#category is: drawings 11 year old me would lose their shit over

[zealfruity]

blorbos

[little-red-toyota]

Final good bye to the fandom

TW//Trauma, triggers, nsfw, sexual themes, rape, domestic abuse e.g.

This is gonna be a long ass post…

It has taken me a while to get emotionally strong enough to do this, as I will have to think back at some traumatic events from my past to address some of these things. That's why I waited until I got home from vacation with my family, as it will seriously affect my mood and mental health, and I want to be near my doctor and therapist, just in case.

And also, I know that the majority of those reading this will invalidate me and tell me I am making things up to clear my name. So, I literally have to torment myself to write a blog post people will just brush off as bogus anyway. But I will do it now that I am in safe surroundings. Then it will be off my chest, and I can finally move on. If people will continue stirring up the past, it will be their problem, not mine.

I think I should write one last blog post where I address everything. I have left the TTTE-fandom, but I will write that one as my final goodbye to the fandom. I just have to find out everything I've been accused of so I can properly address them all in order. I might leave out details of my life that is too hard for me to open up about. I know most of you will just invalidate me anyway.

1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

2. My mafia-AU.

3. The Darin incident.

4. Being a pedophile. (Where do they get this from anyway??)

5. Running the NSFW-blog.

6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

Is there more?

Ah... yes! Faking my own suicide, of course!

7. "Faking" being suicidal.

8. Having the audacity to survive and go on living.

9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

Anything else that needs to be addressed? What else am I being accused of? Send me a dm and I will add it to the post.

 Okay, I will bump the Stepney fic down a bit as it is the most traumatic thing for me to address, I will save that one for last.

2 and 3. The dark au/mafia au where I gave some TTTE characters some rather dark and unpleasant character traits, and the whole incident with Darin and the pedo-Salty was addressed in this blog post written by my husband last year, so I am not opening that can of worms again: https://little-red-toyota.tumblr.com/post/623743183795470336/in-light-of-recent-events

Even the thing about Toby cheating on Henrietta is addressed there.

As for the au, I never fully explored it as I started losing interest in TTTE around the same time. I found other things to enjoy and TTTE faded into the background and the au was dropped before I even wrote any stories, apart from the one about Toby and Henrietta.

Some people claim, like this lovely individual, that most of the characters were rapists and pedos. No, not most. Only one of each. And I did not write more than one story about rape and suicide. Where does this person even get that from? Someone who told someone who had heard from someone who might have heard….?

Don't spread rumors unless you are sure that they are true.

Anyway, it's all addressed in that blog post in that link. I don't see how this mafia au is any worse than other dark post-apocalyptic or violent aus. It mostly was about the diesel mafia and their illegal businesses, not about sex, even if it did occur now and then. I find the substance abuse in it to be more problematic tbh…  

 4. Being a pedophile.

I don't even know how to defend myself against this one, as I don't even know why people think I am pedophile. They only throw the accusation out with no backing evidence, so I have no idea where it comes from or what it is that makes people think I am one.

Apart from one claim that I had faved "porn" alongside "strangers'" baby photos on DA. I addressed that earlier though. As DeviantArt doesn't sort what you click "like" on, it all ends up in the same folder unless you actively go through it and sort it into categories, which I don't bother most of the time. It also doesn't say WHEN it was added to your faves. So, I can have faved an artistic nude on Saturday, and then faved my friend's family photo on Thursday. It's not like I actively search for porn, get all steamed up and then look at pictures of children. WTF.

The few children I have faved are not from complete strangers, but long-term friends of mine. Yes, it is possible to have friends on the same website. I have actually met a lot of my RL friends through DeviantArt. I posted photos of my daughter when she was a baby, they would fave it and congratulate me. So, I did the same when they had a baby. As simple as that. Nothing weird or perverted about it. Due to people doxxing me last year however, I deleted the photos of me, my husband and my daughter from DeviantArt, so it's no longer there.

Porn isn't allowed on DeviantArt anyway. The nudes there are so-called artistic nudes, and for the most part I use them as pose-references when I draw as it is easier to draw a pose using a nude base and then dress them up once you got the pose right.

"The very naked" centaurs I have faved. Well, I like the mythological creature Centaur. And as far as I know… they do not wear clothes, so how are they NOT nude? Look it up, it's a horse body with a human torso instead of horse head. I don't see them as sexual, but what do I know? Maybe YOU do?

I have no sexual interest in children whatsoever.

 5. Running the NSFW-blog on Tumblr and Twitter.

Yes. I was one of six people modding that blog. ONE of six, so I refuse to take the full blame here.

MerciResolution has openly admitted to being the founder, and she recruited me and some others to modify as the confession load became too heavy for one person to handle alone.

The original blog on Tumblr worked as follows: People would anonymously send a confession to our askbox, we would add a picture (sometimes photoshopped) to the text and post it on the blog. Always tagged as NSFW and with proper trigger warnings if necessary! The blog itself was also marked as explicit, so it didn't appear in searches and such.

For us, this blog was nothing but a joke. We did it for shits and giggles. If anyone took it seriously and thought we got off to the stuff that was posted, we apologize for that, but to us it was just for laughs. And we DID laugh a lot, you guys should have seen the weird shit people sent us sometimes!

We had fun and we never thought anyone would take it seriously, so we never thought of writing "joke" in the description or anything. It never occurred to us that it could be anything but a joke.

We also made a Twitter account for it, also locked for minors. But it was quickly hacked, and someone changed the password so we could no longer access it. We made another account and forgot about the old one…

After a while, the original mods started losing interest and the blog (both on Tumblr and Twitter) became less active. That's when a person I had known for years, and wrongfully trusted, came forward and wanted to take over ownership. So, the ownership was handed over to Russalita/Charlie.

That turned out to be huge mistake!

Me and the other mods had more or less forgotten that the blogs existed, when suddenly someone started bashing me and getting up in my arms over it. I got seriously confused as I hadn't been active on it in almost a year. But as it turned out, Russalita had removed the mature filters and made the accounts open for all the see. Even minors.

And as people knew I was one of the mods, they fired their guns at me. I can see why though, so I'm not pointing any fingers here.

I tried contacting her by phone, asking her to lock the accounts again, but she gave me a less than polite response, hung up and then blocked my number…

So, I decided to try to shut the blogs down on my own, trying the old passwords. It worked on the Tumblr-account, and I managed to password protect it, for some reason it couldn't be fully deleted. But the Twitter account had gotten its password changed by Russalita. I was however able to get a new password by logging into the e-mail we had used to create it. I deleted the Twitter blog fully. It can't be re-activated even if we wanted to. It's gone.

But it turns out the old, hacked one is still up and now open for everyone. And this one poses a huge problem as we have no way of getting into it to delete it. Only thing we have been able to do so far is reporting it and hope it will be removed by Twitter. So I only have one thing to say about it: report it.

I am no longer running any NSFW TTTE blog anywhere, nor do I have interest in doing so. So, if you come across one, claiming to be me or any of the other mods, it is false.

 6. Drawing penises/boobs on trains. Drawing age-regression art.

People seem to believe I have drawn genitals on trains. I have never done such. Any art on the NSFW-blog with genitalia on the trains were sent in by confessors and was not drawn by me. Most of them seems to have been drawn by someone who goes by the name "The Lance".

I HAVE drawn things for the NSFW blog, but there were no genitalia in those drawings. I drew Frank of Arlesdale looking grossed out by (I don't know what the part is named in English, but it is connected to the brakes of the engine) that stick-like thing on his bufferbeam being wet from whatever the confessor did to him. I drew an over-exaggerated comical pic of a horrified Peter Sam getting his face licked by his driver, who had an enormous tongue. I also did a couple of manips. Mostly maniping engine faces on humans, like the one where Gordon's face is on a less than fit guy flailing his shirt around, and the Arlesdale smallies' faces on a movie poster from Magic Mike. One with Mr.Conductor in a giant bun while Pinchy is applying ketchup on him, for a confession about eating him, I think?  I've done some more, but I forgot what it was, I only know I loved making them comical rather than erotic, as I saw the blog as a joke overall.

