#but most of it happens at home or with disparate people and places

[hussyknee]

The OCD urge to convince everyone that you're not a good person really.

#it feels unreal to me that it's not obvious to people what a five alarm trashfire the inside of my head is #it's a fucking warzone in here. people are dying. blood everywhere. things on fire #this ends up presenting itself in seething passive aggression‚ virulent rants at the drop of a hat and randomly exploding at people #but most of it happens at home or with disparate people and places #so a casual observer who isn't targeted and doesn't disagree merely thinks Im being snippy #instead of acting like bear caught in a trap #people see your highlight reel not the behind the scenes footage #so when they still like you despite how toxic you know yourself to be #it feels like you're being disingenuous somehow #the baseline ocd existence is believing you're the reason for humanity's downfall and a plague on the earth #and desperately hoping that nobody finds out but also that people do find out so that you can stop being terrified of being discovered #actually ocd #ocd #scrupulosity #knee of huss #mental illness #mental health

[originalleftist]

The US is Israel's greatest ally. It contains about a third of the Jewish people in the world, a close second to Israel itself.

In that country, in 2023, an ally and dinner guest of a former President/major Presidential candidate*, by some polls the front-runner, can openly call for the extermination of Jews, amid a spree of attacks and threats against Jews that reportedly included some 200 swattings and bomb threats to Jewish buildings in ONE DAY, and its barely a blip in the news cycle.

This is happening at the same time that the owner of X (formerly Twitter), one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, has just declared that Jews are spreading "hatred against whites" and flooding Western countries with non-white immigrants- the same "Replacement Theory" that has been cited in the manifestos of multiple mass shooters. And it is happening less than a century after two thirds of Europes' Jews were exterminated in countries they once called home- an atrocity that many still deny or downplay.

Does anyone, ANYONE still question why many Jews might feel that they require their own homeland in order to be safe? Or that defending that homeland at all costs is a matter of survival for them as a people?

None of this justifies the atrocities in Gaza, or the criminality of the Netanyahu regime (something which many Jews both inside and outside of Israel also oppose).

But when seeing the power disparity between Israel and Palestinians, and its horrific effects on Palestinian civilians, it is often forgotten (or deliberately ignored) that in the larger, worldwide picture, Jews are still a small, marginalized, and vulnerable group- perhaps more so now than at any time since the Holocaust (and to state what should be obvious, the existence of some individual wealthy and powerful Jews does not negate this either, any more than Obama's election as president ended anti-Black racism).

So fuck ANYONE who tries, even a little, to downplay or justify antiSemitism, for ANY reason. Or who simply labels Israelis as colonial oppressors while ignoring the long and ongoing history of genocidal persecution against the Jewish people in pretty much every other place that they have tried to call home. And especially fuck those who try to present antiSemitism, and agreeing with Adolf fucking Hitler, as the anti-colonialist, anti-racist position.

*If anyone is questioning Trump's or Republicans' antiSemitism because of their closeness to certain Right-wing Jewish figures or stated support for Israel, it must be understood that the American Right accepting Jews of European ancestry as white is a pretty recent development, and one that, like most of their supposed principles, they have adopted only when it is convenient to them. The Klan is an anti-Jewish (and anti-Catholic) organization as well as an anti-Black one, and the support from evangelical Christians for Israel is founded in a combination of hatred for Arabs/Palestinians/Muslims, geopolitical strategic maneuvering, and a belief that Israel needs to exist to fulfill their apocalypse prophecies so that Jesus can send all the Jews to Hell. It is not based in any sincere sympathy for Jewish people, nor a desire for anything for them but eternal damnation in Hellfire, preceded by slaughter here on Earth.

#Israel #Palestine #Gaza #Nick Fuentes #Donald Trump #Elon Musk #AntiSemitism #Never Again

[armed-aphrodite]

Pentiment is rightly praised for how it shows its history's foundations, but what it does best is show you how history is corrupted. In tracking a town for 25 years, you get to see how decisions change the town over time. But you also get to see how down the line, nobody agrees on why those decisions were important, how they should be remembered and depicted.

It's most tangible with regard to the events of the town, the murders and the Event toward the end of Act 2. You get to take part in these, see exactly what happens, decide to some degree the fate of the town. And then when you paint the murals, you see the disparate ways different people remember, want to remember, and want to be remembered the events you've seen. You send letters to people in far off places for whom these events are distant memories because they're! somehow! the! best! source of information for events in the town you are in at the time!

It's most impactful though in the history of the town. The Pagans, the Romans, the Christianization, all exist in half-remembered stories and myths that come to you naturally, but it's hard to remember (until the fantastic end) that they are these half-remembered bastardizations. Keeping them in memory is difficult in itself; if you don't manage to convince Ursula to remember the old ways as a child, nobody will keep the Pagan rituals and myths alive.

And the act of painting of the murals in Act 3, seemingly an excuse to get you to investigate, are really an opportunity for you to do just what those older civilizations did. Like the Pagan art that is Roman, the Roman art that is Christian, the Christian art that is Modern, the murals that you paint will be interpreted and misinterpreted and coopted by whoever comes next. You get to take part in the same awkward act of creation. I think the Roman ruins are the best metaphor: the future won't live in the home you built, but will use the stone to make a home for themselves.

#pentiment #the tools and knickknacks found by the farmers getting left in piles makes me so sad every time #tools and everyday items are just as important for remembering the past!

[clouds-by-me]

Tried Revival Au

Y/n;

wally;

Au summary:

It was about 6 years ago that you moved into Welcome. Compared to the last place that you lived, Welcome was much more lively and colorful. Rather quickly you grew close to the people who lived on your block, and around your house. After living there for 4 years, it became known that you had A Sickness. It was new and rare, something not many knew about. It affected your health to A degree. Suddenly you went out less, and people starting going to your house instead, less outings and more sleepovers.

It was one day, 2 years after you were diagnosed with your sickness, one day, 6 years after you moved to Welcome, that you were feeling decent enough to go out for A walk. You didn't think that you needed to tell any one. Maybe that was your third mistake...

Months passed since you were last seen, your friends were worried, all of them. Wally the most, he was your best friend. You two grew close. He planned a search party to go look for you, and he was also the one to find your body. Your body was layer out in a bush, dried blood covered your mouth, and dripped down your chin and onto your clothes. The sight of your body covered in blood and plants left him devastated. he wished to have you back- he needed to have you back. He hadn't even gotten the chance to tell you how much he longed for your love, your touch, you affection.

Then, A thought entered his mind. Forced its way to the center of attention in his thoughts. In his mind.

"What if I can bring them back?"

It sounded crazy at first, but the more he thought. The more he stared at your corps. The more the idea seemed possible. He told everyone of the news, it brought disparity to everyone, and they were surprised to see the glint of hope that kept Wally eyes bright. He took you body home that day, then got straight to work. He was alone, sad for 2 weeks, and 4 days exactly until something happened.

He heard something, someone.

"Wally? What are you doing? And why is my body here!?"

It was you! You were back! He could see your face be so lively again! But the sight before him wasn't what he wanted... You were transparent, see through. His shoulders slumped. You were there, and with him. Just not with him. You were something else...

꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

An: so I came up with this Au not too long ago, th I'm really excited to see where this goes. I definitely plan to make chapters tho<3 I did make this art, so please don't steal.

#x reader #reader insert #wally darling x reader #wally welcome home #welcome home #wally darling #wally darling au #wally fanart #wally au #wally darling fanart #wh au #gn reader

[butwhypants]

I have a question and I’m not trying to be annoying. I just want to understand because I feel like I have been misunderstanding how Zionism should work.

Obviously, Zionism is the belief that a Jewish state should exist in Israel. The thing I’ve been misunderstanding is how this can be achieved while protecting the Muslim arabs.

What I mean is, there are a lot of Arabs in West Bank and Gaza, and if Israel gave full citizenship to these people, they would outnumber Israeli jews, and this it would no longer be a Jewish state.

How, realistically, would the Jewish state, protect the rights of the Arabs while remaining fundamentally Jewish?

The main solution I have seen is a two-state solution, but I feel like that would force Jews to leave their homes in the West Bank.

I understand if you aren’t comfortable answering this - I’d just like to try to understand both sides. It’s hard to get unbiased info from the news.

Thanks for the polite question.

The problem with the question I think here is twofold, first Zionism is a very specific word. Zion is the name for the hill that Jerusalem is built on, and was used by the Israeli people when we were taken as slaves to Babylon in the 5th century BC. Zionism isn't inherently about a Jewish state existing, but about the right of the Israelite people to return to Zion, now known as Jerusalem.

The second problem, and I don't mean this with any disrespect, is that you've fallen for the Great Replacement theory as espoused by Ben Shapiro and Elon Musk. It's a very common and very insidious idea, which is based on the idea that if "foreign" cultures were allowed to come in to a society that they would outnumber and overthrow the people currently there. That's not true, and in fact a majority of the Palestinian people ARE Israeli citizens, with full legal and voting rights. Israel is not a theocracy (significantly more religious diversity then the US has for example), and maintaining a religious majority should not and can not be our goal. Allowing the Jewish people self determination in our homeland does not have to correlate with oppression or discrimination against the Palestinian people who also live there.

This current war betrays the fact that there is a long history of cooperation and conflict between all these groups - Eretz Israel is the most contentiously fought over piece of land in the history of the world, and this current war isn't even in the top one hundred most deadly. On the other hand though, cooperation has happened before and it will happen again. Muslims and Jews are not automatically enemies - we've both been willing to make sacrifices on hardline religious interpretations for the sake of peace before, and I hope we can do so again.

Fundamentally, the Jewish people have a long history of living in Israel and we have the right to live there safe and free. However, the Palestinian people ALSO have a long history of living in Israel and have the right to live there safe and free. There is no solution here that will create a mono-state of any culture or religion, and especially not when it is the most important place to 4 billion disparate people.

