few minutes, you suddenly snort with laughter, and he pulls away to watch your face.

Your eyes and nose are red from crying, eyebrows drop from sadness, but he knows you have calmed down from the previous nightmare.

“Your singing sucks, Simon.” You laugh, and he just squeezes you back into his chest.

“Better than yours”

The quietness fills the room again, you two sit there, sharing the warmth and exchanging between you two.

“It’s just... my father.” After a few minutes, you murmur into his chest, and he hums, indicating that he’s listening.

“Throwing breakfast on my face when he’s angry, slapping my face when I'm not obedient like a "good kid" he wants, knocking down the door when I'm afraid of his anger and locking myself in my room, and other things... too many things...”

Your words trigger the bad memories from his past, he can feel the pain, the helpless feeling you felt in those moments. It hurts him, his heart broke into pieces after his childhood, and you mend him into a human again.

“You don’t have to say all of them, just know I’m always here, just like you’ve always got my back, got it?”

“mmhmm” He caresses your waist and back when you reply, but you let out chuckles and start wiggling”

“It tickles, Simon.” You back off from his hug, and the usual grin returns to your face again, there’s tiredness inside, but this time, there’s relief in it too.

“You want to go to sleep, love?”

“Not sleepy now.”

“Watch some Movies?”

“Great Idea.” You give him a virginal peck on his cheek and retrieve the remote.

“Not the same movie again, hun. You have watched it 10 times.”

“Shut up, Simon. I know you love it too.”

The blanket wrapping you two, preventing the warmth from leaving, you watch his eyes fixate on the screen, and you sigh happily.

Yeah, those memories already belong to the past, and the scar might be left there for years, but you have this man to create new memories in the future, and the love will shine in your memories forever too.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #gender neutral reader

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coochiequeens · 1 month

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Another violent man trying to worm his way into spaces with vulnerable women. Did he feel like a woman when he attacked a women’s health center?

By Anna Slatz March 20, 2024

A trans-identified male serving a 53-year sentence for multiple domestic terrorism charges is suing the Bureau of Prisons, demanding transfer to a women’s prison. Emily Claire Hari, formerly known as Michael Hari, led a ragtag right-wing militia called Patriot Freedom Fighters, later re-named to the White Rabbits.

Hari, along with the small group, began engaging in criminal activity in 2017 with the intention of carrying out acts of domestic terrorism. In August of that year, Hari’s group set an improvised incendiary device near the Imam’s office of the Dar-al Farooq Islamic Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. One of Hari’s associates, Micheal McWhorter, would later confirm the purpose of the attack was to “scare Muslims out of the United States.” No one was injured in the attack.

In November of 2017, Hari and his “soldiers” targeted the Women’s Health Practice in Champaign, Illinois, where they threw a pipe bomb into the building. The bomb did not detonate and was found by a receptionist of the clinic who called police to safely extract the device from the facility.

Hari in Sherburne County Jail in 2021.

Hari and his militia would go on to engage in a series of petty crimes in an attempt to gather the funds to continue their operations, including robbing a Hispanic man and holding up two local Walmarts in Clarence, Illinois in December of 2017.

In early 2018, Hari and his ‘militia’ attempted to sabotage railroad tracks near Effingham, Illinois with a bomb. After the attack, the group sent ransom emails demanding $190,000 in cryptocurrency under threat they would damage the railway further.

Shortly after, Hari tried to frame another individual for the crimes, but the effort would only lead to Federal Investigators more easily tracking him and the members of his militia down.

Hari and his colleagues were ultimately arrested, and, in 2021, Hari was sentenced to 53 years for his role in the Dar al-Farooq bombing. He later received an additional 14 years in 2022 on a number of other charges related to his domestic terrorist activity and the attempted bombing of the women’s clinic. The 14 years is to be served concurrently with the 53-year sentence.

During his trial, it was revealed that Hari identified as a transgender “woman.” While leading the White Rabbit militia, he had been searching terms such as ‘sex change,’ ‘transgender surgery,’ and ‘post-op transgender’ on the internet. Hari allegedly planned on fleeing to Thailand to get ‘gender affirming’ surgeries.

Hari had asked the court to take his gender dysphoria into consideration, and made a request for an amended federal prison placement based on his identity. The details of his request were placed under a seal and the presiding judge stated he would defer to the Bureau of Prisons to make the final call.

But Reduxx has now learned that the judge in the case recommended Hari be placed at FMC Carswell, a female institution, but that Bureau of Prisons instead sent him to a men’s facility. As a result, Hari launched a lawsuit agains the Bureau of Prisons in late 2022 in a case that has been quietly making its way through the US District Court in the Central District of Illinois.

Hari is seeking transfer to a women’s prison under the Bureau of Prison’s transgender policy, which was amended in February of 2022 to make a transgender inmate’s “personal safety” and gender identity a priority when determining housing.

In his complaint, which was hand-written, Hari claims he has been subjected to sexual harassment by “dangerous tranny chasers,” and made fun of for his gender identity. He has since filed over two dozen “exhibits,” attempting to show the court he does not belong in a men’s prison. Among these exhibits include photos of himself wearing a dress-like inmate uniform.

Hari formally applied for transfer to a women’s prison in October of 2023, attempting to exhaust his internal remedies.

In an email exchange dated January 10, 2024, the Transgender Executive Council, which makes housing decisions, re-affirmed his placement at the men’s facility and told Hari his case would be re-reviewed in November — something Hari had been told repeatedly in the past.

In a Motion for Miscellaneous Relief, Hari claimed that if he were not transferred to a women’s prison in November, he would go on a hunger strike and slice off his own penis.

“The hunger strike is a political protest against both the conditions that I have been held under, and the conditions that my transgender sisters have been held under in BOP custody,” Hari wrote. “If I am not given some reasonable assurance that I am to be moved to a gender affirming housing by November 5, I will initiate a hunger strike and auto-castration on that date.”

From the motion for miscellaneous relief filed on November 13, 2023.

Hari is currently housed at Allenwood USP, a high-security facility in Pennsylvania for male offenders. While he is classified as a “male” inmate, his name in the BOP system has been changed from “Michael” to “Emily.”

If Hari is moved to FMC Carswell, he will be one of several dangerous trans-identified males held at the facility.

As previously broken by Reduxx in December, a trans-identified male convicted of rape and child sexual abuse was transferred FMC Carswell after launching a lawsuit against the Bureau of Prisons claiming “discrimination.” July Justine Shelby, born William McClain, was convicted on multiple counts of child pornography trafficking after being caught distributing photos of infants being sexually abused.

According to Keep Prisons Single Sex USA, there are approximately 1,980 transgender offenders in the federal system, of which 1,295 are trans-identified males. Of them, almost 50% are in custody for sex offenses. This is compared to just 12% of the general federal inmate population, meaning that trans-identified males are incarcerated for sex offenses at a rate of almost four times that of non-transgender inmates.

Between 2022 and 2023, there was an almost 23% increase of federal inmates who identified as transgender.

#Emily Claire Hari is Michael Hari #Patriot Freedom Fighters #the White Rabbits #Islamophobia #Attacks on women's health center #KeepPrisonsSingleSex #Another violent man trying to weasel into women's prisons

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rametarin · 1 month

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to be honest

Saw a post about people freaking out about how the slogans and recognizable memes of anarchists and anarcho-communists are, "considered domestic terrorism now."

