#we can't also reduce the shooting to an incident

[i984]

My Thoughts Echoing Your Name | Part 4

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Afraid of commitment! Wednesday Addams, reader cried ugly, lame banters, author gave up-ish on writing from paragraph 3, Jealous! Wednesday Addams, lame-ass guy still exists.

|Summary|: Even after Wednesday Addams broke your heart, the ache for her is unbearably still there.

|A/n|: I struggled with this one, there's 5 different drafts until I decided to just type whatever comes in mind, and here you have it, a not-last-part of Burning Red. Next and final part is out!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Music.

It's coming from outside your window.

You strain your ears, and they manage to catch the all-too-familiar tune. It's frickin' Aerosmith blasting in the middle of the night.

Great. Now you look like an idiot from some cliche romantic comedy movie—tears streaming down your cheeks with snotty tissue papers scattered about your bedsheets, a pathetic teenager bawling their eyes out with a love song playing in the background.

Wednesday, the girl of your dreams, was never yours.

It feels funny. How you thought that after leaving Wednesday yet again for the second time that evening, you would finally find peace in the four walls of your dorm space. But instead, here you are, throat hoarse, eyes stinging, chest ragged, nose sniffling, and some psycho has decided to interrupt your much-needed de-stressing session.

The universe must hate you.

You plop down your bed while your eyelids close, drowning in the all-consuming black void while the faint chord of music continues to play. A sound escaped your lips. A defeated chortle. It sounded so weak that you were almost sure it hadn't come out of you, the voice so uncharacteristic of your usual relaxed, carefree laughter.

Memories of your latest cafe commotion flash through your mind, and you feel your heart sinks and touch your diaphragm.

Is this it? Have you been reduced to a heartbroken pathetic fool? The obnoxious images assault your brain, and you scream into your pillow as you give in to the torture, mind re-living the appalling incident at Weathervane.

"Whoa, who are you?" the man across from you and Wednesday asked, his trunk no longer attached to the sofa booth, legs standing up hurriedly at Wednesday's intimidating display.

Wednesday pulls the side of your body closer, both your hips bruisingly pressed to each other as she speaks, "I believe I should ask you the same question."

You squirm under Wednesday's tight grip, unable to decide if you should break free or admit defeat and stay at your place. You chose the latter, partly to assess the situation but also because you've stupidly missed her touch, despite how much you wish to smack the face of the girl standing beside you.

The man's face contorts into confusion before his brows shoot up and his mouth gapes, finally coming to an irksome realization.

"You- you're that outcast from the freak school, right?"

Wednesday, a freak, though she wasn't the only one.

"Your obviously puny brain might want to try coming up with something a little more descriptive than that."

The man ignored Wednesday's insult, finger now raised to point at the raven-haired girl. "No, yeah, I remember you. You're that crazy girl who played cello while the ceremony caught fire."

He takes a small step back from the two of you, the tissue paper in his hand now crumpled. "They said you were the one who staged it all."

"I have to say, the town's people here might not be too dense after all," came Wednesday's haughty reply, and you're starting to get sick of the pointless banter displayed.

The man turns his face to you, "We should go, like now."

You didn't move from your spot—or rather you can't. Wednesday's arm wraps around you more firmly, and you don't know if you hate the feeling of it; the hint of possessiveness in the gesture offers sweet promises and false hope.

Wednesday, the black dahlia that will be the death of you.

It doesn't take a genius to find out, so the next words that come out of the man's mouth are no surprise.

"Wait, you know this girl?" the person you've yet to learn their name asked, and when you didn't answer, he took another step back, his hands now coming up to pull on the base of his hair in horror.

"I can't believe you're friends with this psychopath," and you feel your stomach churn at the man's words. Not at his obviously condescending tone or the sudden behavior change but at the word he chose to use.

Wednesday, a friend. Is that how he sees the two of you?

Even a stranger seems to think this, so could it be true? Oh, how you want to say no because friends don't act this way. They don't get upset about dates; they don't go on those. The romantic kinds, at least.

Their hearts don't hammer against their chests, not when they hold each other's hands so tight they can feel the blood rush under their skin.

They don't swap spit and shove their tounges down each other's throats, and they won't get upset if one of them says that it's all that is. A kiss. After all, friends can kiss each other, right?

But most importantly, they don't get upset when strangers think they're indeed friends.

Wednesday now feels like a foe, and you know you've lost.

"But we're not friends, are we?" You finally turn your head to look at Wednesday's face, and when you see whatever cryptic expression she's got on her front, you lose all hope.

"We're nothing," your voice shakes in defeat, and your free hand tries to pry Wednesday's arm off you, "so I shouldn't have been upset."

"We're nothing," you lift the fingers gripping your hips tightly one by one, "you were right, and I was wrong."

"We're nothing," you look at her previously cold hand that now desperately holds yours, and you wonder if this may be the last time you'll ever get the chance to touch her, "so you should let me go."

You pull your hand to your side forcefully. The cold and the warmth were no more; it was just you.

"So I should go."

The cafe's doorbell chimes, and you leave Wednesday and the stranger behind you, not daring to look back at them, at her.

Because maybe if you do, you'll see that tears have stained her face just like yours have, and you don't know if you'll survive with the sight burned to your brain.

Wednesday, now a ripped page of the book you wish you could burn.

You open your eyes, and the light frays them, making your brows furrow as you groan into the room. The music was no longer there. Gone. Only deafening silence kills your heart and robs your soul. You feel so painfully alone.

Breathing in the air, you look up and see spiders making webs on your ceiling. They dance, weaving more web out, painting beautifully intricate patterns bit by bit.

Your mind calms down, the bitter thoughts now replaced with a name, and your mind holds to it and repeats it like a mantra.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

You want to see her.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

You want to feel her.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Your heart calls out her name.

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Wednesday

Oh, you miss her.

"Wednesday." Your voice calls out her name; a knock answers.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x y/n #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you

[andnowanowl]

Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

JAMAL BAKR

Fisherman, 50

Born in Gaza City, Gaza

Interviewed in Gaza City, Gaza

During our 2013 trip to Gaza, we meet Jamal Bakr twice at the marina where the fishermen dock their boats. On each occasion Jamal is not fishing; instead, he is watching other boats with expensive nets, and the extensive manpower required to use them, as they bring in their hauls of sardines. Jamal has short-cropped grey hair and a trimmed salt and pepper beard. He has a small frame, and he wears black shoes and slacks even though he spends his days amid the muck of the marina.

Approximately 4,000 Gazan fishermen rely on access to the open waters of the Mediterranean to make a living, but the range in which they can travel by boat has been significantly restricted since Israel imposed a naval blockade on Gaza in 2007. Following the Oslo Accords in 1993, Gazans were permitted to travel up to twenty nautical miles in pursuit of large schools of fish. By the time of the Second Intifada in 2000, that range was reduced to twelve nautical miles, and in 2007, after the imposition of the blockade, the range was further limited to six nautical miles (and sometimes three nautical miles).

In 1999, Gazan fishermen harvested 4,000 tons of fish, and their sale represented 4 percent of the total economy of both Gaza and the West Bank. Today, the fishing economy has collapsed, as Gazan fishermen have depleted schools of sardines and other fish in their limited range. Over 90 percent of Gazan fishermen are living in poverty and dependent on international aid for survival. To pursue fish beyond the permitted range means to risk arrest, the confiscation of fishing boats, or even shooting by the Israeli navy. Some fisherman report being harassed or attacked by the navy even within the permitted fishing zone. According to Oxfam International, an anti-poverty non-profit organization that works in over ninety countries, in 2013 there were 300 reported incidents of border or naval fire against Gazans, and half of those were targeting fisherman at sea.

When we meet, Jamal tells us that he comes from a very long line of fisherman, but that he now relies on international aid to support his family. Since the imposition of the blockade, he can't rely on catching enough fish to provide meals for his family, let alone catching enough to sell at market. He also shares with us the dangers of the Gazan fishing trade a profession he has no plans to abandon.

MY CHILDREN ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

I was born here in Gaza in May 1964, and I've always lived off of the sea and what it provides. My family takes its job from our ancestors—we've been fishermen since long, long ago. I first went out on a fishing boat with a brother-in-law when I was twelve. I loved it immediately and knew that was what I wanted to do with my life. My father taught me to fish when I was thirteen. I got my own boat when I was sixteen, and I fixed it up until it was in good enough shape to sail in the sea. I've fished now for thirty-five years. I've never done anything else.

