immediate-family

One-Word OC Prompts

Short and sweet, unless you want to write a couple paragraphs of elaboration! Tell us about your OCs with one word…

  1. that describes what/how they want to be
  2. that describes what/how they least want to be
  3. that describes their foremost goal(s)
  4. that describes their deepest fear(s)
  5. that describes their current life situation
  6. that describes their #aesthetic (feel free to kick it up to two or three words if you have to)
  7. that describes their family (or immediate familial friendgroup)
  8. that describes them as a whole

When Dex invites Nursey to spend a chunk of the summer up in Maine, Nursey jumps at the opportunity faster than he’d openly admit (Dex is inwardly more excited at the affirmative than he’d openly admit as well). 

Despite hearing all about them, including an overview of every family member, Nursey is still unprepared for all the uncles that Dex has. Not all with the last name Poindexter (many of them in-laws); not all even officially uncles (rather many of them #-degree cousins whom are easier to call “Uncle”). But most essentially ensuring the that the family is a major presence in the small island community of less than a thousand folks.

To say nothing of the droves of cousins.   

So, to make things easy on himself, Nursey each ends up categorizing each uncle (and their immediate family) by their vocation:

  • Boatdexter: Lobster boat uncle. 
  • Portdexter: Runs ferry service between Bar Harbor and Winter Harbor, including the island, which halfway on the route. Ferry essentially functions as a commuter, school and delivery service. 
  • Fixdexter: Repair shop. Is actually mainly a boatyard (a lot of the boats worked on are from off-island), but also can work on automobiles (which are barely used within the community). 
  • Shopdexter: Convenience and hardware store, with a backshop and fuel pumps (for both boats and cars), at the marina.
  • Dinedexter: Runs the main restaurant/bar/cafe in town. Also runs the inn that mostly sees business in the summertime. 
  • Waydexter: Maritime pilot who helps ships navigate the narrows. 
  • Bluedexter: Owns and runs a small scale farm mostly focused on blueberries. Not only taking the berries to market, but also opening the field to visitors so they can pick the fruit themselves (as blueberry season is in the summer, there is that sweet summer tourism traffic). Also grows other produce on the side. Farm overall is a joint-operation with…
  • Crandexter: Who mostly focuses on the small football field-sized cranberry bog adjacent to the rest of the farm (which he helps with as well). The bog is not flooded but rather dry-harvested.
  • Repdexter: Retired and now the village ombudsman to the county. 
  • Teachdexter: Him and his wife are teachers at the local school.
  • Tourdexter: Takes tourists around the bay during the summer, and works with Boatdexter the rest of the year. If you’re used to the rest of the family’s reservedness, his outgoing nature can be a bit unnerving. 
  • Copdexter: Sheriff deputy. 
  • Parkdexter: Ranger for the DACF. Also works with the NP rangers at Acadia.
  • Assdexter: The bigoted, misogynistic walking Breitbart mouthpiece. Essentially the quintessential Angry White Male™. 
  • And more…

Notes:

  • Assdexter’s existence is barely tolerated by the rest of the family (who are conservative, many with cringy traditionalist and heteronormative views, but not hateful or far-right; think more Collins, less LePage). That “barely” is simply by virtue of community and bloodlines, and the fact that he’s a useful extra hand. Other than that, “We have your back” does have its limits. and “tolerance” does not prevent a fist to the face. Doesn’t help that he may have called Dex a few choice words for choosing Samwell.
  • Conversations between Copdexter and Nursey get interesting. Seriously, they’re legit engaging discussions and debates that don’t always end in agreement but do involve civility and actual listening. To Nursey’s (and Dex’s) surprise, Copdexter’s the one to ask Nursey (who otherwise would have stayed silent due to being a guest) first for an opinion.
  • Nursey’s favorites of Dex’s uncles are probably either Teachdexter or Parkdexter (especially after the latter toured the boys around on their free time).
  • Overall, Dex is chagrined at Nursey after finding out about the nicknames.
    • Then the uncles find out, and he’s scared that Nursey may no longer be welcome.
    • To his horror and frustration, they (barring Assdexter) actually find it amusing. Yeah, he wanted Nursey to fit in and be welcomed, but this is going too far.
    • Dex’s frustration may manifest along the lines of a sputtered “Liberal… idle rich… city boy…” accompanied by increasing redness as he essentially short-circuits at the absurdity of it all.
    • In response, one of the the uncles says, “Chill, Billy.”

HAPPY PRIDE EVERYBODY!

I just got home from pride, like, not even a full half hour ago and I’m just…ever so happy. Because for starters, IT WAS BABY GIRL’S FIRST PRIDE! But it was also my cousin Aimilios’ first pride & his boyfriend, Kenzo’s ( @parkerpeter12 ) first pride too! And I’m just so proud of Aim for a) coming out after 400 million years & b) actually dating someone I like and want to adopt into the family immediately lmao. But back to the point, today was not only a really great day of celebration, it was a really important day to remind ourselves of the vibrant community that we are a part of and just how different our tables can actually translate into each of our lives, but at the end of the day we are still accepting and full of love for the other people in our community. 

I dunno, my brain is mush after the week I’ve had so I hope this makes some sort of sense to everyone. I’m off to go eat dinner with the family and hopefully get in some sleep soon after. Much love,

emopersonbecausewhynot  asked:

What is Asylumswap papyrus backstory

Papyrus and Sans were only 10 and 4 when Gaster was tried, convicted, and sentenced to life in the asylum for mass murder.
The boys–having no immediate family to speak of–were put into the care of the government, and passed around from foster home to foster home until the social workers gave up.