I'm sorry, I don't give a fuck. A few years ago, I was part of the group of people branded, "undesirable," for posting funny pictures of a cartoon frog. Not just in political situations, but ANY situation. It was a way to manufacture context that made anybody that did that, into, "an alt-right Nazi." And a mythology was created behind it about people who do, that we were ideologically driven antisemitic racist male chauvinist monsters, and you could recognize that Nazism-in-all-but-name by the posting of a funny frog.

I don't give a shit that belligerent property destroyers with aspirations of disestablishing or demolishing the American state (not JUST fixing its problems, destroying and replacing with another system and other values) are properly getting categorized as a threat to that state.

As for, "Nazis go home" being considered a threatening dogwhistle? The people screaming, "FUCK YOU, NAZIS!" while punching someone in the head that has absolutely nothing to do with white supremacism, fascism or socialism, may have had something to do with that. Ideologically making a logical reach to kinda-sorta see every white person you disagree with philosophically as just a Nazi but spaces removed, and that justifies your antagonism because YOU decided that, is what made hearing that a warning sign.

And the fact it was added to a list of warning signs to be wary of doesn't indicate anyone is anything even approaching a Nazi, it means people have watch anarchists antagonize and brutalize people while howling nonsense about beating up non-existent Nazis. But hey, that's the point of invoking fighting Nazis, isn't it? Because it makes you look good moaning about being persecuted to some stupid kids later on, and how, "the state was just protecting Nazis!!!"

The Gadsden Flag is a cheesy uncle icon, not a symbol of hatred or an invocation of violence. If "Don't tread on me" can be smeared as a symbol of hate groups just because milquetoast conservative protesters use it during hokey protests, then by fucking god, "No Borders, No Nations" can be seen as a slogan for dangerous people, as well.

This is the world they helped create when they decided to thought criminalize benign things and encourage people to either cast them down as the worst people in the world, or the subtle threat to be treated and punished with vandalism, sabotage and violence, just like them.

If Anarchist symbols from the actual Anarchist history are properly being moved into the, "national conspiracist" column, then congratulations. This is the world you helped create, and you shot first.

But you missed.

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incorrectthots · 2 years

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No one asked but here's my top favorite fics, not in order so :> enjoy i might add onto the list later on so stay tuned 💛

A Wonderful Waste of Time by ipomea

136K E rated Death Stranding Sam Porter Bridges/Higgs Monaghan

Enemies to friends to lovers, roommates, developing relationship, personal growth

"Nearly three years after Higgs' condemnation to the Beach, he finds himself powerless and returned to the world of the living. He retreats to the only home he's ever known—only to discover Sam and his surrogate daughter. For the first time, Higgs will have to learn to live with people and manage his burgeoning feelings for Sam, all while trying to stay out of the UCA's grasp."

Air Conditioning by Astronaut-in-Space

4.5K E rated Major Character death The Matrix Thomas "Neo" Anderson/Agent Smith

Chinese simplified Alternative Universe, Game:the white door (rusty lake), prostitute neo

"Rehabilitation patient Smith / male prostitute Neo "I'm afraid forgetting is the best antidote."

Climbing by astolat

1K E rated Batman Begins Bruce Wayne/Henri Ducard

Previously posted on livejournal

"I had a wife," Ducard said. "She was taken from me."

My Lover and My Friend by Picture_Yourself

7.7K M rated The sandman (comics)/(TV 2022) Dream of the endless/Hob Gadling

Anxiety, overthinking, panic attacks, Morpheus needs therapy, cuddling & snuggling

"It's nighttime and Hob is asleep. But the King of Dreams doesn't sleep. Left alone with his thoughts in the aftermath of his first time with his new lover and the recent trauma of his imprisonment, his thoughts begin to spiral which calls for an intervention of his siblings. Although not one he might wish for. A relatively self-contained sequel/epilogue to I'm Morpheus, Please Dance With Me."

Your heart is a muscle the size of your fist by citrus_boots 11K M rated Fight club Tyler Durden/narrator

Mental institutions, fighting as a metaphor for gay sex, implied/referenced terrorism, self-harm, domestic fluff, this is the healthiest they get

"My brain is still full of him, even if he’s gone. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he’s gone. Sometimes it feels like there’s a leather jacket and a bruised face just out of my line of sight. Sometimes I wish there was."

Hyperion Ranch by Sinesthero 8.5K E rated Borderlands(video games) Timothy Lawrence/Wilhelm

Pinning, eventual smut, 1930s ranch AU, sexual situations, death mention, shenanigans

"Young Timothy Lawrence is left to run Hyperion Ranch for the spring and summer while its owner, Handsome Jack, is off with his circus. On impulse, he hires the burly Wilhelm to work for him. Now he can't get the much older man out of his mind."

I tore off the golden branch by catmanu

8.1k+ E rated Major Character Death Men's football RPF Luka Modrić/Ivan Rakitić

Alternate universe- magical realism, alternate universe- No girlfriends/no wives, character death, underworld, angst and feels, Rakidrić- freeform, Translation available

"Luka dies in a tragic accident. Ivan would do anything, go anywhere, to have him back. And so would Luka."

Entre Nous (between us) by Greenlikethesky

11k M rated Formula 1 RPF Alain Prost/Ayrton Senna

Angst, unhappy ending

"Alain and Ayrton from 1988 to 1989; hate and love and everything in between"

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devilsskettle · 2 years

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Whiplash is pro-abuse propaganda, it sets out to explicitly condone masculine dominance violence. It tells men in positions of power over others to be "tougher" that their criminal abuse is actually helping people achieve. It tells victims to be quiet and love their abusers. It tells people who witness abuse to do nothing, that abusers are in the right. It's a disgusting, violent, abusive movie. It's a weapon aimed at vulnerable people.

i think that’s a really reductive prescriptivist reading of the movie, if you think it frames his actions in a positive light i think that’s a significant misinterpretation. i think it’s fake deep about its whole trying to achieve “greatness” theme, i think it sets up a false dichotomy between the tortured artist and the well-adjusted but unremarkable and tries to deconstruct that idea at the same time that it reinforces it, i think it has very little substance despite framing itself as profound which is pretentious as hell, i think it is extremely male and representative of toxic masculinity, it's also another extremely white movie about jazz, i think it is a red flag for a man to really like this film tbh because i think there is too much room to interpret abuse as “effective” or “helping people achieve” as you put it, and i do take issue with that but that would largely be the fault of the viewer, not the filmmaker. like when people think fuckin fight club is encouraging people to actually do fight clubs (and domestic terrorism) - completely missing the point of the criticism of toxic masculinity. representing the teacher’s views and motivations is different than condoning them, and i think it pretty clearly illustrates that his methods are detrimental to his students' personal wellbeing and their success as musicians. if you think the audience is meant to think he's in the right, i think you have real problems with media literacy and i’m not going to change my opinion of the movie because you misread it. especially since i thought it was only an okay movie! i do think it has a great ending, not because the main character is "successful" or whatever but because of its ambiguity - is he going to get sucked back into the same unhealthy cycle of abuse or is this act of defiance showing that he’ll escape it? will he attribute this performance to being “pushed” or will he realize that this achievement was in spite of that treatment (where his previous “failure” was because of it)? i think we’re meant to get the idea that he will continue to be trapped in this cycle and we’re supposed to be deeply unsettled by this, like his father is - isn't his father recognizing how harmful this is to his son the audience's way into the story, since we, like his father, watch him spiral and recognize it's an unhealthy dynamic even though the main character himself doesn't? doesn’t this film also serve as a criticism of how ineffective “holding people accountable” is when they’re able to get the same job and create the same power dynamic and continue the same patterns of abusive behavior? that's a huge issue in the film industry specifically but also in other artistic fields which has persisted for years, these ideas about commitment and growth through pain and the “tortured artist” being used to manipulate young people trying to break into the industry, and this movie speaks to that issue. i think there are a lot of other films that do this better but i would hardly say it condones this behavior. not a single person who has talked to me about this movie think this guy’s actions are justified. but like yeah, this movie is violent, it’s a movie about violence. the premise is that it’s a depiction of abuse and manipulation. i’m not sure what genre it’s considered officially but it’s essentially a psychological thriller. it’s hardly meant to be taken as a model for good behavior. also you say the film tells people to stay silent when they witness or experience abuse but i don’t see how you drew that conclusion. because the main character feels conflicted about it? because the teacher isn’t a one dimensional villain? because it's not a movie about general morality but about the experience of emotional abuse, and how abusers' tactics affect their targets? do you need them to spell it out for you in bold letters that abuse is bad and this guy's behavior is batshit? do you need movies to spoon feed you the Big Moral Lesson like a disney movie