I'm very close to the other fishermen. I've worked alongside them for decades, and we see each other more than we see our own families! But my children are the most important people in my life. It used to be that my parents were most important, and now it's my children. I've been married to my wife Waseela for twenty-eight years—we are cousins, and our parents arranged for us to be married. I have eight daughters and one son. We fishermen love to make more and more children because we want sons to help us on the boats. I think of having more children, God knows, but I have to convince my wife! My son Khadeer is eighteen, and he's a fisherman already. He left school after the sixth grade because he wanted to work with me. He's been a full-time fisherman ever since, but he's not old enough yet to be very reliable. I love my daughters, but it's against tradition for women to be fishermen.

Before the blockade, my family used to go far out into the sea and get amazing amounts of fish. We'd find mostly sardines, but also plenty of mackerel. I could make $500 in a single day sometimes. Fishing around Gaza City was actually better when Gaza was still occupied, since we had more freedom to travel throughout the sea then.² But things have been especially difficult with the blockade. Actually, things have been especially bad ever since Gilad Shalit was captured.³ Before his capture, we used to have access to twelve nautical miles around Gaza City for our fishing boats. But since then, the restrictions have been much tighter. It might change a little, but whether it's three miles or six miles doesn't make much of a difference. We can't find much in those waters-only a few sardines. There are no rocks for bigger schools of fish to live around, since it's mostly only mud in the zone where we're permitted to fish.

When we go out on the sea, we're often in crews of at least three of four. Our boats may be about twenty feet long, with roofs and a closed compartment in the center that we fill with ice and use as a cooler for catch. We have lights mounted to the roofs of our boats to spot schools of fish in the early morning and late evening, and we use GPS devices so we can return to the best available spots and also make sure we're not the boundaries of the blockade. When we find fish, we have nets we use to crossing bring them in. But these days, it's not so easy to find fish.

Since the blockade, most months I don't make a single penny. It's not only that I don't make money, I even owe the gas station money because it costs a lot to fuel up the boat. Then I don't make anything, so I can't pay. So at the end of the day, most days, I'm losing money. When I do catch fish, I take them to the market behind the marina. But most days there's nothing to sell, so I just sit at the marina with other fishermen. The Gaza seaport—the marina—is pretty much a mile-long strip of concrete where fishermen tie up their boats. There's a gate separating the marina from the rest of the city's shoreline, but not much else there besides a strip of concrete. Recently, a Qatari-Turkish-funded project added some tables and chairs where families can congregate on Thursdays and Fridays. When we get together at the marina, we mostly talk about the fish we found or didn't find out at sea.

But even when there's not enough fish to sell in the market, I feed my family sometimes with the fish I can catch. We eat a lot of sardines when I can catch them. Mostly for dinner, but sometimes for lunch as well if we've caught enough. We'll grill them or fry them, and always eat them with rice. The best kind of fish I catch is the denees.⁴ That is a delicious fish.

EVERY SINGLE DAY I EXPECT TO BE KILLED

When I'm out on the water, I'm nervous about being shot. Shootings happen all the time on the water. I have a cousin who got killed a year ago, when he was just going out on the water for fun. He was nineteen, and he'd just gotten engaged. He went out on a Friday with his uncle, and, at the time, the fishing zone was limited to three nautical miles. They might have gone too far out. My cousin didn't do anything wrong, he was just a little out of the restricted area. There was no good reason why he was shot.

I probably see around three Israeli gunboats every day I go out. Usually, they are off in the distance, but sometimes they get quite close. They are about forty feet long, with a crew of twelve or so. Sometimes they'll pull close to a Gazan fishing boat like mine and simply shout curses through a megaphone. When this happens to me, I just pretend like they aren't there. They couldn't hear me if I tried to say anything back, anyway. They have water cannons that they sometimes fire on boats, as well as rockets and machine guns.

Every single day, I hear that someone got shot at. Every single day, I expect to be killed. Whenever I leave my home in the morning, I'm not sure I will get home alive. That is what it's like to be a fisherman in Gaza. I don't know how to keep myself safe, because we don't have time to think of how to protect ourselves when the shooting starts. When the navy starts shooting, a fisherman doesn't even have enough time to put on a life jacket.

The soldiers often shoot for no reason at all. It doesn't have to be because someone went out of the restricted area, like my cousin. It could be because of something else that was happening in Palestine, or the mood of a soldier. Sometimes, if the soldier's girlfriend broke up with him, he comes and just because he's angry—he shoots up the fisherman. They keep you guessing. I don't think soldiers who shoot always have a reason, really; they can just do whatever they want without fearing anyone.

In the middle of November 2012, I didn't work at all during the week of bombing.⁵ After the cease-fire later in November, I started going out again, and so did my son Khadeer. As part of the cease-fire, we fishermen were supposed to be able to go out up to six miles, so we were all eager to see what we would be able to find in the waters we could now get to.

At that time I had two boats—my old boat that I got at sixteen, and a newer, nicer one with a new motor that I had saved up to buy. Three days after we started fishing again, on November 28, Khadeer went out early in the morning to fish with three of his cousins. They took my new boat out on the water. Later that morning, his cousins showed up at my house. When I saw them, I thought right away that my son had been killed.

My nephews told me that they were fishing out in the miles from the marina. There were maybe twenty other boats around sea, about two fishing in the same area. Suddenly an Israeli gunboat appeared a few hundred feet away. Without warning, the boat fired a missile at my boat's engine and completely disabled it. It caught fire. Nobody was injured, they just destroyed the engine. That was their introduction. Then an Israeli navy guy called to Khadeer and his cousins through a megaphone and told them to strip to their underwear and to jump into the they were going to blow up the boat. My son jumped in the water, and sea, because they hit the boat with another missile and it exploded. After the boat was destroyed, the navy guys began shooting in the water all around where my son and his cousins were swimming. They were all really scared. Then the Israeli boat pulled up and grabbed Khadeer out of the sea. His cousins watched him get handcuffed to the mast of the boat. He was in his underwear, and it was one of the coldest days of the year and very windy on the sea. Khadeer's cousins then swam to another fishing boat, got a lift back to shore, and came to see me. That morning, I stayed home waiting for news of my son. I thought the police might call with news that he'd been arrested by the Israelis.

At some point that morning, friends called to tell me that they'd talked to fishermen who had stayed for a while near the attack on my son. They said he was still okay, that he was aboard the Israeli boat. But I wasn't even focusing on what my friends were saying, because my heart was about to stop.

Then, a few hours later, around three in the afternoon, Khadeer came back. When I saw him, I felt that I got my soul back. The first thing he said was, "We lost the boat." I told him, "You shouldn't have to worry about the money and the boat. It's fine. As long as I didn't lose you." It became a big huge gathering of friends and family, and everyone was crying.

Later, Khadeer told me that he was handcuffed to the mast of the Israeli gunboat for three hours. Then soldiers refused to take him to shore, because they didn't want their bosses to know what they'd done to him. They didn't have a reason or excuse for it. While he was handcuffed, they fired on another boat. Eventually, they threw him in the sea and told him to get the nearest fishing boat to take him back to shore. Imagine if something bad happened to him-how could you throw him again into the sea without checking to see if he was close to freezing to death? I think if something bad had happened to him, none of them would have ever cared. Maybe they would have said, "It was by mistake."

I felt really lucky because when I lost the $10,000—the value of the boat—I felt like I'd lost money, but then I got compensated with millions of dollars by getting my son back. I told Khadeer, "Don't think of it. Don't worry about it. This just happens." I didn't want to let him feel too scared by the experience. He started fishing again after one week. By now, my family is used to the nature of this work. When we go to the sea, they know-my son and I are either going to be back home in the evening or we'll be killed. So we all live with this fact. I feel really disappointed because my life is always in danger, and it's not even for any good reason. It's not for a good thing at the end of the day. Before the blockade, I used to face many hardships, but it was for something good, because I used to make a good income. But now I'm sacrificing my life for nothing. Now I have a dead heart. I don't care about shooting, or anything that comes to me. If anyone starts to feel a bit weepy about their lives, they shouldn't go out on the water.