They were 14 and 8 and living in an orphanage in the mountains when he escaped.

A month later, a few things came for them in the mail.
Heirlooms from their father’s time in the asylum–addressed directly to the two boys.
To Sans–a small bear stitched by Gasters’ own hands, all the love he still feels for his son poured into it. Sans sleeps with it crushed to his front.

To Papyrus–a journal; it detailed Gasters’ time in the asylum–where he was kept, what kind of food they served him, how the doctors and nurses treated him.

And hidden in the back pages, crumpled along the edges from being held by desperate hands, written in a language only the skeletons know…

A detailed map of the asylum and instruction on how best to escape.

Papyrus spends every waking hour studying the book, learning every prison cell, every doctors’ office, every possible exit.
One question remained unanswered, however; why would his father send him this? What possible use could he have for this knowledge?

Papyrus is 16 when he first commits murder.

It was for a good reason, of course. An arsonist from a town over had come to set the orphanage–and all the children inside–ablaze. Papyrus, using the gun the headmistress gave him (being the oldest, he had been given the task of protecting the younger children), shot the man right between the eyes.
Seeing as how the arsonist was a wanted man and how the young monster was acting in defense, Papyrus got off scot-free.

This started a long chain of…vigilantism from Papyrus. At first, he only killed murderers and thieves using the most basic of his magic.
In time, he started killing (using his magic in the most gruesome fashion) for no reason at all.

He was 19 when he was finally caught and sent to the asylum.

Nearly 50 humans and monsters were killed, most of them no longer identifiable by their remains.

The doctors didn’t recognize the son of their most troubling patient until they analyzed his magic; once they identified him, he was put under immediate lockdown. He was twice as strong as Gaster, and all the same precautions times double were needed in order to secure him.
They placed him deep in the lowermost labs of the asylum, where it was certain he wouldn’t leave. They didn’t realize the futility of their actions.

Papyrus was trapped in their hell for another 8 years.

Until the right time came.
Until the right person came along.
Until the right set of circumstances fell into place.

(these are taking some time to complete)

reddit.com
S01E01 - Pilot: Discussion Thread • r/TheBlackList
I originally watched a handful of episodes of The Blacklist (or, as I called it, “James Spader is Smarter than You”) when it premiered. I found it...

This is from the reddit The Blacklist discussion in which we are doing a full re-watch, starting yesterday.   I thought /u/CaptainRedux did a phenomenal job at highlighting how our perceptions change as we go along 

some excerpts:

Liz (is it just me or does her “I’m a disconnected narcissist who everyone thinks is a bitch” self-profile, which seemed so incongruous at the time, make a lot more sense now?)

Then it’s off to the races with our case of the week, which sets up themes that will recur again and again on The Blacklist - fathers and daughters, sins of the fathers being visited on the children, little ballerinas, terrorism as revenge, repeating names, misdirects from both the characters and the narrative, and explosions.

And of course, after promising her husband her new job was totally not going to get in the way of their starting a family, it immediately gets in the way of their starting a family - with Tom desperately needing Liz’s reassurance that she’s all in before he agrees to smooth things over with the adoption people.
(I love how, in retrospect, half of Tom’s behaviour is clearly “Perfect Spy Just Maintaining His Cover” and the other half is obviously “Emotionally Involved With No Idea How to Handle It”)
Things take an interesting turn when Zumani shows up at Liz’ house (at Red’s request) to drop a few hints (at Red’s request) and stab the shit out of Tom (at Red’s request), leading to one of my favorite scenes in the whole series: Lizzie, with clear premeditation (knocking over the lamp with the camera) stabbing Red in the neck with a pen in retaliation for Zumani’s attack on Tom.
This, more than anything else, establishes that there is something very wrong with this supposedly perfectly put-together woman with the supposedly perfectly put-together life that has nothing to do with a criminal being obsessed with her or her loving husband being a spy.

anonymous asked:

Don't you have no friends whaatttt????? You must be joking

no i was like half kidding, i just don’t have “young friends” (cos I don’t get along with ppl my age tbqh) so i say that as a joke. I like being around my immediate family and older ppl better …  

I think it is this weird silly thing that you have to have a million friends in uni and high school for your instagram page like…why bother, you are all moving on, no one will stay friends, so what is the point?? haha I’d rather travel and spend time with my family than hang out with a bunch of 20 year olds and idk go to starbucks??? haha 

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

The thing that is getting to me the most about news of Carrie Fisher’s autopsy report is not the results themselves, but the way the media is handling it. Like it’s a Gotcha moment—like somehow we were tricked into thinking she was a better person than she actually was.

And that is profoundly bullshit.

Carrie was open about being an addict. Her opening line from her iconic stand up show (and book by the same name) “Wishful Drinking” was quite literally, “Hi, I’m Carrie Fisher, and I’m an alcoholic.”

She talked at length and in often brutal depth about her problems with substance abuse, her compulsive self destructive tendencies, and her dependencies to both illegal and prescription drugs. She wrote about it in her books, she talked about it on talk shows. She made an entire comedic stand up performance out of it, detailing the lengths she went to in order to try and regain some semblance of safety and normalcy in her life. 

