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iwanthermidnightz · 6 months

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When I was 24 I sat in a backstage dressing room in London, buzzing with anticipation. My backup singers and bandmates gathered around me in a scattered circle.Scissors emerged and I watched in the mirror as my locks of long curly hair fell in piles on the floor. There I was in my plaid button down shirt, grinning sheepishly as my tour mates and friends cheered on my haircut. This simple thing that everyone does. But I had a secret. For me. It was more than a change of hairstyle. When I was 24. I decided to completely reinvent myself.

How does a person reinvent herself, you ask? In any way I could think of. Musically, geographically, aesthetically, behaviorally, motivationally. And I did so joyfully. The curiosity I had felt the first murmurs of while making red had amplified into a pulsing heartbeat of restlessness in my bars. The risks I took when I toyed with pop sounds and sensibilities on red? I wanted to push it further. The sense of freedom I felt when traveling to big bustling cities? I wanted to live in one. The voices that had begun to shame me in new ways for dating like a normal young woman? I wanted to silence them.

You see, in the years preceding this, I had become the target of slut shaming, the intensity and relentlessness of which would be criticized and called out if it happened today. The jokes about my amount of boyfriends. The trivialization of my songwriting as if it were a predatory act of a boy crazy psychopath. The media co-signing of this narrative. I had to make it stop because it was starting to really hurt.

It became clear to me that for me there was no such thing as casual dating, or even having a male friend who you platonically hang out with. If I was seen with him, it was assumed I was sleeping with him. And so I swore off hanging out with guys, dating, flirting, or anything that could be weaponized against me by a culture that claimed to believe in liberating women but consistently treated me with the harsh moral codes of the Victorian era.

Being a consummate optimist, I assumed I could fix this if I simply changed my behavior. I swore off dating and decided to focus only on myself, my music, my growth. And my female friendships. If I only hung out with my female friends, people couldn't sensationalize or sexualize that, right? I would learn later on that people could and people would.

But none of that mattered then because I had a plan and I had a demeanor as trusting as a basket of golden retriever puppies. I had the keys to my own apartment in New York and I had new melodies bursting from my imagination. I had Max Martin and Shellback who were happy to help me explore this new sonic landscape I was enamored with. I had a new friend named Jack Antonoff who had made some cool tracks in his apartment. I had the idea that the album would be called 1989. And we would reference big 80's synths and write sky high choruses. I had sublime, inexplicable faith and I ran right toward it, in high heels and a crop top.

There was so much that I didn't know then, and looking back I see what a good thing that was. This time of my life was marked by right kind of naïveté, a hunger for adventure. And a sense of freedom I hadn't tasted before. It turns out that the cocktail of naïveté, hunger for adventure and freedom can lead to some nasty hangovers, metaphorically speaking. Of course everyone had something to say. But they always will. I learned lessons, paid prices, and tried to… don't say it don't say it. I'm sorry, I have to say it. Shake it off.

I’ll always be so incredibly grateful for how you loved and embraced this album. You, who followed my zig zag creative choices and cheered on my risks and experiments. You, who heard the wink and humor in "blank space" and maybe even empathized with the pain behind the satire. You, who saw the seeds of allyship and advocating for equality in "Welcome to New York". You, who knew that maybe a girl who surrounds herself with female friends in adulthood is making up for a lack of them in childhood (not starting a tyrannical hot girl cult). You, who saw that I reinvent myself for a million reasons, and that one of them is to try my very best to entertain you. You, who have had the grace to allow me the freedom to change.

I was born in 1989. Reinvented for the first time in 2014, and a part of me was reclaimed in 2023 with the re-release of this album I love so dearly.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine the magic you would sprinkle on my life for so long. This moment is a reflection of the woods we've wandered through and all this love between us still glowing in the darkest dark.

I present to you, with gratitude and wild wonder, my version of 1989.

It’s been waiting for you.

#taylor swift #1989 taylor's version #1989 tv #1989 tv prologue

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 4 months

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Merry Christmas

Christmas 2023 (Krampus x GN!Reader)

Chains and Whips

CW: Non-con, dub-con, bondage, anal, sadism, monster fucking, mild brat training, bratty reader, pain play, breaking and entering

"So... He's, like, a demon?" (Reader) took another sip of their cocoa while giving their friend a half jokingly judgemental look, squinting their eyes over their oversized mug. For the holidays (Reader) found themselves with nowhere to go, and ended up traveling with their best friend to her hometown. It was a tiny little place, cute, and very strange. (Reader) had, of course, heard about Krampus before but only because of B-rated horror movies, so seeing an entire village of people hanging up pictures of him alongside Santa Claus was a culture shock, to say the least. Stranger than the abundant Krampus merch was the fact that everyone spoke of it with respect, as though the creature was real, a respect not given to Santa.

"Well, no, kinda, but no." Johanna flicked her wrist as she spoke, eyes glazed and unfocused in the warmth of the heated living room. "Krampus is older than Saint Nicholas and Christianity."

It was difficult to stay awake, all bundled up under a mountain of blankets while the TV quietly played a movie in the background. Snow was falling outside, while children played in the setting sun, laughing outside Johanna's window.

"So, does he kidnap naughty children?"

"No, he beats them with a stick." She tiredly waved her hand in a whipping motion to illustrate her point, as though (Reader) didn't know what she meant by "beating".

"That sounds horrifying." (Reader) smiled, chuckling. Their eyelids were beginning to glue themselves shut.

"Yeah. During Krampusnacht boys like to dress up as him and try to scare people. I used to be terrified of him." Johanna rolled over and propped herself up, resting her head on her hand while sprawling out further on the warm couch across (Reader) on the adjacent lounge. "Thank God I was such a good kid!" She said cheekily.

(Reader's) grin grew. "Should I be in trouble then?"

"Why?"

"Because I'm naughty." (Reader) joked, wiggling their shoulders comically.

The young woman sat up. Her face had flipped instantly from silly to frustrated, swapping from a sleepy gaze for furrowed brows. "That's not funny, (Reader)."

Shocked by Johanna's sudden seriousness, (Reader) sat up as well, doubling down on the joke. "Should probably lock your door tonight, to keep me safe."

"Stop!" She whined, looking genuinely nervous.

"What?" (Reader) leaned forward, amused by their friend's reaction. "Are you really scared?"

"Yes!"

"Scared he's going to come punish me?"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Krampus is real."

(Reader) wanted to push their friend a little further. This was the first time they had ever seen Johanna act in such a way. Johanna was a fearless woman, a badass who was a regular ole adrenaline junkie; the kind of person to jump out a plane without hesitation. And here she was, losing her patience over a mythological creature.

The dramatic young adult launched themselves off the couch and towards a window, swaying their hips theatrically. They threw open the window as far as it could go, cupping their mouth to amplify their voice out into the neighborhood, moaning;

"Oh no! I hope some big, hairy, Krampus doesn't come and punish me for being such a naughty little whore!"

"(Reader)!"

"Please, don't come punish me for being such a tight little cum slut!" (Reader) laughed as Johanna grabbed their arm, now giggling as well, albeit more out of nerves than honest joy.

"(Reader), please! I'm serious!" Johanna closed the window, forgetting to lock it as she was too busy looking over her shoulder at her ridiculous friend. "I swear to God, if I have to wake up in the middle of the night to save your life..!"

(Reader) wasn't done being obnoxious, shaking their ass as they pretended to run away in fear. "Oh no! Don't let him spank me! Oh noooo!"

Johanna grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at (Reader's) head hard enough to make them lose their balance. "You would get fucking wrecked by Krampus."

"Yeah, my ass-"

"Wouldn't even last a second. You would lose a fight against a marshmallow, you aren't going to go up against an ancient being worshipped for centuries."

After falling back onto the couch (Reader) had chosen for their sleeping spot, they rolled their eyes, dropping the act. (Reader) wasn't actually a naughty person. Not only were they not "naughty" in the innocent definition of the word, being the kind of person to return other shoppers' carts they refused to put away themselves, but in the dirty sense they weren't particularly "naughty" either. (Reader) wasn't a virgin, just suffering from a dry spell. "Goodnight, Jojo."

"Goodnight! I set my alarm for five.'

"Ew!"

"I'll see you in the morning!"

"Nooooooo....."

Johanna left (Reader) for her childhood bedroom, leaving (Reader) in the dark living room, not entirely alone.

.........................

(Reader) wasn't asleep for long when the room became too unbearably cold, causing pins and needles in their legs that forced them to stand up. The time on their phone informed (Reader) that it was only one in the morning. They bundled up in the blanket Johanna provided and slipped into the kitchen to make a cup of decaf tea.

'Why's it so cold?' (Reader) shivered violently as they waited for the water to warm up enough for their drink. It was so warm before (Reader) passed out, that if the Christmas lights on the tree weren't still on they would have thought that there was a power outage. The water loudly began to sizzle in the electric kettle, making (Reader) panic, turning it off. They would have felt like shit if they accidentally woke up Johanna. Her grandparents were out of town, opting to go on a cruise during the holidays instead of hanging around in the cold to visit family, which (Reader) respected. They deserved to enjoy their retirement. Although they had never met, the older couple offered (Reader) their room, which (Reader) politely declined. Although (Reader) said that it was to respect their privacy, it was actually because (Reader) just didn't feel comfortable sleeping in someone else's bed.

The mug began to smell like tea instead of hot water as the bag steeped. (Reader) drank quickly, eager to warm up and get back to sleep. They peaked over at the clock on the oven.

1:00

It had taken almost ten minutes to make one cup of tea, but the time was still one am.

(Reader) felt a shiver crawl down their spine.

Before they could wrap their mind around the time, a rough hand with long, sharp nails, clasped over (Reader's) mouth, dragging them off the chair. The mug went flying, shattering against the tile flooring, along with the wooden chair tipping over and loudly clattering.

Despite the struggle and muffled screams, Johanna did not come down to (Reader's) rescue.

The lights that had been strung up on the tree were tied around (Reader's) arms, securing their hands behind their back. (Reader) fell unceremoniously to their knees.

Above them stood a giant shape in the dark. A tattered red cloak, chains and hooks, black fur..

Hooves sunk into the carpet of the living room. Black fur covered the majority of it's exposed body, and the skin that wasn't hairy was a dark grey with black discoloration. Large horns rose from his skull like a crown. His long, almost human face held a twisted smirk, split open just enough to show off his rows of sharp teeth. Within his primate sockets were goat like eyes, yellow and glowing in the dark.

Despite the heat of the bulbs pressed against (Reader's) arms, the terrified person felt colder than before.

Krampus.

He bent down, gently pressing his clawed thumb into (Reader's) mouth, rubbing his bitter tasting finger across their tongue as (Reader) sat shell shocked.

'He's real.'

(Reader) felt as he played with the wet insides of their mouth, only breaking out of their trance when his nail poked the sensitive wall of their inner cheek.

A surprised cry echoed throughout the house, earning a hand grabbing a fistful of (Reader's) hair, yanking their head back warningly. (Reader) bit down on the disgusting tasting hand as harshly as they could, but it only resulted in an amused chuckle. The creature's laugh was deep, rumbling like thunder in his chest.

He released (Reader) and effortlessly pulled his thumb out from their teeth. One of the many chains with hooks was uncoiled from the demon's shoulder and thrown to his cloven feet.

"Hey, wait-!" (Reader) protested as they were lift up and placed on their feet with only one hand. Their pajama bottoms were pulled down around their ankles, taking their underpants with them. "Stop!"

The hook Krampus had prepared was picked back up, the stench of his body becoming overwhelming as he engulfed (Reader) in his arms, jangling the chain behind their back as he prepared something.

"I don't know what you are, but I swear to God, I'm going to start screaming rape if you don't stop! The neighbors will call the cops!" (Reader) didn't know what they were saying, the adrenaline spike forcing out tough sounding sentences that made no sense, given the fact that this wasn't a normal human home invader.

Another rumble rolled throughout his rib cage as something cold violated (Reader's) ass. (Reader) involuntarily screamed as the hook was lodged into their anus.

They tried to fall to the floor, allowing their legs to turn to jelly, but Krampus tugged on the chain above them, forcing them up onto their toes. Their hands were still tied behind their back, so their balance was depended entirely on the chain.

Krampus seemed pleased, looking down at the teary little human.

(Reader) was not on the naughty list.

They had always been a good person, mindful of others and always attempting to do what was right. So when they opened the window that night, releasing their scent and calling out to Krampus, he knew what they were really implying.

A long, pink cock slick and shiny in the multicolor glow of (Reader's) bindings emerged from the black mass of fur between his animalistic legs. It was thin, but it continued emerging, revealing itself to almost be the length of his thigh.

He grabbed (Reader's) hair again, forcefully pushing their upper half down, bending them at their waist. They couldn't fall because of the chain still holding (Reader) up. The hand on (Reader's) head shoved their face down to his crotch, slipping his slimy cock between their lips as they begged him to stop. Like a sword, the long penis went down their throat, rubbing against their uvula, and poking into their stomach. Vomit rose and threatened to choke (Reader), coughing it up around his thin cock that smelled like his fingers.