I HAVE also drawn aheago faces on engines because it looks hilarious. Though I have only drawn them on my OCs and the NRS engines, not TTTE characters.

Point is I have never drawn genitalia on trains. Ever. And I likely never will. It's not THAT much fun drawing NSFW stuff.

I see from this screenshot that a certain MK-Instrumentalist claim that all my personal art is age-regression art and infantilism…

Whose art have you been looking at? Because it's definitely not mine. I have drawn a couple of baby/chibi diesels… But claiming that all of my 700 or so artworks are depicting infantilism and age-regression stuff? I suggest people go have a look for themselves. I haven't drawn that. That MK-guy has been desperately trying to cancel me for ages for reasons only himself know. I don't even know the guy, and he doesn't know me, yet he wants to see me beheaded. Go figure.

I was for a long time bothered by some age-regressor on Tumblr who just wouldn't leave me alone with their weird asks, who tried to force themselves on me and some other artists here. They claim age-regression isn't a fetish, but the shit they sent to my askbox certainly looked like a fetish to me.

I don't want anything to do with that stuff. It weirds me out.

And no. I have never drawn pedophilia or rape art either. This guy can't even make up his mind on which one to accuse me of.

 7 and 8. Faking suicide and having the audacity to survive and go on living.

As many know, after the intense shitstorm against me last summer, thanks to Darin, I attempted suicide. I didn't succeed as my husband came home early. I was gone for a few days but returned when a young boy reached out to me for help as he was being groomed and didn't know who else to turn to.

Recently I saw a screenshot where someone claimed me to have faked suicide, and that I just came back after a few days when everything had died down.

Wow.

I am truly sorry I survived.

I don't remember much from those days to be honest, but as the load became too heavy and the bullying too intense, piling up on 30 years of old trauma… I decided to end it. I must warn you guys who might get triggered now; there are detailed descriptions of a suicide attempt. Proceed with caution. People told me I was a bad mother among other things, having had those same thoughts myself (according to my husband, I am a good mom) and people just confirming them, I thought that my daughter would be better off growing up without me. I could have chosen a more effective suicide method, but I was afraid my daughter would be the first to find me, so I wanted it to be clean and look like I was just sleeping. That way it could be explained as natural causes.

So, I decided to overdose on pills. I downed all pills I could find in the house that had a warning triangle on it (strong pain meds etc.) and then went to my computer to delete my online existence, especially the personal data.

As a former paramedic, I should have known better. Because after half an hour, my body started reacting. But not the way I had hoped and wanted. I started retching and almost vomiting. That's when my husband came home from work and found me. He immediately saw the empty packages and knowing my past suicidal tendencies, he reacted instinctively. He put his fingers down my throat and had me puke everything up, then he called an ambulance and had me admitted to the hospital.

I don't remember anything from the days I spent there. But I have been told they emptied my stomach and gave me lots of fluids. I was then assigned a psychiatrist which I am still seeing today.

I was gone for those days because I was in hospital, not because I was pulling some kind of trick and pretending to have ended myself.

So… I am sorry I "faked" my suicide.

I'm sorry my husband saved me. I am sorry the medics and doctors succeeded in saving my life.

I am sorry I survived and proceeded to live on. If I ever make another attempt, I promise to do better.

Why are you guys so persistent in trying to push people to suicide anyway? Do you get a kick out of it? Why do people have to be pushed to that point before you care?

What did we tell our daughter? Simply that I got sick and had to go to the hospital. She took that well.

I've seen a lot of people wonder why I am still around. Why shouldn't I? Does my daughter deserve to lose her mother over some online crap she doesn't even know about? I owe her to live and watch her grow up, to help her with her homework and whatever else a parent needs to do. I also owe my husband to stay by his side, like I promised him the day we got married. Even if I do not wish to live.

I'm sorry I survived, guys. Really, I am.

 9. "Making up" my past trauma to justify writing fics to cope with it. And 1. The Stepney fic and glorifying rape.

 First… why would anyone make up trauma? It's not like it's a competition to have the worst life, is it?

Sadly, I don't have to make up anything. My life HAS been rocky up until the birth of my daughter. I have been through so much trauma I couldn't even fathom it myself before my therapist listed it all up to me. Until then, I had just been casually talking to her about it, like I would talk about the weather. I didn't cry or get in touch with my emotions even once while telling everything, because I was taught from an early age to never complain, to suck it up and go on. So, no matter what people did to me, I would just smile and go on, even if it killed me inside. I did not want to show any sign of weakness, because then they would attack me. A habit I developed through years of being bullied in school. Never show feelings, just pretend nothing could hurt you, then they would eventually grow tired of it and stop.

Except they never did. They kept going through all my years at school. To such an extent, my boyfriend didn't dare to show himself hanging out with me out of fear of being bullied himself… And as we grew older, he would start cheating on me too. And I kept smiling…

My next boyfriend was a bit older than me, and while that didn't bother me, as we were both well over legal age, it bothered him. We only lasted one year before he bailed out and ditched me out of the blue via an sms.

The next guy… was the one who scarred me for life. Both physically and mentally. A charmer at first of course, until I was trapped. He was unemployed, so he moved in with me, and I paid for everything from food to phone bills. All while he was dating several women behind my back, calling various pay-phone services and in general acted like a manwhore. As I worked as an electrician (also being subject to massive bullying and sexual harassment at work), he would be jealous of all my co-workers and if I ever came home late or worked overtime, he accused me of cheating and was extremely violent about it. He would also isolate me from my friends and family, making me think I couldn't get any other than him. If any of my male friends (almost all my friends are male…) came over, he would give me such hell afterwards, it was easier just to tell them it was a bad time to visit. And after a while, they stopped asking. This guy also demanded sex. Every single day. If I refused, he would punish me, mostly by flogging me with lampcords, belts or whatever else he had at hand. My back is a criss cross map of old, faded scars even now nearly 20 years later. I would have shown you a photo, but I am so self-concious about my body after all the bullying, I hardly even show my face in photos. Maybe one day… but I certainly need more therapy before being able to show naked skin to strangers, even if it's just my back. So I had non-consensual sex with him more often than consensual. It has taken me hours in therapy to even take the word in my mouth and call it by its proper name: rape. I was raped, almost every single day for little over a year, before I found the strength to break out of the relationship and finally throw him out of my house. It all ended when I found some revealing texts on his cellphone, which he was extremely protective of… Texts that revealed that he had engaged in a relationship with a 12 year old girl, and it had been going on for a while. Not only was he cheating on me, but he was a pedophile too. Needless to say, I didn't even let him pack his stuff before I fetched my shotgun and chased him out of the house. I don't know where I got the courage and strength from… but I was furious.

I thought I had gotten rid of him, but no. He started stalking me in public. Hiding behind shelves when I was shopping, his car following mine everywhere I went. I received weird letters in the mail with cut-out letters from newspapers, glued together. On top of all, his creepy, old uncle called me with some rather disgusting suggestions and tried to come on to me really hard. I had to change my phone number, and after coming home to my house and finding out someone had entered my home using a key, only to empty the drawer of my night table, I also had to change the locks of my doors as he had clearly copied the key.

He didn't stop until I got the police involved.

So, when I finally met the guy who would become my husband (or rather, we found out we were made for each other, we had known each other since we were 11 years old), I had major trust issues towards men especially and it took him endless patience and love to break me out of that shell.

But the trauma doesn't stop… or start there.