She was brutally honest that every single day was a struggle for sanity after years and years of attempting to self medicate a mental illness that for most of her life was mistaken for feckless lack of self control. 

You know how they way “Religion is the opiate of the masses?” Well I took masses of opiates religiously! -Wishful Drinking

She was bright, and beautiful and bold about it. And she didn’t have to be.

Carrie Fisher didn’t have to stand there and take the shitstorm of criticism people launched at her for decades, let alone turn it into humor. She didn’t. She didn’t owe anyone outwith her immediate family an explanation for her erratic behavior over the years, nor the flack she caught for it. (Think of all the male actors in Hollywood who are in and out of rehab centers so quickly they could harness the revolving doors as a wind turbine. Then tell me the media press about her life and now her death are fair.)

But she did it anyway, because she knew it was important. And she took those bright lights of Hollywood shining down on her like a ruthless, malevolent child holding a magnifying glass under the sun—and she turned that merciless heat and pointed it at things that mattered, often at the expense of herself, opening herself up to ridicule and the severe cruelty of others who lambasted her for everything, ranging from her weight, her mental illness or her audacity to simply grow old.

Is it tragic that her addiction likely cost her her life? Yes, of course it is. Does it invalidate any of her achievements? The strength and vibrancy with which she lived her life and touched the lives of millions around her for the better? 

“I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?” 

-The Princess Diarist

Carrie Fisher mattered, her voice mattered. The things that she said and did, mattered. They still matter. And they are no less true and poignant in the light of these revelations.

Addiction is a disease. It’s a dysfunction of the brain’s reward system which requires constant management and care and often goes hand in hand with other mental health disorders. It is not simply a question of willpower or the perceived lack thereof. And while sobriety is to be praised and encouraged—of course it is, of course it absolutely unquestionably is—you cannot possibly know what may cause a person to slip or to feel like they can’t cope without that crutch. And shame on anyone who says it was therefore deserved. 

Shame and my heartfelt wishes that you never go through the things that can lead to serious addiction. Or that you are ever abandoned, derided and regarded as less than human because of it and your death turned into a smear campaign against your memory for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

Yes. Carrie Fisher was an addict, she had drug dependency problems related to her mental health. There was a time she kept it hidden, but after she made the decision to come out about it, she stuck by that decision and became a champion, for herself and everyone like her who struggles. Because she never wanted anyone to suffer like she did in order to get help. And she did it with as much grace and humility as she could manage—and a whole lot more indignity, immodesty, crass humor and love as well. Because that’s who she was and she cared. 

And that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said for those crowing over her death like it’s just deserts.

Fuck you.

People do not exist to stand up to your demands of a perfect ideal of humanity. You do not get to place that burden on the shoulders of someone then tear them apart when they fall under that weight—famous or otherwise.

Fuck you and your whole pretense at moral piety and the horse you rode in on.

Carrie Fisher was not your unproblematic fave. She was in fact extremely problematic, and no one knew that better than she did. 

“I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I’ve arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone’s idea of heaven, I could swear sometimes—if I’m quiet enough—I can hear the angels sing. Either that or I fucked up my medication again.” 

-Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking.

Sally Mann ‘Immediate Family’

Over twenty years ago, Sally Mann published Immediate Family (Aperture), a book of photographs of her children playing on their family farm in Virginia, which was called “disturbing” by the New York Times and “degenerate” by the Wall Street Journal. The children were often nude, as the secluded farm was miles away from strangers, and the children’s poses, innocent to her eyes, deeply disturbed many who saw them.

She said she and her children, collaborators, were trying to tell a story of growing up. “We tell it all without fear and without shame.” Later she said, “The fact is that these are not my children; they are figures on silvery paper slivered out of time… . These are not my children with ice in their veins, these are not my children at all; these are children in a photograph.”

At times she sounded defensive, at times uncertain why there was controversy at all. She had not prepared a standard response because she did not expect many people to see these photographs, much less for the pictures to become a cultural lighting rod.

Mann had been publishing small books with limited print runs, of interest to photography collectors and specialists, and imagined this body of work would reach a similar audience. But it was published in the midst of culture wars over government funding of “pornographic art” by artists like Robert Mapplethorpe, who also photographed nudes. It was a moment of intense interest in the propriety of art; transgression was seen as an existential threat to the moral fabric of American society. Compounding this problem, and inviting an additional slew of criticism and outrage, was the fact that she was a mother.

Several photographs showed her children in apparent danger. Critics felt a good mother would have removed them from peril rather than pausing to photograph them. This was seen as evidence of Mann’s lack of maternal instincts. It is a testament to the strength of her work that the reality of the photographs went unquestioned. It was somehow forgotten that this was art.

As Immediate Family was reissued this year to coincide with the publication of Mann’s memoir, we now have the gift of a greater context for the genesis of these photographs, what they meant to her, and the effect they had on her family.

“How I love those, children. And how I fear for them. And how real those fears can become, in just an instant. Right before my eyes,” she writes. The photographs were her talisman against harm. When she feared great danger to her children, and that danger was averted, she would recreate her fear for the camera as if this could somehow prevent it from coming true. She describes this process as feeling “like some urgent bodily demand.”

Through a window, she watched her five year old daughter Jessie play with a doll on a tire swing. Then Jessie disappeared. She asked neighbors to help scour the woods, calling out her name. She feared her daughter had drowned. “I stuck to the creek edge,” she writes, “certain I’d see a flash of gingham, of white sock and patent leather Mary Janes in the water.”

