#but in their story. they are as unhinged and toxic as possible. so naturally. i need to make their gt dynamic a NIGHTMARE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dolliedarlin · 4 years ago

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i m p l i c i t ⏤katsuki b.

p a i r i n g : bakugou x f.reader

s u m m a r y : ever since you were young, you were forced to meet with the person dubbed as your finance, Katsuki Bakugou, a Baron’s son who had quite the temper but peaks your interest in every way possible

l e n g t h : 1.9k

g e n r e : olden days au ; fantasy au ; arranged marriage au ; Bakugou is a tsundere ; and we love him for it ; reader is an amazing bean that can keep up with him ; kirishima is your brother ; best brother ever ; rumours are toxic ; never base your opinions on someone solely on rumours ; you attract a stalker ; it’s not your fault ; he just as a twisted yandere mind ; Katsuki is your hero ; he makes your heart flutter ; and he makes your knees weak ; i really want someone to protect me and say what he said at the end of this

w a r n i n g s : swearing from our lovable explosion murder king ; acts of stalker/yandere ; sword fighting

a / n : i didn’t plan on posting this but mother nature decided to pay me a visit today so i basically lazed around in my bed groaning in pain and half starving bc it was too painful to get out at times for food. instead i started writing this imagine again that i had began months ago. this is inspired by Ranma 1/2, which is an anime that i loved watching when i was much younger, it’s not well edited because i’m kinda dizzy rn but i hope you enjoy it!

— first of all, before either you or Katsuki were born, the arrangement for your marriage to each other was already settled by your parents, hence why you were immediately introduced when you were children

— neither of you knew what marriage or engagement meant but you both associated it with seeing each other

— it wasn’t something Katsuki liked but you didn’t quite mind it, he always gave you really interesting reactions that you quickly came to like

— as the two of you grew up together, you always tried your best to get close to him but Katsuki was adamant at pushing you away and keeping you at arms length at all times

— despite all that, you wanted to catch his attention, which meant that you took interest in all the things that he found interesting too. that included: sword fighting, horse riding, duelling ; spicy foods ; battle tactics ; magic etc

— Katsuki always tried to ignore you but secretly appreciated how skilled you had become over the years. you were still nothing compared to him but you were able to battle against a majority of qualified knights and still be the last one standing

— he only scoffed at you because your talents were wasted; you’re too kindhearted to ever use your honed skills properly - it irritates him that other women push you to conform to etiquette, tea parties and high society when you were better than that

— you’re better than shallow conversations about the latest fashion, or the art of sipping tea, calligraphy and painting because he knows how much you train and how much effort you put into your education outside of such insignificant things

— Katsuki knows that you can handle yourself better than any other nobleman he knows of, he’s seen you help your father with his business and vigorously train with your dukedom’s knights

— what’s the point of all that effort if you weren’t going to show anything for it?

— because of that Katsuki always acted like he hated having you as his fiancée despite your optimism about him, as well as your patience and understanding of his unique way of expressing himself

— because the two of you are forced to spend a lot of time together by your parents, you’ve has been able to understand Katsuki and his mannerisms better than anyone else as your mother has always taught you to be openminded - she’s never been like the other noble ladies of society, hence why your father married her

— now, you were following in her footsteps. there’s been much gossip about your unladylike behaviour but you didn’t care, all you needed were your parents’ love and the love of Katsuki. he still needed some more time to come around but you’re positive you’ll get to him soon enough

— you’re positive there’s a different gleam in his eyes whenever he looks towards you now. it had always been one of hatred when you were much younger but his expressions frequently soften around you nowadays.

— no matter how subtle it may be, you always notice

— many rumours circulated about you the first time you had shown your skills openly amongst the knighthood. it had first started with your knights who praised you highly but, as soon as those whisperings reached outside the dukedom, many noble ladies started to gossip about your misdemeanour.

— surprisingly, those rumours were shut down in under a week and you didn’t know why; usually such good gossip material stayed for months and only faded with the years so it was peculiar to have it die down so quickly

— what was suspicious was that, as soon as your rumours died down, stories about Katsuki surged forward.

— when you conversed with other people, they would say how horrible they feel for you having to marry such an aggressive and dislikable fiancee. they would then over-exaggerate all the belligerent and misunderstood characteristics of Bakugou, even making up disgusting rumours that painted him to be more villainous than he actually was.

— “how shameful,” you spat with disgust, glowering down at the noble ladies frozen in their seats, “how dare you openly gossip about my fiancee right in front of me, the nerve! you should know better than to act like such children. if you have nothing better to do then i suggest you leave the kirishima estate immediately and never expect to be invited back,”

— they tried to beg you for forgiveness, seeing as your father held such power in high society, being one of the four noble dukes of the kingdom serving directly under the king as they all had noble blood.

— nobody expected your father to marry you to a Baron’s son. Katsuki didn’t have a higher title than you but your fathers had gone to war together and remained loyal friends ever since, Baron Bakugou went on to acquire his title of Braon after his service in the war but many people still looked down on him from his commoner origins. to think that such educated ladies of high society would use that as leverage to gossip however they wished.

— word of your actions on behalf of Bakugou spread quickly and the two of you became a couple that shouldn’t be trifled with.

— after that day, you always defend Katsuki and never miss the opportunity to express how much you admire him and care for him even if he doesn’t tend to reciprocate it

— you do this when Katsuki’s friends make an appearance, they consisted of your brother, Eijiro, Denki of house Kaminari (son of Marquis Kaminari) and Hanta of house Sero (son of Marquis Sero).

— they usually don’t visit the estate but this time they decided to utilise the knights training grounds for extra duelling practice and happened to catch you just as you were walking out, having finished your own training

— as soon as introductions and polite greetings were exchanged, came the jokes and jives.

— “I wouldn’t blame you if you eloped with someone else on your wedding day, Lady (Y/N), knowing this guy’s attitude,” Denki snickers as he points his thumb at your fiancé, who growled lowly in return.

— “i wouldn’t dare do something like that because, even if this is an arranged marriage, Katsuki will be the only man for me” Katsuki didn’t expect you to be so forward and couldn’t help the blush that coated his cheeks from your response

— Denki whistled in a mix of astonishment and amusement, “Katsuki’s a lucky guy!”

— “he looks really happy to hear you say that too, sis,” Eijiro teased as Hanta grinned from beside him.

— “shut up! we came here to train so let's train already, you dumbasses!”

— the days go by and life is good; the quicker your wedding day approaches the kinder and gentler Katsuki treats you. it wasn’t until the kindness you practiced with everyone you met, no matter their status, became something more in the twisted mind of an unknown individual that you encountered within city streets, while out shopping

— one act of kindness made the stranger crave for your touch and sought you out in the most deviant method. he sent constant letters multiple times a day and even mailed one with his most intimate item of clothing, not only that but he always stood at the gates of your estate, waiting for it to be opened just to slip in and try to meet you again

— of course, he didn’t get far because of the security brought on by your dukedom’s talented knights stopped him at every devious attempt. each incident was reported directly to your brother, who was training to inherit the duchy as soon as your father retired

— Eijiro was having none of it and devised the best plan of action he could, knowing that his image as the heir of the dukedom needed to be thought of so that his people wouldn’t be against him when he took over his capable father’s place. he resisted the urge for an immediate confrontation to plan with you, about how you wanted to defuse the situation

— however, as soon as word got to Bakugou, he ran over on foot to confront the man at your estate, just as Eijiro came down with a squadron of knights and you at his side

— lost in his own world, your stalker immediately reached out for you the instant he caught sight of your figure. on his face, he had a twisted smile and manic eyes, his breathing became heavy as if to savour the same air you breathed not too far away from him. it was frighting and chilling to see such an unhinged man. he was so deranged, he didn’t mind the swords and pointed glares directed at him by all that were present and Katsuki, who was fast approaching from behind

— “Get. Away. From. Her!” Katsuki shouted in anger as he drew his sword and slashed at the young man, making you jump back with a gasp.

— “Bakugou!” Kirishima warned as he pulled you into his chest for protection from the clashing of swords

— “Katsuki, be careful!” you cried. confronting someone with such an unstable mind could go horribly wrong and no matter how skilled your fiancee was, you couldn’t help but worry

— Even though this was the first time Katsuki ever showed his feelings for you in such a dramatic gesture, the worry you had for him consumed your joy as his opponent drew out his own sword and started lashing out with worse coordination than your junior knights.

— what he lacked with technique, however, he made up for in agility as well as his own unpredictability. it made it hard for Katsuki to predict the path of his opponent’s sword so for a time, he was constantly dodging his blade. it didn’t take long, however, for the game of endurance and stamina to come into play and slow down his opponent enough for him to fight back with more accuracy.

— “you revolting rat!” Katsuki growled swinging his sword with might only to grind his teeth when his sword is narrowly dodged. not one to give up, however, he goes in once again and finally lands a hit that forces your stalker to crumble to his knees, “you try and pull that shit with (Y/N) again and I’ll be doing more than just beating you to the ground,” it was an obvious win for the blonde.

— “And what would that be?” your stalker still had fight in him that came off as more irritating than anything else Bakugou had ever encountered in his life of servitude as a royal knight and baron’s son.

— just to prove his point, whatever it may be, Katsuki goes to stand beside you and pull you into his chest with his large hand at your waist

— “landing your ugly, disgusting ass in a fucking coffin!” the venom in his voice was evident and it made you shudder, curling up into his chest for comfort, not knowing that the next words he’d shout would have your knees weaker than any training could ever do, “(Y/N) is MY Fiancee! you touch her and I’ll kill you!”

n a v i . | bnha mlist

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #bnha olden days au #bnha fantasy au

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rataltouille · 4 years ago

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GOD COMPLEX: WIP INTRO

[this is my original work, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise in any form]

GENRE: literary fiction; sometimes surrealism / fabulism.

STAGE: drafting / editing / polishing [each story is at a different point]

RECURRING THINGS: unhinged teenagers doing unhinged things. angry queer narrators. brown people with ambiguous religious beliefs. self inserts, you say? what makes you think that?

SO WHAT IS THIS?

good question! i ask that to myself all the time!!

okay so god complex is a collection of ALL my short stories. essentially every single short story i’ve ever written is a part of this project. and because i’m needlessly complicated, this is where things get confusing:

god complex is NOT my first short story collection [said first collection is unnamed and will have 13 select stories].

god complex also includes stories that may go into potential future collection(s).

god complex contains the other stories, ones that will go nowhere for various reasons [most being that they’re just,,, bad].

i made a venn diagram too because i’m insane:

i spent too long on this so you better have understood this mess 😪/j

WHAT CAN YOU EXPECT?

chaos! very fun narratives with extremely experimental and whacky form, told mostly by angry unhinged women!! my first ever cult story!!! [long overdue tbh]

first off i want to talk about the process. as mentioned, this is a wip and is nowhere near completion [so far i’m still in the drafting stage and out of all the short stories i’ve written so far, only four or so of them fit the vibes that i’m beginning to get from collection #1].

second off, considering they're all short stories that will be very different from each other + will be in different stages and drafts, i’ve decided to continue with introing each story with its separate post [like i did with saltwater, helium throat, etc] and then making update posts whenever i’ve got stuff to talk about [like how the editing or whatever’s going]! let me tell you here that editing is hard and my first drafts go through a Lot Of Fun Things so you can see me breakdown live :)

third, i don't work with a set theme and don't really start a collection knowing how it’s going to go. rather, the more i write for it the more it starts to take shape [which is why naming my first collection is so difficult because nothing seems right for it so far]. god complex is so varied that i wouldn't really say it has a “vibe”, but from what i’m planning to put in collection #1 so far, i’m beginning to understand it a bit more, and so far my only conclusion is that it involves unhinged people doing unhinged things [which is kind of my trademark ig], and also reckoning with your past at the Worst Possible Time. also everyone is queer because of course they are what else did you except.

WHAT HAVE I GOT SO FAR?

this list will be updated as i naturally write + more stories.

SALTWATER: narrated by the ocean, we follow a toxic couple as they reach their breaking point and drive into the ocean.

HELIUM THROAT: a bitter woman visits her hometown years after her sister and father’s connected deaths, to meet her estranged mother after she moves into her childhood house.

IT’S GENE MAGIC AND/OR TURPENTINE: a listless college student is called back home mid semester after her entire family dies from mysterious causes, and is left in an empty house with nothing but noisy neighbours, cigarettes and a shoulder demon to keep her company.

and of course wip intros are incomplete without a moodboard so:

that’s essentially the entire vibe of it godbless <3

everything about this project is tagged as god complex, the short story intros as god complex intro and the writing updates as god complex update. you can send me an ask / message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist or have any questions about the project. and that’s about it for now!!

#writeblr #am writing #wip intro #wtwcommunity #crabappletracking #ofcolourtracking #atlastracking #the way i wanted to do an aesthetic intro but instead made whatever the fuck this is...#guys it’s okay i’m insane.jpg #god complex

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spnasylum · 4 years ago

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My notes while listening to Misha’s comments on the podcast: (grab a snack!)

In light of the most recent fandom drama I decided to listen to *that* podcast and take notes as I went along about what was actually said and then give my take on it as objectively as possible. This is basically an essay so strap in!

He complains about not getting a trailer on set that’s the same as Jared and Jensen’s. Even though he has one that can accommodate 3 people. This was the first point of discussion inspired by opening up the interview with a brief chat about Misha currently being in his camper van and how he’s sleeping in it even though he’s still home in Bellingham. The whole hour and 26 minutes has an undertone of complaining and ego stroking by all involved.

Says he’s sad he didn’t get to be there for the final days of filming.

Seems a little nervous about if friendships made during the shows run will last now it’s over.

Admits he has no plan in place or anything coming up career wise and he’s unsure of his future. This is where he brings up Walker and The Boys and says if he had shows like that to go to he wouldn’t feel SPN ending was so monumental. It is said with a slight tone of bitterness.

Side note: the hosts Alaina and Malik seem to be fine with running with the narrative that Misha was part of the show it’s entire 15 year run. Misha clears this up eventually by saying he joined in season 4.

Misha says that he realized about six years ago that SPN could run as “we” wanted it to, implying he has any say in keeping the show going or not. He asserts that he would have been on the show up until the very end in any case. But he didn’t feel that way the first few years he was on the show. So that makes me think something or someone involved gave him the feeling he could be confident in being in the cast for however long SPN aired. Maybe this was after Sera left? Maybe this was when he agreed to a significant pay cut and demotion? Either way it seems he felt SPN = job security.

Misha doubts he’ll have the feeling of job security again.

Says from around age 11 he wanted to be a politician.

Says he saw “successful, untalented” actors and decided “I can do that”. He realized that was naive and it’s actually not easy to be that successful and by the time he got his career going he was basically just in it for the fame it’s not anything he took seriously.

We find out his wife did a doctorate in gender history... for some reason.

That Marilyn Monroe was some sort of baseline for him about creating a public persona (🤷🏽‍♀️) except for getting cosmetic surgery he points out.

Talk about how he got started. Acting classes, improve groups. Moving between Chicago, DC and LA.

Discussion about the differences and similarities between Hollywood and Washington.

States he got a consultant to help him cultivate a fan base and image to connect with an audience after getting on SPN. Admits that was a double edged sword because an anonymous public start thinking that they really know you and things start getting weird.

Mentions trying to find a balancing act of being authentic and having a private life but still keeping your fans.

He admits that the fan base he grew for himself by seeming accessible has caused him to attract people who don’t have any boundaries. This is when he claims the “dialing it back” in regard to how much he shares and mentions his kids specifically as something he doesn’t feel comfortable with putting out there. Uses the word “unhinged” to describe them.

Malik mentions “crazy fans” who seem to know too much about you and finding out where you are etc. Using the example of fans turning up at an airport wanting autographs and you wondering how they even knew you’d be there and what flight you taking. He asks Misha to share experiences about his own crazy fans.

This is when Misha uses the example about having fans who think that when he tweets something out he’s communicating with them personally.

Alaina then says that in the Supernatural fandom people fight each other to protect Jared, Jensen and Misha and it’s “very bizarre”. She volunteered that people think Misha secretly hates Jared and that it’s not true. Not sure why she decided to direct the conversation to a place that would cause drama and give Misha a chance to play victim.

And then...

That’s when he claims that he was public enemy number one with super fans of the show because he’s taking attention away from Jared and Jensen.

That’s when he brings up the alleged organized attack to take down his Facebook account. He says they reported him for... *pauses... claims to not know what. But that whatever it was “Facebook bought it and took it down”. Facebook deleted/deactivated his account but he eventually got it back.