In the year 2000, on January 4th, I would experience something that made me unable to even look at a train for over 10 years. The Åsta accident (google it). I was a volunteer in the Norwegian Red Cross then, and a paramedic in training. Back then, you were allowed to start training the year you would turn 16. So, I was still 15 when I witnessed the most traumatic event of my life. The day started out calm, we were stocking up the ambulance after delivering a patient to the hospital when we got a call with the code "500", which means "catastrophe". Normally when we get that code it is a rehearsal… so we drove towards the coordinates with the thoughts that this was just an exercise, nothing real… we didn't prepare ourselves mentally… And we ended up in the closest thing to hell I have ever been… The sight of the burning trains, the smells, the sounds, the screaming… I still wake up by nightmares to this day. Though the moment that haunts me the most is when the screaming stopped… because we all knew why… I don't want to go into details, but 19 people died that day. But we also saved 67 people. I try to hold on to that thought. The age limit for starting paramedic training was raised after this, as I wasn't the only one who was too young for an accident of that scale. Today it is 18. A memorial stone has been placed on the site, but I still haven't been able to bring myself to visit it, even if we drive past the site every year on our way to visit family further north in the country. I needed hours of therapy to even be able to ride a train after this. To have gotten to the point where I now volunteer at a heritage railway and is in training to become a driver, is a HUGE step for me. My next goal is to visit the site of the accident.

On to next trauma… A previous employer, a rather large electric company in Norway, whom I worked for 8 years. The first five years were great, we were a close-knit bunch of electricians, and we had a great relationship with the bosses and higher-ups. Our labor union was strong.

It all started changing in 2009 when we got new leaders… and those decided to get rid of everyone who were a member of the union. One by one, they started harassing workers in various ways, trying to get them to quit. In Norway, they need a legal reason to fire you, it's not enough to not like someone. There has to be a good reason to fire someone e.g. theft, neglecting work… Since they didn't have any reasons to fire us, they started making our work lives gradually harder and harder until we would break and find another job. Sadly, one of my co-workers couldn't stand the pressure… He bid us all farewell as normal one Friday and hung himself the following day.. But as I was a girl in a male-dominated profession, I had been taught at an early stage to ignore anything that would hurt me emotionally, just arch my neck and plow through. I kept doing that, despite starting to feel more and more mental and physical pains… even my co-workers pointed out how I was being mistreated before I acknowledged it myself. I tried to tell my boss, but he reacted by treating me worse. So, I went to his boss… and that's when things went to hell. Instead of doing his job and listen, he started harassing me too. He deemed my over-weight a problem, and he started demanding I gave him detailed lists of what I ate and how much I worked out… Completely illegal of course, but by this point I was broken down to the point I thought I was useless and couldn't get another job… so I accepted. He started accusing me of lying about my exercise, so I started training at the gym in the basement at work instead. One day, while I was there, he locked the doors and turned the lights off. There were no windows, no cellphone reception and hardly anyone walking by in that part of the building… I sat there in the pitch dark for 3 hours before I was let back out. I still get badly triggered by narrow, dark rooms and rooms with no windows. To such an extent, I jumped out of a small window on the second floor of a gym when I was in boot camp. I was allowed to train downstairs in the bigger gym with windows on all walls after that incident…

The harassment at work went on for years until I finally snapped, ended up at the hospital and got into therapy for the first time. I don't want to go into depth about what more happened, I just can't… I can't bring myself to write it all. Luckily, I had gotten more education while working, so when I graduated, another company called and gave me an offer I just couldn't refuse. So, I quit my job and never looked back, even if the traumas I suffered there still haunts me to this day.

Sadly, even after switching jobs, now getting a safe job with sane leaders… I started to relax, and that's when all my past trauma came washing over me. And one day, on while driving to work, I had my first serious panic attack. It started as this feeling I used to have at the old company; getting sick to my stomach and having the sense of someone being out to get me… then it developed to breathing problems… and I had to pull the car over. I broke into tears, struggling to breathe, stumbling out of the car to read the logo on its side just to reassure my body and brain that I worked for a different company now and there was no reason for panic. I called my boss and let him know, because he also was a "refugee" from that other company, so he knew what me and several others had gone through. He managed to talk me down enough for me to come to the office to talk to him. That helped.

I got back into therapy. A better therapist this time. But sadly, it got apparent that I could no longer work as an electrician as there was too many triggers. I was diagnosed with PTSD, severe depression, and social anxiety. I'm still working on these and get better slowly.

I have been in therapy for a long time now, and it was my therapist that suggested I wrote fics to cope and "write it out". I tried to make up my own characters for this, but never felt any connection. I was by this time in the TTTE fandom and had met people with similar trauma and pasts like myself, and I started roleplaying with some of them. Me and a girl from UK then agreed to try to rp/co-write a fic to cope with our trauma. We both found it easier to write about pre-established characters we had a connection to, even if it was an au that made it barely recognizable from the original source material. Only the names and some minor things were similar.

That fic was Stepney's Virginity Gets Lost.

Do we regret writing it? No. It helped us write out our traumas and helped us overcome some mental obstacles in out therapy process. Our therapists cheering us on, because we finally managed to break through the hard shell surrounding us. We both cried for the first time in years while writing it, some of it through roleplay, because some parts were extremely graphic and brutal and very mentally exhausting. We had to take long breaks between each writing session, so the fic wasn't written in just a weekend. But we got a lot of darkness out of our minds by writing all this. And we were definitely NOT aroused by it, like this pervert here claims.

It's when you dare to touch and feel the difficult and dark emotions, you can finally move along in the grieving process.

Should it have been posted online?

In retrospect, no. But at the time, we thought it might help other trauma victims, as we also found reading about other people's experiences and fictions touching painful subjects helpful to ourselves. So, we posted it, never expecting it to cause such a controversy 3 years later. In fact, we had more or less forgotten about it until it came back to bit us in the ass. Or rather, bite ME in the ass, as I am getting the full blame alone.

Also, despite what people claim, it was not posted openly for children to read. It was tagged properly and hidden behind mature content walls. If a minor chooses to break that wall, that's not the author's fault. It's the same as watching a movie with an age restriction way above your age, not the filmmaker's fault.

I think MerciResolution puts it nicely here:

"If your problem lies with you KNOWINGLY entering adult spaces when you’re a minor, ignoring all mature warnings that are literally SCREAMING at you “hey, this is what you’re getting into. Are you sure you want to proceed?”

That’s ENTIRELY on you. YOU are the fucking problem.

We’re marking mature things as best as we properly can. If you decide to ignore them, that’s your own damn fault. We’re not your fucking babysitters."

Also, I never posted the story on Wattpad, so if anyone has done that, it's not me. I posted the story on Fanfiction.net, DeviantArt and AO3, that's all. If it's posted anywhere else, it's not done by me.

I had honestly moved on from it when people pulled me back into it.

Other people who have done questionable shit in that fandom are easily forgiven because "they have moved on" or "changed". Yet, nobody believes I can move on or change…?

I had moved on; my interests had changed. But people won't let me, so here I am… Having to defend some crap I did years ago. A fic I no longer have any interest in.

I'm not even interested in TTTE anymore. I have moved on with my own book project now and I would like to focus on that.

So, deleting my TTTE content, whether it was the SFW or NSFW stuff, didn't cost me a penny. It actually felt like a relief. The only downside with it is that people now can't read it and make up their own opinion about it, but will solely believe in what others say, and those things are often seriously bent out of shape and blown out of proportions to such an extent it's barely recognizable.

If people claim that Arry and Bert rape Stepney in the fic, they have never seen it or read it. That's not what happens. That's just an assumption made by looking at the title and knowing there is a rape/torture scene in it. But I'm not gonna tell who the victim is or who performed it, because this is the only way I am able to tell who has actually read the fic or not, who is just trying to spread bullshit and who is actually telling the truth. The person in that screenshot, has no idea what he's talking about.

Does SVGL romanticize rape and abuse?

No, not in the least. It's described as the horrible, heinous acts it is and is in no way meant to be cute or romantic and definitely NOT something anyone should get off to. If anyone finds it sexy, that's their problem, not the authors'. If anything, SVGL might romanticize suicide, because one of the characters isn't able to cope with his trauma and chooses to end their life. Which is something I considered doing myself when I was in the darkest pit of depression. So, I apologize for maybe romanticizing suicide. The following chapters describe how friends and family handle the loss and grief.