The important thing is that I have Khadeer back, but the attack has totally affected my life, because the boat that we lost was the new one, and it had a good motor. Now I have only the older boat. Now I'm using my friend's motor because I don't have enough funds for my own.

Even this old boat is at risk. Another worry that fisherman have is boat seizures. The Israelis find all sorts of reasons to seize boats. Then they'll tell the fisherman that his boat will be returned, and it never is. Sometimes I think that Israel is financially fighting Palestinians in Gaza. Because they seize boats for reasons that have nothing to do with security issues, reasons that have more to do with fighting people and their source of income. Sometimes I think if they see a fisherman trying to haul in a huge amount of fish, they keep shooting until he leaves everything behind and runs. So the main target is to control what financial benefits people can get out of the sea.

It's really hard now to support my family through fishing. It's really bad. Before, I used to donate money to charity. But now I'm living on international aid. It's only because of this that I can survive. We get some support from CHF, but it's not money. It's just flour and oil.⁶ I could make $500 a day before, and now I haven't made anything for a month. If I could make even $30 in a day, that would be an incredible day of fishing. But I never feel discouraged. I'm always hoping for the best.

I owe a lot of money to a lot of people. I've borrowed from family and friends. People don't hassle me about it yet, but I feel the pressure whenever I see them. Since the incident of the boat, I don't sleep much, only two hours a day. I didn't sleep at all last night. How would I sleep knowing everyone wants money from me? And, more than this, I wake up in the morning and I'm not sure I'll be able to feed my children. So it's becoming complicated, and it's affecting me and my state of mind because I'm not feeling fine. Still, I never thought of getting any other job because I feel like I'm a fish. If I leave the sea, then I will die.

---

Footnotes

¹ Israel's blockade of the Gazan ports began in 2007, partly in response to Hamas taking power in the Gaza Strip. Egypt also formally restricted its borders with Gaza at the time.

² Gaza was fully administered by Israel from the end of the 1967 war until the signing of the Oslo Accords in 1993. Israeli settlers and the Israeli military continued to occupy parts of Gaza until September 2005, when Israel evacuated all settlers from the strip and withdrew military forces.

³ Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit was captured in 2006. He was released as part of a prisoner exchange in 2011.

⁴ Denees is the gilt-headed bream, often called dorade in U.S. markets.

⁵ Israel targeted Gaza with bombings during eight days starting on November 14, 2012, during what it termed Operation Pillar of Defense.

⁶ Cooperative Housing Foundation (CHF) is an international aid non-profit now known as Global Communities. Following the air strikes of 2012, Global Communities began distributing food to 47,500 Gazans in partnership with the United Nations.

#palestine speaks #palestinian voices #book exerpt #part 9 of 16

[patrick-jimenez]

Invest in a Dependable, Durable, and Waterproof Camera Case Laptop Bag

Investing in a reliable and tough camera case laptop bag is essential for any professional photographer or videographer. Keeping your equipment safe and secure is not only important for your work, but also for your peace of mind. Choosing a waterproof option is our top recommendation because it can shelter your gear from accidental drops, spills, and unfavorable weather conditions. In this article, we will explore the benefits of investing in a waterproof camera case laptop bag and share some tips on choosing the best one for your needs.

Benefits of Waterproof Camera Case Laptop Bags

When you use a waterproof camera case laptop bag, you can rest assured that your equipment is protected against various water-related incidents. Not only will this be beneficial for activities like beach shoots or rafting, but also in everyday situations. Spilling coffee on your laptop or camera can happen to anyone, and having a waterproof layer can prevent this from becoming a disaster.

Besides water protection, waterproof camera case laptop bags also offer excellent shock absorption. High-quality models are made with durable materials like neoprene, which can absorb and reduce the impact of drops or bumps. This is important for both your laptop and camera, as they are both susceptible to damage from impact. Avoiding hits can be impossible sometimes, but having this layer of protection can effectively extend their lifespan.

Factors to Consider When Buying a Waterproof Camera Case Laptop Bag

Now that we have established the benefits of this type of bag, let's take a look at what you need to keep in mind when choosing one. The first and foremost consideration should be the size of your laptop and camera. Your gear should fit comfortably inside your bag with additional pockets for accessories like memory cards and cables. Remember that you may need to pack it with additional equipment in the future, so the size should cater to your expanding needs.

The second thing to consider is the level of waterproofing that the bag provides. Look for descriptions of the product that indicate how water-resistant it is and test the zippers to ensure that they are tight. A good example would be the Kraken AMS Series for Laptops, which has a waterproof and dust-proof seal around the edges and an impact-resistant hard exterior shell.

The third factor to consider is the comfort of the bag. Carrying a bag full of expensive equipment around all day can be tiring, so look for models with padded shoulder straps or back panels. Some bags even come with chest or waist straps for additional support. The OGIO Renegade RSS Backpack features a padded laptop compartment and a "crushproof" Tech Vault to protect delicate gadgets.

A Final Word

When it comes to protecting your camera and laptop, you can't afford to take risks. A waterproof camera case laptop bag is the smartest investment you can make for your valuable gear. In addition to the protection it offers, it can help you stay organized and comfortable while carrying your equipment. Make sure to choose a reputable brand and carefully examine the features before making a purchase. With a reliable and sturdy bag, you can focus on what truly matters: capturing stunning photos and videos.

Article Source: None

[deluweil]

There is something that bugs me and I have to say this out loud, 

When Buck was injured in 2x18, people reffered to it in fics and in meta posts as an accident or incident, no one called it by name - a bombing! Some kid with a vendetta against Bobby (Firefighter) planted a BOMB underneath the firetruck. 

Also no one referred to Eddie’s trauma here, the man has just returned from active duty, where suicide bombers and IEDs were par for the course. To be subjected to a bombing in downtown LA where these things should not happen is traumatic for a former soldier. - no one talked about that.

Now Eddie’s been shot, and his trauma has been swept under the rug. - He was shot by a SNIPER in the middle of LA on a routine rescue, helping a kid. No one could have seen it coming. - Eddie pointed out, more than once, that doing this, being a fire fighter - “At least no one is shooting at us” - he said something along these lines to both Marjan and Buck.

Eddie who promised to always fight to come home to his family, who didn’t expect to be shot by large caliber bullet (that would definitely leave a scar) who has PTSD issues from before that I’m sure will never completely go away. Has suffered a tremendous trauma. 

And all I see is talk about Buck. How he had to get under the truck, when he was once trapped under it (he wasn’t, his foot was, and it was on it’s side.) and I assure you in the moment he was more worried about the bullets flying around, not the truck that provided cover. That split second descision was a “how do I get to Eddie as fast as possible and get him to safety without both of us getting killed.” not a “Do I have the courage to get under the truck to get to Eddie.”

Granted it may have occurred to him much much later, but I doubt it. There were so many other trauma inducing factors here that this was the last thing on his mind. 

I’m not saying that Buck didn’t suffer a trauma, hell, he’ll be having nightmares for weeks maybe months to come if he bottles it up. He watched his best friend (love of his life) get shot right in front of him, Eddie’s blood literally splattered on his face, and smeared on his clothes when he carried him into the truck, all done under a hail of bullets.

But I don’t see any reference to Eddie’s trauma, who, I will remind you, was conscious for most of it, if not all. 

All I see is talk about Buck’s trauma and how Eddie is soft and comforting, and he will be, but the dude was shot! For the second time in his life (that we see), in a civilian setting where these things should not happen.

The LAFD, according to protocol, does not enter a scene, until it’s been secured! 

Talk about Eddie’s trauma too, this isn’t JUST about Buck. Eddie was checking on Buck as he was bleeding out and wanted to see him upon awakening, I’m sure he understands the love and attention he’s being given.

But that just means that he’s a caregiver, and even caregivers need to be shown love and concern. - So please, don’t dismiss Eddie’s trauma here, talk about it, write about it, he deserves just as much love and concern as Buck is shown.

If only because he loves Buck as much as you do.

So I dare you - to send me Eddie centered prompts to 4x14. - yes it’s a shared trauma, you can’t write about one without the other - but shared! not just Buck’s.