#I'm not a politician and I won't pretend I can solve a millennia old conflict #but I truly feel that Gaza needs a central leadership that can be interacted with and can take responsibility for its own actions #like Israel and Jordan have #we have all been living here for millennia and we will all be living here for millennia more #I don't think a two-state solution will work because of the depths of the religious conflict #Hamas will always hate Israel. Houthi will always hate Jews. The Likud will always oppose Palestinian sovereignty. #An end to this conflict will come from internal political changes on both sides #but my understanding of the history of the region does not give me an answer for the future I'm sorry #Jumblr #I ramble

[hekateinhell]

you already know why i’m here. our house chapter seven please please please i’m nothing

I do know LMAO. As soon as I wrote it, I knew if anyone asked for it, it was going to be you. 🥹 So this would have been the immediate next chapter after what's already up on ao3. I started writing this version I think September 2022 and I just never continued?

We've seen Armand explore his feminine side and his relationship to that a bit already, so in this chapter, I wanted to focus on his more masculine side just for a minute. I also wanted to illustrate a bit of their lives outside of each other. I'll just put everything I have in the doc here, just for you! ♥️

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well, I think it’s cute,” Daniel bent down to press a kiss to Armand’s scruffy cheek, the first time in four years he’d ever actually seen the product of Armand forgoing shaving for an entire week.

It took a moment’s getting used to; not quite a five-o-clock shadow anymore, not quite a beard yet, darker than the auburn on his head by a couple tones.

Armand sighed, shifting so that his lips caught Daniel’s, more touching, resting in place, than kissing. “I wish you could work home from today,” he whispered. “I keep thinking something’s going to happen. I know I’m crazy but…” Armand trailed off, his forehead coming to rest against Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel gently rubbed his back, feeling the tension he was carrying.

“I know, baby,” hard for Armand not to be tense these days, given everything. “It’s a short day for me, and then I’ll meet you at Dr. Lydia’s at 3:30?”

He tangled his fingers through Armand’s wild hair, trying to soothe him as if he were one of the cats. Armand hadn’t felt the house in a week, and it showed. Decided he could delegate the physical tasks to a temp and do everything else virtually.

Daniel didn’t think it was depression, exactly. Armand certainly seemed happy and animated whenever Daniel was around. He still showered, ate, and slept. His appetite, in regards to food and sex, was as healthy as could be. He wasn’t starved for company either; in fact, Daniel hadn’t come home to an apartment with less than five people in it all week.

Some people he knew well, some he didn’t. Bianca, Laurent, Felix, Santiago. Armand’s European friends. As soon as Daniel’s key turned in the lock, the crew cleared out with an overlapping chorus of hellos and goodbyes — did nobody work anymore? Daniel had asked and Armand had shrugged and said, “They get by, I suppose.” Then he hurled himself at Daniel, demanding to be carried to the bedroom for a pre-dinner romp.

It seemed to Daniel he was getting laid a lot lately. There had always been a disparity in their libidos, once the honeymoon phase wore off. And to be fair, when they’d met, Daniel was trying and failing at AA and snorting conspicuous amounts of coke to compensate. He might as well as have been on Viagra those first three months. Set some very unrealistic expectations, bit of false advertising and all that.

They hadn’t clued right away after he’d started NA, because for the first time in his life, this wasn’t a relationship he wanted to escape from. He wanted to do better, see what might happen if he showed up as his best, sober self.

Only Armand’s whining and bouncing on his lap, overlappingly sleep-deprived and aroused because Daniel’s been fucking his brains out since midnight and it was 3 AM and couldn’t they go one more round please oh please? Just like last time and the time before that and the time before that!

What was different tonight?

It had been so weird to say, looking down at his limp dick that was doing most of the talking as it was, “It doesn’t wanna work, babe, I don’t know what to tell you.” Hadn’t run into this problem in years.

Armand gave him a childish pout that Daniel was sure was more real than fake. He’d rolled off him and curled by his side, pressing his face against Daniel’s neck. Giggling when he said, “I ought to give you a hickey,” like they were teenagers.

“Go for it.”

He did, sucking hard at the skin on Daniel’s throat, subconsciously and then not-so-subconsciously humping Daniel’s hip until he finished a fourth time with a low, deep moan, finally satiated and worn out.

Lucky it was January, seeing as Daniel had to wear turtlenecks for the next two days after Armand had massacred him. The little vampire.

“I’m not sure I can keep up with you,” he’d mumbled over the cereal the next morning.

“What are you talking about?” Armand’s smiling at him, having opted to bring his chair beside Daniel’s instead of staying at the opposite end.

It hurt a bit to say, “What if I can’t keep with you, like with your sex drive, and you just get bored of me?”

“You can’t be serious!” Armand laughed before the look on Daniel’s face stopped him cold. “Danny,” he reached for Daniel’s much larger hand, intertwining their fingers and pressing their palms together.

“Danny, look…” He stared down at the granola in front of him, as if it might grant him the strength to get through what he was about to say. “I like you. I am a lot, I know that! But I don’t need you to ‘keep up with me’. I’m perfectly capable of keeping up with myself.”

#ask game! #i’ll answer all of these i promise school is just kicking my butt! #armand/daniel #fic:our house

[swissmissficrecs]

My favorite fics of 2022

I didn’t get as much reading in this year, so the list is shorter than in past years but no less sweet. In order of length:

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John find themselves faced with a series of seemingly disparate cases that are growing increasingly connected, increasingly personal. They must unravel the mystery laid before them by a particularly ruthless set of criminals before the danger is upon them, or else run the risk of being cleaved apart forever, lines scattered to the wind.

Slipstream by khorazir (290K, M, Johnlock) It’s going to be the last Tour de France for professional cyclist John Watson. Despite the hardships of cycling more than 3000 kilometres in three weeks, in blistering heat and torrential rain, over dangerous cobblestones in northern France and the mountains of the Alps and the Pyrenees, battling thirst, hunger, injury and exhaustion, not to mention bitchy rivals, doping allegations, and the ever scoop-hungry press, he is going to enjoy the ride, damn it. That’s what John keeps telling himself – until he meets his new teammate, Sherlock Holmes, who adds a whole new list of problems as well as an extra dose of excitement to John’s life.

The Last Envoy by Calais_Reno (127K, M, Johnlock) April 1938. Sherlock is a very human alien who comes to Earth with a mission he doesn't completely understand and quickly falls in love-- with the planet, the people, and a certain army doctor. There will be angst: war begins and he is caught up in events he cannot control, while still trying to fulfill his purpose in being here.

Matchmaking for Solitary Animals by ArwaMachine (71K, E, Johnlock) Upon moving back to Baker Street following Sherlock’s return from the dead, John finds that Sherlock is a bit more keen on entertaining gentlemen callers than he once was, a fact that seems to make John irrationally angry. Intent on proving that he’s not a total dick, John decides to make it his mission to find Sherlock a boyfriend. This, as it turns out, is the worst idea John has ever had.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Whirlwind by DiscordantWords (50K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) New job, new truck, new fiancée... John Watson, former storm chaser, has settled into a comfortable new life. There's only one problem: John's already married. And the the divorce papers he's been sending to his former partner, Sherlock Holmes, keep going missing. So with his fiancée Mary by his side, John reluctantly makes a trip to see him in the hopes of finalizing their divorce once and for all. But John arrives in the midst of a very active storm season, and Sherlock very clearly hasn’t let go of the past. Against his better judgement, John finds himself talked into riding along after one last storm.

Accidental Magic by Calais_Reno (39K, M, Johnlock) Soon after his return (TEH), Sherlock takes the case of a woman seeking stolen books hidden in her late husband’s library. He invites John to come with him. Working together after so much time apart, they begin to discover more than stolen books.This isn’t really a story about magic, except for the ordinary kind of magic that happens when people realise they’re in love and it’s time to do something about it. That kind of magic is the best kind.

Blue Plaques by JRow (36K, M, Johnlock) John’s engagement is off, and he is back at the place he feels most at home — 221B Baker Street. It’s been a bit of an adjustment (he does miss the regular hugs and snuggles) but John is happy, and it seems like Sherlock is too. John certainly loves working on a good case with his mad flatmate, so he’s thrilled when Greg asks for their help in figuring out how Colin Mahon is continuing to run his drugs operation while out on bail and under constant surveillance. It must have something to do with Mahon’s daily travels (on foot) to a slew of seemingly boring London sights. But in the process of solving this little mystery, will John accidentally reveal a secret of his own?

A Scandal at Paladia by disfictional (34K, E, Johnlock) An ill-fated visit to Uncle Rudy's drag bar unlocks a memory of John's past- a memory that wreaks havoc on their sex life. John has a secret, and Sherlock is determined to solve the case.

Jam by JRow (34K, M, Johnlock) John needs some time to recharge after the physically and emotionally draining case in Dartmoor. On a whim, he books a couple of days in Falmouth and (somehow) convinces Sherlock to join him. During the impromptu minibreak, the nature of John and Sherlock’s relationship begins to shift. Things get even better upon their return home to London. But are the two men on the same page about what they’ve become?

What Happens to the Heart by Susan (31K, M, Johnlock) Someone wants John Watson dead and is willing to pay a lot of money to make it happen. Hitmen, old grudges, new grudges and lots of kissing.

Cupid's Venom by SilentAuror (29K, E, Johnlock) Over drinks one night, Mike Stamford reveals to Sherlock that he always wished he could have taken credit for being Sherlock and John's Cupid. Unfamiliar with the reference, Sherlock plunges into studies of toxins and Greek mythology...

The Best Seats in The House by J_Baillier (22K, T, Johnlock) Nature photographer John Watson is trying to do the same as the locals: getting the hell of the way when the killer queen of Indonesian's volcanoes starts a drumbeat towards eruption. Little does he know that soon, he'll be headed straight into the danger zone.

Both Sides Now by Silvergirl (14K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock, undercover on the Norfolk coast, texts that he needs help; John is still seething after Sherlock’s gambit in the train car, and he refuses. When Sherlock goes missing, Mycroft sends John in to pose as Sherlock’s bit on the side.

