#<- no matter how much he achieves he is in fact a loser. bury him actually

[brianc521]

Valentines | CEO Peter

Peter was a classy man. He wasn’t one that went for cliches and he wasn’t one to fall for the world's antics on celebrating a ‘day of love’ just as a ploy to spend money on candy and flowers. 

Last year, since you were in love with the idea of valentine's day, he agreed to take you to dinner, allowed you to dress him up and then dress him down at the end of the night.

Hearts and flowers weren’t totally this thing, or well at least not in public. 

This time around? Different story.

Peter is really lovesick. He is head over cufflinks in love with you. You’re wearing his ring, and your initials are tattoo’d just behind his ear. He is devoted to you, and he wants you to know that. So he might have gone a little crazy. It really didn’t help that he hasn’t seen you all week.

You’ve been in Ohio, with he who shall not be named, on a work business trip. You were meant to be home yesterday morning, but weather loves to fuck things up. Your plane was delayed and you didn’t end up getting into town but around 3 am this morning. Since your brother lives just around the corner from the airport, and you and Peter live a good 45 minutes away, it just made sense to crash at Ashtons. 

Peter understood, and really didn’t want you driving that far while being dead tired, he needed you safe. With that said, it still really sucked to spend yet another night alone in the cold sheets. 

Soooooo, that amped up his wanting to do something special for you.

The man not only had the whole store catered for breakfast for you and your employee’s, he also had your office completely filled with dozens of bouquets of roses and sunflowers (your two most favorite flowers). 

But that’s not all. You kept finding little gifts everywhere. Opening your desk drawer to grab a notepad left you munching on a box of chocolates. Accepting the shipment for the day had you hugging a 6 ft teddy bear. 

You called him once the shipment guys left, leaving you alone in the back of the shop.

“Mrs. Mendes, Happy Valentine’s day!” Stan answers cheerfully. 

“Hi Stan! Happy Valentine’s day to you too!” 

“Thank you Mrs. Mendes.” 

“He busy right now?” You ask, chewing on your thumb nail. 

You hear some shuffling and a murmured voice. “He’s about to step into a meeting, he’s walking past me as we speak.” 

“My wife?” You hear in the background, and then suddenly his voice fills your ear. “Hi Baby.” 

“Hi Love.” You sigh, melting into your seat from the sound of his voice alone. “I don’t wanna keep you.” 

“Please do.” He responds.

“Bad meeting?” 

“A fire is about to go out.” He nods, using some code to tell you he’s about to fire someone. 

“Oh, well then call me after.” 

“Or better yet, I’ll pick you up after.” He quips. 

“Um,” 

“I got the rest of the day off.” He bribes. 

“Okay, when should I expect you.” You grin.

“Really? You can come?” 

“Baby, I’m the boss, I can leave if I want. I’ve just spent the week working for this place in a different state.” 

“It’s sexy when you say things like that.” You hear a gag and then Peter’s rough chuckle. “Fuck off Stan.” 

You smile and bite your lip, taking notice of how good of a mood he’s in. 

“Well? Am I ditching this place or what?” 

“Be ready in 30, this fire won’t take long.” 

“Okay, and Mr. Mendes?” 

“Yes?”

“You’re always sexy.” 

He chokes a bit and you giggle as you hang up your phone, strutting your stuff off to the sales floor to tell Micheal you’ll be leaving soon.

**

You start running a little when you see him leaning against his 2019 Porsche 911. He looks too good to be true, and he’s all yours.

“Baby!” He cheers, standing up straight to catch you as you jump into his arms. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. His arms tighten as you bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your neck as he takes in a deep breath of your perfume. A plus from you working at a body shop, you always smell so good. 

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your skin. “Don’t ever leave me for that long again.” 

“I won’t, that was pure torture.” 

He walks you around to the passenger side of his car, tapping your bum a few times to get you to hop down. 

“Can I drive?” You grin at him, eyeing the car. 

“If you’re good maybe I’ll let you someday, but today I have plans in store that are meant to be a surprise.” He says helping you into the seat. He shuts your door, walking around the car and slipping in himself. 

“Can I have a kiss then?” 

“You don’t even have to ask that question.” He hums, leaning over the console to plant his lips on yours. 

“Thanks for my flowers, chocolates, and teddy bear. Although I don’t need a teddy bear, I already have you.” 

“Okay, so you’re going to be extra cheesy today?” He raises his eyebrow at you as he pulls out of the parking garage. 

“Me? You sir had me drowning in roses today.” 

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ve arranged for Bailey to get your gifts at the end of the work day when the store closes. I don’t want him messing up your conversion walking in and out so much.” 

You stare at him in awe and lean over to kiss his cheek. “The team says thank you for breakfast, and I’m saying thank you for being an incredible husband.” 

“Speaking of that.” He clears his throat. “We keep calling each other husband and wife.” 

“Yes we do and it confuses the hell out of everyone, I love it.” You giggle. 

“What if it didn’t anymore?” He inquired. 

“What do you mean?” 

“What if I told you we’d actually be married by the end of the night?” 

“Really?” 

“What if I told you Bailey was setting up an Officiant right now?” 

“Really?” You squeal turning to him. “What about the wedding we’re already planning? You know with our Mom’s, the planner, the dress designer?” 

“We’ll have that.” He nods. “But it’s taking too long to make you my actual wife. So what if we got married today, and again in a year when the wedding’s planned. We’ll know we’re already married, to everyone else they’ll celebrate our marriage, for us we’ll celebrate our anniversary?” He grins, looking at you.

“I think I’m in love with you, and that I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Anything?” He teases. 

“I mean a honeymoon has to happen right?” You tease back. 

“Oh Baby you don’t even know what you just asked for.”

**

You stare at yourself in the mirror and smile. Peter had taken you to pick out a simple dress for tonight, then to a jeweler to pick out his and your ring, and then dropped you off at home with a stylist team to glam you the fuck up. 

Bailey holds the door for you as you climb into the limo. Peter’s going full out tonight. Pulling out all the stops.

The drive to the venue is short, mainly because you’re heavy in your thoughts, but before you know it Bailey is opening the door for you and helping you out. 

You’re handed a bouquet of roses and sunflowers while ushered into the dim building. A few of the stylists fuss about a few strands of your hair, and fix your dress a bit. When they finally have perfected your look they scurry away.

Music starts and Bailey appears to open the double doors for you. “Ready?” He asks softly.

“More than ready.” You smile at Bailey.

“You make a beautiful Bride Mrs. Mendes, thank you for being in our lives.” With that Bailey opens the door and watches you walk down the aisle. 

Peter has booked out the most amazing venue, it’s empty, save for an arch in place behind Peter and the officiant. Raul and Shawn stand in the front row, both in nice slacks and a button up shirt. Raul’s in red, Shawn’s in yellow, matching your flowers. They both smile at you and watch you walk to Peter at the end of the aisle. 

Before you know it Peter is dipping you down to kiss you fiercely, you’re named Mrs. Mendes, officially, and suddenly the world is just right. You finally feel like you belong in this crazy place. 

“Congrats!” Shawn cheers, Raul whistling as Peter stands you back up, hand firmly gripping your ass. 

You giggle as you pull away, turning towards the boys. Peter kisses your cheek and is ready to whisk you off, but you laugh harder as you stare at Shawn and Raul.

“What are you laughing at Sis?” Raul asks. 

“You look like Ketchup and Mustard.” You lose it when they stare at each other and laugh too. Peter lets out a good belly laugh and shakes his head. 

“Let’s go, I’m ready to take my wife home, and kick these losers out.” He tugs you down the aisle. 

“Oh we can at least get the McDonalds boys dinner.” You giggle, cackling at the fact that your jokes are just gonna keep on rolling. 

“Wow, make her a Mendes and she suddenly feels like she can tease you.” Shawn says to Raul, nudging his elbow. 

Raul grins and rushes towards you and Peter, swooping you up over his shoulder, twirling in circles. “Oh Sis, what’s the matter? Feeling a little dizzy?”

“Raul stop!” You laugh, hitting his back repeatedly. 

“Raul.” Peter stands straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Put my wife down before something seriously happens to you.” 

“Ooh, scary.” Raul scoffs, setting you back on your heeled feet. You sway and reach for Peter as you try to regain your footing. 

Peter swings you up into his arms, holding you with one arm under your back and the other under your knees. 

“What is with you two and picking me up?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s customary for the groom to walk his wife over the threshold.” 

“We’re not home though.” You point out with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m practicing then.” He grins, leaning down to kiss you softly. 

“Okay, we don’t need to see you practice for the honeymoon.” Shawn gags. 

Peter rolls his eyes, looking to Bailey as you all step outside. “Bailey, take Mickey-” He points to Shawn, “And Dee-” He points to Raul, “Home so I can take my wife away from the greasy mess they are.” 

“Haha.” Shawn rolls his eyes. “Very funny dickhead.” Raul shakes his head. “You wanted us to match her flowers, we were good brothers and followed your orders. Should be thanking us.” 

Peter smiles, looking at his brother, setting you down and engulfing each in a huge hug. “I do thank you. Thanks for being the witnesses to the greatest achievement of my life.” 

Each brother wraps you up in a big hug, leaving you with your Husband. 

“Well Mrs. Mendes,” Peter holds your hand as he leads you to his Porsche. “What do you say about driving me to the beach house?”

“I get to drive?” 

“I told you if you were good you could.” He nods opening the drivers side for you.

“And if I want to be bad?” 

“Oh Baby you’ve got a whole mini honeymoon to be bad.” 

“Mini honeymoon?” 

He nods, leaning against the car. “Beach house this weekend, alone. Month in Bora Bora once you’re settled at work.” 

You raise your eyebrows, grinning at him. “So I have a lot of time to be bad.”

“Do your worst Mrs. Mendes.”

[heyitmelexie]

No One Compares To You (Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader) Chapter 1

Hi guys! Something new from me today!

This will be a fanfiction with several chapters. If you want to be tagged - just tell me!

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 1935

Summary: You are the daughter of Pepper and Tony. Currently living isolated (by choice) in Siberia to work on your master’s exam, someone stumbles into your life and changes it completely.

Author’s Note: In this work Pepper and Tony are a couple for way longer. The Events starting with Captain America: The Winter Soldier (and following) will happen at the same time they actually did (sounds weird but I think you know what I mean). 

Always here for advice so please tell me what you think and what I could do better! :)

Now enjoy ♥

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

Snow was falling heavily outside your hut. Like every day, Siberia was covered in snow, a white fairy tale, far away from any other civilization. It was just you, the forest and its inhabitants. And you loved it.

The white landscape of Siberia was a dream. An introvert’s dream, mostly, but a dream after all. Although your hut was miles and miles away from the next city you didn’t feel alone or isolated. The animals here were your friends. Thanks to a part of your mutation, you were able to communicate with all animals. You didn’t need human interaction if it wasn’t necessary. All you needed was a nice cup of hot chocolate, your fire place, a good book and occasionally a funny chat with a bear friend maybe. Doesn’t sound so bad, right?

The silence here helped a lot to focus on your studies. You studied palaeontology and were working on your master’s exam. It consumed most of your time, but it was worth it. Fascinating and exactly what you wanted to do since you watched Jurassic Park for the first time when you were about 5.

You remember the moment you first looked at the hut your dad had bought for you. And he had said jokingly “I spared no expenses” when you walked around the rooms. Luckily, he respected your wishes and didn’t make it all too extravagant. You know, Tony Stark style, all tech and stuff. But you wanted it cosy and decent and he kept it that way. It was a beautiful little wooden hut in the middle of a Siberian forest with a little pond right next to it. A little kitchen, modern but nothing high-tech. Wooden furniture with fuzzy rugs, a bunch of fluffy pillows and blankets, stuff like that. Basically how you would imagine a semi-modern wooden hut in the middle of nowhere. With a basement stuffed with food and drinks for months. Cosy as heck.

Tony didn’t mind that you weren’t a tech geek like him or a business woman like your mother Pepper, he was proud anyways. You did everything in order to reach your goals and to achieve your dreams. Never once did you complain that it was stressful to write so many essays, that it was stressful having that many deadlines. Never. The only thing you did was huff in frustration occasionally, but nothing else. You were tough, like your mother, and he appreciated it. You looked like a chubby mini-version of Pepper mixed with Merida. You were a ginger, messy curls that almost reached your butt and pale skin covered in freckles. Eyes like your mothers and a character exactly like hers, with a little bit of Tony showing sometimes. The side of Tony that messed with Pepper all the time. So Tony saw a mini-Pepper in you and Pepper saw a mini-Tony in you. Perfect.

Your childhood as the Stark kid was rather normal, considering the circumstances. Your parents always made sure that you were out of danger and didn’t witness all of the things they’ve been put through. But when you grew up and developed your mutation, they had to take action.

At the age of 5 you started to do weird things by accident. The first thing that happened was that, during a tantrum, you somehow created a small tornado that completely messed up your whole room. Baffled you had stopped crying immediately and watched in silence, fascinated yet shocked at how that could have happened. You had only felt a slight vibration rushing throughout your body but assumed it was because of the anger you had felt. Today you know it was the power soaring through your body before all hell broke loose.

It would take too long to count and explain all the things that happened after that first incident, so let’s just explain the mutation rather simple: You were able to control all five elements and connected to that you could communicate with animals. ¹ To you the mutation was a gift. You absolutely loved it and wouldn’t want it any other way. It was perfect to you. Logically you went to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. During your time there you discovered everything your mutation had to offer. Which sometimes resulted in cataclysmic situations (a huge and deep hole in the ground, a completely dried out pond, stuff like that) but today you were completely in charge of it. You used your mutation to do good things like growing trees and grass, creating wells with fresh water in regions of need, restoring sections of the rainforest, things like that. But, if necessary, you could use it as a weapon as well. You just didn’t have to, yet.

All in all your life wasn’t too bad. The only thing bothering you was your body.

You have always been a heavy kid. Your family didn’t mind, they loved you nonetheless and always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the entire universe. They always told you that it doesn’t matter if you’re thick or thin. That people might be mean towards you because they think they are better than you just because they were skinny but that their foul words would mean nothing.

One day you came home from school crying because the new kid in your class had called you bad names because of your weight and had made fun of you.

“People can be arse holes” your dad had said to you.

“Tony!” Your mother lightly slapped his arm and looked at him angrily.

“You know I’m right, Pepper. People can be really mean. So sweetie, listen to me. If they say mean things to you: Ignore them. Nothing, absolutely nothing is wrong with you. You are beyond perfect the way you are. Yes you are chubbier than other kids but you’ve got a heart of gold which they don’t have and that makes you better than them. Being kind is way more important than being skinny. You are a little angel and you make me and mommy extremely proud. And no one can ever tell us different. Because people are often very superficial and judge others by their looks. There are people that might be ‘super skinny and beautiful’ but when you get to know them they’re shit.” Another slap. You giggled a little and sniffled and he continued.

“Whatever you do in your life, remember that you do it for yourself and not for others. Never change yourself for anyone. Never let anyone tell you how to live your life and certainly never let anyone rule over you. Your life lies in your hands. Yours only. Your body doesn’t define you, but your character, your actions and the way you treat others do. So stay who and how you are. Be kind, help those that need help and do good things. And don’t you ever worry about the size and shape of your body. You are gorgeous the way you are, honey and I love you to pieces. You don’t need negative people in your life. But there will be people who will love you for who you are. And honestly? If someone thinks you’re not pretty just because you’re bigger, than they are idiots and superficial losers with sticks high up their asses.” He winked at you and you giggled. Your mom just shook her head but smiled.

It made you feel better to hear these words from your dad but the kids at school continued calling you names and bullying you. Their behaviour made you hate your body and at some point not even your parents or even auntie Nat could make you feel better.

You had always wished for a Prince Charming that would love every bit of your body passionately and that would treat you like a Greek goddess. Little did you know that someone would soon burst into your life like uncle Steve once crashed full force into a bridal shop back in the day (he had told you the story several times when you were younger) and turned it upside down, positively.

But back to your current situation. It’s around five pm. You’re sitting on your sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, a mug with hot chocolate on the table and your laptop on your legs, working on your exam paper. This week has been very successful, you’ve filled about 21 more pages and the topic captivated you more and more. You wrote about the Jurassic Park movies and their accuracy compared to the real deal back then. As much as you loved the movies, but many facts were just wrong. A 2-meter Velociraptor? Yeah, no. There were 10 more pages ahead of you and 2 more weeks of time to fill them. 120 pages in 6 months, you felt very proud of yourself.

You decided to stop writing for today. Your eyes grew heavy and your mind was empty for now. And you knew that before you could have a relaxing bath you would have to go outside and carry some wood inside for the fire place. So you put on thick clothing and stepped outside into the cold evening. ² As you made your way to the little shack that holds your wood you noticed a dark pile of something between the trees, halfway covered in snow. This doesn’t look like an animal. It’s all black and doesn’t seem to have any fur covering it. Strange.

Wondering what or who this could possibly be you slowly made your way towards it, preparing for a possible assault. Maybe it’s a human? But who, besides me, would be out here? You hadn’t seen any other human in the past almost 6 months since you live here. And someone getting lost and finding exactly your hut in this isolated area? Only a small chance but you would have to see.

As you got closer you saw a face almost completely buried in the snow. Now you realized there was actually a man lying in the snow, half frozen to death, face blue and body stiff. You felt for a pulse. First you didn’t feel anything and almost panicked but then you could feel a slight beat against your fingers and exhaled relieved. He lived.

You picked him up but struggled. He was really heavy. Not able to carry him all the way back to your hut like this you just drag him through the snow and into the warmth. You put a thick blanket in front of the fire place and him onto it. Then you used your powers to slowly warm him up and at the same time dry him off. The colour slowly crawled back into his face and you felt his pulse getting stronger.

When his body had a normal temperature again you covered him in a bunch of blankets and went into the kitchen to prepare some hot chocolate.

He was wearing weird clothing. All black and it resembled some weird kind of uniform. Also a mask covering his mouth and goggles that you both had taken off his face. It gave you a creepy feeling but for now you would have to make sure he’d get better again before you could ask him some questions.

You just took some mini marshmallows out of the bag to put them on top of the hot chocolate as a body pressed you against the counter. The person wrapped an arm tightly around your torso to hold you in place and you felt a blade being pressed against your throat.

“Move and I’ll kill you.”

(End of Chapter 1)

Author’s Note:

1) Five elements: Air, Fire, Earth, Water and Soul. I got this idea from House of Nights. The main character was able to control the soul element if I remember correctly, I read the books too many years ago to remember any details but this is only an explanation as to why I am referring to five elements rather than four as people usually do. I also personally think seeing the soul as a fifth element is quite logical, it’s as natural as the other elements. But this is not just the soul of a human, it’s basically also the soul of animals and plants etc. It will occur that I’ll talk about auras and moods and stuff like that. Like, seeing the aura of people mostly (like the concept of Vampire Academy), the aura having different colours indicating their moods and states of their souls and stuff like that. I will also create a little legend that tells you what colour means which mood or state of mind/soul.

2) Of course basically you could warm yourself up with your mutation but everything has a price. Using it too much means you’re also using your own energy and that is exhausting. So you rather only use it if you have to, saving your energy.

[mamusings]

Supernatural Season 1 Thoughts

So I'm rewatching mainly to distract myself from the dogs breakfast the show has descended into. But also because my feelings about the show as a whole are decidedly mixed. I come to it as a buffy fan. I've always been curious about spn as a successor show to buffy, but only watched thr first 13 seasons in 2020. Blame lockdown.