#wondering how you feel about movies like fame and black swan and i tonya #also like. i don't really get what your point is in sending me this.#in response to a thoughtless no notes post about it?#i guess sorry if i read your message as more hostile than you intended but i do think you're wrong #i didn't realize i had thoughts about this movie until you made me re-examine it so thanks for that i guess #i guess i will choose literally any hill to die on. even if it's about a movie i thought was like a 2/5 at best #i guess it's more about the lack of nuance. can we please get some fucking nuance here #also why did i think this movie just came out when it was made in 2014 #i did delete that post though it was too cavalier #it’s like not that fucked up compared to a lot of psychological thrillers but if you consider it a straight drama then it is #and like. it’s the same thing with joker where people hype it up SO much and then you watch it and it’s barely even suspenseful #i mean you’re hyping it up right now you’re creating this unwarranted reputation that there’s something more to it #when it’s honestly just a pretty shallow boring movie #it’s not even like. uniquely bad lol #whiplash

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 2 years

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Leading gunmakers made more than $1 billion from selling AR-15-style semiautomatic weapons in the last decade, a report from the House Committee on Oversight and Reform says.

These companies use "aggressive marketing tactics" to target young men by emphasizing masculinity, making veiled references to white supremacist groups, and touting military-grade weaponry, the Committee report said.

"The business practices of these gun manufacturers are deeply disturbing, exploitative, and reckless," Rep. Carolyn B. Maloney, committee chairwoman, said in a statement.

Ryan Busse, a former firearms executive who is now a senior policy adviser to gun-safety advocacy group Giffords Law Center, told Insider that it is crucial to examine the ways that gun companies market their weapons.

Busse noted the change in how guns had been pitched over the years – from an emphasis on hunting and self-defense to selling military-grade weapons and tactical culture.

"The [gun] industry is both creating these customers and marketing to them. And therefore, it's propagating more of this radicalization," Ryan Busse said.

Busse, who testified before the House Committee last week, said that the revenue size is not surprising but what is important is "the dangerous ways that AR-15s are intertwined with political radicalization."

The House Committee began its investigation into the top five firearm makers in the country in May following the mass shootings in Buffalo, New York, and Uvalde, Texas, that left 31 victims dead. Both gunmen used legally purchased semiautomatic rifles.

The primary target of gunmakers' advertising, according to Busse, is "this angry, young male, politically active, conservative, aggrieved, dreams of using the AR-15 to 'make things right in the world'."

"In other words– people who also fall right into domestic terror groups and radicalization and everything else."

AN EMPHASIS ON TACTICAL CULTURE, MASCULINITY, AND REFERENCES TO EXTREMIST GROUPS

The Committee report said that in their sales materials, gun manufacturers prey on masculinity by claiming their weapons will put people "at the top of the testosterone food chain."

An example of this is the "Man Card" campaign that AR-15 maker Bushmaster launched in 2010, which marketed its guns to a "Man's Man" in a "world of rapidly depleting testosterone."

Although the campaign ceased after the Sandy Hook massacre in 2012 where the 20-year-old gunmanwho killed 26, including 20 children aged six and seven, was aremd with a Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle, its successes set an example for other gunmakers to follow, Busse wrote in The Atlantic.

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Last year, one gunmaker generated controversy by advertising a miniature AR-15 rifle for kids, called the "JR-15."

Some gunmakers have also appeared to make references to far-right groups.

One example of this political targeting is an AK-47-style pistol, produced by Palmetto State Armory, which is adorned with a pattern resembling the signature Hawaiian shirts worn by the Boogaloo Bois far-right extremist group.

There are approximately 19.8 million AR-15 style rifles in circulation in the US and while the vast majority of gun-owners never use their weapons to harm others, Busse said it's important to recognize the ways that gun marketing plays a role in contributing to radicalization.

Since 2010, gunmakers have increasingly marketed guns as the civilian equivalents of military-grade weapons and emphasized a tactical culture, Busse said.

This emphasis on tactical culture, previously reserved for the military, alludes to "specifically targeting humans, sort of as a life or death situation."

"I'd say maybe even a majority of the guns sold in the United States now are sold and marketed with the idea that the user, the owner, will use them in some sort of tactical operation," Busse said.

GUNMAKERS DEFLECT RESPONSIBILITY

While Democrats have called for greater gun control and to remove protections that make it harder to sue gun companies, Republicans have resisted further regulation.

Republicans on the committee have accused Democrats of blaming the gun industry instead of looking at the causes of violent crime.

"Republicans want to target criminals. Democrats want to target lawful gun owners and take away their guns," Rep. James Comer, the committee's top Republican, said.

Several gun company executives testified before the committee last week and denied responsibility for recent massacres by arguing that firearms are "inanimate."

"These acts are committed by murderers. The murderers are responsible," Marty Daniel, the founder and chief executive of Daniel Defense, told the Committee.

The CEO of Smith & Wesson, the country's second-largest rifle manufacturer, refused to testify. The Committee has subpoenaed the company after it failed to provide requested information on its profits, sales figures, and marketing materials.

"It's no secret why gun CEOs are so desperate to avoid taking responsibility for the deaths caused by their product," Rep. Maloney said, per NBC News.

"It seems to me that if a company really cared that its products were being used to kill scores of Americans, it would stop selling them," Maloney said. "But of course, the gun industry won't do that because they're making lots and lots of money from these weapons."

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magnoliamyrrh · 1 year

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theres something so incredibly wrong w the psyche of the white american male. the mass shootings the school shootings all of it. running on pure entitlement of being both male, white, and being raised in the country with the worlds biggest and most undeserved superiority and ego. may those who died rest in peace; what a pity that we cant go more than a few weeks without some male committing acts of domestic terrorism

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vague-humanoid · 2 years

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smolvenger · 2 years

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Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed, Chapter 5: Yellow Roses

Based off of The Essex Serpent (I would say Fandom but honestly, I love to hate it so here's a Fix It FIc)

Pairing: some Stella/William, mainly Stella/Being Happy, and William/Being Held Accountable and Facing Consequences for Cheating, and eventually Stella/Male OC.

