#discovered i can actually draw what i want recently cause people will get mad anyway and i want JON TO BLUSH SO BY GOD
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took him 3 seconds in evil superman earth to have damian screaming at him, what a man
#tom taylor works hard but i work madder#discovered i can actually draw what i want recently cause people will get mad anyway and i want JON TO BLUSH SO BY GOD#jon kent#damian wayne#robin#superman#superboy#at some point i will have to stop tagging jon as superboy wild shit#my art#batman#dc comics#supersons#damijon#forgetting tags is my passion#ladies. gentlemen. you have eaten well.
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Television Heaven // Rafe Cameron
Summary: As the each day passes, you fall for Rafe Cameron solemnly and irretrievably.
A/N: This song made me think of Rafe. Actually, I was thinking of Rafe then I started to listen to this one. Anyway, I was planning on something different but it got out of control. So it has really nothing to do with the song. Hope you enjoy anyway.
It might contain grammar and spelling mistakes cuz it's not my native language.
Every move you made, you made after long considerations, with caution. You questioned every little detail, calculating every probable outcome so strictly, sometimes you end up missing the chance to carry it into action. Just because you didn't want to find yourself in a situation that would make you embarrass and hurt yourself or just would make you feel something, you always choose the right and short way to do things. The logical one but the one no flowers grow. You held yourself back when you encountered with something so beautiful that may change your life, you just refused it, ignored it because you wouldn't know what to do with it. You ran away from anything in sight that may make you an idiot for doing it or make you weak, helpless; therefore you stayed away from anything unsolvable, complicated even. You didn't know everytime you ran away, you come closer the edge of falling apart. You've lived your life so guardedly, you've actually never lived. You come to understand that you never made any effect on your life, never pushed the buttons of the controlling panel of your life although you always tried to keep everything on your control. You didn't make things happened, things only happened to you. The day you became aware of this ugly truth, you also discovered a hole inside you. A hole which you use to suffocate any heavy, intense sensation you might feel. Now, it was the one taking control of you.
Lately, everyone around you was able to notice that something's wrong with you. Changed, you looked like you were fading away. You were disappearing more and more, the each day you realize the things you didn't do or things you wanted to say but never said. Because any time you don't say what you wanna say, you die a little. And you died very. Reminiscing the moments you stole from yourself pushed you an edge and you were standing the very edge, unsteady. One day you lose your balance, you start falling and you've been falling since.
The strong liquor on your lips never dried, you kept sipping one after another. You were never drunk on life before, you might actually get drunk at least. You were tired of filling your glass constantly, you left the glass on Camerons' table and head for the bottle.
"Are you okay?" Kiara asks hesitantly. She noticed something was off recently but she didn't think it will last this long. Normally nothing would affect you so long. But now, something in your eyes was missing and she didn't know what was it. She wanted to help you but didn't know how because you never needed any help before.
"Yeah, " you smiled to her slightly so she could see you can still do it and it was okay. The problem was your lips and your eyes didn't match. "You?"
She just nodded as an answer but the suspicions she had was still there. She didn't want you to be alone so when you refused to hang out at the beach with the rest of the gang, she came with you to the kitchen. But you knew, she wanted to be out there so you should gett her off the hook.
"Hey, " you said to draw her attention. "Let's head outside. I am bored here sitting."
"You sure?" She asked. "You wanted to come inside?"
You smiled, forcibly, lately every smile you gave was like that. "Yes. It turned out to be a bad idea. "
"Okay, " she said when she got up, you had to also. She was ready to walk away before you stopped her. "I'm going to hit the bathroom first. You go. "
She looked at you unsurely. "I'll wait."
You laughed, you were a little lightheaded from standing up swiftly but you didn't drink enough to get drunk yet. But she thought you were. You wished you were too. "I can pee just okay without you waiting, Kie. Tell them I'm coming and determined to drink whatever out there."
Eventually, she ended up leaving you and as soon as she was gone, you let yourself fall on the sofa again. You just needed few minutes before you head outside.
The Pogues have started becoming the huge part of your life not so long ago. You think the awareness hit you just after you met them because they were the most animated people you've met. They were full of spirit although some of their lives weren't always bed of roses, still they managed the find attraction and beauty in other things. You admired them before, now you envied.
The cold hit you as soon as you stepped outside but you liked feeling the breeze on your bare arms. The cold was all you feel anyway. You knew exactly where your friends at, before worrying Kiara any longer, you made your way to them before you saw of a guy that one beer bottle in his hand and the other hand in his pocket. Watching your friend from afar. You pushed the urge of considering if you should go near him or not. You were going because you didn't go so many times before.