Anyway s1. Blinding start, blinding finish. But the middle is just too many MOTW episodes without enough season arc development. I keep wondering who the show is for. It feels aesthetically very male. Lots of blood, guns and violence. Well-realised horror feel - although I think it's hard to really feel fear when you dont particularly care about who might die. It's only when you threaten a major character death that things hit harder. Also the genuflecting to realism by drawing on urban myths feels like something for stereotypically 'male' rather than 'female'. Probably reflects my preferences that I was never to into the MOTW format some buffy fans loved and that I was always more interested in the story telling than realism or even consistency. Monsters as metaphors works better for me. But Spn is a much more cloistered universe. Two guys and their absent father is what s1 is about. But it dits weirdly between being comfort viewing and needing attention. There's much that starts to feel formulaic with MOTW episodes: Impala on the road scene, some rock music, an opener that gives you a new mystery and people to go with it blah blah. You can practically set your watch by the final denouement happening in the final 8 mins. It feels like the show is diligently checking off every myth and monster going which gets tedious. I found the need for setting up yet another family in danger was something that gets hard to care about. "Oh look a couple, someone's gonna die, shall I fast forward until sam and dean show up." And yet there are some interesting undercutting of the white working class vibe the show has. Two that stand out to me are: the 'female gazing' of the camera work off Sam and Dean. There's a lot of panning - are we getting in the boys with the guns and hardware and then offering up the handsome male bodies for women? I felt a little cheap, but they they are v cute. The other is having a black/bi racial woman play Dean's only serious love interest. The ghost truck thing is terrible but putting attitudes to race at the centre of this particular storyline was intriguing. Perhaps a counter balance to the overall wwc feel of things. (Full disclosure I am a black woman and I enjoyed seeing this - even tho I did have several moments of wondering was the predominant female look so uniform back then. All the girls have the same build (and did we all wear such low rise jeans?) plus long, wavy/curly hair...except Meg who basically has Sam's hairstyle ha ha)

What's impressive? The first few episodes give us a cluster of core lines: bitch/jerk, no chick flick moments, and the sibling dynamic This show hits its stride right in the pilot and wendigo is still one of the scarier episodes. Thats a really good opening shot imo.

It's no surprise that what's really riveting is Sam and Dean. But on rewatching I saw a lot more on why this is so interesting. Basically when the characters are introduced you first get Sam. He's your archetypal nice guy whis hot everything though for him. Stanford, girlfriend, friends, great test score but also and crucially hes likeable. Then you get Dean and hes introduced as a dick. Breaks in, wrestles Sam, comes on to/is sleazy with Sams gf. So cocky bad boy: check.

In the pilot dean is the annoying big brother to a t. So they set up two contrasting personalities. Dean is disrespectful to cops, Sam is embarrassed by it. Dean is into hunting, Sam is unwillingly persuaded. Dean is insensitive, Sam kinder and sweet. Dean plays dumb, Sam's the academic achiever. But what we witness over the course of the season essentially reverses this. Sam's the real rebel defying his father, Dean the obedient son. Dean gets a lot of scenes showing him make swift emotional connections esp with children or people in caretaker roles. Dean's very adult 'I'm 26 of course I go on hunts alone' is unmasked by the fact he gets Sam to help him because hes lonely. And Dean (often clumsily) tries to help Sam move on about Jess and open up about his nightmares. While the explicit dialogue casts Sam as the geeky loser brother what we see in this season is that the loser is actually Dean. Sam has friends, Sam has a relationship, Sam has a life he wants to get back to. Dean has no one and some of the hardest emotional hits this season are when his mask is lifted to show us just that. For instance shape shifter Dean voices his jealousy in Skin. Also Azazel taunts Dean about how he needs Sam and John in a way that they dont need him.

The closing episodes really bring some of these contrasts home. Dead Mans Blood gives us a great bonding scene between Sam and John, for me that's a moment where it falls into place that they so much in common that it leaves Dean on the outside. They both loved women they lost to a demon. For both of them (at this stage) the mission, as in killing this demon, matters more than family. Its Dean who constantly prioritises family, even while his family deprioritise him. Both Sam in Salvation and John in Devils Trap put sacrificing themselves to kill the demon as their first priority. Whereas Dean consistently argues for family, first persuading John that they are stronger together, then telling Sam that the three of us 'is all I have' in Salvation. The point gets hammered home in Devils Trap where Dean says (in case the stupid viewer missed it "you and Dad are a lot more alike..cant wait to sacrifice yourselves, but I'm going to be the one to bury you").

Much of the rest of the relationship development is about showing us the partnership Sam and Dean are developing. You see increasing ease in working together - maybe most cliched in how they toss weapons back and forth in Hell House. Plus that interesting sibling dynamic when you love someone and find them intensely annoying that feels enjoyable even if your own sibling relationship is nothing like it.

But what's interesting is that while Dean's character is revealed throughout the season. You see through the episodes the difference between his Dean presents himself and hiw he is, but dean doesn't change. Hes immature and emotionally driven I'd also savvy and brave. Its Sam who changes. Not in how he is, but in his priorities. Sam realises the good bit about Dean among the stuff that irritates him. But most importantly the final episode shows us Sam moving from thinking the mission is what matters just like John. To thinking his family matters more. He doesnt shoot Azazel inside John and when John berates him for it his look at the bloodied-up Dean in the rearview mirror speaks volumes.

It's all the more striking because thus argument has been the core dilemma for the last 3 episodes. It's also the crux of how Dean, for all his obedience, sees himself as falling short of who his father wants him to be. He cant turn his heart off. Its Dean who calls his dad sounding like a tearful little boy in Home. It's when John approves of him making the heart choice and using the colt to save Sam, that Dean realises it's not his father but Azazel speaking. I find that painful to watch it's been so well set up. You get lots of preview of Dean really wanting approval and when it finally comes and you're all ahh fsmily bonding, Dean puts it together and goes you're not my father. Ouch.

Absent fathers and eventually I guess an absent God is a big spn theme. So there is something to say for looking at it in this season. John's absence is the driver of the whole season. But it's also the foundation stone of both Sam and Dean's character. What we get most of in s1 is a sense of the impact of his fathers absence on Dean. The childhood neglect, but also the absence of approval. My European background always makes it jarring when children address their father as sir so I hope I'm not over reading this. When John gets back the way it emasculates Dean is jarring. The jumping to attention with the yessirs and the following orders is such a distance from the cocky law breaker. Its interesting that the first scenes in which I recall the boys speaking in unison are these yessirs. But the scene I remember most is a trivial one, Dean offers John a machete out of Babys messy looking trunk - hes already been pulled up by dad for inadequate car maintenance. But John pulls a bigger, better, cleaner machete out of his high spec truck - Dead Mans Blood. Sums it up for me. Dean is so eager for approval, his father withholds it so casually. Sam is less like this, because he had Dean to parent him however ineptly. Sam did not have a hoid parent in Dean, but Dean showed up. Sam starts to make that realisation in season 1 and there are a few thank you moments. Contrast Dean's only outburst against his father when hes admonished to call when in trouble. He takes a leaf out of Sam's book and notes that they did call in Lawrence and they called when Dean was dying in Faith, hes angry and rightly so. John didn't show. But its interesting that Dean's fight with John sounds like a child fighting with a parent. It even ends with 'I dont care for your tone' from John even as he accepts Dean's point. Constrast Sam and John who have a much deeper ongoing disagreement. But Sam fights his father from an adult position. He's not looking for approval or acceptance, Sam claims his ground, argues his point. Dean still just needs to be loved.

But as well as the impact of the absent parent there is also having grown beyond the parent. I feel like the final few episodes show us that 'the boys' have surpassed their father. John's fake colt idea is lame and Dean calls it. By contrast the devils trap at Bobby's to catch Meg feels like a moment of brilliance particularly as the trap is sprung on the viewer so we feel surprised too.. Sure they call in help from Bobby, but what they do is well planned and they pull it off. And calling in helo when you need it us grown up.

Theres an element of fate vs character exploration when it comes to Sam and Dean. What happens to Sam is fate. It's not related to how he is or how he behaves. We find that out more fully soon. Whereas what happend to Dean relates to his character. IMO Dean actually has the option of walking away from hunting that Sam tried to exercise. Unlike Sam, hunting wouldn't have pursued Dean by killing his girlfriend. But Dean's character means he doesnt chose to walk away because family is important to him, in a way that it isn't for Sam until the end of this season. Its interesting that Sam perceives of himself as having choices he doesn't have. Whereas Dean sees himself as having no choice, when in fact he does. But I guess we don't know that yet so maybe the argument doesn't work?

#supernatural #sam #dean #winchester

[axelsandwich]

Sorting The Untamed characters

In which I have a lot of feelings about sorting The Untamed characters into @sortinghatchats​ classifications because I’m a LOSER NERD WITH FEELINGS : D

Wei Wu Xian - Gryffindor primary/Gryffindor secondary

WWX’s Gryff energy is like….what are you so LOUD for. There’s nothing he can do other than stick to his morals and principles and what his gut is telling him is the right thing to do, no matter the cost. Even if it makes him public enemy number one of the cultivation world, even if it exiles him from his family and clan, even if it goes against everything he was taught and involves helping and saving his worst enemies - see: Wen clan in Xuanwu cave, the cultivators in Burial Mound after losing their spiritual powers due to Su She. This is someone who adheres brightly and with his all to his principles simply because it is the RIGHT thing to do and he knows this with unshaken conviction and is steady once he discovers this, which has its own power. 

Honestly I was actually initially thinking between Slytherin with Claw and Claw secondary because WWX has an improvisational streak to him, managing to thrive even when thrown into the worst of circumstances with a combination of his own prodigious skill and flexibility when it comes to drastically relearning the dark arts to compensate for a lack of golden core. But here’s the passage that convinced me otherwise: “it is a Gryffindor’s stark, direct honesty makes them them feel the most secure. Lies, or even misdirects, are slippery footing. For a Gryffindor Secondary, their blunt honesty is a facet of their personality and their morality—lying about who or why you are taints the victory. A Gryffindor Secondary can and will lie if the cause is important enough— but it will leave a bad taste in their mouth the same way trusting a stranger with their honesty might terrify a Slytherin Secondary.” The blunt honest is self-evident in…well, WWX’s entire existence lmao but even when young in the Gusu Lan sect. But what convinces me is after WWX gets Chenqing and the way the great lie about why he doesn’t use Suibian anymore is framed afterwards. It kills WWX to lie about all that he is, it’s presented as one of the fundamental tragedies of his story - the ultimate betrayal of himself that he makes for a greater purpose and in pursuit of his Gryff primary ideals. The fact it’s not treated lightly or as a tool to be used to achieve his goals is what makes him a Gryff secondary. 

He models a Claw’s curiosity and intellectual fascination with questioning the world order and a Slytherin’s keen eye for motivations and people, but ultimately it comes down to that red thread of charging when backed into a corner - quite literally, he charges towards the Xuanwu, out of Chiongqi Road with the Wen prisoners, into the plaza of cultivators calling for his ashes, directly into Guanyin temple where Jingyi is in danger; he puts himself in harm’s way without a second thought when his gut is telling him he’s right to do so. He also has the classic Gryff secondary trait of amassing an accidental army in his wake of the most unlikely people, all transformed by his draw and that irresistible quality of truth to him. 

Lan Wang Ji - Gryffindor primary/Ravenclaw secondary

LWJ is a quiet version of the Gryffindor primary, raised in a culture that forces him into like…the strongest of all Ravenclaw models. He adheres strictly and obediently to the Lan clan’s system of the world because in his mind, it was the right thing to do… until WWX forces him to re-examine his morality, about what he was taught and everything he believed was right. And when his model of the world is challenged, what he ultimately goes with is…his heart. Not necessarily because his morality is guided by how WWX is his in the same way of Slytherin/Hufflepuff’s personal morality, but because WWX embodies the new insight that nothing is truly black or white in the way his clan’s system has taught; because LWJ feels that WWX is good, even when every other rule he’s been taught is saying otherwise and, little by little, he rebels quietly by dismantling those systems that once shaped his worldview. 

LWJ wrestles visibly with this the entire flashback arc of the drama, unable to bring himself to denounce WWX despite all the ‘bad’ he had done all the way until the Nightless City battle and when push came to shove, at the very end, he still chose to clutch onto WWX’s hand until WWX made the choice for him to let go. I do think he was ‘stripped’ by the experience - his internal compass, sense of purpose, and even sense of worth broken by the loss of WWX and that’s what he spends 16yrs atoning and suffering for. After WWX’s revival, he accordingly sets himself up against the cultivation world with no hesitation because he’s had 16yrs to regret not following his Gryff primary heart that said WWX’s way of seeing the world is right and he’s not going to falter again. 

Ravenclaw secondary bc……his first instinct when his boyfriend was changed by demonic cultivation was to flip the library upside down trying to find a cure and try to invent a whole ass song to cure him nghghghshf. But yes, he’ll fall back on systems, skills and knowledge he’s carefully built from the ground up when backed in a corner, drawing on what he’s known and carefully cultivated, looking through resources to try and gain more knowledge. 

Wen Qing - Slytherin primary/Slytherin secondary

Wen Qing’s morality and driver is very simple. It’s her brother at the start, her family, and gradually expands as people help him and - by extension - her: WWX, LWJ, Jiang Cheng. For them, she’ll betray the wider clan with very few qualms because they’re not her people and those who are hers come first. She connects with Jiang Cheng on the basis of both their Slytherin primaries, but understands immediately that he would never have gone with her to rescue Wen Ning because while she may tentatively be one of ‘his’ people in his mind, Wen Ning isn’t, and so any future with him is tragically unaccepted. When it comes down to sacrificing even the brother she holds so dear, she does it in the hope that her people - WWX and her wider family by proxy - may be saved from the cultivation world’s wrath. She’s a Slytherin secondary because she’s adaptable and able to draw on whatever skills she needs and be who she needs to be to achieve her goals, with a knack for zeroing in precisely on people’s true motivations and what will and won’t work with a cultivation society looking to find a bad guy. You can bet she’s the one who figured out how to trick Jiang Cheng into believing he could get his golden core back. It’s telling that her most emotional moments are when she lays down all her defences and sincerely speaks from the heart - whether it’s crying over Wen Ning’s body or thanking Wei Wu Xian and apologising. ; _ ; Wen Qing is a good egg. 

Jiang Cheng - Slytherin primary/Gryff secondary

It’s clear from the start that Jiang Cheng’s morality revolves around his family who are his and come above everyone else, along with his pride (but we’re not gonna talk about thatttt...). His impassioned plea of ‘it was enough to just save ourselves, why did you have to save them’ re: bringing the Wen clan wrath upon the Jiang clan proves he could never see eye to eye with WWX’s Gryffindor primary that demands what is right be applied to all, and therein lies the source of their feud, when we get to the pointy end and doing what’s right involves a lot more sacrifice and hardship. Jiang Cheng’s very specialised loyalty is tested over and over throughout the beginning of the series by outsiders casting suspicion on WWX’s motivations, pricking at his pride and his deep set insecurities about his own position and whether he’s actually loved by the people he’s claimed as his own and also on their priority list (see: his father, WWX). 

What truly makes him give up and cut WWX out of his circle is when WWX himself says ‘I exile myself from the tribe’. In Jiang Cheng’s eyes, to betray the people who are yours is what is unforgivable and impossible to understand, and that’s what comes out as the most deeply buried point of pain in Guanyin temple and what’s driven JC’s anger the last sixteen years. That doesn’t make him any less of an extreme Gryff secondary than WWX, whether it’s charging straight into the feared Burial Mound where no one’s ever come out alive just to drag his brother out and confront him about all the problems directly, to confronting WWX directly in Lotus Cove, to marching into Guanyin temple’s front door. Which is probably why they fight. We also find out in the end that Jiang Cheng is fully capable of the same dumb self sacrifice that WWX made for him. Ironically, both of their actions boil down to ‘I must protect my brother’, except where WWX does it because it’s right, Jiang Cheng does it because that’s his brother. 

Jin Guangyao - Slytherin primary/Slytherin secondary

WWX’s diametric opposite. I do think he seems like a petrified Slytherin - Guanyin temple arc reveals that his world once comprised at least of himself and his mother, and perhaps the idealised image of who his father would be, and he strove and strove until his father shattered all his dreams, until his world narrows until it’s ultimately and dangerously comprised of just himself. I do think Nie Mingjue, Su She, Qin Su and Lan Xichen came the closest to who he would consider ‘his’ people, but even that falls away as they ‘betray’ him and because his actions are ultimately guided by his loyalty only to himself, and warps exactly what he interprets as ‘betrayal’. This is what allows him to betray them when they ultimately fall out of line with JGY’s priorities and give them such cruel endings despite how much he professes to treasure them. It’s what creates his resentment against NMJ that festers until it leads to NMJ’s demise - in JGY’s eyes, to throw aside everything in their relationship for the sake of some lowly, subhuman captain who’s always treated JGY with contempt and to keep holding it against him is incomprehensible, unforgivable. It’s also why LXC stabbing him is met with such choking disbelief and anger - because JGY, true to his word, would have never entertained the concept of betraying a person who was proving to be his and LXC was his last hope. His secondary Slytherin allows him to transform and shift with the wind, shedding personas and layers as easily as water, the same way it pains WWX to do the same. 

Nie Huaisang - Slytherin primary/Slytherin secondary 

Jin Guangyao’s equal and foil, ironically also putting up a very self-entered front in the world where it seems like he only cares about his own self interests but quietly loyal to a select number of people who are his - WWX, his elder brother - and will quietly work in the shadows playing the long con to systematically dismantle everything about the person he despises. Slytherin secondary allows him to make himself a fool without any qualms about it not being a reflection of his true face or authentic self, and pull the puppet strings on even those he cares about until he gets to where he wants to be. 

Lan XiChen - Ravenclaw primary/Ravenclaw secondary

Xichen sticks much more closely to what his clan’s systems are and his carefully constructed understanding of the world and that’s what both blinds him to JGY and shakes his worldview so heavily when JGY reveals himself to be a villain. But his felt morality, guided by the system of being just and fair is also what allows him to reject JGY and entertain the possibility of his betrayal. A Slytherin primary may stubbornly cling to faith in a person that he sees as ‘his’ person, but a Ravenclaw primary will feel guilty and immoral to be sticking with them despite knowing they’re betraying the system of justice that he prides above all. It’s what allows him to be an ally to both WWX/LWJ and JGY for the latter half of the series, trying to understand and question the logical holes in WWX and LWJ’s arguments. Where WWX and LWJ don’t have evidence for JGY being evil, they can feel it in their guts and they charge towards getting that evidence based on those convictions. LXC on the other hand may sense something in his gut but he will not act against JGY without being convinced of said evidence, until he is certain of what the real truth is and will methodically keep digging and questioning the evidence being presented to him until it becomes undeniable. It’s also telling that his anger when Huaisang manipulates him into stabbing JGY is not so much about the fact he betrayed his friend (which is the key pain point that JGY angrily latches onto) but that Huaisang may have been lying, that LXC may have acted on something that was not true and he had been unable to see through that. It’s a subtle difference I think, but what separates his primary. I think his Ravenclaw secondary is pretty obvious in the thoroughness of his methods and the ways we’ve seen him dodge the Wen clan, to be willing to work with JGY during the Sunshot Campaign. It requires flexibility of thinking and drawing on a range of resources and that’s what LXC quietly excels at. 

Jiang Yanli & Wen Ning - Hufflepuff primary/Hufflepuff secondary

Both are honestly quite similar — they’ll hold onto their belief in the basic goodness of all people, regardless of allegiance and regardless of their past history and that’s the source of what endears them to people and why they manage to build an army of people who would die and care for them when push comes to shove. 

The little we see of both Yanli and Wen Ning’s way of operating from a secondary perspective revolves around being of service to others, being a source of reliability, support and consistency, quietly building, strengthening and contributing to their little community. Wen Ning quietly and diligently attends to WWX’s protection at all times, reliably taking on the roles allocated to him with a genuine commitment to performing them to his best ability. 

When they ‘fight’, they fight by drawing on their resources, through a thorough, systematic and relentless persistance. A Li’s approach to the battle of words on Phoenix Mountain is an example of this - she draws upon her position, her knowledge of what is ‘proper’ to do within the community and the goodwill she’s built with Madame Jin to subtly dismantle Jin Zixun’s arguments while still pleasantly entrapping him in the niceties of the community she’s a part of without alienating herself the same way WWX can’t help but do with his bluntness. When JC threatens to push WWX to the limits of his endurance, Wen Ning defends WWX through words, standing up again and again despite being violently thrown back and systematically dismantling all of JC’s defence mechanisms by thoroughly and sincerely pushing back on every false claim and even urging JC to call on the community to verify the truth of his words. They’re indomitable, stubborn and effective and that’s Puff/Puff energy right there.