Her son’s school secretary called to say Jessie had only walked down the road to visit her brother. The next day, Mann put a dress on her son and posed him as a drowned girl, face down in a pond on their farm, titling the photograph The Day Jessie Got Lost. “I prayed it would protect us from any such sight, ever,” she writes.

When her son Emmett was hit by a car, she ran into the road and held him as he bled from the head. Onlookers assumed he was dead. After he recovered, she tried to photograph him in a way that would capture the feeling of that moment. She chronicles her attempts: a photograph of his bloody sheets in the hospital; his head blurred, as if he might be screaming or shaking off a nightmare; a self-portrait of her face next to the crumpled, blood-stained sheets. None of this worked.

Finally she came upon the right subject: Emmett, nude, alone in a river on their farm. It took a week to make the final photograph, after nearly a hundred iterations: Emmett submerged in water, Emmett holding onto a black rubber inner tube, descending into the river wearing water goggles, standing beneath a broken tree, and at last the final photograph, Emmett touching the water’s surface with his hands, as if to hold it in place, as the river uncontrollably flows past him, inexorably moving away, on toward a bend in the river, and out of sight. “I had tried to exorcise the trauma of the experience by following my own command,” she writes, “to ‘photograph what is important, what is closest to you, photograph the great events of your life.’”

After an article in The New York Times Magazine brought her work to a wider audience, she started receiving disturbing letters, some from victims of child abuse, others from prison inmates. She was especially hurt by letters calling her a bad mother, suggesting the photographs had emotionally damaged her children, and put them at risk of attracting “pedophiles, molesters and serial killers.”

She recalled Oscar Wilde’s response to personal attacks, that “the hypocritical, prudish, and philistine English public, when unable to find the art in a work of art, instead look for the man in it.” But she found different rules applied to a mother.

Until the publication of her memoir, she had not publicly discussed the fact that a man in a nearby state became obsessed with her children, writing their schools to ask for yearbooks, calling the local hospital to request birth certificates. He subscribed to the town paper to read about their ballet recitals and school prizes. When she asked a policeman for advice, he told her to buy a shotgun.

Mann carried a photograph of this man in her wallet for years, fearing he would appear at one of her lectures. She obsessively locked windows, made sure her children were never alone, and asked police for more protection. “We live routinely now with a hitherto unendurable amount of stress,” she wrote a friend, “Each time it ratchets upwards, we adapt to it.” She remained silent, knowing her critics would feel vindicated.

“This year, though,” she wrote in another letter, “the good pictures of the kids might not come. The fear may scare them off. My conviction and belief in the work was so unshakably strong for so many years, and my passion for making it was so undeniable. Now, it is no longer the same: I am frightened of the pictures.”

Questions about the reality of the work, different moral rules for mothers, and voluntary suspension of disbelief, all so vigorously debated in the pages of various journals, could no longer remain academic to Sally Mann. “How can a sentient person of the modern age mistake photography for reality?” she wrote. And yet legions of them did.

But what endangered her children was also a great testament of her love. “She has a hard time letting us know how much she loves us,” said her daughter Jessie, years later. “But I’ve also realized that each one of those photographs was her way of capturing, if not in a hug or a kiss or a comment, how much she cared about us.”

Sally Mann told her students to photograph the great story of their lives. The great story of her life was her adoration of her children, which was entangled with her fear for them. Her photographs of imagined harm were self-portraits of her grave, solemn, vast love. In trying to ward off danger, she inadvertently endangered them, while simultaneously, paradoxically, recording her unbounded devotion. “Unwittingly, ignorantly,” she writes, “I made pictures I thought I could control.” (via)

When you’re born you are given a list of 10 things to do before you die. When an immediate family member dies their unaccomplished tasks get passed on to you. On your 18th birthday your family dies in a car crash, leaving you to complete their lists.

10 Questions About the 2017 Astronaut Class

We will select between eight and 14 new astronaut candidates from among a record-breaking applicant class of more than 18,300, almost three times the number of applications the agency received in 2012 for the recent astronaut class, and far surpassing the previous record of 8,000 in 1978.

The candidates will be announced at an event at our Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas at 2 p.m. EDT on June 7. You can find more information on how to watch the announcement HERE.

1. What are the qualifications for becoming an astronaut?

Applicants must meet the following minimum requirements before submitting an application.

  • Bachelor’s degree from an accredited institution in engineering, biological science, physical science, computer science or mathematics. 
  • Degree must be followed by at least 3 years of related, progressively responsible, professional experience or at least 1,000 hours of pilot-in-command time in jet aircraft
  • Ability to pass the NASA Astronaut physical.

For more information, visit: https://astronauts.nasa.gov/content/faq.htm

2. What have selections looked like in the past?

There have been 22 classes of astronauts selected from the original “Mercury Seven” in 1959 to the most recent 2017 class. Other notable classes include:

  • The fourth class in 1965 known as “The Scientists: because academic experience was favored over pilot skills. 
  • The eighth class in 1978 was a huge step forward for diversity, featuring the first female, African American and Asian American selections.
  • The 16th class in 1996 was the largest class yet with 44 members – 35 U.S. astronauts and 9 international astronauts. They were selected for the frequent Space Shuttle flights and the anticipated need for International Space Station crewmembers.
  • The 21st class in 2013 was the first class to have 50/50 gender split with 4 female members and 4 male members.

