This Is Not Funny

I finished to read the book this morning.

“They are just husbands. I am Evelyn Hugo. And anyway, I think once people know the truth, they will be much more interested in my wife.”

(prints)

Happy apocalypse anniversary

On Christmas Day of 2018, I received a paperback copy of George Orwell's 1984. I was 12 years old.

I remember the adults - aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, looking at me cautiously, as if they had handed me a live bomb rather than a book. "That's a very intense book, okay?" my father told me. "If you want, we can talk about it after you read it." 12-year-old me, with only a dim idea of what fascism actually was and an insatiable appetite for books, only nodded.

While my younger cousins and sister played with their new toys, I sat on the couch and read the book in one sitting. When I finished, I looked up to see the adults staring at me with a strange sort of fascination. "Do you want to talk about it?" my father asked.

"No." I shrugged and turned away.

The truth was, I had been expecting a happy ending. Winston Smith was the good guy, wasn't he? Why didn't he win? Evil governments always lost in the end, didn't they? How could Winston have been brainwashed into believing such an evil, awful dictatorship was truly great? After all, when my middle school history teachers talked about dictatorships, those of Hitler and Stalin, it was obvious that they were the worst of the worst. No one actually agreed with them, did they?

Then I remembered my fourth grade class talking about the upcoming election, laughing about how obviously stupid Trump's wall idea was, and how strange it felt to hear someone say Clinton was worse. I don't remember his reasoning, but I distinctly remember thinking it was dumb because what could be dumber than a giant wall around Mexico? I remembered my grandmother arguing against vaccinating children, and I remembered flat Earthers I had seen online. That day was the first time it clicked for me: people believe what they want to believe.

The years passed. I read 1984 again, and again, and again. I watched as Trump shut down the government for sake of a temper tantrum, as he was impeached, as he told Americans to object bleach, as he politicized a pandemic and let thousands die. I didn't know about his SA scandals. I didn't know he had called Mexicans "thieves and rapists." I just knew he could not be allowed to be president again.

Yet, when 2020 rolled around, I was only 14 years old and could not vote. I settled for watching anxiously as the votes came in - I didn't know much about Joe Biden, but he was clearly a better alternative. He actually believed the COVID-19 pandemic was real, for one. So I sighed in relief as the results came through four days later: Joe Biden had been elected president of the United States.

I kept watching. I watched as Trump incited insurrection, as terrorists stormed the Capitol. I stared in horror at the TV. How could this have happened? How were so many people so delusional?

In December 2021, for my sophomore year English class, I read 1984 again. I thought of January 6th.

My classmates thought it boring, confusing, stupid. It didn't make sense. What did it matter? Who cared whether or not we knew the significance of the character of O'Brien?

I kept watching. The summer before my junior year of high school, just before I entered a relationship with my now-partner, Roe v. Wade was overturned, and I felt a sinking pit in my stomach. Six months later, a friend of mine read 1984 for that same English class, and he loved it - we had a few intense study hall discussions about the nature of doublespeak, of totalitarianism, of a surveillance state. My partner agreed, reading it with a terrified fascination.

I kept watching. I realized I was nonbinary, and I watched in horror as the Republican Party made their creeping advances to eradicate trans rights. Idly, I reread 1984. What the right wanted did seem a lot like Oceania's government, didn't it? I wondered if I'd ever be able to marry my partner, who, despite also being trans, was still the same sex as me. If Trump ran again, he'd probably win, and then what would we do?

Then, 2024. Trump won the primaries in a landslide. I turned 18 and registered to vote. In the meantime, I skimmed Project 2025's bits about banning pornography and thought of 1984 and its carefully curated sexless society, created to achieve perfect complacency. I went off to college and voted absentee, carefully bubbling in the circle next to Vice President Kamala Harris's name. I woke up on Wednesday, November 6th to see Trump had won the presidency.

It has been one week. Again, I watch as Trump proposes a Department of Government Efficiency, which sounds euphemistically horrific. I watch as he suggests Musk to head it, a man known for being as inefficient as possible. I think of the Ministry of Truth and how its entire purpose was to disseminate lies. I watch as people celebrate, mocking me and many others who had desperately voted against a fascist, a rapist, a convicted criminal, a man who would kill us and spit on our graves if he was elected to office. I think of Parsons and duckspeak, the practice of simply spitting out the "correct" propaganda the same way a duck quacked. People really did believe what they wanted to believe, didn't they? I realize Trump won because, deep down, people hated minorities more than they loved democracy.

I hope my loved ones and I will survive another Trump presidency. I hope those in Gaza and Ukraine will survive it too, along with so many others - Jews, POC, immigrants, students, disabled, Muslims. At the very least, I hope to live long enough to watch as the bigots are forced to eat their own words and come to terms with the fact they gleefully voted in their own downfall.