Jin Ling - Gryff primary/Gryff secondary

Gryff primary…why are you so LOUD for Pt 2. Poor Jingyi, two Gryff secondary uncles and father…he had no chance lmaaaao. Impulsive, reckless, absolutely a ‘charge first and ask questions later’ kid and screaming Gryff secondary. Will bash a hole in a wall when he’s denied entry and get caught by the skeleton demons than like…find another way around, you know? Or charge into Guanyin temple without much second thought. His Gryff primary and his gut morality of what is right - aka. trusting WWX and treating him with fairness - ultimately wins against him being pushed hard into the whole ‘pride in your clan only’ angle by his Slytherin primary uncle, and that’s what allows him to become a WWX duckling (begrudgingly) despite all his puffery and objections. It’s also what lets him survive and accept the betrayal of seeing his other uncle revealed as a villain and how he’s able to reject JGY when his misdeeds become undeniable. I also think it’s super cute he’s the same type as WWX, honestly...it’s why I love their dynamic. He’s the young, unjaded version of his uncle.    

Lan Sizhui - Puff primary/Gryff secondary with a Claw model?

There’s a kindness to Shizui that he extends to Mo Xuanyu, Jin Ling and Wen Ning against convention and despite - in Jin Ling’s case - how hard he tries to create distance in that relationship that makes me think Puff primary and his determination to see everyone as people to be respected. I feel like we don’t see enough of Sizhui in action to really be able to determine his secondary - he has something of secondary Puff/Claw vibes in the way he comes across as quietly diligent, reliable and insightful, but he’s also got a certain amount of fire when he needs to - grabbing people’s legs as a kid, making a move towards possessed Song Lan in Yi City despite WWX telling them all to get out, brawling with the other ducklings when tied up, rushing recklessly back up the Burial Mound path to find WWX and LWJ who were holding back the ghouls etc. Maybe a secret Gryff secondary that’s normally held in place by a Claw or Puff model. 

[theculturedmarxist]

SEVERAL LEDES are buried within journalist Snigdha Poonam’s Dreamers: How Young Indians Are Changing the World. Three-quarters of the way through, she writes: “Rare exceptions aside, my wide-ranging forays into the madness of modern India boiled down to the same thing: the anxieties of young men who no longer know their place in the world. What they find hardest to deal with are women who do.”

The chapter in question, “The Angry Young Woman,” profiles Richa Singh (no relation), a young politician whose confidence and bravery led her to take on the hostile masculinity she found at Allahabad University, where she won an unprecedented victory. A woman had never dared run for president of the students’ union in the 127-year history of the campus. In Allahabad, men dominated all social spaces around town, from the tea shops to the campus facilities, and especially the ins and outs of politics. By winning the election, Singh temporarily changed everything.

But this chapter is the only one in which a woman is profiled. Throughout the rest of 280 pages, Poonam’s intrepid reportage comes from the depths of young male rage and desperation, where everyone seems determined to out-scam everyone else on multiple levels. Stemming from a “whatever works,” “do-or-die” attitude, the men Poonam profiles will stop at nothing to get ahead, no matter who they have to cheat along the way. The title, Dreamers, is deceiving in its optimism because not much of anything hopeful appears in this book.

Right now, over half of India’s population, perhaps 600 million people, are under the age of 25, making them the largest number of young people for any country on earth. This generation’s male population, Poonam writes, are the most desperate since India’s independence. Every month, one million Indian youths enter the workforce, yet only 10,000 of them get jobs — a staggering statistic. The rest feel left behind and abandoned by their own country, so they turn to scams and violence to make money.

As a result, the men Poonam writes about are not driven by morality, but by how fast can they achieve money and fame. Their ability to flip between right and wrong depends only on what they stand to win or lose. Anxious about their future, these men feel they must succeed now or else risk being left behind. Since India’s infrastructure still operates on a foundation of bribery, scams, and corruption from bottom to top — so much, that corruption is often viewed as a virtue — this generation of young Indian men, Poonam writes, will cheat their way to their dreams because it’s all they ever see from politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. If these young men don’t embark on such an ideology right now, they will lose their shot at world domination.

“No matter how poorly placed they find themselves now, they make up the world’s largest ever cohort of like-minded young people, and they see absolutely no reason why the world shouldn’t run by their rules,” Poonam writes.

The consequences for the rest of us, inside and outside of India, of young India’s determination, won’t just be economic. The idea that only they can help themselves will lead this generation of Indians to redefine everything according to their perspective: work, success, morality. It will change our world in ways we can’t yet imagine.

The whole book provides explicit examples of this. In one chapter, Poonam brings us deep inside elaborate call center scams where hierarchies of young men are bilking American seniors out of their pensions with the nonchalance of a lazy afterschool project. In another chapter, various men known as “fixers” operate in rural slums, scamming residents for services they can often get for free. We also meet “talent management” companies ruthlessly exploiting wannabe superstars longing for Bollywood-style fame. These young men, often frustrated or rejected, are desperate for notoriety, only to end up with their aspirations destroyed.

She also investigates dubious English-language instruction centers exploiting the beliefs of young people who think that learning even mangled English will convert them from “losers” into “winners” and help them manufacture a global identity. This dovetails with people wanting to learn just enough cut-price English to get jobs writing punchy, obnoxious content for clickbait websites — exactly what happens in many scenarios.

“The version of English they speak — with colleagues, waiters, customer care executives — will define the future of the language in this country, and, in fact, the future of English worldwide,” Poonam writes. “With India expected to have the largest number of English speakers in the world in the next ten years — overtaking the U.S. — the English they speak will be the English of the future.”

If millions of young Indians are learning whichever bare-bones flavor of English facilitates their ability to scam people and elevate themselves in the corruption hierarchy, then it will have dramatic effects on international business, politics, and entertainment. Such gloomy observations appear all throughout the book.

In each case, the level of fraud and corruption does not unfold in just one direction. Those being supervised in how to perpetrate the scams are often simultaneously scamming their bosses, or even hiring middlemen they can exploit in the process. After someone works long enough in a fraudulent call center operation — whether it’s in tech support, insurance, banking, or travel — he might then quit to start up his own fraudulent call center. After spending a few years with such people, Poonam discovered that the scam soldiers were taking over the scams. Once they learned the tricks of the trade, they gave up on the long hours and started their own operation.

“What did you need to run a tech support scam?” Poonam writes. “A team of five, a rented room, computers, mobile phones, a stash of software, a pop-up vendor, and a friend in the U.S. or U.K. to lend you their bank account.”

The tech-support scammers run the whole operation on Facebook, using pop-up boxes to remotely take over someone’s computer and eventually scam gullible American seniors out of millions. Every petty scammer is now a mastermind on his way to an imagined lifestyle of parties, beautiful girls, and fast cars — things he never had before.

Poonam’s investigations also take her into the dark underworld of mob violence. In the most disturbing chapter among many, she embeds herself with the gau rakshaks, vigilante cow-protection armies, whose logo is a gilded torso of a cow flanked by a pair of swords and AK-47s. Commanders are elected, foot soldiers are chosen, and the groups operate as organized fundamentalist Hindu mobs of angry young men targeting anyone, but especially Muslims and Dalits, who might be smuggling cattle somewhere. Out of social isolation, anxiety, sexual rejection, and the “restless anger of a budding dictator,” the gau rakshaks Poonam investigates all seem frightened by the prospect of a global secular society diminishing their religiosity. They respond by finding solace in the power of violence.

As if that wasn’t enough, Poonam also explores grotesque “anti-Valentine’s Day jihads,” where any violent young man might tie an iron bar to the back of his motorcycle for the purpose of swinging it at couples on Valentine’s Day — all just to injure happy lovers for no other reason. Single, broke, and doubtful that he will ever find a job or a woman that likes him, the type of man who does this, Poonam writes, is

what think pieces explaining the Trump and Brexit verdicts term a loser of globalization, one of the millions of leftover youths whose anger is transforming world politics. […] On an elemental level, he doesn’t know if he matters to the world. There’s only one way left for him to make that happen: punish everyone who’s moved ahead of him in that queue. This is what he thinks politics is about.

Which is obviously why Poonam elevates the female politician Richa Singh above the toxic stew depicted in the rest of the book. Poonam describes Singh as someone inspired by true change, someone who can actually call herself a politician. In a landmark series of events, Singh united minority factions and won an election at Allahabad University. She even sat in on a hunger strike to block the right-wing Hindu nationalist preacher Yogi Adityanath from appearing on campus, which later became pointless since he wound up as the chief minister of Uttar Pradesh anyway.

At times, though, Poonam doesn’t shy away from taking sides, admitting that she was rooting for Singh, “in guilt and in bewilderment.” In one of several confessional passages, Poonam feels a connection with Singh’s causes, but says she doesn’t have Singh’s guts or idealism.

“Singh’s fight against caste, communalism and patriarchy — what she called ‘muscle power�� — voiced most of my issues with the country’s politics,” Poonam writes. “I was drawn to stories of women putting up a fight; reporting and writing about their fight was almost a compensation for not participating in it.”

With the understanding that Dreamers only represents a tiny sample base, the book does not leave any sense of optimism in the reader. Even though Poonam dangles a few threads of hope near the end — Richa Singh’s success is now inspiring more women to enter university politics — one doesn’t come away feeling that anything good can possibly come from the exploits of millions of young men defrauding their fellow humans. The book functions like a damning, almost apocalyptic forewarning.

Whatever does become of half a billion young Indians will have a dramatic effect on the rest of the world, Poonam writes. For example, in the United States and Europe, many people are just becoming aware of Facebook’s and Twitter’s role in the spreading of hatred, misogyny, and religious intolerance. In India, those scenarios are amplified by multiple degrees, and by millions upon millions of perpetrators who want in on the action. The damage caused by troll armies, endless harassment, abuse, and fake stories are far beyond their counterparts in the West, as are millions of Indian twentysomethings pooling their resources to operate call center scams and professional fraud networks on Facebook.

For these men, if their only ideology in life is to cheat their way to the top — “whatever works” — then the planet needs to pay serious attention, Poonam warns. Americans or anyone in the West who thinks they needn’t keep tabs on the rest of the world are in for a dire awakening.

[goodfortune-au]

Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 22: Aftermath

It’s been a few long days since the confrontation at 29 Neibolt Street, and Angel has found herself perpetually tired ever since then. When she’d come in that evening after having gotten home, she didn’t stop to greet Mayor Jello, or prep her lunch for work the following day, or even undress before bed. She just kicked her shoes off and trudged like an emotionally dead zombie to her room, pulled back the covers and crawled in. When she woke the following morning, she rolled out of bed when her alarm went off and went to work. She hadn’t yet processed anything that had happened the previous day; it was almost as if her brain was refusing to acknowledge it. She was avoiding it, she was blocking it out. Thinking about it was just too painful, and she’d dealt with more than her fair share of pain lately as it was, so she simply opted to forget. As she attended to her duties in the library, she was rather distant and absentminded. She kept bumping into things or spacing out during exchanges with patrons, and no matter how she tried she just couldn’t summon the energy to do much else except stumble around and clumsily put things back on shelves. The people couldn’t be bothered to really notice; they regarded her with no more indifference or disdain than usual, so at the very least she had that going for her. Not even the librarian was getting on her case as of late, though she chalked up her more merciful disposition to the fact that A History of Old Derry had at long last been recovered and been checked out to a child much less likely to scatter it to the four winds. She still hadn’t any idea how it had ended up back in the library but she didn’t intend to waste time wondering about it. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.

Forgetting would only get her so far, unfortunately, as it seemed Angel could not stop her mind from dredging up the details of that day no matter how hard she tried. It refused to stay buried in the back of her subconscious, desperate to breathe the air of sentient thought once more by forcing itself back into her immediate focus again and again. Those details kept flooding back in, and would overwhelm her in flashes like a fever dream of some kind. How things had begun, the way they had progressed, and the way that one thing had led to another; it was all she could think about. She kept chasing the events of that day all the way back to the beginning, when she’d seen that ghostly transmission on Channel 27, had heard that voice speaking to her from behind; when she started finding the gifts and watching the Derry Children’s Hour; how she went to bed so miserable on the eve of Valentine’s Day and woken up at the touch of something she had pined for so terribly for so long. How she had relished that first touch. The days he spent building her up, the days he lavished her in praise and gifts and danced with her. The nights they spent laying together in her bed, doing nothing except drinking in each other’s company… The day she had been harassed by those boys in the library, and found him down in the archives… The sight of him… Swallowing down their lifeless bodies… How he had left her alone after that, how she had felt so lonely and isolated and empty, so much so that she almost relapsed, had almost done something terrible to herself. The sight of them at her front door at such a drastic time, and the way they spoke gravely of the things they had seen and witnessed. The addition of Mike into their little group, before they came to the unanimous decision to…

"I'm just saying let's face facts. Real world. Georgie is dead. Stop trying to get us killed too."

"Guh-Georgie's not dead!"

"You couldn't save him, but you can still save yourself-"

"No, t-take it back! You're scared, and we all are, but take it back!"

She didn’t like thinking about it. It just made her stomach roil and turn. The walk back from 29 Neibolt Street was unpleasant for everyone, but for Angel most of all. It was true a couple of them sustained injuries from the confrontation, but the emotional turmoil felt so much more grievous in her battered mind than anything else they collectively suffered. The children had tried so hard to console her as they found their way out of the house and, to their credit, they had selflessly set aside their own trauma for the time being to aid in hers, but in her grief she couldn’t bring herself to be grateful for any of it. She found it harder and harder to be grateful for their company at all as of late, not that she could ever admit that out loud. Depression on top of everything else was hard enough to contend with without having to keep four children from squabbling all the time. No, make that six… Make that seven now. Seven children, and she was just expected to look out for their wellbeing, keep them all happy and safe. What about her, huh? Who was going to look out for her wellbeing, keep her happy and safe? Didn’t she deserve that too? If ever there was a thing to offer her such blessings, it was Pennywise, but they had… They…

“You’re just a bunch of losers! F*ck off!”

“Stop!”

“You’re just a bunch of losers and you’ll get yourself killed trying to catch the stupid f*cking clown!”

Keeping them separated took everything she had. She had snapped out of her catatonic state for a brief moment to assess the fight breaking out right in front of her, and instinct took over. She shoved herself in between them as she’d done so many times before, had tried in vain to keep them from continuing to lash out, but the others thankfully took over for her. Stan and Mike held Richie by the arms, and Ben had his hands full trying to keep Bill back from taking another swipe around her waist at Richie’s face. Eddie and Beverly simply watched in horror at the events unfolding. And then, once the immediate skirmish had been dissolved, the emotions came bubbling up to the surface for her again, and she started to gurgle weakly in front of them all, and then she trekked a thousand miles from the street onto her front lawn, collapsed there, and started to sob again. She didn’t care in that moment that they could all see her like this, didn’t care that she was behaving so helplessly in front of them; this was all simply a long time coming, and in that moment all she really cared about was communicating how she felt. And how she felt was f*cking terrible.

“Look, a*shole, you got her upset all over again!” She could hear Richie yelling at Bill.

“Stop! This is what it wants!” She had heard Beverly say urgently. “It wants to divide us. We were all together when we hurt it. That’s why we’re still alive.”

She could feel something vile and wroth consuming her then. It was a feeling untempered and unbridled that rose up from the pit of her stomach, and it made her seethe, it made her angry. It made the grass wilt beneath her form as she laid there weeping, consumed in heartbreak on her front lawn, and she couldn’t control it any more than she could control her labored breathing. It shocked her to her very core because she didn’t think she could ever have these feelings, let alone entertain them seriously. In that moment she should have felt terrible for having them. She should have immediately denounced those feelings and worked to achieve a better, more fair assessment of the situation. But instead she lays there, sobbing and festering, and she can do little else but succumb to the toxic influence of her current train of thought. None of this would have ever fucking happened if they would have just listened to her. Richie wouldn’t have broken his arm, Ben wouldn’t have gotten wounded, Bill wouldn’t have recklessly endangered all his friends and P… Pennywise wouldn’t have...

She’s sobbing pathetically into the grass, full of sorrow, dripping with righteous anger while the children argue, and she can’t collect herself enough to stop. All she can think about is him. All she can think about is that he was alive and well until she’d stepped in and distracted him. All she can think is that she was the reason he’d gotten hurt, she was the reason he was possibly... She knows she should be more concerned about the children. He had, after all, put them all in danger. It looked as though he was fully prepared to eat at least one of them, and on his way out he lacerated Ben, cut him clear across the stomach and left him to bleed. Why didn’t she care about that? Why the f*ck wasn’t that her first priority? Richie had broken his arm for Christ’s sake. Why didn’t she care? She knows why. Because she took his side, that’s why. It was awful, it was terrible, it was condemnable and frankly reprehensible, but she had warned them not to go after him. She knew him, knew him better than anyone else in this town could ever hope to, and she knew that he would not back down from a threat, not even a threat from the likes of children. He was an ancient and predatorial thing, she knew it, and he was not immune to defending his turf, from protecting what was his. They hunted him down, they trespassed on his property and threatened him; how could she rightly fault him for defending himself? She simply couldn’t. It didn’t matter to her that he had, in a sense, started things between them. She was sure he didn’t intend to actually hurt any of them, because she was certain he would have kept his promise to her in the end. Though he had gone, though he had left her, he... He still loved her, didn’t he?

“Yeah? Well I plan to keep it that way.” Richie said, harshly shouldering past Bill. Once he’s gone, Stan leaves. Ben is next, then Eddie, then Mike.

“Mike-” Beverly begins.

“Guys...” Mike says guiltily. “...I can’t do this. My granddad was right, I’m an outsider. Gotta stay that way.” And then he’s gone. Only Bill and Beverly remain. The quiet is tense and awkward as Angel continues sobbing on her lawn, and neither of them seem sure of what to do. Angel is inconsolable, her chest heaving as she cries out in hysterics. She’s no better now than she was in the Neibolt house, when she’d screamed out in terror at the sight of Beverly impaling him through the eye with that rusty line of fence, when she’d had her heart shattered into a million pieces right there on the kitchen floor as she watched him bow out of the room. It’s all she can think about; the sight of him so overcome with pain that he was reduced to rage, like a dog lashing out to bite when hit. The sight of his eye gouged, his beautiful golden eye, torn asunder by the force of the metal being shoved through his head. And the blood, the blood dripping up the side of his head as he sobbed; it wrenched her heartstrings. She had wanted so badly to see him again, so badly that she might risk it all, might risk them all knowing what she had been up to this past year, might risk them hating her beyond all reason just to be with him again, just to feel him in her arms just one more time. It’s why she can’t stop herself from jerking away from the gentle efforts of Bill and Beverly to lift her up, can’t stop herself from glaring at them as she gets up, dusts herself off, opens up her front door, and slams it behind her.

She was worried sick for him. Once she had gone past the phase of being emotionally devoid as a result of her shock, she had somersaulted right back into her typically overemotional self. The second day back at work was a rollercoaster of emotion for her; all day long she kept replaying the events of that day back in her mind, thinking about all the ins and outs, analyzing the situation down to every last detail. One thing kept jutting out to her in her mind, and that was the way she’d seen Pennywise look at her just before Beverly struck him. She could see it in his eyes and on his face, a burning truth, something that she could plainly recognize. That was the look on his face he got when he was happy. He was happy to see her. After all that had happened between them, after the strange manner in which they parted ways, after his long absence, he still had that look on his face when he saw her. He missed her, just as she missed him. That kind of detail was very hard to ignore. As she took the front desk, as she catalogued returns, as she assisted patrons with their book selections she never stopped thinking about it, and despite all her dread and grief over the situation, the thought of it makes her heart swoon ever so slightly. It made her a little drunk with love to consider it, that he was so distracted by the mere sound of her voice that he stopped everything he was doing just to find her, to look at her again. There was yet a part of her that found it confusing all the same, though. If he had missed her so dearly, if he had risked grievous injury simply to steal a glance at her, why on earth had he left her in the first place? Why had he gone away?