#i love bucky #and yes he suffered a trauma watching Eddie get shot #but Eddie was shot! #why is there no talk about his trauma #it's all about buck being miserable #and Eddie being soft and comforting #caregivers need to be cared for too #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #don't be mistaken I adore both boys #but I had to point this out #just like we can't reduce the bombing to an accident #we can't also reduce the shooting to an incident #and both boys were traumatized in both events #it happened to both of them #don't forget that #9-1-1 fox #buddie fandom

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Longing

Chapter 1

Description: Chris Evans becomes obsessed with you when he realises he can't have you. Eager to be with you in some form or the other, he starts writing fanfiction, where both of you are passionately in love with each other. But what happens when his imagination starts to merge with his reality in his subconsciousness?

Warnings: This entire mini-series will contain smut, bad language and angst. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This first chapter is inspired by the GIF below from @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 's ShamelessHoesForChris writing challenge. Click here to know more

A/N: I do not know Chris Evans personally. This fic is a work of imagination and should only be used as such. It doesn't comment on Chris or anybody else personally. It is also not meant to destroy his reputation or paint him in a bad light. I admire the guy and he really seems like a genuinely nice person. Again, I repeat, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO TREAT IT AS SUCH!

A/N 2: I did search quite a lot on the internet and didn't come across a fic like this. Which makes me nervous and also kind of excited that I get to do something unique? Please please give me your criticism and feedback on this! Would love to hear your thoughts.

A/N 3: I have used a few big words throughout the series because this fic is from Chris' POV and we all know that he's a bit of a wordsmith 😅 I had never even heard these words before in my life. So please let me know if I have used them in an incorrect manner. 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

The best thing about shooting Defending Jacob? Chris got to stay in his house in Boston. The worst part about working on the set? He was currently stuck in a room engulfed in hot, angry flames of fire. The fire had abruptly started due to a short circuit and spread across the set in the blink of an eye. Coughing, Chris doubled down on the floor, his breathing becoming more laboured with each second. 

The smoke stung his eyes as he looked around for a fire extinguisher. He tried calling for help, but only small grunts managed to escape his lips. Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard a voice. Your voice.

"Is anyone here?" you called out, your voice faint in his ears. "Hello?" 

Chris tried to shout again, but only sank further towards the floor.

Luckily, you opened the door of his room and found his almost crumpled body on the ground. Using the fire extinguisher, you managed to douse as many flames as you could, while also covering Chris with a thick blanket. As the room was still filled with smoke, you pressed a wet towel on his face, asking him to breathe through his nose. 

Slowly, you managed to drag him out of the room and into the corridor, the fire reduced to embers in most places thanks to your fire extinguisher. Chris being a heavy man, you tried your best to support his weight as much as you could, your body almost stooping to form a right angle.

Just as you thought you might be in the clear, you heard a crack from above. Looking up, you realised that the ceiling was about to cave in and so, on impulse, you pushed Chris out of the way, as portions of the false ceiling fell on you, knocking you unconscious. 

Chris, in his state, vaguely realised what happened, before he lost his balance and fell to the ground a few feet away from you, his left arm stretched towards your limp body, as if reaching out.

Sirens of the firetruck and the ambulance filled the heavy air. A deep groan escaped his lips as he attempted to crawl towards you, a failed effort. Where did it all go so wrong? he thought. I was supposed to be the one to save you angel! You should be falling in love with me!! And break-up with your good for nothing fiancé! 

Overwhelmed with emotions, Chris started drifting off to sleep, your name leaving his lips in the form of a desperate whisper.

🔥

8 MONTHS AGO

Chris met you for the first time at the table read for Defending Jacob. You didn't strike him as anyone special. Being the Junior Assistant Scriptwriter for the series, you were just in the room as a formality. It was your job to jot down the minutes of the meeting, and have the parts of the script marked which were supposed to be changed slightly. 

You managed to stay invisible for more such meetings. An introvert by nature, you kept to yourself even when the shooting started. 

It was in the Week 4 of the shooting when Chris actually started to notice you. He realised you were always absent from his house parties, never stayed around on the set for after-work shenanigans and, you never hung out with any of your crew-mates for a drink.

What really drove his attention towards you were your random acts of kindness. He once saw you feeding a homeless man in the alley behind the set. Unknown to you, it was where Chris often hid from his cast and crew to smoke. 

Then there was the bit with setting up of a mobile blood donation camp on the set, which was completely your idea. He had also seen you distribute fliers for animal adoption centres and NGOs who fought for climate preservation.

You always made sure everyone on the set ate before you did, and the ones who couldn't due to work, you were sure to help them and share their load so they could have lunch.

But one particular incident made him see that you were no ordinary woman. 

It was a particularly tough day on the set. They were shooting the 35-second sex scene between him and Michelle. While these scenes looked easy on the screen, they always made Chris feel uneasy about himself. "What if my body is not upto the mark?" , "I don't want to hurt Michelle in any way" , "God I hope I don't touch her inappropriately by mistake" and more such troubling thoughts clawed at his mind. After the scene finally ended, he felt the lustful eyes of the crew feasting on him, admiring his body on display. 

He hurried towards his van, avoiding to look at anyone, until his eyes met yours for a total of 5 seconds. He expected to see the same smirk to be reflected in your eyes as everyone else's. Instead, he saw a completely different emotion. He saw sadness, sympathy, and most importantly, recognition of his discomfort etched on your face.

After that, Chris started to keep a close eye on you. You always wore comfortable clothes, with loads of pockets. Yet somehow, they always fit you well. He also noticed that you always got your own lunch, refusing to eat the food available on the set. 

A few days after filming the sex scene, he decided to try to speak with you. Palms sweaty, he headed towards you and gently said your name. 

"Hi," he said, and stopped. 

"Hello Mr Evans," you greeted him back, a little surprised that he knew your name. 

He continued to look at you, bright cerulean eyes bearing into yours, apparently lost. You blinked twice, unfazed, and a little uncomfortable, "Can I help you sir?"

Chris shook his head slightly. He was so used to women fawning all over him, that your utter lack of excitement on seeing him deterred him a bit. 

He cleared his throat, a little flustered, *Ahem yeah… I wanted to ask… something… karaoke!" he managed to mumble, "It's karaoke night at my house. Tomorrow. Will you come? At night?"

"Umm… No Mr Evans. I am sorry I will not be able to make it," you politely declined while taking a small step back.

"Oh. Uhh… well we can have it any other night if you want," he cleared his throat again, sweat starting to gather on his forehead as he noticed your movement, "You never visit any of my house-parties."

You smiled a bit, "I like to go home early. I want to spend as much time as I can with my fiancé and my cat."

Chris raised his eyebrows at that revelation, "Fiancé? I… I don't see a ring."

"That's because there isn't one," your smile widened as you pulled the chain around your neck and revealed a locket. It was an intricately carved sunflower locket, with small, delicate curls nestled inside the petals. 

Chris glanced at it with disdain. It looked hand-made, cheap, "Is that… is it made from clay?"

"Yes Mr Evans," you beamed at the locket, admiring it with love and pride, "My fiancé is a potter and he made this himself. It took him over 6 hours just to carve all the petals. But he still made it because he knows how much I love sunflowers."

"So he's too poor to give you an appropriate ring?" Chris snapped at you. 

Offended, you looked at him in shock and anger as he continued. "You deserve someone who can afford to give you an expensive engagement ring. Not some cheap craft project."

You grit your teeth at his comment, "Unlike some people, I don't look at the price of the gifts, I look at their value. While this," you held the locket in front of his eyes, "is worthless for you, it is priceless for me."

You placed the locket back inside your shirt and walked away. Chris stood rooted at the spot, biting his cheek hollow. He hadn't meant to drive you away. He had just wanted you to see him as a prospective partner. 

As he turned towards his trailer, an idea popped into his head.

🔥

Next Friday saw you and your fiancé walk into the bowling alley. The production house had organised a "Bring Your Partner to Work Day" and you both were excited to step out of your routine lives. 

A few people on the set recognised your fiancé Aiden from his YouTube channel. Kenneth, an Assistant Set Designer, drooled over him, "Maaahhnnn! I love your pottery videos! They are so calming dude. How do you make them so relaxing?"