"Hey, " you let him know of your arrival. His upper body moves to face you only to see you looking at him with your unfinished bottle on your hand. He turned back to keep watching his sister and the junk she brought along with her. He never ever liked them and he never will but he had to behave because his father told him to. Rafe could only behave himself to a certain extent. He tried to stop himself making their life like hell but failed so many times that you forgot how many times you had to stop himself from hurting your new friends. He was mad at Sarah bringing them into your lives and he was mad at you for joining in this quest and defying him about this matter. You knew Rafe felt like the Pogues were the ones blame for everything that goes wrong in his life and almost anything he does and and he has goes wrong. Yet he was almost sure they were guilty of everything that happened. He had a temper and an addiction that makes it worse. He was confused and lost in so many ways, he was all over the place. Regarding the fact he wants do right by his family, friends and by you, he always and always ends up doing the worst of there is. Rafe's choices was never right and until that moment, you couldn't picture yourself being jealous of him because still, he had a say in what he had done with his life. The kind of life you regret having maybe, however with the pills mostly, he thinks nobody has it right but him.
Rafe was angry at his father, at himself and at you. He was angry at everything. He no longer knew what has left for him anymore. He has never received anything from his father but the disappointment he caused him. The things used to be his now was taken over by others. His part of the island, his so called values, his friends even and you too. Rafe knew you for so long although you were almost distant with everybody, you shared a huge deal of time together. Mostly because you had close family relationships and Kooks hanged out together all the time until his little sister violates that rule.
"Your new friends turned you into an alcoholic, huh?"
He said coldly as possible, still bitter about you stood between him and JJ Maybank and chose him over him. Well, he didn't expect you to be on his side because you would never. You had principles or some kind of shit he lacks, however he didn't expect you to be on his side too.
"My oldest friends couldn't turn me into an crackhead, I thought I might as well try this one." You said, trying to sound as cold as him but you couldn't make it last so long. "You look like you hadn't drown yourself in snow."
He faced you. "Yet."
You smiled looking at the ground and it was a real one. Rafe was frustrated to so many and sometimes to you but you like to talk to him sometimes. All the time, probably. You didn't know exact amount because you started avoiding being around him for too long after sometime in your life. Because you felt your heart pounding in your chest in a way that so weird as he talks to you and looks at you a little too long. You couldn't take the risk of acknowledging that feeling and letting it grow.
"No lectures about how I shouldn't do it?" Rafe asked you surprisedly. Because he wouldn't hear the end of it generally.
"Would you take them seriously?" You said. Somehow, you felt like grinning like a idiot and you didn't stop yourself from doing it. You asked him, one brow lifted up, playfully. Not like the times you fake being playfull. For real.
As you talk to him, he was about to forget he was mad at you. He grinned at your way. "Nah."
And the way he smiled it was so deadly, but he felt so heavenly just like that.
"You see, I've learned my lessons." You say to him and he just shrugges.
Rafe wasn't the type to approach people with an passive aggressive attitude. He would go with full active. But tonight, what he felt the most was so sickening feeling like sorrow but not, destructive one like hatred which he usually feels most. Therefore he looked calmer outside but the war was going inside his mind and his chest. Yeah sometimes even he had one of those melancholic days.
You felt uneasy as he wasn't even looking at your way to answer. It was like you didn't get what you came here for. He just stood there, making you wondering what he was thinking of at the moment.
Your eyes caught JJ, looking worried as his eyes searched for you in the crowd then they found you. He paced towards to you, seeing Rafe, he thought you might need to be saved from him. "Hey, where've you been?" He asked you after he sent brief glares to Rafe and he recieved the same ones in return. "We were waiting for you."
Rafe felt so regarded before by everyone else, he knew you would have gone. Again.
"You coming?" JJ had to ask as you didn't say anything.
"I think I'll stay here for now. " You sounded so clear that although Rafe was surprised that you wanted to stay, he didn't think he heard you wrong.
"Are you sure?" He said and couldn't stop himself from looking at Rafe. Rafe hated that look and the way he was being protective of you like he would hurt you.
"She said she'll stay, didn't she? Beat it."
JJ turned to Rafe, his jaw clenching in anger. "I don't remember talking to you man. " He sounded hostile as possible.
As Rafe took a step towards to him, JJ was also ready to pick up another fight so he didn't hold himself back.
"Hey, hey!" You had to step in and pushed them away from each other but it was hard because they were always so willing to beat each other up.
"I'm tired of doing this again and again. " You left your hand on Rafe's chest but didn't move the one on JJ's, the one also holding the bottle. He didn't have much common sense either but still was better than Rafe. "I'm sorry to ditch you guys but I need to talk to Rafe."
JJ had seconds thoughts but he left you eventually. Rafe went back to being silent and didn't even ask you what was you wanted to talk him although he wondered.