She didn’t know the answer, but there was something she knew. There was a possibility he was still alive. Though they had certainly... Done a number on him, she knew that he was a strong, likely eternal creature, not to be bested by some mere piece of fence through the eye. Pennywise was mighty enough to survive hundreds upon hundreds of years by her estimation, based on what he’s told her, and she was sure that the Losers were likely not the first to take a stab at killing him. There were probably others in the past tormented by his existence, pushed into a willingness to act based on one unfortunate incident too many, and they must have tried to rid the town of him once and for all. Perhaps they were special, just like her and the children. Or perhaps they weren’t. But one thing was for sure; they had failed at whatever they set out to do, and predictably so, as Pennywise was a great and fearsome thing. It should make her sick to be the one paraded on the arm of a monster, but as the days went by and she was growing more numb to the realization of his true identity, she was starting to rationalize his actions more and more. There was some small part of her entrenched in the deepest, darkest dredges of her mind that found it attractive in him to be so dangerous, and that small part of her was growing more emboldened by the day as she considered his unwavering sweetness towards her and steadily came to the despicably selfish decision that that was all that mattered in the end. Not the lives of those lost to his hunger, or the perpetual cloud of dread descendent over the town’s collective heads, or the possible threat to the children, as awful as it all sounded. What she cared about was her, and him.

She wanted so badly to know that he was okay, it was nagging at her so insistently for days. She wondered if his whereabouts were in that of the house at 29 Neibolt Street or somewhere else entirely. She wondered if that well had something to do with his location. She’d heard it described by Bill as they returned from their unfortunate excursion, said that he’d seen him escape down it, down in the basement below the house, and that was where he’d finally lost him. She wondered if that well led someplace new, or if it were a place she’d somehow seen before. She’d thought that the Neibolt house was surely connected to his true location in a way; it simply made sense, given that they’d encountered him there, that she’d encountered him herself in that dream on New Year’s Eve. She wants to know if she can possibly track him down herself. Maybe that’s what she needed to do. Maybe she needed to find him on her own; maybe that was how they would reunite. Pennywise clearly wasn’t coming back to her for a reason, and she intended to find out that reason, wanted to know why he had spent so long leaving her in seclusion when he’d even said he didn’t intend to do such a thing.

“The dreams are over, pretty girl. Pennywise is here, and he won’t ever leave you alone again. Never.”

Why had he, then, chosen to do just that? It was something of a mystery to her, even if she had previously considered the reason why. She needed to know for sure. Though she dreads the answer, she wants to know whether or not he’s still alive and it’s enough to make her want to investigate. The trouble is, she’s not exactly sure where to start.

After some deliberation, she decided to start with returning to the Neibolt house on her own. Maybe it would be different if she was by herself. Things were always different with Pennywise when it came to her, she knew that for a fact. Though he might have seen fit to torment just about anyone else with his games and ferocious appetite, he would never do the same for her. No, with her he was positively gentlemanly. He doted on her, he was smitten with her, she could tell. She knew by now that their attraction was more than mutual, even if she had a hard time believing it at first. He liked her enough to leave her gifts, to lavish her in love and affection, and to offer her a shoulder to cry on in her lowest times. She was... She was his mate, she was supposed to be with him, he’d implied as much on their very first meeting. He’d reiterated several times that choice had nothing to do with it; she was simply made for him, and the two of them were meant to be together. Anyone else might have tried to run from such a thing, might have found it all questionable and dubious and utterly bizarre, but Angel was in love with the idea. She was a hopeless romantic at the end of the day, and she’d longed and wanted for years of something that would cherish her enough to stay with her forever. It was almost like a dream come true. She didn’t want that dream to end.

So she wouldn’t let it. She would investigate the matter thoroughly, and she would find out the answers to her questions if it killed her. She began with an agenda in mind, had decided to embark on a little quest some days after the incident, a quest that began as soon as her shift at the library was over. Once she had clocked out she made her way home, stopped in at her house to drop off her things, and then without deliberation she started on her journey over towards 29 Neibolt Street. The walk over was surprisingly pleasant; the weather was starting to wind down in the afternoon on an already temperate day, and she enjoyed a nice, consistent breeze as she strode down Witcham towards Route 2. All she had brought with her was Pepper, and she’d decided to wear her bell and sweater as a small show of faith (even donning her pearl heart earrings as a final touch), thinking that if she kept his precious gifts in her heart, he might feel her presence even from far away and be assured that she was coming, that she hadn’t forgotten him. These things made her feel secure, they made her feel safe in a world without his immediate presence, and she drank in the confidence gladly, knowing that she needed it if she was ever going to find him. She turns onto Route 2 and keeps going, intent on making it to her destination no matter what.

When she arrives she looks upon the house with a sense of wistfulness and melancholy. She remembers that dream, remembers how empty she had felt as she went about her day, how nothing could make her feel better, that she simply felt hopeless and downcast and incapable of any joy or delight. Until that warmth, until that familiar feeling swept over her, and carried her all the way to this dreary place on the outskirts of the town, how it had beckoned her inside with a simple chittering gust of wind and told her that this was the place she needed to be, right here, right now. And when she walks inside she doesn’t feel that warmth, she doesn’t feel that sensation sweeping over her like a wonderfully tepid fever, but nonetheless she keeps going anyway, knowing that she needed to stay strong if she was ever to find him. She needed not to lose hope or morale, even as she looked upon the distinctive decay of the house within and found that it was utterly devoid of his presence or aura. She was not afraid as she ducked under cobwebs and heard mice skittering around in the corners of the room, she did not shiver with fear as she heard the floors moaning under her feet. The house was dilapidated and unkempt but she saw a charm in it anyway, taking comfort in the fact that this was his place, this was his domain. He was a part of it, there was no denying that.

When she finds the basement, she descends the steps with purpose. She wonders what she might possibly find down there, if she might find anything at all, and what might happen if she did. She entertains the thought of a reunion, the thought of them finding each other again and rushing into each other’s arms. How she would sob with joy, with purest elation at the sight of him, and how he would take her into a comforting sweep of his arms and tell her everything would be alright. It’s a pretty picture, and perhaps it wouldn’t come to pass, but she liked to think of it nonetheless. It gave her step just a little more purpose, gave her more strength, and she needed that strength now more than ever. As she trudges down the flight of stairs she finds herself squinting in the darkness, but there’s light from a nearby window to aid in her investigation. It casts enough of a spotlight that she can make out the well in the black of the room, and she makes her way towards it slowly, tentatively. Pepper is clutched in one hand, her bell is jingling softly about her neck as she walks. And when she gets there she simply looks down into it for a time, contemplating, ruminating. Thinking.

So that’s where Pennywise might be, the bottom of this well. She wished she could see more. She wished she’d brought a flashlight, she wished she’d come more prepared in general, but to tell the truth this trip wasn’t very well planned out. To tell the truth, she’d simply gotten so restless the last few days, she just needed to come and see more for herself, discover what she’d missed the last time she was here. And... There was a part of her that simply expected for him to meet her there. She’d been looking for him as she walked through the house, she looked for any sign of him and thought that if maybe she tried hard enough she might just find him again. If the kids could encounter him so effortlessly, after all, just how hard could it be for her, a person he actually wanted to see? But try as she might, that simply turned out not to be the case, and she found herself just the slightest bit disheartened. What if he was actually dead? She doesn’t want to even consider it, but she needs to accept that it may just be the reality of the situation, that it might just unfortunately be the answer she was looking for. She stares down into the well with a sad look, stepping back to leave, but she’s suddenly struck with an idea. Looking into Pepper’s googly eyes, she’s filled with resolve. She paces back up the steps and out of the Neibolt house, but not before leaving her beloved doll behind at the base of the well.

She wastes no time when she walks back into her house. She strides in, she shuts the door, she walks brusquely over to her room and retrieves her purse. She promptly packs a few things, supplies that will surely come in handy should she need them, and replaces her Doc Martens with a pair of knee-high rain boots. She feeds Mayor Jello, gives him some quick affection, and sets out again. It’s evening now, and the sun is starting to set but that doesn’t deter her. She just walks. The journey back over seems to pass more swiftly than it ever has before; the passage of time simply meaning nothing now as she takes the path at a speedy march forward. In time her stride becomes a gait, and then almost a run as she fights to keep her breath, both out of exhaustion and excitement of a fashion. Making this trip not once but twice in one day should wipe her out completely but she’s too electrified by adrenaline to quit now; she simply keeps going. Witcham becomes Route 2 in no time at all, and once she happens upon Neibolt Street she looks upon the house once more with determination. Stepping back inside she’s greeted by more of the same, more dead silence and a concerning lack of warmth. Her bag slung over her torso, she walks through the parlor and coughs when she walks through a cloud of dust. The scent of stale must is ubiquitous, and it's pervasive now more than ever as she walks through the house. When she makes it to the basement she takes a deep breath and descends down the steps again, and when she makes it to the well, she’s met with a pleasant absence. It was just as she hoped. Pepper is gone.

She smiles, and immediately reaches into her bag. She pulls out a long and winding rope and knots it over the well, creating a cable with which to rappel down with. She admires her handiwork, and then considers her next logical step; scaling down the well, a task much easier said than done, especially with her weight. To tell the truth, this absolutely terrified her. Never in a million years would she have thought she would be doing a thing like this willingly, but then she remembers what she’s doing it for, and suddenly it all doesn’t seem so scary. This was for him. She was doing this for him. Taking a deep breath she grabs hold of the rope and climbs over the side, and then gingerly she lets go of the ledge with her leg. She immediately almost slips down the rope but she catches herself just in time, ignoring the burn as she holds herself steady with everything she’s got. She hoped to god the rope wouldn’t slip or break; the last thing she needed was to die or be grievously injured from a several hundred foot drop down a well, and she’s careful to keep her grip as she shimmies down the rope one inch at a time, taking her time, moving slowly so as not to upset her rig. She’s moved down a couple feet now, a couple excruciating feet, and she’s exhausted now but she keeps going, determined despite all her pain and fatigue. She keeps her eye on the wall for any potential pathways she can take, and just as she can no longer see the light from the window above she finds a hole in the wall she can slip through. She lowers herself enough that she can reach the hole with her legs, and then she swings into it and grabs hold. She climbs in.

The stench is immediate, and she knows to ignore it. These were the sewers, after all, and she couldn’t expect it to smell anything less than vile. She’s crawling on her hands and knees through the passageway until she finds herself in a room underground, a conduit to more tunnels with a staircase and a door. All she can think about is the reunion now that was surely to come; he was alive, she knew that now. How else would Pepper have gone missing from the well so quickly? It was a gift from her, and he’d accepted it, and now it was only a matter of time before they were back together. She smiles at the thought as she walks amid the grime, ignoring the puddles of grey water as they slosh about her rainboot-clad feet. She imagined all of his features, features burned so vividly into her mind that she could recall them all perfectly. His hair, his lips, his impossibly tall stature and that beautiful silken suit. His eyes... She loved his eyes most of all, they were so gorgeously bright like solar flares, and she so loved to look into them, even if it made her dizzy and disoriented and weak. In a way, that was what she loved so much about them, they had the power to make her feel things she had never felt before, a madness in her blood just fighting to break free, one that she couldn’t quell no matter how she tried. She thinks of it as she moves along through the tunnels, trying to find her way to a place she recognized in the back of her mind; the place from her thoughts, the place from her dreams, where she knew she would surely find him.

The tunnels are getting darker and more intricate, and she has her flashlight out through it all, using it as a guiding light. But she can’t stop herself from getting lost amongst it all, starting to forget where she’d gone and where she had come from. She tries to concentrate on the task at hand but finds she’s too excited to keep a clear head. She just wants to find him, she just wants to see him, it’s what she’s wanted in her head ever since he left her. She missed him so much, it was an ache unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and she wanted so desperately to alleviate it. It was like a piece of her was missing, and she wanted that missing piece back more than anything, so despite her confusion she keeps going. She wanted to run to him when she found him, she wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let him go again. She wanted to make sure he was okay, that he was safe; she wanted to protect him, take care of him and nurse him if need be. It was a part of her she couldn’t rightly control. It was a compulsion, an instinct, and it consumed her like a sickness. She’s getting all turned around now, and the flashlight is no help. She can hear the water rushing from a nearby cesspool and it starts to ring in her ears. The grey water is flooding around her feet and she’s so grateful she’s wearing boots. She trudges forward through the tunnels, continuing on her way even if she doesn’t particularly know where she was going. She believed that in the end of this, it would all be okay. She believed it would all resolve itself, that she would discover a way out of this labyrinth and make her way to her rightful destination. She believed that he was still alive, and she believed she was going to find him eventually. She believed.

And then she hears a voice in the distance, one she can’t mistake. She hears it, she knows it, it makes her heart pound restlessly in her chest. It’s faint, it’s paper-thin but she can still detect it echoing gently in the distance, calling to her, beckoning her towards it. And then, against all better judgment, she starts to run. The grey water is splashing around her heels now, she’s shining her flashlight at the path in front of her as she plods along quickly and frantically. She tries so hard to keep her composure but the truth is she’s so worked up, she’s too drunk with joy at the thought of seeing him again. It’s all she needs to keep going, to keep following his voice. As she scurries through the tunnels, making her way through various twists and turns she’s more delirious than ever but she’s sure-footed; she knows where she’s going now. It’s almost as though the voice is blazing a path in front of her, it’s almost as though she can feel his hands guiding her through the passageways, and she’s warm now despite the cold chill of the sewers. It’s the same warmth from all the times of before, the one that would reassure her in all the times of bad when she felt like she was all alone in the world, the one that made her feel safe and at ease when nothing else could, the one that let her know that he was coming. She rounds another corner and keeps going; she keeps going even as she’s running out of breath, and her feet are killing her, and her heartbeat is thumping in her ears. And then, just as the voice goes quiet, she finds it.

A great, big open space in the center of it all, dark and intimidating, stands there before her eyes. It’s so late now that the sky above offers no light to help her wandering gaze, and as she steps down into the cistern to assess and discern her surroundings she shines her light in the daunting black. So far she’s finding nothing but grey water beneath her feet, grey water and, strangely, the occasional stray object. Battered furniture, different articles of clothing, the odd children’s toy. She’s puzzled by it but she doesn’t think to question it right now; she simply continues in her silent investigation. She’s almost certain she can feel him, the warmth was simply too unmistakable, and the voice was fairly damning as well unless she simply imagined it. She walks along, hearing nothing but the grey water. And then she shines her light upward, she comes upon a mass in the center of the dwelling. A big mass, a huge mass. It reaches impossibly skyward from what she can tell, and to her utter amazement it appears to be a pile of more of the same from before, lost curios and things she can only assume he’s collected over time from his victims. That had to be the only explanation. She continues in her exploration, her flashlight travelling slowly upward until she finds the top of the heap, and from there her jaw practically drops open. There at the crown of it all is a most disturbing sight, and one she has to stop herself from being disgusted by. Countless bodies drift there in the air around the mound of lost trinkets, weightless to the air, unaffected by gravity.

(( “You’ll float with the rest of them” ))

She simply stares, unable to take her eyes off it, awestruck in truly the worst way. And then she hears something. She pauses, listening, tuning in to the noise, and she discerns it to be a growl of some kind coming from inside the mound. Her heart thundering in her chest, she cocks her head and shines the light on the source of it, only to find nothing. But she doesn’t stop. She circles around the pile with her flashlight, following the sound keenly as she moves through the grime. And then she finds it. A wagon of some kind, grand and tall stands buried underneath the mass of lost objects, and she can see his visage in the middle of it. “Pennywise the Dancing Clown,” it reads in an appropriately circus-esque lettering. Her heart stops. Ignoring her unease at the silence now present in the cistern, she quickly climbs up to the door and presses her ear against it.

“P-Pennywise?” She asks nervously, her voice echoing in the emptiness. She hears nothing, but that doesn’t deter her just yet. She knocks on the door. Still nothing.

She steps back, dismayed and silent. She considers the door for a time, her eyes trailing over it in thought, and she desperately wishes she knew how to open it. She can’t even begin to imagine the mechanics of how it works; she knows there’s a way for it to open, she just doesn’t know how. It frustrates her, but she tries not to let it get to her too much. She needed to remain calm. So she speaks to him.

“Pennywise, I... I’ve missed you so much.”

She almost feels like she’s talking to herself, but she can’t bring herself to stop nonetheless. She didn’t want to leave without some kind of answer from him. She hoped that the sound of her voice was enough to coax him out somehow, but given his lack of response so far she’s not exactly hopeful.

“I’ve been so lonely lately, I’ve been feeling so empty ever since you left and I... I can’t help it. I want you back.” Tears are starting to well in her eyes as she looks up at the picture of him on the wagon. “...I just want you back.”

She thinks about him then, about who he is, and how much it had disgusted her when she had first discovered it. But now, against all odds, after all this time, she simply didn’t care anymore. She loved him regardless of who he was.

She starts to pull weakly on the door to the wagon, hoping in vain that if maybe she believed it would open, if she tried hard enough it simply would, that it would fall ajar and she would finally find him, waiting for her there in its confines. She’s starting to pull harder now, she’s putting her everything into it, grunting and whining as she tugs on the wooden door but it simply won’t give. The tears are stinging her eyes more than ever but she doesn’t stop to wipe them away, she simply keeps pulling, and tugging, and jerking, and yanking on the door but no matter how hard she tries to jimmy it it won’t budge for her. No matter how much strength and will she exerts, the door is nothing but an obstacle keeping her from the one thing she so desperately wants more than anything and she gets upset, she cries out in frustration and kicks the door as hard as she can. The wood echoes hollowly in the darkness of the cistern. She stands there dejected, helpless and hopeless and ready to call it quits.

But then.

She can hear something metal start to shift from inside and she perks up. Looking at the door she can see it start to open towards her like a drawbridge, and she steps back to allow it room to fully expand outward. Speechless, she can see a dim orange light illuminating the inside of the wagon, and there towards the back...

Pennywise.

He’s still visibly disheveled, his hair is messy and unkempt, and the metal rod is still stuck in his head, but he’s there, alive and in the flesh all the same. She chokes on her relief, blinking back more tears as she looks upon him from the floor of the cistern. He’s crouched, almost like a wild animal in repose, and he’s nuzzling against Pepper. She wants to come towards him more than anything. She takes a step forward and the grey water splashes under her feet, and the sound alerts him fully to her presence. He looks up with a low growl and then he sees her, and his face softens. He drops the toy.

[kristopherscollins]

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

“Be kind when possible.” And maybe it’s always. ”

Once Oprah Winfrey asked the Dalai Lama: “Have you had to forgive yourself for something?” His Holiness replied: “To be honest, my attitude to mosquitoes was not very friendly and calm, as, in fact, to bedbugs.”

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

Lessons From Dalai Lama

Oprah was incredibly surprised that for the 78 years the Dalai Lama lived at that time, he did nothing else, which, in his opinion, would be forgiven. Forgiveness and compassion for all living beings have always been the two cornerstones of the teachings of the Dalai Lama. So let’s find out how his lessons can change our whole life, if only we let them do it.

1. Show more empathy.

“Compassion and compassion has nothing to do with religion as such. But it has the most direct relation to humanity. Moreover, without them, the survival of mankind would have been impossible. ”- The Dalai Lama

The results of many studies show that when you show sympathy for other people, you experience the same burst of energy and good mood as when you have sex, eat something tasty, or, say, relax in a hot bath. Simply put, empathy is good for your health. So show sympathy for your neighbor and get all the wonderful benefits: reducing stress, normalizing heart rate and improving immunity.

How to show empathy for another person? To do this, you just need to try to understand his feelings and emotions. Talk to him and try to understand what he has to go through. This is a much more demanding process for you than just showing kindness. If you want to show empathy, you cannot do without emotional involvement. By the way, at the same time, you can ask about what kind of help your interlocutor needs. You can apply this to:

Sick friend

Someone who has lost their job and really needs support

To a relative who does not know what to do with his life

To a friend who has just survived a painful breakup

The homeless

2. Be kind and help other people. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“My faith is very simple. She does not need temples or scripture. Our own mind, our heart, must become a temple, and kindness must become our scripture. Be kind when possible. And maybe it’s always, ”the Dalai Lama.