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. Where Stella Ransome, in the midst of devastating heartbreak and a terminal illness, gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: In which a Widow from London and her son arrive in Aldwinter for The Serpent. Stella and William are introduced to her. But Stella begins to feel odd.

Chapter Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Mentions of food, children, religion, mentions of domestic abuse, realistic depictions of corsets, and portrayals of illness. Being Anti William and Anti C*ra so if you like the characters or pairing you have been warned. Divergence from Canon.

Chapter Word Count: 6K (Take a bathroom break)

Ko-Fi Link

A03 Link

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four

“Ye have heard that it was by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery already in his heart.”- Matthew 5: 27-28.

“But if she has no intellectual hold upon her husband’s heart, she must inevitably become that most helpless and pitiable of earthly objects-a slighted wife.”- Sarah Stickney Ellis, from The Women of England: Their Social Duties and Domestic Habits.

I am aware many of you reading this are familiar with the story of The Essex Serpent of Aldwinter. And only a few of you are not. Before I begin the next part, you must be reminded or told of this one fact.

There was no serpent. There never was a serpent.

Despite all our terror at the time, there never was any giant, magical, murderous snake.

No snake killed those bodies.

No snake made Naomi disappear.

Little did we know at the time, we were being afraid of nothing. And what brought her to the town, was nothing.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

To me, her name is too painful to write, much less speak, after what happened. To me, she will always be The Woman. And The Woman she was indeed when she first moved in!

Whenever there is a newcomer, rumors jump around like squirrels. Small towns are especially prone to this when so little happens at a time. I only did what I usually did with newcomers. I would bake my bread. Then I could deliver it as a welcoming present. Especially considering that this was a fellow woman who could be joining our Bible Studies and Sewing circles. No question she would be at church on Sunday. But it was five days until then! She would have to know she was welcome here, most of all by me.

6. Build relationships with women in the church to support, encourage and model Godliness to them.

As I walked down holding the warm pan, Martha passed me and gave me a laugh. Dressed in her walking gown, I noticed a newspaper was tucked under her arm.

“Why, is it for the newcomer? You gave bread to me when I arrived!” she called out.

“Do you…do you know where she lives?” I asked curiously.

I had written down an address on a scrap of paper placed in my pocket, but both of my hands holding a white towel over a hot pan would not grace me with the freedom to retrieve it.

Martha pointed one way and kindly offered to walk me there. We walked up to the little house. I knocked on the door, but there was no response. I knocked again, louder.

“Hello! There’s a visitor!” Martha shouted boisterously.

The only person who opened the door was not a woman, but a young boy. A boy who wasn’t at school. He looked thin and his eyes were wide, his skin sickly pale. Although he looked close to Joanna’s age, he carried himself with an air as if he was far younger with his slumping posture and the way he stared up at us blankly.

“Is your mother here?” I asked warmly.

“My mother’s not here now,” he replied somberly.

“I am Mrs. Stella Ransome; my husband is the vicar of the parish here. I am here to welcome your mother and you to town with this,” I said, offering the bread.

He looked at it and took the pan in his arms, but he did not smile.

“Thank you” he replied quietly.

“Frankie, where is your mother?” Martha asked. “She was here this morning when I spoke to her!”

“She’s off to find the Serpent,” the boy explained.

“And leave you alone? Oh, you poor thing!” I spoke. “Perhaps you should ask your mother to enroll you at school- my own children go there, and they’ll be plenty of other little boys for you to play with! You don’t have to spend all day at home…”

“I’m big enough to be by myself for a little bit, now…” he said.

“And I’m checking in on him, making sure he’s not catching on fire, don’t worry!” Martha added in.

“Oh, well…that is good. You at least can help yourself to some of the bread, Frankie” I said.

“Do make sure you eat that lunch I made you- and Mrs. Ransome was nice enough to give you some bread to go along with it! Have you yet?” Martha asked, placing her arms akimbo.

Frankie shrugged again. He looked down and then back up with no change in his sad, distant face.

“Frankie, I will call on you shortly, and your plate and one slice of that bread should be eaten by now! Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry! Your mother will insist!” Martha scolded.

He closed the door. We walked out into the roads right outside the gate of the house. Out of habit, I looked around the buildings in case anything unusual popped up. Or there were people listening in. But Martha and I were alone.

“She is here for the Serpent?” I asked.

Martha nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, she read our newspaper article and since then, she is obsessed! A most extraordinary, spirited woman, she! She wants to find it…” Martha continued.

“Why?” I asked. “I would want to avoid it.”

The wind blew a little colder. A few orange leaves from the trees fell onto the toes of our shoes. I was shivering inside my coat and scarf.

“For science. She’s a scientist! She loves fossils and history and wants to collect evidence of the serpent, make a name for herself because of it…”

“Why then, that’s very…very noble, I think!” I said.

It was unconventional. I little to never heard of women scientists. She was bound to be quite a character at the Bible Study. Perhaps she would have stories or share a fossil she discovered!

But then again, she was a scientist. She would frown at our Bibles, perhaps, and not participate in our prayers. Perhaps the church was out of the question. I wondered if I would even see her at all.

I did see her. I rushed with my children to church. Happily, we were on time even for Sunday School this time around. As I gathered my own three little ones and walked into the sanctuary, I made my rounds of greetings and chats with the other members.

One gentleman, the local surgeon named Lucas, turned to me with a smile. But today his smile seemed a little too friendly.

“Why, if it isn’t the Fairy Queen of Aldwinter herself!” he greeted.

He leaned forward, eyes shining, and hands in his pockets.

“Thank you, it is good to see you too,” I replied plainly. “And you speak compliments beautifully.”

I turned away promptly but he walked in front of me. His chest was puffed like a rooster.

“And what has the Miss Fairy Queen had next after the service? Plans for the Christmas service and pageant, as per usual from her, hm? Surely, I should be her humble servant and assist her...”

He had quite a nerve, I thought, knowing that my husband was the head of the church and even a few feet away. There was proof of a slight sneeze that echoed off the high ceilings- William was just getting over a cold. But thankfully after three days of me insisting on bedrest and broth, he was well enough to preach.

“I shall tell you what the Fairy Queen shall do after the service, Lucas. She shall l be with her husband,” I said flatly.

He let out an exhale, but his head bowed a little in acknowledgment of fairness. He tried. I gave him no room for encouragement. He respected my refusal. A friend of his, a plump man with a belly and a handlebar mustache tapped over on Lucas’s shoulder. There was a grin on his thin lips.

“Hey…the new woman is here…and she’s a widower too…” he alerted.

Lucas’s head turned and his jaw dropped. Thankfully, he forgot about his brief chase for another hunt!

My eyes followed in curiosity. Could it be? Sure enough, sitting on the pew was Frankie. Next to him was The Woman.

The first thing that struck me was that she was beautiful. Extremely, extremely beautiful. What was most striking was her hair. It was a golden blonde, like the rays of the sun, it was wavy too, making it seem like she glowed. However, although she had put it up like in fashion, strands fell loose around her face and from the style, but never to where it diminished her appearance despite the messiness. In fact, it made her seem romantic and wild. She was slender but still womanly. A straight nose, a creamy, cherubic face, and bright, piercing eyes.