It also describes a toxic relationship, where one of the parts struggles to get out of it. They eventually manage to break free, but it is not easy. This can easily be translated to my previously mentioned relationship, as it was my way of writing out my experience about how hard it is to break out of a relation when your partner has broken you down to the point where you no longer believe in yourself and your self-worth.

The last chapters start to gradually become brighter, as both our lives started getting better too. But we never really wrote the end because we both lost interest in writing TTTE content by that time and just left it hanging.

I'm not the only one who has written NSFW TTTE fanfics out there. But it seems like violence and murder is more acceptable than sexual things? I do wonder how brutally mutilating children's show characters are more tolerable than sexually abusing them. Neither should be okay.

Some content creators hide behind "it was a joke". I have been told that such topics that SVGL touches upon shouldn't be joked about… so I didn't do that, and yet it was wrong? So how should such topics be treated? Be hidden like it's a shame, like in the old days when rape victims were told to suck things up and keep it to themselves? When those subject to abuse didn't dare to speak up because people would judge them?

I think it is important to talk about these subjects and why they are so problematic. Victims shouldn't have to hide their trauma; they should be allowed to talk openly about it without fearing judgement.

Some of you claim that writing isn't a good way to cope… You're trying to dictate how trauma victims deal with their trauma, and that's a dangerous path to walk down. Nobody handles trauma the same way. You might have your thoughts on how you would react, but you'll never know until trauma hits you… and you might not react the way you had expected or planned. Trauma messes with your head and you won't be able to think clearly. It makes you do thinks you normally wouldn't have done and can make you act out of character. So, do not judge people without having been in the same situation yourself. Ever.

Someone wrote that I have "more problems that just a rape".

Read that again.

Just a rape.

This person does not know how damaging a rape can be. And if you made it this far in this post, you know I didn't only go through one, but several. Not just by my ex, but also being ambushed while I was walking home from a party, and later; a co-worker forcing himself onto me at a building site. I can't go into depth about them all, I just can't.

Just a rape…

"Just" the feeling of not being in control of your own body and your own decisions. "Just" being robbed off your dignity and self-worth. "Just" having someone intrude into your private zone, tear your clothes off and claim your body against your will. "Just" feeling how your life force leave you as you realize that fighting against it won't help you, and you silently give up and just lay down waiting for it all to be over. "Just" spending hours in the shower, scrubbing your skin until you bleed because you can't wash the filth away and you keep feeling dirty no matter how much you clean yourself. "Just" waking up at night, after having relived the scene again in a nightmare. "Just" looking over your shoulder wherever you walk because you heard something or thought you saw something or simply because someone is walking behind you. "Just" the fact that you'll never feel comfortable walking alone at night again or have someone walk behind you. "Just" never being able to relax because your body constantly think you're in grave danger. "Just" a rape…

That's such a neck-beard thing to say. Someone who clearly think of other people's bodies as property or things. Not taking into consideration that we are living, breathing individuals with feelings. And that having another person violate us isn't something we like or that we'll easily get over. We want to choose who we give ourselves to, nobody should be forced. We didn't ask to be raped. We didn't want it. We didn't like it.

Rape is trauma.

Yes, we should have chosen other characters for the story, but we did what we did, and it cannot be undone now. So, if the only thing I will be remembered for in the fandom is that ONE fic, instead of all my other content, that's what it will be. That's what people chose to. I'm moving on.

10. Being a nazi for being interested in WW2 history and for being Norwegian and having so-called nazi-letters in my last name (actual letters of the Norwegian alphabet).

*sigh*

This is something that could only happen in America, isn't it?

Some people don't bother educating themselves. The "nazi-letters" you guys are talking about is actually part of the Norwegian alphabet and has nothing to do with Nazism or white-supremacy to do at all. The Norwegian alphabet has 29 letters, the three extra is æ,ø,å or in capital letters: Æ,Ø,Å.

We can't help it if some morons over in the US abuse these letters as symbol of their twisted mindset.

Yes, my name contains one of those letters. It is my name… and I didn't choose it. It is a common Norwegian name.

As for me being a Nazi?

Those who knows me knows that I am as far from a Nazi as one can get. I despise Nazism with all my heart.

But the reason some people choose to believe so… was that some guy who has no hobbies or life went through every single fave I've made on DeviantArt since I joined the site in 2006, which is well over 20000 faves. And he found a few Nazi-characters from a web series I was following about ten years ago. I am very interested in history and especially WW2-history, so I found that particular web-series interesting and faved some artwork related to it. What this guy failed to notice is that I also faved the Allied characters… That's ALL there is to that story.

I has also faved a pic someone made of Joseph Goebbels (I think it was?) as a Pixar Car. That's not because I have any nazi-sympathies, but I simply found the concept of turning historical persons, both good and bad, into Cars as an interesting project. I would have faved any other historical Carsified person as well.

As for me being a Norwegian and have a natural pale complexion, that's not something I can help. That's nothing I choose. And it doesn't make me racist or Nazi. Period.

11. Putting a white-supremacist flag (the actual flag of Norway) on my porch on family birthdays and our national day.

Again. Get educated.

This flag… is the actual flag of my country. The Kingdom of Norway.

There is nothing Nazi about it. It is not a symbol of white-supremacy. IT IS THE FLAG OF NORWAY.

During WW2 it was even illegal, so people would paint it everywhere in a protest against the Nazi-occpation and the SS. We even decorated our Christmas trees with it, and that is a tradition that has followed us into the modern day.

Again, if some idiots in the US choose to use it as a symbol for their disgusting logic, it is not Norway or the Norwegians' fault.

12. Being a danger to my daughter.

I need people to elaborate here.

What exactly do you think I do to my daughter? What is the cause of your concern here?

The fact that I have made NSFW content? How is that harmful to her as long as I keep it away from her? You DO realize that even authors, pornstars and moviemakers have children and that they can be good parents, right?

Do you think I read pornographic content for her as bedtime stories? Or show her porn instead of kids TV? How sick are you guys, really…?

Some people even wanted CPS to take my child away from me… Have a look at these screenshots…

You want a happy, healthy, innocent child to be taken away from a stable, safe home with loving parents just because you don't like the content the mother made? You want her to be placed in foster care, where there is no guarantee that she will have a happy upbringing rather than have her stay with her parents who love her and care for her, for reasons she'll never understand and wasn't even aware of?

"Think of the children!" a lot of you say when it comes to my content. May I ask why this doesn't apply to my daughter?

Why do some of you go as far as to wishing her dead or wanting her to be removed from the home she feels safe and loved in? How is that thinking of the children?

As for the douchebag in that screenshot. You claim that if your mother did something like that you would want nothing to do with her… I have a question: Do you know EVERYTHING your mother do? Does she include you in each aspect of her life? Even her sexual life? No?

How do you know she doesn't do thing you don't approve of when you're not around? She could be a rabid pornmag reader for all you know. But stuff like that is something adults hide from their kids. So, you wouldn't know, unless you go snooping around in her business.

Everyone is entitled to privacy. What I and my husband do when our kid is not around is our business, not hers, and certainly not yours.

Porn and parenting are to be kept separate from each other. Period.

And we do.

There is absolutely no reason to be worried about my daughter. She is a happy, healthy child in a safe, stable home with family that loves her and cares for her. Not just me and my husband, but also grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

If you want to remove her from that over a stupid fanfic behind a mature content wall, you're the deranged person, not me.

 This is all I have to say about all this and my time in the TTTE fandom. I have left by my own, free will. Yes, I am aware that many people don't want me there. That's fine. I don't want to be there.

I am a bit disappointed in those people who just blindly unfollowed me and unfriended me without any questions asked, just followed the leader. Big users tend to dictate who and what is worth following in that fandom. They will even protect real predators, but I'm not going to open that can of worms now. I'm done with the fandom.

Some of those people, I have been talking to regularly, even supported when they faced hardships in the fandom themselves. But when I got in trouble, they ditched me without a word…

If anything, this whole ordeal showed me who to trust and not, and who were true to their word when it came to how deep our friendship was. True friends at least give you the chance to explain before they drop you. I hold no ill feelings to those who did, at least they asked me before judging.