In fact, kindness and generosity cost you not so much, but thanks to them you can become much happier. This is the conclusion Michael Norton and his colleagues at the Harvard Business School came from after a rather curious scientific study.

As it turned out, volunteers who, having received a certain amount, donated part of it to those in need, were invariably happier than those who spent everything only on themselves.

3. Find your happiness.

“The meaning of our life is to be happy”

Dalai Lama

Sometimes our life becomes so hectic and messy that the only thing we want at the end of the next day is the opportunity to be at least a little happy.

When the Dalai Lama was asked about happiness, he replied that modern society is literally overwhelming us with messages about material wealth. And that we see very few messages about forgiveness, sympathy, patience, goodwill and kindness.

But in order to be truly happy, you must devote more time to these values, and not to the accumulation of material wealth.

“No one is able to give us happiness ready — it always stems from our own actions”

Dalai Lama

4. Find peace in the depths of your own soul. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

The Dalai Lama advises every day to spend at least a little time alone with themselves. Spend this time thinking about your own life and the fact that you don’t need negative thoughts like anger, contempt, hatred and envy. Try to replace them with positive emotions such as optimism, gratitude, love, and calm.

The Dalai Lama believes that only a truly calm and peaceful mind can become a source of happiness and good health, and in this he is absolutely right.

5. Do no harm to other people.

“If you can help others, do it, if you cannot, then at least do not harm them”

Dalai Lama

If you suddenly begin to “feed” other people with outright lies, spread vile rumors about them, achieve the desired threats and take advantage of the unfair advantage over them, then the negative “return” from all this will sooner or later poison your life, depriving any hope of happiness.

These are just a few actions that can harm others, but try to avoid both them and all of their ilk.

6. Take care of your friendships.

Friendship is the most wonderful thing that can happen to you. Take care of your friends and never offend them – and in return they will generously endow you with trust and affection. True friendship never depends on your position in society or how much money you have.

It is a pity that many people neglect friends so much that as a result, loneliness begins to rule their life. Not surprisingly, all this leads to depression.

7. Do not let modern technology manage your life.

Did you know that the Dalai Lama has over 8 million followers on Twitter? And although he welcomes the ease with which social networks allow us to communicate with each other, he also warns against the excessive use of modern technologies, citing the following arguments:

Sometimes they penetrate our lives so much that they begin to control it – look at least at the couples in restaurants that spend all their time burying themselves on the screens of their phones.

If you cannot even spend a day without your phone, who is in charge of your pair – you or he?

Even if you have a lot of virtual friends, they will not necessarily be able to replace true friendship.

Virtual communication very rarely helps you show empathy for others.

If you spend almost all your time communicating online, you will have much less time communicating in reality.

“Technology is our brainchild, and we must control it. If we become slaves of technology, this in no way will benefit us”

Dalai Lama

8. Do not quarrel or argue – it is better to negotiate.

“The path of non-violence means the path of communication and dialogue, which are conducted in words, not fists. Dialogues mean compromise and respect for each other’s rights: only communication and reconciliation can reliably save us from conflicts and disappointments. When both sides meet each other, in the end, there are neither 100% winners nor losers. This is the wisest way to resolve conflicts. The only sure way. ”- The Dalai Lama

No matter what kind of conflict you have to deal with, be it an international crisis or a quarrel with your partner or boss, dialogue is always the key to the most peaceful and calm outcome. Only in this way can you learn the art of compromise and negotiation.

His Holiness advises during the dialogue to recall the past as little as possible, instead focusing on what caused the current problem.

9. Be kind to the earth. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

If we want the human race to survive, it is important to take care of this planet as well as we can. Give garbage for recycling, look at alternative ways to get energy and find out exactly how you can help save nature so that it does not want to recoup on humanity as a whole.

10. Learn from your mistakes. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“If you lost, but learned a valuable lesson, then you won”

Dalai Lama

When you make a mistake, take a look at what happened with a sober look, and try to understand what went wrong and when. Perhaps you said something wrong or did not think enough of your actions.

Perhaps a mistake has crept into your project at the design stage, and maybe you did not take into account force majeure situations. Even if you encounter a catastrophe and are forced to collect life in pieces after it, you can still extract something useful from it.

The post 10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life appeared first on ToLoveForward.

from https://toloveforward.com/10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life

from TOLOVEFORWARD - Blog https://toloveforward.weebly.com/blog/10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life

[jessicafwatkins]

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

“Be kind when possible.” And maybe it’s always. ”

Once Oprah Winfrey asked the Dalai Lama: “Have you had to forgive yourself for something?” His Holiness replied: “To be honest, my attitude to mosquitoes was not very friendly and calm, as, in fact, to bedbugs.”

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

Lessons From Dalai Lama

Oprah was incredibly surprised that for the 78 years the Dalai Lama lived at that time, he did nothing else, which, in his opinion, would be forgiven. Forgiveness and compassion for all living beings have always been the two cornerstones of the teachings of the Dalai Lama. So let’s find out how his lessons can change our whole life, if only we let them do it.

1. Show more empathy.

“Compassion and compassion has nothing to do with religion as such. But it has the most direct relation to humanity. Moreover, without them, the survival of mankind would have been impossible. ”- The Dalai Lama

The results of many studies show that when you show sympathy for other people, you experience the same burst of energy and good mood as when you have sex, eat something tasty, or, say, relax in a hot bath. Simply put, empathy is good for your health. So show sympathy for your neighbor and get all the wonderful benefits: reducing stress, normalizing heart rate and improving immunity.

How to show empathy for another person? To do this, you just need to try to understand his feelings and emotions. Talk to him and try to understand what he has to go through. This is a much more demanding process for you than just showing kindness. If you want to show empathy, you cannot do without emotional involvement. By the way, at the same time, you can ask about what kind of help your interlocutor needs. You can apply this to:

Sick friend

Someone who has lost their job and really needs support

To a relative who does not know what to do with his life

To a friend who has just survived a painful breakup

The homeless

2. Be kind and help other people. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“My faith is very simple. She does not need temples or scripture. Our own mind, our heart, must become a temple, and kindness must become our scripture. Be kind when possible. And maybe it’s always, ”the Dalai Lama.

In fact, kindness and generosity cost you not so much, but thanks to them you can become much happier. This is the conclusion Michael Norton and his colleagues at the Harvard Business School came from after a rather curious scientific study.

As it turned out, volunteers who, having received a certain amount, donated part of it to those in need, were invariably happier than those who spent everything only on themselves.

3. Find your happiness.

“The meaning of our life is to be happy”

Dalai Lama

Sometimes our life becomes so hectic and messy that the only thing we want at the end of the next day is the opportunity to be at least a little happy.

When the Dalai Lama was asked about happiness, he replied that modern society is literally overwhelming us with messages about material wealth. And that we see very few messages about forgiveness, sympathy, patience, goodwill and kindness.

But in order to be truly happy, you must devote more time to these values, and not to the accumulation of material wealth.

“No one is able to give us happiness ready — it always stems from our own actions”

Dalai Lama

4. Find peace in the depths of your own soul. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

The Dalai Lama advises every day to spend at least a little time alone with themselves. Spend this time thinking about your own life and the fact that you don’t need negative thoughts like anger, contempt, hatred and envy. Try to replace them with positive emotions such as optimism, gratitude, love, and calm.

The Dalai Lama believes that only a truly calm and peaceful mind can become a source of happiness and good health, and in this he is absolutely right.

5. Do no harm to other people.

“If you can help others, do it, if you cannot, then at least do not harm them”

Dalai Lama

If you suddenly begin to “feed” other people with outright lies, spread vile rumors about them, achieve the desired threats and take advantage of the unfair advantage over them, then the negative “return” from all this will sooner or later poison your life, depriving any hope of happiness.

These are just a few actions that can harm others, but try to avoid both them and all of their ilk.

6. Take care of your friendships.

Friendship is the most wonderful thing that can happen to you. Take care of your friends and never offend them – and in return they will generously endow you with trust and affection. True friendship never depends on your position in society or how much money you have.

It is a pity that many people neglect friends so much that as a result, loneliness begins to rule their life. Not surprisingly, all this leads to depression.

7. Do not let modern technology manage your life.

Did you know that the Dalai Lama has over 8 million followers on Twitter? And although he welcomes the ease with which social networks allow us to communicate with each other, he also warns against the excessive use of modern technologies, citing the following arguments:

Sometimes they penetrate our lives so much that they begin to control it – look at least at the couples in restaurants that spend all their time burying themselves on the screens of their phones.

If you cannot even spend a day without your phone, who is in charge of your pair – you or he?

Even if you have a lot of virtual friends, they will not necessarily be able to replace true friendship.

Virtual communication very rarely helps you show empathy for others.

If you spend almost all your time communicating online, you will have much less time communicating in reality.

“Technology is our brainchild, and we must control it. If we become slaves of technology, this in no way will benefit us”

Dalai Lama

8. Do not quarrel or argue – it is better to negotiate.

“The path of non-violence means the path of communication and dialogue, which are conducted in words, not fists. Dialogues mean compromise and respect for each other’s rights: only communication and reconciliation can reliably save us from conflicts and disappointments. When both sides meet each other, in the end, there are neither 100% winners nor losers. This is the wisest way to resolve conflicts. The only sure way. ”- The Dalai Lama

No matter what kind of conflict you have to deal with, be it an international crisis or a quarrel with your partner or boss, dialogue is always the key to the most peaceful and calm outcome. Only in this way can you learn the art of compromise and negotiation.

His Holiness advises during the dialogue to recall the past as little as possible, instead focusing on what caused the current problem.

9. Be kind to the earth. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

If we want the human race to survive, it is important to take care of this planet as well as we can. Give garbage for recycling, look at alternative ways to get energy and find out exactly how you can help save nature so that it does not want to recoup on humanity as a whole.

10. Learn from your mistakes. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“If you lost, but learned a valuable lesson, then you won”

Dalai Lama

When you make a mistake, take a look at what happened with a sober look, and try to understand what went wrong and when. Perhaps you said something wrong or did not think enough of your actions.

Perhaps a mistake has crept into your project at the design stage, and maybe you did not take into account force majeure situations. Even if you encounter a catastrophe and are forced to collect life in pieces after it, you can still extract something useful from it.

The post 10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life appeared first on ToLoveForward.

from ToLoveForward https://toloveforward.com/10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life from TOLOVEFORWARD https://toloveforward.tumblr.com/post/622365096474263552

[toloveforward]

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

“Be kind when possible.” And maybe it’s always. ”

Once Oprah Winfrey asked the Dalai Lama: “Have you had to forgive yourself for something?” His Holiness replied: “To be honest, my attitude to mosquitoes was not very friendly and calm, as, in fact, to bedbugs.”

10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life

Lessons From Dalai Lama

Oprah was incredibly surprised that for the 78 years the Dalai Lama lived at that time, he did nothing else, which, in his opinion, would be forgiven. Forgiveness and compassion for all living beings have always been the two cornerstones of the teachings of the Dalai Lama. So let’s find out how his lessons can change our whole life, if only we let them do it.

1. Show more empathy.

“Compassion and compassion has nothing to do with religion as such. But it has the most direct relation to humanity. Moreover, without them, the survival of mankind would have been impossible. ”- The Dalai Lama

The results of many studies show that when you show sympathy for other people, you experience the same burst of energy and good mood as when you have sex, eat something tasty, or, say, relax in a hot bath. Simply put, empathy is good for your health. So show sympathy for your neighbor and get all the wonderful benefits: reducing stress, normalizing heart rate and improving immunity.

How to show empathy for another person? To do this, you just need to try to understand his feelings and emotions. Talk to him and try to understand what he has to go through. This is a much more demanding process for you than just showing kindness. If you want to show empathy, you cannot do without emotional involvement. By the way, at the same time, you can ask about what kind of help your interlocutor needs. You can apply this to:

Sick friend

Someone who has lost their job and really needs support

To a relative who does not know what to do with his life

To a friend who has just survived a painful breakup

The homeless

2. Be kind and help other people. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“My faith is very simple. She does not need temples or scripture. Our own mind, our heart, must become a temple, and kindness must become our scripture. Be kind when possible. And maybe it’s always, ”the Dalai Lama.

In fact, kindness and generosity cost you not so much, but thanks to them you can become much happier. This is the conclusion Michael Norton and his colleagues at the Harvard Business School came from after a rather curious scientific study.

As it turned out, volunteers who, having received a certain amount, donated part of it to those in need, were invariably happier than those who spent everything only on themselves.

3. Find your happiness.

“The meaning of our life is to be happy”

Dalai Lama

Sometimes our life becomes so hectic and messy that the only thing we want at the end of the next day is the opportunity to be at least a little happy.

When the Dalai Lama was asked about happiness, he replied that modern society is literally overwhelming us with messages about material wealth. And that we see very few messages about forgiveness, sympathy, patience, goodwill and kindness.

But in order to be truly happy, you must devote more time to these values, and not to the accumulation of material wealth.

“No one is able to give us happiness ready — it always stems from our own actions”

Dalai Lama

4. Find peace in the depths of your own soul. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

The Dalai Lama advises every day to spend at least a little time alone with themselves. Spend this time thinking about your own life and the fact that you don’t need negative thoughts like anger, contempt, hatred and envy. Try to replace them with positive emotions such as optimism, gratitude, love, and calm.

The Dalai Lama believes that only a truly calm and peaceful mind can become a source of happiness and good health, and in this he is absolutely right.

5. Do no harm to other people.

“If you can help others, do it, if you cannot, then at least do not harm them”

Dalai Lama

If you suddenly begin to “feed” other people with outright lies, spread vile rumors about them, achieve the desired threats and take advantage of the unfair advantage over them, then the negative “return” from all this will sooner or later poison your life, depriving any hope of happiness.

These are just a few actions that can harm others, but try to avoid both them and all of their ilk.

6. Take care of your friendships.

Friendship is the most wonderful thing that can happen to you. Take care of your friends and never offend them – and in return they will generously endow you with trust and affection. True friendship never depends on your position in society or how much money you have.

It is a pity that many people neglect friends so much that as a result, loneliness begins to rule their life. Not surprisingly, all this leads to depression.

7. Do not let modern technology manage your life.

Did you know that the Dalai Lama has over 8 million followers on Twitter? And although he welcomes the ease with which social networks allow us to communicate with each other, he also warns against the excessive use of modern technologies, citing the following arguments:

Sometimes they penetrate our lives so much that they begin to control it – look at least at the couples in restaurants that spend all their time burying themselves on the screens of their phones.

If you cannot even spend a day without your phone, who is in charge of your pair – you or he?

Even if you have a lot of virtual friends, they will not necessarily be able to replace true friendship.

Virtual communication very rarely helps you show empathy for others.

If you spend almost all your time communicating online, you will have much less time communicating in reality.

“Technology is our brainchild, and we must control it. If we become slaves of technology, this in no way will benefit us”

Dalai Lama

8. Do not quarrel or argue – it is better to negotiate.

“The path of non-violence means the path of communication and dialogue, which are conducted in words, not fists. Dialogues mean compromise and respect for each other’s rights: only communication and reconciliation can reliably save us from conflicts and disappointments. When both sides meet each other, in the end, there are neither 100% winners nor losers. This is the wisest way to resolve conflicts. The only sure way. ”- The Dalai Lama

No matter what kind of conflict you have to deal with, be it an international crisis or a quarrel with your partner or boss, dialogue is always the key to the most peaceful and calm outcome. Only in this way can you learn the art of compromise and negotiation.

His Holiness advises during the dialogue to recall the past as little as possible, instead focusing on what caused the current problem.

9. Be kind to the earth. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

If we want the human race to survive, it is important to take care of this planet as well as we can. Give garbage for recycling, look at alternative ways to get energy and find out exactly how you can help save nature so that it does not want to recoup on humanity as a whole.

10. Learn from your mistakes. – Lessons From Dalai Lama

“If you lost, but learned a valuable lesson, then you won”

Dalai Lama

When you make a mistake, take a look at what happened with a sober look, and try to understand what went wrong and when. Perhaps you said something wrong or did not think enough of your actions.

Perhaps a mistake has crept into your project at the design stage, and maybe you did not take into account force majeure situations. Even if you encounter a catastrophe and are forced to collect life in pieces after it, you can still extract something useful from it.

The post 10 Lessons From Dalai Lama That Will Change Your Life appeared first on ToLoveForward.

from ToLoveForward https://toloveforward.com/10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=10-lessons-from-dalai-lama-that-will-change-your-life

[hotmessharry]

67 & 152 for the writing prompts!

Writing prompt 67: “Stop being so cute”

“Stop, Harry stop!” you cried, wriggling in his grasp as hisslender fingers danced along your sides, his throaty chuckle rumbling in yourears as he kept you firmly clutched to his chest.

“Harry!” you squealed as he pinched your hips but ceased histickling with a throaty laugh.

“Sorry baby, but the faces you pull when I tickle you are sofunny” he laughed, gaining him a firm elbow in the stomach and a groan fromyou.

“I hate you. Now get off, I need to go an revise for my exam”you said, slipping from his protective hold and rising from the couch, pullingdown your t-shirt and readjusting your jogging bottoms which had become twistedfrom his assault.

“Do you really hate me?” he asked, lower lip jutting out ina sad pout while gazing up at you from where he sat, long legs stretched outover the couch, still parted from where your body had been slotted neatlybetween them.

“Yes,” you said with a cheeky smile, bending down to capturehis pouty lower lip in a quick kiss before standing tall and making your way upstairsand to the small office room tucked away at the end of the hall. Books andpapers were spread everywhere, strewn across the floor, piled in stacks in thecorner and from the desk the screen of your computer still glowed in the dimlylit room.

Sighing you locked the door behind you, a habit you hadpicked up from when you were young in an effort to keep your family frombreaking your train of thought and plopped yourself back down in the swivelchair. Academia had never been one of your strong suits, you had to work muchharder than everyone else to achieve the same, if not slightly worse, gradesbut you were also one of those people who could never just resign themselves todefeat, you had to work.

It was at least an hour before shuffling outside the doordrew your attention away from the PowerPoint slide you were making notes from,the unmistakable sound of a piece of paper being slipped beneath the doorcausing you to turn and frown at the small note which was peeking out frombeneath the doorframe. You rose and shuffled across the room, picking up thepaper and unfolding it.

Please don’t hate me. Ilove you xx

You grinned and tucked the paper away safely in your pocketbefore returning to work, scrawling out notes that you hoped desperately wouldsink in to your brain somehow.

30 minutes later another sheet of paper was slipped beneaththe door. You rolled your eyes but went to snatch it off of the ground.

You’re so clever baby,I’ll know you’ll ace this exam. I love you xx

Again a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips, anaction that seemed almost instinctive when Harry was around. He made you smileand laugh like no one else could, and you craved the joy he brought you morethan you cared to admit.

30 minutes later another note slipped beneath the door.

I love you, I loveyou, I looooove you xx

The smile that erupted on your face hurt your cheeks, alight pink tinge beginning to creep onto your cheeks. There was nothing for it,sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the door you waited patiently forthe next note, reaching up to silently unlock the door in the process. Sure enough,as regular a clockwork, a fourth note slipped beneath the door exactly 30minutes later. You didn’t even take the time to read it before leaping up andripping open the door. Harry stumbled back in shock but was quick to recoverand opened his arm wide to catch you as you leapt at him.

With your head buried in his neck and arms wrapped firmlyaround his shoulders, you let your body melt in to his, feeling the warmth ofhis skin, the tickle of his breath against your shoulder and the beating of hisheart beneath your chest, you had never felt more in love.

“Stop being so cute” you whispered against his skin. Hechuckled and squeezed his arms around your waist.

“Just didn’t want you to hate me” he said softly. You sighedand pulled back so that you had a clear view of his flawless face.

“Harry Styles I love you more than I’ll ever be able toexplain” you sad honestly, your heart swelling at the grin that erupted on hisface.