Side note: Facebook (like all social media) have always been bias when it comes to people with leftist views and let them have free reign on the platform. So he must have done something that they would decide to suspend him. I don’t think J2 fans can be blamed for the content he posts and if it violated any ToS. As we know he can post some inappropriate things on social media.

He then brings up the allegations of him taking money out of his organization. Stating it’s “categorically untrue” is all he brings forward as evidence to the contrary.

Side note: I don’t know why then that there’s no receipts or transparency. Why is his mother a beneficiary, why do people who mention he owns Stands get blocked, why set everything up in Delaware and have your for profit and so called non profit interests so entangled etc etc) I guess fans are just supposed to have faith and take his word for it.

He says that ALL of them (Jared, Jensen and himself) have people who hate them in the fandom. But overall the fandom is lovely and supportive of the cast and each other. Makes an attempt at stating there’s no kind of competition or animosity between he and Jared. I think this is like the 3rd or 4th time in the interview either he or Alaina bring up Jared but keep the focus on how Misha is the one facing “character assassination.”

Finally says that all of them have nasty things done to them and they all have had to consult security because of threats to their families etc, doesn’t specify which faction of the fandom that’s coming from. Mentions people filing police reports in the fandom but doesn’t say regarding who or what. Alaina reacts like it’s the first time hearing of this happening. Misha just goes “yeah!” Then they move on to talking about living situations.

Apparently Alaina and Misha were neighbors in LA but didn’t take advantage of that. She doesn’t live in LA anyone, wants a new adventure.

Misha mentions Bellingham is another thing about his future he’s unsure about and how his kids flourished there.

Brings up not being present with his kids even when he’s home because of work and side projects and that the one thing he’s enjoying right now it spending time with them. That he used to operate from a place of guilt because his kids felt like they only have one parent. He and Malik briefly spoke on how their careers have negatively affected their love lives.

Misha says he’s not really involved with Random Acts or running it anymore. (Ummm... what)

He and Alaina discuss Haiti and Nicaragua for a while.

Says he may try to get into directing. Says he likes having creative control. Mentions he likes doing his art installations.

Admits that getting a bit of success made him very entitled and wanting of special treatment. But claims he’s trying to keep that in check (where?) and he’s just like everyone else (well duh!). But he “trades on his celebrity” to get stuff and it makes him feel dirty (I think everyone with any kind of following does that though so nbd)

Talk of how TV/film is more diverse in telling minority stories these days.

Was asked by Malik if he has any kind of chip on his shoulder career wise and Misha says the chip on his shoulder is being bored. But says he needs to work on being more engaged.

He then abruptly wants to end the interview. Saying he has to pick up his kids. Malik wants another question. He asks how Misha has been hurt or healed by his career.

Misha then brings up the movie Karla. Again admitting to becoming more like Paul psychologically irl. But says knowing he has that type of evil in him somewhere (and says that we all have that in us) made him more empathetic to the human condition.

They then say their goodbyes. End of interview.

——

My takeaway. The worst thing he can think to say the people who don’t like him in the fandom did was trolling to get his Facebook deactivated? Also that people can see the suspicious nature of his businesses? It would be really easy to settle that with actually being transparent about the finances, which they aren’t and not having close family as benefactors though. Also, I can only speak for myself. But I never hated him. I actually loved Castiel (before his character was there just to be there in recent seasons and Cass wasn’t Cass anymore. I think Misha’s need to pander to shippers/stay on the show was a great disservice to Castiel and his arc) I was a huge Misha fan, and participated in RA and Gish a lot. I absolutely adored Misha, I led myself to believe he was the most amazing person in the world, obviously that’s the reaction he wanted to cultivate from us. Unfortunately I learned too much, experienced first hand and heard too much to be able to keep cheerleading for him. I feel bad for the people still under the spell of feeling like it’s their job to keep being defensive and unreasonably loyal to someone who you can’t and don’t really know and only have a superficial “relationship” with. Seeing the ever more unhealthy and toxic lengths people feel they need to go to to prop up his ego etc. The constant investment emotionally and financially that goes into it and the “sunk cost” if you let reality in makes it hard to let go I guess. Even he knows that what he’s done to gain and maintain relevance has attracted what he called multiple times an unhinged fan base he has to try and balance without losing his influence. I think he maybe had or has good intentions but his fame hungry drive and narcissistic personality traits win out in the end. The Heller’s seem to have, as always, taken what was said and blown it out of proportion, twisted things and created their own narrative. I do see them using key words from the interview a lot suddenly though to bully for him. So, I guess the dog whistle to the sycophants worked out. I hope that a time comes where they can have a more healthy relationship with the media and public figures they choose to gravitate towards. We can all get over zealous with things but there’s lines that shouldn’t be crossed. For some that seems sadly unlikely. I hope that Misha does indeed one day get himself in check as he calls it and I can feel comfortable to support him again. But so long as he’s being enabled and not held accountable again that seems sadly unlikely. Even though I do occasionally find myself being drawn in by the facade again a little and quickly retreating because the issues remain the same. There is a problematic dynamic in the Supernatural fandom for sure. That’s why for a long time I opted out and just watched the show separately from fandom. It’s why when I found out it was ending I had this odd sense of relief I wasn’t expecting to feel and it made me sad. I hope that now the show has aired its finale we can all reflect on things, hopefully be more self aware and objective and most importantly honest about what really has gone down and why. When things started turning sour there have been plenty of times it could have been nipped in the bud yet wasn’t. People who used this silly yet special show in selfish ways, times when walking away would have been better than sticking around trying to make things and people into something never intended to be, giving into tribalism while claiming we’re a family... for that I think we all hold a little piece of responsibility.

You can listen to it yourself on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0m07her5JUf0JGGtDVohtJ?si=c-RdyZzFQmSzffgNzZhkQg

#anti misha #anti misha collins #misha collins #supernatural #fandom #anti destihellers #strap in its a long one again #opinion #trying to be objective #alaina huffman #malik yoba #anti minions #misha #collins

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neighborhoodparker · 3 years ago

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I posted 13 times in 2021

12 posts created (92%)

1 posts reblogged (8%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.1 posts.

I added 26 tags in 2021

#theredemptionseriesdrafts - 5 posts

#trsdrafts - 4 posts

#neighborhoodparker - 3 posts

#steve harrington - 2 posts

#billy hargrove - 2 posts

#steve harrington x reader - 2 posts

#steve x reader - 2 posts

#steve harrington imagine - 2 posts

#steve imagine - 2 posts

#steve harrington fanfiction - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 27 characters

#steve harrington fanfiction

My Top Posts in 2021

See the full post

22 notes • Posted 2021-09-01 05:18:40 GMT

Just wondering if you have any info on where and when your book will be available? Also, please tell me you’re including peeves, his energy was always a nice part in the books.

So I’m currently packing to move, which was VERY unexpected in my schedule of things and has unhinged my previous timeline 😔. I’m hoping once I get settled in my new place and get everything else sorted out that I can get a timeline out for everyone! But they will be available on wattpad and ao3, I know for sure, and the only monetary expenses that I really ask for are coffee donations on my ko-fi (IF ONLY ABSOLUTELY POSSIBLE AND THE PERSON DONATING IS ABSOLUTELY SURE OF THEIR DECISIONS). The books will be free to access! And yes!! Peeves will for sure be included!!

38 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 16:06:57 GMT

Panacea

Summary:

Months after moving out on your own to a small town by the name of Hawkins (and promptly transferring your school records to Hawkins High), you’ve found yourself as the token girlfriend of the highly-acclaimed Billy Hargrove. You seem to have it all - a hot boyfriend that every girl could only dream of, straight A’s and a golden 4.0 GPA, and not a single parent or guardian to hold you back. But the truth is, dating Billy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You’ve found that it’s lonely - he never shows up when he says he will, tries to pepper up his apologies with bouquets bought last minute from the grocery store down the street from his house, and - almost worst of all - he never even bothers to open up to you. You’ve seen glimpses of his home life, heard stories of what goes on behind closed doors from his younger step-sister on the nights she finds herself on your doorstep, and deep down you know that this relationship isn’t any good for you. People always say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree - and Max knows that Billy is a nuclear bomb set on a path for complete annihilation that will take you out with him once he finally detonates. Enlisting the help of her self-declared “baby-sitter” is all she can think to do - but she knows that Steve Harrington, with his familial history and his too-big-heart, can save you from the Death Zone.

Chapters:

(shitty) short introduction

Extra Scenes:

Inspired Works:

Song Inspiration

40 notes • Posted 2021-07-22 03:04:22 GMT

Panacea [0]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 1,635

Warnings: Mentions of triggering/tough topics - such as abuse, racism, sexual coercion, and overall just toxic relationships. This is a general warning that will accompany every part of this little series.

Summary: The one where you are given an introduction to your story.

Taglist: @sydneekomspacekru

(shitty) short introduction | part 1 | part 2

Roane County in Indiana, otherwise known as Hawkins, was supposed to be your new beginning. It was your way of starting over - of leaving behind your deadbeat father and your dead mother, of purging yourself of the sins of your family. Indiana was a huge change, especially in climate, when it came to your place of origin in middle-of-nowhere Arizona. Admittedly, it took you a while to get used to the colder temperatures - but you did what you’ve always done; you adapted. This was a skill you had to learn from a young age, especially with how poisonous your relationship was with your father. And, thankfully, your adaptive nature enabled you to quietly slip into the social structure that made up Hawkins's High - your extroverted, friendly nature helped as well, gaining you quick traction among the clichés of popularity. It was with ease that you blended in among those in town that held good names; after all, your mother had lived here for the first seventeen years of her life. Even though she had chosen to leave Hawkins all those years ago, you were welcomed back with open arms - and it was like you had lived your entire life within the small square footage that made up the strange town. You have to suppose that a town of this magnitude never truly forgets who it marks as its own.

And, well, it didn’t take long for Hawkins to mark you as one of its own. The ease you had with moving there seemed to infiltrate every aspect of your life. You got good grades - A’s on practically every assignment, quiz, and test, got along well with the teachers and the students, had no difficulties finding a job at the local diner, and you even hit the jackpot with a bewitching significant other. At least, that last part is what every girl in your friend group told you. Now, Billy Hargrove was - in and of himself - a conundrum, to say the least. This was something you had figured out quickly about him; right after he had decided that your welcome to the town from him was his shirtless body hefting your heavy boxes into your new apartment. Before promptly deciding to spend the rest of the evening in the local diner with you, flirting more than you had ever seen a teenage boy do. In a way, you were still set apart from the others. Because you saw behind his façade; you saw behind the flirtation and sex appeal. There was a brokenness that you had only ever seen in one other place, and that was in the eyes that stared back at you when you looked in a mirror. The life he had at home wasn’t good - and your suspicions were confirmed the first night his younger step-sister had showed up to your apartment with him sprawled out in the backseat of his Camaro, with wounds that only could have been inflicted by a man in a drunken rage.

His sister, Max, was another person you had quickly formed a bond with. That night, when she brought Billy to you because she had no other place to take him, she found out just how far your generosity could spread. From that moment forward, after you had patched up the wounds on a moaning Billy, your apartment became a safe haven for the two of them - especially for Max. Every time their house gets too loud or too violent, Max finds her own way to you; a frequent occurrence that caused you to give her your spare key. Unfortunately, though, Billy’s conundrum of an existence only grew bigger after the night you patched him up. Even though you were supposed to be his nepenthe - the one thing that takes away all his pain and sorrows, the one thing that helped him heal - he refused to admit that you did anything to help him. In his mind, it was a weakness he couldn’t afford and - frankly - that never happened. Honestly, you see more of Max these days than you do of Billy. And you’re naïve about it. You think that just because you’re helping Max that you’re helping Billy; you believe that he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want you to be pulled into his horrific domestic life.

You’re naïve because you think you can fix him. You see the broken parts, the fragmented sides of this unhealed child that’s become your boyfriend - and you think that if you give him enough time, enough patience, that he’ll come forward, that he’ll let you help. But he won’t. Because, frankly, Billy Hargrove is past saving. He’s headed down a dark path and you’re only going to be caught in the crossfires. But you don’t know that; not consciously, anyways. He’s never laid a hand on you, so you think that things are okay. You don’t understand that it’s not okay that he doesn’t show up, that he yells at you when he gets mad and doesn’t talk about it after. You think that this is just his way of coping - that it’s different from what you did when you were with your father. And what makes your naivety even worse is that you swore you would never end up in a relationship like your mother. You watched, physical altercation after physical altercation, as your mother became more beaten and more bruised - and you swore, you promised, you vowed, that you wouldn’t become your mother. You broke that. Because you didn’t know that your parents started out the same way that you and Billy did. And as hard as it is to take it in, you are just as doomed as your mother was. You don’t have enough love to spare to put him back together again. But love isn’t what can fix him. Nothing can patch a boy together when he has crevices as empty and deep as Billy.

And this doesn’t begin to touch the things that he does with you that you know are wrong. He’s a very high-driven, sexual person - and this is something that you found out decently quickly once you officially got together. It never mattered if you were in the mood for it or not, you were too focused on trying to meet his needs when he finally told you about them that you didn’t realize just how bad coercion is. You think that you have it good because everyone else is jealous of the intimacy you have with him. You don’t realize that his coercion, his guilt-tripping to get you to please him is just assault. And even though he gets aggressive when you’re in bed, when he bruises you because you’re not doing something the way he likes, you don’t see the red flags. Deep down, you know that the way he treats you is wrong - but he’s never laid a hand on you outside of your private time together, so you think it’s okay. You think what you have is love and that it’ll get better once you get him out of his toxic household, but that’s not true. The abuse he experiences is so profoundly engrained in who he is that the toxicity will only follow him once he leaves. He might get out of the house, might leave behind his asshole of a father, but he is another victim that will fall into the idiom of the apple not falling far from the tree.

That’s just another way in which you and Billy are more similar than most people think. He’s turning out to be just like his father - and you’re heading down the same path that your own mother did; despite all your best attempts to pledge to her gravestone that you’ll be different. Your childhood was spent watching an abusive relationship pave itself; your father was always under the influence of something, whether alcohol or drugs, and it ignited an anger in him that could only be taken out in physical ways on your mother. You spent enough nights hiding in your closet with your blanket and pillow, trying to get away from the sounds of your mother begging and pleading, that you’d think you would know to get out of whatever you have going on with Billy. And one thing that makes you less similar to him, that sets you apart, is how you both coped with the abuse you’ve seen in your homes. You turned to books and school, delving into every interest and hobby that popped up as you grew. You found friends and a way out of the house and hyper-focused on how you would one day get out. But Billy, he turned to other things - like cigarettes and working out and blaring loud music. He found hookups and hyper-focused on how he was one day going to get back at his dad for all the pain, all the suffering, the man had caused him. Perhaps, in a way, you were two opposing sides of a coin - and maybe that was just another thing that added to your naivety about your relationship with him.

You watched as your father, day after wretched day, slowly killed your mother. You watched as she dug her own grave, watched as your father finally - after years of her surviving - put her six feet in the ground. And Max, the girl who’s practically become your own little sister, the girl who would do just about anything to see you get away from her older step-brother, is determined to save you. The way she sees it, your fate is now in her hands - and it’s not something that she, or her “baby-sitter”, will take lightly.

50 notes • Posted 2021-07-23 19:34:17 GMT

Book: Novitious

Word count: 2,191

Summary: Cedric dies. Cho wasn’t the one dating him.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Drabble! A version of this may potentially be seen in the books.

She felt like she had been sitting here for hours. The sleek wood seat underneath her rear had grown uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that no matter how much she shifted she was unable to find peace in her lower back and thighs. At this point, she was nearly ready to burst out of her own skin - her whole body was trembling in anxiousness for Cedric, her Cedric. Amos had long ago given up on trying to comfort the young girl. Instead, he had his own worry plastered across his body - shown in the way his right leg continuously brushed up and down against her left, shown in the worn fingernails he had started chewing on, shown in the way his eyes continuously raked across the hedge mass that filled what was once the Quidditch pitch.

Cedric’s favorite sweater had been pulled over her small frame before they had left the Hufflepuff dormitories to come to the pitch. It was a little big for her, as the sleeves fell past her hands and the left shoulder had slipped down to reveal some of her bare skin. She also had his most favorite, well-worn scarf curled loosely around her neck; he had given it to her as an extra way to keep her calm. The way his scent engulfed her from the clothes did take an edge off of her consuming anxiety, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. She knew that something was wrong. Her gut was continuously twisting in on itself, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She swore her heart was beating millions of beats per minute - she almost felt sick from how hot her skin was growing. In an effort to cook herself down, she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. Her eyes made contact with Amos as she looked at him for the billionth time in the past ten minutes alone.