(Reader) tried to straighten their back to pull his dick out of their body, but the Krampus yanked up on the hook while laughing, causing (Reader) to fall forward back onto his dick as their feet lost contact with the ground.

The chain was given some slack, placing (Reader) back onto their toes. They were able to pull off his dick long enough to release the bile onto his thighs. It was still in their mouth, but at it's thin tip, allowing (Reader) the chance to breathe. Then he pulled up again, ramming (Reader) onto him like some kind of pulley operated sex toy.

(Reader) felt their muscles burn as their face was mercilessly fucked by the monster, bobbing their head up and down his shaft by the chain still attached to (Reader's) ass.

Krampus dropped the heavy metal chain to grab (Reader's) head, slapping his heavy balls against their chin as his fucking became more erratic, smashing their nose into his thick fur as his chuckles turned to deep moans and pants. Then, (Reader's) face was held against his pelvis tightly as painfully hot fluid shot straight into their stomach.

He pulled out slowly, still twitching with little pumps of cum as he slid the cock out of their throat and over their tongue.

(Reader) left their mouth open, feeling the smelly fluid drip off their tongue and onto the floor, hoping they would vomit up the rest of his jizz they were forced to drink. The appearance of (Reader) with sticky white drool still connected in a long string to the tip of his hard cock, along with the pathetic little sniffles they made as tears dribbled down their cheeks, excited Krampus more, encouraging him to continue.

Still coughing up the suffocating muck, (Reader) was hoisted into the air, this time not by the hook that had fallen out of their rear, but but the Christmas lights around their midsection.

Suspended above the ground, (Reader) frantically kicked their legs. Krampus held the back of the bindings of their arms with one clawed fist, exposing themselves to him. A foot made contact with his knee in the struggle, but Krampus didn't flinch, completely unfazed by (Reader's) strength.

"No more! Fucking stop!" (Reader) squealed in desperation. They knew he could see how aroused they had become from this angle. (Reader) couldn't see his face, but knew he was smirking at them like the bastard he was. They didn't want to, but their body couldn't help it. It felt good to be fucked.

It had been a long time since (Reader) had had sex, but even longer since they had been fucked.

His still wet member pried open (Reader's) clenched hole. It wasn't painful, with how thin it was, but it kept going in, deeper, and deeper. It hit the point where a large human cock would have stopped, but the monster didn't seem to care for (Reader's) discomfort, forcing himself all the way in. (Reader) didn't even know how they fit all that dick inside of them. But the moment they felt his hot hips grind against their ass, their eyes fluttered.

Unable to touch the ground, (Reader) was held up by the Krampus' left hand and his erection. The lights dug into their ribs painfully, scraping against them as Krampus used the decoration as a harness. His thrusts were fast and hard, just like when he was raping (Reader's) mouth. He went deeper into their slutty hole than anyone ever had before, forcibly giving (Reader) unwanted pleasure.

"H- Help!" (Reader) shakily whined as they fought against how good his slimy inhuman dick felt as he pounded them from behind. Each snap of his hips hit their nerves better than any man had before. The building tightness was eroding (Reader's) will to fight.

'This isn't morally wrong.. right?'

'It's like a dream.. no one judges you for who you fuck in a dream you can't control..'

Their stomach contracted as their orgasm built, threatening to release. But just as (Reader) was about to finish, Krampus ceased his movements, holding them unbearably still against him.

(Reader) involuntarily whined. The climax slowly dissolved, losing the momentum. "Please let me go.."

Something hard painfully slapped their ass, cracking loudly like a riding crop. (Reader) cried out before they could bite their lip, earning another chuckle from the goat man as he continued dicking them down from behind.

Just as (Reader) tried to hush the sounds of enjoyment singing out from their own mouth, another slap from the wood stung their rippling ass cheek as Krampus buried his cock into them.

The rising orgasm built faster this time, causing (Reader) to shake as though they were helping rock themselves onto Krampus' long dick. Their thighs quivered and their breaths became ragged. Each thrust was alternated with a stinging whack to (Reader's) behind. And each time that wood contacted sharply against their skin, (Reader) was brought closer to the edge.

But again, he stopped, only keeping himself in as (Reader) lost their orgasm. They moaned angrily.

It seemed obvious that (Reader) was enjoying this, so why did he keep stopping?? Embarrassment filled (Reader) up and spilled out as tears and a cock hungry sob. "Please.." (Reader) squeezed their eyes shut in shame. "Please finish up.."

"Be more specific." A frighteningly deep voice rumbled from behind (Reader). "What do you want me to do, naughty little whore?"

Precum leaked down (Reader's) legs. "Please let me cum.."

The switch smacked them harder. "What was that?"

"Please let me cum!" (Reader) felt themselves tightening around his dick as they raised their voice. "Please fuck me stupid! I want to cum!"

Another harsh slap earned a gasp from (Reader), urging them to continue begging.

"Please fuck me!"

He laughed quietly while pulling (Reader) up so they could see his face. His dick was still buried deep inside of them as he gazed down at them with predatory eyes. "What a good little slut.."

His lips smashed against (Reader's) forcing his tongue into their kiss as he resumed his assault on their tired, raw genitals. (Reader) returned the kiss just as desperately as Krampus gave it. Their kissing made (Reader) light headed as his ramming cock fucked them past the point of no return.

(Reader) came loudly at the same time as Krampus shot another round into their greedy fuck hole. Even after his seed spilled out he continued pumping, slapping his wet hips up against (Reader's) as he rode out his second orgasm. He kept his cock nestled deep inside (Reader) as they passed out, falling asleep in his arms as he weakly continued rubbing himself against their twitching walls.

(Reader) woke up in the morning on the couch, their clothes on and bundled up in a warm blanket. Johanna was awake, making coffee. Their face burned, wondering what they could have eaten the night before to make them dream about something so dirty, and so vividly.

"You awake yet?"

(Reader) quickly sat up, sore, presumably from sleeping on a couch. "Yeah, I'm getting up."

They stood, but almost immediately felt their knees buckle as cum poured out of them into their pants so quickly (Reader) thought they pissed themselves. (Reader) squawked, pulling open their bottoms to find their underwear missing, and the insides of their pants painted with someone else's fluids, still leaking out of their swollen hole.

"Haha, what was that?" (Reader) quickly pulled up their pants as their friend entered the living room with the mug (Reader) broke the night before.

"Nothing."

"You sure? You look kinda feverish.."

"I'm good!"

"I was just thinking about how to get on the naughty list again next year~"

#merry christmas #yandere #yandere monster #monster fuckers #christmas 2023 #krampus #Krampus x reader #gn reader #cw noncon #cw dubcon #brat reader #mild brat taming #yandere monster x reader #happy holidays #yandere x reader #christmas

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leviathanspain · 2 years

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more than she could handle

daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader, aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

synopsis: your little brother catches you with your uncle, and wants a piece of you too

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

aemond stared at the way her body moved. she was clutching at the collar of daemon’s shirt, her face was the image of pain and pleasure mixed as daemon’s hand furiously drove into her cunt.

aemond could feel himself grow tighter in his breeches, and as she finally caught her release, aemond stifled a grown as she screamed in pleasure.

even hidden behind the shadows, she saw him. saw his one eye, glaring back at her and his sneer as he trailed her body with his eye.

she tapped her uncle, and they both saw aemond, who left fleetingly, leaving the cold pit of anxiety in her belly, replacing the pleasure that was once bestowed upon her.

she avoided him like the plague. his mother was already a good enough excuse and buffer to keep the siblings away from her, but she knew she couldn’t last it out.

good thing her sister had come to visit their dying father, but daemon had made her aware that viserys would call for a family dinner, where she’d be unable to avoid the glare from her little brother.

she didn’t know him at all. aemond was a mystery to her, and more so since she’d grown up away from kings landing. she traded places with her sister, whom she made a deal with to never leave their father with the hightower hellhounds. but the days increasingly got harder, especially when the hightowers try to marry her off, to any and every suitor that happens to stumble by.

having an affair with her uncle was something she had least expected. she knew of her feelings for him since his days as the rogue prince, but they became amplified when he finally gave her the attention she had begged for. his wife had died, laena, who you didn’t know at all either, but daemon didn’t waste time in moving on.

“dear sister,” aemond called for her as she swallowed thickly, turning to face him with a smile, “what were you and uncle studying in the library? something…to your pleasure?” he was evil. she wanted to scoff and promptly tell him to mind his business but all eyes were on her end of the table, and even daemon, who held a neutral expression, had anxiety that just rolled off of him.

she nodded, “why yes, aemond, daemon was actually helping me study high valyrian, especially since no one else speaks it with me.” she took a jab to alicent’s children. they would never be true targaryens, not as long as they continued down this path their monstrous mother had forged for them.

aemond pursed his lips, and she smiled coyly, “you should’ve joined us. im sure we could teach you a couple things about our culture.”

aemond looked down at his plate, “oh, im sure you would.”

dinner had been an entire fluke. everyone giving drunken toasts and trying to have a sense of community was laughable. she retired to bed early, and hadn’t been expecting anyone to come knocking on her door this late at night.

“it’s aemond.” the voice was quiet, and she got up, curious to the nature of this visit. she smoothed her nightgown down and cracked her knuckles nervously, opening the door to find aemond scraping his nails with a dagger.

“yes?” she asked him, and looked out past him to see her knight at the door, guarding it quietly. aemond looked at her, the way she defensively guarded the door made him smile.

“im here to take you up on the offer of being taught the culture.” aemond was completely serious it seemed, and as disgusted she wanted to be, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt in her stomach. it wasn’t like her uncle, who she grew up around. aemond was just a man who happened to be her fathers son.

aemond could see the certainty in her face for he rushed forward and kissed her roughly, pawing at her nightgown. she gave into the kiss, a moan as he picked her up and walked her to the bed. aemond had bed many women before, he knew exactly how to fuck her the way he knew she wanted.

she clawed at his leather clothing, kissing him more as her body begged for more.

aemond gave it to her completely, fucking her roughly, leaving rips in her nightgown and marks on her body, she was a canvas and aemond was painting her.

she sobbed in pleasure under him, he had given her more than she could handle and she knew, aemond would never give this up.

aemond kissed her gently now, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, and aemond knew he had to have her forever, she was going to be his, even if he had to kill his uncle to get to her.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #house of the dragon smut #daemon targaryen smut #aemond targaryen smut

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chronicallycouchbound · 9 months

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Internalized Ableism As Means For Unhoused Survival

We need to dissect the cultural context of homelessness as it relates to disability. I’ve spent most of my life unhoused, while also being a disabled person who didn’t have a clear understanding that I was disabled, and both of these experiences had huge impacts on my experiences of ableism, especially internalized.

It needs to be understood that it’s not always rooted in internalized ableism for someone to not identify as disabled, especially regarding physical disabilities. Including choosing to hide disability, pain, or weakness. It also includes choosing not to use mobility aids or other assistive devices that could, in theory, be helpful for their day-to-day life. Instead, they grit their teeth through the pain or find alternatives to manage. This is akin to (and may overlap with) autistic masking.

Being on the streets comes with a culture that allows for strength to often guarantee safety. The ability to physically defend yourself, carry your belongings, withstand harsh weather, use survival expertise, etc. are often necessary skills. Showing weakness is vulnerability. Vulnerability allows for situations where you are more likely to be targeted because attackers can recognize your difficulties and take advantage of them. This danger is amplified if you are a part of other marginalized groups.

When I was a young queer and trans person growing up on the streets, my homelessness was inextricably linked to those experiences. If I were to seem like I was disabled, I was putting myself in a more vulnerable position. Once I started using mobility aids on the streets, I experienced significantly more dangerous situations than I had before. I faced more direct physical violence and threats as a result of it. It wasn’t just me fearing that I might face judgment for being visibly disabled, it was that I was facing real-world repercussions, both within the unhoused and housed community. I was targeted by housed people frequently due to the inherent publicity of unhoused experiences.

Unhoused people spend significantly more time in public. As a currently unstably housed person, but housed nonetheless, I have the privilege of privacy for my pain. I can crawl in my apartment freely without anyone literally kicking me while I’m down. I can scream, I can sob, I can dissociate, I can do whatever I need to, with or without aids, and not face violence from the people around me.

I also have access to more supportive aids just by having housing. I now have in-home care attendants, something that was impossible without a home. I have a bed I can rest in at any time. I have a microwave for hot pads. I have a bathroom. I have electricity. I have food. These things were never guaranteed while unhoused and disabled. Unsurprisingly, I have significantly fewer emergency room trips, unmanageable flares, missed doctor appointments, etc. now that I have even unstable housing.