Plus these bonus fics from 2021 that I read after posting my 2021 list and deserve a spot:

Know You All Over Again by PoppyAlexander (53K, M, Johnlock) After five good years, one difficult one, and six months that were hell, John and Sherlock live apart but still share custody of seven-year-old Rosie. With therapy, supportive friends, and those inevitable dance recitals and open school days forcing them into each other's paths again and again, anger and bitterness fade, leaving space for a new view of each other across the divide.

The Oak Tree and the Cypress by FinAmour (43K, E, Johnlock) Things Sherlock didn't expect to happen at midnight on a Thursday: for John to be kissing him. For John's lips to be so delicious. For his own mouth, stung by the sweetness, to kiss John back—or for his hands to raise to John's cheeks in order to lengthen it. He didn't expect his heart to be bursting with pure joy and relief, or for their night to end with John in a hospital bed. And he certainly did not expect to turn them into fake husbands.

Previous favorites lists: 2010 / 2011 / 2012 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021

#best #rec list

[queer-geordie-nerd]

A nuanced and insightful interview with Mira from November 1996, in the middle of filming S4 of Babylon 5 - it touches on her war time experiences in Yugoslavia and the events that drove her from her home, and the similarities between her own life and that of Delenn. Once again, I am bowled over by the incredible integrity and courage she possessed:

STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

It's the one subject that pains Mira Furlan to discuss. The one subject that invades her privacy. The one subject that so violates her very soul.

And yet, it's the one subject that can't be avoided.

Nearly five years to the day of this interview, Furlan left her homeland of Yugoslavia, which was about to be engulfed in a bloody and horrific civil war. Ethnic passions restrained by decades of Communist rule had been unleashed by its collapse. Fascistic Nationalists arose to take its place, many of them former Communists. In their lust for power, they tore apart a nation of disparate republics and peoples that had once been a dream of poets, intellectuals and writers.

As one of Yugoslavia's most prestigious actors, Furlan risked her life and fortune to perform in cities on both sides, in Croatia and in Serbia. She hoped that she could be a bridge of unity, a symbol of pacifism, a clarion warning what terrible price their country would pay for unleashing the war their leaders were about to start.

Except for her husband, Goran Gajic, no one supported her.

Her colleagues abandoned her. Nationalist demagogues threatened to have her killed. Anonymous death threats were left on her answering machine.

She could not go silently. Before she left Yugoslavia, Furlan picked up her pen and wrote a farewell letter to her country. The letter was published a few days later in Zagreb (the capital of Croatia) and Belgrade (the capital of Serbia), cities on opposite sides of the coming war. It began:

“I hereby wish to thank my co-citizens who have joined so unreservedly in this small, marginal and apparently not particularly significant campaign against me. Although marginal, it will change and mark my whole life. Which is, of course, totally irrelevant in the context of the death, destruction, devastation and bloodchilling crimes within which our life now goes on.

This is happening, however, to the one and only life I have. It seems that I've been chosen for some reason to be the filthy rag everyone uses to wipe the mud off their shoes. I am far too desperate to embark on a series of public polemics in the papers. I do, however, feel that I owe myself and my city at least a few words. Like at the end of some clumsy, painful love story, when you keep wanting, wrongly, to explain something more, even though you know at the bottom of your heart that words are wasted; there is no one left to hear them. It is over.”

In Yugoslavia, Furlan was a leading actress of film, television and stage. She appeared in over 25 films, and won two Golden Arenas for Best Actress, their equivalent of the Oscar. Among her acclaimed theatrical roles were Ophelia in Hamlet, Celimene in The Misanthrope, and the title role in Euripides' Helen.

Under socialist rule, the arts were state-funded. "Your star status didn't mean that you were making money. But there were other advantages. Money was not the main obsession. The absence of money gave you a certain degree of creative freedom. We had all the time in the world. Movies were shot forever. Theatre plays were rehearsed forever. I personally was bored with that; things were not quick enough for me. But you had the luxury of having time to explore, to enjoy the creative process. These were the few advantages of living in socialism."

The notion of "freedom" in the arts in a socialist country may come as a surprise to Americans raised on Cold War propaganda asserting the opposite. "With my generation, the Communists were dying off," Furlan said. "Their grip on the artists' community was not as strong as after the war (World War II), when you could be in prison for just saying the wrong sentence. So we didn't feel it. I grew up totally despising them - the so-called them - and not having anything to do with them. And they left me alone. So there was relative freedom. Theatre was free because no one cared, basically. It was so marginal to the cause of the regime that people were left to do what they wanted. Film was much more dangerous, thus much more controlled."

That started to change when the Nationalists came to power. "The Yugoslav Communists didn't have the force that these new Nationalists now have, because these new leaders feel that the world is starting from them. They're creating new realities, new history, new language, new values. There's always this passion in the beginning; as a citizen, you don't want to be touched by that passion, because it can cost you your life."

Life in the former Yugoslavia was a political lifestyle largely unknown to Americans. "It was a double life. People had their own private thoughts. Publicly, they behaved as was prescribed; the majority were members of the Communist Party. Opportunism ruled. I think all Eastern Europeans have that built in — no confidence in any government, in any politicians. But, a contradiction! When Communism collapsed, Nationalism was born out of the old Communism. Trained in opportunism, people easily converted from Communism to Nationalism. That's the irony of it. Nothing has changed. The same people, the same names. The same faces. They just converted, switched just like that. That's what's so ugly in that whole situation. You just watch it and cannot believe that people don't remember what they were saying just two months ago. They didn't learn anything. They actually jumped into the first trap, completely surrendering to those new Nationalist leaders that brought them only pain lsss and devastation."

“I have no other way of thinking. I cannot accept war as the only solution, I cannot force myself to hate, I cannot believe that weapons, killing, revenge, hatred, that such an accumulation of evil will ever solve anything. Each individual who personally accepts the war is in fact an accessory to the crime; must he not then take a part of the guilt for the war, a part of the responsibility?”

"Historically, there were all kinds of frustrations on all sides, among all the peoples of the former Yugoslavia. There was a general feeling that each of these peoples who lived together in the former Yugoslavia had been somehow abused by the others. And there was a lot of truth in that. Nationalism is always partly grounded in truth. The Nationalists' politics manipulated the existing anger and frustration of the people and put their emphasis on that, and that's how the war started. The new Nationalists, who were for the most part converted Communists, took all the media. Journalists, I think, and media in general, bear an incredible responsibility for what happened."

The Babylon 5 episode being filmed during this interview, "The Illusion of Truth," has some eerie parallels. An ISN news crew films a documentary on B5, only to use the footage in a propaganda film for President Clark's fascist regime. It's an allegory for how America was consumed by Senator Joe McCarthy's witch hunts in the 1950s. "Sometimes I'm so appalled by what Joe (Straczynski) knows. I happened to experience a witch hunt — as an object! — but it's nothing new. Old stuff."

Furlan drew the attention of the Nationalists after she travelled from her home in Zagreb, Croatia to Belgrade, Serbia to perform at the annual BITEF Festival. BITEF was an international theatre event attended by actors from across Europe. She believed that her participation was a statement that her profession should not be drawn into supporting any political or national ideas. She felt it was her responsibility to establish bridges and ties, "for the sake of something that would outlive this war and this hatred which is so foreign to me," she wrote at the time. But the political leaders in Croatia were furious with her — and targeted her as an example of what would happen to others who chose the same path. Fearful for their careers, if not for their lives, and perhaps even sympathetic of the Nationalist cause, none of her colleagues spoke up to defend her.

“I think, I know and I feel that it is my duty, the duty of our profession, to build bridges. To never give up on cooperation and community. Not that national community. The Professional community. The human community. And even when things are at their very worst, as they are now, we must insist to our last breath on building and sustaining a bond between people. This is how we pledge to the future. And one day it will come . . .

I was willing and I would still be willing to undertake all and any efforts, if the hatred hadn't suddenly overwhelmed me with its horrendous ferocity, hatred welling from the city I was born in. I am appalled by the force and magnitude of that hatred, by its perfect unanimity, by the fact that there was absolutely nobody who could see my gesture as my defense of the integrity of the profession, as my attempt to defend at least one excellent theatre performance.”

"People's behavior is mainly built on fear. People think, 'Let them destroy her but just leave us alone.' When the media went crazy in Yugoslavia, I was a good example. I was a perfect target. I was a totally unprotected woman. Woman, that's very important. The war propaganda was constantly in search of 'internal enemies' just to homogenize the people, and to put fear in their heads so they could manipulate them. It's interesting that the majority of the 'internal enemies' were women. It's a very misogynist culture. It's a very misogynist world. I happen to be partly Jewish, and that came into the picture nicely. And I was never very obedient in my life and career. I left projects that I didn't really believe in. I made some unexpected choices in my work and in my life. All of that got wrapped up - Liberal. Feminist. Whore. Jew. Everything. The media combined it into this juicy bundle and served it to the people, who devoured it."

Abandoned by her friends and colleagues, and living with the threat of assassination, Furlan and her husband left Yugoslavia on November 15, 1991 for New York. She left behind the open letter explaining her departure.

“I am sending this letter into a void, into darkness, without an inkling of who will read it and how, or in how many different ways it will be misused or abused. Chances are it will serve as food for the eternally hungry propaganda beast. Perhaps someone with a pure heart will read it after all.

I will be grateful to that someone.”

American life and culture were a difficult adjustment, both in her profession and her personal life. Furlan has found the acting profession, indeed the entire entertainment industry, radically different from what she knew. Unlike in Yugoslavia, she found that diverse acting talents in the United States were rarely appreciated, much less rewarded.

"It's a European tradition among actors. Serious actors build their career in the theatre," Furlan said. "It's a completely different thing in America. The theatre is so marginal. The theatre doesn't matter because it's not mass culture. It's not the money-making machine. So yeah, I've learned that. We had a crash course in capitalism in the toughest spot. Hollywood is probably the toughest spot on Earth that way, the most cruel. It's a struggle, it's a fight. It's all about publicity and agents and names. That's what I really hate about being an actor here. I hated many things about acting in Yugoslavia. I was frustrated, and felt hopeless as an actor in socialism. I hated many things there, but I really miss concentrating on my work, which should be enough ideally, and it's not. Here, it's just a tiny part of everything else. Everything else is much more important, and you have to do so much of it yourself because no one else cares. Doing stuff that takes away your energy and your concentration and your precious time. These telephone conversations with people who have no interest in you, who don't have interest in anything but quick and easy money."