The ever shy and soft-spoken Aiden gushed at the compliment, turning a shade of red which you always found adorable. Aiden was almost the same height as you, with a lean figure and a kind, freckled face. Your friends always told you that Aiden's looks were nothing to brag about, but you disagreed. Because for you, this man was the most handsomest, cutest and sexiest person in the world. 

And you knew he felt the same way about you. That's why, even after being together for almost 5 years now, you two still looked at each other with heart eyes.

As the party progressed, you made sure to avoid Chris, and so far, you were successful. That was until he softly said your name. 

With dread in your stomach, you and Aiden turned around to face the man. Aiden knew of your previous encounter with Chris, and tried to square his shoulders as much as possible, but Chris' towering physique and personality literally made it impossible for Aiden to appear tough.

You gave Chris a curt nod and received a sweet smile in response. 

"I believe I owe you an apology," he confessed, "I am sorry. My behavior that day was inexcusable." He paused for reaction, but looking at your hesitant faces, he continued, "It was quite a hectic day on the set and I guess I took it all out on you," he looked towards you, "You know I am capricious by nature. It takes me some time to become gregarious. But," he raised his hands in the air, "I repeat, the way I acted was inexcusable. I am sorry."

He extended his arm towards Aiden, "You are a porter I believe."

"Potter, sir," Aiden corrected while shaking his hand and introducing himself.

You bit your tongue, knowing that Chris was mocking you with his false apology. 

He invited Megan to join the conversation, "Megan loves handmade ceramics. Maybe she would be interested in your work."

Introductions were made again, and as the conversation pursued, it arrived at the topic of your marriage.

"Have you guys decided on a date yet?" asked Megan as Chris looked at you. 

"We are planning to get married as soon as the shooting ends for DJ," you smiled.

"Oh really? Wow that's… unusual," Megan tried her best to hide her surprise.

"We don't know exactly when will the shooting end," Chris said with a frown on his face.

"That's not an issue Mr Evans. We are actually planning to get married at the courthouse," revealed Aiden.

"You know if money is an issue then we would be more than happy to help you guys out," Chris offered in a sincere tone. 

"Oh no no Mr Evans. Money isn't an issue," you clarified, "We have decided to donate the money we had intended to spend on the wedding."

"But thank you so much for the generous offer, we really appreciate it," Aiden added with a sincere smile.

"You know a lot of couples are doing that nowadays. It's a trend I believe," Megan commented, "Where are you going to make the donation?"

"The local orphanage where I grew up. We both love kids and, it just seemed to be the perfect choice," Aiden beamed at you. 

You mirrored his expression while Chris scowled. "I think everybody should get the wedding of their dreams, and you" he stated, pointing towards you, "deserve much more than a courthouse wedding. Don't you want to get married in a beautiful church? Walk down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown? And get married to a man who can actually fulfill your wishes and desires?"

Squaring your shoulders, you looked at Chris dead in the eye, "I am marrying the man of my dreams Mr Evans. The wedding ceremony doesn't matter to me. What does matter is the beautiful life we will begin together. Now if you will excuse us," you linked your arm with Aiden's, "we need to leave."

Chris watched you leave as Megan tried to distract him with something else. Tonight did not go the way he had anticipated.

He left the party shortly after you, directly heading for his home. Standing under the cold shower, he tried to reason with himself. He was acting out of character. There was no reason for his behavior. You had made it ample clear that you loved your fiancé and that nobody in the world could sway you.

Then why was he so hell-bent on claiming you as his?

Because she's perfect for you, a voice answered him. 

Yeah, but she belongs to someone else, he argued.

So what?, the voice urged, Fight for her. You saw her wimp of a fiancé. You can break him into two pieces without breaking a sweat. She is made for you. Just you, and nobody else.

"I… Just… No," Chris stammered loudly as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice in his mind.

He tried to meditate, but it didn't work. Dodger too, was unable to distract him. Even his books on self-help and mental health were of no use.

As a last resort, he opened his laptop, but his fingers halted at the search bar, the cursor blinking back at him.

He was too tempted to search for you again. The last time he had Googled you, he had been satisfied with the results. You often volunteered with a few NGOs, coordinated multiple donation drives, visited orphanages and taught underprivileged children. His heart had melted at a particular photograph- you were holding an 8-month-old girl in your arms, while looking over a painting drawn by a 4-year-old boy as the child looked up at you with a toothy smile. 

It reminded him of everything he wanted to have, but still couldn't. 

He closed his eyes and started kneading his forehead with his palms. Everybody he knew always only had the best things about him. Right from Scarlett to Mark to Olivia to every fucking person he had ever worked with, everybody said he deserved to have a loving wife, a stable family. 

And yet, here he was, on a Friday night, home alone with a beer bottle, on the verge of anxiety. 

Was it just anxiety though?

Who the fuck is Aiden and why does he deserve to be with her? the voice in his head was back.

They love each other, they want to get married, Chris reasoned.

He doesn't hold a candle next to you, the voice persisted, People love money more than they love others. She will come to you. But you need to let her know you are available. You need to take her to-

"No," Chris interrupted the voice loudly, "No. This is unhealthy. No."

Reaching for his phone, he searched for his therapist's number, when the voice chuckled, You really think a shrink is going to help you with this? Eh? They are only going to ask you to fuck another pussy, or read more books. And I will be damned before you touch another book about trees. 

Chris shook his head again, but in vain. Unable to find the number in his contacts, he turned to Google for the second time that night and started searching for therapists in his area. The voice tut-ted, Yeah, as if the psycho doctor is going to shut their trap about Chris Evans crying over a girl.

Chris almost crushed his bottle in frustration. He couldn't let the voice take over. Not now. Not after working his ass off to get where wanted in his career. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the screen again and came across the headline- "Why Do People Write Fanfiction?" The word fanfiction seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was going to ignore the article and scroll downwards, but the brief underneath the headline made him stop- …mostly, people write fanfiction to stay in touch with the characters they love," says leading Psychologist Andrea Williams.

Intrigued, he opened the article and started reading. Then he opened another, and another and by the time he was done, he had read 6-7 articles on the concept of fanfiction and what it entailed.

Sighing, he opened a new word document. He was reluctant to type a letter, let alone a whole fictional story. He had tried everything and yet, you chose to occupy a rent-free space in his mind. 

Now all he needed was a reference.

He minimised the document, and opened a new tab on his browser. His hesitant fingers typed the words - Chris Evans Fanfiction - into the search bar, and he instantly winced.

Millions of search results were displayed before him, and as he read the descriptions of each one of them, he realised that 99% of these stories were porn. There was no sugar-coating it. On the 5th page of the search results, he luckily found a story sans the erotica. It was a cute one-shot about him going on a first date with the reader. He read it with squinted eyes, afraid that a sex scene might jump out of the blue, but luckily, nothing of the sort happened. 

Chris liked reading it. It was an innocent story filled with romance. 

But the only problem? It was written from the reader's point of view. He checked a few others, and realised they were all written from the women's perspective, not his.

He sat back in his chair, turning his head such that he was looking at the ceiling, contemplating his options. 

You want her, the voice whispered.

Reluctantly, he typed the first word that came to his mind. Your name. 

Chris rested his chin on his palm, wondering where to start. If this were fiction, would tonight have gone different? Would you have visited his house for karaoke that night? 

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he bit his tongue in thought. Thinking it was better to start at the beginning, he started typing from his POV-

The first time I saw her I thought she was pretty. I saw her during meetings and the shooting. Then one day I saw her giving food to a homeless man-

Deleting his words, Chris shook his head. This was insane! Right? You were a real human being and it was unethical of him to write this! He needed to learn to handle his feelings. 

If you don't have the balls to fight for her, then be with her in the stories you write. Grow a spine Evans, whispered the insulting voice.

Hesitating, he tried to write another paragraph, which ended up getting deleted. 

Try again, the voice coaxed him. Pour your heart into this. Write better. 

Taking a sip of the beer, Chris started typing again-

It was lunchtime when I saw her arranging some equipment on the table. Her back was facing me as I carefully approached her, afraid to startle her. I breathed in her scent, light, floral and fresh, before whispering her name.

She turned around, a bit surprised to see me, but she smiled nevertheless. Oh gosh her smile. I had seen her smile a few times on the set, but in person, it took my breath away. 