When you have more time in the public eye, there are more opportunities for facing ableism and houseism from the general populace. Those two experiences intertwined, and being chronically homeless, led to me having to navigate internalized ableism as a survival skill because there was a direct link to the ableism I faced daily.

Some disabled people on the streets, especially if they can’t hide their disability, feel more pressure to present themselves as inspiration porn. Inspiration porn panders to ableist narratives about disabled experiences, and can even give you an edge while panhandling. It also acts as a protective factor, there’s a mindset that if you’re not held back by disability, then you are not disabled. Thus, your disability cannot be exploited by others, and you are just as strong as a physically abled person. It’s something we do because we have to in order to survive, whether or not we’re conscious of the ableist narratives we’re feeding into.

There are times when I have to choose to do actions that are more harmful for me, such as presenting as more abled, for my immediate safety. I have to weigh the risks, and often, the risk of being attacked is far greater than the risk of falling, fainting, or being injured. This is not internalized ableism, it isn’t subconscious, it is for protection. Presenting as disabled is difficult enough, but when other marginalizations are added to it, it is exponentially more dangerous. Even more so than it is for me to not use aids or to not accept help at times.

If I wasn’t able to be recognized as disabled, I was granted more privileges akin to those my able-bodied peers automatically receive. If a bathroom wasn’t accessible for me, but I did my best with it instead of asking for accommodations (which is often seen as being picky, needy, or ungrateful) then I was more likely to be allowed to use that bathroom again. The same goes for couch surfing at a friend's house, needing to carry everything I own up three flights of stairs, if I didn’t mention that it was difficult for me or said no to help, then I was being a good guest by not making my hosts uncomfortable. Making concessions like this whenever I could gave me more access to safety.

When my disabilities became more serious, and I wasn't able to keep making concessions, I would fall in that bathroom, I would faint on the stairs, and I immediately was more unsafe. I couldn’t hide my disability anymore, the choice was taken from me. No amount of pandering to abled people would make me able to do those things anymore. For me, that felt like a personal failure. I had been told my whole life that I could and should push through my disabling symptoms and conditions, and I took that as fact. Not being able to do that was a heavy and horrifying feeling for me.

It’s taken years (and is an ongoing process) to find safe enough spaces where I can ask for help. Where I can freely use mobility aids, show my actual pain, wear braces, wear compression garments, cry, rest, and otherwise exist as my disabled self without being harmed. It’s taken equally as long (and is still ongoing) to find grace within myself and advocate for the accommodations I need and actually use them. I still struggle with the pressure to feed into inspiration porn, something that the cripple reclamation movement is focused on deconstructing. I struggle with accepting help, asking for help, or even looking like I might need help. But I also recognize that beautiful things can happen when I get what I need.

It heals internalized houseism to be dismantling my internalized ableism, and vice versa.

Unhoused disabled people are allowed to be weak. Unhoused disabled people are allowed to cry, to scream, to be in pain, to ask for help. Unhoused disabled people are allowed to be human, just like everyone else.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Denazification, truth and reconciliation, and the story of Germany's story

Germany is the “world champion in remembrance,” celebrated for its post-Holocaust policies of ensuring that every German never forgot what had been done in their names, and in holding themselves and future generations accountable for the Nazis’ crimes.

All my life, the Germans have been a counterexample to other nations, where the order of the day was to officially forget the sins that stained the land. “Least said, soonest mended,” was the Canadian and American approach to the genocide of First Nations people and the theft of their land. It was, famously, how America, especially the American south, dealt with the legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Silence begets forgetting, which begets revisionism. The founding crimes of our nations receded into the mists of time and acquired a gauzy, romantic veneer. Plantations — slave labor camps where work was obtained through torture, maiming and murder — were recast as the tragiromantic settings of Gone With the Wind. The deliberate extinction of indigenous peoples was revised as the “taming of the New World.” The American Civil War was retold as “The Lost Cause,” fought over states’ rights, not over the right of the ultra-wealthy to terrorize kidnapped Africans and their descendants into working to death.

This wasn’t how they did it in Germany. Nazi symbols and historical revisionism were banned (even the Berlin production of “The Producers” had to be performed without swastikas). The criminals were tried and executed. Every student learned what had been done. Cash reparations were paid — to Jews, and to the people whom the Nazis had conquered and brutalized. Having given in to ghastly barbarism on an terrifyingly industrial scale, the Germans had remade themselves with characteristic efficiency, rooting out the fascist rot and ensuring that it never took hold again.

But Germany’s storied reformation was always oversold. As neo-Nazi movements sprang up and organized political parties — like the far-right Alternative für Deutschland — fielded fascist candidates, they also took to the streets in violent mobs. Worse, top German security officials turned out to be allied with AfD:

https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/2018/08/04/germ-a04.html

Neofascists in Germany had fat bankrolls, thanks to generous, secret donations from some of the country’s wealthiest billionaires:

https://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/billionaire-backing-may-have-helped-launch-afd-a-1241029.html

And they broadened their reach by marrying their existing conspiratorial beliefs with Qanon, which made their numbers surge:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/how-fringe-groups-are-using-qanon-to-amplify-their-wild-messages

Today, the far right is surging around Europe, with the rot spreading from Hungary and Poland to Italy and France. In an interview with Jacobin’s David Broder, Tommaso Speccher a researcher based in Berlin, explores the failure of Germany’s storied memory:

https://jacobin.com/2023/07/germany-nazism-holocaust-federal-republic-memory-culture/

Speccher is at pains to remind us that Germany’s truth and reconciliation proceeded in fits and starts, and involved compromises that were seldom discussed, even though they left some of the Reich’s most vicious criminals untouched by any accountability for their crimes, and denied some victims any justice — or even an apology.

You may know that many queer people who were sent to Nazi concentration camps were immediately re-imprisoned after the camps were liberated. Both Nazi Germany and post-Nazi Germany made homosexuality a crime:

https://time.com/5953047/lgbtq-holocaust-stories/

But while there’s been some recent historical grappling with this jaw-dropping injustice, there’s been far less attention given to the plight of the communists, labor organizers, social democrats and other leftists whom the Nazis imprisoned and murdered. These political prisoners (and their survivors) struggled mightily to get the reparations they were due.

Not only was the process punitively complex, but it was administered by bureaucrats who had served in the Reich — the people who had sent them to the camps were in charge of deciding whether they were due compensation.

This is part of a wider pattern. The business-leaders who abetted the Reich through their firms — Siemens, BMW, Hugo Boss, IG Farben, Volkswagon — were largely spared any punishment for their role in the the Holocaust. Many got to keep the riches they acquired through their part on an act of genocide.

Meanwhile, historians grappling with the war through the “Historikerstreit” drew invidious comparisons between communism and fascism, equating the two ideologies and tacitly excusing the torture and killing of political prisoners (this tale is still told today — in America! My kid’s AP history course made this exact point last year).

The refusal to consider that extreme wealth, inequality, and the lust for profits — not blood — provided the Nazis with the budget, materiel and backing they needed to seize control in Germany is of a piece with the decision not to hold Germany’s Nazi-enabling plutocrats to account.

The impunity for business leaders who collaborated with the Nazis on exploiting slave labor is hard to believe. Take IG Farben, a company still doing a merry business today. Farben ran a rubber factory on Auschwitz slave labor, but its executives were frustrated by the delays occasioned by the daily 4.5m forced march from the death-camp to its factory:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farben

So Farben built Monowitz, its own, private-sector concentration camp. IG Farben purchased 25,000 slaves from the Reich, among them as many children as possible (the Reich charged less for child slaves).

Even by the standards of Nazi death camps, Monowitz was a charnel house. Monowitz’s inmates were worked to death in just three months. The conditions were so brutal that the SS guards sent official complaints to Berlin. Among their complaints: Farben refused to fund extra hospital beds for the slaves who were beaten so badly they required immediate medical attention.

Farben broke the historical orthodoxy about slavery: until Monowitz, historians widely believed that enslavers would — at the very least — seek to maintain the health of their slaves, simply as a matter of economic efficiency. But the Reich’s rock-bottom rates for fresh slaves liberated Farben from the need to preserve their slaves’ ability to work. Instead, the slaves of Monowitz became disposable, and the bloodless logic of profit maximization dictated that more work could be attained at lower prices by working them to death over twelve short weeks.

Few of us know about Monowitz today, but in the last years of the war, it shocked the world. Joseph Borkin — a US antitrust lawyer who was sent to Germany after the war as part of the legal team overseeing the denazification program — wrote a seminal history of IG Farben, “The Crime and Punishment of I.G. Farben”:

https://www.scribd.com/document/517797736/The-Crime-and-Punishment-of-I-G-Farben

Borkin’s book was a bestseller, which enraged America’s business lobby. The book made the connection between Farben’s commercial strategies and the rise of the Reich (Farben helped manipulate global commodity prices in the runup to the war, which let the Reich fund its war preparations). He argued that big business constituted a danger to democracy and human rights, because its leaders would always sideline both in service to profits.

US companies like Standard Oil and Dow Chemicals poured resources into discrediting the book and smearing Borkin, forcing him into retirement and obscurity in 1945, the same year his publisher withdrew his book from stores.

When we speak of Germany’s denazification effort, it’s as a German program, but of course that’s not right. Denazification was initiated, designed and overseen by the war’s winners — in West Germany, that was the USA.

Those US prosecutors and bureaucrats wanted justice, but not too much of it. For them, denazification had to be balanced against anticommunism, and the imperatives of American business. Nazi war criminals must go on trial — but not if they were rocket scientists, especially not if the USSR might make use of them:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wernher_von_Braun

Recall that in the USA, the bizarre epithet “premature antifascist” was used to condemn Americans who opposed Nazism (and fascism elsewhere in Europe) too soon, because these antifascists opposed the authoritarian politics of big business in America, too:

https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/premature-antifascist-and-proudly-so/

When 24 Farben executives were tried at Nuremberg for the slaughter at Monowitz, then argued that they had no choice but to pursue slave labor — it was their duty to their shareholders. The judges agreed: 19 of those executives walked.

Anticommunism hamstrung denazification. There was no question that German elites and its largest businesses were complicit in Nazi crimes — not mere suppliers, but active collaborators. Antifacism wasn’t formally integrated into the denazification framework until the 1980s with “constitutional patriotism,” which took until the 1990s to take firm root.

The requirement for a denazification program that didn’t condemn capitalism meant that there would always be holes in Germany’s truth and reconciliation process. The newly formed Federal Republic set aside Article 10 of the Nuremberg Charter, which would hold all members of the Nazi Party and SS responsible for their crimes. But Article 10 didn’t survive contact with the Federal Republic: immediately upon taking office, Konrad Adenauer suspended Article 10, sparing 10 million war criminals.

While those spared included many rank-and-file order-followers, it also included many of the Reich’s most notorious criminals. The Nazi judge who sent Erika von Brockdorff to her death for her leftist politics was given a judge’s pension after the war, and lived out his days in a luxurious mansion.

Not every Nazi was pensioned off — many continued to serve in the post-war West German government. Even as Willy Brandt was demonstrating historic remorse for Germany’s crimes, his foreign ministry was riddled with ex-Nazi bureaucrats who’d served in Hitler’s foreign ministry. We still remember Brandt’s brilliant 1973 UN speech on the Holocaust:

https://www.willy-brandt-biography.com/historical-sources/videos/speech-uno-new-york-1973/

But recollections of Brandt’s speech are seldom accompanied by historian Götz Aly’s observation that Brandt couldn’t have given that speech in Germany without serious blowback from the country’s still numerous and emboldened antisemites (Brandt donated his Nobel prize money to restore Venice’s Scuola Grande Tedesca synagogue, but ensured that this was kept secret until after his death).

All this to say that Germany’s reputation as “world champions of memory” is based on acts undertaken decades after the war. Some of Germany’s best-known Holocaust memorials are very recent, like the Wannsee Conference House (1992), the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe (2005), and the Topography of Terror Museum in (2010).

Germany’s remembering includes an explicit act of forgetting — forgetting the role Germany’s business leaders and elites played in Hitler’s rise to power and the Nazi crimes that followed. For Speccher, the rise of neofacist movements in Germany can’t be separated from this selective memory, weighed down by anticommunist fervor.

And in East Germany, there was a different kind of incomplete rememberance. While the DDR’s historians and teachings emphasized the role of business in the rise of fascism, they excluded all the elements of Nazism rooted in bigotry: antisemitism, homophobia, sectarianism, and racism. For East German historians, Nazism wasn’t about these, it was solely “the ultimate end point of the history of capitalism.”