The service began and I took my place again on the first row. William walked up to the pulpit to recite scripture. He spoke with such confidence you would have never known he was sick a few days ago.

“And in the first day there shall be a holy convocation, and in the seventh day there shall be a holy convocation to you; no manner of work shall be done in them, save that which every man must eat, that only may be done of you,” he intoned.

The service began and carried on as usual a parade of hymns, prayers, the choir, the sermon, and so on. I was glad for it again and for having a place to worship and feel refreshed. Even the children seemed calm and more interested today, far from the wailing babies they were in the past. The service ended and I could have my curiosity answered about the newcomer.

10. Stay after service to allow people to get to know you.

Lucas was not the only man affected by her beauty. It seemed nearly every man in the town was coming up to greet her. She would answer politely, if not curtly. I went up to see her, my children nearby, patiently waiting out my rounds of chatting.

“Good day, I wanted to welcome you the other day, but I’m glad you’re here,” I began.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I am Mrs. Ransome, and these are my children:” I reached out an arm to show them “ Joanna, James, and John here.”

Each one politely introduced themselves and she replied. She gave me her name. Right as I was asking and chatting about how she was finding her new home, I noticed that on the collar of her dress, there was a large purple bruise. I kept trying my best to ignore it. But John could not.

“Why…are you alright Did you…did you fall?” he asked, pointing right at it.

She jumped with a slight panic, finding where my eyes looked, and then tugged her collar above to hide the mark. I looked down a little in embarrassment and hissed his name to behave himself. Meanwhile, Frankie’s eyes grew large and he dropped his jaw. The Woman merely steeled herself.

“Yes.” She answered curtly. “Painful.”

My husband joined my side. There was the introduction and small talk. She was finding her situation well here, comfortable, already good friends with Martha, and her research project was now underway. But it was all still very new for her to get used to.

“You should visit our house, we have a leg of mutton and Stella here makes an excellent cook,” he suggested.

“Yes, when are you free? I’m sure the children would like to play too…” I added on.

“That would be nice, thank you. I can visit Tuesday evening.” She replied.

Once it was confirmed, other women would run to me, barraging me with questions.

“Mrs. Ransome, I’m so thrilled to be pregnant, but I feel so awful all of the time, what must I do?”

“Mrs. Ransome, there’s a girl in Sunday School who keeps crying, what must be done about her?”

“Mrs. Ransome, I need help with the laundry with this broken hand, could you help me?”

I excused myself away to give my answers, volunteer my time, and offer what advice I could give.

“If you feel bad about your pregnancy, run a hot bath and ask for tea or hot cocoa and eat some candy, try not to overexert yourself. That must be Emma! She’s very little, she still misses her mother when they’re separated for a minute! Perhaps offer her some water and remind her she’s safe and if not, then maybe she��s still too little for Sunday school and should wait another year. Oh yes, of course, I can help! I can be there this afternoon!”

On Monday, after school hours, Joanna was off with her friends on her bike again with Johnny at her heels. William was writing his next sermon and preferred to be left in peace when doing so. I took little James, and we went to the beach.

It was an overcast day. Despite the chill, the air was sweet with the water and the sand was fresh.

“See there! See the waves, Jim? Aren’t they pretty?” I pointed out.

He squinted his eyes right at them and nodded with a grin. He took two steps towards it, the wind gusting into his face.

“Yes, very!”

We walked together across the beach, pointing at birds and seashells and discussing his day when I saw a huddled figure. At first, I jumped and grabbed onto my son.

“Mama, what is it?” he asked.

When I looked carefully, it was The Woman. She was down on the ground observing the rocks while scribbling notes onto a journal.

I walked up closer to her, greeting “good afternoon!”

“The Same to you!” she replied. Her head turned towards me in acknowledgment and then back to carefully observing the rock in her hand.

“May I ask, what are you doing?” I questioned.

“I’m researching The Serpent, trying to find tracks,” she explained.

The Woman gave the last note with a flourish of her pen, tucking it behind her ear. She began to wipe any sand off her clothes and stood up. But looking at the mid-body of her dress, I let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You…I…I’m so sorry it isn’t polite to say so…” I pleaded, taking one step back.

Even James lifted his face up to mine in curiosity as to why. I tried searching around for something to change the subject quickly. But The Woman took a step closer to me in confrontation.

“Why did you gasp, Mrs. Ransome?” she asked.

A glint in her eyes implied she knew why. And no other subject on the clouds or what her son was up to could possibly distract her.

I clutched a little onto James’s arm. The words stuttering got out of me.

“You…you don’t…you don’t have a…you aren’t wearing a…a..” I tried to gesture to the middle of my body with my free hand.

“A corset, you mean? I’m not wearing a corset?” she said.

“Yes.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows lowered in frustration.

“It’s a torture device that only limits women and how we can move and what we can do. I will not wear one as I am researching! Any modern woman refuses them, and I am such!” she huffed.

She glanced down, noticing I was wearing one. Then she looked up, her shoulders relaxing. She reopened her journal.

“I apologize, I have a lot of feelings regarding corsets,” she said.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Now you must please leave me, I have to finish to see if there are any tracks,” she dismissed.

“Good…. good day to you too,” I said, James and walking away from her.

Now, this was an oddity above all else! Not wanting to wear her corset? Did she not want her back and breasts supported? Did she not want to have her clothes look smooth when she put them on? What about when her unmentionable arrived, did she not want the help with the stomach cramps a corset could give? How did her hips ever fare against the weight of her skirts?

Yes, my own corsets made my posture straight and I could not lean down to touch my toes, but I never felt it restrain my movements. I could still walk about and garden fine enough. I saw women ride bikes down the Aldwinter streets while still in corsets. The one I was wearing that day came from a factory run by Madame Valery. It was a woman-made corset! Wouldn’t Madame Valery herself notice if her creations were too restrictive and uncomfortable?

I wanted to tell The Woman that she could wear one and experiment without trouble. She only had to bend her knees to get down onto the ground to observe something. Did she know that she didn’t have to make the laces to tight when she wore one? She could merely adjust the strings so they would fit her to prevent them from slipping off but still fit. Maybe her mother never taught her how, assuming she had one. Maybe she kept buying ones in the wrong size her entire life! Surely, with the right corset on, she could even face The Serpent if she had to capture it, fight it, or run?

But I knew if I even hinted at it, it would only make The Woman more upset and unease any pleasantness there could be between us.

It seemed perhaps her line was directed at me, maybe insulting me and my own choice to wear one. But I did breach a sensitive subject unknowingly. Maybe I Wasn’t the only one that day who noticed it and asked about it. Maybe she was taking out her anger on me without meaning to.

12. Be a blessing to the women in the church; encourage others to do the same.

I asked God to forgive me and to let me turn the other cheek. It was just a mistake of mine. I didn’t know and now I knew never to bring it up with her.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

There was a large Leg of Mutton I purchased from The Butchers on Saturday. And now on Tuesday, I had to make sure there was enough of it for seven of us, as well as side dishes and dessert. I was up to the challenge.