“He’ll be okay.” Amos whispered, offering her a shaky smile.

She wasn’t sure if he entirely believed the words he was saying to her. His whole posture screamed unease, and the glistening in his eyes was telling her that he felt the same undeniable sense of horror bubbling very deep within his bones. She took a deep, soft breath before forcing herself to return the smile. It felt awkward and out of place on her lips; she knew now wasn’t the time for such pleasantries. She shifted once more, leaning her right side into Neville’s left. He offered her a quick squeeze of her opposing shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed on the hedge looming in front of them. She had to assume the reason she was so anxious was because of everyone around her. Her empathic tendencies were making it way worse than it needed to be. Cedric would be fine. She didn’t think Dumbledore would want to risk losing someone so kind, so good, so strong. He would want him when the war she knew was on the horizon finally collapsed upon their reality.

Her hand found Neville’s, lacing their fingers together. She had been continuously going back and forth between holding his hand, leaning against him for comfort - and offering her own shoulder for Amos to briefly lean against as new waves of anxiety drowned over him. She had lost track of where her boyfriend was in the maze a while ago; if she was asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he and Harry had disappeared within the misshapen claws of the final Triwizard Tournament task.

After she had grasped his hand, trying not to hold it too tightly, she managed to steal a glance of two forms appearing outside of the maze. Her view was then obscured by the sudden movement of everyone around her; their various builds jumping to their feet in lieu of celebratory noises. The music began to play, but she couldn’t fight the panic that began to build in her chest. It bubbled quickly. It simply started around her heart as it constricted, inching down inside her before it slammed into her lungs - taking all air out of her body as her diaphragm was soon swallowed by what she could only recognize as dread. It quickly spread after, making every inch of her body feel numb. She was caught off-guard; she wasn’t sure why she was experiencing such hysteria. Another deep breath filled her lungs as she noticed Amos was trying to get through the horde that kept him stuck by his seat.

Her body went to follow, but was quickly pulled to a halt. Neville was gripping her hand in a fashion that almost hurt. She met his eyes with confusion - he was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, like it was a mixture. Dumbledore was yelling at Harry in the background. Every sound made it clear to her that she had been shoved under water, that she was on the verge of drowning in something she hadn’t yet discovered. She realized, with shock, that the emotions he was showing were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and distress. He discovered something she didn’t. Her eyebrows furrowed as she went to follow Amos again and his grip tightened, preventing her from moving.

“Nev, are you crazy? Let me go,” She tugged her arm. “Cedric’s there.”

“Isobel, you can’t go down there.” He stated.

“Neville, let me go.” She pulled against him again, starting to give him a glare.

“Is…” He trailed off.

“Neville. Let. Me. Go.” She demanded.

Her attention was drawn away from him for a split second, allowing her to see as the crowd around her paused - almost as if they were all involuntarily holding in the same exact breath. He seemed to grip even tighter on her wrist - and she cried out in response. He was trying to keep her from seeing something traumatizing, but was hurting her in the process. She could almost feel the regret of it oozing out of his body.

“You’re hurting me.” She almost growled, starting to become hysteric as she tried to pull away from him. ”Neville, please let go.”

He refused, but it didn’t matter. In the next second, screams from Amos were filling the air - letting everyone know his anguish in something that had to do with his son. She slammed her foot against Neville’s groin without even thinking. She jerked her hand back as he doubled over in pain but she didn’t stay to make sure he was okay. Her body moved on it’s own as she shoved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get down the stands, down to where she had briefly seen the outline of Cedric and Harry.

Someone was calling her name. She couldn’t tell who it was in her state of pure alarm, but if she had glanced back she would have seen Neville moving to grasp Draco’s arm - to hold him back from running to her. It was difficult to get through the mass of students, almost like they were all attempting to block her from getting down to the Diggorys. She could hear the older man sobbing, and she knew that the feeling she had in her gut since she had said goodbye to him wasn’t a mistake. Something awful, terrible, wretched had happened out in the maze.

She finally broke through the horde, and all anyone could hear was a loud, awful, gut-wrenching shriek. Laying there, in his father’s arms, was the first person she had really loved with her whole heart. And he was pale. Lifeless. His eyes stared blankly at the sheet of stars above him, his chest giving no movement. His father was clinging to him like he was the only thing still anchoring him to the world. The grief she felt yanked her forward; it made her legs collapse, her lungs stall, her eyes widened. She was caught by the rough embrace of someone - nearly taking both of them down to the ground with the blunt force of her anguish. She barely recognized that it was Harry as he pulled her into his chest. He tried to hide her from the heart-breaking sight in front of her - even though he knew it would forever be etched in her mind.

Suddenly she was seven years old again, breaking as Draco’s arms held her. Suddenly, she was back in the home she hadn’t seen in months - back in the manor that she had lost so much of her childhood to. Draco was holding her tightly, almost like he was scared she would sink through the floor and disappear if he didn’t try to hold all of her pieces together. Suddenly, it was her mother splayed out on the marble floor, her spiritless body outlined by a growing crimson puddle. She wasn’t fifteen, collapsed on the field of a Quidditch pitch in the arms of Harry. She was at home, witnessing the cruelty of her father; witnessing her world crashing down around her. She was experiencing a pain she thought nothing could ever beat. Her sobs were filling the large foyer of her father’s home, echoing throughout the empty space that was just so previously filled with screams from her mother, that was filled with Draco begging her to stay back with him.

And it didn’t matter if she was fifteen or seven. Because her heart broke all the same. The pain in her chest was immense, vast, monumental. It engulfed her. Her heart had been seized out of her chest and thrown at the ground, just before it was stomped, crushed, pulverized underneath the cruel heel of life. She shattered as her brain filtered through a long list of everything she would never get to see through with Cedric, filtered through the myriad of things his father would never live to see, filtered through the life they one day could have had. And she was that fifteen year old collapsed on the pitch. She was the fifteen year old girl struggling to stay afloat as her grief threatened to drown her. She was the fifteen year old girl who had just lost the one thing that had seen her through her darkest moments.

There she was, wishing the same blond-haired boy was there holding her as her whole world churned, tumbled, disintegrated. But she had a brown-haired boy instead, one with uncontrollable locks and teary eyes hidden behind crooked frames. She took what she was given, accepted that she had lost that blond-haired boy two years ago, accepted that she had Harry. She forced her hands to relieve their tight grip on his jersey before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly to his shaking form. He was crying right along with her and she wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him and reassure him that everything would eventually be okay. But she didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t. She didn’t believe that they would be okay again. Cedric was a loss to the Wizarding World. He was a loss that she didn’t know that she could bounce back from, that anyone could bounce back from. He was a lively, beautiful soul that had offered her a safe haven - he had given so many people hope that things would turn out okay.

Instead, Harry was here - comforting the girl who was always there for other people. It broke her even more to think of how she was failing to help those she loved, but she couldn’t calm herself down enough to help him out. Her chest was still heaving with panic and, though the tears had stopped, her shoulders still shook from the force of now silent sobs. She was terrified that he would let her go, that he would help her back to her dorm and leave her alone. She didn’t want to be left alone; she hadn’t been since she had first met Cedric, since she had moved in with Sirius. She couldn’t handle this loss. She didn’t know what would happen if she was left alone.

“Harry, do you think you could carry her? Let’s clear the area. We’ve already got most of the audience out.” A rough, cracking voice spoke up - pulling her attention away from her screeching thoughts.

She only moved to cling more securely to Harry, squeezing her eyes closed as the owner of the voice pulled them off the ground. She didn’t want to get another glimpse of Cedric. It was already carved into her brain. It took her far too long to process that the voice belonged to Mad-Eye Moody, but she didn’t care. She was more worried that Harry would decide she was okay alone and would leave her. Even so, she was more worried about the feeling of dread growing once again in her stomach. It was almost unsaid between the two of them that they knew that Cedric’s death marked the beginning of the war. This would only be the first of many deaths that would completely alter her existence.

53 notes • Posted 2021-08-22 03:38:54 GMT

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#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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myhahnestopinion · 4 years ago

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THE AARONS 2020 - Worst Film

Social distancing can be emotionally draining, so let’s practice. Here’s a list of things to stay far, far away from, and you’ll feel much better for it. Here are the Aarons for Worst Film:

#10. The Grudge

The Grudge didn’t have much good-will from the get-go: the franchise’s timeline-shifting gimmick has long been a distinctive element devoid of any tension. Even with the presence of Lin Shaye and John Cho among them, the multiple eras of eerie occurrences never shake the sense of existing only out of obligation. The scares are equally as perfunctory; The Grudge startles, but doesn’t leave a mark. Director Nicolas Pesce and producer Sam Raimi just can’t bring any life back to the series. Then again, it never housed much spirit to begin with; we shouldn’t hold it against them.

#9. Scoob!

For the first time in its 50 year history, the franchise begged a different question: Scooby-Dooby-Doo, why are you doing this? Scoob! is one of the most depressing examples of modern-minded corporate synergy, dead set on resurrecting IP no matter how ghoulish the results. The film feigns detective work, but unmasks itself early as a superhero story, breaking up the gang to promote the likes of Blue Falcon and Captain Caveman, Hanna-Barbera characters that barely built up an audience back in the day, without ever solving the mystery of why audiences should care. Its most baffling crime? Shaggy traps himself in Hell to save the day (no, not kidding…). Zoinks, Scoob!, indeed.

#8. Fantasy Island

I’m afraid one can never leave Fantasy Island! For you must see your fantasy through to its natural conclusion, but the movie doesn’t offer one, hinging entirely on a rubbish plot twist. The horror reimagining of the ‘70s TV show is all-around cheap, inviting a new group of people to live out their dreams on the mysterious locale without much spectacle or imagination. A bizarre reintroduction of classic character Tattoo is the only thing that leaves an impression. The mismatched tones of the various adventures routinely washes away any tension from the film, stranding the wannabe franchise without any fans to see.

#7. Brahms: The Boy II

There was fun to be had in Annabelle Comes Home and the Child’s Play remake in 2019, but Brahms: The Boy II has the haunted doll genre feeling entirely played out. It certainly didn’t help that the film seemed unsure what toys were even in its sandbox; the sequel retcons supernatural origins into the series, but the doll’s antics didn’t become any more animated. Katie Holmes is the latest lead led around aimlessly as The Boy conjures expressions in audiences as vacant as his own. It was hard to imagine someone making a horror film more dull than the original, which also made this list years ago, but, boy, does Brahms make it look too easy.

#6. Dolittle

If we could talk to the animals, they’d tell us to walk away from the latest Dolittle adaptation. Robert Downey Jr. got his post-Iron Man career off on the wrong paw as the eponymous doctor, who sets sails with his creature companions to find a cure for the Queen’s illness. The voyage is on rocky water from the very beginning, mating footage together from three different directors, and trying to rear wonder out of its lackluster CGI creations. If the climax of your hopeful-epic is pulling a set of bagpipes out of a dragon’s ass, don’t be surprised when the result is similarly crappy.

#5. Followed

Followed asks viewers to just go along with a lot of scuzziness, but you’re better off if you don’t subscribe. Truthfully, it’s unclear how much of the found-footage film, comprised of a vlogger staying in a haunted hotel, is actually meant as satire. Even if one excuses the bad acting as commentary on YouTubers’ artificiality, knowing that the premise shamelessly exploits a real world tragedy is hard to block out. Ultimately though, the content can’t get viewers to care much one way or the other. When chasing a smart, scary social-media series, you’re better off unfriending Followed, and following the Unfriended films instead.

#4. Holidate

Watching Holidate made bringing a random stranger home for every 2020 holiday seem wise in comparison. Like most of the rom-coms Netflix presents viewers with, Holidate wraps itself up in a marketable convenience to disguise its shoddy, shallow inside. Stars Emma Roberts and Luke Bracey bump uglies with all the vulgarness of that phrase and all the enthusiasm of a Barbie and Ken doll being bashed together. The two trudge through a series of increasingly irrelevant holidays for a date before a requisite rom-com end back at Christmas, just when you thought a year couldn’t feel like more of a chore to get through.

#3. A Nice Girl Like You

Lucy Hale can get some… Get some more entries on this Worst Of list, that is! The Fantasy Island star plays a woman determined to no longer be scared by her fantasies with the help of a sexual to-do list in this film. Hale puts the “Girl” in “Nice Girl,” being entirely too young for the movie’s material, based on a middle-aged memoir, to stimulate any meaning. The central list, meanwhile, arouses mostly confusion and incredulity at the choices included. Too lifeless to let loose, Nice Girl ends up being really bad, just not in the way it had hoped.

#2. Artemis Fowl

Even with limited releases to be had, Artemis Fowl captured that good old Disney magic for always managing at least one annual unmitigated disaster. Their adaptation of the best-selling children’s novel lacks both a criminal, with a watered-down Fowl for the Disney-demographic, and a mastermind, with no one involved seeming to have re-read the book since its original publication 20 years ago. The greatest of Artemis’ fouls is Josh Gad’s Mulch Diggums, a dwarf who unhinges his jaw like a snake to dig tunnels, farting out the dirt behind him. Then again, it’s an apt-metaphor for a company determined to swallow every IP possible just to crank out crap.

AND THE WORST FILM OF 2020 IS...

#1. After We Collided

After two Afters, it’s clear that the one direction the franchise is following is down. Rest assured, the only steaminess from this R-rated sequel to 2018’s young-adult romance is the continued gaslighting in its central relationship. The ongoing exploits of Tessa Young and Hardin Scott remain far removed from any fantasy; even looking beyond the nauseating toxicity, the series has a dreadful failure of imagination (The author’s own self-insert only aspires to being an intern at a publishing company.) The secret to the film’s appeal, as far as I can tell, seems to come only by watching After We Collided after you collide your head with a concrete wall.

NEXT UP: THE 2020 AARON FOR BEST DIRECTOR!

#film #TheAarons #TheAarons2020 #TheAaronsFilm #worst of 2020 #bad movies #worst film #the grudge #scoob #fantasy island #brahms the boy II #dolittle #followed #holidate #a nice girl like you #artemis fowl #after #after we collided

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sinbinfamiliar · 4 years ago

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I don’t exactly want to defend Dabi’s actions. No he did some pretty bad shit that like... it ain’t okay. One might say he only did this because hero society completely ruined his chance at receiving ANY help. Which is what I like to think personally.

But the fans that are out here shaming people for wishing Dabi was more emotionally driven? Caring about natsuo? Some of the LoV? I don’t see why you have to literally shame fans who want this. Sure it’s probably not happening. But here’s the thing...

Fanon can sometimes be better and a loooot better the canon. Much more.... Well written sometimes even. Just because canon Dabi is saying he doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone, doesn’t mean fanon isn’t there to actually add depth to his character. A lot of the writing is detrimental to what’s already been stated before as well. Lemme explain.

Canon Dabi: raised in a household that is being shown as not as abusive as it was(from Enji’s view mostly via flashbacks), ‘died’ at some point somehow but don’t know how her, he is manipulative, doesn’t care about anyone but his own cause, wants to ruin hero society in whatever way possible. This is what canon Dabi boils down to at this point which is far from the depth you’d want. Now... fanon Dabi.

Fanon dabi: raised in a household where abuse both emotional and physical is common. Proof of this from other family members and NOT just Enji’s perspective. Grew up on his own without any actual help, living presumably on the streets. No mental help or medical help ever at all was given to him during his time with his family or after. Became manipulative in nature to get what he wants, because it’s been proven that’s the only way to get through hero society. May actually have cared about certain people, natsuo, some LoV characters perhaps, but over time has gotten more and more mentally unhinged to a point of breaking. He now at this point in the arc, is not what or who he normally was. He is mentally unstable and running on the logic to die and fuck everything up that he hated. He doesn’t care how anymore.

Please tell me that canon and fanon have a lot of differences via actual character depth. I’m not saying Dabi is a uwu soft boi, I’m jsut saying he isn’t being given the proper actual nuances and depth he honestly deserves. Especially when the story is skewing it in such a way lately where Enji DIDNT do anything wrong. And he deserves better. Just because Shouto has the ability to move on, but not forgive completely(which is most definitely thanks to his peers who have acted as his mental help for his trauma), Dabi doesn’t have to. He has no reason to what so ever think this. He is emotionally unstable as fuck. And I don’t know why people seem to insist on shaming fans who want him to be more them a one note ‘I’m a psychopath’ character.