Neither is sufficient to prevent authoritarianism and repression, obviously. But the DDR is dust, and the anticommunism-tainted version of denazification is triumphant. Today, Europe’s wealthiest families and largest businesses are funneling vast sums into far-right “populist” parties that trade in antisemitic “Great Replacement” tropes and Holocaust denial:

https://corporateeurope.org/sites/default/files/2019-05/Europe%E2%80%99s%20two-faced%20authoritarian%20right%20FINAL_1.pdf

And Germany’s coddled aristocratic families and their wealthy benefactors — whose Nazi ties were quietly forgiven after the war — conspire to overthrow the government and install a far-right autocracy:

https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/25-suspected-members-german-far-right-group-arrested-raids-prosecutors-office-2022-12-07/

In recent years, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about denazification. For all the flaws in Germany’s remembrance, it stands apart as one of the brightest lights in national reckonings with unforgivable crimes. Compare this with, say, Spain, where the remains of fascist dictator Francisco Franco were housed in a hero’s monument, amidst his victims’ bones, until 2019:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pedro_S%C3%A1nchez#Domestic_policy

What do you do with the losers of a just war? “Least said soonest mended” was never a plausible answer, and has been a historical failure — as the fields of fluttering Confederate flags across the American south can attest (to say nothing of the failure of American de-ba’athification in Iraq):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De-Ba%27athification

But on the other hand, people who lose the war aren’t going to dig a hole, climb in and pull the dirt down on top of themselves. Just because I think Germany’s denazification was hobbled by the decision to lets its architects and perpetrators walk free, I don’t know that I would have supported prison for all ten million people captured by Article 10.

And it’s not clear that an explicit antifascism from the start would have patched the holes in German denazification. As Speccher points out, Italy’s postwar constitution was explicitly antifascist, the nation “steeped in institutional anti-fascism.” Postwar Italian governments included prominent resistance fighters who’d fought Mussolini and his brownshirts.

But in the 1990s, “the end of the First Republic” saw constitutional reforms that removed antifascism — reforms that preceded the rise of the corrupt authoritarian Silvio Berlusconi — and there’s a line from him to the neofascists in today’s ruling Italian coalition.

Is there any hope for creating a durable, democratic, anti-authoritarian state out of a world run by the descendants of plunderers and killers? Can any revolution — political, military or technological — hope to reckon with (let alone make peace with!) the people who have brought us to this terrifying juncture?

[Image ID: The Tor Books cover for ‘The Lost Cause,’ designed by Will Staehle, featuring the head of the snake on the Gadsen ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ flag, shedding a tear.]

Like I say, this is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about — not just how we might get out of this current mess, but how we’ll stay out of it. As is my wont, I’ve worked out my anxieties on the page. My next novel, The Lost Cause, comes out from Tor Books and Head of Zeus in November:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

Lost Cause is a post-GND utopian novel about a near-future world where the climate emergency is finally being treated with the seriousness and urgency it warrants. It’s a world wracked by fire, flood, scorching heat, mass extinctions and rolling refugee crises — but it’s also a world where we’re doing something about all this. It’s not an optimistic book, but it is a hopeful one. As Kim Stanley Robison says:

This book looks like our future and feels like our present — it’s an unforgettable vision of what could be. Even a partly good future will require wicked political battles and steadfast solidarity among those fighting for a better world, and here I lived it along with Brooks, Ana Lucía, Phuong, and their comrades in the struggle. Along with the rush of adrenaline I felt a solid surge of hope. May it go like this.

The Lost Cause is a hopeful book, but it’s also a worried one. The book is set during a counter-reformation, where an unholy alliance of seagoing anarcho-capitalist wreckers and white nationalist militias are trying to seize power, snatching defeat from the jaws of the fragile climate victory. It’s a book about the need for truth and reconciliation — and its limits.

As Bill McKibben says:

The first great YIMBY novel, this chronicle of mutual aid is politically perceptive, scientifically sound, and extraordinarily hopeful even amidst the smoke. Forget the Silicon Valley bros — these are the California techsters we need rebuilding our world, one solar panel and prefab insulated wall at a time.

We’re currently in the midst of a decidedly unjust war — the war to continue roasting the planet, a war waged in the name of continuing enrichment of the world’s already-obscenely-rich oligarchs. That war requires increasingly authoritarian measures, increasing violence and repression.

I believe we can win this war and secure a habitable planet for all of us — hell, I believe we can build a world of comfort and abundance out of its ashes, far better than this one:

https://tinyletter.com/metafoundry/letters/metafoundry-75-resilience-abundance-decentralization

But even if that world comes to being, there will be millions of people who hate it, a counter-revolution in waiting. These are our friends, our relatives, our neighbors. Figuring out how to make peace with them — and how to hold their most culpable, most powerful leaders to account — is a project that’s as important, and gigantic, and uncertain, as a just transition is.

Next weekend, I’ll be at San Diego Comic-Con:

Thu, Jul 20 16h: Signing, Tor Books booth #2802 (free advance copies of The Lost Cause— Nov 2023 — to the first 50 people!)

Fri, Jul 21 1030h: Wish They All Could be CA MCs, room 24ABC (panel)

Fri, Jul 21 12h: Signing, AA09

Sat, Jul 22 15h: The Worlds We Return To, room 23ABC (panel)

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/19/stolpersteine/#truth-and-reconciliation

[Image ID: Three 'stumbling stones' ('stolpersteine') set into the sidewalk in the Mitte, in Berlin; they memorialize Jews who lived nearby until they were deported to Auschwitz and murdered.]

#pluralistic #stolpersteine #historians' dispute #Historikerstreit #nazis #godwin's law #mussolini #berlusconi #italy #antifa #fascism #history #truth and reconciliation #the lost cause #denazification

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sissiaimee1988 · 2 months

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I apologize on behalf of those who have perpetuated such harmful actions and attitudes towards women. I recognize that the marginalization and subjugation of women is an ongoing issue that has pervaded societies for centuries and has caused immeasurable pain and suffering. I acknowledge the need to take responsibility, not only for the actions of individuals but also for the structures and attitudes that enable and encourage misogyny, sexism, and the objectification of women.

I understand the importance of listening to and amplifying women's voices, helping to build and participate in safe spaces for them, and working towards the eradication of gender bias and prejudice in all areas of life. I pledge to reject all forms of toxic masculinity and to work towards creating a more inclusive, equal, and just society where all people are respected and treated with dignity and fairness.

Over the centuries, males and patriarchal systems have inflicted various forms of harm upon women, including but not limited to:

1. Violence: Women have been subjected to physical, emotional, and sexual violence by men, including domestic violence, rape, sexual assault, and harassment.

2. Discrimination: Women have been discriminated against in various areas of life, including education, employment, politics, and the legal system.

3. Objectification: Women have been objectified by men, reducing them to mere sexual objects and devaluing their worth as human beings.

4. Stereotyping: Women have been stereotyped by men and society, limiting their opportunities, and denying them equal representation and participation in various fields.

5. Marginalization: Women have been marginalized and excluded from decision-making processes, perpetuating gender inequality and limiting their power and influence.

These harmful actions and attitudes have caused immeasurable pain and suffering for women, undermining their overall well-being and hindering their ability to live fulfilling lives. It is crucial to acknowledge and address these issues to create a more equitable and just society for all.

Patriarchal systems have inflicted various forms of harm on women, including but not limited to:

1. Economic exploitation: Patriarchal systems have often excluded or discouraged women from participating in the workforce, resulting in lower pay, limited job opportunities, and lack of access to economic resources.

2. Political disenfranchisement: Patriarchal systems have often excluded women from political decision-making, resulting in limited representation and opportunities for women to voice their concerns and needs.

3. Social marginalization: Patriarchal systems have often perpetuated gender stereotypes that limit women's participation and representation in social spheres such as education, media, and entertainment.

4. Sexual and gender-based violence: Patriarchal systems have often enabled and normalized sexual harassment, assault, and gender-based violence against women, perpetuating a culture of victim-blaming and silencing.

5. Health disparities: Patriarchal systems have often limited access to reproductive health services, resulting in increased maternal mortality rates and limited access to medical care.

These forms of harm have perpetuated gender inequality and oppression, preventing women from reaching their full potential and living fulfilling lives. It is crucial to recognize and address these issues to create a more equitable and just society for all.

Patriarchal systems have perpetuated sexual and gender-based violence against women in various ways, including:

1. Blaming the victim: Patriarchal systems often place the blame on the victim of sexual assault or harassment rather than the perpetrator, perpetuating a culture of victim-blaming and silencing.

2. Normalizing violence against women: Patriarchal systems often normalize violence against women in the media, entertainment industry, and other social spheres, desensitizing people to the severity and impact of this violence.

3. Perpetuating gender stereotypes: Patriarchal systems often perpetuate gender stereotypes that portray men as dominant and aggressive and women as submissive and passive, enabling and justifying sexual violence against women.

4. Limiting access to justice: Patriarchal systems often limit women's access to justice by creating patriarchal judicial systems that do not take into account the lived experiences and needs of women.

5. Enabling cultural practices that are harmful to women: Patriarchal systems often enable harmful cultural practices such as female genital mutilation, forced marriage, and honor killings, which perpetuate gender-based violence against women.

It is essential to recognize and challenge these harmful practices and attitudes to create a safer and more equitable society for women. This can involve education and awareness-raising campaigns, legislative changes, and policy reforms, among other measures.

Cultural biases can affect women's ability to access justice in patriarchal systems in various ways, including:

1. Stereotyping of women: Cultural biases in patriarchal systems often perpetuate gender stereotypes that portray women as weaker, less credible, and less deserving of justice than men. These attitudes can affect how women are perceived by law enforcement officials, judges, and other justice system participants.

2. Blaming the victim: Cultural biases can also lead to a culture of victim-blaming, where women who have experienced gender-based violence are blamed for their own victimization instead of holding the perpetrator accountable. This can discourage women from reporting crimes or pursuing legal action.

3. Failure to recognize women's rights: Cultural biases in patriarchal systems can also lead to a failure to recognize women's rights, including their right to equal protection under the law and their right to be free from discrimination and violence. This can make it difficult for women to access justice and to have their voices heard in the justice system.

4. Lack of representation: Cultural biases can lead to a lack of representation of women in positions of power in the justice system, including law enforcement, the judiciary, and legal professions. This lack of representation can affect how women are treated and the extent to which their experiences are understood and taken into account.

5. Cultural practices: Cultural practices such as honor killings or forced marriage can affect how women are treated in the justice system. These practices often prioritize the interests of families or communities over those of individual women, which can limit women's ability to access justice.

It is essential to recognize and address these cultural biases to promote gender-sensitive justice systems that take into account the lived experiences and needs of women. This can involve education and awareness-raising campaigns, as well as legal and policy reforms to promote gender equality and women's rights.

The lack of representation of women in positions of power in the justice system can affect the treatment of women in various ways, including:

1. Limited understanding of women's experiences: Men who dominate decision-making positions in the justice system may not have a full understanding of women's experiences with gender-based violence and other issues that disproportionately affect women. This can lead to a lack of empathy and understanding for women seeking justice.

2. Stereotyping of women: Without adequate representation of women in positions of power in the justice system, gender stereotypes can go unchallenged, perpetuating harmful attitudes that can negatively impact women seeking justice. For example, male judges or law enforcement officials may be more likely to stereotype women as "overemotional" or "hysterical" and less likely to believe them when they report gender-based violence.

3. Lack of role models: The lack of women in positions of power in the justice system can also limit opportunities for women to advance in their careers and can discourage women from pursuing careers in the legal profession. This can create a cycle of limited representation, where women are underrepresented at all levels of the justice system.

4. Narrow perspectives: The lack of representation of women in positions of power in the justice system can lead to a narrow focus on issues that affect men more than women. This can lead to a lack of attention to issues such as reproductive rights, domestic violence, and sexual harassment.

It is essential to promote gender equality and increase the representation of women in positions of power in the justice system to ensure that women's needs and experiences are taken into account and that their voices are heard. This can involve policies and programs aimed at increasing the representation of women in the legal profession, as well as training and awareness-raising campaigns for law enforcement officials and judges.

There are several steps that can be taken to address a lack of understanding, empathy, and sensitivity towards women in positions of legal and judicial decision-making in a systematic and institutionalized way, including:

1. Education and Training: Educational and training programs can be developed for judges, prosecutors, and other legal professionals to increase their understanding of gender-based violence, gender stereotypes, and the impact of cultural biases on women's access to justice. This can help to develop empathy, understanding, and sensitivity towards women's experiences.

2. Gender-sensitive Case Management: Legal institutions can incorporate gender-sensitive case management practices to ensure that women's experiences are taken into account in legal proceedings. This can include measures such as gender-sensitive questioning, evidence collection, and case preparation.

3. Gender Mainstreaming: Gender mainstreaming involves analyzing policies, programs, and practices through a gender lens to ensure that they are responsive to the needs and experiences of women. Legal institutions can integrate gender mainstreaming into their programming to ensure that policies and practices are gender-sensitive and that women's experiences are taken into account.

4. Representation: Efforts must be made to increase the representation of women in positions of power in the legal system. This can involve policies and programs aimed at recruiting and promoting women in the legal profession, as well as awareness-raising campaigns and advocacy to address gender bias in legal institutions.