3. What vehicles will they fly in?

They could be assigned on any of four different spacecraft: the International Space Station, our Orion spacecraft for deep space exploration or one of two American-made commercial crew spacecraft currently in development – Boeing’s CST-199 Starliner or the SpaceX Crew Dragon.

4. Where will they go?

These astronauts will be part of expanded crews aboard the space station that will significantly increase the crew time available to conduct the important research and technology demonstrations that are advancing our knowledge for missions farther into space than humans have gone before, while also returning benefits to Earth. They will also be candidates for missions beyond the moon and into deep space aboard our Orion spacecraft on flights that help pave the way for missions to Mars.

5. What will their roles be?

After completing two years of general training, these astronaut candidates will be considered full astronauts, eligible to be assigned spaceflight missions. While they wait for their turn, they will be given duties within the Astronaut Office at Johnson Space Center. Technical duties can range from supporting current missions in roles such as CAPCOM in Mission Control, to advising on the development of future spacecraft.

6. What will their training look like?

The first two years of astronaut candidate training will focus on the basic skills astronauts need. They’ll practice for spacewalks in Johnson’s 60-foot deep swimming pool, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, which requires SCUBA certification. They’ll also simulate bringing visiting spacecraft in for a berthing to the space station using its robotic arm, Canadarm2, master the ins and outs of space station system and learn Russian. 

And, whether they have previous experience piloting an aircraft of not, they’ll learn to fly our fleet of T-38s. In addition, they’ll perfect their expeditionary skills, such as leadership and fellowship, through activities like survival training and geology treks.

7.  What kinds of partners will they work with?

They will join a team that supports missions going on at many different NASA centers across the country, but they’ll also interact with commercial partners developing spaceflight hardware. In addition, they will work with our international partners around the globe: ESA (the European Space Agency, the Canadian Space Agency, the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency and the Russian space agency, Roscosmos.

8. How does the selection process work?

All 18,353 of the applications submitted were reviewed by human resources experts to determine if they met the basic qualifications. Those that did were then each reviewed by a panel of about 50 people, made up primarily of current astronauts. Called the Astronaut Rating Panel, that group narrowed to applicants down to a few hundred of what they considered the most highly qualified individuals, whose references were then checked.

From that point, a smaller group called the Astronaut Selection Board brought in the top 120 applicants for an intense round of interviews and some initial medical screening tests. That group is further culled to the top 50 applicants afterward, who are brought back for a second round of interviews and additional screening. The final candidates are selected from that group.

9. How do they get notified?

Each applicant selected to become an astronaut receives a phone call from the head of the Flight Operations Directorate at our Johnson Space Center and the chief of the astronaut office. They’re asked to share the good news with only their immediate family until their selection has been officially announced.

10. How does the on boarding process work?

Astronaut candidates will report for duty at Johnson Space Center in August 2017, newly fitted flight suits in tow, and be sworn into civil service. Between their selection and their report for duty, they will make arrangements to leave their current positions and relocate with their family to Houston, Texas.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space: http://nasa.tumblr.com

humans are weird -- adhd.

So after reblogging literally every single “humans are weird” post that came on my dash I decided it’s time to make my own!

Consider the following;

Humans are already weird space orcs that like either worship the term “fuck it” or make sacrifices to the ship’s rulebook, basically. They have a strict series of social interactions that even distinguish themselves between cultures. Deviation is rare, and sometimes ostracized, no matter how seemingly arbitrary.

So when the ship of the Vyrg’s first human shows up, they were expecting a smiling (humans smile for a lot of the time) human who will shake their first right hand.
Instead, they got a messy, spaced out creature whose hair was falling in their face and whose things were overflowing from their arms, all seemingly hobbies and random trinkets. A backpack hung on their back.

Their first words were accompanied with a (sheepish…the captain thought) smile;
“Sorry, I overslept and I forgot deployment was today! And I forgot my saline for my contacts back in my room but we’ve got to take off, right?”

Great. The crew got a dumb one.

Or so they thought, until their human explained the entire summary of how their ship’s mechanics worked, and fixed their left engine to work at maximum capacity in record time. The human followed it up with a seemingly random tangent about something called the “Stonewall Riots” and “gay rights”.

“Sorry,” Human-Clara said.
“A bit of light just reflected here and it looked like a rainbow and it made me think of it.”
Human-Clara had a tendency to speak either so fast they ran out of breath, or with so many pauses it sounded like they were gathering their scattered thoughts at that moment.

Life with Human-Clara was – odd. They kept to themselves mostly, quietly chatting with crew mates on certain days or absorbed in their transponder for others. Sometimes they would walk out of their room so wholly absorbed in yet another new hobby that the Captain feared xe’d never pull them out of it. The crew never saw a hobby finished. Sometimes when they were spoken to, Human-Clara responded slowly and distractedly, eyes distant and far away as if still thinking of something else. They regularly forgot to eat, or sleep, or take care of themselves if they were absorbed in something else. Directions had to be written down or sent to their transponder. The Captain learned to be patient, as Human-Clara seemed to excel with patience.