Don’t get off on shaming others for adding depth to something that doesn’t have it there in its source. Fanon exists for this very reason. So stop being toxic and saying it’s stupid to give a character depth and emotional nuances that we want to have there.

#dabi #touya todoroki #bnha 292 #manga spoilers

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microsuedemouse · 4 years ago

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hhhhhhhhhhhhhwoof I hate fandom/ship drama

anyway I’ve been thinking about how. there is nothing, inherently wrong,, with being interested in exploring ships (or even non-romantic/non-sexual character dynamics!) that are unhealthy in-universe.

here’s something: there is value in recognising that a ship is unhealthy or toxic or abusive or whichever other descriptor you feel fits best. (I am going to be using ‘unhealthy’ as my umbrella word in this post; obviously it’s an understatement to call an abusive relationship ‘unhealthy’ but it’s still accurate and it encompasses the variety of things I’m talking about.) there is value in taking that as fact and acknowledging such in whatever exploratory work you may choose to create or engage in.

I wanna take a second here to clarify part of what I mean: it is not inherently wrong to enjoy an unhealthy ship, and you are not required to defend a ship as healthy/‘not abusive’ in order to justify your interest in it. this is a very weird result, imo, of purity culture and virtue signalling. when you have a healthy understanding of the difference between fiction and reality, and a recognition of what’s acceptable in reality and what’s compelling in fiction, it’s actually very worth exploring what interests and engages you about Fictional Bad Things.

you know that phenomenon where people love villains? a lot of discourse around purity culture naturally leads to the conclusion: “it is wrong to like villains.” most of us are capable of recognising that this... doesn’t make sense. because obviously, we aren’t - or at least, the great majority of us aren’t - claiming that we would like and support this person in reality, or that we would be entirely comfortable with the deeds they commit if those deeds took place in reality. we’re saying that the character appeals to and compels us for some reason, within fiction. that’s a different thing - and it’s usually a sign of good writing! it’s very worth exploring that experience: what about this villain makes you like them so much? what about them makes them relatable to you, or sympathetic to you, or perhaps even cathartic to you? these kinds of questions can offer both entertainment value and, possibly, some new insights into yourself as a person. those insights might turn out to be interesting and meaningless, or they might provide you with new ways to express yourself, or they might even offer you a new avenue for growth.

(moral purity often also extends to the conclusion ‘you shouldn’t enjoy stories in which the main character suffers, because it’s wrong to enjoy someone’s pain.’ we all know this makes no sense, because that includes most stories. a major reason human beings tell stories is to share in the emotional journey of a protagonist ultimately overcoming great obstacles. but anyway, this is a whole other issue, really.)

what I’m getting at is - the same can apply to ships. there are a few approaches to unhealthy ships, and I wouldn’t go so far as to say they stand on equal moral ground, but there are a variety of ways you might be able to explore them without it making you an inherently evil person, or whatever. it’s also worth noting that while, obviously, I’m expressing here what aligns with my moral position and encouraging you to think similarly - but, I also encourage you to think critically about your own moral positions. decide what is comfortable for you, and what feels right to engage with. it’s fine and it’s normal to draw your own lines in the sand and say, this is where the range of acceptable ends for me. I won’t support or engage with what’s on the other side.

to give a quick overview of some approaches I’m not as comfortable with: sometimes you’ll find a writer/artist/other fan who likes to depict a ship as totally healthy in a way that can only be described as out-of-character. sometimes this seems to be a denial of the actuality of the ship; I don’t like that so much because it’s often a refusal to acknowledge that their canonical behaviour/dynamic is bad. other times this is depicted as a sort of AU; this doesn’t bother me quite as much personally (often depending on what the writer’s overall attitudes seem to be) but it’s also often less interesting to me. in my experience, this is usually very self-indulgent work and has a lot more to do with the writer’s own experiences than with canon itself. which is fair, honestly. sometimes that’s cathartic for the writer and that’s enough - I don’t have to be into it personally to respect it.

another thing that crops up that’s kind of worrisome, imo, is when a writer/artist/etc. depicts the ship as in-character but denies that it’s unhealthy. now, in fairness, if you’re simply reading a fic or looking at a piece of fanart or something, you cannot always tell exactly how the creator thinks the ship actually operates. not everyone is always going to include a disclaimer that says ‘hey I don’t think this is actually Good.’ so try not to immediately ascribe intent to the writer/etc. unless you’ve seen them state outright somewhere: this isn’t abuse, it’s just cute! (or whatever it is they’re seeing.) at that point it is worth being concerned about what this person thinks constitutes a healthy relationship, and if you don’t feel good about supporting their work that’s entirely fair.

HOWEVER. there are also other approaches. two in particular stand out to me that I think are worth discussing. one is simply exploring the possibilities of an unhealthy relationship, with total acknowledgement of its flaws. one unhealthy dynamic that I admittedly find really engaging a lot of the time? ‘these two characters are Very obsessed with each other, and it sure ain’t healthy psychologically, but it’s definitely mutual.’ I love that shit. gimme a couple of unhinged, incredibly codependent pieces of shit, and you have my full attention. particularly if they’re on equal footing - if they’re damaging one another, it’s reciprocal, or at very least they’re both getting exactly what they want out of the relationship. obviously this would not be a dynamic I could support in real life! that’s terrible and I don’t want anyone to go through it! but in fictional characters it can be fascinating to explore. and if the content is going to upset or trigger certain fans: that’s why we use tags and warnings. AO3, where many of us go for a huge amount of our fan content, literally has a whole system in place for precisely this purpose: so we can let each other know what’s inside, and make informed choices about what we want to consume.

the other common approach is the redemption arc. it’s always gonna be up to you which characters you consider redeemable and which ones you don’t - that’s okay. again, it’s your choice what content to engage and what to pass over. but as people we’re traditionally very fond of the redemption arc story, and as fans we love to create the redemption arcs our favourite characters don’t get to live out in canon. because we love something about the character and want to explore them further. like I said earlier, that in itself is worth giving some thought to. sometimes we’ll even end up writing partial redemptions: this character goes from totally reprehensible to kind of appealingly awful. the ship goes from abusive to a much more regular level of fucked up. that can definitely be an interesting story in itself, and it’s okay if you want to explore it.

the main thing is that you always exercise your ability to think critically about what you’re consuming and why you like it - which, honestly, you should be trying to do all of the time, anyway. be clear about what you do and don’t endorse, about what your actual values are, about where you draw the line. (as both an example and a disclaimer, since I know I still have followers from A Certain Fandom where this cropped up a lot before I mostly dipped: one line that I personally draw, and always will, is at ships involving an adult and a literal child. I am not comfortable with exploring this even in the hypothetical space of fan content. it is too objectionable to be compelling.)

go forth. explore your unhealthy ships and shitty favourite characters. experiment and learn why they compel you. write properly-labelled fanfic about them hurting each other and loving it. just remember that everyone has different boundaries, and that fiction and reality are very separate spaces. acknowledge that what you’re enjoying is not inherently right or acceptable in real life just because you enjoy it in a story, and it doesn’t have to be. if you’re a content creator, consider portraying these things in such a way that your audience is well aware of your position on the matter, in order to help them also understand what is and isn’t healthy. be a ruthless writer and a kind person, and you’ll do just fine.

#this got SO long jesus christ #anyway there's a reason I no longer go into ship tags or engage heavily with meta fandom #I like just throwing my fic over the fence and then scuttling away #long post #fandom #shipping

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bellamygateoldblog · 5 years ago

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how do we feel about bellamy abandoning a suicidal octavia in a toxic forest in the name of monty, 'monty gave his life for us so we could have another change, and im not going to let you destroy it' who repeatedly made it clear in his final season that he wished he did more to save jasper

…we don’t feel great about it. Lol.

Got a little carried away. Apparently I had a stronger opinion on this on this than I thought I did.

There’s an LT;DR at the bottom if you don’t feel like reading the whole thing :)

The Blake relationship is a really complicated one. And I think how you see this event in particular depends on how you interpret this dynamic during the rest of the show, and how sympathetic you are towards Octavia as a character.

I want to start with this: the second chance was Monty’s to give, and only Monty’s. Bellamy doesn’t get to dictate who that message does and does not apply to, because Monty made it perfectly clear he holds no grudges, and wants the best for what’s left of the human race regardless of who they’ve been in the past or what they’ve done. That’s the whole point of ‘doing better’. He just wants everyone to do better than they did, whichever way that is. Monty didn’t specifically say ‘oh but not Octavia she can choke’ so therefore Bellamy had no right to be cowering behind Monty’s words.

He’s telling them to try a bit harder to be more understanding, compassionate, and rational. He wants them to choose to be farmers rather than warriors- to rebuild rather than destroy, to grow rather than deforest, to choose peace over war no matter what. It means a lot more than just ‘hey! maybe don’t go on another genocidal rampage?’

And by abandoning/banishing Octavia, Bellamy did the opposite of what Monty wanted. It almost felt, as i was watching, like he’d sentenced her to death. Like Clarke was banishing Murphy all over again. Or like he was Clarke abandoning him to die in the fighting pits. And I don’t know…repeating old mistakes doesn’t exactly scream ‘doing better’ to me.

Maybe this was Bellamy’s way of ridding the toxicity from the group?

But deciding she’s a lost cause and leaving her there, a clearly mentally unstable woman (and not only just some ‘woman’, but the baby sister he’s shared his life with), on an alien planet that none of them even know is safe at this point, or if it’s inhabited with hostile entities, from some moral high horse/manpainTM point of view is so low. It’s unearned at this point in the series.

Our attention was drawn to how hard it was for him. How upset he was after he did it. Rather than to Octavia and how she felt about it. It brought me back to that moment in season five, to how the camera focused in on Clarke’s pained teary-eyed expression while the child she was electrocuting was a blurry spot the background. Just what the fuck? Is all i have to say about that. He was very much Clarke in this moment; pulling a lever, leaving someone he loves on the outside *for the people* and feeling a bit ashamed but justified about it regardless.

She was trying to do the S1 Bellamy thing and stowaway to an alien planet to protect the one she loved. But the emotional fallout of season five was immense and both of them were way too amped up for any of it to go as planned. Which makes me wonder why the writers even attempted it in the first place?

But let’s just take a minute to think about how reckless and borderline insane this whole decision is from Bellamy- this is the girl who started out an illegal child, unwanted by the people she was born into, who assimilated with the indigenous people, earned their respect, found belonging with them until ultimately she became their leader. Like, if you really thought she was this much of a hazard, throwing her adaptive ass into the wilderness ready to meet another set of warrior people maybe isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had?

HOWEVER

I’m not actually opposed to a detail like this. Because of the unhealthy and sometimes poisonous nature of the Blake sibling relationship. And because they both absolutely needed time apart if Octavia were ever to grow out of Blodreina.

No matter what Monty never gave up on Jasper. But Jasper was usually self-destructive and didn’t act out emotionally using violence like how Octavia does so naturally. He could be a pain in Monty’s ass from time-to-time, but Jasper was never a threat to anyone but himself.

Bellamy cast Octavia out because she killed those guards unnecessarily. She hadn’t yet reflected on what became of her, nor had she processed any of the trauma from the bunker and following battle for Eden, in which some of the heaviest casualties were her most important relationships, with Indra, and with Bellamy. As convinient as it was to utilise violence as a tool for maintaining power, law, and order within the bunker…they aren’t in the bunker anymore, and she is no longer someone with a crushing responsibility.

Was any of that Bellamy’s fault? No.

Was it Bellamy’s job to ‘fix’ her? No.

(Do I think Monty would encourage him to mend their relationship anyway after losing his best friend and brother? Yes.)

But as her big brother and psudo-father, someone that spent his entire life protecting and taking care of her, the bare minimum i’d expect from him in a situation like this is for him to show some empathy, listen to the whole story from her point of view rather than basing his entire livelyhood on the biased accounts of a couple of Wonkru defectors, and make an attempt to understand why she is no longer the baby sister he remembers her being. If anyone was in the position to understand her- her behaviour, her mindset, the weight of leadership and how it shapes a person, and the pressure of making potentially morally corrupt decisions to ensure the people’s safety putting your humanity on the line for it- it’s him.

This was just cheap drama in place of where they could’ve written a meaningful conflict between them.

It was an oppurtunity to address Octavia’s past treatment of him, their co-dependence, their mother, Bellamy deeply believing his life was stolen from him and Octavia feeling she never had a chance to begin with, Bellamy’s inclination to make himself smaller so Octavia can take up as much space as she possibly can, both of their perverse insecurities that manifest in equally debilitating ways, Bellamy’s skewed sense of self pushing him to orbit around her, Octavia’s identity issues and lack of socialisation and resulting narrow black-or-white mindset, I could go on and on. There’s so so much content here to explore. There’s so much stress and pain in this relationship. It’s a shame that despite all that they decided to go omg cannibalism!!!!!!!!

Octavia took forever to forgive Bellamy for what happened to Lincoln, she demonised him, she attacked him over it in one of the most grotesque and unhinged displays of violence i’ve ever seen, and that wasn’t even his fault. I think we can afford Bellamy the same amount of room.

If this ‘banishment’ was the long-time-coming storm of past trauma of their intertwined existences that has long since been buried, if the time of physical peace spent on the ring building a family of his own pushed Bellamy to make a realisation or two about love and family, and the stressful draining qualities of his relationship with Octavia began to morph into resentment of her, and all this abandonment is, is just a beautifully crafted, carefully maintained facade collapsing between them, I WOULD LOVE IT. It’s understandable. But I need to see them have it out with each other first. If nothing is addressed, if they still go on carrying those things around and never find closure, not only is that hindering Octavia’s growth, but Bellamy’s, too.

But none of that happened in season six. Instead i got to see yet another female with her autonomy ripped from her and i got to see manpain.

Over time she supressed any parts of herself that would make her appear weak. It was always going to take time to pull herself out of that dark place and find a way to shape an identity that isn’t based in something that can easily be ripped away from her. So removing her from the group to find ‘the self’ is a good choice. But it had to be her choice.

I think if everything had blown up and Octavia had chosen to leave on her own volition because she recognises her own tragedy and calamity and wants to do what’s right, it would’ve been the perfect place to begin a redemption/reflection arc for her. With self-awareness. What do they say? The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one in the first place?

In an answer to another ask I said it would make some sense for Bellamy (and Clarke & Spacekru) to be unintentionally hypocritcal and judgemental considering the time distance between their last violent experience and how long they’ve had to make peace with the past. While Octavia was in the most stressful position she’s ever been in, and right in the thick of things for the six years that everyone else spent healing and maturing in.

So we have Bellamy as his most reassurred, most contented self- and he comes to Earth, he comes face-to-face with an unhinged Octavia, and is overwhelmed immediately with biased and incomplete information recapping the last six years during an erratic situation with enemies. I’d be confused and paranoid, too tf?

Bellamy loves Octavia more than life. But she’s morphed into a woman he no longer recognises and it could even come as a personal betrayal to him. He’s been disconnected from her for six years. He’s no longer intoxicated by his love and devotion to her. And he’s having a hard time accepting that the baby sister he thinks the world of is capable of such cruelty. So he’s having trouble forgiving her for it. I think it makes a lot of sense. Except, again, they never addressed anything like this.

Season five Bellamy I get. I’m sympathetic to him just as I am Octavia.

But in season six he appeared, not like he was acting on years of supressed emotional turmoil, but like he was on some moral high horse looking down on her from it.

The end of season five left things open, and there was a lot of potential there for things between them to improve, but season six took it and threw it out the nearest window. And we saw Octavia crawling on her hands and knees begging for forgiveness from a man that 1) doesn’t want her, 2) doesn’t respect her, 3) refused to listen to her, and 4) only accepted her once she was the woman he wanted her to be, who was now no longer traumatised.

TL;DR: I’m not opposed to the whole idea of them seperating in season six, with Octavia being the castaway, but it should’ve been Octavia’s choice, not Bellamy’s. And I think Monty might be disappointed that this was what (season six) Bellamy took away from his video on ‘doing better’. To ‘do better’ he decided to choose just one person that can represent all the evil that exists within both his people and himself and throw her out the dropship door. Problem solved! But there are many ways in which I think the writers could’ve done a lot more with this idea, and a lot better, too.

#hopefully this i objective I tried to make it so #the 100 #octavia blake #pro octavia blake #bellamy blake #rosie tag: share with the group #took me a couple days to answer so i hope whoever sent it will see

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paullahotes · 5 years ago

Text

Incalescent- Chapter One

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!OC

Summary: Em just wants to be loved and have a family for once in her life. But nothing has ever gone right in her life before so why should it now?