5. Collaboration with Civil Society: Legal institutions can work in collaboration with civil society organizations and women's groups to promote gender-sensitive legal processes and practices. Civil society organizations can provide support services to women seeking legal redress for gender-based violence, and they can advocate for changes in legal institutions to address gender bias and promote gender equality.

Institutionalizing these steps and implementing them consistently would help to address the lack of understanding, empathy, and sensitivity towards women in positions of legal and judicial decision-making in a systematic and long-term way.

There are several strategies that can be used to increase the representation of women in the legal system, including:

1. Mentorship and Networking: Mentorship programs can be developed to provide guidance and support to women who are entering the legal profession. Networking opportunities, such as events and conferences, can also be organized to connect women with other professionals in the field.

2. Flexible Work Arrangements: Offering flexible work arrangements, such as part-time or remote work, can help to accommodate women's caregiving responsibilities and make it easier for them to balance work and family responsibilities.

3. Recruitment and Retention Policies: Legal institutions can adopt recruitment policies that prioritize diversity and inclusion, including the hiring of women and other underrepresented groups. Retention policies that support the advancement of women within the legal profession can also help to promote gender diversity.

4. Gender Sensitivity Training: Legal institutions can provide gender sensitivity training to staff and leadership to increase awareness of the issues facing women in the legal system and to promote a culture of inclusion and respect.

5. Addressing Gender Bias: Legal institutions can take concrete steps to address gender bias, including the implementation of policies that promote equal pay, the elimination of gender-based discrimination, and the promotion of diversity and inclusion.

6. Advocacy: Women's groups, civil society organizations, and legal professional associations can advocate for gender equality in the legal system by raising awareness of the issues facing women and advocating for policy changes that promote gender diversity and inclusion.

By implementing these strategies, legal institutions can work towards increasing the representation of women in the legal system and creating a more gender-diverse and inclusive legal profession.

There are several strategies that can be used to increase the representation of women in the legal system, including:

1. Encouraging Women to Pursue Legal Careers: This can be done by providing mentorship and networking opportunities, offering internships and scholarship programs, and engaging with women's groups and organizations to promote legal careers to young women.

2. Addressing Gender Bias: Legal institutions can take concrete steps to address gender bias, including the implementation of policies that promote equal pay, the elimination of gender-based discrimination, and the promotion of diversity and inclusion.

3. Promoting Work-Life Balance: Offering flexible work arrangements, such as part-time or remote work, can help to accommodate women's caregiving responsibilities and make it easier for them to balance work and family responsibilities.

4. Supporting Women in Leadership Roles: Legal institutions can provide support and development opportunities for women in leadership roles, including mentorship, training, and networking opportunities.

5. Advocacy: Women's groups, civil society organizations, and legal professional associations can advocate for gender equality in the legal system by raising awareness of the issues facing women and advocating for policy changes that promote gender diversity and inclusion.

6. Policies to Retain Women in the Legal Profession: Legal institutions can adopt retention policies that support the advancement of women within the legal profession, including offering professional development opportunities, establishing a diverse and inclusive workplace culture, and providing family-friendly policies and benefits.

By implementing these strategies, legal institutions can work towards increasing the representation of women in the legal system and creating a more gender-diverse and inclusive legal profession.

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laurancezvahlslefteyebrow · 5 months

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real quick! i just wanna make a post about how scar runes and rune tattoos work in my mcd au/rewrite

ok so, as i said before, rune scars and tattoos work very differently: this is kind of a lot of reading but i promise it’s worth it just gimme a chance please 😭 🙏🏻

Scar Runes are meant to amplify one’s own magicks and magical abilities. They cannot be stacked, meaning all Scar Runes on a person’s body must be for the same ability and they must be the same rune in order to work properly. The more Scar Runes a person has, the more powerful that ability. They never fade but they can be corrupted or “killed” altogether if each rune is scratched out. They can be placed on any part of the body but the magic is most potent when the scars are located on the face. Scar Runes are illegal in most places, and outlawed in all of Ru’Aun as they can be used for very dangerous things… like shadow knights…

Rune Tatoos are different.. Rune Tattoos are used to bestow a magical ability or new magicks to a person, often referred to as a “rune gift”. Scar Runes can be used to amplify the gifts given by a tattoo. Because they are able to give a person an entirely new ability and magicks, they are often given at a very young age so that said person is able to learn to use their new abilities as they grow. Unlike Scar Runes, Rune Tattoos can be stacked. A person can have up to 3 (5 if they are extremely strong both physically and mentally) different Rune Tattoos at once, each for a different ability. Rune Tattoos can also be placed on any part of the body, but are most potent when placed on the limbs, notably the hands and feet. These tattoos never fade but can be scratched out similarly to the scars, though this is significantly more difficult and known to cause excruciating pain. Rune Tattoos are an illegal practice in most parts of the world and in almost all parts of Ru’Aun. However, they were not illegal in the village of Zerimar (something i will make a separate post on later..)

Now onto the cultural aspects:

Scar Runes were given to Lady Irene in order to enhance her already existing abilities. Many people of her time tried to mimic this. Some became dangerously powerful and others simply did it improperly and bled out. Scar Runes must be given by someone well versed in said practice, usually a witch, shaman, or warlock.

The people of Zerimar used Rune Tattoos as a part of their culture. At birth, they would be given a name that pertains to the ability their parents would like them to possess, they would then be given their Rune Tattoo by either a witch, shaman, or warlock in their naming ceremony.

Now, when a shadow knight is created, they are given a Rune Tattoo on each of their palms. This tattoo grants them their shadow knight abilities. After doing so, they are given their Scar Runes to enhance these abilities (unfortunately it does not enhance any already existing magicks a person may have). The scars, often called “The Tears” or “Shadow Tears” are given to them by something called “The Claw”, a magical staff with an end similar to Katelyn’s gauntlets.

Because the Divine Warriors were each given theirs abilities, unlike Irene, they all had Rune Tattoos as opposed to Irene’s scars.

i just spent half an hour typing all this please give me validation

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harmonyhealinghub · 7 months

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Honouring Truth and Reconciliation Day: Remembering the Importance of Orange Shirt Day

Shaina Tranquilino

September 30, 2023

In recent years, there has been a growing recognition of the importance of truth and reconciliation in acknowledging and healing the wounds caused by historical injustices. Canada's Truth and Reconciliation Day, recognized on September 30th annually, serves as a crucial reminder that understanding our past is essential for building a more inclusive and harmonious future. In conjunction with this day, Orange Shirt Day stands as a poignant symbol of remembrance and reflection concerning the devastating impacts of residential schools. This blog post aims to shed light on both events' significance and highlight why they deserve our attention.

1. Understanding Truth and Reconciliation:

Truth and Reconciliation Day holds immense value as it acknowledges the painful history experienced by Indigenous peoples in Canada due to colonization policies such as the Indian Residential Schools system. The objective is not only to remember but also to foster an environment where dialogue, empathy, and understanding can flourish between Indigenous communities and non-Indigenous Canadians.

2. Recognizing Orange Shirt Day:

Orange Shirt Day complements Truth and Reconciliation Day by focusing specifically on raising awareness about residential schools' traumatic legacy. Initiated by Phyllis Webstad's story when her new orange shirt was taken from her upon arrival at a residential school, this day reminds us of the countless children who were stripped of their culture, language, identity, dignity, and familial bonds.

3. Learning Lessons From Our Past:

By commemorating these days collectively, we acknowledge that recognizing historical wrongs paves the way for healing intergenerational trauma. It prompts us to reflect on how similar systemic injustices persist today within various societal structures—education systems, healthcare disparities, judicial processes—among others.

4. Promoting Education & Awareness:

Educating ourselves about Indigenous history should extend beyond one designated day or month; however, Truth and Reconciliation Day provides an opportunity for all Canadians to engage in learning about the diverse cultures, traditions, and contributions of Indigenous peoples. It encourages us to become active participants in reconciliation efforts by challenging stereotypes and fostering inclusive spaces.

5. Fostering Reconciliation:

Reconciliation is a journey that involves listening, understanding, respect, and dismantling systemic barriers. On this day, let's strive for meaningful reconciliation by recognizing the rights of Indigenous peoples and promoting their self-determination while building bridges between communities based on mutual trust and understanding.

Truth and Reconciliation Day signifies an essential step towards healing historical wounds, acknowledging past injustices, and promoting unity among Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities. Together with Orange Shirt Day, it reminds us that we must confront uncomfortable truths if we genuinely seek reconciliation in our society. Let us embrace these days as opportunities to learn from our history, amplify Indigenous voices, work towards positive change, and build a future where cultural diversity thrives within an atmosphere of truth, compassion, justice, and respect for all.

#truth and reconciliation day #orange shirt day #every child matters #end colonialism #healing generations #honouring survivors #indigenous rights #residential school legacy #remembering the children #reconciliation journey #justice for all

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crippl-hacker · 3 months

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Let's review the manifesto for Cripple Punk again! [Addressing the discourse]

With all of the discourse I see about who is/can identify with Cripple Punk or Cpunk I think it's time to take some time to reaffirm the basics and take some time to shine a spotlight on the Madpunk movement.

You can find the original manifesto here but I copied it down below

principles of cripple punk: -cripple punk is exclusively by the physically disabled for the physically disabled -cripple punk is about solidarity & is open to all physically disabled people -cripple punk rejects pity, inspiration porn, & all other forms of ableism

-cripple punk rejects the “good cripple” mythos. cripple punk is here for the bitter cripple, the uninspirational cripple, the smoking cripple, the drinking cripple, the addict cripple, the cripple who hasn’t “tried everything”

-cripple punk fights internalized ableism & fully supports those struggling with it

-cripple punk respects intersections of race, culture, gender, sexual/romantic orientation, size, intersex status, mental illness/neuroatypical status, survivor status, etc.

-cripple punk recognizes that there is no one universal disabled experience

-cripple punk does not pander to the able bodied

———————— other rules:

-cripple punk is not conditional on things like mobility aids & “functioning levels”

-always listen to those w/ different physical disabilities & different intersections than yourself. do not speak over them

-disabled people do not need to personally identify w/ the words “cripple” or “punk” individually to be a part of cripple punk

-able bodied people wishing to spread the message may only ever amplify the voices of the disabled

-able bodied people may never use uncensored slurs themselves but never censor our language

-able bodied people must always tag things like reblogs with “i’m able bodied”

-physically disabled people wanting to be a part of the movement who are uncomfortable using the slur may refer to it as “cpunk”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thing is that there *is* an intersection between mental disabilities and physical disabilities but they are very different in my personal experience. That doesn't mean that one is worse than the other; just that their experiences are very different.

As someone who struggled as an adolescent with Ulcerative Colitis then spent my teenage years struggling with Treatment Resistant Depression, General Anxiety, PTSD, ADHD, and Bipolar Type 2, followed by my twenties being taken over from having to deal with Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder and GI issues again I have experience with both sides of the coin.

As a teenager my mental disabilities ruined my life. I struggled with motivation, suicidal ideation, hygiene, classwork and more. I found it hard to get out of bed most days. I struggled with insomnia. I failed half my classes freshman year due to undiagnosed depression. I cannot go to some places due to the loud noises, bright lights, and more that cause sensory issues.

What I have found to be useful for my mental disabilities is Madpunk. It actually talks about ways to cope with my mental issues and solutions. It talks about the negative and positive impacts of psychiatry.

However dealing with my physical disabilities is a completely different game. I have to think about whether public events will be accessible to me if I am using my rollator or a wheelchair. I get harassed by strangers for having a disability placard. I have to gauge my stamina and weigh the cost/benefits of going shopping. I am constantly using the bathroom - missing class time. Some days I cannot physically move out of my bed due to the amount of pain I am in. It can take me days to recover if I push myself past my limits. Sometimes my knees give out on me and I collapse.

Both my mental illness and physical illness have left me bed bound before - but the experiences are completely different. The treatment for mental and physical disabilities are different. The overlap of having a physical disability and then getting a mental disability is very common.

The cripple punk movement accepts the intersection between physical disability and mental disabilities. The definition of able-bodied is not having a physical disability. But if you only have mental disabilities and are able bodied there is space for you in the Madpunk movement. Mental Disabilities can be just as debilitating as Physical Disabilities - that is not in question. Just please don't be trying to take up space in a movement where we want to focus on our physical disabilities.

The Madpunk movement is under recognized and more people should help join in and further their cause. There is so much good discussion happening there - please go check it out! Talk about your personal experiences and help develop more theory.

The end message is that all disabled people are harmed by our current system. There should be more accommodations for mental disabilities. We need to focus on uplifting all of us rather than fighting each other and missing the real enemy.