Babylon 5 is Furlan's first major television role in the United States; in fact it was one of her first auditions. It was also her introduction to science fiction. "I'm completely new to this whole thing. I knew the basics of science fiction literature — Bradbury, Clarke, just general culture — but there wasn't anything remotely similar to this. I was shocked when I went to my first convention."

The similarities between Furlan's life and Delenn's travails are striking. But it seems that it's no more than an amazing coincidence. According to Furlan, Straczynski didn't even know about her personal history when she was hired to play Delenn. "He surprises me so many times. And sometimes I feel as if he's written something directly for me. But he didn't know anything about me. Nothing. When the series started, we talked and he found out."

Furlan was an only child, raised among adults in a family of university professors. What was it that led her into acting? "It was a game! I always wanted to study languages. I studied English and French when I finished high school. I did them together, languages and acting. I went to the Academy for Film, Theatre and TV, and the University. But it was the other part of me, the part that wants to play, that finally won over the serious part, the one who sits at home and reads and learns and does research. It started as a game, it started as 'Let's play.'

"When I started at the Academy, they always used me for comedy, for light, playful stuff. Then I did a play in which something clicked in me. It was an English play in a famous little avant garde theatre, with only me and another actor. It was a very heavy play about marriage, marriage in three stages, which ends with this woman committing suicide on stage. I was so much younger than the part I played, but it completely opened this world of reality in acting. It started a journey inward for me. Once you experience that, once you open up in that way - people talk about getting in touch with your emotions, that's what you do in acting. That's your main job. That's your profession.

"That's why I miss theatre. That's the beauty of doing theatre. You are in touch with the greatest writers of world literature. Their thoughts, their characters. That's unbeatable. That's a pleasure in itself, no matter in what way it forwards your so-called career. I miss film. I miss having time to try things to discover subtleties, layers, little things. The comforting thing on Babylon 5 is Joe's writing, which sometimes touches the depth of the classic literature."

If Straczynski were to ask her to write a B5 episode, what story would she tell?" I have an image for some reason of the set for The Wizard of Oz. I'm in the middle, kind of a Dorothy figure. On one side is G'Kar, and on the other side is Londo, and we walk towards some incredible adventure. Having them on each side of me would make me feel strong and protected, and I would dare to go anywhere!" She suggests that her cat could play Toto, and we agree that cats are very Minbari.

Babylon 5 is fiction. But much of that fiction is rooted in reality, the reality of our 20th Century. It's easy to turn off the TV each week at the end of the hour, put away the popcorn bowl and say, "Aw, that couldn't happen here." But it has. It does. And it will.

Delenn is a fictional character, but Mira Furlan is not. It's easy for a fictional character to risk her life for a cause. For a living human being with friends, family, and a successful career, that decision is much more difficult. Fiction often poses for its characters the question, "Will you sacrifice all for what you believe?" In the fictional world of Babylon 5, that question is, "Who are you?" Reality rarely presents any of us with that challenge. Few of us will ever know what our answer would be.

All Mira Furlan ever wanted was to experience the pure joy of acting, the inward exploration of her soul, and to share that exploration with her audience. But history forced her to explore down unseen paths, paths of darkness, the same paths that took countless lives in her homeland. History demanded, "Who are you?"

Mira answered, and suffered for it. She and Goran have started a new life in America, strangers in a strange land. Their experience reminds us that life may one day demand a test of our integrity. If it does, let us hope that we are equal to their courage.

#mira furlan #babylon 5 #delenn #incredible woman #may her memory be a blessing

[denimbex1986]

'When it was announced that Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal would be starring as lovers in All of Us Strangers, a film written and directed by Andrew Haigh, fans were buzzing on social media about what the combination would deliver. This was no surprise: Andrew Scott – already a celebrated actor from roles such as Moriarty in Sherlock, the ‘hot priest’ in Fleabag, and Gethin in the incredible 2014 film Pride – and Paul Mescal (Normal People, Aftersun) are the definition of queer catnip. Under director Haigh’s masterful eye, the end product is an enthralling exploration of what it means to be queer in today’s Britain. Even ahead of its general UK release, the film has already made an impact and literally shifted the language we use about gay/queer representation on screen.

Haigh – acclaimed for past feature films Weekend and 45 Years, as well as HBO series Looking – has crafted a tender examination of love in the shadow of shame. An enigmatic dive into the pain and pleasure of finding affection in another man through the constrictive confines of emotional isolation, All of Us Strangers excels on so many levels.

The premise: forty-something Adam (Scott) meets Mescal’s twenty-something Harry, and the pair begin a love affair that has Adam revisiting his childhood home and conjuring up the ‘ghosts’ of his dead parents. And no, that’s not a spoiler, it’s just the opening scenes of a film that examines a love affair between two gay/queer men of disparate ages whose very different life experiences have brought them unexpectedly together. What happens next? Well, that’s for you to discover in a movie theatre near you. Essentially, All of Us Strangers is one of the most enthralling films of the 21st century to explore British gay identity, and Scott delivers quite possibly the performance of his career to date, one that dances between visceral suffering and emotional vulnerability.

Here, Scott talks to Attitude about bringing his character Adam to life on screen, working through shame, and the power of sex as a means of communication.

Cliff Joannou: A good place to start is to say that I really related to the film. I grew up in Croydon not long after director Andrew Haigh did, so the environment and era that it was set in really resonated with me.

Andrew Scott: You’re joking me.

For real. Even that shot with you as your character Adam walking through the Whitgift Shopping Centre, I was like, ‘Oh, that’s a little bit close to home.’ That’s exactly what it looked like when I was a kid. What resonated most with you in the story? For me it was very much the setting and location, being a young child in the UK after the worst of the AIDS crisis.

I suppose it was the dynamics within the relationships, that was what I found most authentic. And there’s two storylines within the movie, and both of them I found to be really, really beautiful and very actable. The scenes between Adam and his parents are genuinely extraordinary. And what’s so lovely is when I was in LA after the film had come out, and audiences had started to see it, and I’m really getting such a strong sense that people really do appreciate the nuance of the film.

I think the chief value of the film, for queer audiences particularly, is that it recognises that the dynamic within families isn’t always necessarily as dramatic, perhaps, as it is portrayed sometimes in stories about coming out, in the sense that it’s not fully embraced acceptance and nor is it outward rejection, but for a lot of queer people it’s somewhere in between, so that brutality and intolerance and doubt can exist alongside real love within families.

Absolutely. I like how frank the conversations are between Adam and his parents. I also like how early the conversation about Adam’s sexuality comes up with his parents.

What I love about that scene is that he doesn’t want to come out to his mum, he doesn’t want to have a coming-out scene. He’s a man in his forties, and he’s lived a life on his own for 30 years, so he wants to tell her about himself, and that includes, of course, him being gay, so he tries to be offhand about it, but also, I think my challenge was to show that he deeply cares what she thinks as well. And when she starts to be loud and wrong and reveals some prejudice in her questions, it enrages him.

But I think that exists alongside a real deep need for her to accept him, too. I think that scene is just so beautiful because it’s something, of course, that he’ll have thought about given the fact that he lost his parents 30 years ago. One of the things that I find really moving is when people talk about having lost their parents and never having come out to them before they died. I’ve talked to 60-year-old men who say, “I never got to do that.” And I think that really takes up a lot of people’s time.

Did you discuss with Andrew [Haigh] any of Adam’s wider backstory or did you create one for yourself? Where had he been in that time in between?

Not with a huge amount of detail because I suppose I thought of what benefit was that going to be. There were certain things I sort of thought about a little bit, but my biggest challenge, and all of our challenges, was to make those scenes as authentic as possible. We shot in Andrew’s childhood home, and that was such a brave thing for him to do. And I felt very much that if I were to think about any backstory, I wanted to think about my own; I wanted to bring my own stuff. To bring not necessarily my own biography, because it differs a huge amount from the character’s, but certainly my own emotional biography, as I call it.

It feels like such an extraordinary privilege to be able to play a character like this. And I wanted to give as much of myself because it was cathartic for me. I never thought that I would be able to watch a film like this, let alone be at the centre of it, so I wanted to be able to take that opportunity to express myself in some way. Why pick an imaginary backstory from somewhere else? I wanted to bring as much of myself as I could, because I feel like that’s what the audience is going to relate to the most.

There’s a bit early in the film when Adam meets his parents’ ‘ghosts’ for the first time, and he says, “Everything’s different now.” It’s such a powerful line as it highlights the character’s inability to let go of the past because doing so means he has to confront his present unhappiness.

Yes, exactly. Well, I suppose one of the best things that you can do as an actor is to say things to feel one thing but to say something else. That’s always what you want as an actor. A lot of the real interesting lines in the film are where people are saying one thing but meaning something else. When Adam says, “Everything’s different now,” I’m not sure that he fully believes that. He believes it in some way. But one of the things that I really love about the story is when Paul’s character of Harry talks about his estrangement from his family and he’s somebody who’s in his twenties.

I’m not sure the generational difference between Adam and Harry is the most interesting thing about the film. I think one of the big changes, of course, is the presence of Aids, when Adam would’ve been growing up. I certainly know that the shadow of Aids was very looming when I was growing up in the nineties. And, of course, that’s going to affect the way we think about sexuality in the sense that we’re going to feel like we’re going to be punished for being physical or for expressing love.

There’s another impactful moment where Adam says, “I thought if I fucked anyone I’d die.” It took me a while to get my head out of that space and allow my sexuality to be something that I enjoyed and recognise that it was not a threat to my life. How was your journey to finding peace with your sexuality?

Oh, it’s one of the wonderful things, the emancipation from that. I feel so incredibly… I suppose I just enjoy being gay so much on so many levels, I think it’s such a wonderful thing to me. It’s an extraordinary gift to my life and just to be able to see the real beauty in being gay is completely wonderful. The older I get, just the more I feel so lucky to have been born gay and that pervades my life in the sense of all my friendships. I have so many amazing queer friends in my life now that I just adore.