“I love you so much” he beamed, leaning down to press a softkiss to your lips.

Writing Prompt: “Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night”

It was late, the sun had set long ago, but still you laywide awake in bed, gazing at the ceiling and trying with all your might to getsome sleep. The nights had been long since you had broken up with yourboyfriend and while during the day you could find things to distract yourselffrom thinking of him, the nights posed a whole new challenge. It was made moredifficult by the fact that Harry was on the other side of the world, touringwith his new album and only being able to offer occasional messaged of support.

Battling the time difference was more difficult than youwould have thought. At times when you reached for your phone to call him andcry, you had to factor in the fact that it was probably midnight with him. And yousecretly knew he didn’t want to hear it anyway. Harry had always warned youagainst him, told you that he was no good but you didn’t listen, and you hatedadmitting you were wrong.

From across the room your phone buzzed and the sudden light madeyou squint as you shuffled across the room to grab it. It took a couple of momentsfor your eyes to adjust to the brightness of the screen but when you saw Harry’sname flashing across the screen you grinned slightly. Tucking yourself back into bed and switching on the bedside light, you opened the text.

From Harry: How you doing pumpkin? X

It read. You sighed and began a long, explanatory text abouthow you had walked past a pizza shop today and saw you ex’s favourite pizza advertisedin the window and burst in to tears in the middle of the street. You feltpathetic even as you typed it out, but you told Harry everything, no matter howridiculous.

He replied in seconds;

From Harry: Wasn’t expecting you to be awake sweet, whattime is it with you? x

To Harry: 3am, I can’t sleep x

From Harry: I’d call but I’m at the venue and I reallyshould be paying attention to what this guy is telling me x

He sent. You sighed, having secretly hoped that tonightmight be the night that Harry would be able to talk to you properly, but lifewas rarely that fair.

To Harry: ok :( x

You replied with a frown settling on your lips.

From Harry: I’m sorry love, but I’ll try and cheer you upover text, ok? X

Following your agreement Harry proceeded to send you aseries of horrendous jokes, pictures and memes, anything he could find reallythat he thought might be able to cheer you up. Your generally reply was an eyeroll followed by sending him the word ‘next’. But Harry never lost enthusiasm,and even after you admitted that his endless stream of jokes had indeed madeyou feel better, he continued, finally sending a link to an article on Facebookentitled ’25 pictures that sum up your sex life’. You’d had enough.

To Harry: omg stop sending me such weird stuff you loser!You have cheered me up now and I’m sleep! X

From Harry: hahaha ok princess! Glad I could help! I’ll makesure to set aside some time tomorrow and I’ll give you a call so we can talkproperly, ok? X

To Harry: yes please! Miss you x

From Harry: miss you too, now sleep x

You could barely finish reading the text before your eyesdrifted shut and the phone slipped from your hand.  

Thank you to my beautiful name twin @harrysmeadow for sending me these prompts! If you would like to send me one then choose a number off this list!

(credit to @rfaimagining for creating these prompts!)

[slytherindragonfly]

Bewitching - Draco x Reader

Summary: Convinced by Narcissa earlier during the day, you attend a soirée at the Malfoy’s, where something weighs heavy on your conscience as you feel yourself losing control under Draco’s gaze.

Word count: ~2.6k 

You were hurrying down the hallway, clutching a file full of papers that would go flying should you let them slip out of your grip. You were stressed out, as you’d felt a change in the atmosphere at work over the past months. You had to prove your value, or you’d get rid of.

During the war, the Ministry had seized control of the operations at Gringotts. Since your parents had forbidden you from attending your 7th year at Hogwarts, not willing to risk your life, you’d applied for a job at the bank; making sure you wouldn’t stay idle for the year.

Now that the war was over, and that it had been exposed that He had been controlling the Ministry then, control of Gringotts had been surrendered back to the goblins, on the condition that they kept the wizard employees that had earned a position inside during the war. 

The goblins weren’t too happy with their institution being taken over, and now that it had been months since they’d won back control, tensions were high. They were extremely scrupulous, and should one task be ill-performed, any wizard was sure to be pointed towards the door. Not that you particularly blamed the goblins for reacting that way. You believed if you could outlast their disgruntled period, you could have a future at the bank, and without a complete education, you wouldn’t let it go without a fight.

So there you were, rushing to deliver some important documents from an office to another when you made eye contact with a woman you’d last seen nearly a week before then. She was talking with a goblin, who seemed to be showing her the way out from the vaults, but you knew she recognized you from the knowing smile that she gave you. Observing decorum, you halted to salute her.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what a lovely surprise seeing you here today,” you greeted her with a polite smile, still holding on to your papers.

“Y/N, I didn’t know you worked here,” she observed, amused, as she looked at the golden name plate pinned to your shirt. “Quite a fine young lady to have in your ranks,” she told the goblin approvingly with a smile like she was miles ahead of the conversation.

“Yes, quite,” replied the goblin with a professional smile, despite the fact you knew for a fact he was high-ranking enough to have never heard of you.

“Say dear,” she added, still looking at who you were pretty sure was Mr. Griphook, “do you think it would be possible for miss Y/L/N to escort me to the exit? I am quite sure you have more pressing matters to attend to, and I would like to speak a few words with her,” Narcissa asked, her tone a perfect blend of pleading and persuasive.

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Malfoy,” he replied with a crisp smile, before nodding in your direction, a silent command to do whatever she would tell you. “I shall bid you a good day,” he said, before walking away.

You knew that because of the war, the Malfoys had lost some of their... prestige. As far as you could tell, the goblin hated her. But then again, despite being arguably disgraced, the Malfoys were still very much rich. And in a place like Gringotts, greed often overruled ideology.

“Thank you for your kind words,” you thanked her, appreciative.

“No need thanking me dear,” she waved it off. “It was very much deserved. Now, I believe that the last time we saw each other was at Greengrass manor last week, wasn’t it?” she asked as the two of you started walking. 

“Yes, that does sound right,” you nodded. “A lovely evening,” you commented as if you were reciting lines.

“Quite,” she agreed with a pleased smile. “Draco seemed to think so too, from the way he mentioned you the day afterwards,” she added, glancing at you, amused.

“Oh, did he?” you couldn’t help but blush. “I’m glad to hear he enjoyed himself,” you added, hoping to go back to small talk.

“You are such a lovely thing, I’m glad your family moved closer to the city,” she laughed, amused. “Your parents are always a delight, I’m looking forward to seeing them tonight. I’m hoping you will join us as well?” she added expertly.

“I’m afraid I will be working late tonight, I wouldn’t want to arrive late and disturb the evening,” you explained, contrite. 

Really, you were exhausted and didn’t feel like going to a social event, but she didn’t have to know that side of the story, as what you told her was true as well.

“Nonsense, you must come!” she dismissed, slightly indignant. “I admire that you’re a busy woman, but that’s no reason to shut yourself in! After all, you must wear your dresses out somewhere,” she commented, using the same tone she did to convince Mr. Griphook to let you walk her out.

“I don’t know...” you hesitated, not wanting to be rude.

“Now, now, you’ve lived on the border of society long enough because you lived so far away, it’s time to join us dear,” she insisted, insinuating she knew what was best for you. “It’s such a shame to bury pearls in the country,” she sighed.

You pondered the idea of going for a few seconds. Your mother would be awfully happy with you if you did go, that you knew. Perhaps this was one of those things where you would gain most by not arguing further.

“Fine, I’ll try to make it,” you gave in, forcing yourself to smile. 

“I’m certain you won’t regret it,” she approved, satisfied. “Now, I’m confident I can find my way out from here, thank you for walking with me,” she declared the conversation over.

“My pleasure,” you replied. 

“See you tonight dear,” she bid you goodbye with a smile worthy of theatre as it made it almost impossible to believe it belonged to such a manipulative woman.

And with that she walked off, leaving you with an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know where you stood in regard to the Malfoy family. You couldn’t ignore the atrocities committed during the war. But your parents, who had known them their whole life, had thoroughly explained to you how they’d had no choice in participating, really. 

Your family itself had come out of the war branded as cowards. Your parents had refused to align themselves with any side, clinging to their neutrality by shutting your family off in your old manor in the country, far away from everything and everyone. While you’d lost more than those who’d picked the right side, you’d lost less than what the losers had.

There was no denying that the pureblood families of England had come out of the war damaged, and there was something quite ridiculous about the way they clung to their broken ways, all of them looking like they had no idea how to do things any other way. Those were confusing times.

“You told her what?!” Draco exclaimed, stepping away from his mother, causing her to almost strangle her with the tie she was tying for him. 

“You should see how she blushes, the pretty thing,” Narcissa eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Don’t call her a pretty thing, mother,” Draco rolled his eyes. “You know she’s more than that.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, slightly surprised. She was not one for miscalculations, but yet...

“You really are quite taken with her, aren’t you?” she asked, serious this time.

“No offense, but I don’t like discussing those things with you,” he evaded, heading towards a mirror to rearrange his hair.

“Fine,” she conceded, knowing her son needed to feel like he had control over his life these days in particular. “I just thought you’d like to know I talked her into making an appearance later.”

“I do not need you playing matchmaker for me, mother,” he replied, tense and a tinge of nervousness having found its way into his tone.

“Well then, let the record show that I invited her for my own selfish reasons; I think she will be a delightful guest,” his mother told him.

He looked at her like he was hardly convinced, but she knew he somehow appreciated her words. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish getting ready myself,” she told him before exiting the room. “Just... keep in mind she did mention she might arrive late.”

Draco spent what felt like a major part of the night waiting at an inconspicuous distance from the door. He wanted to know when you’d arrive, but not be close enough that it was blatant he was waiting for you to get there.

However, at some point, he did start becoming quite hungry, and left for the kitchen to grab something to eat before his stomach started drawing attention to him through growls.

Much to his dismay, when he came back, his eyes immediately found you talking to his mother and yours in the living room. Before he could decide on what approach to take, his mother saw him coming back and called him over to join the conversation.

As he walked up, you turned around to face him, all smiles and glittering eyes. In that sliver of a moment, you looked truly bewitching, and he had to hold himself down not to appear affected. 

“Hi, Draco,” you greeted him, warm and demure. 

“Hi,” he spoke with a polite smile, nodding.

Narcissa could have rolled her eyes, but of course decided against it.

“Draco, I was just telling Y/N about the new changes in the gardens; perhaps you could show her around?” she asked her son, eyes mischievous but voice perfectly on the tone of conversation. 

“That would be great! I bet these rose bushes look lovely” you added, waiting for Draco’s response. 

“Follow me then,” he lead you astray from the group, but not before one last glance at his mother, letting her know not to interfere anymore.

It was a perfectly pleasant night, and you didn’t need any coat as the two of you stepped outside. The garden was a quiet display of obscene wealth; the kind of understated that could only be achieved with the necessary amount of resources.

There was something about the way the moonlight shone on the stone and vegetation that instilled an element of fear in you, somehow. You were walking ahead of Draco, and you could practically feel his gaze on the back of your neck. You had to be wary; you couldn’t let your vanity enjoy his attention.

“If you want to see the roses, we have to walk some more,” he told you, catching up.

“Alright then, lead the way,” you answered in a voice quieter than you’d hoped for; loading your words with a hidden meaning you hoped he wouldn’t pick up on.

“Haven’t seen you since the other night at Greengrass Manor,” he started, making small talk as you walked side by side, slowly as if not to rush there.

“I think Astoria was quite taken with you, if you don’t mind me saying so,” you teased him, glancing his way. 

“Right,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Astoria.”

“I’m just saying, she’s a beautiful girl. A bit frail, perhaps, but not any less lovely,” you kept on teasing, trying to see if he would take the bait. 

He stopped walking and grabbed your hands, making you halt too. His grasp wasn’t tight, and yet it felt as if he were holding on to a rope about to sever itself.

“How can you talk to me about Astoria Greengrass when you’re the only one I’ve thought about since that night,” he accused in a burst of passion very unlike him. 

“Draco,” you responded, half exclamation, half question. 

He didn’t reply, simply gazing into your eyes; yours frightened, his confident yet tender. From what you knew about him, he wasn’t going to verbalize his feelings any further; it was your turn to pick up on all the words hidden in his eyes. But you desperately didn’t want to; you knew it was too dangerous.

“Draco I-” you started, looking away, before he cut you off.

“Don’t lower your eyes, Y/n,” he whispered, making you look back up. “Not now,”

“I don’t understand,” you tried escaping it, though your eyes were transfixed on him.

The combination of the atmosphere in the gardens and the growing anxiety in the pit of your stomach at the fact you weren’t able to say what you needed to say before it all went too far were so frightening they made you dizzy, disoriented. Like you didn’t even know good from bad anymore.

Slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, he let go of your hands to place one on your bare arm and the other on your cheek. Bringing your face closer to his, his eyes so close to yours you could see nothing else.

“Can I ever?” he murmured, the half-formed sentence a question you knew neither the meaning or the answer to. 

And then what was an eternity in the making finally came to be; he pressed his lips against yours, your eyes shutting painfully tight as you felt all your self-control snap at the seams. The kiss was gentle and yet your lips burned against each other’s as he pressed your arm, once again holding on to you. 

A moment of clarity forced you to break the kiss, your lungs on fire as you gaped for air. It wasn’t that you’d kissed him long enough to lack air; it was the guilt, like poison, that made it hard for you to breathe. 

“What just happened...I can’t,” you said between to breaths, not daring to look him in the eyes, but he didn’t even hear you.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve managed to enchant me, Y/N,” he started, apparently confused too. “It’s like I can’t even do anything about it, whenever I even hear your name, you’re on my mind for days!” he went on, frustrated and relieved at the same time.

“Don’t say such things,” you bit your lip, still not looking at him.

“Why not?” he asked, confused.

“I am betrothed,” you admitted, so quietly you hoped perhaps he wouldn’t have heard.

“What?” he asked, even more confused. “That doesn’t make any sense, you don’t even have a ring on your finger!” he argued, growing upset.

“It’s... a complicated arrangement,” you evaded. “I’m sorry, Draco, I knew I shouldn’t have come,” you apologized, filled with dread you’d lead him on like that.

“Then break it off!” he exclaimed. “I'll love you, I’ll do anything for you,” he attempted, pacing, desperately trying to make eye contact with you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” you dismissed him, shaking your head sideways as daggers stabbed your heart. “I should leave,” you realized, starting to walk away.

“No, don’t go yet!” he called after you, reaching out.

“I’ll see you around, Draco,” you concluded, before heading off.

He stayed behind, unsure what had just happened. He might not have believed he’d just kissed you were his lips not still tingling. He hadn’t even thought he liked you enough to go on saying what he had. He knew he had a lot to figure out; after enough time had passed, he went back inside and avoided the other guests to start working on the letter he’d send your way this very night.

[anhed-nia]

5/6/17: COLOSSAL, aka GODZILLA VS THE SHINING

I have a lot of dreams about killing people. There is no consistency among the victims; sometimes they are dear friends, sometimes they are passing acquaintances, sometimes they are complete strangers.There is no consistency in my motive. Sometimes I make some sort of violent mistake and decide I need to "finish it"; sometimes I'm following the orders of a ringleader; sometimes I have no idea why I did it. There is never, though, a feeling that I enjoyed it. In fact, the violence itself is rarely "on screen" for much of the dream. The sticky, sour feeling of the violence clings to me, but only as a sort of garnish for my feelings about being a murderer. The experience is confusing and sad, and the aftermath is unbearable. You have changed your life, and even your very identity. You have changed the lives of other people forever, and actually terminated another life, and you have no explanation that would ever be the equal of this event. You have gone from being whatever you thought you were--a wife, a father, a teacher, a fireman, whatever you were--to being a murderer. You wonder if you can face the punishment that you absolutely deserve, and also, whether you can even wrap your head around the logistics of running away and "starting over", even though you'll never be able to live with yourself.

The dreams are not, of course, about actual murder.They are about doing something irrevocable. Or more to the point, the fear of doing something that requires absolute and everlasting commitment, that can never be transformed by apologies or rationales. In the first act or so of a human life, virtually everything can be ameliorated by context, forgiven as youthful folly, or later, as something you did when you were a different person. We romanticize the importance of making bittersweet mistakes to the process of maturing. Then one day, you're a certain age, you've graduated from college, you've entered the job market, and others have the same exacting expectations of you that you have had of your parents. Now your behavior is of consequence. It defines who you are as an individual, and describes your ability to value your life and the lives of other people. Your actions have taken on a sort of indelible quality, making up your dreaded permanent record.

This is, as the trailers let you know, part of the premise of COLOSSAL. It was the part that worried me (even though I've just confessed to being something of an aging zygote myself). I thought, do we really need a SCOTT PILGRIM 2? Are we, the human race, doomed to worship at the shiny plastic altars of high school romcoms and "one crazy night" coed adventures no matter our age or generation? I've never been particularly fond of Ann Hathaway in any case, but like, how old is she by now and is she supposed to be that old in this peppy coming of age comedy about a feckless hipster finding herself? I set this concern aside and committed to a screening on the encouragement of its more novel conceit: A straight up kaiju appears in Seoul, and Mme Hathaway discovers that she's controlling it. I hesitated to write about this movie for a long time after I first saw it, because I felt sure that people would be talking about it, nay, obsessing over it. The formula had indeed been proven out by SCOTT PILGRIM, hadn't it? Or even before that, by Joss Whedon, whose exclusive approach is placing flirty fashion plates in high octane sci-fi/fantasy scenarios. I thought that by the time I got to my keyboard, everything I had to say would have been made redundant. However, as of my second helping of this movie, even the Whedonites in my circles don't know what's going on with this movie, so, here I am. 

For a time, COLOSSAL does make good on its more boring promises. Aging party girl Gloria (Hathaway) has just been dumped by her rich bitch boyfriend Tim (Dan Stevens), who is sick and tired of her chronic unemployment and constant gadding about. With nowhere else to go, the erstwhile blogger sensation leaves Manhattan for her vacant family home upstate, where she encounters childhood chum Oscar (SNL alum Jason Sudeikis). Naturally, our narcissistic heroine doesn't remember too much about her apparently charming, rugged, upstanding pal, who seems to have been waiting all these years to show her the love she deserves. He manages to get her flighty attention with the quirky bar he runs, which is "so ironic" and "just like a Wes Anderson movie!" Sometime during what's turning out to be a rolling blackout, Oscar gets boozy Gloria to agree to work at his saloon, creating a great opportunity for the two to couple up. That part of the movie will help this stuck up city girl get back to her unpretentious roots, and then the part of the movie where she learns that a giant monster is physically tied to her will teach her to control her outrageous behavior...right?

Well, that's partly true, but what's MOSTLY true is that after about the first third, COLOSSAL downshifts into a serious and often harrowing drama about addiction and domestic abuse. The first unusual feature of this GODZILLA AND ULTRAMAN'S 500 MIXTAPES OF ETERNAL SUMMER story is that civilian mortality is taken very, very seriously. Anne Hathaway may not be a very good alcoholic--the direction keeps her liquor-fueled crises from feeling organic, and she's always way too put-together, like where was Abbi Jacobson when they were making this?--but she manages to nail the next most important thing, which is Gloria's mindbending horror at the devastation of Seoul. This is probably a good time to disclose my abiding hatred for disaster porn. Even if it centers on Dwayne Johnson tarzanically swinging between crumbling skyscrapers to scoop up errant family members, I am acutely nauseated by "entertainment" about people being blown up and buried alive, as happens absolutely all the time in conditions of war, terrorism, and so-called acts of god. Movies like these, no matter how stupid and breezy, always send chills down my spine. So, on that account, I was deeply gratified to find Gloria immediately and viscerally revolted by the news feed from Korea. But then, she makes the desperate mistake of calling her recently ex'd boyfriend Tim, who has a disturbing reaction to her chosen topic of conversation: "That was nine hours ago. What have you been doing all day?"