#cpunk #cripple punk #cripplepunk #madpunk #mad punk #cripplepunk discourse #actually disabled #physical disability #mental disability

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amplified-pain-culture-is · 3 months

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Amplified pain culture is getting complementary IBS symptoms

#oh same! i developed gastroparesis from my amps 🙃#its so much fun /s #amps #amplified musculoskeletal pain syndrome #amplified pain culture is #amps culture is #crps #crps/rsd #rsd #amplified pain #complex regional pain syndrome

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skynapple · 1 month

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Budding Romance | Ch. 18

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers | Themes: angst, guilt, fluff

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

"Reasons" Flowers are a delicate thing; Meanwhile an injured knight makes a funny promise.

They made a stop at his shop where he lead her to the back where he kept bouquets of single stems.

"About time I show you how to do this."

For a few minutes, he explained a brief overview of some relevant meanings, differentiating the cultures when necessary, and also added that sometimes flowers didn't have to mean anything as long as they meant something to someone who loved them. "Take these for example," he grabbed a lily. "These were one of Lauren's favorite. They're also a funeral flower, and a holiday flower... Not a great pick for birthdays and everyday flowers. But I knew they meant something to her, so I’d always add one in.”

She smiled, although there was another guilty pang in her chest at the growing covet in her heart. It occurred to her that outside of the sunflower he’d given her several months ago, for all his profession as a florist, she’d not received a single flower from him since. Distracting herself, she roamed around the shop, reigning her thoughts in to begin picking out small bunches to arrange for her grandmother and Caleb.

He taught her how to wrap bouquets in paper in lace and how to keep them secure. It was a moment she’d fantasized about once. It had felt different, more romantic in her fantasy. Right then, it felt bit rushed. She knew it was because they didn’t want to leave too late. She still wished it was different, and deep down, she secretly wished she wasn’t watching him arrange a bouquet for another woman.

"I'll pay you for the bouquets."

“Please don’t, I owe you anyways."

"But aren’t these expensive?"

She continued to protest and he continued to refuse until she finally accepted his generosity. As they left the shop, she couldn’t help but look back at it, recalling one of their first conversations. The very essence of his memory of the woman he loved was imbued in its title.

Philo. Because he loved her.

Was it her idea to begin with?

She tore herself back to the present, mentally preparing herself for the meeting ahead.

—-

Several hundred years ago.

Jeremiah lay on the grass, every muscle within his chest burning as if set aflame. Something had tossed him that way, he couldn’t remember how. The unfortunate repercussion of this being that everything else hurt, too. All he could think about was the fire under his ribs, or was it somewhere in his back?

“Jeremiah!!" A voice cried from the distance.

He wanted to heed his commanders’ call, but couldn't find the strength.

A second later, he felt a strong grip of a hand on his shoulder and a shadow looming over. He blinked his eyes blearily up at its owner. There she was in the sunlight, hair falling out of the way she'd tied it back, sweat slicking it to her face mixed with blood splatters there.

"I need a medic here!” She called behind her.

A different, heavier voice answered: “Yes, Ma’am!"

Heavy steps trailed away. In the distance, clanging of swords and growls from wanderers. Her warmer voice loomed over him, saying a few things he couldn’t quite make out. He guessed that she was asking if he was ok.

He took a slow shakier breath, chest heaving as he did so.

“Comman—" He hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to speak. A hand on his chest sent a wave through him. He recognized the amplified feeling of her resonance, lending him strength.

“H-how do I…look? St-still handsome?”

She rolled her eyes. "I see your sense of humor is duly intact."

She held out a hand for him to take and he did, using her strength to attempt to pull himself up but quickly faltered. He felt her strong grip around his shoulder catch him, laying him down again gently as pain reverberated through his entire core. Around them the shouts and clashing steel echoed, leaving a constant ringing in his ears. She didn’t speak, but he understood that they could not stay out in the open.

"The wanderers were faster than anticipated.” She apologized, looking around frantically to keep a watch on stray debris. "Next time, I'll protect you."

"You sound like, Xavier, m-ma’am. I’m f-fine.“

She didn’t respond, and he did not miss the way her eyes flickered with sadness at the mention of her lost love.

The uneasiness in his torso continued to make it difficult to breathe properly, he winced again at the feeling of fire in his lungs. She gave him a concerned look, but he, despite his wince, only expressed that he was fine.

“You should-…you should re-..turn to the fight.”

“I’m not leaving my vice commander.”

The pain in her voice told him too much. Ever since someone important had left her long ago, she made a point to ensure the people she still loved in her life weren’t going to feel as lonely as she did. It was something of a touching sentiment. Only, he secretly wished she didn’t look so sad about it. He wondered if she’d have felt that way, regardless.

A medic rushed over, administering some care and drawing him away, leaving her standing alone in the trampled field. The bugs in the area around them didn't seem to care that there was a war on, darting too and fro from wherever a flower or two. It was once one of Xavier’s favorite places and now there was little left of it. In frustration she bent down to pluck a small blue flower and tuck it away with her. There was no more time to waste. Hastily, she rose her sword to return to the fight.

Several hours later, when all the wanderers had been defeated and all her duties accounted for, she found herself in the medical tent, taking assessment of her brave men and women, giving encouragement where she could. Jeremiah wondered if anyone else thought she looked weary, or if he just knew her expressions better by now. When he laid eyes on the tiny flower in her belt, he snorted, thinking, Of course. His highness’s favorite.

“Is that flower for me? My lady, I am touched. I must remind you, I am not soon to pass away.”

“It is most certainly not for you. And I did not think it was a funeral flower.”

“Well, if someone paid attention in botany instead of staring at a certain prince the whole class…”

She grumbled, not denying it, and took a seat on the empty cot across from him. "For all your apparent studying, you should have been a florist."

The ridiculous notion and the fact that he hadn’t expected a comeback at all sent air in his lungs, threatening to turn into a laugh. It left him only to suck air in sharply through his teeth at the burning sensation in his ribs. "Perhaps in my next life."

She smiled, and for once he thought she looked a little less weary. “I'll look forward to seeing that then.”

---

A/N: The ending of this chapter was something I was trying to get to for a long time! P.S. Lightseeker Jeremiah's injury is based on something that actually happened to me last year lol. Has anyone ever had a rib pop out of place? 10/10 would not recommend.

#jeremiah x mc #lnds jeremiah #love and deepspace jeremiah #jeremiah love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lnds fic #l&ds #l&ds jeremiah #l&ds mc #love and deepspace #lnds mc #love and deepspace mc #budding romance #madi writes

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anonymousewrites · 3 months

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Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Twenty-Four

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four: Controlling Psychics

Summary: Spock, (Y/N), Kirk, and Bones arrive on Platonius for an unknown distress call and find themselves in a psychic mess.

Captain’s Log: We are responding to desperate distress calls from an unknown planet. My science officer, Mr. Spock, is unable to account for this since he reported no sign of life on the planet. It is rich in kironide deposits, a very rare and long-lasting source of great power. Mr. Spock, Mx. (L/N), Dr. McCoy, and I have beamed down to investigate.

They materialized in an entryway to a room that reminded (Y/N) of designs of ancient Earth ruins. Greece, they believed (though their memory for ancient history was often clouded by what they knew about current cultures).

“Are you from the starship Enterprise?” said a booming voice, though it came from no discernable body. Then, a shadow appeared as someone walked closer.

“We are,” said Kirk.

A man, quite short, appeared around the corner. The walls of the room had amplified his voice. He was dressed in what (Y/N) again believed was ancient Greek robes. “Alexander, at your service,” he said, smiling He was nervous, but his emotions were more warmth than anything. “I sing, I dance, I play all variety of games, and I’m a good loser, a very good loser.” His nerves grew stronger, and (Y/N) furrowed their brow. “Please, sir, try to bear that in mind.” He waved for them to follow, and the group did.

“Who are the people of this planet?” asked (Y/N).

“Oh, Platonians,” said Alexander. “I’m sure you’ve never heard of us. Our native star is Sahndara. Millennia ago, just before it went nova, we managed to escape. Our leader liked Plato’s ideas. Plato, Platonius, see? In fact, our current king, Parmen, sometimes called us Plato’s children, although we sometimes think of ourselves more as Plato’s stepchildren.”

He paused suddenly, and (Y/N) felt a tremble in their empathic senses. Another psychic was around and, judging by Alexander’s expression, speaking to him.

“Excuse me, uh, someone’s waiting for you,” said Alexander.

He stiffened and hopped away uncomfortably as if compelled by an unseen force. (Y/N) frowned uncomfortably at the motion. However, there was nothing the group could do but exchange glances and follow.

Alexander’s hopping led them to another room, and once the doors open, they could see a lavishly decorated room in the same Grecian style. A man reclined on a sofa, and a woman doted upon him. Several other people stood around. All wore the same Grecian robes, though theirs were more ornate than Alexander’s. The woman at the sofa rose when she saw the guests and descended from the dais, her green dress swirling elegantly as she moved.

(Y/N) could feel the pain of the man lying down and the worry of the woman instantly, and it was amplified in their senses. These two were psychics—with no barriers to their minds, they gave off stronger emotions.

(Most psychic species were like this to varying degrees. The more open the mind and stronger the abilities, the stronger the emotions. Vulcans were exceptions due to the closed-off nature of their minds and emotions. They kept barriers that stopped empaths from sensing their emotions to any degree. When Spock chose to share his emotions with (Y/N), though, they encompassed all of their senses)

“Welcome to our republic,” said the woman. “Who among you is the physician?”

“I am,” said Bones. “What’s the problem?”

“My spouse—his leg,” said the woman. “Come this way.” She escorted them to the dais.

Bones stepped up and looked at the man. “Well, what happened to his leg?”

“I suppose I scratched it,” said the man.

“I don’t understand,” said Bones, staring at the cut. “This should’ve been attended to immediately.”

“Sheer ignorance,” said the man, groaning. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Well, we’re certainly going to try,” said Bones. He looked at (Y/N). “Can you calm some of his pain so I can get to work? The infection is massive and probably agonizing.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Of course.”

“What if they hurt him?” said the woman suspiciously.

“(Y/N) is an Empath. They need only touch your spouse to ease his pain,” said Spock, defending (Y/N)’s skill and honor.

“And I wouldn’t harm him,” said (Y/N).

“Very well,” said the man. “I will accept the empath’s help.”

(Y/N) approached and put a hand on his arm. They allowed themself to take some of his pain and dull his suffering. The man sighed and relaxed. Around them, the various Platonians’ emotions turned pleased as they saw the empath at work. (Y/N) felt disconcerted by the attention.

“Good,” said Bones, opening his med pack. “Now something for the infection.” He reached for a needle, but it floated up.

Psychics, as I thought, thought (Y/N).

“Where?” asked the man, keeping the needle floating.

“In the leg,” said Bones, looking on in surprise.

The needle pushed into his leg and injected. Then, it floated back to Bones’s hand. (Y/N)’s attention snapped towards the woman as she sat and observed them. Her face was cold, and Alexander’s emotions were full of fear as he spoke to her.

(Y/N) knew that gut feelings were effective in missions, but this…something they didn’t like was going on. It was disconcerting. (Y/N) watched as the woman forced Alexander to cover his mouth, and her emotions sharpened to anger.

No, they definitely didn’t like this.

(Y/N) drew their hand back once the pain of the man abated enough. Around them, the Platonians were playing chess with Alexander. They amused themselves by moving the stone pieces with their minds while Alexander had to lift it himself. (Y/N) didn’t like how they played with him. These psychics…there was something in their manner that reminded them of the Novisans.

“What is your prognosis, Doctor?” asked the man.

“I’ll let you know when I have the results,” said Bones. “And from now on, it would be better if I handled the instruments without your help.”

He stepped down from the dais, scan completed. (Y/N) followed. The Starfleet officers gathered in the center of the room.

“Bones, I don’t understand why a simple cut like that could become so serious,” said Kirk.

“Neither do I, but it has,” said Bones. “How do I knock out an infection when the tricorder doesn’t show any information on Platonius bacteria? What I’ve given him is the basics, but it won’t continue to help.”

“His pain is returning, too,” said (Y/N).

“All I could do was match his bugs with a known strain and hope,” said Bones.

The woman in green approached. “I apologize for my rudeness. I am Philana.” Although she spoke politely, she was cold, and her emotions were the same. It seemed she just wanted them to continue to treat her spouse well.

“Hello,” said Kirk. “Thank you for having us. I have to ask, though, this psychokinetic power of yours—how long have you had it? Did it come from Sahndar?”

“We’ve had it two and a half—ever since our arrival here on Platonius,” said Philana.

“How is the power transmitted?” asked Spock.

“Brain waves,” Philana replied.

“Do these waves cease when you’re asleep?” questioned Spock.

“No, not if they’re imbedded in the unconscious,” said Philana.

“Well, what about medicine? Why no doctors?” asked Bones.

“Well, we haven’t any pressing need for the medical arts,” said Philana. “You see, while still on Sahndara, we instituted a mass eugenics program. We are the result.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the phrase, the idea and the lack of emotions Philana expressed while speaking both horrifying. It seemed their suspicion had been correct. They exchanged a glance with the others, equally tense. This place…they would leave as soon as they were finished.