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: some violence and shitty writing

A/N: Listen, I don’t think I’m a good writer so bare with me this could be terrible! Let me know what you guys think of it!

People say the only thing guaranteed in life is death but for me that's a lie. I had only been on this earth for twenty-three years and I knew death would never come for me, at least not a natural one. The only thing guaranteed for me was the all consuming loneliness and disappointment that seemed to only get worse as each year ticked away.

Sometimes it would hit me that this was my life forever. The thought alone could suck me into a blackhole of despair, my chest tightening and my lungs fighting to get oxygen. I was thankful this never happened in front of anyone, I could always pull myself out of it before I had to explain anything to my dad.

My father was just as tense as he usually was with his hands gripping the steering wheel, driving us to our new home. I had lost count over the years how many times we moved, it felt like so many that it would be impossible to even count to the number anyway. With every new place we moved came even more distance between us.

Nothing was ever the same, the only thing the same was my father. He hadn’t changed at all since my first memory of him, no wrinkles on his face or grey peeking through his carefully coiffed hair. He was the reason we had to move all the time, he had been doing so for about three hundred years before I made my appearance in the world. After being in the same town for a couple years, people began to question how he never seemed to age, coupling that with the uneasiness people felt around him we always had to move.

Keeping our secret was the only way to survive in the world. We wanted to be civilized, living in a house, having a job or in my case continuously going to school and hunting animals instead of humans. We had met others like us, more so like him, over the years of us traveling the world and they were practically unhinged. They never seemed to care about human life, their beady red eyes darting around looking ready to drain every last drop of an innocent without a second thought.

Meeting other vampires were few and far between, thankfully. My father always made sure to sniff out the town, literally, before moving to it. Vampires who had red eyes were very territorial, their hunting grounds not something to mess with. Even with us explaining we didn’t hunt humans they wanted nothing to do with us but it was fine because we didn’t want to deal with them either. It had only happened twice when I was still little and my dad had moved us to a new town right away.

I understood why we had to move all the time, especially lately with how me and my dad looked the same age. There was no way he could pass for more than a few years as my dad and even that was pushing it. I just didn’t understand his intolerance of me, he tried his hardest not to talk too much with me or have a deeper relationship that I had seen other fathers have with their daughters. Years of my life I felt had been wasted trying to get him to do anything fatherly with me, I had never even heard him say ‘I love you’ to me.

“We’re almost there,” He muttered quietly to me, if I didn’t have vampire hearing I wouldn’t have caught it. I side eyed him and found he was looking at me wearily, his dark golden eyes became emotionless once again after a minute. I pulled my cardigan tighter to my body and crossed my arms, letting out a small huff. As we passed by a sign that said ‘Welcome to Forks’ it began to pour, loud booms of thunder piercing through the otherwise quiet car. Times like this reminded me that I was half human, everytime the weather even became the tiniest bit gloomy I began to get a severe migraine.

The whole area we were driving through seemed to be nothing but trees. Huge, drooping trees that were being weighed down by the pouring rain. Rain pelted the car, having not once let up since my father had announced that we were close to our destination. Thick moss covered huge boulders that lined the sides of the road. Deer seemed to be in abundance, practically lining the trees just inside the tree line.

Bright red leaves caught my eye once we pulled down a new street. The only color besides green I had seen for miles. The tree the leaves covered was huge and almost hid the whole house behind it. The tree was semi wrapping itself around a telephone pole. The trees color contrasted heavily with the plain white house behind it and the surrounding greenery. To the left of the massive red tree was an even bigger green one, a few branches so weighed down with water that they were almost touching the ground below.

“You can stay in the car if you want,” My dad mumbled to me as he shut off the car. He got out and cold wind whipped into the car before he could close the door. I pulled my cardigan tighter to me again and watched him as he walked toward the moving truck I hadn’t seen before. There were two men standing outside of it, soaked from the rain, waiting for him. They exchanged some brief words before opening the back of the truck and climbing on to begin getting stuff out.

I tried to play around on my phone while they moved our stuff into the house but nothing was interesting. Every article was just another reiteration of the same few stories that had gotten big the past week and I had already read into them. This week I knew far too much about some youtuber who had put out toxic makeup, next week would probably be the same. Endless stories about useless things I used to fill any void I felt.

My eyes lifted from my phone to see my father single handedly carrying in a huge recliner as the two movers stared at his retreating back in awe. The two of them exchanged a look and shrugged, silently agreeing neither of them get paid enough to question it. They moved box by box and pillow by pillow and were done in record time. My father was handing them a tip as one of the movers bravely asked how my dad was able to lift things that were so heavy and move so quickly.

He chuckled lightly and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand nervously. Then he muttered something about having a daughter who didn’t want to move in the first place, so he wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. The two movers looked over to me as I sat in the car and nodded in agreement with my dad as they probably noticed the irritation on my face.

The two movers said goodbye and got into their truck and took off down the road. Each turn of the tires on the truck made a wet, crunching sound as they pulled off onto another street and out of view. A gust of chilly wind flowed through the car when my dad pulled open the driver seat door to reach in and grab his bag. He said nothing to me as got his stuff and the car keys, slamming the door and marching his way into the house. I watched as the door closed behind him with a small clicking sound.

The rain and my headache had lightened up a little bit but they were both still annoyingly there. It seemed that I had spoken too soon because just as I decided to get out of the car and go inside the rain began to pelt the car harder and searing pain shot behind my right eye and to the back of my head. A loud crack of thunder sounded across the sky, shaking the ground slightly and making me wince in pain. Gritting my teeth I got out of the car and ran through the rain to get inside.

The front door opened to reveal a narrow hallway and a bulky staircase to the right of it. I could see into the living room just to my left from the front door. My dad was already putting together the TV and wifi, kneeling in front of the fireplace mantle that had our tv displayed on it. He was muttering to himself about how technology these days was useless and combing through different wires he had in a box. Even with his advanced senses he had difficulty with today's technology, which didn’t make sense to me because he had been alive for over 300 years and watched as technology progressed.

“Do you need help?” I asked him, setting my bag down on the couch across from him. He shook his head and didn’t bother looking up at me. “I guess I’ll go set up my room a little bit and take a nap, I have a killer migraine.”

“Sure,” he muttered, pulling the wires out of a box and trying to untangle them. I watched him for a minute, waiting for him to maybe say more to me. Or maybe show that he cared even a little bit about me. Watching him became awkward and disappointing quickly so I grabbed my bag and ran up the stairs two at a time. The door at the top of the stairs was open and I could see my stuff all piled around the room, I hadn’t seen the house beforehand so he had just assigned me a room.

It wasn’t a bad choice on his part, it was the master bedroom with an en suite. When you first walked in the first thing you would see was a huge picture window with a window seat attached to it and a small bookshelf under the seat. To the left was my bed and to the right was a wall covered by a bookshelf and the door to the en suite.

My mind wandered to all the different things I could do with this room to try and make myself feel at home. I took out some decorative pillows and a couple throw blankets and threw them onto the window seat. The next thing I did was put my bed together, throwing on my favorite blue sheets and quilt set.

The distraction of arranging my room took my mind off the weather and my headache, during which time both had gone away. Though my mood and the weather were still gloomy it was nothing compared to earlier.

My body felt heavy as I got some sweats out of one of my clothes boxes and pulled them on. The freshly made bed in front of me had never looked more inviting so I climbed in and wrapped myself in the quilt. I wasn’t one who usually fell asleep quickly but as I yawned and snuggled closer to my pillows I knew it wouldn’t take long today.

I shot awake what felt like two minutes later, sweat beading all over my body. My breathing my heavy and uneven, the quilt I had wrapped up in now at the end of my bed having been kicked away during my dream. It was the same dream I always had when we first moved to a new town, yet I never expected it.

There was a woman, completely and utterly starved. Her eyes were sunken in and surrounded by the deepest black, worse than any black eyes I had ever seen. Her lips were chapped, white pieces flaking off here and there with deep splits in them covered in dried blood. Her hair was the same color as mine except hers looked like it was covered in dust.

The clothes she was wearing were stained in blood, some fresh and some all dried up. Her chest didn’t move up and down with every breath, she was still. There was no sign of life left in her

Someone was screaming her name in the background, managing to choke it out between sobs. You could hear the endless chant of “Mary, please don’t!’ and “Mary, please stay with me!’ but there was nothing else the person could do, her eyes were blank as they stared ahead. Whoever she was she was gone and not coming back.

I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes and tried to calm down. The dream felt like a memory, a distant one. This dream came around all the time but I couldn’t place who the woman was, I couldn’t recall that I had ever seen her. A few years back I had even tried looking up what dreams meant but came up short.

Taking a deep breath I realized my dad was cooking something downstairs, the scent of garlic was now making its way into my room. I didn’t want to think too much of it but he never usually cooked for me since he doesn’t eat. He would go out and hunt his dinner while I stayed home with stolen blood bag and whatever I decided to cook for myself.

I got out of bed and followed the scent down into the kitchen to see my dad leaning on the counter while something was cooking on the stove. He had a small piece of paper in his hand and he was staring at it, a look of grief on his face. He was so distracted by whatever the paper held that he didn’t know I had come downstairs and almost jumped when he saw me. He shoved the paper quickly into his back pocket and went back to the stove.

The only sound in the kitchen was the popping of the food he was cooking. We didn’t say a word to each other as I went to sit at the island in the middle of the kitchen and watched him cook.I had caught him a few times looking at what I assumed to be the same paper, him never telling me what it was. I noticed the piece of paper sticking out of his jeans so I leapt up from the table and trying to go as fast and as quiet as I could I went to grab it.

My success was short lived because just as I got a hand on whatever it was he had his hand around my wrist stopping me. He had turned around so fast, his senses alerting him to my movement practically before I even decided to do it. That was the trouble with being on half vampire, you were barely half as powerful as a full one.

“Em,” he whispered, with a threatening hint to his voice. I stared at him for a minute, my chest heaving as I decided on what to do. Without hesitation I threw my head forward, every negative thing I had pent up coming out in this moment for no reason. My forehead hit his mouth, hurting me more than him but taking him by surprise. The paper was still pinched between my fingers, his grip loosened on my arm and I spun around looking down at whatever the paper was.

“Mary,” I gasped, recognizing the woman on the paper. She looked much better here, her bright eyes not sunken in and her hair was exactly like mine, shiny with life. She was smiling widely, her nose crinkled as she laughed at whatever the camera hadn’t captured.

“How do you know her name?” My dad asked gravely from behind he. For some reason his words came out breathless though he had no reason to breathe, he didn’t need to. Slowly I turned around to look at him. My brain was going over every possible answer to who she was, trying not to go to the one I was dreading.

“I-I dream about her sometimes,” I whispered to him. He looked crazed, his eyes wide and darting from my face to the picture in my hand. I looked away from him and down to the picture again. There was no getting around it, this could’ve been a picture of me if I had ever been given the opportunity to laugh.

“Mary’s your mother,” He stated, his voice no longer breathless. He had straightened his posture when I looked back up at him. He was now glaring at me, disgust written all over his face. The woman in the picture that I had been dreaming about for years was my mother? He had never once talked about her. I didn’t even really know the concept of having a mom until he put me in school and I saw that everyone else had one and when I asked him about my mom he always ignored me or told me not to talk about it.

“You’ve never…” I let my sentence trail off. He wouldn’t talk about her with me and yet he kept a picture of her that he looked at all the time.

“You killed her.” He spat at me and I froze looking at him through the corner of me eye but not directly. He had backed up into the hallway and out of the kitchen. Whatever he had been cooking was now burning and sending smoke through the house.

“No, I-,” I cut myself off, my eyes darting around trying to remember more of the dream. How could I have killed my own mother? She had never been there and I could remember further back than a human could, I could remember practically back to when I was still a tiny newborn.

“When she was pregnant you sucked the life right out of her,” He explained quietly and when I finally looked up at him with tears spilling down my cheeks he looked like he regretted bringing any of it up. My stomach lurched and my chest tightened thinking of it. I had killed my own mother?

“I don’t…” I tried to start another sentence but they weren’t forming. Realization rushed at me so fast I almost fell backwards, I ended up stumbling back a couple steps before stopping myself. I suddenly felt this hatred bubbling up inside me, I hated everything about my life before and now I could feel hatred for myself. I shouldn’t exist, a human and a vampire shouldn’t have made a child. A killer.

“Em, I don’t know what else to say,” my dad mumbled suddenly closer to me. He ice cold hands gripping my upper arms. My eyes met his sorrow filled ones and tears continued to pour from mine.

“I get it now,” I whispered, shrugging out of his grip. I set the picture down on the island before slowly walking toward the door. Everything in my life suddenly made sense and even though I had clarity I felt no better. I felt worse. My dad looked at me as I slid the backdoor open and turned around to gaze into the backyard.

“That’s why you don’t like me,” I said quietly, as I looked toward the sky. It was pitch black out and rain was falling so heavily I don’t know how I didn’t hear it before. The sky lit up as a flash of lightning struck across the sky, followed by thunder so loud it shook the house and even made me stumble a bit. I looked back at him before continuing to speak. “You hate me because I killed her.”

“Em-” I ran out the back door before he could finish. My clothes became soaked almost immediately, sticking to my skin as I ran as fast as I could through the forest. My bare feet went numb from the cold and I couldn’t feel the ground underneath me but I didn’t care, I kept running as fast as I could.

My mind was reeling as it made sense of everything. My dad not taking an interest in having a relationship with me make complete sense to me now. He hated me for killing the woman he loved even though I didn’t do it on purpose, I never would. I was half vampire but I couldn’t bring myself to kill a fly, let alone my own mother.

I heard a loud scream and was startled before I realized it was me. While I ran my body vibrated with anger, nature seemed to agree with me as lightning started to strike more frequently and closer. This was going to be my eternity, wandering the world by my dads side while he hated me. I let out another scream before I could even stop myself. A loud crack of thunder shook the ground I was running on at the same time.

Ahead of me was a river so I tensed my body and made my legs push me off the ground as hard as I could. I flew through the air and just as I was about to land on the other side a big mass of fur came out of nowhere and knocked me backwards into the rocky river. As the mass knocked into me I had felt something sharp pierce my right calf. My body turned as I fell and slammed into jagged rocks. My whole right side getting scraped up and my head hitting hard. My breath hitched in my throat as the pain coursed through my body.

I rolled off the rock and into the water, it wasn’t deep but if I laid my head back too much it would be completely submerged. A sob loudly broke from my chest as I used my left arm to try and pull myself up. I couldn't stop my crying but something had just attacked me and I wasn’t going to die this way. My right leg was ready to give out from under me, a huge bite mark was present, most of my pant leg torn away. As I stood and blinked my eyes to clear my vision the huge mass of fur was making its way toward me. I stood completely still, frozen to my spot as I realized what it was.

A huge wolf, at least 5 times the size of a regular wolf was stalking toward me. His silver/grey fur gleamed in the moonlight. I dared a glance up at the sky, the clouds were parting letting the moon peek out. When had it stopped raining?

“Go ahead and kill me, that’s I deserve,” I sobbed out. There was no way this wolf understood me but he was going to kill me anyway so I might as well make it therapeutic for myself. “I shouldn’t even be alive, I killed my own mother. I deserve to be torn apart, my father would love it.”

The wolf stopped walking toward me and cocked its head to the side. The wolf looked to be examining me, his eyes roaming my body and stopping to look at each gash on my right side. When our eyes locked I could’ve gasped, they looked human. The raw emotion coming from them was unbelievable. He looked as if he was in awe as we stared at each other. Underneath the awe was complete sadness, like he understood what I had been saying.

I didn’t want to risk moving and startling the wolf so I stayed as still as I could but my legs were beginning to shake, ready to give out from how much pain I was in. I could feel the blood dripping down my face, neck and arms from all the gashes I had sustained slamming into the rock. My right arm couldn’t move, whether it was broken or just knocked out of the socket I didn’t know and I didn’t think I’d find out since the wolf in front of me was probably planning on having me for dinner.

After a minute my legs gave out and I collapsed to my knees, clutching my right arm as I went. Hot, fat tears rolled down my cheeks knowing the wolf took this as a surrender and was probably gearing up to eat. When I caught his gaze again there was even more emotion than before, he looked undeniably upset. Sadness and anger all mixed into one. He took several steps back and let out the loudest howl I had ever heard and ran up the rocky cliff and disappeared into the woods.