As the door opened, I was still awaiting the completion of our stone oven on the food. I rushed to greet The Woman and Frankie but then had to promptly return to finish the cooking. Then there were the grilled mushrooms, walnuts, bread, and so on. It was stuffy in the kitchen, yet I rolled up my sleeves and carried on. Thank goodness the oven was well prepared for the Herculean task today. It was just like a normal dinner-with just a little bit more thrown in.

Any loose strands that came from my bun, I tucked into my hair and away. So, help me, neither my husband nor she would think me sloppy and uncomely for one moment. May William always think of me as beautiful and perfect, I hoped! I heard the footsteps of my family as well as that of the dog dashing in and out. Any time I stepped out, I got made sure my hair was neat and got rid of my apron, only to tie it back once I returned.

They were all around the couch, discussing among themselves when I walked in, wiping my hands on my apron.

“Dinner will be ready shortly!” I chirruped.

Once we were all setting plates and silverware, The Woman and Frankie took their seats. Frankie seemed to salivate the plate in front of him. The Woman reached to take the water jug before her.

“We must ask for a blessing first,” I reminded everyone.

She froze for a second. Her arm outstretched her sleeve as she was reaching for the jug of water, and I noticed a bruise on her arm. Eyeing down, she noticed it too and retreated her arm.

From her reaction on Sunday, I decided not to mention anything about it. Perhaps another fall.

My three children, William, and I ducked our heads. The Woman and Frankie paused before they followed us.

‘Oh Lord, we ask you, bless our food and bless our guest. Keep us all safe from the Serpent, amen,” William prayed.

As I began my own plate, James turned to The Woman.

“You’re a widow…right?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed, beginning to dig into her pie. Again, the beautiful golden waves from her head fell in loose strands over her.

“So that means your husband is dead…what was he like?” James asked curiously.

She froze. The fork in her hand turned into a grip.

“He was a horrible, horrible man, and I do not wish to speak of him again, thank you. I am sorry, but I did not like him,” she answered plainly.

Oh.

So that explained the bruises, I thought.

James flinched back in shame. I leaned toward him.

“Just apologize…you didn’t know, darling, it was just a mistake,” I whispered.

James kept his head ducked “I’m…I’m sorry…”

“That’s all right, you didn’t know…thank you for the apology… But…you all begin by praying?” she asked.

The bread plate was passed around. William looked at her with slight half exhale, half laugh.

“Why yes, of course, before every meal…” he explained.

John accidentally knocked over his water. I ran up, napkin flying, to dab away at it and clean him up.

“It’s just not natural for me, to need a blessing just to eat,” The Woman said.

I fled to the kitchen and returned with another glass of water for John.

“It’s a way of giving thanks, showing appreciation,” William said.

Thus, began that dinner conversation. William and The Woman were going back and forth, doing most of the talking for us.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

James let out a small burp. I urged him to say “pardon” and dab his mouth with his napkin.

Joanna then turned her head towards the woman. “Have you found anything out about The Serpent, yet?”

Of course, it would get to the serpent. There was much excitement among the local children concerning it. There was a thrill. It was a wild legend. A scary story told around the fire.

The Woman’s eyes glittered toward her and said “I believe there are some tracks in some of the woods, I’ve found…”

“Our woods?” John asked nervously. “The ones you can see from the attic?”

She turned and matter of fact explained to him, “no, it was not located in close proximity to your house…”

We all went around and spoke about what we thought about it. William said it was a creature of God and had to be seen as such. Joanna said it fascinated her. John said it frightened him. James was awe-struck at it. The Woman gave a whole list of theories that went on for ten minutes. Frankie ate his mutton.

I only said, “I only hope it stays away from us and harms no one.”

Once the meal was finished, the boys brought Frankie upstairs to play in their little hideout in the attic. The Woman, Joanna, and William were at the table. She was telling Joanna all about science and Joanna kept bobbing her head as if hypnotized.

I smiled and decided to finish some chocolate biscuits I began that day. Perhaps even that sad, odd Frankie would enjoy them. Maybe even he would smile and know he had a friend in me and speak in a sentence with more than four words.

As I began to pull them off to cool, I heard Joanna’s footsteps upstairs. The Woman and my husband continued their discussion. As I glanced, despite their opposing opinions, he was smiling.

At least there would be peace and no arguing here! I thought gratefully. With someone so passionate about science staying under a religious house, I feared tempers would flare. But so far, there was no shouting and threats. All was good.

I made sure there was sugar powder dusting on top of the biscuits. Using a knife, I found they were the right crispiness. I took a small bite, and it seemed the right flavor. Content, I placed them on a white plate.

William and The Woman were still talking.

Carrying the plate, I passed them and went upstairs to the attic. Joanna was in her room. She took two biscuits with thanks and went to her bed to eat them while reading.

I brought them then to the attic. Once I arrived, I noticed the “club” was formed. The children loved it as a place to gather when they were all younger. It was set up whenever Club was in session. It was a makeshift tent of old bedsheets against doornails on the wall of the attic. A lamp was used for light inside as they were laughing and playing. Their shadows were flashing against it. James was the first to pop his curly head out of the flap.

“Chocolate! Mummy has chocolate!” he cheered.

The boys ran up, with many thanks (and an actual smile from Frankie!), and started to eat them.

“Would you like any, mama?” John asked.

I looked down. I had to make sure everyone else would have some before I took one. Frankie and John had three each, and James had about four. There were four left.

11. Be consistently humble; appreciating everything while demanding very little.

“No, but thank you, you’re a kind boy, Johnny. I must make sure our guests have some before I do.” I spoke.

Meanwhile, The Woman and William continued their talking downstairs. When the plate went down, they chewed on what was left, so hypnotized by their conversation they didn’t hear me sit on the couch next to them. I placed the dessert plate on the small table. They smiled as thanks and ate the biscuits, still deep in discussion. So much so that they didn’t see that they each ate two. No biscuits were spared for me. I said nothing about it.

That evening, William and I lay in bed. We held each other to the crackling fire. The autumnal chill of the outside seemed to creak into our room.

“Stella, she’s going to help me, and we will search for the Serpent,” he announced,

“Oh, that is good. A team together… should be easier on you. She’s clearly an expert, smart. I couldn’t understand half the scientific words she said. She is quite pretty, too…” I replied.

I laid my head on his chest. I looked up to admire the newest addition to my collection of blue porcelain plates just above it on the mantle. I didn’t see his face.

“Yes, it seems every man in town is mad about her,” he commented.

“Lucas is at her heels,” I commented.

“As a man, it’s hard not to blush when she praises you,” he said.

I turned my face to him with a little laugh.

“Oh…a little infatuation?” I asked.

He returned the laugh.

“Yes, I admit! Nothing more! Do you remember your copy of Pride and Prejudice? Aren’t you still infatuated with Mr. Darcy still? And Heathcliff and Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrers?”

“Yes, I am! Any woman who reads those books keep our little infatuations for those men!” I commented.

Outside we heard the hooting of owls in the night sky.

“You…you are…you are my wife…” he murmured.

“And that I am,” I said. “I may have my infatuation with Colonel Brandon, but when night falls, you are my husband, not he.”

I kissed his cheek and went to sleep, thinking no more of it. My husband is a holy, upright man, I thought. At the end of the day, I was the woman he loved. After all, it was only fair, and I trusted him.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Weeks passed. I felt tired yet planned the Christmas service and pageant. The business of December made it fly past. January came and February was at its end with the promise of March. All that time I was doing my usual duties and the search for the Serpent continued. No actual creature had yet to be found, yet every townsperson was on the edge of their seat.