What’s very sad for some of us is that we avoid those kinds of people when we are shredded in our own shame. To be around other gay people highlights something that you don’t want to see, but when you do want to see it, it becomes completely wonderful. I feel such a huge sense of camaraderie with other queer people now, and without sounding too hippy about it, I feel like I just want to spread that love and positivity in our community because we’ve come such a long way, and it’s important that we are kind and look out for each other and celebrate how uniquely different and how fucking wonderful that can be.

That’s beautiful. I remember when I was younger and less comfortable in my identity, I avoided going to Pride, I felt it was a little bit too in my face. Now as I get older, I go there with my nieces, and we watch the parade, and there’s a tremendous sense of healing that comes with being around the community. And the broader the community gets, the more all these letters in that ever-expanding acronym stand out, the more beautiful it gets.

When I see two people of the same sex holding hands walking down the street, I’m like a little weirdo. I’m smiling at them. They’re like, ‘What’s that dude smiling at us for?’ Because I just think it’s so wonderful. It’s easy what you say about everything is different now. It’s something that I always feel when people say, “Oh, it’s 2024, you’ve got to get with the times.” I always find that preposterous because, and I mean this so vehemently, that different forms of sexual identity and gender identity have existed since the beginning of humanity. They have existed and will always exist until humanity ends. In 2084, they’re going to look back at us and think, ‘My God, those people were so old-fashioned.’ Sexuality, that’s not a fashion, it’s a natural state of being.

When I watch the relationship between Adam and Harry, there’s no point at which you feel like the sex scenes are being played for the audience’s titillation. It is one of those kind of rare sex scenes that actually drives the narrative forward, that it is important to the story.

Sex is just communication, isn’t it? It’s just physical communication rather than verbal communication. And what needed to be communicated is how I think we see Adam as somebody who hasn’t been touched by anybody or touched anybody in a long time, not just sexually, but he needs affection from his parents, and he needs love and sex and affection from his lover. And I think just seeing that tentativeness and the way Paul plays a character who’s a bit more sex-positive, so to speak… Their communication is really strong in that scene. I’m so proud of it. I really am because I feel like they represent the characters so beautifully.

How did you arrive at that point of playing those scenes in that way?

We didn’t over-rehearse it. We knew that those scenes, particularly the early ones, had to have a sort of frisson. And we had an intimacy coordinator, which can be very helpful for the simple reason that if you’re able to talk to somebody about your fears or what you want to show, what you don’t want to show, or what you think it should be and what the narrative of the storyline is, you have that base of safety. It actually makes you feel like you can do whatever you want. Because frankly, you just know that if there’s something that you don’t like, you’re contractually protected, and it won’t end up in the movie.

Andrew [Haigh] is really good. Sometimes when you do sex scenes, it can be like, ‘Oh my God, D-Day.’ And you are a bit nervous, of course, because you take your clothes off in front of strangers, but he’s like, “It’s just another scene,” so you don’t want to overdo it. But chemistry is a really interesting thing. You’re basically just listening to see what the other person is doing physically in the same way you would in a dialogue scene. And you can talk about that as much as you like, but until you’re actually there, it’s not alive in that way, so it’s just about listening, but just listening with your body, basically.

There’s a line in the film where Adam tells Harry, “Things are better now, but it doesn’t take much to feel the way that you felt.” Is there an instance where you remember, ‘Oh, that’s the first time I was made to feel shame?’

I don’t think that there is one particular point, but I do think if we could erase the assumption in our society that everybody is straight until proven otherwise, it would make an enormous difference to people. And by that, I mean that we don’t say to our six-year-olds, “You’re going to marry a princess, and have you got a girlfriend?” I remember when I was a teenager and people said, “Have you got a girlfriend?” I would say no, and I wasn’t necessarily lying, but you feel like you’re lying by omission.

For me, what happened is that you desexualise yourself slightly. And I think that what happens for a lot of teenagers is that there’s a conspiracy of silence around you, and that is a lonely place to be. And I think that’s where we become very hardworking, that we pour our energies into something completely different in order to correct what we imagine is a flaw in our character.

Some people go the opposite [way], where they become self-destructive; you can be super hardworking and incredibly ambitious, or you can just completely go off the rails. You think, ‘Well, I have been rejected, so I’m just going to go crazy.’ It affects our psychology in so many different ways. It may not necessarily be something that’s actually happened to us; it could be just forecasting what you think might happen, and that forecasting happens when we read about prejudice or other horror stories. The way the media talked about gay people when I was growing up was absolutely disgusting and fearmongering, and I still think we have to be very careful in not just the media, but in the way that we consume media and what we stand for. That we call out that kind of cruelty and intolerance. Language matters.

When we read the opposite, when we read positive things or see representation on screen, when we see ourselves, we think, ‘Oh, well, we can forge a way in the world.’ That’s why I think a movie like this, it is so incredibly important because it’s incredibly compassionate and tender, but it also doesn’t erase the fact that it’s painful and it can be lonely being gay. And there’s a certain thorny path that we all have to go to in order to find love, not just in another person, but in ourselves.

The clip from the Hollywood Reporter where you talk about the use of the term ‘openly gay’ went viral and has likely changed the way we refer to out queer actors in future forever. What went through your mind when you saw the reaction to that?

There’s something about that phrase that makes me uneasy about what it implies. Particularly now. You don’t put ‘openly ’in front of most attributes or characteristics. And I think we should maybe look at retiring it. And I know I’m not alone in that. The response to the clip reflects that. I do understand that historically we need a word to recognise the fact that there are sometimes people that are gay but for whatever reason aren’t able to be open about it. I totally get that. And so, I just feel the word ‘out’ does that. It’s just simpler. It does the job, and with less implications.'

#Andrew Scott #All of Us Strangers #Paul Mescal #The Hollywood Reporter #Andrew Haigh #Weekend #45 Years #Looking #HBO #Normal People #Aftersun #Fleabag #Hot Priest #Moriarty #Sherlock #Pride

[play-now-my-lord]

i particularly love pidgins and creoles, because they're so wiggly and unpredictable. like you can lay out broad-strokes rules for what might happen when speakers of disparate languages come into contact and have to communicate extensively, but every single one is its own creature.

I'm most familiar with Wawa, which was the lingua franca of the pacific northwest before colonization. "Chinuk wawa" is also used, but is ambiguous because it can also refer to the original Chinuk language; people spoke both languages at home, and it was a commonplace among Wawa speakers that the people most proficient at speaking the pidgin/creole were native speakers of Chinuk. That being said, there was a lot of non-overlap between vocabulary, meaning, etc - a lot of words and bits of grammar come from Nuu-chah-nulth, the sound inventory is slightly stripped down from Chinuk, and the vocabulary shows an increasing influence from French and English in later years. It's a fascinating language, and it's a crying shame settlers in the PNW don't even make a superficial effort to understand it anymore, half of the places here are named based on it

[athgalla-arts]

Ford and Fiddleford's Dynamic - Pt. 1

Alright, so I had expressed not long ago that I wanted to more exhaustively discuss my thoughts on Ford and Fiddleford’s dynamic, why I love it, and why I find it so compelling and enjoyable regardless of whether it is read as romantic, platonic, something in between, or something else altogether. I'm going to break this up into parts, too, hopefully that makes it a little easier to read. I know I'm a text-heavy person, so please bear with me!

I am going to do my best to focus on canon and interpreting it and keep the headcanons to a minimum for now. As I said, I believe their dynamic is wonderfully done and equally meaningful regardless of how you want to read it (although maybe it’s meaningful in slightly different ways depending on interpretation.). Ford and Fiddleford’s ‘arc’ excellently meshes with and manages to encapsulate the themes of the show as a whole – trust, love, and the gravity of these – how they can be broken and the severity of that, how these can  be flaws, the effort it can take to rebuild them, acceptance, embracing weirdness, and mystery. It’s difficult to truly pull their whole arc out and separate it from their relationships to other characters, but I’m going to do my best to focus on them and not get too side-tracked.

Let’s start off with some words from Alex Hirsch about their dynamic (thank you to @tazmiilly for finding this! the video it is from can be found here with the quote in question at 45:48)

“Everybody has that one friend in school who, like, school would be a nightmare without them. You know, like one person who is on your level who makes the same dumb jokes, is into the same weird games that you are, just like gets your sense of humor. And like, it can be the most meaningful thing in the world to have that person. I feel like every place I’ve been I have had at least one really good friend, who like… I can get through how awful it is because they’re there. And I think, y’know…McGucket and Ford were those kind of friends.”

Between this, Fiddleford’s enthusiastic acceptance of Ford’s request to help him build the portal, and Ford’s positively giddy reaction to seeing Fiddleford again in the 80s, I think we can safely assume they had a solid, steady bond. I’m going to backtrack now to Ford pre-college to set up some context that I think makes Alex’s description of their relationship in college so much more significant.

We know that throughout Ford’s formative years, he was practically attached at the hip to Stanley. They were inseparable, they were a team (though, of course, not without their differences). They shared a dream, trusted one another, and understood each other – although despite the understanding they do have, there are aspects of each other that are going to forever be disparate and difficult for the other to get. That’s normal and good! I love that Ford and Stan share so much yet stand out as unique people with their own way of viewing the world, unique interests, ways of handling things, and so on.

With the bullying they faced and the implied pressure at home, Stanley is the only (confirmed) positive relationship Ford seemed to have during his childhood and teen years. There is a lot we don’t know about what might have happened off-screen in their lives, but we know that Stan’s role was by and far the most significant to Ford. While their home situation leaves some room for interpretation, I think it is also safe to assume that pressure was heavy on both of them and that they experienced emotional abuse, at least from Filbrick (although it’s entirely possible this went further than we know, and we don’t get a good picture of how Caryn treated them either besides potential evidence for a somewhat detached relationship to them between ATOTS and Lost Legends).