"Hi," I managed to greet her shyly. She matched my response.

"I was wondering if you would like to sing karaoke with me? There's a karaoke party tonight at my house if you would like to come," I asked her hopefully.

Her expression turned remorseful as she apologised, "I cannot come Mr Evans. My fiancé won't let me."

Imagine my surprise when I found out about her fiancé. "I didn't know about your fiancé. Why won't he let you come?" I asked her, concerned as she started sniffing a bit.

"He's… he's very strict Mr Evans. He doesn't like it when I go out with my fri-friends or co-workers," she shared between her light sobs.

My heart broke into pieces on hearing her confession. I had often noticed her taciturn behaviour on the set, but I had no idea about the reason behind it.

I raised my hands to cup her face. I was itching to wipe her tears with my lips, but instead, I used my thumbs. 

"I want to help you. Please let me," I requested.

"Nobody can help me Mr Evans. I am stuck with a monster." She pulled a chain from underneath her shirt and I got a glimpse at the marks on her neck. "Aiden gave me this chain and locket instead of an engagement ring. He said it will be better than a ring. And now he-" she started sobbing harder. I pulled her into my chest, running my right hand through her hair as my left hand soothed her back.

"And now he uses it as a leash," my angel whispered, horrified, "he says I do not deserve a ring."

I hugged her tighter and thankfully, she buried her face in my chest, "You are no longer stuck with him. Are you listening to me?" I bent my face to bring my lips near her ears, "I will make sure that you are free of him."

She shook her head, reluctantly pulling away from me, "No Mr Evans. I cannot-"

"Yes you can," I interrupted her. "You are going to come to my house for karaoke tonight. Message Aiden right now, and tell him that I will be dropping you home. Okay?"

After some coaxing, she agreed. I held her close as she typed out the message, her hands shaking around her mobile phone. Finally she clicked on the SEND button.

I brushed a kiss on her forehead, "Wait for me in the back alley after the shoot, okay? I will pick you up from there."

She nodded gratefully in response.

I couldn't wait for the shoot to be over that day. In my eagerness, I even messed up a few takes, mumbling over my lines like an idiot. But eventually, I got through the day. 

I was excited when I picked her up after the shoot. I could see she was nervous and maybe a little bit scared, but she still entered my car anyway. So I made small talk with her and tried to put her mind at ease.

Finally, when we reached my house, she was in awe. 

"This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen Mr Evans," she gasped as I led her inside, "I don't think I have ever seen anything like it before!"

I chuckled, "I am happy you like it. It… it just feels empty sometimes, you know? I find loneliness ubiquitous in this house."

You looked at her puzzled expression and smiled. "Ubi-what was that word Mr Evans?" 

"Ubiquitous," I replied, "it means something that is present and is found everywhere."

"Ahh okay," she nodded, "thank you for teaching me."

"I will accept your gratitude only on one condition."

She tilted her head ever so slightly, "And what would that be Mr Evans?"

I smiled as I slightly bent down and held her hand, "You need to start calling me Christopher."

Visibly flustered, my angel looked down at her feet. "I-I can't Mr Evans," she said in a low voice.

"Why can't you?"

"I respect you too much sir," she confessed.

"Hey," I gently nudged her forehead with mine, "I want you to say my name. Please?" 

I stared into her eyes as she met mine. God.

There was something about her eyes that was absolutely riveting. The depth of her eyes pulled me in towards her as I read the plethora of emotions hidden within them. Her gaze searched my face for malice, deceit, but only found love and trust in return.

I slowly cupped her face as her breath hitched in her chest. I could feel my own heart race. Bringing my face as close as I could to hers, I whispered, the distance between our lips fast closing, "Please."

She parted her lips ever so slightly. I felt her warm breath on mine as she obliged, "Christopher."

I closed my eyes as I heard the most melodious symphony, my name draped in her sweet voice.

I dipped my head to kiss her, feel the shape of her lips, but she stepped back.

"I-I am st-still engaged Chris-Christopher," she stammered.

I straightened myself, my hands no longer cupping her face, "I understand. I am sorry. Would you like-"

Before I could finish, a car honked outside. While I was curious at the intrusion, her eyes widened with fear. 

"That's him," she gasped, "Aiden is here. He found me."

"How is that possible?"

"He has a location app installed on my phone through which he tracks my location," she revealed, visibly shaking at the thought of greeting her fiancé.

"Stay here. You will be safe inside. Let me handle him," I said, squeezing her shoulders.

I walked out of the house and towards the car. The vehicle didn't look in good shape, it's owner even more so.

Aiden manually rolled down his window and spat on the ground. Fumes of cheep alcohol and stale cigarette smoke escaped through the window. "Where is she?" he hollered.

"That's not your concern anymore. She's breaking up with you," I crossed my arms and stood facing him. "If you know what's good for you, you will leave her alone and stay out of her life."

Aiden exited the car at that threat, the door of the vehicle rattled as he opened it. "She said that?" he scoffed, "Color me surprised, I thought the little mouse had no fight left in her. Bring her out here. I want to hear," he wriggled a finger at me, "whatever the fuck you are saying from her own fucking mouth."

"Not going to happen Aiden. You followed her here against her own wishes. Now scoot off before I call the cops," I warned.

"You think I will be scared of some Hollywood prick who shits diamonds?" he sneered. 

"No. But you should be scared of the law. You are currently harassing the owner of this private property, not to mention you have clearly abused your girlfriend mentally, emotionally and physically. So be sensible," I took a step towards him, "and fuck off."

"STOP," she shouted as she trusted towards us. She stood in front of me, as if to guard me from her monster of a fiancé, "Please don't hurt him. I will come with you. Just let him be," she pleaded with him as he smirked. 

Before he could react, I pulled her behind me, making sure my body was shielding her from Aiden.

"She's a gold-digging bitch. You stay away from her," he pointed at me as he tried to reach her. 

I pushed him away once and kept my hand on his weak, thin torso. Turning my head, I asked her for the last time, "Are you sure you want to go with him? I can save you. I will protect you, provide for you and keep you happy!" I urged her.

She looked at me with hope and helplessness. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden who looked like he was ready to commit murder. Sobbing uncontrollably, she removed the chain with the sunflower locket and threw it at his feet. 

"Leave me alone," she managed to mumble at him.

Furious, Aiden growled and tried to pounce at her. Fortunately, I intervened on time and punched his sorry excuse of a face into the ground. 

She gasped as Aiden fell with a thud. Embarrassed, he slowly got up and dusted himself, muttering under his breath as he sat inside his wreck of a car. 

"Don't bother coming back to gather your stuff! I am burning it all tonight you cock-sucking bitch!" and with that outburst, Aiden was finally gone.

She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably at what had just transpired. I wrapped her in my arms to let her know she was safe. Within moments, I felt her ease into my body. 

I closed my eyes and smiled, my nose buried into her hair. My angel was safe. My angel was mine.

Chris blinked his eyes as he re-read his story. He already felt a whole lot lighter, his anxiety at ease, and mind exhausted. Clicking on SAVE, he finished the last of his beer and went to sleep, hoping that this was the end to his problems. Little did he know about the horrors that awaited him, behind the door he had just opened by writing that fictional story.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Chris Evans and his characters taglist: @onetwo3000

This story: @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @carpediemm-18

(If you guys don't want to be tagged in this, just let me know. No hard feelings 😊)

Taglists are open! Just comment, send an ask or a message!

#ShamelessHoesForChris #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #dark!chris evans #chris evans rpf

[radioromantic-moved]

it's the final livebloooog (doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo doo) this baby's extra long, because the episode is twice the average length. also big time spoilers. you know.

-"no place in the universe can compare with our past. our burned, ashy past." a statement about david's place and also about the earth which i'm pretty sure died from global warming in the stellarverse. not scary at all.

-HARTRO'S‏‏‎ ‎BOYS....ONE MORE TIME FOR THE ROAD <33333

-"do you know what this means???" "that‏‏‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎has no taste." "that we're all getting slushies."

-hartro's‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎little excited snuffles that sound like she's about to have a breakdown but, like, the good kind are basically exactly how i feel right now too.

-"what have i always told you??" "shut up! shut up! shut up!"

-HEY THEY MENTIONED FRANKENSTEIN!!!