It was promised to be a long winter. Everything was still cold and grey. I was sweeping away at the floors as the children came home from school. I had felt dizzy and a little out of breath, I paused and held the broom, pressing it down to ground myself. But I was glad to see them. Joanna had several books in her hands. She went promptly into the kitchen.

Johnny looked around and then at me. The dog was on his heels, wagging its tail.

“Mama…where’s papa? He wasn’t at home when I get home from school at all this week…” he asked.

“Papa’s doing something very important. He’s with Frankie’s mother- you know her. Remember?” I explained.

“Yes.”

“They’re out searching for The Serpent, your father’s going to consecrate it,” I explained.

He tilted his head, setting himself on the couch. His legs couldn’t reach the floor and swung a little.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he asked.

4. Encourage his advancements while maintaining the balance of his home and family.

I went over to the couch and smiled.

“I’m not clever enough for the science, I admit. And, well, someone must keep an eye on you three and make sure the home is nice for him when he returns,” I replied.

“If he returns!” John asked nervously.

I clutched his hand.

“Your father is not alone, and he’s a smart man. He will be safe. He will come home…how could he not for you? He loves you so very much. He loves all of us, he won’t throw himself into danger without considering us,” I explained.

“Papa’s hunts with the other men, he should just shoot it!” Johnny said.

“Then tell that to him when he returns!” I suggested, I took my hand and rubbed it through his reddish blonde curls.

I heard a CLANK of a pot falling onto the floor with a “Blast!” from Joanna.

I got up and went into the kitchen. Joanna was moving the pots around and on top of the stove, putting various things inside: salt, water, oil, and so on. Many of our pots and pans were brought out and, on the table, there were some books left open to black and white pictures of thermometers. Joanna poured the water jug into the pot and turned the stove on. She never showed much interest whenever I tried to teach her how to cook!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked up at me with a large smile.

“It’s a science experiment! I’m going to see what happens to these when you boil them!” she said, gesturing to the salt, oil, and flour taken from the pantry.

“For school?”

“No! It’s in these!” she pointed to the books and opened to the illustrations.

“Since when have you gained interest in science experiments?” I asked.

She explained to me that it was The Woman who inspired her. Joanna went on about how smart and incredible The Woman was. How she told her about science and experiments and showed her some of her notes even. That Joanna wanted to be just like her when she became older.

“A scientist! Me! Perhaps even a doctor even…”

“You’ll need to go to university usually to learn how to be one. That’s why there aren’t many women who are those things…” I commented.

She gave me a defiant huff, her eyes forward and determined.

“Then I will become the first woman to do it! Why do we have to have so many choices anyway?” she complained before turning her light head back to the experiments.

“Just leave enough so I can make dinner, at least…” I requested, walking away to finish sweeping.

I will confess, I envied The Woman at that moment. I envied how beautiful she was. How she was getting lines of suitors interested in her while my own admirers before being engaged were only a handful. I envied how much my daughter seemed to genuinely worship her rather than feel a sense of love out of plain duty from familial blood. And I envied her boldness, her courage to discover The Serpent.

The Serpent terrified me from what bits I heard. I thought if I were to encounter it, I wouldn’t stand my ground. I would scream and run away. I would grab my children and take them somewhere safe. I would hide. I felt I couldn’t fight it much less research it. The less I knew the better my peace of mind. Yet The Woman did. She wanted to go out and find it. She knew no such fear. She trusted that her own child was safe at home without fear of anything crawling inside with fangs. If it was a Leviathan in the water, she would dive in and swim after it. She could run about the countryside for hours and do as she pleased.

My thoughts were interrupted as I saw James. He wandered to me with a fistful of a bit of chocolate cake. It was the one I baked today as a birthday gift for Mrs. Elliott. It was to be given at her celebration this evening. I laughed at him and wiped away the mess on his cheeks.

“Would you like any, Mama?” he asked.

“No, thank you…” I spoke.

“You didn’t eat at breakfast…” he commented, tilting his head.

“I wasn’t hungry then, darling, but I assure you, I’m fine…”

Even though I envied the boldness of The Woman, I enjoyed my comfortable life. Despite how much of it I had to do, I enjoyed cooking, cleaning, sewing, mending, knitting, gardening, reading the odd book, collecting my blue items, and pressing my flowers. Despite the effort, it would take, I enjoyed attending church, helping plan its picnics and holidays and classes, rereading the Bible, going to women’s circles with my friends, and visiting the people of Aldwinter. Most beautiful and fulfilling of all was being a part of my beautiful family- three healthy children and a handsome, generous, intelligent, open-minded husband who was my entire world. Perhaps she and I were just different in our tastes of what enriched our lives. That was all.

So, I would pray to God to take care and rid me of my envy. Then I would go outside and finish the laundry.

Many who have already read of me and of what happened will say I am a cautionary tale. I was a walking warning to other women. That everything I did, said, and agreed with was something that any woman should not do or else share the fate written about me. Then there were others, and these consisted of my elders, family, and my peers at the time, who would hail me as a Perfect Woman. That I was the Saintliest wife and mother who lived and breathed.

And there are times thinking of this that I wonder, how was it I became both?

When I returned home from the celebration and went upstairs, William was writing at his desk.

“Is it the next sermon?” I asked.

He placed an arm over his papers and turned to me.

“No…it’s a letter about what I have found out about The Leviathan,” he explained.

He said that he was writing to The Woman about a verse he discovered in Psalm 104. He was going to let her know that perhaps The Serpent was The Leviathan and if so, that meant it was a creature that remained strictly in the sea.

“If it is strictly a sea creature, then we will know what it is, and we can warn others not to go swimming there…” he expanded.

“That would be good- the mystery will finally be solved. I still think about the book you told me about writing the first day we met, Will! I think would love it and you always had a gift with the written word. They’d have to publish you, William, they must!” I encouraged him, kissing the top of his curly head.

He smiled up at me from his chair, his arm still blocking the letter. He turned around to complete some more as I took off my coat, hat, and gloves and rested on the chair near the fire. Today the walk to Mrs. Elliott’s house and back felt tiring. I found myself trying to exhale deeper as I sat in my chair.

William turned around, scratched at his beard, and looked at me with worried eyes.

“Stella…you seem a little out of breath….” He mused.

“The party was exciting, and the walk was long, but that was all!” I assured him.

When I woke up the next day, although I knew I slept well, I realized I felt sweaty and exhausted. William was not usually an early riser and dozed contently beside me. As he wished me goodbye to head off for Church and Serpent-related duties, I realized that I had no appetite for Breakfast again.

I mustered myself to eat some fruit and boiled eggs, but I started to cough throughout the meal. The coughing continued throughout the day. And the next.

Then, finally, one day, as I was wiping off the dust from surfaces at home, another fit of coughing began. But my chest was tightened with a stabbing pain. The room spun. My legs felt very weak and were shaking. I kept coughing into my sleeve. I tried to go over to get the drawer in the parlor cabinet for a handkerchief, but it only made the dizziness worse.

My legs gave in, and I fell onto the floor. The room kept spinning, the coughs kept coming and I pulled my sleeve into my mouth to block it. All the while my chest kept hurting. My arms were wobbly as I tried to help myself up and failed to.