My whole body relaxed when he was gone from view but that was short lived because the pain I was feeling before was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. Struggling through the pain I began to inch forward, using my left arm to pull me up the rocky embankment. Before I was even halfway up I heard someone coming down, it wasn’t a wolf this time. Warm arms wrapped themselves around my body and pulled me up gently.

“Are you okay?” The person carrying me asked. My eyes were closed as pain coursed through my body. I would heal quicker than a human but I couldn’t escape the pain. I nodded in response to the stranger and let my body relax in their arms. He was warmer than most humans I had met, the warmth strangely comforting as he walked through the woods.

“We should get out of here quickly,” I mumbled, sounding very tired. “There was a really big wolf and it’ll probably come back for us.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my body. “We’ll be fine.”

Despite knowing better I kept going in and out of consciousness. My eyes not opening even once to look at the man helping me. My mind not even questioning how he was so strong and warm or how he was able to navigate the pitch black woods as a human without enhanced vision.

Before long I regained consciousness a little and felt myself be laid down on something soft, I could hear voices around me talking but wasn’t aware enough to decipher words yet. I felt a warm, wet cloth on my feet, someone was washing them very gently and muttering something as they did. Before long the cloth was on my face and neck, cleaning up the blood that had probably caked my skin.

“She’s healing really fast,” A voice murmured to someone, different than the voice of the man who had carried me to wherever I was. I felt small, warm fingers prodding the skin of my arm and shoulder. “The injuries she sustained from hitting the rock are practically gone. The bite mark you gave her isn’t though.”

“Maybe she’s a wolf too since her healing is incredibly fast,” the voice was female and very beautiful. The words flowing out of her mouth like a song. I was comforted by the fact that it was a woman cleaning me up and not another man.

“She looked scared when she saw me. If she was a wolf she would’ve phased to protect herself,” another voice said, the same one of the man who carried me here. There was a murmur of agreement between the three voices. The man who carried me here sounded like he was saying that he was a wolf and that would explain the emotion in the wolf's eyes but that wouldn’t explain his existence. But who was I to say anything when my father was a vampire and I was half.

“We’ve dealt with vampires and werewolves before, who’s to say there aren’t more supernatural beings out there? When she wakes up we can ask her but until then she needs her rest, she’s been through a lot.” The female voice was back, taking control of the situation. Her small hands stopped examining my wounds and left my body to be replaced with a blanket.

I wanted to open my eyes and start explaining myself to them and thank them for helping me but I was beginning to drift off again. It took my body a lot of energy to heal, sleeping it off was always my best bet. Before I could even begin to argue with myself that this might not be the safest option I was asleep.

My senses were in overdrive as I came too a while later. I wasn’t even fully awake, my eyes cracked open just slightly as I leapt off of the couch. My feet hit the floor and a shooting pain went through my right calf and up my body, almost making me fall. I was breathing hard as I tried to concentrate and gather my senses.

Three people were standing around the room, the two closest to me were men and the one furthest sitting at the kitchen table was a woman with violent red scars down her face. The woman had a sad expression on her face as she looked at me, my face pinched up in pain from my leg wound that oddly hadn’t fully healed yet. One of the men mirrored her face, his eyes were sad and somehow he was still the most handsome guy I had ever seen. The man next to him was tense and watching me with weary eyes, he was standing in a defensive position with his hands up as a warning for me to calm down.

“Take it easy,” the defensive man said, trying to relax his position a little so I would feel at ease. It didn’t work, my human side and my vampire side were fighting over what to do. The vampire in me needed to be on defense, ready to fight anything that came my way. The human part of me wanted to surrender because these people had helped me and clearly were not an enemy.

“I’m Paul,” the handsome man stated, taking a step toward me. He gestured to the man next to him as he got closer to me, “That’s Sam and the woman over there is his fiancee, Emily. She’s the one who cleaned you all up and gave you fresh clothes.”

“I’m Em,” I murmured looking around at all of them trying to get my body to recognize that there wasn’t a threat. Paul stepped closer to me, arms reaching out and wrapping one of them around me. I let my legs give out from under me and he easily scooped me up and placed me back on the couch.

“What are you?” Sam asked finally relaxing and sitting on the coffee table that was just in front of the couch. Emily walked over from the kitchen to join him and I looked around at all three of them. All eyes were on me as they got right to the point, their eyes filled with curiosity.

“You guys waste no time,” I mumbled, wondering if I should tell them anything. My mind flashed back to before when I was laying down on the couch half awake listening to what they were saying, how Paul insinuated that he was the wolf in the woods that attacked me. “Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Have you heard the Quileute legends?” Paul asked from beside me. I looked over at him, his eyes already on me. His eyes were the exact same ones the wolf had, both filled with a look of awe as they searched my face waiting for me to answer.

“No, I’m not familiar with anything from this area. Or any area really,” I mumbled the ending quietly, the three of them all exchanging glances.

“We aren’t going to bombard you with too much at once. Our ancestors, going back for a long time, have been able to shapeshift into wolves.” Sam started to explain, his eyes darting toward Paul who had grown tense next to me. The heat radiating off of him was unbelievable, it was like sitting directly next to a heater.

“So which one of you attacked me in the woods?” I asked looking between the two men. I excluded Emily because judging by the scar on her face she wasn’t a shifter, just someone who had been attacked by one. They had also mentioned earlier that they thought I could be a wolf from my fast healing so the scar on her face was also an indication she wasn’t one of them.

“I did,” Paul said from behind me confirming his story from earlier. When I looked over at him he looked ashamed of himself, like he was ready to jump under a bus from how much he regretted it. I felt the sudden urge to comfort him, the stranger who had attacked me in the woods, I almost laughed from how stupid I felt over it.

“He thought you were a vampire from how fast you were running,” Emily interjected, placing a hand on my knee. My dad, bile rose in my throat as I thought of him, has always been very clear about sharing our secret but I felt safe here and I doubted that they were going to just let me go without answering them. The way they had taken care of me made me think that maybe they could be friends. Maybe they could finally give me what I had been missing my whole life.

“Well, you’d be half right,” I told them. They all exchanged looks again and Sam leaned back running his hands along his thighs as he spoke. He seemed very unsure of how he was going to say what he seemed to need to to me.

“We have a treaty with some other vampires who used to live here, the Cullens,” he paused and looked at me waiting to see if I recognized them. The way he said ‘The Cullens’ made them sound like a bigger coven than I had ever been used to but he said they were gone now so I didn’t have to worry about a fight over territory. When I didn’t show any signs of knowing them, he continued. “Vampires aren’t allowed on our land, it’s a rule we have to protect our families.”

“Oh,” I whispered suddenly disappointed. The part of me that had let myself get comfortable in their presence was now tense and remembered how my life usually went. To stay alive and inconspicuous I had to hide myself away, only doing necessary things to blend into the town and not be spotted.

“Maybe if we knew more about you we could let you and only you, come back here sometime,” Emily offered up, looking over at Sam hopefully. Sam was staring at Paul and paying no attention to anyone else. Paul also had the same hopeful look that Emily did as he stared back at Sam.

“What do you want to know?” I asked them sitting up straighter and waiting for the real interrogation to begin. It seemed to be two against one with Paul and Emily against Sam, who was clearly a leader of some sort to them.

“Are you alone? Do you have like a mate or whatever vampires call their boyfriends?” Paul asked from beside me. That was not the opening question I was expecting. He looked hopeful while I probably looked dumbfounded at the first question, not having expected it.

“Uh, no I don’t have a ‘mate’ but I just moved here with my father who’s a full vampire not just half,” I told them and Sam tensed, his eyes going between Emily and Paul. They all looked nervous and like I just made them think of a million more questions.

“How does that even work? Being half a vampire, we’ve never experienced that and our legends don’t speak of vampires being on ‘half’,” Sam asked, no one else had wanted to continue. I bit my lip unsure of how to continue too. I hadn’t really known either until a few hours ago and the truth was shocking and not something I want to tell strangers about myself. Especially when they had taken care of me.

“I didn’t know until a few hours ago either, I never questioned it and my dad doesn’t really speak to me so I know next to nothing,” I started, gauging their expressions again. Next to me I could feel Paul staring at me and when I looked at him he was looking at me like I could never tell him anything that would make him not like me. The intensity of his look, we were total strangers so it didn’t make sense for him to look at me like this, knocked the breath out of me.

“Continue,” Sam instructed, breaking me away from Pauls gaze. I felt myself frown a little going over every way I could answer them without telling them the complete, horrible truth.

“My vampire father had sex with my human mother and she got pregnant,” I relented shrugging my shoulders and looking around at them. “I don’t know much about vampires or humans really so I don’t really know how any of it works.”

“Where’s your mom now?” Emily asked, making my eyes almost bulge out of my head. How could I even go about explaining this?

“I really don’t know, my dad never talks about anything with me let alone my mom,” I replied sounding casual, to me it sounded too casual. They all seem to be satisfied with my answer, as none of them looked like they were still questioning me.

“This is something we’ve never heard of,” Sam muttered and mumbled under his breath about the legends.

“I thought vampires couldn’t have children,” Emily mentioned sounding puzzled. “Their bodies don’t change, they’re frozen in time.”

“My father only ever told me what I absolutely needed to know about vampires, stay away from the ones with red eyes and hunt inconspicuously. This is all I know,” I said sounding a little defensive.

“Your father doesn’t have red eyes?” Sam asked, a very little bit of relief present in his face.

“His eyes are golden, sometimes black depending on when the last time he hunted was,” Sam nodded at me, seeming to believe what I was saying. Next to me Paul scooted closer to me, our knees touching.

“Do you know anything about a red headed vampire? She’s been coming through Forks and La Push for a while now, she’s after one of our friends,” Paul asked and I shook my head, I had met a red headed vampire a few years back but she wasn’t alone.

“I’ve only met a few other vampires, one of them was red headed but I doubt its her because she was part of a small coven with her mate and a friend they picked up along the way,” I answered them, if it was her they were in trouble. When I met her, Victoria, she had been with her mate James and their newest addition, Laurent. James was the most lethal tracker in the world according to my dad and it had been surprising to him that they left me alone.

“Was her name, Victoria?” Paul asked shifting beside me and grabbing my shoulders to bring me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him in surprise, my mouth opening but no words coming out. Paul looked worried and cast a look over at Sam who was standing now, looking out a window into the early morning light. I had been here for longer than I thought, it was almost time for my first day of school.

“I’m guessing you’ve met her,” Sam stated not bothering to really ask or look back at me. I shrugged out of Paul’s grip and got up and went over to him.

“I have never met anyone who has ever made me as uneasy as Victoria and James did, they are absolutely lethal. James is a tracker, once he ‘tastes’ your mind he can find you anywhere, he does not give up,” I said looking around the room, mainly toward Emily. Paul and Sam had some advantage over the vampires but Emily was defenseless. “Victoria I would say is even worse, she can’t be caught. Some vampires have gifts like James does, I know that much about them, somehow Victoria has the gift of self preservation or that’s what my dad heard over the years.”

“The friend she’s after was friendly with the Cullens. James tried to kill her so the Cullens killed him and now Victoria wants revenge,” Paul explained coming over to us. I relaxed a little hearing that James was dead but Victoria alone could be deadly.

“We haven’t picked up her scent in a little while though,” Sam said eyeing me. Next to him Paul tensed up at the look Sam was giving me. “It’s good to have some information on her though, now we can be more vigilant if she shows up.”

“I can always help,” I offered, the look on Paul’s face making it clear he didn’t want me to help but Sam looked surprised. “I only have school, my first day starts soon so I should be getting to that so I look normal or whatever but I can come back...if you want.”

“You’d help us kill one of your own?” Sam asked sounding intrigued.

“She’s not one of my own, I don’t really have anyone. I guess my dad counts as my own but I probably would fight him too if it was to save innocent people,” I explained, practically wincing when I mentioned my dad. My brain was trying desperately to suppress the events that had taken place back at my house and focus solely on this.

“You should come back but I wouldn’t want you getting hurt helping us,” Paul replied quickly. My face flushed when he said it was him that didn’t want me to get hurt. There was something about Paul that I liked but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“You can come back but let your father know he isn’t welcome on our land,” Sam told me, he didn’t wait for me to say anything else or leave. He disappeared to a room just off the kitchen, the door slamming shut so loudly that even I flinched.

“He’ll come around,” Emily assured me but looked over at Paul, more so assuring him. The last few hours had been a lot of information to take in and I was too overwhelmed to question anything more about Paul. Emily was moving around the kitchen quickly grabbing stuff and putting it into a paper bag.

“Can I walk you home?” Paul asked, taking my attention away from Emily.

“You can, you’ll just have to leave before we get too close to my house. My dad doesn’t like me talking to anyone unless it is absolutely necessary,” He frowned when I said it but quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

“Here you go, some breakfast and lunch since we kept you so long and you’re running late for your first day,” Emily handed me the paper bag she had been filling. She had a wide, cheerful smile on her face as she waved Paul and I off.

My heart hammered in my chest at all the possibilities of my new home. In a matter of hours of being here I learned so much, way more than my dad had ever wanted me to know. I felt like I was going to be able to finally become independent from him and able to set my own course in life. I didn’t know what the end result would look like but I knew it was happening.

Tagged:

@angelenemies @twilightxcx

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gch1995 · 5 years ago

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^ Someone on tumblr described Jane x Rochester as a “horrifying, adorable dog,” and that’s actually the most accurate description of why I think so many of us want their relationship to work out against all common sense and better judgment. I knew there had to be a reason as to why Mr. Rochester’s dog Pilot was like the biggest shipper of him and Jane on deck in the book who constantly acquainted/reacquainted them at some of the most pivotal scenes. He looks scary at first, but he’s actually loving and completely loyal to his owner! LOL!

At first glance, they might look pretty scary, mismatched, unhinged, and unattractive because of Rochester’s cowardly lies, emotional manipulations of Jane to draw her out to find out if she has feelings for him, attempted bigamy, surliness, barely self-restrained potentially dangerous hot temper, and moodiness, and Jane, however unintentionally, sending him further into a deep pit of guilt, self-loathing, and despair by abandoning him in the dead of night without a word to him or anyone else at Thornfield, next to nothing to survive on her own for more than a few days, playing hard-to-get, and being completely blunt, teasing, and unflattering towards him.

But the closer you look at them and the more their story unfolds, the more you want them to learn from their mistakes, forgive each and ultimately end up together happily ever after anyway...

Maybe, it’s because in spite of all of Rochester’s problematic and unhealthy relationship behaviors and deceptions with Jane in their first courtship, it’s because it becomes increasingly obvious as the story goes on that he feels internally conflicted and guilty about deceiving and manipulating her, and he really does it all because he’s a coward with manic depression who hides behind deceit, power, social upper class, and wealth as a Victorian gentleman to cover up his own personal insecurities and emotional vulnerability, and not because he intentionally means to hurt Jane or make her feel worthless....

Maybe, it’s because Rochester’s similar to Jane in that he doesn’t love himself either, but unlike her, he’s learned how to deal with it in the most cowardly, dishonest, and unhealthy of ways possible by hiding behind mask of dark secrets, lies, manipulation, wealth, and upperclass social rank as a high society upperclass Victorian Englishman, granting him the opportunity to take shortcuts, and she’s one of the few people who can understand why he did those things by both refusing to tolerate his shit without also judging him negatively as “pure evil” for it and “unworthy of love” for...

Maybe, it’s because they share similar bizarre tastes in their intelligence, strongly superstitious natures, literary references, and genuinely want each other to see themselves as people who are worthy of love from both each other’s perspectives and the rest of the world....Maybe, it’s because they’re the only two people in the world who could possibly handle coming back together stronger and healthier than ever before as a couple after driving each other to the brink of total insanity with their crazy melodramatic mood swings, whirlwind courtship, and separation full of angst and near death experiences the first time around...

Maybe, it’s because Charlotte Brontë is such a brilliant writer who makes you love both their individual characters so much in spite of their flaws, that you want for them to be alright and happy at the end...

For whatever reason, you ultimately want Jane to go back to a Rochester who can finally love her honestly and respectfully as his equal in every way by realizing he fucked up by trying to ignore his problems, and learn to leave all that toxic behavior behind him, so that they can end up getting married and living together happily ever, and you can stop feeling guilty for desperately shipping them together as endgame couple with the two of them ending on a healthy note, even if it spent a majority of the novel being majorly unhealthy in their initial courtship.

Watched Sense and Sensibility and then Pride and Prejudice and had all my giggly, giddy scenes along with a few tearjerkers (omg, I’m a sucker for stories involving close sisters).