-long time viewers of the Blog may remember that one of cyril's special books is‏‏‎ ‎frankenstein.‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎knows what‏‏‎ ‎frankenstein's monster is (kind of). you know what that means. at least one cute little reading time.

-i was going to make a joke about 'three neurodivergents argue about social rules' but that's kind of the entire podcast. with the number of neurodivergents differing by episode.

-THE TWO OF THEM BOWING TO DAVID...hartro‏‏‎ ‎genuinely getting into it and sounding like she's about to cry and‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎ ‎sounding so deadpan

-oh i Hate this conversation! i hate the conversation they're having about killing off everyone who's ever met a board member!

-hartro‏‏‎ ‎and‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎ ‎as david's pa's <3

-IS THE BOARD ALL DEAD. DID THEY NEVER EXIST IN THE FIRST PLACE. BECAUSE IF SO THAT ALL CHECKS OUT

-"the...secret loss?" "yeah, you idiot, the secret loss where the board all died, have you been living under a rock??"

-CALLED IT, BABY

-yesssss go OFF imogen!!

-DON'T BE MEAN TO HER STANDARDS!!!!!!

-"hello, and welcome to 'so you've discovered that the board is dead,' with me,‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎sigmund‏‏‏‏‎ ‎‎shankeray.'"‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎trexel--"ugh, this guy again?"

-context:

-ughhhhh tasty tasty worldbuilding!!!! the board all dying in an incident....security was destroyed in a coup.....standards wants to replace imogen with new board.....

-HOLY SHIT

-IT'S A "NO MAN CAN KILL ME" RULE

-NO PERSON CAN ALTER IMOGEN'S CORE FUNCTIONS....BUT CLONES DON'T COUNT AS PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-OH MY GOD THIS IS SO TASTY

-IMOGEN WAS TRYING TO GET DAVID ONTO THE BOARD FOR HER OWN REASONS!!! AND THAT'S WHY HE'S SUCH A FUCKED UP LITTLE ANARCHY BOY!!!!!

-angry beyond belief that something that‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎trexel‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎could figure out confused me badly enough that i had to relisten to the same part twice and reread the transcript to figure out why the plan wouldn't work.

-in case of a deadlock....

-one of the ORIGINAL FOUNDING FAMILIES

-CAN BE NOMINATED -TO BREAK THE TIE

-AND GUESS WHOSE BITCH ASS IS FROM A FOUNDING FAMILY?????

-ugh you big big dummy...even your big moment is just reduced to who can take you to the better bar. but he does call david his favorite clone. and he DOES vote with them.

-"well--aheh-hah."

-oh my god. david's smug little laugh is my new favorite noise in the ENTIRE WORLD.

-number 48's maniacal laugh is Very fun. but don't shoot david please.

-"trust me! i'm a‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎geistman."

-the WAY HE SAYS THAT LINE IS FUCKING

-HMDGKDGDMHODHGGRGRRRRHHH.

-OH HE COMES THROUGH IN THE END

-DAVID'S CHAIR IS THE ONLY ONE NOT HOOKED UP TO AN ESCAPE POD SO HE HITS THE EMERGENCY EVACUATION AND

-GOD. FUCK.

-obsessed with the group's enraged "TREXELLLLLLLL!" as they get launched out of the airlock in the pod. that's absolutely cartoon levels of sillydumb and i love it.

-"can we....get them? we can't just leave them out there. it's inhumane." "they wouldn't do the same for you." "i don't know, i think...i think that maybe he would have."

-HI, BAWLING MY FUCKING EYES OUT

-THIS IS GONNA BE THE LAST TIME THEY SEE EACH OTHER ISN'T IT. THEY AREN'T GONNA GET THE POD BACK ARE THEY.

-YEAH. CHECKS OUT.

-okay so they're alive but in any number of thousands of habitable locations across the galaxy. that's not so bad! i can write fix-it for that easy! these motherfuckers are gonna be friends forever whether they like it or not! the worst found family may be free of the everpresent fear of death but they will never be free from the status quo.‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎ ‎finds out the planet they land on doesn't have a bar and he figures out a way to access a communications system from scratch so he can call david in tears.

-the little trumpet when david gets voted in....HELL YEAH, HAIL DAVID!!!!!

-"well, you do have the power to destroy‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎stellar‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎firma‏‏‎ ‎now. i'd never allow another ai to take over, but i'd quite happily...burn this all to the ground."

-YESSSSS KILL VIOLENCE DEATH KILL KILL

-imogen sounds so hurt when david starts asking alex to make copies to run functions...."explain away! i can both listen and plot my revenge at the same time."

-"...but that was before the population crash, so the escape shuttles should be able to contain everyone!" "and the clones!" "oh, right, the clones! recalculating and the clones too! wouldn't forget them! :)"

-oh i have too many thoughts about this conversation i'm just gonna post it and let it sit

-DAVID AND IMOGEN ON A PLEASURE CRUISE TO‏‏‎ ‎GALACTONIUM!!!!! FUCK YEAH BABY!!!!!! GOOD FOR THEM!!!!!

-after credits‏‏‎ ‎enola‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎scene!!! my beloved!!!!

-okay okay okay okay okay okay okay. hoooooooooooh boy.

-THAT WAS!!! REALLY GOOD!!!!! AND EVERYONE MORE OR LESS TURNED OUT OKAY....WE GOT OUR ANTICAPITALIST MESSAGE....the only thing we didn't get was the main four's theater troupe and i think i'll forever be a littttttle bitter about that but nobody's stopping me from writing about (or just imagining)‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎hartro‏‏‏‏‎ ‎‎and‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎eventually tracking down a working communications system and finding david and imogen so they can all yell at each other forevermore. i'm gonna miss these stupid little dorks so much but i'm so glad i got to be here for the ride. now to figure out whether cyril went with david and imogen or‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎trexel‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎and‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎hartro‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‎and how it changes their fake little storyline.

#congratulations to all of you! you never have to see another one of these. #but you May have to deal with me getting my questions answered in next week's q + a which may be worse. #nyx's sf spam

[wheelygoodteddys]

Muslim Australians found to suffer the 'most disturbing' experiences in public among all faiths

ABC RIVERLAND SOWAIBAH HANIFIE

A four-year study into faith communities in Australia and the UK has found Muslims experience acts of violence on an individual basis like no other religious adherents, leading to calls for better early education in religious awareness.

Key points:

The Interfaith Childhoods project has already spoken to 340 people from religious communities in six cities across Australia, Great Britain

The lead researcher has found difficulties of religious life in Australia is felt most strongly by Muslim women

The study will form the basis of a large-scale public art program discussing social values in relation to different faiths in young children

In the midst of conducting her research, RMIT University's Professor Anna Hickey-Moody said she was disturbed when she heard the experiences of Muslim Australians, prompting her to lead the call.

"The mosque [where] I spent most of the week in Adelaide has had young men, white men, driving around the mosque in a car with the windows rolled down pretending to shoot it. I mean, that's terrifying," she said.

"No other religion has [had its adherents] experience acts of violence on an individual basis … but this has been consistent in Australia with the Muslim research participants."

Since 2016, 340 people from religious communities have been interviewed in six cities across Australia and Great Britain for the Interfaith Childhoods project.

They included lower socio-economic communities in Sydney, Adelaide, Canberra, Melbourne, London and Manchester.

Professor Hickey-Moody brought together children and their parents, asking the children to create art about their identities and then interviewing their parents in-depth about their experiences of living in Australia.

Ending in 2020 and funded by the Australian Research Council, it will be the first Australian study to create a large-scale public art program discussing social values in relation to different faiths in young children.

"One child in south-east London drew a globe where he pinned where he began, as in where he was born in Somalia, and then the flight around the world and the different places where he's been and where he ended up. It was his story of home," Professor Hickey-Moody said.

But it was when she interviewed the parents, particularly the Muslim women, when she heard the full extent of difficulties of religious life in Australia.

"One of the mums was telling a story about a someone driving past and rolling down the window and pretending to shoot her with their fingers like a gun, and I had a feeling of disbelief about the violence of that act," she said

"She was talking about how complicated that is to experience as a mother. She wants her daughter to have a religious life, but she's also scared to teach her daughter a way of life that might allow her to be vulnerable.