At first this just seems like an awkward piece of writing, but it's an important indicator of the film's real focus. Tim really is less interested in massive loss of life and large scale paranormal phenomena, than he is in whether his not-even-girlfriend-anymore is straightening her shit out, and not drinking all night with Oscar and his weird friends. She did, of course, spend all night at the bar, but this is the first time we can tell that Gloria might not be her own biggest problem. Tim seems reasonable at first--of course an independent adult should be gainfully employed, of course people should control their drinking instead of letting their drinking control them. But, his rapid shift of attention from world-changing events to criticizing his loser ex-girlfriend is a major red flag. The fact that Gloria doesn't call him out on this is not only a testament to her guilt, but evidence of something rotten in their relationship.

Meanwhile, Oscar is busy positioning himself as the answer to her prayers. Not only has he set her up with a job, but he begins furnishing her home--first comes a big screen TV, and then a bed, and much more. These gifts are supposedly a response to her specific requests, made during a late, drunken conversation she can't even remember. Oscar's benevolence is therefore a little mysterious, but Gloria is distracted by a bigger mystery: Why it is that the monster emerges in Seoul at the same time each morning, during which she's usually stumbling home from the bar through a playground? That coincidence alone is a little empty, but it gains meaning when she also notices that the creature's physical gestures exactly match her activities (making a phone call, lugging a grocery bag) during these AM sojourns. The next time she's suitably hammered, she decides to prove to Oscar that, using the playground as a sort of game board, she can manifest the monster and make it do whatever she wants. Of course, her being so tipsy results in a clumsy fall, resulting in hundreds of Korean casualties.

Hathaway again produces her impressive, apoplectic shame, which so helps the movie achieve its grave potential. However, while Gloria is feeling the unbearable weight of her responsibility, her would-be hero Oscar is only interested in the fact that, when he helped haul her off the playground, a giant robot turned up in Seoul. Admittedly, that's a pretty wild development, but it's just as important that Oscar seriously lacks empathy. He helps Gloria try to address her predicament, but he doesn't have time for her emotional distress, nor concern for any of the victims--he only has one goal in mind. Like "the one" in a John Hughes movie, he sappily confesses that he's been following the details of her life online ever since she left home, ostensibly because he admires her so much. Savvy viewers will worry that here, COLOSSAL commits the cardinal sin of equating true love with stalking. Personally, I also worried that this was one of those movies where a talented, vital young woman is punished relentlessly for elevating herself above her humble beginnings, ala REALITY BITES and countless others. However, COLOSSAL is a movie that keeps its secrets almost too well, so it's still a welcome surprise when Oscar eventually turns out to have bigger issues than the prideful presumption that he deserves Gloria.

Make no mistake, Jason Sudeikis is the real star of this movie. Many people seemed to have low expectations of him based on his lite comedy track record, but as Oscar, he is capable of often frightening depth and gravity. He begins to reveal his true nature when, intoxicated both literally and by his newfound robot power, he begins stomping around the playground on his own. A horrified Gloria stops him, creating a kaiju battle in Seoul that the global public absolutely loves. Just like in the actual Godzilla franchise, the introduction of a new character makes the once-fearsome creature into a good guy. Oscar takes this pretty hard, especially when the fight turns out to be so very meme-worthy. After a full day of escalating drinking and self-pity, he finally launches an attack on Gloria, which starts as verbal but comes to a nasty physical conclusion. The event is fueled as much by jealousy, as it is by Gloria experimenting with sobreity, which Oscar naturally reads as as a tacit criticism of his drinking. The following day, she visits him at home for the first time, to try to reject the entire household's worth of furniture that he sent over, and we find out how he really lives. Outside, Oscar is a likable, stable-seeming Average Joe who looks like he just stepped out of a truck ad. At home, he's a shambling mess whose inner chaos is reflected by a house that looks a little like something from Hoarders. It becomes clear that his previous romantic affair didn't end due to the woman's "boredom" with him, but with his own destructive behavior. At the sight of a weepy, shame-faced Oscar, Gloria makes two critical mistakes: First, she forgives him, and second, she accepts his tossed off agreement to her inadequate demand that he just stop drinking "after hours". Anyone who has ever dealt with an addict knows where this is going, and actually, where it has been all this time.

Lest anyone think that this narrative turn suggests that Gloria belongs with Tim, the ex shows up in town on the flimsy premise that he's meeting a with a client. He's obviously there to reclaim his woman, but his approach is important: He forgoes reminiscing about the good times, or any form of flattery or affection, for immediately browbeating her about her new waitressing gig. Tim doesn't want Gloria to pull herself up by her bootstraps and make an honest dollar, he wants her to become something that would reflect better on him personally. He's not interested in the loss of life in Seoul because he doesn't have any control over that--he fixates on Gloria, who he could easily replace with a more suitable mate, because he has enjoyed total control over her emotions and her self-esteem. It's not nearly as important for Tim to find companionship as it is for him to retain the passive services of someone he can regularly torture for failing to live up to his personal standards.

The following sequence is terrifying, but for a more subtle reason than that Oscar sets his bar on fire to prove to Tim that Gloria won't leave his side, no matter what he does. Of course, he leaves out the fact that she stays because he's threatened to trounce Seoul any time she's not around to stop him--but, this scene will be familiar to anyone who has ever been in an abusive relationship. Your failure to rebel against the tyrant is humiliatingly obvious to everyone around you. Your fear of what this person will do if you "just stand up for yourself" is not. But more to my point, what is really frightening about this sequence is not the grander consequences, for Gloria and for the world. It's that she's trapped at a table, not with two jealous rivals who want to win her heart, but with two men who are fighting for the exclusive privilege of hating her, with the full force with which a man can hate a woman.

Tim's self-righteous loathing of Gloria may be slightly more innocuous than Oscar's unpredictable mood swings and physical brutality. But, the two do overlap. I will say, from extensive experience, that a man can want you to be both better than him, and worse than him, at the same time, and he will reserve the right to punish you for each. A man can entice you with his admiration for your intelligence, creativity and kindness, all of which is so impressive to a sad little nobody like himself who doesn't deserve you. Unfortunately, this Beauty and the Beast routine always dredges up the dangerous question, "If you can love a piece of shit like me, then what the fuck is wrong with you?" Where your love was once considered a prize, it gradually becomes a crime; where you were once regarded as a saint, you are now seen as some sort of degenerate whore who needs to be taught a lesson. He may accuse you, more benignly, of being a "doormat"--but, if you have the nerve to show a little more confidence, then you're suddenly guilty of throwing a spotlight on his inferiority, again. In one of the easier-to-discuss aspects of the relationship I'm describing, my boyfriend went from courting me at my retail job, to dating me and shaming me for my retail job, to objecting to my job search by accusing me of trying to fuck whoever I'd be working for, to crumbling in a fit of self-hatred when I got a job that he would have actually been proud of. In one of my only displays of bravery, I asked him all the time why he wouldn't just break up with me, if he hated everything I did so much. He changed the subject, finding something new to berate me for, 100% of the time that I asked this question. It took me a long time to realize that the answer was, he liked things just the way they were. He wanted me at the ready whenever he had the urge to play out his twin dramas of being a worthless worm, or an imperious alpha male whose shining light no one truly deserved. I was a sort of sundial by which he could prove something about himself, whatever it was that he was feeling most strongly at that moment. Oscar demonstrates this thinking brilliantly when Gloria tries to stop him from perpetrating another mass murder, by assaulting her and shouting in a twisted non sequitur, "YOU THINK EVERYTHING REVOLVES AROUND YOU! WELL IT DOESN'T, NOT ANYMORE!" If Oscar wants to teach Gloria that she's beneath him, then he's going to have to own her, to make of their relationship a class she can never pass.

Up to this point, Oscar has offered up a textbook's worth of indicators of an abusive boyfriend, without so much as a kiss from Gloria. He spies on her online, he takes advantage of her drunken states to ask invasive questions and trap her into major commitments, he insists on doing her favors that she rejects and then blames her for forcing him to do them, he tries to isolate her from other men, he buys her expensive gifts to keep her in constant debt, he takes control of her income and, later, her ability to go anywhere without him. As is ALWAYS the case, he condemns his absent ex-girlfriend for leaving him for shallow reasons, overwriting the more obvious narrative of alcoholism and intimate terrorism, and inadvertently admitting that he himself fears that he's "boring". The things that he casts as Gloria's virtues--that she was talented from a young age, and ambitious enough to act on his own private dreams of moving to the big city and becoming a writer--are actually the precise things that he has hated about her since early childhood. She even scored the hero role in the conflict playing out in Seoul, where his giant robot inspires only fear and anger. He's going to show her how little she deserves what she has, even if it means beating her with his fists on a playground that children pass on their way to school. (For which I would really like to congratulate the film, actually, you don't usually see this ever outside of  grittier dramas, or more gimmicky pieces like SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY) The end comes into sight when Gloria realizes that Tim's backhanded encouragement isn't a solution to her problems, and more startlingly, that there's probably a patch of land in Seoul that is equivalent to the transcendental playground where Oscar is waiting for her to come and stop his latest rampage. Arriving in Seoul just in time, Gloria manages to manifest her monster in New York. Miraculously, she is able to make it pick up Oscar in its fist, and fling both him and the robot into the nearest (happily coincidental) mountain ranges around each location. It doesn't exactly make a ton of sense, but as I, like Oscar, am burdened by my own damaged subjectivity, I choose to focus on the facets of the film that fulfill my own emotional needs, which includes this terminal act of vengeance. 

I truly wonder how a lot of men view this film, which doesn't employ the same cartoony cliches as typical thrillers about stalkers and bad boyfriends, with their broad-strokes depictions of rape, child endangerment, imprisonment, and beatings. It would be very easy for most men to identify themselves as "not THAT guy" in movies like ENOUGH and THE BOY NEXT DOOR (sorry, J-Lo, but what the fuck?) and be done with the topic, silently reassuring themselves that their actual shitty behavior is no big deal. Even though the United States is currently dealing with actual legislation to decriminalize rape, public awareness has still come a lot farther regarding what constitutes misogyny, than where we were at when I was a teenager, or even in my 20s. My most abusive partner would instinctively proclaim his lefty ally status by invoking his non-white and non-straight and non-male friends at every opportunity, but he didn't know enough not to say to my friends that an annoying acquaintance "needed to get raped". He didn't have the critical thinking necessary to stop himself from sleazily denouncing women who wouldn't help him cheat on me as "only dating black guys". He didn't have the self-confidence nor social consciousness to stop worrying about whether people thought he was a "faggot". Looking back, it's amazing how educated young men, who considered themselves to be on the right side of history, were able to differentiate between wife-beating guns and god people, and their own white knight selves, even though the two groups espoused utterly the same feelings. In a world before the concepts like revenge porn and slut-shaming were widely acknowledged, legions of guys like my abusive ex were especially able to deny their cultural contribution to violence against women, and define their own issues as unique "personal problems" that they could blame individually on "crazy" girlfriends, or high school traumas, or parents who didn't love them enough. I haven't had to find out, luckily, but I've often wondered how men like my ex feel when they watch their heroes on Comedy Central and the like, explicitly damning the behavior of people exactly like themselves. I wonder how my Nerdist-wannabe ex feels when he watches a nerd-baiting action-comedy like COLOSSAL, that turns out to contain an almost academic examination of the way he treated me. I also wonder how I would feel if I had the ability to hurl his helpless body into a mountainside. For better or worse--certainly better, for him--all I can do is write.

[utopia-game]

INTERVIEW: Sadira sits down with FFW

Hello Utopians, I am sitting on my stoop watching the rain outside when FFW, leader of Merciless, came to sit beside me and have a talk. (S) Morning, FFW. Been keeping busy during this Covid19 crap? (F) Been a little slow to be honest. Some of us being front liners mean we have less time dedicated to the game. (S) I personally thank all of you essential workers for putting up with us slackers. Let’s start with some basic stuff. How long have you been playing Utopia? (F) I’ve played on and off from age 7. So many many years I guess. This is probably the longest I’ve played utopia consecutively since age 72. It’s great to see how the game changed over the years and how much simpler the mechanics are today (S) Do you feel it is too simple? (F) Personally, I don’t feel it’s too simple. Some mechanic changes actually force the strategies which were once stale to evolve again so there is still complication in today’s simplicity. (S) How did you get into Utopia? (F) From a neopets ad. I was a kid back then and I saw ok maybe I press this and see where it goes. (S) Are you serious?? (F) Absolutely (S) That is too precious. Do you play other games? What games? (F) I play DotA2, elsword, maplestory from time to time, Warcraft 3, Starcraft 2 and Hearthstone (S) Does your significant other hate that you play utopia? Have you tried to get them into playing? (F) Well at the moment I’m a proud bachelor so I can’t answer that question (S) Can always find love thru Utopia. Would you like to give a shout out to any past kds you have played for? (F) Probably Bodega of Lotus since it was the only kd that I would remember for life (S) I remember that kd. Who do you feel you learned the most about this game from? (F) It’s probably the fact that there’s no eternal friends or enemies only mutual benefits (S) That is an interesting statement, would you like to elaborate? (F) There are players I’ve sworn never to trust in my life but definitely some have come to my aid when interests are aligned. Can’t really go into too much details or I’d be openly flaming them haha (S) Would you say you play this game strictly for the competition and challenges? (F) I wouldn’t. I just play it with people I get along with since it’s something I do with my spare time (S) How long have you played in Merciless? (F) I was part of the founding crew in age 75 which didn’t go too well so we reformed in 79. I guess all the ages we’re around for. (S) Has the kd always been called Merciless? (F) Yes absolutely (S) Any back story to how it got its name? (F) In age 75 we didn’t know what to call ourselves since we never decided on it. So we put it to a kd vote at the time. I decided we should be no mercy based on the song from the living tombstone. Zhogun another part of founding council said why not merciless. So we put it to a kd vote and merciless won. The name was really liked by the crew at the time since everyone just wanted to fsu (S) It is a catchy name. How would you describe your kd and your kdmates? (F) Well if you watch DC’s legends of tomorrow, I think that’s an apt description. A band of misfits that did really well. (S) Your kd is pretty successful age to age, to what do you attribute its success to? (F) Mainly everyone’s commitment to continue trying new things and find ways to improve. I mean we played human warrior when everyone was hyping dwarf tact. That took a lot of faith and belief to try. (S) Do you like to test combo's that the majority of kds don't try? (F) Absolutely I think there’s really no bad combinations. Just how you execute your strengths is what differentiates a winner from a loser (S) Does your kd have a particular goal in mind each age? (F) Yes we do. We normally set it from the start of the age and keep to it. We don’t always achieve it but it helps post age reflection (S) Do you have any suggestions to potentially new players or existing players that might find themselves lost? (F) If you find yourselves lost. Ask yourself what do you want to do in this game. I know it’s hard to part with kdmates that have been with you for ages but if your goals are not aligned it’s time for some changes. Don’t fear the unknown, try it and embrace it. If you’re a new player don’t be afraid to ask stupid questions. That’s the only way you can grow. For veterans don’t downplay stupid questions either maybe it’s something you never thought of otherwise and keep an open mind (S) If you could go back in time and give the "newb" you one piece of advice, what would it be? (F) Stop wasting time trying to convince people who never will listen. Making your own kd is far easier (S) Describe any funny or peculiar incidents that made you either laugh until your sides hurt or had you wanting to throw your computer/phone out the window. (F) We have a nasty habit of people being quick shot with dragons. Many will accidentally send dragon for various reasons and it drives me insane. We also had a dragon situation once with Void where we were bored so we robbed Tetre of a full dragon gc and sent it to Void for kicks and laughs. Unfortunately, our stew at the time Taco was on a side chat to negotiate war with Void so he flipped out and rage quit haha (S) If you could sit down and have a drink with DavidC, what would you be drinking and what suggestions would you like to mention? (F) Pepsi since that's the only **** I drink at a bar. I would encourage him to look at bottom feeding protection a bit more since it's currently the most broken thing in Utopia. People are abusing bottom feeding protections to annoy people at the top with robs and trads on smaller provs in larger kds. For instance, SWEA robbed us all age last age and we couldn't do anything to them because of bottom feeding mechanics until they came into range and we sent a full wave of learns to spite them which we all agreed alright CF we're even (S) Didn't a long time ago, kd size didn’t matter, only province. (F) that was equally broken since it was disproportionate and encouraged bullying too much (S) So what do you think is the solution? (F) mmm i have my ideas but might be a little challenging to code. Perhaps introduce a zero protection when meter points are higher for aggressors so a smaller kd cannot intentionally annoy a bigger kd without consequences, else it kind of defeats the accomplishments of kds who strive to be the strongest since strength comes from size due to war win mechanics (S) Hmm..maybe its also a bit of ethics and respect. Only a handful of kds tend to use that to their advantage. (F) for ages if you land top5, its a massive target on your back saying please hit my lower rung provs for free or rob me to your content (S) I could argue that kds that land in the top 5 got there pushing their way thru smaller kds. (F) absolutely true as well since war wins are built on beating a weaker opponent for every top 5 kd there's 20 kds buried to build it (S) So you don't feel like a kd that 'taxes' smaller kds should be touched for their resources? (F) I have no sympathy for kingdoms who chose of their own volition to stay tiny to beat on other less skilled kingdoms.I am not talking about tiny kds. Im talking maybe T15. (S) T1 goes down the line, taking acres one kd at a time to get that crown. You don't think a kd that has had its land taken by that kd should not be allowed to rob resources off them? (F) Those kingdoms aren't entirely helpless either. They could fight back with ops or hit back (S) I am just playing the Devil's Advocate here for the moment, you say smaller kds annoy bigger kds. I say bigger kds annoy smaller kds with waves that they know the other kd isnt going to retaliate. But we digress, let’s get back to these all important questions. Maybe you can get this bonus question right: What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow? (F) Honestly, i have no idea? 300 miles an hour? (S) -=tosses him off the bridge=- Wrong! (F) eh worth a shot (S) Anything you would like to add or any shout outs to any players? (F) Shout-outs for sure. Topsy, Dowla, ahtoad, Mansoor, Evil Queen, MasterOfOrion, you guys make utopia fun and interesting, since some of you are on break hope to see you soon! (S) Thanks for sitting with me and chatting. Let’s go get some Pepsi and watch some submarine races now. (F) Thank you and drink time! since its morning I shall drink green tea

[bobjlower]

Humans Are Hardwired For Trading Failure

“Trading is hard”, is something we traders know already, but there are proven psychological effects that explain why the human mind is not made for trading. In the following article, we will explore seven of the most popular psychological phenomena, what they mean for traders and what to be aware of when you interact with other traders.

 #7 Bandwagon Effect

In general: The Bandwagon effect describes the phenomenon that the probability of one person adopting a belief increases based on the number of people who hold that belief. This means that if more people share a certain belief, even it is a wrong belief; it is more likely that other people will agree and also accept a group’s ideas and assumptions. In trading: If you are a member of a trading Skype group, read threads in trading forums or just exchange ideas with other traders, you are more likely to think that trade ideas are going to be correct. It can be very helpful to be part of a trading group, but not of the only goal is to get confirmation about trade signals. Think for yourself!

 #6 Herding

In general: Herding explains the effect that people tend to flock together, especially in times of uncertainty or when the going gets tough. If you have to face a difficult decision or have to deal with a situation that you cannot explain, you look for other people and mimic their behavior. The rationale is that a group, especially a big group, cannot be wrong or fooled easily.

In trading: There are two negative effects for traders that exist through Herding behavior. First, Herding can be the reason for the creation of financial bubbles. When more and more people talk about a certain investment, everyone tends to believe it is a “sure thing” because “so many people can’t be wrong”. And second, if traders fail to understand the development of a market or a trade, they will flock together to come up with certain random explanations or just unanimously agree that “the markets are weird and irrational”. This ignorance and delusion of understanding will lead to further wrong trading decisions and blaming the markets instead of facing one’s own mistakes.

 #5 Information Bias

In general: The Information Bias describes the tendency to seek information when it does not change the outcome of a certain situation – more information is not always better.

In trading: Information Bias plays a very important role in the life of a trader. When traders encounter losses, they believe it is their fault and that there are certain things he doesn’t know, but could prevent him from taking losses next time. Therefore, traders go out and buy books, read in trading forums for days and weeks and watch trading webinars without end with the goal to gather more knowledge about “how the markets and trading works”.