“Pared down to a population of 38, we’re perfect for our Eutopia,” said Philana. “We’re bred for contemplation and self-reliance…and longevity.” She lifted her chin proudly. “How old would you say I am?” Kirk hesitated politely. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not vain.”

Lie, thought (Y/N).

“Thirty-five,” said Spock without hesitation.

Anger tinged Philana’s emotions. “That old? I stopped aging at thirty.”

(Y/N) was very proud of Spock all of a sudden.

“Well, anyway, you’re off by two thousand years,” said Philana. “I’m 2,300 years old. Parmen and I were married very young. I was only 117, and he was 128. You see, we scarcely have to move anymore, let alone work.”

“That’s why you have no resistance?” asked Kirk.

“That’s right,” said Philana. “A break in the skin or cut can be fatal.”

Parmen cried out, and Philana went to his side as a statue broke. Parmen’s pain was causing his telekinesis to go haywire, and statues were flying across the room dangerously. Kirk and Bones ducked for cover, and Spock pulled (Y/N) down beside him for safety. He wouldn’t see them harmed.

“Fascinating,” said Spock. “Does pain affect your abilities, too, (Y/N)?”

“This is a man acting out because he has no proper control or understanding of his own abilities,” murmured (Y/N), their opinion clear.

Before several statues could hit them, a man stopped them with his mind and lowered them to the ground. He had on orange robes lined with gold. He smiled at the group (at (Y/N)). “Apologies for this. Our king is experiencing extreme delirium.” He extended a hand to (Y/N) to help them up. They didn’t take it. “I am Aristos, and I thank you for your assistance, even with this mishap.”

“This mishap is still occurring,” said Spock, looking around as the room shook violently.

(Y/N) nodded and pressed their fingers to their temples as they felt Parmen’s emotions fly out of control. The Platonians glanced at them as they realized how sensitive (Y/N)’s empathy was.

“Captain!” Kirk’s communicator beeped, and Scotty’s voice came over it. “Captain!”

“Scotty, what’s the matter?!” said Kirk.

“Captain, we’re in the midst of a storm,” said Scotty.

Parmen’s outburst, thought (Y/N). The delirium was more dangerous than they’d thought. They could feel his emotions pressing in around them, and it was aggravating.

“No discernible cause, and I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Scotty worriedly. “There’s ten-scale turbulence, and right now, emergency gyros and stabilizers are at maximum. If this keeps up, Captain, we can’t last.”

“Engines at full speed,” said Kirk. “Get her out of orbit and into space.”

“I’ve tried that, sir. She’s locked tight,” said Scotty.

“Then there’s nothing you can do but batten down and weather,” said Kirk.

“Right, Captain,” said Scotty before the communication ended.

“Parmen’s mind is affecting the Enterprise and the rest of the crew,” said (Y/N). “I’m going to calm him down.”

“Be careful,” said Spock. “It could harm you.” He didn’t want them to be hurt.

“Don’t worry, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling gently before running up to the dais. Behind them, Alexander began to choke as Parmen’s mind grabbed him, and Kirk ran to help him.

“Let him die!” called Philana carelessly as she held Parmen.

(Y/N) was disgusted, but they pushed their feelings aside to grab Parmen’s mind and force his pain away. It agonized and exhausted them, but Parmen heaved a gasp and collapsed tiredly. Finally, he was still and quiet.

Everyone let out a breath, and Kirk quickly checked on the Enterprise. Thankfully, it wasn’t being harmed anymore.

“I don’t know how we can ever thank you,” said Philana, following (Y/N) down from the dais to where they met with Bones and the others. “Not only for Platonius, but for myself.”

“Indeed. Your assistance was of great help,” said Aristos to Bones and (Y/N). He smiled, and it was blindingly warm, but the want was apparent, and (Y/N) shifted back to Spock’s side. “You were quite talented.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he was tempted to reach around (Y/N) as if he could block them from the Platonians. The way they looked at his t’hy’la—Aristos in particular—was far too similar to the Novisans or Khan. It was want, desire. And Spock disliked it greatly.

“Alexander, show our guests to the South Wing,” commanded Philana.

“We must return to our ship,” said Spock, wanting to get (Y/N) back to the Enterprise and away from the Platonians as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“We do need to wait until Parmen’s fever breaks,” said Bones. “I’ll stick around until then.”

“I believe (Y/N) should also wait,” said Aristos. “After all, they can handle Parmen’s delirium with their empathy. It is impressive as well as helpful.”

“If they stay, I guess we’ll all stay,” said Kirk, acutely aware that he shouldn’t leave his officers alone with these people, not with the interest being shown in them.

“I’ll monitor Parmen,” said Bones.

“I’ll sense if he has problems, and I’ll come back if his delirium grows again,” said (Y/N), deciding to leave with Spock and Kirk. They deliberately wanted to avoid the desire the Platonians had for them to stay.

“Are you certain you do not wish to stay?” asked Aristos. He smiled coyly. “We’ve always wanted to know other psychics with different types of abilities. After all, we only have one. To understand each other more…it could be fascinating.”

“Maybe another time,” said (Y/N) resolutely.

They turned and walked out the door with them to follow Alexander. They ignored the negative emotions their departure created.

Aristos and Philana glanced at one another.

“New psychic powers to join with ours,” said Philana.

“Excitement in the midst of boredom.” Aristos smirked. “And in such a pretty package.”

“I need to get off this planet,” murmured (Y/N) as they walked into their quarters with Spock and Kirk. Alexander walked in front of them, so (Y/N) spoke quietly.

“I agree,” said Kirk. “These people…We can’t trust them. Not when they’ve committed genocide and seem too eager to have us stay.”

“And the additional threat is that it is clear the Platonians have a similar interest in (Y/N) as the Novisans did,” said Spock.

(Y/N) shivered uncomfortably. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened on Novis.”

“None of us do,” said Kirk.

Spock nodded, and he reached out to brush his fingers against (Y/N)’s. He was worried. He didn’t want (Y/N) to be harmed. “We’ll be alright, T’hy’la,” he murmured.

(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Spock.”

Alexander opened the door to their quarters. “A-Anything you want, just ask me. Anything,” he said.

“Thank you, Alexander,” said Kirk.

“Oh, think nothing of it, you saved my life,” said Alexander, smiling. Then, his smile fell. “Listen, I think I should tell you that…”

“Tell me what?” asked Kirk.

“Well, just that I never knew that there were people like you,” said Alexander.

“Alexander, is there anyone else like you on Platonus?” asked (Y/N).

“What do you mean like me?” asked Alexander warily.

“You don’t have telekinesis,” said (Y/N).

Alexander smiled. “Oh, I thought you were talking about my size. They make fun of me for my size.” Sadness swept around him. “But, um, to answer my question, I’m the only one who doesn’t have it. I was brought here as the court buffoon. That’s why I’m everybody’s slave, and I have to be ten places at once, and I never do anything right.”

He’s mistreated. Like the non-empaths were on Novis, thought (Y/N). More and more red flags. We need to get out of here.

“How did they obtain the power?” asked Spock.

“As far as I know, it just comes to you,” said Alexander. “They say I’m a ‘throwback,’ and I am, and so are you.” He glanced at (Y/N). “I, uh, I think they like you because you’re a psychic.”

“If it helps, I don’t like them or how they treat you,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “And for the record, Alexander, psychic abilities don’t make someone better than anyone else.”

“Right,” said Kirk, smiling. “We’re happier without it.” Spock nodded.

Alexander smiled, and his emotions warmed. “You know, I believe you are. Listen, where you come from, are there a lot of people without the power and my size?”

“Alexander, where we’re from, size, shape, or color make no difference,” said Kirk. “And whether they have power or anything similar doesn’t matter. They’re all just people.”

Alexander smiled happily, and then he tensed up. The Platonians were calling him. “Uh, s-somebody wants me,” he said as he was pulled from the room.

“Captain,” said Spock. “It will be very gratifying to leave here.” For very many reasons.

“That might not be easy if Parmen dies,” said Kirk, sighing.

“Even if he shouldn’t,” said Spock.

“Yes. This utopia of theirs is one of the best-kept secrets in the galaxy,” said Kirk. “Screening themselves from our sensors, locking us into orbit. All this adds up to a pattern.”

“Not to mention their clear desire for (Y/N) to stay,” said Spock. He disliked the general interest in their empathy and the particular interest of Aristos in them.

“I can feel their emotions,” said (Y/N). “Unfortunately, he’s right.”

Kirk nodded. “We need to find a way to leave.”

“Jim!” A pleased Bones walked into the room. “My concoction actually worked. The fever’s broken. And what recuperative powers! The infection’s begun to drain already.” He was quite proud of himself.

“Dr. McCoy, you may yet cure the common cold,” said Spock.

“If there was ever a time to get out of here, it’s now,” said Kirk.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bones, glancing around.

“The Platonians are reminding us all a bit too much of the Novisans,” said (Y/N).

Bones’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want a repeat of that any more than the others. “Right. I thought something felt off.”

“Then we’re leaving,” said Kirk. He flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise. Scotty, come in.”

“Scott here, sir,” said Scotty.

“Prepare to beam us up,” said Kirk.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” said Scotty regretfully. “Everything’s frozen.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold, and they reached over to Spock for support.

“The turbulence hit you that hard?” asked Kirk hesitantly.

“It’s not the turbulence, sir,” said Scotty. “Damage to the ship is minimal.”

“What caused it?” asked (Y/N).

“I don’t know. And those are the facts,” said Scotty. “And what’s more, our orbit is locked tighter than ever, and we have no communication with Starfleet.”

“It’s the Platonians,” said (Y/N). They’re cutting us off from escape.

“Ordinarily, I do not approve of ‘jumping to conclusions,’ as they say. However, given the circumstances, I agree with (Y/N),” said Spock.

“It looks like I have to have a talk with Parmen,” said Kirk, furrowing his brow. “Spock, Bones, stay here with (L/N).”

“Got it, Jim,” said Bones.

“Of course,” said Spock.

Kirk nodded, and he walked out of the room.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down, putting their hands on their face. They didn’t want to deal with this again. This was different than the Novisans. At least they were empaths, something (Y/N) understood. This telekinesis, this near mind-control…it was far more dangerous. (Y/N) was scared they couldn’t protect anyone if the Platonians tried to hurt their friends.

“T’hy’la,” said Spock, kneeling in front of them. “We will leave Platonius.”

“These people…they’re dangerous, Spock,” said (Y/N). They looked athim. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Spock’s gaze softened. “T’hy’la—”

The doors opened, and Kirk stumbled back in. Uncontrollably, he kept hitting himself.

(Y/N) tensed. The Platonians had begun to toy with them. And (Y/N) couldn’t stop it.

But they would still fight.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@neenieweenie

@keylimeconstellation

@wormwig

@technikerin23

@ilyatan

@nthdarkqueen

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opencommunion · 4 months

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Deputy Sec-Gen of Hezbollah Sheikh Naim Qassem:

“Al-Aqsa Flood will establish a new phase in our region. Currently, we don't see it, but rather witness destruction. However, post the current war scenario, Al-Aqsa Flood will establish a new era, with its pillars being cultural and political revival, reshaping global convictions, spreading the language of resistance. The true owners of justice will see their voices amplified and their capabilities enhanced. Support for resistance will expand, a new generation arising, tougher and more resilient, drawing strength from the pain, bravery, and principles witnessed in the current generation. We will see the fruition of these results.

The earthquake of the Al-Aqsa Flood has penetrated deep into the minds and hearts of every individual in this Israeli entity. However, we need some time to reap the results. There is no turning back, even though some results are beginning to manifest, such as psychological crises, uncertainties about the future, and an unknown destiny. This is a prelude to the disappearance of this entity, God willing.

Israel presents numerous proposals concerning northern Palestine and southern Lebanon, attempting to show that it has options to safely bring settlers back north, distancing Hezbollah and resistance from the south. In the midst of this battle, we say to them, Israel is not in a position to impose its choices. Instead, it should respond and face the resilience of the resistance, rejecting the consolidation of the Israeli project and preventing Israel from achieving its goals in Gaza, Lebanon, and the region. Israel cannot return settlers to the north amid the ongoing battle, nor can it gain any victory, neither in this battle nor at its conclusion.

First, Israel must halt the war in Gaza for the conflict in Lebanon to cease. Persisting in bombing civilians in Lebanon implies a stronger response proportional to Israeli aggression. We have decided to be in a state of war and confrontation on the southern front against Israel, but in proportion to the requirements of the battle. If Israel persists, the response will be stronger. If Israel threatens, our readiness remains, as we did not engage in this battle for leisure but as a duty to end Israeli aggression and its violations in Gaza, despite knowing the sacrifices are significant; they are essential, required, and prevent much greater sacrifices. This will dismantle a dangerous project against Palestine and the region.”