Once Stan was kicked out and Ford was alone, I would bet that nearly all that pressure was now doubled down on him and all the scrutiny Stan had been under now fell to him. Ford’s a picture ‘golden child’ and all the high hopes his family had are looming over him while he’s dealing with major changes in his life – the heartbreak of losing his shot at WCT, losing Stan (and I would LOVE to know more about his feelings and thoughts on that whole scenario and how it would have gone if their argument had not been interrupted), trying to figure out his future and backup (heheh) college plans, and so on. Even if Ford wanted time to be independent and to chase his own dreams, at least for a time, I don’t think he ever wanted it to happen like this.

We now have Ford starting as a freshman at Backupsmore – far from his first choice of school, his expectations far from high and his outlook far from rosy. He’s completely on his own for the first time, still glaringly alone in Stan’s absence, although on a more positive note this may be his chance to be away from some of that hovering shadow of pressure from his family (at least to an extent) and away from the bullying and ostracization he experienced in Glass Shard Beach. It’s not perfect, but it’s new, and it’s a fresh start…sort of.

Enter Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

We don’t know the details of how they met or what their first impressions were of each other, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that regardless of circumstances, Ford was a little hesitant and timid at first just as a consequence of past experiences damaging his ability to readily trust others; however, while also being hesitant for good reason, we know Ford is also quite the golden retriever who is excited and happy to find people he shares interests and values with. He does place importance on connection to others. Once he likes someone, I get the impression he loves them quite fiercely, in his own way (and that he’s easily won over by kindness and compliments).

Regarding Alex’s words… well, now Ford finally has someone that not only shares many of his interests, enjoys other things he might be intrigued by, but someone who is earnest and kind, who sees him for who he is and understands him in a way he probably has not been understood before. It’s not to disparage the connection Ford had with his brother, but I think what he has with Stan and what he has with Fiddleford are two very distinct connections and types of understanding. On that note, in a way, I think that Fiddleford, initially, somewhat filled the void left in Stan’s absence for Ford, at least subconsciously (and honestly…it could have even been a bit of a Mabel and Dippy Fresh type situation with Fiddleford representing everything Ford, at the moment, wished he had all this time). I think once that he saw that Fiddleford was a genuine and kind person, that switch from hesitation to golden retriever was flipped in a nanosecond.

Unfortunately, we don’t see much of their relationship in college, but again, based on Alex’s description and how readily they connect down the line, we can assume that it was a positive situation based on trust and love. I do wish we knew more about whether they kept in contact regularly after college or not. I can see them being the type of friends who could talk weekly or not speak for years and pick up like it was yesterday. I do imagine that life got in the way and Ford’s tendency to isolate did not help, but I like to think they called and wrote from time to time, maybe in bursts of talking regularly for a bit and then not at all for quite a long stretch. I’m speculating now! Back to focus on canon…

#Gravity Falls #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Fiddleford McGucket

[subspaceember]

Thinking on Education

I just started reading a work on what I've learned is called "unschooling". I had never heard that term before now, however it seems to somewhat align with how I learned - or at least some of how I learned. Growing up I was homeschooled. This is something that I've given quite a lot of thought about over the years. Sometimes I've felt more or less distraught about my childhood education. I used to wonder if a lot of what I thought were social shortcomings were influenced by my homeschooling. After much further reflection - I think that disparity has much more to do with my autism and queerness, rather than simply my education; and from living in a system designed to leave people like me out - or worse destroy us. However I also know that my homeschooling adventure wasn't perfect. Namely because my parents weren't perfect. I remember fondly the aspects of my education which aligned with unschooling much better than the parts that were home-schooling. Examples include my learning how to program computers, and disassembling VCRs, and looking at mushrooms and birds, and looking them up in books. My parents did do a decent enough job providing me with access to some amount of resources for allowing me to just learn and explore what I wanted to. However, then came church.

My parents and nearly all of my family are deeply lost in stuffy Baptist churches that smell of dust and rubbery green beans and sound like casual bigotry and fluorescent lamps. I grew up in churches like that. So the lecturing and conforming that I lacked at home, I got from church. I remember Sunday school lessons taught by long-retired school teachers who smelled of gas station cigarettes and thought the paddle was the best thing to ever happen to kids. In my reflection now, church was worse than school in most regards. It pushed rhetoric and the idea that there was a "norm" I had to comply with. Then it pushed homophobia and causal racist remarks. And then it followed me home.

Growing up was confusing in many regards, because for every interesting thing I could chase down, there was something else my parents refused to let me explore. Mushrooms and plants and computers and electronics were all fine. But then then there would be something that clashed with the church. They refused to teach evolution, refused to teach anything about sex or gender, refused to comment on racism or queer identities. I remember when I first started getting curious about sex, I worked up to it, and then asked my parents about masturbating. Their response? "Never do that again." That was all I got. This was very confusing to me, why was this off-limits? I started having other questions, questions I couldn't get the answer to, I started wanting to explore what it would be like to be fem instead. But that knowledge definitely wasn't allowed (not that they had it in the first place). It wouldn't be until much later that I would learn of transitioning, and hormones and gender and sex. Because that was forbidden knowledge.

Then, there were dad's meetings.

Now I know them as alt-right neo-Nazis. The people he hung around with. We would go every Tuesday to the meeting. Men and women were not allowed to sit together. The room would be literally divided in half. Then they would start talking. What was said in those rooms was beyond causal racism and bigotry. It was hatred. They hated anyone different, anyone who didn't conform. Even back then, I knew I was a part of what they hated. While they spouted how much they hated minorities, I drew robots and circuits and plants on their printouts. Printouts that said they were going to go stand in front of monuments to long-dead racist fascists - and shoot anyone who got too close with assault rifles. On top of those words, I drew flowers.

I understand now why I felt the way I did about public school, about the system, when I was younger. The truth is, I was never born into the Matrix in the first place. So I stood outside and could criticize its shortcomings. I saw people my own age being treated as prisoners, trapped in big cement block buildings, where they weren't allowed to use the bathroom. Huh. "Weren't allowed to use the bathroom." Almost poetic isn't it. I remember first interacting with other kids, and learning that they hated reading and they hated learning. This was so strange to me! I didn't understand how anyone could hate ALL of learning! What an awful thing to say. Now there were parts of mine I did hate. The parts that weren't unschooling, and were just schooling. My mom hovering over me while I sobbed trying to finish math problems. I would have to do a big sheet of them, but instead stared out the window at birds and dreamed. I think I would have found a better love of mathematics if I was allowed to come across it organically. Same for spelling, another area in which the system said I struggled. However, I do also understand that my parents hands were tied on this. If I didn't perform well enough on a standardized exam each year, they would be forced to enroll me into public school. I hated those exams. Long slogs of math problems and questions. Then, later on, came standardized testing. For someone who grew up outside the system, the SAT and ACT were hell. It was being forced into the Matrix. I was being assimilated into a world I knew wanted to destroy people like me. I didn't really understand this then, so it left me with more questions, questions that would eventually lead me to start questioning the system, to turn against the "it is what it is" mentality.

I used to be critical of my parents for homeschooling, but now I realize it's the system that deserves that criticism. They just didn't quite escape, and live one foot in, one foot out, pulled back in by religion and tradition.

#ember writes #thoughts #serious #education

[sezja]

Reaching the Crystarium

Set in @theferalscion's fantastic First AU, with permission, because it lives rent-free in my head these days

Previously (and, confusingly, chronologically later): A Lakeside Chat

They reach the Crystarium as the sun is inching toward the horizon - dusty, weary, and in foul moods. Despite Sammet’s best efforts, Guyson has proven himself to be thoroughly inescapable; he’d made no fewer than three attempts to slip away from his appointed guide beneath the violet trees of Lakeland, and each time, the hume simply chased him down - the final time quite literally. Sammet had attempted to simply run, relying on his superior stamina to outlast the hume and escape that way, only to be thwarted when the man simply pursued and then tackled him-

Heat creeps across his collar, remembering. The chase. The wild tumbling scuffle through the grass, wrestling to free himself from Guyson’s grip. The look of furious triumph in the man’s eyes when he’d successfully pinned Sammet to the earth, with no hope of escape. 

And the way his heart rattled against his ribs, torn between terror and… something else, something he didn’t recognize.

Now, with one hand clamped firmly on the viis’ arm, Guyson marches Sammet through the gates at the base of the towering crystal structure they’ve been approaching all afternoon. Sammet’s heart speeds once more, as the gates slide closed behind them once more - he is trapped here, for the immediate future; he does not know, he realizes, the intricacies of navigating life in a modern city. His own life has been removed from the structures of civilization; as a male viis, he’d spent much of his time in isolation in the tallest trees, watching for threats to the Greatwood and the ruins of Ronka - how peculiar it is, to see so many people in one place, men and women mingling freely… to say nothing of the many disparate races.

His hands itch for his bow. Though no threat has presented itself yet, he would feel better if he went forth with an arrow nocked. Their arrival - and his presence - garner no few curious stares. Viis are rare outside of the Greatwood, he knows… and a male viis leaving the forest is all but unheard-of. Most would sooner die.

It makes him feel very strange in his own skin.

Anxiety rises. His vision swims with each beat of his racing heart. There are so many people! People and buildings - where is he meant to begin? 

He turns to ask Guyson - when had the man let go of his arm? - and finds no one at his side.

Anxiety gives way to real fear.

“Guyson?” He peers around; the hume cannot have gone far… but he sees no familiar face, only more curious strangers, wondering at him, at his having left the forest at all. He imagines he can see disapproving judgment on their faces - though few of them know aught of the viis at all, let alone the distinctions of their culture - and he bites his tongue on the urge to explain to all and sundry that he has not abandoned his post. He is on a mission, a mission of great importance, if only he… if only he knew which way to go…

Guyson would know, a prickling voice in his mind reminds him. But you didn’t want a guide, did you?

Is that what has happened, he wonders, breathing hard, paralyzed - has the man escorted him to the Crystarium, as far as he ever intended? The agreement was to see Sammet safely through the world beyond Rak’tika, and home again - but the leaders of Fanow won’t know if Guy simply abandons him here, resuming his stewardship once Sammet is prepared to return home. A return that, he must confess, is sounding more and more welcome by the moment. 