And those who still stayed with me, are the ones who truly know me and who I really am.

Some of the worst libels posted about me might be reported to the police, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I am not mentally strong at the moment, so I don't know if I have the strength to legally follow it all up. I will ask the cops at work for advice on the matter.

All I ask for now is some peace.

You don't have to like me. You don't have to follow me. You don't have to like my content. Feel free to invalidate me, I know a lot of you will.

But please, stop bullying me and my family.

Please stop sending me horrid messages and death threats.

Please stop doxxing me and calling me.

Please leave my family alone. If you don't care about me, at least care about them.

Please just ignore me. I have already left the fandom, there is no reason to keep hunting me.

I just want to move on and go on with my life and the content I am currently working on. After years in therapy, my life has gotten better, and I want to move on.

Please let me.

[javathewildone]

Ty Chronicles - A Walk to Remember (Pt. 13)

Summary: Meghan Donovan is a girl no one pays attention to until the day Ty Borden discovers something about her that so closely relates to his own life he finds himself becoming attached to her. But the closer he gets, the worse things become. And no one makes it through unscathed. The first installment of the Ty Chronicles saga. Set pre-Heartland/pre-juvie/pre-group home. Told in first-person through Ty’s point of view. Rating: M for adult themes Author’s Notes: Hey, look! It was exactly one year since I posted a chater for this one. *facepalm* I’ve changed direction with it so many times it amazes me I still remember wtf I was doing. Trigger Warning: adult content including prostitution Parts: P | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8  | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

"You're really not going to tell me how you got Maisie to trust you enough to open up about Meghan?" I asked, discarding a useless three of clubs down on the bench between us. It had been over an hour since we ran into the mysterious Maisie. After a while of me sitting and fidgeting and looking suspiciously like I was jonesing, Seth dug out a deck of cards from his grocery bag and we were now three games into a Gin tournament.

Seth took a moment to move his cards around. "Your tender virginal ears couldn't bear the sensual details." He discarded a six of hearts.

My brow rose. "You used sex in exchange for information?" I almost couldn't believe it.

"See? The very idea makes your head spin, my prudish little friend."

I scowled. "I'm not a prude, Seth. Virgin, maybe, but I've been around the block a time or two. What surprises me is that you're not."

Seth leaned back, aghast. "Beg your pardon, fella; I happen to be very popular with the ladies. Cougars, particularly, like Miss Maisie back there. They just devour my boyish charm." He smiled broadly as if to flaunt said charms.

I snorted. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume the other night wasn't your first time hanging around here."

"And you would be correct," Seth said, lowering his gaze back to his hand. "You gonna make a move, or what?"

I picked up his card, arranging it in my hand. "Well…?"

"Well, what?"

"You and Maisie. What's going on there?"

Seth shrugged, picking up my discarded two of spades. "I'm a refreshing break from the skeevy old men who leave the money on the nightstand on their way out the door."

Never, in a million years, would I ever think to discover this startling revelation about one of my good friends. Then again, we didn't often talk about such things. Meaning relationships. Which, I suppose this would fall into that category. My fraternization with Meghan seemed to be the catalyst to jar that particular topic of interest. Their desire to know the dirty details of our interactions only made their own love interests fair game. Already startling truths were being revealed.

"So, you've actually… with her?"

"Done the dirty? Sure." Seth admitted it so casually, like it was no big deal for a 15-year-old kid to have sex with a lady of the night. Like it wasn't illegal, forget about immoral. But, when put it into the perspective of where we were and why we were there, I really shouldn't be as stunned as I was.

Still, I fell into contemplative silence, mulling over this idea of my friend – who was younger than me – having done more with a grown woman than some guys older than us have done. Than I've done. And I thought I was hot shit for hitting the sexual milestones I had. But my contemplation over Seth's sexual escapades took a dark turn when I considered Meghan being the one subject to those things with the skeevy old men Maisie dealt with. The thought of them touching her in places I never dared sent an explosion of rage through my veins. I couldn't bear being inside my own head anymore with this knowledge of Meghan working this very street. With what little I knew of the situation, I was able to conjure up every filthy scenario of her being groped, abused, assaulted, molested, and even raped. It scared me to death while at the same time fueling my protective instinct that used to be solely reserved for my mother. That uninhibited need to prevent the bad things from happening or to go head to head with them when just stealing her away wasn't an option. I felt that familiar tension building in my shoulders now.

"Ty. Hey, man." Seth nudged my hand. "Your go."

"I'm done playing." I said, my tone implying I didn't just mean our card game.

"Look. I know it's not right, but we're two consenting people and I don't appreciate you judging me for it." Seth said, his voice clipped as he gathered up the cards.

I realized then that he thought my abrupt change in demeanor was because I didn't approve of his lifestyle. "I'm not. It's none of my business. I appreciate you looking into Meghan for me, but now that I know… I just can't stop thinking up all of these terrible things happening to her. She's not like you, or Maisie. I can guarantee her consent is not given freely."

Seth visibly relaxed, his defensive expression softening. "I just hope we can do something to actually help her. "

"Me too." I ran a hand anxiously through my hair. I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait before succumbing to my own imagination and losing it completely.

"Hey, watch this." Shuffling through the cards, Seth selected three then set the rest aside. Settling himself on the edge of the sidewalk he laid the cards out before him. Lifting each in turn he showed them to me. Queen of hearts, five of diamonds, and ten of spades. "Follow the lady." With the dexterity of a casino dealer he shuffled the cards around and around until satisfied then gestured for me to choose.

Huffing a sigh, I humored him and pointed to the center. His mouth quirked as he lifted the card to reveal the ten of spades. "I made two hundred bucks one afternoon playing this game downtown. You'd be amazed how flustered people get when they think they are being clever. They just kept throwing money at me to best themselves." He revealed the Queen then set her back down to shuffle again.

I didn't bother to wager any actual currency, knowing full well I was not in any state of mind to follow a fake lady when my thoughts were reaching toward a real one. My attention wandered to every vehicle and person that came our way. It didn't take Seth long to get bored of my half-hearted guesses.

"You gotta stop looking so suspicious," he commented, picking up the rest of the cards and giving them a hard shuffle.

"Aren't we suspicious enough loitering on this bench at this time of night?" I was waiting for the cops to pull up and ask just that. What answer could we even give them?

Seth shrugged. "No one really asks questions this part of town. But you looking around like that will for sure draw some unwanted attention."

"I can't help it." I leaned back to stare down at my shoes.

"There you go; that's better. Down on our luck and despondent is what we're going for."

I shot my friend a glance in the form of an eye roll. The click of heels drew our attention then as Maisie sauntered up with another young woman – not Meghan, to my dismay. She brushed Seth aside to sit between us, gesturing to her companion. "This is Clara. She's another novitiate." I hoped she meant to use that particular term ironically.

Clara smiled softly at me, not sparing Seth a glance. I smiled back to be polite, but my attention wandered to Maisie. "Have you seen Meghan?"

"You're Ty." It was Clara that spoke, commandeering my focus. I assumed she learned that from Seth, or from Maisie who learned it from Seth.

"Yeah." I curbed the rest of that sentence. They all knew why I was there; it seemed like a waste of breathe to ask again about Meghan. If I took away anything from that evening it was to be as discreet and cryptic as possible. Anyhow, my impatient expression was sure to speak for me well enough.

Clara's smile only widened at the affirmation. "Come with me." She stood, grabbing my hand as she did to pull me up with her.

I threw a confused glance over my shoulder to Seth, allowing myself to be pulled to my feet but no further. My friend only nodded in encouragement and tossed me his deck of cards that I caught against my side. "Follow the lady."

Unsure what to make of his double entendre, I figured I trusted Seth this far, I might as well go all the way. Pocketing the cards, I let Clara pull me down the street.

"Put your arm around me," she insisted when we paused at the corner to cross.