In reality, losses don’t occur because a trader knows too little. The Information Bias is, therefore, one of the main reasons for system hopping and the endless quest for the Holy Grail in trading.

 #4 Ostrich Effect

In general: The Ostrich effect describes the phenomenon to ignore dangerous or negative information by “burying” one’s head in the sand, like an ostrich. Addict smokers are a good example of the Ostrich effect when they neglect the fact that smoking causes cancer and a variety of diseases  – even when faced with horrible photographs on the outside of cigarette packs.

In trading: When traders find themselves in losing trades, but cannot accept that they are wrong, they will turn into ostriches. To try to outsmart the market and to turn a loss into a profitable trade, traders will often try to average down, which means adding new positions to losing trades – a recipe for disaster. Another common ostrich-mistake is to widen stop loss orders (or taking them off completely) to delay the realization of the losing position with the hope that markets might turn around in their favor.

 #3 Outcome Bias

In general: The Outcome bias describes the fact that humans judge a decision based on the outcome, rather than how the decision was made. If you win a lot of money gambling all your net worth, it doesn’t mean that it was a smart thing to do.

In trading: The Outcome bias is a very dangerous effect for traders because it can lead to wrong assumptions about how trading works. If a trader abandons his trading plan and takes a random trade based on “gut feeling” or pure guessing, but finds himself in a winning trade, he might believe that he doesn’t need a trading plan and developed some sense about how markets move, whereas in reality, it was pure luck. Therefore, never deviate from your trading plan and always stick to your trading rules.

A ‘bad’ trade can turn into a winning trade and a ‘good’ trade into a loser. In both cases, the outcome is not based on a trader’s abilities, but on the nature of how trading works.

 #2 Overconfidence

In general: Overconfidence describes the phenomenon that some humans are too confident about their abilities, which causes them to take greater risks in their daily lives. In surveys, 84 percent of Frenchmen estimate that they are above-average lovers (Taleb). Without the overconfidence bias, the figure should be exactly at 50%.

In trading: It doesn’t matter where you listen to traders, you will always get the impression that 99% of all traders are chest-pounding millionaires, riding the markets up and down, whereas in reality, less than 1% of all traders can make profits. In a 2006 study, researcher James Montier found that 74% of the 300 professional fund managers surveyed judged their performance as above-average and almost 100% believed that their job performance was average or better.

 #1 Self-Enhancing Transmission Bias

In general: The Self-enhancing transmission bias explains the effect that everyone prefers to talk about success more than about failures. This leads to a false perception of reality and the inability to accurately assess situations. Although it is obvious that most people are no high achievers like Tiger Woods, Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, or Elon Musk, average people will not talk about their failures and why they are stuck in life where they are.

In trading: Traders love to talk about their winners constantly but downplay their losses. The losses are neglected because traders attribute them to unfair conditions, just a bad day or a small lack of attention which can be avoided easily (in theory). Those traders will focus on the wrong things and they could improve their trading much more effectively by working on their shortcomings. But a trader who is blind to one’s own inabilities will not see the need to fix them.

 Conclusion: Humans Are Not Made To Be Profitable Traders

Psychology and research show that humans are not made for trading and second, that our belief system can be used against us by smart trading marketers. The takeaway message of this article is that being aware of how your brain works when trading is a key element on the way to becoming a profitable trader and it helps you avoid some of the most common trading traps.

The post Humans Are Hardwired For Trading Failure appeared first on Tradeciety Trading Academy.

Humans Are Hardwired For Trading Failure published first on your-t1-blog-url

[how2to18]

SEVERAL LEDES are buried within journalist Snigdha Poonam’s Dreamers: How Young Indians Are Changing the World. Three-quarters of the way through, she writes: “Rare exceptions aside, my wide-ranging forays into the madness of modern India boiled down to the same thing: the anxieties of young men who no longer know their place in the world. What they find hardest to deal with are women who do.”

The chapter in question, “The Angry Young Woman,” profiles Richa Singh (no relation), a young politician whose confidence and bravery led her to take on the hostile masculinity she found at Allahabad University, where she won an unprecedented victory. A woman had never dared run for president of the students’ union in the 127-year history of the campus. In Allahabad, men dominated all social spaces around town, from the tea shops to the campus facilities, and especially the ins and outs of politics. By winning the election, Singh temporarily changed everything.

But this chapter is the only one in which a woman is profiled. Throughout the rest of 280 pages, Poonam’s intrepid reportage comes from the depths of young male rage and desperation, where everyone seems determined to out-scam everyone else on multiple levels. Stemming from a “whatever works,” “do-or-die” attitude, the men Poonam profiles will stop at nothing to get ahead, no matter who they have to cheat along the way. The title, Dreamers, is deceiving in its optimism because not much of anything hopeful appears in this book.

Right now, over half of India’s population, perhaps 600 million people, are under the age of 25, making them the largest number of young people for any country on earth. This generation’s male population, Poonam writes, are the most desperate since India’s independence. Every month, one million Indian youths enter the workforce, yet only 10,000 of them get jobs — a staggering statistic. The rest feel left behind and abandoned by their own country, so they turn to scams and violence to make money.

As a result, the men Poonam writes about are not driven by morality, but by how fast can they achieve money and fame. Their ability to flip between right and wrong depends only on what they stand to win or lose. Anxious about their future, these men feel they must succeed now or else risk being left behind. Since India’s infrastructure still operates on a foundation of bribery, scams, and corruption from bottom to top — so much, that corruption is often viewed as a virtue — this generation of young Indian men, Poonam writes, will cheat their way to their dreams because it’s all they ever see from politicians, businessmen, and celebrities. If these young men don’t embark on such an ideology right now, they will lose their shot at world domination.

“No matter how poorly placed they find themselves now, they make up the world’s largest ever cohort of like-minded young people, and they see absolutely no reason why the world shouldn’t run by their rules,” Poonam writes.

The consequences for the rest of us, inside and outside of India, of young India’s determination, won’t just be economic. The idea that only they can help themselves will lead this generation of Indians to redefine everything according to their perspective: work, success, morality. It will change our world in ways we can’t yet imagine.

The whole book provides explicit examples of this. In one chapter, Poonam brings us deep inside elaborate call center scams where hierarchies of young men are bilking American seniors out of their pensions with the nonchalance of a lazy afterschool project. In another chapter, various men known as “fixers” operate in rural slums, scamming residents for services they can often get for free. We also meet “talent management” companies ruthlessly exploiting wannabe superstars longing for Bollywood-style fame. These young men, often frustrated or rejected, are desperate for notoriety, only to end up with their aspirations destroyed.

She also investigates dubious English-language instruction centers exploiting the beliefs of young people who think that learning even mangled English will convert them from “losers” into “winners” and help them manufacture a global identity. This dovetails with people wanting to learn just enough cut-price English to get jobs writing punchy, obnoxious content for clickbait websites — exactly what happens in many scenarios.

“The version of English they speak — with colleagues, waiters, customer care executives — will define the future of the language in this country, and, in fact, the future of English worldwide,” Poonam writes. “With India expected to have the largest number of English speakers in the world in the next ten years — overtaking the U.S. — the English they speak will be the English of the future.”

If millions of young Indians are learning whichever bare-bones flavor of English facilitates their ability to scam people and elevate themselves in the corruption hierarchy, then it will have dramatic effects on international business, politics, and entertainment. Such gloomy observations appear all throughout the book.

In each case, the level of fraud and corruption does not unfold in just one direction. Those being supervised in how to perpetrate the scams are often simultaneously scamming their bosses, or even hiring middlemen they can exploit in the process. After someone works long enough in a fraudulent call center operation — whether it’s in tech support, insurance, banking, or travel — he might then quit to start up his own fraudulent call center. After spending a few years with such people, Poonam discovered that the scam soldiers were taking over the scams. Once they learned the tricks of the trade, they gave up on the long hours and started their own operation.

“What did you need to run a tech support scam?” Poonam writes. “A team of five, a rented room, computers, mobile phones, a stash of software, a pop-up vendor, and a friend in the U.S. or U.K. to lend you their bank account.”

The tech-support scammers run the whole operation on Facebook, using pop-up boxes to remotely take over someone’s computer and eventually scam gullible American seniors out of millions. Every petty scammer is now a mastermind on his way to an imagined lifestyle of parties, beautiful girls, and fast cars — things he never had before.

Poonam’s investigations also take her into the dark underworld of mob violence. In the most disturbing chapter among many, she embeds herself with the gau rakshaks, vigilante cow-protection armies, whose logo is a gilded torso of a cow flanked by a pair of swords and AK-47s. Commanders are elected, foot soldiers are chosen, and the groups operate as organized fundamentalist Hindu mobs of angry young men targeting anyone, but especially Muslims and Dalits, who might be smuggling cattle somewhere. Out of social isolation, anxiety, sexual rejection, and the “restless anger of a budding dictator,” the gau rakshaks Poonam investigates all seem frightened by the prospect of a global secular society diminishing their religiosity. They respond by finding solace in the power of violence.

As if that wasn’t enough, Poonam also explores grotesque “anti-Valentine’s Day jihads,” where any violent young man might tie an iron bar to the back of his motorcycle for the purpose of swinging it at couples on Valentine’s Day — all just to injure happy lovers for no other reason. Single, broke, and doubtful that he will ever find a job or a woman that likes him, the type of man who does this, Poonam writes, is

what think pieces explaining the Trump and Brexit verdicts term a loser of globalization, one of the millions of leftover youths whose anger is transforming world politics. […] On an elemental level, he doesn’t know if he matters to the world. There’s only one way left for him to make that happen: punish everyone who’s moved ahead of him in that queue. This is what he thinks politics is about.

Which is obviously why Poonam elevates the female politician Richa Singh above the toxic stew depicted in the rest of the book. Poonam describes Singh as someone inspired by true change, someone who can actually call herself a politician. In a landmark series of events, Singh united minority factions and won an election at Allahabad University. She even sat in on a hunger strike to block the right-wing Hindu nationalist preacher Yogi Adityanath from appearing on campus, which later became pointless since he wound up as the chief minister of Uttar Pradesh anyway.

At times, though, Poonam doesn’t shy away from taking sides, admitting that she was rooting for Singh, “in guilt and in bewilderment.” In one of several confessional passages, Poonam feels a connection with Singh’s causes, but says she doesn’t have Singh’s guts or idealism.

“Singh’s fight against caste, communalism and patriarchy — what she called ‘muscle power’ — voiced most of my issues with the country’s politics,” Poonam writes. “I was drawn to stories of women putting up a fight; reporting and writing about their fight was almost a compensation for not participating in it.”

With the understanding that Dreamers only represents a tiny sample base, the book does not leave any sense of optimism in the reader. Even though Poonam dangles a few threads of hope near the end — Richa Singh’s success is now inspiring more women to enter university politics — one doesn’t come away feeling that anything good can possibly come from the exploits of millions of young men defrauding their fellow humans. The book functions like a damning, almost apocalyptic forewarning.

Whatever does become of half a billion young Indians will have a dramatic effect on the rest of the world, Poonam writes. For example, in the United States and Europe, many people are just becoming aware of Facebook’s and Twitter’s role in the spreading of hatred, misogyny, and religious intolerance. In India, those scenarios are amplified by multiple degrees, and by millions upon millions of perpetrators who want in on the action. The damage caused by troll armies, endless harassment, abuse, and fake stories are far beyond their counterparts in the West, as are millions of Indian twentysomethings pooling their resources to operate call center scams and professional fraud networks on Facebook.

For these men, if their only ideology in life is to cheat their way to the top — “whatever works” — then the planet needs to pay serious attention, Poonam warns. Americans or anyone in the West who thinks they needn’t keep tabs on the rest of the world are in for a dire awakening.

¤

Gary Singh was recently a Steinbeck Fellow in Creative Writing at San Jose State University and is the author of The San Jose Earthquakes: A Seismic Soccer Legacy (2015, The History Press). For 13 years, his columns have appeared in Metro Silicon Valley, San Jose’s alternative weekly newspaper.

The post The Million Trumps of India appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[itsjaybullme]

Olympia Legend: Phil Heath

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PHIL HEATH WINS A LOT

Starting with his first show in 2003, he’s 17-7, and he’s finished atop the bodybuilding world at the last seven Mr. Olympias. He’s won so much this decade it’s hard to remember him ever losing. But no one is a born winner. Success is a mindset that needs to be learned, practiced, and perfected. Phil Heath tells you how he did that and does that. These are not just lessons for bodybuilding success. Together, they’re a winning strategy for everything. 

LEARN FROM YOUR LOSSES

Things came easily for Heath at first. In his only loss in the NPC, he still won his class. He turned pro on his singular try at the 2005 USA and then won his initial two pro shows in 2006. But he was still just a puppy—if a really good one. At 5'9", he could’ve competed in the 212 division—if there had been one. He was winning with shape and conditioning, but he was undersized, and that was exposed in 2007 at the Arnold Classic. “On this bigger stage, the 27-year-old simply didn’t have enough,” I wrote about Heath then, after praising his conditioning as the best in the lineup and before singling out his legs as especially weak. He finished fifth. Afterward, many wondered if he was already maxing out and if he’d ever have enough for the Arnold title, let alone the Olympia.

A little less than a year later, Heath shut up every critic when he stepped onstage at the Ironman Pro at a peeled 230. Bodybuilding, meet your future. For a year, Heath had replayed that humbling Arnold loss and the resulting criticism and used it to fuel his workouts. There was no way he was ever again going to flex weighing less than 225. Every day was focused on his workouts and his meals. He was determined to become a unicorn, that thing they said didn’t exist—the advanced bodybuilder who thoroughly transforms his physique in a single year. He never would’ve done it had he stubbornly stuck to what had already brought him great and rapid success. No, he had to admit defeat and accept why he was defeated in order to devise a plan to overcome. 

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PREVENT PROBLEMS

Before preparing Heath’s meals in their Las Vegas hotel suite in the final days before the most recent Olympia, Heath’s fiance, Shurie Cremona, scrubbed down the kitchen counters and sink with bleach.

This might seem like bacterial overkill, but a bodybuilder’s immune system is stressed precontest, and Heath got sick before the ’09 Olympia, likely from food poisoning, and slipped to fifth place. At an earlier show, his food didn’t arrive, and he had to scramble to get his meals prepared. Ever since, he’s anticipated anything that could derail him, even if it only appears under a microscope. Be proactive. Strategize to stave off every potential problem, and have a contingency plan just in case something slips through. 

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DREAM BIG

Not long after Heath hoisted his first Sandow in 2011, he started talking about collecting nine more. The record, held jointly by Lee Haney and Ronnie Coleman, is eight. And only 13 men in 53 contests have earned one.

But having become No. 13 at the relatively young age of 31, Heath needed a new and grand motivation. Why shoot for three or five or even eight— as tremendous as any of those tallies would be?

No, the ultimate bodybuilding number is nine, and for good measure, he tacked on one more—10. As the poet Robert Browning wrote, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” It seemed ludicrous at first—10!— but year after year, Heath could quote another poet, DJ Khaled: “All I do is win.” Now it appears as if the Gift’s celestial goal might just be within his grasp in 2020. Aim high. Set a goal that challenges you to be great. 

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ALWAYS BE A STUDENT

In the summer of 2006, coming off victories in his first two pro shows, a year after his one-and-done win at the USA, Heath was flying high. Then, in a happening destined not to stay in Vegas, he trained back with his friend, Jay Cutler. A photographer and I chronicled the event for FLEX readers.

There was no sugarcoating it. Heath got buried by the pace and the poundages of Cutler’s back barrage. It only magnified the fact that he was a rookie and still a puppy, while Cutler was an alpha dog who just two months later would win his first of four Olympia titles.

The Gift came back down to earth, but, more importantly, he discovered firsthand what it would take to build Olympia-worthy muscle. And he’s never stopped discovering. No matter how high you rise, chances are there is someone who has risen higher, perhaps someone who took a completely different route up the mountain. Life is a never-ending seminar. Even when you’re a teacher, you need to remain a student, too, because there’s always something more to be learned. 

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ASSESS YOUR FLAWS

Let’s jump ahead to the fall of 2015. Heath had collected his fifth consecutive Sandow. But, as always, he and trainer Hany Rambod assessed the contest photos and discussed what to improve. The answer was legs.

Considering the monster truck wheels of Big Ramy and Shawn Rhoden, top contenders could potentially exploit an advantage over the reigning king. So he and Rambod developed a routine to prioritize legs, hitting them twice weekly with greater volume and intensity.

As a result, his wheels were markedly inflated at the most recent Olympia. There’s always something to improve. You need to be honest with yourself and/or listen to the assessment of someone knowledgeable to determine your greatest weaknesses. If not, you’ll likely improve your strengths and neglect your flaws, only exacerbating the problem.

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KEEP YOUR COOL

Winning is the art of not losing. That might sound tautological, but there are ways to not be a loser, even when the scoreboard says otherwise. Most important, you need to avoid letting your emotions get the best of you. When, in the 2014 Olympia, Kai Greene threw is hair at Heath and nearly threw a fist, the frustrated heir apparent had as much as admitted he couldn’t beat the king in side-by-side posing comparisons. He literally lost it. On the other hand, Heath has had to swallow some close and controversial losses, especially the one to Greene at the 2010 Arnold Classic. Graciously accept defeat, learn from it, and plot a path to victory. Save your emotions for winning.

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REMEMBER WHERE YOU CAME FROM

Talk to Heath for long and he will inevitably mention basketball. It was on hardwood courts that he learned how to win. The Gift, who topped out at 5'9", wasn’t genetically gifted for B-ball. Nevertheless, he led his high school team to a Washington state title, and he played for a Division I college. Basketball is a sport wherein steady nerves are at a premium. You may need to make crucial free throws while the opposing crowd mockingly chants your name. The current Mr. O goes back to lessons gleaned from basketball coaches and game experience and applies them to his preparation for the Olympia.

It all helps him sink the big shot, so to speak, on the Orleans Arena stage each September. Everyone has a past to learn from. Maybe it was things a coach, teacher, or parent said. Maybe it’s things you experienced, negative as well as positive. Maybe it’s simply remembering how skinny or fat or poor you used to be that motivates you toward a better physique and a better life. 

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SELF-MOTIVATE

The 13th Mr. O works out alone. That means it’s up to him to get up for every workout, whether it’s precontest in Armbrust Pro Gym or in the depths of the off-season in some ill-equipped dump far from home. When Heath played basketball, he could count on his teammates and coaches to help motivate him for practices and games. But bodybuilding is the most individualistic of all sports. When you train by yourself, it’s just you and the iron. Heath uses music, short-term goals, and the will to win another Sandow to drive him through each metal session and keep him on his meal plan. Whatever it takes to motivate yourself, use it. No one else can make you hit a personal best or grind through early- morning cardio. You have to do it for yourself. 

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STAY HUNGRY

When you’ve won seven Olympias, it’s easy to get complacent, to assume what you’ve done before is good enough, that it’ll always be good enough, to start to think maybe you’re just destined to win. It’s a trap. The previous three Mr. O’s—Ronnie Coleman, Jay Cutler, and Dexter Jackson— all lost their crowns (Cutler twice). The Sandow is never promised. Heath knows this. He was competing in the O the last three times the champ lost, and his first win knocked Cutler off the throne. Fear of losing is one motivation.

But what most drives him ever onward is the pantheon of legends in which he now resides. Last year, as he toiled to tie Dorian Yates’ mark of six O’s, a giant photo of Yates in Armbrust reminded him of the standard he was trying to match. This year, he reached Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Olympia tally of seven. Heath is chasing immortality. The lesson is to never grow complacent. Always have a goal, and when you reach that goal, make a new and greater goal. It was Arnold who said: “For me, life is continuously being hungry. The meaning of life is not simply to exist, to survive, but to move ahead, to go up, to achieve, to conquer.” 

 FLEX 

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from Bodybuilding Feed https://www.muscleandfitness.com/flexonline/training/all-i-do-win via http://www.rssmix.com/