Now for Jane Eyre, the one that kinda gut-punches me because JANE is ALONE and so STRONG and she’s in love with such an ASSHOLE who loves her but is still an ASSHOLE.

I have feelings about this.

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meadowhilley · 8 years ago

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it’s back

Today, my friends, is World Cancer Day. How exactly does one celebrate such an occasion, you wonder? That’s actually what I’m writing to find out. For starters it seems like a fitting moment to break my nearly year-long silence and tell you It’s back.

Not the cancer—I’m still “free,” as far as anyone can tell. No, what’s back with a vengeance is the sensation of living with an ugly and insidious thing growing inside me. The Get-It-The-Fuck-Out-Of-Me urgency that two and a half years ago made me drop everything, fall into a blue vinyl chair, and start blogging straight through my chemo infusions.

I still can’t explain by what internal mechanism this revelation about my compromised physical state triggered a visceral awareness that I’d been living with a different sort of malignancy for decades—a tangled knot of repressed emotion growing more potent and far-reaching as I happily went about the manic business of being a working mom. Or how I understood that my ability to heal bodily was predicated on my willingness to undergo a mental purge. Or how I knew with absolute certainty what I needed to do, even in those foggy predawn moments before the diagnosis had fully resolved into a clear picture of what awaited me in the days and months ahead.

Whether it was some atavistic survival instinct that kicked in or what they (dismissively) chalk up to “women’s intuition,” whether it was divine inspiration or something closer to unhinged delusion, at the very moment I received The Bad News I found myself in A State of Grace, like in a primal garden scintillating with dew where knowledge hangs low on the branch, hungry for the right mouth.

Glutton that I am, I bit. And instantly I came to understand that my body was a book I’d been writing for years without ever stopping to read it. At the center of my story was this malignant enigma, a living organism pregnant with meaning whose tendrils reached greedily through the space-time of my inner landscape, looking to occupy all my vital sites.

Stopping its spread and reversing the cancer’s insidious creep was the obvious goal of our immediate coordinated response. But as my three doctors each took up their weapons—poison, blade, and fire—I lay low like a meadow-turned-battlefield, bracing myself for the onslaught and devising an alternate plan, knowing that the only way to truly best this beastly part of me that fed on darkness was to draw it out, into the light.

So I painted my face. Obviously. Spent a week wearing only dresses. Naturally. Loitered seductively at the mouth of what I guessed might be my deepest emotional cavern. Patiently. Until one day, in the small round mirror of my compact case, I glimpsed a dark shade emerging against a background of shadow. Taking a sultry step forward in my red two-inch heels, I watched discretely as it advanced with predatory appetite, hypnotized by the allure of an easy meal. And at the very moment it crouched to pounce, I turned to face my Beast-Me.

Go ahead, I told my cancerous self, feeling beautiful for once and more powerful than ever. Show me how ugly I am inside. You will not be the first.

My plan wasn’t particularly well-formed. I was totally winging it, to be honest. With hindsight though it’s possible to list the major steps of my cancer-fighting campaign as:

1. Perform strength to psych myself up for the encounter.

2. Position myself as bait.

3. Coax the unknown threat out of hiding.

4. Subject it to intense examination.

5. Force it to reveal its origins.

6. Love the thing to death.

All on my terms, in a place where I felt safe and strong and well supported.

In other words, I would write the cancer out of me.

Out, like, in the open. Words confided to a private journal were not going cut it. An invasive species so entrenched would have to be pulled up by the roots into the glaring light of day and subjected to full exposure. This pathogen and its attending pathos should be left to shrivel and wilt under public scrutiny, I understood, until having lost all potency conferred by me, their host, they would reveal their true, pathetic nature and leave me whole.

If you’re not an exhibitionist by nature, writing publicly about your intimate past and present is highly ill-advised. Maybe you’re someone who cares about what people think of you. Or maybe you have a family to protect, a job you’d like to keep, or competing interests and hobbies. In my case, all of these inhibiting factors were compounded by the muzzling effect of four hundred years of injustice perpetrated by the West, which we have systematically justified by painting the Other as radically different—a threat to be mastered, a contagion to be contained.

How could I possibly talk about my challenging 13-year relationship with my African ex-husband, who was also a Muslim, without perpetuating these longstanding stereotypes and adding fuel to the fire? How could I tell my story without doing more harm than good? Fully aware of the risk that my experience would be generalized and my words misinterpreted, I felt compelled to write all the same. Common sense and fear, I came to feel, were my greatest enemies. To build a bridge, you’ve got to reach dangerously across the gaping abyss.

All this to say that hitting “Post” was never a mindless gesture for me. It required a force of will that ran counter to reason, and caution, and instinct.

Announcing that I had cancer in a Facebook status update was admittedly a shameless bid for your attention, like dancing carelessly on a mountain ledge. But I wouldn’t have sought your attention if I didn’t think it was absolutely vital to my healing. You, dear friends, were the gentle sunlight that scorched my disease better than a daily dose of photon rays at +$3,000 a pop x 25 sizzling pops. It was because you agreed to bear witness to my self-designed form of treatment by reading me as I attempted to decipher the book of my body that I got better. You did that. Each one of you made a difference. And it didn’t cost us anything but time.

So now it’s back. That oh-shit-here-we-go-again feeling, like there’s some creature dragging its claws through my gut from the inside. Only this time I’m even more reluctant to write publicly. For one, I’ve been writing privately, trying to build a bigger bridge, in silence, and that jealous pursuit demands all the attention I can afford to give it.

But, UGH. The world changed two weeks ago just as it did two years back with the diagnosis, and ten years before that when my first marriage ended: abruptly, dramatically, alarmingly. A rug has just been pulled out from under our feet, and with my introvert laid out in utter shock, my extrovert showed up, a rival sibling looking to compete for the same scant resources of time and attention, demanding I Do Something Now.

Don’t! shouted my introvert, albeit weakly from the floor. Keep to yourself, it pleaded. Focus your angst inward. Don’t be so arrogant as to think you have something of value to say in the here and now. Lay low. Leave this one to the activists and experts.

Reasonable arguments, all. But here’s the thing: on the subject of hostile takeovers, I am something of an expert. I devoted my doctoral dissertation to groups who used writing as a means of liberating themselves from their longtime oppressors. I lived for six years in a country that had only achieved its independence a generation earlier. Even more instructive, I personally survived the experience of being colonized twice: first mentally, by my domineering ex, then physically, by the cancer, whose insidious advance reminded me so much of the guy’s subtle way of methodically getting me to give up my freedoms, one by one, until it seemed I had nothing left. Claiming that others would be better suited to speaking out against the authoritarian power grab by the big bully now occupying the White House, that someone else would do a better job describing the risks his tyrannical methods pose to our liberty and national character, it’s all just bullshit, a way of shirking my responsibility.

So it’s with a certain authority that I can assure you: the cancer plaguing us today may wear a name other than ER/PR HER2-Positive Invasive Ductile Carcinoma, but it is just as deadly. It’s not only an oppressive ex haunting my own little psyche, but our current President doing a serious number on our collective consciousness. This shit’s not just in me this time, but it’s in you, too. And it’s going to poison the world over if we don’t all stand up to stop it now.

One of my first thoughts on getting the diagnosis was, Did I bring this on myself? My ongoing attempt to answer that question without wallowing in self-loathing has brought me on the greatest journey of my life, towards healing. The same can be true for us as a country.

Yes, we brought this on ourselves. But we also have the means to fix it. We are all cause and cure both. Niit niit mooy garabam, the Wolof proverb goes. Other people are our own best medicine. We need to turn and face this ugliness together, give ourselves permission to speak out, and shout a resounding Fuck No as one. The disease may have found its way into US, but in no way is it a definitive reflection of who we are. Not if we refuse to play host to its toxic presence.

So how should we celebrate World Cancer Day? I’ve come up with a couple suggestions, based on personal experience:

1. Start by making yourself feel good and beautiful and strong.

2. Don’t be afraid to draw fire. Welcome discomfort. Actively displace yourself.

3. Coax this shared malignancy out into the open.

4. Take a good, hard look at it, understanding that it offers us the blessed gift of insight.

5. Figure out where it comes from, and how it managed to take root within us.

6. Spread beauty and love in abundance.

Writing was the tool that best fit my own hand, but everyone has a custom-made means of expression, an instrument perfectly suited to doing the patient work of parsing out what’s healthy in us from what is corrosive. My girls got a great kick out of the Turnip sign that recently sprang up just feet away from the spot on Main Street where an enormous Trump sign has for months been planted like a foreign flag, causing Brewster residents to wonder who we are as a community.

Me, I can’t wait to see what you all come up with.

#worldcancerday #trumpturnip #resist #blacklivesmatter #nowall #nobannowall #cancer #sanctuary #antigone #longwayhome

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theconservativebrief · 6 years ago

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Ralph Breaks the Internet is a picaresque, a joyous romp through the backwaters of the internet that nevertheless packs a powerful punch. At first blush, I’d say it falls just short of its predecessor, 2012’s wonderful Wreck-It Ralph, but maybe I need to see it five more times before saying anything so bold.

And when I say it’s a “picaresque,” I mean it. Like the novels that bear this genre label, it’s an episodic journey through an unfamiliar place, following a merry band of travelers as they visit various corners of said unfamiliar place.

At first, the adventures of ’80s video game villain Wreck-It Ralph (John C. Reilly) and ’00s racer game heroine Vanellope (Sarah Silverman) seem largely disconnected or plot-driven. But little by little, the voyage reveals itself to be plucking at unexamined emotional bonds between the two.

Perhaps the best-known American novel to fall under the definition of “picaresque” is The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, a veritable buffet of tropes from all sorts of genres in which Huck and his friend, the escaped slave Jim, float down the Mississippi. As they get deeper and deeper into the South, Jim faces more and more danger, and the humor slowly drains from the book. As the threat to Jim’s life increases, the story becomes about Huck having a moral reckoning with the institution of slavery he’s grown up alongside.

That is … not what Ralph Breaks the Internet is about, but it’s rather remarkable how closely it follows the same structure, as Ralph and Vanellope plumb the depths of the internet in search of a way to purchase a piece of hardware they need to fix her game back at the arcade where they both live.

They riff on eBay and social media and the dark web, and though the movie is crawling with brand names — whether the sight of a giant tower marked “Google” will fill you with delight or dread is open for debate — it’s much more interested in the internet as a place that binds us together than as any specific series of corporate entities. But it’s also interested in how the internet might bind us together too tightly.

Here are three things Ralph Breaks the Internet gets really right about the internet you’re reading these words on right now. (Alas, Vox does not make a cameo in the film.)

Ralph and Vanellope look out upon the wonders of the internet. Disney

For all its weird adoration of brand names, the first scene where Ralph and Vanellope find themselves online is a visual marvel that captures a feeling I haven’t experienced in 20-ish years: the way it feels to hop online for the very first time.

The two step out of their little wifi portal onto a platform overlooking a vast city, darting with traffic. Little Twitter birds pass along JPGs of Grumpy Cat. Amazon and Google tower over the landscape, but there are plenty of other areas to explore too. It’s at once Times Square reimagined in a digital space and a portal to a wider world. Ralph and Vanellope head down into the throngs to find their way to eBay, and the adventure is afoot.

Later, Vanellope muses that the internet seems disconnected from the day/night cycle of the real world; when you’re online, it feels like the sun is always up. And given that the movie is organized around a pretty strict time limit — after winning her replacement part in an eBay auction, Ralph and Vanellope have 24 hours to cough up the money to pay for it — this “always on” quality makes it a bit difficult to keep track of the story. But Vanellope is right, in the sense that Ralph Breaks the Internet captures that weird, buzzy feeling that comes from being online too long, from feeling like there are a million possibilities ahead and you haven’t even come close to exhausting them.

In some ways, this makes the movie’s inability to imagine the online space in a way that goes beyond a very direct representation of it a little disappointing. Yes, that big, bold city is a lot of fun to look at, but its architecture (which is built atop the very real electronic architecture that houses the internet) never quite conveys the wild, “anything can happen” sense of the internet at its best.

And even if the sequence when Vanellope meets all the Disney princesses (which has been heavily teased for months now) is mostly a lot of fun, the corporate synergy turned my stomach just a bit.

If you place all these gags in the context of Ralph Breaks the Internet co-director Rich Moore’s career, however, they make sense. Moore got his big break taking the piss out of pop culture on The Simpsons and Futurama, and the Wreck-It Ralph movies are among the few big-screen films to manage the same joke-a-minute, satirical snap of those TV shows.

The satire’s a little milder here — Disney’s not going to let him truly mock the princesses — but it’s easier to take the jokes about popular brands when Moore’s the one at the helm. He knows just how to lean into the unhinged nature of the web and speed through them fast enough to keep you from feeling too queasy.

Ralph and Vanellope meet a new friend named Shank. Disney

The script for Ralph Breaks the Internet (by co-director Phil Johnston and Pamela Ribon) was written years ago, which makes it a poor fit for, say, critiquing our current, slightly terrifying online world. But even if it were more up-to-the minute, it’s not as though Ralph and Vanellope would blunder down a dark alley and meet a bunch of 4chan Nazis or anything like that.

And the movie does capture the bleaker side of the web all the same, whether that simply involves Ralph seeing a bunch of comments making fun of him or going to visit the dark web, which promises all manner of salacious items for purchase, right down to a creepy, snake-like virus that looks a little like one of the robot squid critters from The Matrix.

Ralph Breaks the Internet doesn’t want to solely portray the internet as a scary place, but I was a little surprised by how dark the movie was willing to go, especially as it entered a third act that isn’t shy about poking at its heroes’ insecurities.

Ralph and Vanellope meet a lot of fun new characters online — including Gal Gadot as Shank, who occupies an online racing game that catches Vanellope’s eye, and Disney regular Alan Tudyk as an old-fashioned search engine named Knowsmore. But it’s easy to see why Ralph keeps trying to turn back toward the arcade, where life is safe and predictable. To paraphrase Linus from A Charlie Brown Christmas, the internet hasn’t only gotten too commercial; it’s gotten too dangerous.

This marks Ralph Breaks the Internet as belonging to a specific subgenre of the picaresque, one that harks to old Hollywood — the story of two small-town kids who set out for the big city and find their friendship tried by what they encounter there. And it’s in that version of itself that Ralph Breaks the Internet ultimately packs its biggest emotional punch.

How is Vanellope not an official Disney princess? Disney

It’s really hard to talk about what ends up linking Ralph Breaks the Internet’s many loose ends in a third act that feels as bold and smart a story about what it means to live online as any we’ve ever come up with, because to do so is to spoil some of the story’s biggest twists. Suffice to say that if you’re at all familiar with the “two friends go to the big city” format, you’ll know that the big city will seek to divide them. And seeing Ralph and Vanellope realize they’re becoming very different people is legitimately heartbreaking.

But it’s everything that follows from that moment that pushes the movie to another level entirely, one that left me a little gobsmacked. Because ultimately, Ralph Breaks the Internet becomes a story about how entirely well-meaning guys can become toxic to their female friends, as well as a story about how hard it can be to realize that even the best of friends might have to take divergent paths to remain happy.

And the film realizes these themes on just about every level. Its script crackles with references to online toxicity (up to and including a pointed mention of a character who wants to “ride in on a white horse” — a nod to the idea of “white knighting,” when a “nice guy” tries, too aggressively, to come to the aid of a woman online). Its images depict how it feels to have all your vulnerabilities exposed for the world to see. And its themes connect in a way that will make sense to just about any viewer, young or old.

Ralph Breaks the Internet, like all good picaresques, meanders a bit during its journey, stopping to take several little detours that aren’t strictly necessary. Most of these detours are fresh and funny; a few tried my patience. But they’re crucial to what ends up being the film’s ultimate emotional effect. Ralph Breaks the Internet is a movie about how easy it is to forget that the internet is made up of people, sometimes even people you love, because it flatters you and batters you and deflates your ego, until you forget about anybody who’s not yourself.

Ralph Breaks the Internet is playing in theaters everywhere.

Original Source -> Ralph Breaks the Internet is The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but for the internet

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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moonwalkertrance · 6 years ago

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5 Takeaways From Bob Woodward’s Book on the Trump White House

WASHINGTON — A new book by Bob Woodward, the longtime Washington Post reporter, portrays a White House with relentless infighting and a work culture so toxic and volatile that many of President Trump’s top advisers and cabinet members became accustomed to working around their boss, whom they described as unstable and uninformed.