When I removed my sleeve from my mouth, there was blood.

I heard someone scream before everything went black.

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paperbag1999 · 2 years

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I feel as though the sensationalized court trial, the public humiliation, the deeply conservative public response to Amber Heard really resembles what happened with Jussie Smollett. Whether or not you believe them, these cases have allowed bigoted think tanks and conservative media to sink their teeth in to an “unlikeable” marginalized person (Jussie being painted as greedy, opportunistic, and lying while Amber is labeled as histrionic, gold-digging, and conspiring) and use them as fuel for their reactionary politics. YOU may see this as a case of a man being abused getting justice (although Amber has provided enough evidence to show that labelling herself as a domestic violence survivor is a fact) or as a person ruining the name of people who genuinely are hurt by hate crimes. But the story being constructed and fed to millions via conservative media and the bots they purchase is this: women, gay people, black people, trans people have Too Much power, their influence is ruing the lives of innocent people (rich white straight men), and that Action Must Be Taken to damper the reign of terror. It is to paint all accusations, all complaints of violence misogyny homophobia and racism as made by opportunistic people who want to hurt the “real victims”. But to think of how these individuals have been treated by the media as ANYTHING close to building a world of justice is borderline insane. To the Republic House committee posting Jack Sparrow gifs, to Candace Owens, to The Daily Wire and Ben Shapiro, ANY, ANY complaint, accusation, threat to White Heterosexual Male Supremacy is too much.

#also #I personally do not find amber unlikeable #additionally this is a narrative being pushed by terre #that trans activists have somehow gone too far when #the vast majority of trans people are impoverished marginalized and face violence

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coochiequeens · 2 years

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A man who literally attacked women’s access to healthcare is now identifying as trans

A trans-identified male who led a far-right militia to commit a number of sexist and racist crimes has been sentenced to 14 years on assorted domestic terrorism charges. The sentence comes in addition to the 53 years he was already serving for his role in a Mosque bombing.

Hari, a former Sheriff’s deputy, was responsible for establishing right-wing militia group known as the Patriot Freedom Fighters, later re-named to the White Rabbits.

Hari, along with the small group, began engaging in criminal activity in 2017 with the intention of carrying out acts of domestic terrorism. In August of that year, Hari’s group set an improvised incendiary device near the Imam’s office of the Dar-al Farooq Islamic Center. One of Hari’s associates, Micheal McWhorter, would later confirm the purpose of the attack was to “scare Muslims out of the United States.” No one was injured in the attack.

In November of 2017, Hari and his ‘militia’ targeted the Women’s Health Practice in Champaign, Illinois, where they threw a pipe bomb into the building. The bomb did not detonate and was found by a receptionist of the clinic who called police to

safely extract the device from the facility.

Shortly after, Hari tried to frame another individual for the crimes, but the effort would only lead to Federal Investigators more easily tracking him and the members of his militia down.

Hari and his colleagues were ultimately arrested, and, in 2021, Hari was sentenced to 53 years for his role in the Dar al-Farooq bombing.

On July 11, Hari was sentenced to an additional 14 years on a number of other charges related to his domestic terrorist activity after pleading guilty to the charges in February. According to a release by the Department of Justice, Hari was sentenced for threats of violence, attempted arson, unlawful possession of a machine-gun, and unlawful possession of a firearm as a felon. The sentence will be

served concurrently, meaning the maximum time he will serve is still 53 years.

During his trial, it was revealed that Hari identified as a transgender ‘woman.’ While leading the White Rabbit militia, he had been searching terms such as ‘sex change,’ ‘transgender surgery,’ and ‘post-op transgender’ on the internet. Hari allegedly planned on fleeing to Thailand to get ‘gender affirming’ surgeries.

Hari had previously asked the court to take his gender dysphoria into consideration, and made a request for an amended Federal prison placement based on his identity. The details of his request were placed under a seal and the presiding Judge stated he would defer to the Bureau of Prisons to make the final call.

While Hari does not currently appear in any inmate registry, recent amendments to the Bureau of Prison’s transgender housing policy made since Hari’s initial sentencing indicate a strong possibility that Hari is currently incarcerated in a women’s prison.

On January 13, the Bureau of Prisons re-issued its Transgender Offender Manual, which included guidelines previously scrubbed by the Trump administration with respect to gender self-identification for federal inmates.

Under Trump, housing based on biological sex alone was taken into consideration for offender housing, but the revised policies stated that a transgender inmate’s “personal safety” was a priority.

The guidelines also stated that ‘misgendering’ inmates was expressly forbidden, and that prisons must provide cosmetic surgeries, sex hormones, and brassieres for men who claim to identify as transgender.

The Bureau of Prisons houses roughly 155,554 inmates at 122 facilities around the U.S. Of these, the agency estimates that approximately 1,300 self-declare a transgender status.

Prior to his involvement with the White Rabbit group, Hari had a criminal history which included abducting his own daughters. In 2006, Hari was sentenced to 30 months probation for kidnapping his two children and taking them to a Mennonite colony in Belize. At the time, he said he would only return them to their mother if they were sent to appear on Dr. Phil.

Both the Department of Justice and media reports about Hari’s sentencing uniformly referred to him as a ‘woman.’ The Wikipedia page on the Dar al-Farooq bombing has similarly removed references to Hari being male, and instead refers to him by feminine pronouns.

By Lavy Shwan Lavy is a writer and social media content creator at Reduxx. A refugee from Iraq, she currently lives in the United States, where she immerses herself in Marxist and feminist theory, and advocates for women's rights.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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This day in history

#20yrsago Creative Commons Emerging Tech conference demo with Lisa Rein, Matt Haughey and Aaron Swartz https://memex.craphound.com/2002/05/16/creative-commons-demo/

#20yrsago Creative Commons is live https://web.archive.org/web/20020602032039/http://www.creativecommons.org/

#15yrsago Amazon to launch DRM-free music service https://web.archive.org/web/20070518145626/http://biz.yahoo.com/bw/070516/20070516005337.html

#10yrsago Reflections on the acquittal of Byron Sonne https://web.archive.org/web/20120519073309/http://www.openfile.ca/toronto/toronto/text/byron-sonne-found-not-guilty-all-charges-has-plans-future

#10yrsago How Mitt Romney “created jobs” https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Elections/President/2012/0119/Is-Mitt-Romney-really-a-job-creator-What-his-Bain-Capital-record-shows

#10yrsago Clay Shirky on the relationship between physical space and creativity https://vimeo.com/41492835

#10yrsago Unpacking privilege: straight white male is the lowest difficulty setting in the game of life https://whatever.scalzi.com/2012/05/15/straight-white-male-the-lowest-difficulty-setting-there-is/

#10yrsago Police loom over Byron Sonne’s victory party https://twitter.com/_fx_/status/202638857248837632

#5yrsago The strange, mutating story of “willpower” and what we think it might be as of right now https://nautil.us/against-willpower-5776/

#5yrsago America’s top cop-killing domestic terror threat is far-right “sovereign citizens” and militias https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/may/15/sovereign-citizens-rightwing-terrorism-hate-us-government

#1yrago Who owns the covid vaccines: Socializing risk and privatizing gain for fun and profit https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/16/entrepreneurial-state/#patient-zero-money

#pluralistic

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