Human-Clara was also oddly sensitive. It was quite a culture shock for them to learn that the Vyrg didn’t really have a notion of “friends” other than immediate family, and was almost – crushed, for a few days, the Vyrg’s usual polite friendliness not enough. They seemed depressed when their crazy, thousand-lightyears-an-hour tangents weren’t paid attention to, so the crew began to adapt, and things became much more harmonious.

Sometimes Human-Clara got angry. They were terrifying when angry. It lasted only a few seconds, really. They would blow up, the explosion big enough to scare even the Captain, and after the explosion, be calm in seconds afterwards.

Stimulant chemicals made them sleepy, which the Vyrg thought was adorable. They watched videos of what they called “stims”, and flapped their hands when they were happy, and slapped them quickly and repeatedly on flat surfaces when they were really excited about knowing something. These were “stims” too. The Vyrg wasn’t sure what these “stims” were, really, but they seemed to regulate Human-Clara, emotionally.

Then they got another Human, Human-Steve. Human-Steve was often condescending in their remarks, saying that if Human-Clara “tried”, they could concentrate. It was then that the Vyrg learned what “attention deficit hyperactive disorder, primarily inattentive” was.

They panicked, a little. Was their first human sick?

“No,” Human-Clara explained. “It’s just where the connections in my brain are different, so some things I do differently. Human-Steve doesn’t have that, so he doesn’t understand”.

The Vyrg didn’t either, but their previous methods of interaction worked just fine, so they kept using those.


(If anybody wants to add anything, you don’t have too, but feel free!)

cant believe lex went insane so lena’s immediate reaction was “my family owes a debt to the world and its my own personal responsibility to devote my life to paying that debt” meanwhile mon-el and his family owned slaves and destroyed daxam under their rule but he comes out of that saying “hey theres lots i didnt agree with…. cant i just be an ass on earth with no responsibilities…………….”

“Family of Empty Cups” is perfect though cuz like

You got the Team Parents, Blitzstone

the Innocent Smol Child, Magnus

the Rebellious Teen, Alex

the Exasperated Older Sister, Sam

and That One Guy Boyfriend Fiance Dude That Somehow Got Immediately Accepted Into The Family, Amir

2

imagine, jungkook watches his son and u have fun on apps for kids playing with filters. he can not help but smiles and be proud to have a cute family. he immediately jumps on u, attacks u with kisses and ur son can not stop laughs ‘why are u so cute argghhh!’

A Lesson in Love (Emergency)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,048

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you, as always, for editing this for me.

Originally posted by charlestonchewbacca

The thought of what it must feel like to be an astronaut has crossed your mind on countless occasions, thanks to the astronomy class you’re currently taking. How does it feel to be that detached from the place you call home? To see the earth floating in the never-ending expanse that is space? To know that there’s a whole world of people residing on that large green and blue planet, but having no way to reach out to them?

Unexpected circumstances have transformed you into the astronaut that you never thought you’d have the chance to be. The news that Bucky is in the hospital, his condition unknown, has acted like a spaceship, catapulting you out of the atmosphere. It’s left you hurdling through space, unable to reach out to anyone, no matter how hard you try. T’Challa and Sam are calling out to you, but you can’t hear them. They’re far away, too far away, waiting on earth while you continue your journey. One without any gravity to keep you from floating away.

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Writing gay romance between Jewish characters with two differing levels of observance

I’m writing (or, right now, more planning/outlining, with occasional writing of small scenes that I can’t get out of my head) a novel about two Jewish men who fall in love in a very Xtian, conservative town. The older of the two (late thirties) is more closeted, reclusive, and is somewhat separated from his Jewish identity as a result of a combination of assimilation and intermarriage further back in his family. The main character (mid-late twenties) on the other hand is very involved with his synagogue, works at a Hebrew summer camp, keeps shabbos, etc.

My issue is that I’m very observant (conservaform) and so is my family; I know a few folks who go to my synagogue who are “high holy day Jews”, or might also come for a wedding or bris or bar/bas mitzvah, but not many who are non-observant to the degree of this character (hasn’t set foot in synagogue since being a child, didn’t have a bar mitzvah, has a pair of somewhat observant grandparents and some cousins/etc who are observant, but most of his immediate family isn’t observant). So I’m not sure how to portray the secondary character without someone going “why not just write a Jewish guy in love with an Xtian guy” or something, because even if his relationship to Judaism and Jewish culture are somewhat distant, they’re still there. I’m also afraid that someone is going to say “why are you bashing Xtianity” about some of the subject matter (as someone who has lived in a small town, I have a decent bit of material from personal experience on Xtian antisemitism), but really the main point is that I want to portray two Jewish men loving each other.

I want to write this but don’t want goyim in particular to try to argue that I should have just made my MC’s romantic interest Xtian in the first place, because one main theme I want to explore, which I haven’t seen explored much in fiction, is being gay and Jewish. Specifically, one concept I had for the second character is how his being closeted comes largely from a place of being raised in a Xtian-secular household in a very Xtian town, and homophobia being very religiously where he lives, and so him sort of being reluctant to explore religion at all; but then seeing how the MC is Very Jewish and somewhat-openly gay, and feeling both nostalgic for the parts of his grandparents he sees in the MC (speaking Yiddish, cooking traditional Ashkenazic food), as well as longing to be as comfortable with both his sexuality and to have a relationship with G-d as the MC does.

I don’t know if this is a weirdly specific character/plot concept, but it just came to me I guess and it’s been at me long enough that I’ve started to try to outline writing it. I just want to see more gay fiction with religious, specifically Jewish, characters. Thanks for any advice you can give.