At the end of the day, 1984 taught me something I could not have comprehended at age 12, 14, 15, or 16, but can understand now: democracy dies not with a bang, but with a whimper.

OK, but really, I'm genuinely so sad this fandom doesn't talk enough about Vinsmoke Reiju. She's legitimately one of my absolute favorite characters in the entire story and a lot of people don't see how absolutely tragic she is.

Just. She had to stay behind. She had to stay behind so Sanji can be free, she could never join him. She can only live her dreams of escaping her horrible, horrible family vicariously through him, the only person left in that household she loved. And she had to let him go. Because if she left, an army would follow behind her to get her back; she's a "success" after all. And also because she had already deemed herself a monster. After Sora died, Sanji was all Reiju had left. And then she was alone. Stuck with them for 13 years. Stuck with the wolves. The only way to survive being to mould herself after them.

From the beginning, it was never slip up, never make a mistake, always be perfect or you're next. Pretend to laugh at the misery of the only person in your family you haven't lost hope in, knowing that he might hate you forever after this, feeling like a coward. But you're a child. A mere child, a little 10-year-old girl, and you're scared. And she already saw herself as unworthy of that freedom at that age. She's not like Sanji, she was born to play the role of a monster. Even with her intact emotions, she's still trained soldier. She has the symbol of Germa tattooed on her, how could she ever escape it? She has blood on her hands; not because of her own choices, but because of the commands she's physically incapable of disobeying. She looks at him and tells him he looks so much like their mother, but she denies to accept that so does she.

She's the firstborn, dad's perfect little girl, his first success, his obedient property. The man who she grew to hate so much, when she found out he was going to be assassinated, she didn't warn him, because she hoped it would actually happen. Even if it meant throwing her own life away as well. When she saw him beg for his life she just, rightfully, felt no guilt or remorse. Just anger and satisfaction, even as she herself was about to die, something that seemed she wanted happen. But when he got attacked later on, she showed concern, because unlike Sanji, to her he still is, dad. He's dad, who held you and called you his wonderful child. He's dad, who raised you and showed pride in you. He's dad, who potentially put some sort of authority chip in your brain and forced you to stain your hands in blood. He's the man who killed your mother. She hates him. She wants him dead. She can't stop seeing him as family, and shows concern when he's hurt. It's more complex than how her brother sees him, and it's visceral and real and upsetting.

She had to stay behind. And after all of that, she had to relive the goodbye to the only person left in her family whom she ever loved. God. I hope she gets to see Sanji again. I hope she escapes. I hope one day she finally gets to taste his cooking. She never got the chance to do that, didn't she?

The most of people like fluff fanfictions, smut fanfictions or even angsts.

But no, my brain decided that I must be obsessed with Watching the show/reading the book fanfictions.

Yet another fanfic writer ask game!

Compliment your writing!

How do you react to positive comments?

How do you react to negative comments?

Post a screenshot of one of your favorite comments

Quote one of your fics out of context

Vaguely spoil one of your fics without telling us which one it is

Share the first line of your five most recently published fics

Share the last line that you wrote

Tell us your favorite thing to drink when you write

Tell us your favorite thing to snack on when you write

What fandom do you write for most often?

What fandom do you want to write for more often?

Do you ever write crossovers?

What two fandoms would you write a crossover for?

What fic of yours would you most like to rewrite?

What is one of your favorite words or phrases to use in writing?

What trope is your favorite to write?

What trope have you not written yet, but want to?

What headcanon do you always include in your stories?

What was the last thing you researched for a story?

What do you do when you get writer's block?

When do you usually write? (day of the week or time of day)

Where do you usually write?

Which fic do you think is your funniest?

Which fic do you think is your saddest?

Which fic do you think is your scariest?

Which fic do you think is your most adventurous?

Which fic is closest to your heart?

Which fic would you most like to have fan art done for?

Which fic would you most like to have its own fanfic written for?

Which fic would you most like to see made into a movie?

Which fic would you most like to write a sequel to?

Which of your fic titles is your favorite?

What title do you want to use, but can't figure out a story to fit?

Have you ever written a fic because you were inspired by a title?

Have you ever written a fic because you were inspired by a song?

Pick one of your fics and share three songs to go with it

Pick three of your fics and share a song to go with each

Pick one of your fics and share an image to go with it. (Unsplash is a good source)

Pick one of your fics and share a quote to go with it (not a quote from the fic, but an outside quote that fits)

@netflix

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Donate 5$ to me or Reblog my post from my blog?

Donation Link

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

Please,if you can, donate.If you can't, reblog or share.

Even a small contribute can make the difference