"What?" Startled, I tried to pull my hand from her grasp but she tightened her grip.

She finagled my arm to drape across her shoulders, tugging me closer into her side. She wrapped her arm around my waist as we crossed the street, ducking her head against my chest as she laughed. "Look like you mean to be here. We're going to meet your lady friend, but we can't look conspicuous. Pretend we're headed some place for a good time." Despite the giggle in her voice, her words were firm. Understanding, I let my rigid posture melt, leaning into her a bit and even fabricating a stumble to feign intoxication. This made Clara laugh for real. "That'll do, Pig."

I let her guide me, trying to pry what bit of information I could through slurred murmurs into her ear. But she was hesitant to divulge the plan in open space where anyone could be lurking. The most I got was that we were going to a motel. The sight of it made my stomach clench. I'd been in motels like this one before where nefarious activities were being conducted right beneath the nose of the greasy-palmed night managers.

I watched, eyes wide, as Clara dug into her cleavage to extract a key and unlock one of the rooms. She didn't explain. I didn't ask.

Immediately, I scanned the room hoping the door would open to Meghan sitting on the bed waiting for me but the room was empty. Clara tugged me in, roughly shoving me down on the bed with a giggle and nudged the door closed with her foot. Utterly stunned, I caught her at arm's length before she could dive on top of me. If this was Seth's way of trying to make me get over Meghan, I was going to be sincerely pissed off. But Clara was pulling out of my grasp to approach a door within the room I initially assumed was the closet. She knocked twice with her ear pressed to it before there was a click and it opened a crack. I jumped up, craning to see who she was speaking to in hushed tones when the door opened wider and she stepped through. My heart jumped into my throat when Meghan came from the other side, her back to me as she eased the door quietly shut and locked it.

I stood frozen, staring at her back. I refused to allow my eyes to trail away from the bare skin of her shoulders. She was wearing a halter top and a skirt so short I was frantically trying to erase the slight curves of her ass cheeks peeking through the bottom of my vision. That same male part of me I was loath to admit reacted to such atrocities came to life as it had before. I swallowed hard, wishing for once I wasn't such a hormonal teenager and willing it away before Meghan could turn around.

Too late.

I stood straighter, clasping my hands in front of me to try and hide my shame as not to make her feel any worse about herself than she surely did. My eyes widened at the sight of her. I'd never seen her in make up before, except for concealer. But even that couldn't cover the black and blue painting the side of her jaw.

"What do you want?" Her voice shook and just like that I had nothing left to hide as I let my hands fall to my sides.

"You look…" I wasn't sure how to finish that sentence without sounding like an asshole. She didn't look like the Meghan I remember. Not just the skimpy attire but her hair so tightly curled and half knotted onto her head while the rest brushed her bare shoulders. Gold hoops hung from her ears, but it was the purple smoky eye shadow that drew my attention to her light eyes. I had to choke down the word "hot" pretty hard when Meghan's expression steeled.

"Like a floozy," she finished.

I blinked. "Um. I was going to say older."

"Same difference." She crossed her arms, waiting for me to answer her initial question.

I moved closer, pausing when she stiffened. My heart sank. Were we back to that now? "I was worried about you. I came to make sure you were okay."

Meghan's jaw popped. "Does it look like I'm okay?" She snapped, making me wince. Of course she wasn't okay. I knew even before seeing her she wasn't going to be okay. Nothing about this was okay.

"I needed to see you," I continued, desperate to find some bit of the relationship we tried so hard to hold together. "I was scared when I hadn't heard from you for so long and I knew better than to try to make direct contact after what happened last time."

"Okay. You've seen me. Now, if you'll excuse me I have a client." She turned to go and in a burst of panic I lunged for her arm to prevent her from doing so. Unfortunately, I hadn't thought about what I was doing until it was too late and Meghan was wrenching herself from my grasp, reeling away from me in utter fear.

I let her go, throwing my hands in the air. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Just, please, don't leave."

Folding her hands around her arms, Meghan closed in around herself, breathing heavily and not meeting my eye. "Please. I-If you're afraid of losing money I'll pay for your time."

Once again I realized my error too late as Meghan flashed me a scathing look. "Fuck you, Ty."

I didn't think my heart could sink lower, but was still insulted she would even consider I thought that way. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

She breathed out a sigh. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just if I don't leave this motel with payment this time Daddy will turn my whole face purple."

"Daddy?" I asked, assuming she meant her stepfather but still finding the new title for him rather disturbing.

Meghan's face reddened as she dropped her gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "That's what he demanded I call him when I'm... working."

I tried not to let my nausea show too plainly as I reached for my wallet, pulling it out along with the deck of cards. Digging through the folds I took out all the cash I had, counting it quickly. "I've got thirty-six dollars." I glanced up cautiously to meet her dismayed expression.

"That won't be enough." She shook her head, glancing toward the door where clearly a bigger pay day awaited her. Or rather Daddy.

Suddenly, Seth's parting "follow the lady" popped back into my head as I fingered the deck of cards. Flipping open the top I pulled them out to find two hundred dollar bills next to the Queen of hearts.

I held up the cash, silently thanking Seth for his master planning. "How about two hundred and thirty-six dollars?"

Slowly, a small, dare I say relieved, smile crept across Meghan's blood red lips.

[dalekofchaos]

The First Order:Incompetence and Overconfidence

The First Order (EST 5-21 ABY [After Battle of Yavin]/1-17 Post-Return of the Jedi) was formed in the wake of the collapse of the Empire following the defeat of their fleet at the Battle of Jakku (5ABY, 1AE [After Endor]). Various imperial hardliners and diehards fled into the Unknown Regions of space to establish a new Empire, fix the mistakes of the old, and one day return to defeat the New Republic that had displaced them. For 30 years the First Order grew and developed into a formidable force, yet was not seen as a threat to the New Republic. The true size and scale of their power was kept hidden intentionally, lest the Republic be provoked into acting against them in any meaningful way, the Resistance was seen as an allowable way of keeping them in check, but it was more like a plug in a dam, when the dam is cracked all to hell and back. It is heavily implied that the New Republic was already addled by corruption and bureaucratic bloat in just the 33 years it had been established, so the fact that they had no real idea that the First Order had an Ultra Star Destroyer and that they were hollowing out a planet to build a super-weapon can be forgiven through this conceit. The “Resistance” is funded by a few small contributors, has few ships (one capital ship and three support vessels), and relies on being small so as to be easily hidden. To contrast the Rebel Alliance was funded by former Republic senators, armed by resistance groups, and provided ships of even capital scale by races such as the Mon Calamari; it was, by in large, a popular movement. Yet the Rebellion and the Resistance face threats of similar scale.

So how does the First Order fuck up so badly in killing such a small number of “rebels?” Simple answer? Mass incompetence. Complicated answer? Incompetence combined with overconfidence.

Who Makes up the First Order?

Take whats been discussed already, the officers of the former Empire retreat into the unknown regions to rebuild, who will these officers be? Its very likely that they fall into a small number of categories; first among them your hardliners, dyed in the wool Imperials who needed to escape the end of the war, we can count these people as among likely the best trained and the most realistic believers in the Empire of old; second are those who weren’t good enough to be part of the main fight and werent bad off enough to let it be over; and third, your dregs, men scoured from the old Empire, people who had been assigned to punishment posts and back-water details, but they have training, and they can be useful. These people make up your base, and they can be built upon as time goes by, but in the beginning this is what you have. Impressment, population growth, and recruitment can be another driving factor towards establishing a force. For the next 25 years the First Order would grow and develop out of the shadows of the Empire, establishing their own officer corps, their own ships, and their own designs but still heavily influenced by their forebears.