If he bolts for the gates-

But to leave the quest incomplete-

He will not have this chance again…

But there are so many people here, so many unfamiliar paths and turns; he does not know how to-

“I take it you don’t like the taste of your own medicine.” There’s a hand clasping his arm once more, firm and - though he hates it - reassuring. Guyson, emerging from who-knows-where, taking up his place at Sammet’s side as if he hadn’t just caused the warder a near panic attack.

“You.”

“Aye.” The man tugs pointedly until Sammet follows, guiding the way to a destination he cannot guess. “I reckoned after all your determination to fly solo, you’d take off at the first sign of independence - but you just stood there like… well.” His gaze flicks upward, toward Sammet’s ears. “Like a scared little rabbit.”

Shame boils at his core, rousing a simmering fury. “I was not frightened.”

“Consider me fooled.”

“I do not need you!” He jerks against the hand on his arm, but Guyson’s grip only tightens. “Release me!”

Guyson jerks them both to a stop - and shoves Sammet against a wall, driving the air from his lungs with the impact. The hume pins him there, both arms held firmly against his sides, so they can look one another in the eye: though Guyson is an ilm or two shorter, his strength is undeniable - more so than Sammet would have anticipated in a gunman, at any rate. And his expression is quietly furious, blue eyes burning.

“What is your problem, anyhow?” Guyson demands, his grip growing even tighter. “I’m here to help you, you ungrateful little-”

“I did not ask for your help! It was thrust upon me by-”

“By people who know good and goddamn well the world’s still dangerous, Lightwardens or no. I’m not here to get involved in your hunt for bards. Wicked white, I just wanna get paid when all this is over, and I can’t do that if I don’t bring your self-centered little arse back to Rak’tika in one piece!” He heaves a heavy, exasperated sigh, releasing Sammet’s arms. They throb - likely to be bruised in the morning. 

And Sammet’s heart is racing again.

He says nothing, though, giving Guyson a chance to collect himself. He cannot fathom the humiliation of a wood-warder who cannot be trusted to perform whatever duties he must alone, nor the personal insult of being assigned a caretaker who cannot even see the importance of his quest. It matters little - he will be rid of this unwanted escort; he must simply bide his time and wait for a more opportune moment to escape. He may even be charitable enough to return to Guyson when his journey is concluded and he has the knowledge he seeks… that he may be safely escorted back to the Greatwood, and Guyson may receive whatever compensation he has been promised, if indeed that is the sum total of his concern for Sammet’s quest.

“Never mind.” Guyson rolls his shoulders, seemingly shrugging his frustration off at the same time. “It’s been a hell of a walk here, eh? Let’s get a room for the night. We’ll head for the Cabinet of Curiosities first thing in the morning.” 

“The Cabinet of…?”

“Curiosities.” The hume takes Sammet’s arm again, more gently this time, but firm enough to brook no argument as he once again takes the lead. “It’s a library of sorts. Books. All the books the Crystarium’s salvaged since the Flood.” He frowns. “You… can read, aye?”

Uncertainty rears its ugly head. He has read very little from beyond the ruins of Ronka - what if the texts here are in a different language? “Of course.”

“Of course,” Guyson echoes, his lips curling into a small smile as he glances back at Sammet. “Well, if you need a hand - or an extra set of eyes - there’s people there as’ll help you out. I bet Moren’ll even know exactly what book you need straightaway. We’ll have all the info you could possibly hope for on bards and then some by the time night comes tomorrow.”

“Moren,” he repeats, seizing on the one fragment of speech that registered as important. He truly has lost the knack of conversation since leaving Fanow as a child - it washes over him like an avalanche, leaving him grasping at a word here or there as they surge past.

As though amused by Sammet’s baffled repetition, Guyson’s small smile grows larger. “Aye, Moren. He’s in charge of things over there. I’ll introduce you.”

“He is… a friend of yours?”

“Not if you ask him.”

Sammet puzzles over this in silence as they continue ever southward, while the sky grows dark overhead. Like many, Guyson pauses a moment to gaze upward as the stars emerge, glittering in their miraculous darkness - Sammet joins him, marveling in how vast it is. Beneath the bright, blue sky when they’d first emerged from the Greatwood, the sight of the sky stretching endlessly overhead had been terrifying, daunting… but this is different, somehow. Far more reminiscent of the impenetrable dark boughs of Rak’tika, muffling the Light - this is comforting. Grounding. 

Were it not for the crystal spire piercing the view, he could very well be back home again.

But there is no time for homesickness, not here at the start of the journey.

“Hey.” Guyson tugs his arm, bringing him back to the present with surprising gentleness. “The sky’ll still be there tomorrow.” It’d be mocking, if the sky wasn’t so new a wonder. “Let’s get in for the night.”

He brings them to a peculiar building, tall and long, stretching into the distance. The Pendants, Guyson calls it, explaining as they walk that it serves as lodgings for those who live in the Crystarium - both temporarily and permanently. The vast size of the building is thus explained, if it must house the many people the Crystarium shelters. There isn’t always room, Guyson goes on to explain, particularly after Sin Eaters attack settlements and drive more people into the city… but there should be a good deal of room available now, now that the world is safer; now that people have begun to leave the assured safety of the Crystarium for the wider world beyond.

Sammet’s throat tightens as they pass through the door and he enters, for the first time in years, an enclosed building. He eyes the door - it isn’t locked, he knows; he could leave any time he pleased. Presuming he can tear his way free of Guyson, of course. Still, his mind screams trapped. Trapped!

“One room, two beds,” Guyson’s saying, to a weary-looking clerk who nevertheless greets them with a warm smile. Guyson eyes Sammet before adding, “On the highest floor you can give us.”

The clerk’s tired gaze moves to Sammet. “Are you quite alright, sir?” His eyes flick briefly toward Guyson’s grip on the viis’ arm; the slightly frenzied look in Sammet’s eyes.

“I… I-”

“This is his first time away from the forest,” Guyson says, quietly. “He’s a little bent out of shape. If you could get us a room with a good view of some greenery?” Oddly touched, Sammet blinks in surprise. If Guyson notices, he doesn’t show it, receiving the key to their new room with a word of thanks and not so much as a glance in Sammet’s direction. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I want a bath before bed.”

As well he might, after tumbling through the dirt with Sammet earlier. The viis simply nods his agreement - though he has been a good deal worse, and gone a good deal longer between baths, he expects the people of the Crystarium will be more inclined to aid him if he doesn’t look as though he has been… well. Rolling around in the grass with a furious hume.

The bathing chambers are on the bottom floor of the building, Guyson explains, leading the way… with one hand still firmly latched onto Sammet’s arm. He begins to wonder if Guyson means to ever release him again. “There’s baths and showers,” the man continues, opening a door to reveal several gleaming empty tubs… which briefly stymies Sammet, better-accustomed to washing up in waterfalls.

“How…?”

“Hm? Ah, right. You’re a proper barbarian, eh?” Guyson releases his arm at last to approach one of the tubs, turning one of the peculiar silver fixtures set atop it… and water pours out, startling Sammet with its abrupt loudness. “It can be as hot or cold as you like it,” the hume says, shouting to be heard over the running water. He continues explaining the workings of the device, letting Sammet adjust the temperature of the water pooling in the bottom of the tub - what a strange thing to create! And how very indulgent, hot water at a touch; in Rak’tika, when they desire hot water, it requires either heating over a fire, or a not insignificant amount of fire shards…

He watches Guyson ready his own tub… and then watches the hume strip off his own clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto a nearby bench, along with his weapons. Wreathed in steam, the man’s body is beautiful, despite its scars; Sammet has only ever seen his fellow viis naked, and every one of them had become familiar, unremarkable. It is strange, then, to see a body he doesn’t know. Strange and thrilling, nearly as daunting as the unfamiliar sky overhead.

Guyson sinks into his tub with a deep sigh. He casts a curious glance in Sammet’s direction… and smiles, asking, “Were you gonna bathe, or were you just here to enjoy the show?”

It makes Sammet’s heart flutter more than it ought.

Muttering, he strips off his own clothing, unties his hair, and - tentatively - steps into the impossibly warm water. “Oh,” he says, appreciatively, as the heat begins to sink into his weary muscles, making him drowsy.

There’s a quiet chuckle from the tub beside his. “Ah, Sammy. We’ll make a pampered city-dweller out of you yet.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I told you not to run off,” Guyson replies, unfazed. “Give me what I want, Sam, and I’ll give you what you want.”

To that, he makes no response, focusing instead on bathing. He does have bruises from Guyson’s hands, red marks ringing his arm where the man has gripped it for the past several bells. Sammet combs his hair with his fingers, thinking. It will be no easy matter to escape from Guyson here - for of course he must; his moment of panic at the gates was only that: a moment. He will acquaint himself with this place, learn all he can of the city, of the people… and when he finds his moment, he will seize it, slipping free of Guyson’s supervision and charting his own course. He cannot afford to grow soft on his journey, after all; he must return to his duties in the Greatwood.

But this is nice.

He dozes off more than once, only a few seconds. The heat of the water, the exhaustion of the day, the promise of safety for the night - it is enough to lull him into sleep…

The last time he wakes, it is to Guyson shaking his shoulder. The water has gone tepid.

Needing no encouragement, he rises, following the hume’s instructions to drain the tub, then drying off with the provided towels. He leaves his hair loose to dry; the evening is warm. Still half-dozing, he follows Guyson’s lead up the stairs… and up and up. On the highest floor you can give us, he recalls, wryly; the hume believes putting distance between Sammet and the ground will discourage him from escaping… through the window, perhaps. As though heights have ever been a deterrent to a wood-warder. He will have to put this theory to the test… in the morning, perhaps.

For tonight, at least, he’ll behave himself. He is too exhausted not to.

The room, when at last they reach it, is smaller than he’d hoped - it is cramped, the ceiling too low, the walls too close. He folds his arms, looking around in rising discomfort; he cannot breathe here-

“Steady.” Guyson crosses the room, pushes the window open. The night breeze wafts in, smelling of… trees and grass; Sammet approaches the window, peering out to see what appears to be a small park. It isn’t much, but it’s green, and it makes it easier to tolerate the cramped confines of their new room. The room which will be his home, for lack of a better word, until such time as they must return to Rak’tika…

He turns, eyeing the bed dubiously; far more accustomed to simply settling into a nook in a tree or slinging a hammock, this is altogether foreign.