"One story that stuck in my head … [a woman] and her sister were in town in Adelaide and they saw an older woman that was struggling with her walking frame and they went to try and help her because they realised she wasn't going to make it across the lights.

"When they got to the walking frame to try and help her, she looked at them with this visceral hate and said 'get your hands of me you bitches, I'm just coming for you, I'm coming to tell you to get back where you came from'.

"Her sister burst into tears because she was so shocked, and she [the older woman] burst into laughter."

Adelaide seen to be the most unaccepting city

Across all of the cities involved in the project, the researchers found stories from Adelaide to be the most distressing.

"It has a less multicultural community, it's a less international community, and I think there's not the kind of cosmopolitan consciousness that requires understanding social difference," Professor Hickey-Moody said.

One Muslim woman in the Adelaide focus group burst into tears as she recalled the moment another women came right up to her face and yelled at her to "get out of here".

Another Adelaide woman said her son was on the bus when two men hopped on and said "let's slay them all" as they drove passed the local mosque.

Dr Samia Al Haque has been living in Adelaide for the past six years, and while most of her life there was free of racism there was an incident she could not forget when she went to take her English literacy test.

"One of the men [doing identity checks] commented on how I dressed," she said.

"He said [rudely] 'I don't understand why you Muslim women dress like this'. I was actually wearing a formal dress with a cardigan on top.

"It really disturbed me. I could feel my ears go red and my face flushing. I did cry later on, after I came home."

Dr Al Haque escalated the incident, was refunded her money and received a written, formal apology.

Rahmotollah Ahmadi moved to Tasmania when his refugee family were accepted into Australia.

He said he and his wife were verbally abused several times while walking, and his friends had been egged on a different day.

"It's very sad and depressing. They told us before we came to Australia [that] you are free to follow any religion. It's your right," Mr Ahmadi said.

Push for religious awareness education

As part of the project, Professor Anna Hickey-Moody will be leading the design of primary school education packs to teach students about different faiths with hopes it could reduce racism and religious vilification in future generations.

But she said she was finding that there were fewer primary schools than she expected willing to support the project.

"[The schools are] saying, for example, 'We already do work around multiculturalism for the council. We don't need to do anymore work around multiculturalism'," she said.

Intercultural studies was currently a capability included in the Australian curriculum, with states and territories given discretion to implement their version of the curriculum and schools permitted to make changes.

In New South and Victoria, there is push by groups like the Australian Education Union (EDU) to stamp out any form of religious education.

In statement to the ABC, AEU federal president Correna Haythorpe said religious education was not the answer to addressing racism and multiculturalism.

"Public schools already have a curriculum in place to address racism, and our teachers take great care in educating public school students about issues relating to racism, multiculturalism, diversity and tolerance," she said.

"Our public schools are secular in nature in which formal religious education has no place whatsoever."

The Australia Primary Principals Association president Malcolm Elliot was confident most schools had some form of intercultural education, but it was worth discussing if it was adequate.

He said schools had a big role to play when correcting stereotypes, but it was also a whole-of-society issue to address.

"There's a difference between feeling something has been given appropriate credence, or weight, in a school because it's listed on a page and half an hour week is dedicated [to it]," Mr Elliot said.

"But how important is half an hour a week? Or is it better to be integrated into learning and understanding how Australian society works? These are questions schools face all the time.

"In the Australian context, because we are such a multicultural society, there's no question about it — schools can't be ignoring these questions of intercultural understanding."

Personally I have also been threatened, swore at and discrimated against.

The irony is that those who profess to hate Islam, for the way it's followers treat women, are those that threaten, abuse and frighten Islamic women.

#discrimination #islam #islamophobia #violence against women #muslimah #muslims #abuse #education #multiculturism #multiculturalism

[keylaah]

THE FIRST THREE DAYS OF MY VIRTUAL INTERNSHIP

Being a mass communication student I was always fascinated with the way people are inclined towards the media. How everything that is shown is being believed. And how anything they read or watch can manipulate their mind.

This semester, I experienced a new type of studying in college after my school was shut down amid the coronavirus pandemic. As a student of online classes, my commute has been reduced to the time it takes for me to boot up my laptop, my classrooms have transformed into zoom calls and many class conversations now take place virtually. Tackling internships has also become a new kind of challenge in this virtual era. For many students, myself included, internships are a vital way to learn and gain experience outside of the classroom in the fields they're studying. This semester, my internship went remote due to a coronavirus pandemic. Despite not working in a traditional office environment, I still wanted to make the most of the experience.

The thought of having masterclasses and virtual studio tours on my internship as a communication student makes me anxious, scared and at the same time excited. I am scared of the fact that I can't utilize my skills on actual work and someday if I have a position in the media I am worried that I won't effectively make use of the quality of my capabilities because I have no work experience. Nevertheless, I am excited to experience this kind of internship because this is a new involvement for me and to every student. To all intents and purposes I am also one of the pioneers of this virtual internship and I am ready to participate in this kind of system in education. Indeed, change is the only thing that is constant in this world and I accept all the changes that are happening in the system of my education.

July 22, 2021:

The First Day of my Virtual Internship where the main topic is Radio Production Masterclass. The live masterclass takes place on google meet at 9:00 in the morning whom the speaker is Prof. David Quimpo. The Radio Production Masterclass is a three days discussion. Furthermore, on the first day, the lesson that Prof. Quimpo talks about is The News, Its Origins and its Characteristics. Throughout the discussion, we experienced technical difficulties because of poor internet connectivity. Some of my classmates have left because of a power outage in their place and some have poor connection even with our teachers. However, Prof. Quimpo was able to manage the discussion effectively and I learned in this lesson that Journalists must discover which information is newsworthy and filter out that which is of little interest. By applying a set of guidelines or criteria, they can identify what material will make the best stories. This is called “news values''. News values are central to this process because they identify the ingredients of a story that will engage people’s attention. The First Day of my internship is not bad at all because at first I thought that It will turned out to be a waste because some of us are experiencing difficulties in this kind of set up but along the way my uncertainty are wrong because I learned something new about origins and characteristics of News and it is quite fun.

July 23, 2021:

The second day of my virtual internship where the lesson is The Art and Skill of Interviewing. The discussion went well compared on the first day because the internet connection was in favor with us on that day. During the discussion, Sir Quimpo shares his experiences about how he handled difficulties on interviewing victims about several incidents because he used to work on Bombo Radio back then. I was entertained how he handles situations in interviews and at the same time I learned a lot with his experiences. He teaches us some techniques on interviewing and that we should always be confident and passionate about our craft because being a media practitioner takes a lot of gut, grit and confidence. I learned in this lesson that the art and skill of interviewing effectively on victims takes a lot of understanding, patience, use of words, sympathy and confidence because some victims don't participate, some are hesitant to answer, and some are traumatized. Reporter should always be mindful on interviewing someone because as Tony Robbins said "To effectively communicate, we must realize that we are all different in the way we perceive the world and use this understanding as a guide to our communication with others

July 24, 2021:

The last day of my virtual internship on the topic Radio Production Masterclass. The lesson was entitled Mobile Journalism (MOJO’s). On the final day, I learned about how the evolution of technology like smartphones affect media coverage. Perhaps more than any other device, a smartphone encourages cross-platform creativity and digital innovation. Being the first to broadcast is essential to publishers, as they try to beat competitors to distribute the latest news and information. An advantage of mobile journalism is that it allows publishers to publish instantly. The easy accessibility of being able to shoot, edit and broadcast all in the one place removes the amount of time needed to distribute footage, speeding up the publication process. I have a lot of insights that I learned from this lesson and will surely use this information someday on my future work.

Overall, I can describe my three days virtual internship in Radio Production Masterclasses as interactive, fun, and new. Although there were times that the class encountered some difficulties, the eagerness to learn new things outnumbered the challenges and I feel that this experience empowered me to really accept changes into getting ready for my “real-world” career. Beyond learning Origins And Characteristics Of News, The Art And Skill Of Interviewing And Mobile Journalism, I’ve learned so many things about my field of study and internships in general. While I know it sounds cliché, I truly feel that the lessons I learned throughout the three days internship experience will carry with me throughout my professional career. And now I am ready to attend more masterclasses next week.