"You had to be the alpha, didn't you?" You asked just to hear him answering.
"This is my house, I am the fucking alpha here." He spits nearly. He tried his everything to not make a scene but it was a hard battle he had fought inside. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him, the way he's so annoyingly silent and the way he looks so mad but hurt at the same time was confusing you. You couldn't know you either hate him or hug him so tightly that he should never feel broken again. You knew all he did, he did it to make everyone around you to love him.
"Are you angry with me?"
"Is this what you wanted talk about?" He stares at you, answering your question bothers him so he doesn't.
"No." You said. No use of him confirming his anger, it was obvious.
"Just cut the to chase then. Your boyfriend waits for you."
You reached for the cup in his hands and it took him by surprise. "He's not my boyfriend." You said as his eyes widened by the sudden move from you, trailed your hand until you threw the cup to the ground. Then they turned to see your expression to figure out what you up to. You were a little too close.
"What are you doing?" He asked slightly angrily, slightly astonishedly. His pink, soft lips moved so beautifully, you had hard times focusing on his eyes.
"I want you to be sober for this."
You smiled as you grabbed his hand that held the cup the seconds ago. He was baffled by your soft touch, something was different about you tonight.
You pulled him with you and he didn't move at first as he tried to make sense of what you are doing. This was as strange to him as it was to you because your remember how many times you avoided being close to him. When you were talking to him casually or you were fighting with him, you felt so uncomfortable when you get too close to him. He was like this stunning and mesmerizing thing you felt his energy all over you but if you touched him or stay too close, you would get burned. How many times you wanted to hug him, hold his hand, pat his shoulders but you just didn't...
"What are you doing?" He asked, you had a loose grip on his hand and as you two moved swiftly, he was scared that it might break off. "Where are we going Y/N?"
"Be patient just for once."
And he had to be, however he never liked not knowing what's coming for him.
"Are you drunk?" Rafe said as soon as you stopped in front of him, making it to your destination. His eyes wandered around the balcony to see If there's something he sould notice but he's missing. But there were only you and him.
You rolled at your eyes the fact everyone's assuming you're drunk when you never felt so sober and wide awake before until now.
"No, Rafe. I am not." You even left your bottle at the beach.
"Why did you bring me here?"
You had to let go of his hands but your eyes never left his face. There was something with him that you could never understand before. You look at him and never want to see anything else. You could watch him for hours and days and still wouldn't want to look away. How foolish you would sound if you said these out loud.
Rafe waited for an answer but all you did was stare at him blankly.
"Why are you being weird Y/N? You high?"
You walked towards to the edge and left him behind you but turned away to see him, leaning back on the parapets. You had this idiotic smile on your face that just can't go away when you see him. You kept it hidden all this time but no longer fight the feeling.
"No. I am not drunk. I am not high. How many times I have to repeat myself?" You didn't sound sarcastic or angry, on the contrary Rafe found your tone extremely cheerful and it left more confused with the the situation.
"But you don't seem that way. " He admitted. The girl he knows was earnest, restrained and would do what what expected from her. It was annoying to him time to time because you were perfect example people-his father- gives when how he should be like. You were decent and kind, type of person who knows what to say to the people older than you. You were more relaxed and fun when you were with close friends. He liked that you could do it many ways but he always found you hard to get to. You would only let people in -or only him to the some point and would just go ice after that point. You were sharp with your words too If you wanted to and would know where to hurt when you want to hurt somebody but you only did to him once or twice. Probably they were the only times you actually went so cruel with anybody and Rafe was the only person could enrage anyone despite of how calm this person is. Rafe thought you had a side that you kept in secret and he was aware and impressed by that.
Now, you stood there, your hands on the parapets and your head tilted to your side with a small smile on the corner of your lips. You didn't look that weird but the energy you radiate was most peculiar.
He looked up and down. "You seem different."
The way he sound was like a melody. "How come?"
He only shrugged his shoulders and watched you giggle, breaking the silent night with it. You didn't know why you did it, it just got out of you.
Rafe took a step towards you, his eyes squinted with worry. "Are you okay?"
"Oh my God, could you just stop it? I am fine Rafe. "
"Then speak. Why did you bring me here? You're acting insane as fuck." He was impatient now and you were a little upset he thinks you are insane. So being out of your character just for a night and even he thinks you're insane. Your mood was spoiled.
"You can leave If you want. I didn't bring you here to fight. "
You sounded hurt and he couldn't comprehend how did you get too sensitive. You would scream at each other and you wouldn't even fling.
"Okay," he said to ease the tension. "Just tell me why are we here."