“Fear: Trump in the White House,” which is set for a public release next Tuesday and already sits atop Amazon’s best-seller list, is one in a series of insider accounts published this year that have drawn the ire of the West Wing. “Fire and Fury,” by the writer Michael Wolff, and “Unhinged,” by the former White House adviser Omarosa Manigault Newman, also reported the kind of hostility and interpersonal feuding that Mr. Woodward depicts. Mr. Trump reacted to both books with numerous tweets targeting the authors.

On Tuesday, after copies of Mr. Woodward’s book leaked to reporters, Mr. Trump told The Daily Caller that parts of it may have been made up.

“It’s just another bad book. He’s had a lot of credibility problems,” Mr. Trump said of Mr. Woodward.

Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the White House press secretary, called it “nothing more than fabricated stories.”

Here are some key takeaways from the book.

The Russia investigation is a constant source of anxiety for Mr. Trump, and for his lawyers.

In late January, Mr. Woodward wrote, Mr. Trump sat down with John Dowd, then an outside lawyer advising the president on the White House’s interactions with Robert S. Mueller III, the special counsel. The idea was to stage a mock interview between the president and Mr. Mueller, who was angling to question Mr. Trump. During the session, Mr. Trump repeatedly lied and contradicted himself, insulted the former F.B.I. director James B. Comey, then exploded in anger, ranting for a half-hour about the investigation being a “hoax.”

Mr. Dowd tried to demonstrate why their meeting was reason for Mr. Trump not to do an interview with Mr. Mueller, citing the president’s schedule demands.

“It’s not that you’re lying or you’re bad or anything like that,” Mr. Dowd told him. “Given your daily intake — just look what we’ve done this afternoon.”

Mr. Dowd handed him a letter addressed to Mr. Mueller asserting the president’s right to terminate the investigation. Mr. Trump loved it.

The day after, a gleeful Mr. Trump called Mr. Dowd. “I slept like a rock,” the president said. “I love that letter.”

By March, little progress had been made with Mr. Mueller. On March 5, Mr. Dowd met with the special counsel and one of his deputies and explained why he was trying to keep Mr. Trump away from them.

“I’m not going to sit there and let him look like an idiot,” he said.

Later that month, Mr. Dowd told Mr. Trump why he should avoid an interview: “It’s either that or an orange jumpsuit.”

Mr. Mueller engaged in lively conversations for months with Mr. Trump’s lawyers.

The book offers the first extensive look at dialogue between Mr. Mueller and those involved in the Russia investigation. Mr. Woodward recounted Mr. Dowd’s zigzagging relationship with the special counsel’s office, and the lengths he went to to build a rapport with Mr. Mueller in the heat of negotiations over an interview with Mr. Trump. Mr. Dowd fluctuated between credulity and outrage, at one point telling Mr. Trump after an especially trying meeting with Mr. Mueller that the president may have been right about the special counsel all along.

Mr. Woodward wrote that Mr. Dowd would tell Mr. Mueller that the president did not have time for the inquiry while he was juggling the responsibilities of his new job.

“I’m very sensitive to that,” Mr. Mueller reportedly responded. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Still, Mr. Mueller at one point told Mr. Dowd that he could acquire a grand jury subpoena, which Mr. Dowd interpreted as a threat.

“I’m not trying to threaten you,” Mr. Mueller reportedly told Mr. Dowd. “I’m just thinking of the possibilities here.”

In one meeting with Mr. Mueller, Mr. Dowd, to make plain just how much he feared that Mr. Trump would commit perjury, asked Jay Sekulow, another one of Mr. Trump’s lawyers, to re-enact Mr. Trump’s practice session from January. Mr. Sekulow, playing Mr. Trump, imitated an answer to a question about Mr. Comey.

“Sekulow’s answer was classic Trump — an answer spun out of thin air, with contradictions, made-up stuff, anger,” Mr. Woodward wrote. “A perfect performance. A perfect Trump.”

Mr. Trump’s advisers are repeatedly stunned by the president’s lack of interest in and knowledge of major issues.

Mr. Woodward used several defense-related meetings to illustrate the president’s problem grasping his own administration’s policy, including a July 2017 gathering at the Pentagon between Mr. Trump, military brass and members of his cabinet.

“When are we going to start winning some wars?” Mr. Trump groused as those around him tried to clarify the purpose of the war in Afghanistan. “We’ve got these charts. When are we going to win some wars? Why are you jamming this down my throat?”

Mr. Trump attacked the generals and cabinet members in the room, leaving Secretary of State Rex W. Tillerson exasperated. He’s a “moron,” Mr. Tillerson reportedly said once Mr. Trump had left, using an expletive.

At a January meeting of the National Security Council, Mr. Trump asked why the United States was spending so much on the Korean Peninsula.

Defense Secretary Jim Mattis replied that the administration was trying to prevent World War III. After Mr. Trump left the room, Mr. Woodward wrote, Mr. Mattis told people that Mr. Trump understood the topic like a “fifth or sixth grader.”

In another episode, Gary D. Cohn, the former chief economic adviser to Mr. Trump, “stole” a letter from Mr. Trump’s desk that the president had planned to sign, withdrawing the United States from a trade deal with South Korea. Mr. Woodward wrote that Mr. Cohn told a colleague that he had to “protect the country.” Mr. Trump apparently never realized the letter had disappeared.

In his interview with The Daily Caller, Mr. Trump denied that Mr. Cohn had taken the letter. “There was nobody taking anything from me,” he said.

Mr. Woodward also prints a summary of the July 2017 meeting written by a senior White House official who spoke with its attendees.

“It seems clear that many of the president’s senior advisers, especially those in the national security realm, are extremely concerned with his erratic nature, his relative ignorance, his inability to learn, as well as what they consider his dangerous views,” it read.

Mr. Trump himself was not a primary source for the book.

Mr. Woodward conducted most of his interviews on “deep background,” meaning he could incorporate the material without citing from whom it came. Throughout the book, he described settings and events with exhaustively reported detail, incorporating what he said in a note in the book were “hundreds of hours of interviews with firsthand participants.”

But, Mr. Woodward said in the same note, Mr. Trump declined to be interviewed, leaving the tale largely his advisers’ telling.

The Washington Post published audio of an 11-minute call between Mr. Woodward and Mr. Trump in which Mr. Woodward warned the president that his book would be severe, and expressed regret that he never had a chance to incorporate Mr. Trump’s view of his own job. Mr. Trump sounded incredulous that he never got to sit for an interview and defend himself to the author. Mr. Woodward told him that he made the request to at least a half-dozen people close to the president, and that it was never granted.

On the call, Mr. Trump sounded worried, repeating his refrain that it would be a “bad” book for him, and that Mr. Woodward did not understand just how successful he had been in office.

“So we’re going to have a very inaccurate book, and that’s too bad,” Mr. Trump said.

“It’s going to be accurate, I promise,” Mr. Woodward responded.

“Yeah, O.K.,” Mr. Trump said. “Well, accurate is that nobody’s ever done a better job than I’m doing as president.”

John F. Kelly, the chief of staff, quickly soured on Mr. Trump

Mr. Kelly, who has long been rumored to be close to resigning, once called Mr. Trump an “idiot” and said the White House staff was operating in “crazytown,” according to the book.

“It’s pointless to try to convince him of anything,” Mr. Kelly bemoaned in a meeting. “He’s gone off the rails.”

Mr. Trump came to be suspicious of Mr. Kelly’s scrupulousness, finding workarounds, such as calling members of Congress when Mr. Kelly was not in the room.

When Mr. Cohn tried to resign over comments Mr. Trump had made after a white nationalist march in Charlottesville, Va., in August 2017, Mr. Trump belittled him but persuaded him to stay. Mr. Kelly then pulled Mr. Cohn aside to express his dismay over how Mr. Cohn was treated.

“That was the greatest show of self-control I have ever seen,” Mr. Kelly said. “If that was me, I would have taken that resignation letter and shoved it up his ass six different times.”

Still, Mr. Kelly shared some of Mr. Trump’s paranoia about bad press.

“I’m the only thing protecting the president from the press,” Mr. Woodward quoted Mr. Kelly as saying in a meeting. “The press is out to get him. They want to destroy him. And I’m determined to stand in the way, taking the bullets and taking the arrows.”

On Tuesday, Mr. Kelly denied in a statement that he had ever called Mr. Trump an “idiot.”

Mr. Trump, apparently unconcerned about the rest of the book’s drama involving Mr. Kelly, posted the statement on Twitter on Tuesday evening.

#woodward #bob #Donald Trump #Bob Woodward #Politics #Fear #Unhinged #Fire And Fury #Omarosa #Michael Wolff #Crazy Town

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nchyinotes · 6 years ago

Text

Alt-Age: Designing Belief

May 19 2018

https://designmuseum.org/whats-on/talks-courses-and-workshops/alt-age-designing-belief

Thoughts: I found the first session on conspiracy theories fascinating (because I knew nothing about it beforehand, and the Trump analysis was very cool too), I liked Daniel Keller’s crypto starter kit profiles (and he was super nice, I had a great conversation with him after his talk!), and I thought Timandra put an interesting perspective to data profiling.

Trumped Up: The President and Conspiracy Theories

DR CLARE BIRCHALL

which conspiratorial theories are successful and which fail at explaining contemporary ?

conspiracy theory: speculative story that fashions historical/contemporary events as outcome of a conspiratorial design. often sits at odds with official story. it asks who benefits, and points the finger.

Richard hofstadter’s paranoid style:

all of history is a conspiracy

perpetuates the idea that conspiracy theories are totally other and unhinged

clinical paranoia vs paranoid style

conspiracy theorists are naive people who can’t really engage in the public sphere because they’re so irrational and ??

fredric jameson: conspiracism is often a symptom of something else

marxist

narrative is a v flawed attempt to map out the ever elusive social totality

system of overwhelmingly subjugating and repressive landscape

conclusion is wrong - it’s the faceless system of capitalism that is to blame

doesn’t take the form the left wants politics to take

lived experience of social injustice gets turned into a conspiratorial narrative

historical precedent informs the turn to conspiracy as explanation

justified fear that black people have about the way black bodies have been used and abused (ie. tuscany syphilis study) - institutional supported

ie. impotence, AIDS

—> tools of resistance used to galvanise a community - this is their social function or cultural work that they do (tanya??)

example of popular knowledge that puts on display undecidable nature of all knowledge. exaggerated version of modes of knowing. so share a lot with legitimised forms. risks showing us how all knowledge is ever theory, and legitimacy is conferred by mystical constructions. so this binary is drawn to secure our own position.

Trump

what kind of conspiracist is trump? He seeks to target and delegitimize three targets:

particular political opponents

institutions (liberal media, federal reserve)

any knowledge that threatens his interest (climate change)

trump’s style:

not as the sustained narrative that hofstader way, but uses conspiracist fragments to highlights gaps/doubts and dispenses with necessity of evidence.

never quite takes responsibility over theories, just repeats others.

“some people say”, “many people say”

meme friendly format

uses it as one tactic to disorientate and disarm

helpful ideas:

conspiracism can be employed for ideological reasons

conspiracism is often a symptom of something else

proliferation of conspiracy theories is due in part to fact that so many actual conspiracies have been uncovered during the 20th century

problematic ideas in age of trump

conspiracy theory is a pejorative term

identity of president, at white house, legitimises

conspiracy theories are tools of resistance for historically marginalised people

trump isn’t a minority lol

arise because it is not possible to limit interpretation or safeguard knowledge

idkkkk post truth era stuff

concept of fully agential, sovereign, cartesian individual who believes with their whole body and soul

fragments enter upon a thoroughly networked sphere, so they circulate virally

belief becomes distributed and exists within the network through method of circulation

belief without believers?

for many trump supporters, believing the theory may be of little importance. what builds is the impression of a figure that isn’t beholden to elitists, who says the unsayable. mode might be most important.

to understand role of trump here:

this isn’t the first time conspiracy theories have been expressed from positions of power but the info environment is different

languages of disenfranchisement can be mimicked and appropriated

must think about trump’s conspiracy fragments within whole range of post truth tactics

we might need to rethink the nature of belief in a digital, networked era

The Nouveaux Cryptoriche: A Consumer Profile

DANIEL KELLER

GINI coefficient - measurement of de/centralisation, all bitcoin and ethereum stuff is actually very centralised and unequal (wealth disparity of owner of wallets, etc)

within crypto: huge gender divide, white/male/millennials

all fairly libertarian and right wing in orientation - neo liberal logic that behaviour must be incentivised economically for anything altruistic to happen (ethereum, bitcoin, ripple)

motivation through economics = neoliberal + reactionary worldview

who are the cryptorich?

richest: white men, some asian men

starter kits: caleb, priscilla, andsprei, elijah, roger

PANEL DISCUSSION

With Daniel Keller and Michael Dieter. Chaired by Natalie Kane

spiritual/magical terminology in describing technology

manipulation as neglect (malice)?

no, intention in business model to maximise profits and attention, so no not neglect because its intentional

CA = great “accident” of this business model

mindless logic that goes into all the platforms we use today, addictive nature (brains have been completely rewired in the last 15 years)

digital dependency

neglect - politics of care ?

history of the whole science and technology studies being ignored

digital mindfulness - theres a genealogy to it

cyber culture + counterculture new ageisms

subversive tactics ?

florian kramer - subversive media

angela nagel - think of alt right in terms of subcultures and critiques of subculture theory

thinking more about continuities

platform capitalism fosters these communities - reaction of no platforming them? can further radicalise + alienate them

legitimate claim at being the alt bc of the monopoly on liberal terminology

understanding truth is based on an understanding of what non truth is or are ?

forms of behavioural economics were embedded into platform design - promoting mode of behavioural design. tracking, nudges, in the context of business propositions.

tokenising all possible economic activity, market of IOT

politics of attention - extreme edgelord ism results on 4chan

critique of behavioural dimension on platforms as being very causal

by saying these mechanisms actually work and lead to addiction, there may be a chance to launch stronger critique against platform monopoly and get them to bear more responsibility for certain dynamics we associate with them

is this a mistake, bc do we really know to what extent these mechanisms actually work?

micro targeting

distracts us from thinking through what type of longer term social issues/conflicts/antagonisms are being manifest through these types of dynamics (algorithm is revealing something that’s natural, given too much credit for this stuff)

these things work we need to regulate them vs ^

deemphasising determining role software may have in this (is ignoring the possible slippery slope tho, negligence)

targeting: sub culture of people who feel like you’re be targeted + tracked constantly by government, mental health, communities that reinforce mental illness

philosophical regulation (speculative design theory) being seen as against innovation

level of ignorance they’re trying to preserve

reinvestment of desktop as focused productivity, minimise work dimensions of mobile devices (redesign of mobiles)?

people who aren’t on social media right now aren’t shaping the cultural discourse ? - national and international influence

foam space app - decentralised proof of location, micropayment constantly for that

steem it

conspiracy vs speculative design

hyperstition

epistemology of reductionism

Was It Big Data That Won It?

TIMANDRA HARKNESS

resources diverted by govt in targeting voters - 2 types of people, bc otherwise its a waste of time (ie. already have a strong affiliation + go out to vote)

daniel scarvaloni - obamas campaign

how politics ad targeting works now - tailor messages etc

profiling, data brokers, inferred data

easily misprofiled / inferring is not loads better than chance

we’re calling everyone else the “gullible fools”, we’re not the gullible fools

problem is this model of humanity - people that can be measured, predicted, nudged in ways (more complex lab rats) vs people with whom we have to engage

Beyond Belief: Being Converted in a Post-Truth Era

DR MICHAEL DIETER

digital well being strategies part of new behavioural design paradigm to deal with distraction, scandals

wellbeing.google

managing unconscious user and guiding them into habitual behaviours/habits even when it may actually be contradictory to their intentions

“conversion”: language

obfuscation is part of the business model

sleepwalking into new forms of exploitation

targeted if you share traits with other fragments of users (segregating into segments) - dominant ??? of captivation

james bridle + youtube as the great radicaliser - targeting children on youtube

UX conversion

alt right conversion

like attracts like

center for humane technology (humane tech.com)

new design politics to be articulated? realignment of tech with humanity’s best interests. who decides on what these interests will be? these structures or dependant on this type of behaviouralism.

paternalistic rather than exploitative nudging

Detecting Fake News and Misinformation: Spotting the Common Themes

BARNEY JACKSON (FACTMATA)

fake news spreads faster than true news

creating a quality score for content, to serve to advertising platforms

creating community driven AI, automated algorithms for detecting 5 things

author credibility, publisher credibility, headline analysis, ad/media analysis, content analysis

^ how did you come up with the criteria?

“toxic content”

hyperpartisanship

#digital society #tech #2018 #conspiracy #event

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