Lack of Experience

But none of those new troops would have the same level of training, they wouldn’t have the foundational schools, the true pedigree needed. No active wars to train officers in, or soldiers for that matter, everything would be war game and simulation, they wouldn’t face the same scale of consistent internal threats the Republic would go on to face for the 29 years in between such as piracy, warlords, and civil conflicts; with an Iron Fist those kinds of threats could be stamped out in short order before they could flourish. So their new officers have no idea how to fight a war properly, or even badly, they just have theory and the experience of their older officers to draw from. Indeed many of the more senior officers in the First Order had many reservations about the new generation and their capabilities, as seen with Captain Canady of the First Order Dreadnought Fulminatrix, the man knew he was dead, and he knew it was the incompetence and inexperience of the fleets leader, General Armitage Hux that was to blame for his demise.

Starfigher Corps Incompetence

This deficiency can even be seen in their starfighter corps. Take for example the battle in the skies above Takodana in the Force Awakens, yes, sure, Poe Dameron is an ace pilot, but in a single maneuver around the combat area he shoots down no less than 11 enemy fighters in under a minute, that puts him above and beyond any fighter pilot ever seen in Star Wars media and in the real world makes him an ace twice over. There is luck, and then there is improbable incompetence. Its no wonder that the Resistance was able to continue fighting over Starkiller base after losing more than half of their X-Wings when their kill ratio can be as high as 11:1.

Incompetent Leadership

On to the First Order’s leadership in general, General Hux, Kylo Ren, and Captain Phasma.

General Hux -Military Leader of the First Order.  Hux is only 34 years old, he literally aged with the First Order, he was five when the Empire fell, turned 18 roughly 13 years after the establishment of the Order, and is somehow the highest ranking member of their military, yes he betrayed his father, who had been high ranking before him, but that hardly warrants him becoming the military leader of the entire First Order. He has no military experience, his formal training is much in the same sense as British dilettante generals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and his emotional outbursts while in command betray this whole-cloth inexperience and lack of maturity. Hux is a caricature.

Kylo Ren -Enforcer of the Dark Side. Kylo Ren is doing his best Darth Vader impression… while also doing a fair whiny Anakin impression only without a sympathetic backstory. Also prone to emotional outbursts and destroys expensive and important equipment for the ship. I’m surprised he hasn’t destroyed The Finalizer by his outbursts. Kylo Ren isn’t a leader, he’s an enforcer, there to be the voice of Supreme Leader Snoke, and he’s genuinely menacing… up until he takes off his mask in the Force Awakens. He was the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa, nephew and Padawan to Luke Skywalker. Snoke chose Ben Solo because of his powerful light and dark side. And.....he turned to the dark side, killed The Jedi, betrayed his family and joined The First Order because his family was trying to build a better galaxy for him...... Because Han and Leia chose to put their life into the rebellion and not enough time into him, that’s why he fell. “My loving parents who doted on me and gave me the best in life also wanted to help other people and rebuild a wartorn galaxy. It makes me so mad just thinking of it!” The lesson apparently is spend more time with your child instead of building a better world for him otherwise he’ll shoot up a school, join a fascist organization and blame his every action on his family and constantly harass and gaslight the one girl who peaks his interest. 

Captain Phasma -Stormtrooper Command Captain Phasma is an odd bird, she would’ve been ten when the Empire fell, but we already know she wasn’t born into imperial service, or into the First Order, she joined, willingly, as an outsider. She has genuine martial capabilities and informal training, having been a clan military leader on her planet where combat was a part of daily life. After joining the Order she gained actual training which only helped to develop the skills she had developed naturally and its suggested she went on to train much of the First Order’s stormtrooper corps. Shes almost better for NOT being in the First Order from its inception because it gave her access to real experience. And yet she is entirely underwhelming on screen, being taken by surprise, suffering from total overconfidence, and seemingly being more flash than substance. As the triumvirate of the First Order its no wonder their military victories are… lacking.

It's the economics of the thing

So how does the First Order do anything at all? Money. Money is how they are successful, money is how they stay competitive. And Supreme Leader Snoke is the source of those funds. The Supreme Leader isn’t wise, hes just an incredibly rich old darksider who has chosen to invest in the First Order because he has a fetish for opulence and military parades. Infinite money can buy you a great many things, an actually experienced military seemingly isn’t one of those things! Imagine if you will a group of guys who think they are the worlds hottest shit at Call of Duty, now give them the newest in military hardware, heartbeat sensors, night vision, body armor, the works, yeah they’re a lot more deadly than your bog standard guy without that gear, but against an actual military unit? They get the floor wiped with their corpses. All the fanciest hardware in the galaxy doesn’t mean shit if you don’t have the experience to know how to use it to its capabilities. So yes, they have an Ultra Star Destroyer, and they have Stormtrooper legions, and they have planet bombarding dreadnaughts, but what they don’t have is the experience to use all those things effectively. The TIE fighter still sucks, still doesn’t have reasonable shielding, and while there is a special version with a turret and rear gunners seat, doesn’t seem to count for much unless Poe Dameron is flying it.

So we’ve established overconfidence in their capabilities and equipment, they’re the best equipped force, they have super weapons, they have a fleet, and yes, they could destroy the Resistance with ease… makes random whack-a-mole motions if they would JUST. SIT. STILL.

Incompetence in Escort Tactics

Let talk about their incompetence. Hux is goaded into allowing a Starfighter into point blank range with one of their fleet’s more valuable assets, he doesn’t launch a fighter screen to keep that fighter at bay, and when a real danger is detected, still does nothing. Captain Canady is left to launch his own fighters from Fulminatrix, and gets no support from Hux or the rest of the First Order fleet. Hux doesn’t launch support fighters, direct their batteries to put up defensive fire covering the dreadnought, nothing, no he’s too busy massaging his bruised ego because some flyboy put him on tilt with what amounts to a practical joke, and an 8km long warship pays the price for their incompetence.

Conflict with the Force Awakens

Now, to note, the First Order doesn’t seem all that incompetent in the Force Awakens, or at least not nearly as much as in the Last Jedi. They deploy a reasonable number of fighters, put a serious hurting on the Resistance X-Wings, and lose because base security wasn’t tight enough because they didn’t think an aging freighter with a crew of 3-4 would be enough to cripple their super weapon. Realistically if Han, Chewie, Finn and Rey hadn’t bombed the facility the Resistance would have lost. And if Phasma was a die hard FO loyalist, if Phasma chose to activate the security alarm instead of lowering the shields. The Resistance would’ve lost if JJ Abrams cared about making Phasma a character instead of a toy.

Incompetence when Pursuing the Resistance Fleet

And now onto the chase, or as I like to call it “the dumbest bit of military nonsense since the Emu war.” You have the First Order Fleet chasing the Resistance flotilla, supposedly the Resistance fleet is “faster” but they aren’t opening the gap between them and the First Order because… it would burn more fuel (because inertia isn’t a thing in Star Wars Space)? So they stay just at the extreme range of the First Order’s guns, and the Raddus has to be on the receiving end of a potshot every once in a while. Meanwhile said Resistance ships are flying in a straight line, direct away from the First Order fleet, so why not just set course past them and Hyperspace in front of them and catch them in the middle? Are interdictors at play here? Are they content to just think the fleet will run out of fuel and they can just catch them? It bothers me to understand that the heroes are only alive because of the gross incompetence of the First Order, because it doesn’t speak well to the capabilities of the heroes.

Incompetence in Ground Invasion

So now the Resistance is stuck on Crait, the First Order knows they are there, we know implicitly that the First Order has more than one dreadnought in their fleet, we also know the Resistance is fresh out of bombers. Maybe instead of calling for a costly ground invasion just call in another dreadnought and finish the job once and for all. This isn’t next level thinking, this isn’t superior tactics. This is using a rock to smash a bug levels of thinking. But they don’t, they land a ground invasion bigger than Hoth and bring a mini Death Star with them. Note again, that while Hoth was defended by more men with better equipment, Crait is defended by a quarter as many with rusting, dilapidated equipment… but it was enough to keep the Order stalled for Luke Skywalker to video-conference in.

Leadership in said Invasion

Which brings us to the a point concerning leadership and the ground invasion, it takes a screaming General Hux to get guns to stop, I guess because everyone is scared shitless of Kylo Ren, and then he’s treated like a rag doll in front of his men, again. Hux isn’t a true leader, Hux is a moron.