Thank you for submitting a question so close to my heart! Looks like I need to break this down into several parts: 

1. How to portray secular Jews as something distinct from Christians, secular or otherwise - this may not be as hard as you think it is because you’re Jewish and your factory settings, your defaults, your unexamined ideas, may already be different from the Christians around you. Like, I was in my 30’s before I found out that gentiles don’t do the chair dance. I thought everyone did that. Give The Upside of Unrequired by Becky Albertalli (review here) a read – her main character tells the audience that “we’re the kind of Jewish family who eats bacon” and religion itself isn’t really a presence in her life, but she still finds it meaningful that the boy she’s working with at her new job turns out to be a fellow Jew.

Other possible markers of secular Jewishness:

  • Finding Jewish representation/acknowledgment of our existence in fiction (or the Jewishness of celebrities) meaningful
  • Casual use of the most common Yiddishisms (maybe not entire curse phrases, but, like, using the word ‘kvetch’ in ordinary conversation)
  • General feeling of alienation or otherness around super overt displays of Christianity
  • Foods like matzo ball soup or latkes (for your Ashkie characters, anyway; this might be different for other subgroups of us.) 

In my new release Knit One, Girl Two, the main character Clara is a secular Jew and one of the details I used to illustrate that is that her first kiss involved sneaking off with another girl during a friend’s bar mitzvah reception. She also refers to her grandparents as Bubby and Zayde and has strong opinions about which Jewish foods she does and doesn’t like. She’s slightly awkward around the love interest’s higher level of observance, which is something secular Jews might feel out of self-consciousness—if the character cared. A secular Jewish person and a gentile person don’t approach an observant Jewish person’s observance in the same way. The gentile may misunderstand or have misconceptions; the Jewish person might feel self-conscious for not participating. Or feel nostalgic for observant people in their past (like “oh, my grandma used to –!”) 

2. How to portray your own marginalization without sounding like you’re bashing the privileged group. Now, you’re not really obligated to watch out for the feelings of a group that has hurt you by having power over you… but at the same time I 100% understand not wanting to step on toes just to save your own peace of mind. Some suggestions for this:

  • Having some of the Christians in the town be nice, but powerless to stop the jackwagon ones.
  • Flat-out having your character say “I’m not mad at Christianity; these people don’t even seem like they’re following Jesus in the first place”
  • Cut down on the more painful elements and focus on your main characters’ reactions to their hurt rather than describing the bigotry itself. That will cut down on how much your bigoted characters hurt your RL readers, so they’ll be mad at them for your main characters’ sake but not for their own sake and it’ll give them a little distance. (Example: “OMG, I can’t believe how much of a jerk Todd was being, saying all that garbage about Jews and gay people.” Instead of “Todd walked into the room and shouted that Jews are X and gay people are Y!”)
  • Try to cut down on having the most bigoted characters belong to groups marginalized along another axis. You’re going to perpetuate fatphobia if your most bigoted character is also your only fat character, and if I were reading this story I’d be uncomfortable if the homophobic/antisemitic characters were Black unless a Black author was writing it because from a white pen this could easily be read as blaming those two -phobias on Black people instead of white supremacy where it belongs. 

3. I don’t think you’re going to get “you might as well have made him Christian” coming from outsiders because you’re a Jewish person writing Jewish characters. Just speaking from personal experience.. In any case, a secular Jewish character is not a Christian character. Sometimes they can come off that way when gentiles write them, because they won’t know what kind of details to add to make their being Jewish not seem arbitrarily pasted on, but I doubt that would happen from a Jewish writer. 

4. “One main theme I want to explore, which I haven’t seen explored much in fiction, is being gay and Jewish.” 

I have several recommendations for you! 

First of all, Jordan S. Brock’s just come out with a m/m novel called Change of Address based on her own experiences with PTSD and a service dog—it’s even dedicated to the service dog. Like her, the love interest is a Jewish adoptee, and the character’s observance mirrors her own – he and his father don’t allow bacon in the house but they’ll eat pepperoni as long as it’s somewhere else, for example. 

Out of print but easy to find in libraries through ILL is The Dyke and the Dybbuk, Ellen Galford’s paranormal f/f comedy about a demon who possesses a Jewish lesbian cab driver and makes her get a crush on an Orthodox woman as a prank. (Review)  

I also collected this list of free queer Jewish SFF short stories, which includes nonbinary representation. As far as my own works go, I really tried to infuse the Tales from Perach collection with all the joy and gratefulness both Judaism, Jewishness, and queerness have brought to my life – there’s a lesbian’s grateful prayer of thanks for her relationship with her wife, an elderly trans woman and her husband attending services, and a royal family with two moms and two dads putting on an exceptionally lavish Purimspiel that includes a scripted swordfight. 

I’m glad you’re writing something to add to this and expand the body of LGBT Jewish literature, especially something where both members of the couple are Jewish.