Guyson snorts. “Can’t do anything about the bed, I’m afraid. Get used to it.” He strips down once more, drops himself heavily into his own bed, and rolls to face the wall, turning his back on Sammet. “Turn the light off before you bed down, eh?”

Sammet gazes out the window a while longer, shoving homesickness aside.

And thus ends the first night of his quest.

#sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #SORT OF. #my writing #first au #i want to write guy's side of things from leaving the greatwood to pretending to ditch sammy there at the start #but we'll see if my head cooperates #i'm draaaaained after black friday weekend

[theculturedmarxist]

Three British journalists I know personally – Johanna Ross, Vanessa Beeley and Kit Klarenberg – have each in the last two years been detained at immigration for hours on re-entering their own country, and questioned by police under anti-terrorist legislation.

This is plainly an abuse of the power to detain at port of entry, because in each case they could have been questioned at any time in the UK were there legitimate cause, and the questioning was not focused on their travels.

They were in fact detained and interrogated simply for holding and publishing dissident opinion on foreign policy, and in particular for supporting a more collaborative approach to Russia – with which, lest we forget, the UK is not at war.

These detentions have taken place over the period of a couple of years. All were targeted for journalism and this is plainly a continuing policy of harassment of dissident British journalists.

I have three times in that same period been questioned by police in my own home in Edinburgh for journalism, over three separate matters. I spent four months in jail for publicising essential information to show that a high level conspiracy was behind the false accusations against Scottish Independence leader Alex Salmond.

Julian Assange remains in maximum security jail for publicising the truth about war crimes. Meanwhile a new National Security Bill goes through the Westminster parliament, which will make it illegal for a journalist possess or publish classified information.

This has never been illegal. The responsibility has always lain with the whistleblower or leaker, not the journalist or publisher. It seeks to enshrine in UK law precisely what the US Government is seeking to achieve against Assange using the US 1917 Espionage Act. This is a huge threat to journalism.

It is also worth pointing out that, if Evan Gershkovich was indeed doing nothing more than he has claimed to have been doing in Russia, that action would land him a long jail sentence in either the USA or the UK under the provisions which both governments are attempting to enforce.

On top of that, you have the Online Safety Bill, which under the excuse of protecting against paedophilia, will require social media gatekeepers to remove any kind of content the government deems as illegal.

When you put all this together with the new Public Order Act, which effectively gives the police authority to ban any protest they wish to ban, there is a fundamental change happening.

This is not just a theoretical restriction on liberty. Active enforcement against non-approved speech is already underway, as shown by those detentions and, most strongly of all, by Julian’s continued and appalling incarceration.

To complete the horror, there is no longer a genuine opposition within the political class. Keir Starmer’s Labour Party opposes none of this wave of attacks on civil liberties. The SNP has been sending out identical stock replies from its MPs on Julian Assange, 100% backing the UK government line on his extradition and imprisonment.

I feel this very personally. I know all of these people affected – Julian, Alex, Kit, Vanessa, Johanna, and view them as colleagues whose rights I defend, even though I do not always agree with all of their disparate views.

Two other people I know personally and admire are under attack. The campaign of lies and innuendo against Roger Waters this last few weeks has been astonishing in both its viciousness and its mendacity, recalling the dreadful attacks on Jeremy Corbyn.

More mundane but also part of the same phenomenon, my friend Randy Credico has had his Twitter account cancelled.

To be a dissident in the UK, or indeed the “West”, today is to see, every single day, your friends persecuted and to see the walls close in upon yourself.

A unified political class, controlled by billionaires, is hurtling us towards fascism. That now seems to me undeniable.

#craig murray #julian assange #fascism #censorship #press freedom #national security bill #ukraine conflict

[a-tale-never-told]

Yeah,I somehow could imagine that China in this story was trying to gather back these overseas Chinese.

Just a few days ago,I was having Chinese lesson in my school and there's a question that was related to motherland.And my teacher asked us where is our motherland,I say Malaysia.My teacher agreed that and she say,some people would think that China is our real motherland and that opinion was quite ridiculous.She also says that although Chinese Malaysian shares most the same culture and also language with China,but there's already a lots of differences between China and Chinese Malaysian.Of course,I was totally agree with my teacher.

My teacher even asked if we could like go to China,would we want to do that?And I said no,although Malaysia politic was no really stable and economy was way lower than China but it's still my home.

Ah,if China was trying to regain their population,would they change their law to let underage teenagers having "s-started-word" to give born more and more people?

Or would they even having some institution like the “Lebensborn e. V.” that the Nazis build to make more babies?

// Well, those people who said that certainly have quite the opinion don't they.?//

// I honestly believe that in this Au, it would happen, but it all depends on whether or not the hierarchy of the CCP(Communist Party Of China) will allow this to happen. I know as of recently in July, they have eradicated the "child limit policy", removing the limit of how many children a family could have. But since this is 2012, and China's population has had annual demographic growth even higher than the Soviet Union and Eastern bloc combined, don't expect the child limit law to disappear any time soon.//

// It is certainly debatable as to whether or not China would dedicate enough resources to even build such an institution in the first place. I would say not immediately, because for reason number one, holy shit. Reason number two is that given China's economic disparity in this timeline, they aren't really in the position to construct a facility given the present situation. Keep in mind, that only in the late 80s and 1990s did China improve relations with the Russians to the extent, that they began to develop similar reforms, and while these reforms were successful, they didn't automatically translate into success for them given the extent of damage the Cultural Revolution did to the Chinese mainland.//

//The only way I could see this being built is if the Soviets give them the funds to do it, but considering the fact of past memories during WW2 on the Eastern front, I don't believe they would even give them any support for building that since it brings back far too many horrific memories for many Russians.//

//Despite this, the overpopulation of Chinese citizens is certainly one of, if not the main long-term goals, for China in this Au, as they see this as their given right to massive expansion across Asia, no matter the cost. But that's going into spoiler territory, so I'll leave it here for now//

// What I am certain about is that no matter what happens, this story blog and its contents, are absolutely, 100% getting banned in China, without a doubt. A Tale Never Told is banned in China, let that sink in :)//

#mod talks #asks #ghostshadow k r #a tale never told #china

[rkplaced]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎　　　　　　𝐏‎𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 .*⊹ @thiriumblood.

felix always felt much safer going out at night than he did during the daytime; & as much as he'd love to say he didn't know why that was ... well, he did. despite being such an advanced piece of technology, despite being built practically from the ground up to harm or intimidate, despite everything that should have made him feel superior to humans — he was still terrified of them. terrified they'd bring him back to that place, somehow. it was foolish of him to think that it would even occur to anyone would return him to cyberlife, & hell, it was foolish of him to think cyberlife cared enough to want him back in the first place. sometimes, he saw through his own paranoia & felt stupid for believing in any of it, for being so scared of such unlikely outcomes. usually, though, he was too worried about it to think clearly ( as ironic as that was for an android, ) & instead made his decisions based on the irrational fear that he was in danger at every step.

he knew his vision was going to be superior to a human's under any conditions, but at night, the disparity was particularly strong. he could see far better in the dark than them, & he felt safer there because of it. felix knew most people felt the exact opposite way, because that was pretty common knowledge ... but he had never been afraid of the dark. it was lonely, but he still felt at home in it. if anything, he was more scared of the sort of blinding, sterile - white brightness which always reminded him of where he'd come from. he'd take the early night in detroit, with the beginnings of a rainstorm overhead & the dim, flickering streetlights all around, any day.

the usefulness of his walks was dubious. he had a self - imposed mission to protect androids where he could, & told himself he was going on patrol in case he was needed. really, he couldn't stand being cooped up by himself all the time & needed the nightly change of scenery. the RK900 often found his mind wandering, but at the end of the day, if anything happened around him ... he still registered it, important or otherwise. so no matter how lost in his own head he may have been as he aimlessly traveled the city's outskirts, his reaction to seeing another android coming towards him at a similar pace, with a large dog at its side, was immediate. he analyzed the animal first — saint bernard, adult male, approximately twenty - nine inches at the shoulder & roughly 170 pounds — but was quick to dismiss it. it was an intimidating canine, certainly, but if worst came to worst ... felix knew he could defend himself from it effectively. he focused on the android instead, & that was when he froze.

the RK800. his predecessor, given the name connor, was different from felix in that there was only ever supposed to be one of him at a time; capable of backing up his data for reuse in a new body, but there was no need to mass - produce what was effectively a prototype for the more commercially available RK900 line ... or that had been cyberlife's intention, at least. instead, the androids had revolutionized, & the potentially dangerous RK900s had been destroyed, with refunds issued to their buyers. as far as felix knew, he was the only one who'd survived the culling of his model. he'd never really stopped to consider what had become of this android, though.

fear was felix's immediate reaction, like always. again, despite knowing his own strengths, he was fearful at his core & that fact always seemed to be making itself known. the worst part was the way he could never force himself to act when he was scared, the way he stood in place as if his systems were stalling. he couldn't tell himself to run. he could only wait there for the other android ( & his companion ) to get closer. the RK800 was built to hunt deviants, & even if there was no way he was still affiliated with cyberlife, felix was too caught up on that fact to dismiss it. connor was a deviant hunter, & felix was a deviant. what good could come out of this ?

willing himself to move still wasn't working. he couldn't do so much as take a step back, so he straightened up instead, tried to look fearsome instead of scared. he was the better model between them, or so he told himself. he was the upgraded version, & there was no way he could lose in an altercation against an RK800 for that reason. the fear did not subside. ❝ what are you doing here ? ❞ he asked, holding onto the cuffs of his jacket as he spoke, as if this couldn't be a coincidence. as if he'd been found.

that was how he felt, after all.

#𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 .*⊹ felix. #𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄 .*⊹ main verse. #thiriumblood #better than queue.