Failure to Blockade and Control the Theater of Operations

But more on the invasion, there is apparently no fleet around Crait, no blockade, no nothing, because the Millenium Falcon is allowed to escape completely unhindered and unchased by the First Order with the remaining resistance fighters aboard. Yeah, you read that right, the resistance can now fit on the Falcon, but no, they didn’t lose, they live to fight another day, by the grace of the Order’s incompetence.

Final Thoughts

In conclusion, you have a raw officer corps that has no idea what its doing yet has displaced and replaced many of its senior experienced officers. A leadership that is wholly unsuited to be such. All the equipment in the galaxy but none of the experience. And a total lack of understanding of tactics. They are a group that desperately wants to be seen as the Empire, complete with angry triangles, white armored soldiers, and poorly armored flying death boxes. Maybe they should be the ones following Kylo Ren’s advice and allowing the past to die. I mean, if they can’t win even when the odds are ridiculously stacked in their favor, do they deserve to win?

[browsersbooks]

(via Donald Trump: All of the Worst Fictional Presidents Rolled into One)

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It never is. Political satires aren’t real—they’re not predictions, they’re warnings. They posit a construction that’s intended through exaggeration or deliberate distortion to illuminate how things really are, the hope then being that people will come to their senses. When Jonathan Swift suggested in A Modest Proposal (1729) that “a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled . . .” he wasn’t actually proposing that the solution to over-population and child poverty in Ireland at the time was a more imaginative, outside-the-box approach to cuisine. He wanted to shock people into an awareness of the original problem.

Now, perhaps this is an imprecise analogy, but the recent election of Donald Trump to the American presidency has (for many people) the feel of a satire gone horribly wrong. It’s the one that got away, a warning, replete with exaggeration and deliberate distortion, that has morphed inexplicably into our everyday reality. It is as though “infant’s flesh seasoned with a little pepper and salt” were suddenly an item on the brunch menu and we all just had to get used to it.

But before this election cycle, in terms of satire, was there a warning, a fictional version of events that we should have been paying more attention to? Well . . . call me naïve, but in the absence (so far) of an outbreak of actual fascism in America, I’m going to hold in reserve for the moment the great speculative triumvirate of Jack London’s The Iron Heel (1908), Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here (1935) and Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America (2004). But apart from these, the answer, I’m afraid, is not really. Nothing quite makes the cut. There are novels and films that reflect certain aspects of what’s happening now, but no single work is capacious enough to address the whole bonkers equation. And with the entire election cycle fitting neatly under the rubric of “you couldn’t make this shit up,” is it any wonder?

Broadly speaking, however, the works I’m thinking of fall into two distinct categories—those that deal with the power and influence of the media, and those that deal with politics, and specifically with the role of the presidency. While there is often considerable overlap here, what we usually end up with are two separate stories. It is only in the figure of Donald Trump, in his campaign, and in what we imagine his administration will be like, that we find a perfect fusion of these two themes into a single story.

The works dealing with the influence of the media have tended to be sensationalist, and sometimes even hysterical. It’s also significant that the two most interesting ones were said, upon release, to be ahead of their time. Both Elia Kazan and Budd Shulberg’s A Face in the Crowd (1957) and Sidney Lumet and Paddy Chayevsky’s Network (1976) feature central characters—Lonesome Rhodes and Howard Beale—that eerily prefigure the Donald Trump of 2016. They both “tell it like it is” and “articulate the popular rage,” and they are both very much creatures of the Tube. Lonesome is closer to the Donald, in that he is a rank opportunist who knows what he’s doing, a celebrity demagogue on the make, and there are also some uncomfortable parallels: the beauty pageant stuff and the cheerleader competitions, for instance. But what A Face in the Crowd is essentially warning us about is what can happen when a powerful personality is amplified by a popular medium such as television. Network’s Howard Beale, on the other hand, is more a force of nature, one that cynical executives find they can harness to increase shareholder profit—the warning here being that news will inevitably become entertainment, itself just another way for the vast college of corporations to tranquillize our anxieties. In the end, Lonesome Rhodes is brought down by an open mic (which may seem quaint to us today) and Howard Beale by poor ratings.

The second category of story draws its power from the reverence people have for the office of the presidency itself. Unassailable, Mount Rushmore-like, this isn’t something you mess with—in reality, that is. But in fiction there’s a rich seam of fantasy and speculation to be mined. From 1932’s The Phantom President to the recent television series Designated Survivor, this is the great what if that gives us the illegitimate president, the accidental president, the president with no filter, the puppet, the lookalike, the ordinary person plunged into the role as a result of extraordinary circumstances. The vicarious thrill here is in imagining what it would be like to sit in the Oval Office and not be constrained by rules or tradition.

It’s just that in nearly every example of this you can think of, sentiment (in the form of an irresistible urge to do the right thing) wins out, and the natural order is too easily restored. In Ivan Reitman’s Dave (1993) presidential doppelgänger, Dave Kovic, is a sweet-natured and thoroughly decent guy who tries to push through a budget that will benefit the homeless and the underprivileged. In Warren Beatty’s Bulworth (1998) a senator loses his filter, tells the truth, and almost raps his way to the White House. In Designated Survivor (the perfect love child of The West Wing and 24) low-level cabinet secretary and convenient everyman Tom Kirkman ascends to the presidency when everyone else, including all of Congress and the Supreme Court, are wiped out in a terrorist attack. But there’s nothing radical or challenging here. Instead, what we get is a sentimental narrative, a sort of Little White House on the Prairie for the post-9/11 world.

Perhaps the most chilling version of this second category of story is Being There, Jerzy Kosinski’s short 1971 novel which was later filmed by Hal Ashby. In it, Chauncey Gardiner is an empty vessel, a sort of holy fool, who is anointed as a future president by a cabal of political and corporate insiders. A fable about the vacuous nature of our culture, Being There’s ultimate sting is that America allows itself to be reflected in the musings of an innocent man-child who doesn’t read newspapers and only watches television.

You begin to see the problem, though. All of these examples are, in their way, tantalizing—prescient ripples from the past, loose shards of significance here and there, but never enough of them in one place, and never quite fitting together neatly enough, to shake us out of our complacency—because none of these characters is sufficiently like Donald Trump. Lonesome Rhodes started out as a dirt-poor hobo, Howard Beale was a decent man who just ran out of bullshit, Chauncey Gardiner was a blank slate, Dave Kovic was a saint, Jay Bulworth was played by Warren Beatty, and the only person Tom Kirkman wants to be like is Jed Bartlett. So, for all their re-defining of media norms and flouting of White House conventions, none of these guys is really up to the task. Trump, for his part, and in a single story, has crushed both sides of the equation. On media influence, he has weaponized Twitter in as spectacular a fashion as others once co-opted radio and TV for their political purposes. And on the role of the president, by behaving in the real world more or less like a villain in a Batman movie, he has effectively deflated over two hundred years of institutional gravitas, and may just as well have dynamited Mount Rushmore to smithereens in the process.

So his is a big story, and it requires a considered response. But there’s a long way to go yet, and maybe looking for warnings from the past is to miss the point. It’s the enormity of what is happening right now that needs to be examined. When Sinclair Lewis was writing It Can’t Happen Here in 1935, he was looking directly across the ocean at Europe. Orwell’s 1984 is really about Stalin’s 1948. And both A Face in the Crowd and Network, overcooked as they may have seemed at the time, definitely spoke to anxieties that were very real to contemporary audiences. Even today’s undeniably entertaining Designated Survivor struggles to shake off an angsty gloom, reflecting as it does a wider insecurity about “normalcy” in the political landscape.

So, assuming nothing untoward happens, First Amendment-wise, it will be interesting to see what emerges from the next four years. Good reporting and investigative journalism will be essential, but extremely valuable too—as so often in the past—will be what the novelists, screenwriters and showrunners come up with.