–Shira

How Mary Morstan destroyed the moral centre of BBC Sherlock

So let me just start by saying that no one wants two-dimensional, black-and-white characters. Flawed people are normal, believable, more interesting, more relatable. That’s all fine. What the first two series of Sherlock gave us was:

1. Sherlock Holmes: A self-appointed detective, occasional (mostly past, seemingly) drug user who solves crimes as a puzzle to keep his overactive mind occupied. Rude to people, a trait born more out of impatience to get on with saving lives without being hampered by other people’s relative slowness, and possible also because he falls somewhere on the autism spectrum and struggles with social skills. Tries to believe that he is cold, emotionless, but the opposite is palpably true: his facial reaction when Moriarty destroys the old woman in The Great Game. This line: “This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?” (Read: wasting time wringing our hands won’t save this person’s life.) This exchange:

John: Charming. Well done. 
Sherlock: Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder? (Read: He attempts to be kind, successful or otherwise.

Sherlock’s face when he sees John wearing the bomb jacket in The Great Game. Sherlock admitting his fear in The Hound of the Baskervilles. Sherlock showing compassion by rescuing Irene in A Scandal in Belgravia. Sherlock’s tear as he was saying goodbye to John in The Reichenbach Fall. These two series are full of evidence that Sherlock absolutely does care about people, so much so that his brother reminds him to be wary of sentiment as though it’s an old refrain, routinely repeated. And the final touch: “I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.” That’s it in a nutshell: Sherlock is no angel – but he is indubitably on their side. He solves crimes. He stops criminals from their actions. He saves lives. He is, despite his surface rudeness, a good person.

2. John Watson: An ex-army captain and doctor with an appetite for adrenaline, an inability to settle into civilian life, post-traumatic shock nightmares, and a dangerous violent streak. A man with a “strong moral centre” who waits until he believes it absolutely necessary to kill, then does it cleanly, quickly, humanely when he thinks he must. John is such an interesting mix. In one way of looking at it, there’s a lot more dark in him than there is in Sherlock. Something obviously went wrong in his family, too, as not one of his immediate family attended his wedding. There’s some resentment there, some thirst to prove his worth – and a corresponding hyper-willingness to assume that people doubt it, that people place blame on him, that they find him wanting in some way. Trust issues, indeed.

And yet he’s the one who’s mindful of when Sherlock is stepping on toes and hurting feelings, the first to pull him into line, to make sure he doesn’t go too far. They’re such a good team this way: John came back from the war with a hand tremor that made it impossible for him to practise medicine and a psychosomatic limp and blasted-up shoulder that made it impossible for him to be the “war hero” Sherlock describes him as during their first cab ride. They fit each other perfectly: Sherlock gives John a safe outlet to let out his demons and channel them into being a hero again, cures him of his impediments almost just by believing him unshakably, always, without one shred of doubt, no matter what his sharp-edged humour might suggest, even giving him back the ability to practise medicine again, and in turn John provides Sherlock with equanimity: someone to come home to, eat with, be normal with, someone who will save him from going too far either verbally or into the deeps to search out a criminal there, who will follow him down and shoot the criminals off his back. They save each other. They do good work: they’re good people.

And then series 3 gave us Mary. Mary the former secret agent gone rogue, Mary who kills for the highest bidder (confirmed in The Six Thatchers), Mary who scales a building pregnant to intimidate or kill a man who is blackmailing her. Mary who shoots a friend in the heart rather than accept his help and request his secrecy, or his help in breaking the truth to John. Mary the pathological liar, who layers lie upon lie upon lie, and feels that she should never have to apologise for anything, including all of these lies. Mary, who got snippy and resentful over John’s “months of silence” after she tried to murder his best friend, as though he had no right to his anger. Mary, who denied John the right to have a say in naming his own child after she put him through all of that. Mary, who would rather drug her friend and abandon her family rather than accept help. Mary, who abandoned her team without confirming that they were beyond rescue and started a new life with a marriage and a baby and not a second thought for the people she’d left behind. Mary, who never for a second left her profession, keeping her guns and her outfits and her secret info stashed in random walls in Norway, her vast collection of wigs and offensive accents.

This might have worked if the show had seen her arc through as the villain she clearly was. Mary was decidedly NOT on the “side of the angels”. Mary was not saving lives. Mary was taking them. Mary was a person whose life choices, past and present, clearly put her on the other side from Sherlock and John – two flawed, yet ultimately good men who do good work. Mary’s work was, in a word, bad. She was the opposite, really: an inherently bad person with a cute façade, who could giggle and make little jokes (that frequently had a sting buried within), who could roll up her pants instead of just getting them hemmed, who could tease and banter, but as soon as the pressure came back on, her real self came out again. The old habits came back: drug a friend, shoot them in the heart, run away without looking back, kill anyone who gets in your way. The fact is that the show did NOT see this arc through. The writers tried to spoon-feed us the façade, and it didn’t work, because the truth was so very visible: Mary was not a good person, and trying to pretend that she was is either completely unbelievable, or else destroys the entire point of who Sherlock and John are, in their essence. To have them take Mary on board without question, without her actual redemption by having felt or demonstrated remorse of any kind at any point for any of the very many terrible things she did, does not work! This is tantamount to Sherlock and John teaming up with Moriarty! Even if they’d needed information from Moriarty or something, it would have been a necessarily temporary arrangement, because they are not on the same team and never have been!

So, tl;dr version: we want characters who are nuanced, who have grey area, who are three-dimensional: but not characters who betray their own moral code by associating themselves willingly with someone they would normally oppose with all of their combined might. Writing their acceptance of Mary Morstan destroyed their moral centre. In a way, it made them no better than she was, and we know from the first two series that this just isn’t who Sherlock and John are. They’re good people. Mary wasn’t.