31 Dec 23

#lebanon #palestine #resistance

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skogenraev · 10 months

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Strawberries - Magical Properties

🍓 The spiritual meaning of strawberries symbolizes love, passion, and healing. This fruit has been revered for centuries in various cultures for its connection to emotional and physical well-being. 🍓 The strawberry’s heart shape, vibrant red color, and sweet taste make it a powerful symbol in the spiritual realm. 🍓 Love and passion: Strawberries are associated with love and passion due to their red color and heart shape, often linked with the goddess Aphrodite. 🍓 Healing and purification: The strawberry’s high vitamin C content has long been believed to possess healing powers for both body and soul. 🍓 Abundance and fertility: Their seeds, which are visible on the outside, represent life, growth, and abundance, symbolizing a fruitful existence. 🍓 Spiritual growth and transformation: Strawberries symbolize the journey towards inner growth and enlightenment, as they ripen from green to red, signifying personal transformation. Although strawberries have only relatively recently been cultivated in Europe and western cultures, beginning around 1300 C. E. in France, folk all around the world have used strawberries for a variety of purposes for centuries. In South America before the Europeans arrived, strawberries were traded. North American First Nation tribes used strawberries as medicine, particularly as a women’s medicine used to clear toxins and support fertility and child-rearing. In Asia, strawberry’s detoxifying properties were also recognized as many as 2600 years B. C., at which time the Yellow Emperor used the leaves of the strawberry plant in a weak tea to detoxify and reduce the effects of aging. The Romans used Strawberries to lift the spirits and relieve bad breath as well as to treat a variety of digestive complaints. Strawberry’s popular reputation, however, solidified around fertility early on, and there it has remained. Strawberry shows up in European mythos as a fertility-inducing and love-producing fruit beloved of goddesses such as Venus, Aphrodite, Freyja, and the Virgin Mary. It was said the fruit of strawberry, when shared with another, would produce love. In Bavarian folk tradition, strawberries are gathered and hung in baskets on the horns of cattle to pay the local nature spirits in trade for many healthy calves and cows who produce an abundance of milk. It was said that if a pregnant woman carried strawberry leaves in her pocket they would relieve the pains of pregnancy. From inducing love to producing offspring, strawberry has been recognized as a potent little herb. It’s no wonder, too, strawberry has enjoyed a solid standing amongst the fertility herbs of folklore and mythos. Strawberry is a member of the Rosaceae family, also known as the Rose family, known for their love-inducing properties. Through her seeds, strawberry amplifies this message of dedication. Strawberry seeds grow on the outside of the fruit and can germinate even when soil isn’t present. Strawberry knows deep down no matter what the present conditions appear to be, she has the power to succeed. Strawberry magic is the magic of success through inner vision that sustains until the outer world is ready to receive. Success, as strawberry teaches us, requires proper preparation of one’s self. Wild strawberries tend to concentrate their energy and healing properties more intensely and in small fruits than their cultivated cousins. Thus, if your project has grown up or come to you through a wild, uncontrolled, undirected manner or source, you may be able to expect a longer duration of more concentrated energy and small-sized but intense fruits. Conversely, if your project has been carefully cultivated, you may enjoy large, abundant fruits for a shorter period. In Astrology, strawberry is considered a feminine plant and is governed by Venus. Strawberry’s element is water. 🍓 Symbolism - Love, passion, purity, and fertility 🍓 Color - Red, symbolizing vitality, life force, and sensuality 🍓 Shape - Heart-shaped, representing the heart chakra and emotional connections 🍓 Associated Deities - Freya, Aphrodite, and Venus, goddesses of love, beauty, and fertility 🍓 Historical Use - Used in ancient Roman ceremonies as a symbol of love and fertility 🍓 Cultural Significance - In medieval Europe, strawberries were used as a symbol of perfection, purity, and righteousness

🍓 Spiritual Practices - Used in rituals to attract love, enhance passion, and strengthen relationships

🍓

Medicinal Properties

- Rich in vitamins and antioxidants, promoting physical and spiritual health

History & Lore

"Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did." (Dr. William Butler, 17th Century English Writer) Dr. Butler is referring to the strawberry. Strawberries are the best of the berries. The delicate heart-shaped berry has always connoted purity, passion and healing. It has been used in stories, literature and paintings through the ages.

In Othello, Shakespeare decorated Desdemonda's handkerchief with symbolic strawberries.

Madame Tallien, a prominent figure at the court of the Emperor Napoleon, was famous for bathing in the juice of fresh strawberries. She used 22 pounds per basin, needless to say, she did not bathe daily.

In parts of Bavaria, country folk still practice the annual rite each spring of tying small baskets of wild strawberries to the horns of their cattle as an offering to elves. They believe that the elves, who are passionately fond of strawberries, will help to produce healthy calves and abundance of milk in return.

The American Natives were already eating strawberries when the Colonists arrived. The crushed berries were mixed with cornmeal and baked into strawberry bread. After trying this bread, Colonists developed their own version of the recipe and Strawberry Shortcake was created.

In Greek and Roman times, the strawberry was a wild plant.

The English "strawberry" comes from the Anglo-Saxon "streoberie" not spelled in the modern fashion until 1538.

The first documented botanical illustration of a strawberry plant appeared as a figure in Herbaries in 1454.

In 1780, the first strawberry hybrid "Hudson" was developed in the United States.

Legend has it that if you break a double strawberry in half and share it with a member of the opposite sex, you will fall in love with each other.

The strawberry was a symbol for Venus, the Goddess of Love, because of its heart shapes and red color.

Queen Anne Boleyn, the second wife of Henry VIII had a strawberry shaped birthmark on her neck, which some claimed proved she was a witch.

To symbolize perfection and righteousness, medieval stone masons carved strawberry designs on altars and around the tops of pillars in churches and cathedrals.

The wide distribution of wild strawberries is largely from seeds sown by birds. It seems that when birds eat the wild berries the seeds pass through them intact and in reasonably good condition. The germinating seeds respond to light rather than moisture and therefore need no covering of earth to start growing.

Strawberries in Bible

While there are many interpretations of what strawberries may represent in the Bible, one of the most common is that they symbolize righteousness and purity.

In Song of Solomon, for example, the narrator compares his love interest’s lips to “a cluster of ripe grapes” and her breasts to “two fawns, twins of a gazelle.” This analogy is often extended to include strawberries as well, with their reddish hue and seeds representing the blood of Christ and the fruit of salvation respectively.

Strawberry Facts

🍓 The average strawberry has approximately 200 seeds.

🍓 A strawberry flower averages five to seven petals.

🍓 Americans on average eat approximately three-and-a-half pounds of fresh strawberries each per year.

🍓 Strawberry word has its origin from Old English words “steowberie” or “streawbelige”.

🍓 Amazing good for pregnant women. Birth defects like spina bifida can be reduced if they eat strawberries on a regular basis.

🍓 The strawberry plant is a perennial.

#HerbGuide #strawberries #green witch #kitchen witch

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amessageonthewind · 2 months

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New Horizons

Pairing: Connor/Hannah 1 year after being married.

Word Count: 1360

My half of my art trade with @nerdstreak

Skylines had quickly become a favourite of the Anderson household. Well, more accurately the love for them had been reignited once new life had taken residence in the household that had been previously haunted by the natural oppressive presence of grief, blame, and guilt. The solitude only amplified the suffocating nature of such a haunting.

The home was plagued by solitude no longer, now that Lieutenant Hank Anderson had acquired (though, more accurately adopted) two androids. Something he never thought he’d ever do.

Not until he’d met Connor and Hannah. It was a strange set of circumstances he’d found himself in and he had no choice but to deal with them, though Connor was way more of a pain in the ass. Actually…Hannah was nothing but a sweetheart, to be frank. The fact that she was his android for a while did make him a bit uncomfortable, but once she had deviated and still chose to stay with him in his home, he’d felt not even an echo of that discomfort in quite some time.

Now, these two were like family. They’d only been a part of the lieutenant’s life for a comparatively short time, but their inclusion in it left nothing left to be desired for someone as weathered as he was. For a while, the Anderson household was completely devoid of community. And now, community was all it ever saw.

Case and point, Riverside Park. What was once a painful reminder of the loss that Hank had suffered had now become a place of new beginnings. Hannah was standing by the railings of the park, easel set up and painting the skyline. She was experimenting with painting a picture using one colour in various shades and saturations while including whatever fleeting thoughts pass through her mind during the painting process. She may have been an android designed to copy art pieces by the man who previously owned her, but her artistic merit could not be understated…and she had only grown more and more skilled every day.

It had been roughly a year since Hannah and Connor had gotten married, Markus having officiated the wedding and Hank being proud to be asked to walk her down the aisle. Androids were just starting out, developing their own distinct culture, customs, and traditions all on their own. Some of them borrowed from human culture – after all, humans did create them and maybe over time, androids would become more and more divorced from human culture as they began to properly evolve and grow on their own – while others adamantly refused to.

Hank couldn’t possibly keep up with all of it, interesting though it was, but he was perfectly content supporting the pair of them.

On the bench, Hank and Connor were both contentedly observing Hannah while she painted. He was enjoying the atmosphere and the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the park and the bridge in the distance. Meanwhile Connor’s eyes were squarely on his wife. He was a man who valued details, as per his function and his naturally curious personality. It was hard not to take in every detail of his wife, the furrow of her brow and the focus in her eyes, every deliberate stroke of her brush delivered through avenue of her delicate hands.

And, of course, the art piece itself, a picture pulled from her mind’s eye so complex and unknown even to herself, like many androids who were living in this new world of deviancy and free will. Every detail and fleeting thought depicted on the canvas told him of everything that went on around and even inside Hannah.

Even without speaking, his world expanded every time he even so much looked at her. It was easy for Connor to sink into it as he gazed at her. So much so that he almost didn’t realize that Hank was speaking to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Jeez, I’m not used to you actually getting distracted. But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen people look at each other the way you two do, so I can’t really complain.” Hank gruffly joked, a jovial tone in his voice as he chuckled in affectionate amusement at the android he’d come to see as a son. “I was just asking if you and Hannah thought about maybe going on a late honeymoon or something since you two got hitched.”

Connor tilted his head a bit. He heard of the concept and he was aware of it, but he had never really considered it personally. It sounded pleasant, upon reflection. It just simply hadn’t crossed his mind until now. “We haven’t discussed it previously, why?”

Hank simply shrugged, pursing his lips underneath his grayed beard for a moment before he leaned back against the bench, pale eyes reflecting the colour of the sky cast back to it. “Just wondering. It’s not important or anything, it’s just…a nice thing to sorta go off on your own somewhere with your partner and not have to worry about any responsibilities or work and just be with them. Away from the rest of the world, y’know?” He replied. It had been a while since he’d even thought about his ex-wife and she’d been out of his life for so long that she was nothing more than a neutral footnote in his mind.

But, it was nice to actually have something of a reason to think about stuff like this. Hannah and Connor deserved to know all the nice parts of being in a relationship and being married. He just figured he’d float some options to them if they were interested. There weren’t a lot of travel options for androids, still, but they could probably plan something if they wanted to go for it. Hank could handle being alone better now than he used to, now that his house felt like a home, again.

Ruminating on the covert suggestion that Hank had offered, though hesitant to interrupt his wife, Connor got up from his seat and discreetly made his way towards her, hands folded neatly behind his back, thumb fiddling with the wedding finger snugly fit onto its respective finger. The very same one that glinted in the light on Hannah’s hand as she painted.

He was about to speak up to get her attention when he paused to observe her painting. Amongst the hues of blue were little shapes and silhouettes of everything that was going on around her – children running and playing with their families, birds, dogs, and of course…planes.

One of which was followed by a trail of little bright blue hearts that dotted the canvas brightest among all the hues and shades. Hannah, of course, was neither blind nor deaf. She had overheard Connor’s conversation with Hank on the park bench and a soft warm smile was gracing her lips as she set her brush down, turning to meet her beloved husband’s soft gaze.

Naturally, he knew instantly that she’d overheard him and patiently waited for her response. “I haven’t really thought about it much, myself. But…I think it’s a great idea. Just going off somewhere, you and me, and not having to worry about anything else. Just us for a little while. Don’t you?”

Gaze flitting between the beautiful azure canvas of the Detroit skyline dotted with all of the immediate experiences around her, he gave her his signature lopsided grin, reaching for her hand and bending down to kiss her forehead, a contented hum accompanying the affectionate and loving gesture. “I think so, too.”

Chuckling in satisfaction, Hank leaned back and crossed his arms, eyes grazing the skyline again. Man…this placed used to be somewhere so painful. Somewhere that reopened old scars. A place he used for the same purpose he used alcohol.

Now, it was a place that bandaged those wounds and allowed them to heal…and he owed it to these two. He might not live nearly as long as they would, especially at his age, but he had every confidence that they would live a long and happy life together.

So finally, he could say without a doubt that Hank Anderson would die a happy man.

#nerdstreak

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