His words didn't bring your cheerful attitude back but you still continued. "Do you remember the summer two years ago? You and Sarah stayed here when Rose and your dad went to Caribbean's along with Wheezie?"
Rafe nodded slowly, wondering about why the hell you were bringing this up. "Yeah, we threw the biggest party this island has ever seen." He said little proud with himself.
He hoped the way he chuckles would make you all giggly again but you kept a straight face.
"It had started as fancy party at first. Sarah and I really wanted it to be like Midsummers because we wanted to feel like grownups in our fancy clothes." You smiled softly with remembering all of this. "And Topper was down with the idea because he wanted attention from Sarah. We even convinced you to it."
"And I remember we end up trashing the house at the end of the night though. "
"It was a mess." you said with a small smile that was gone so quickly. You approached to him slowly, with a serious look on your face that finally resembles to your normal self. "Do you remember you put on your dad's tuxedo and it was short for you because you became a giant that year?"
Rafe nodded firmly he was nervous of your serious expression. Now, you were only a step ahead of him and you were searching for something in him that he had no idea what. "I do." He brows squinted. "I had to take it off."
" You put on your ball cap when everyone wore a bow-tie." You smiled sadly, when you remember it hurt how good he looked that night. You'd remember him like that way forever.
"You were too drunk that night. I don't think you remember and it probably didn't matter to you," you cleaned your lips with your tongue. "We were here, alone, and you told me I looked beautiful in my sundress that night."
You felt a warn sensation on your cheek and your vision got blurred before you realize you are crying. You didn't know why because you finally felt so relieved you got this out of your chest. "And I couldn't forget that moment how much I tried to. "
Tears kept falling from your eyes, not matter how hard you tried to keep them in. You were tired from deceiving yourself about Rafe and pretending like you don't feel the way you do. Keeping this hidden from him and yourself. And you hated that you're crying and being so emotional and vulnerable now.
You wiped the tears and able to stop yourself although when you finally managed to look at Rafe, your vision wasn't all clear.
He looked at you as If you are not real. When you didn't get any reaction from Rafe, you were ready to drown yourself in bottles. You couldn't believe how stupid and naive you became in a week. This was the reason you never told him. This was the situation you didn't want to put yourself in. Just like that, a tear warmed your cheek again.
Rafe reached for your cheek, cupped it in his hand hesitantly. His heart shattered when you cried. And it was because of him. His hands left you naked, staring at him and wishing you were dead.
"How can you like me?" He asked, the words didn't almost make it out of his mouth and you weren't able to see his blurry blue eyes because of your own.
You cried a little more to his words. It hurt you how he thought he was unlovable. Yes he was mean, confused and a total mess but he was so much more. Maybe he didn't knew what to say or what to do all the time, maybe everything he did was wrong but he had good intentions. He was damaged and wounded by so many places. He was chaotic, problematic and it was probably wrong to mant to like him. Yes it was hard to love him but you did love him with every inch of your body and soul. You put your hand on his cheek and his skin underneath your palm was the smoothest things you ever touched before.
"You're beautiful, Rafe." You said and you just didn't know how to explain the way you feel. It was too much, too powerful.
"No." He stepped back, shaking his head side to side. He just couldn't believe you. You... of all people, knew how bitter he is and liked him? You were amazing and breathtaking in so many ways, you could do so much more and deserve so much better. And he was wretched soul, not even his father loved him. How could you possibly do?
"Don't fuck with me, okay?" He was angry at you playing with his mind like this. You were being cruel again, hitting where it hurts. "You don't." He said it like it is impossible for someone to love him because somehow, it was for everybody around him.
"I do."
He looked at you like you committed an unspeakable crime. Like you were trying to deceive him into that he has what he always seeked for. "Don't fucking lie to me. You don't." He said and a tear fell from his eyes. "You.." he had to take a deep breath to continue. You... A creation that is above him. "You can't."
If he only knew how he made you feel. If he knew how many times you pushed back the thoughts of him when they suddenly came to you and made your days unbearable. How you convinced yourself that he doesn't mean anything to you and felt sick in your stomach when you saw him with another girl and wished it was you instead. He had a possession in your heart without his knowledge and today was the day that part declared its freedom.
"But I do, Rafe. I spent so much thinking that it's nothing, thinking it is wrong, but I just do. I don't care if it is anymore, Rafe. I always tried to do what's right, it got me nowhere. If this is wrong, then I don't wanna be right."
You brushed his hair back and he was breathing heavily in your face. "Don't push me away." You whispered. "Please."
"I might never be this brave again." You kissed him, slowly made your lips as one. His skin burned you when his lips felt like heaven. When he gently kissed you back, you felt like nothing in this world could make you feel better than this.
Although you needed him more than the air your lungs lacked, you had to pull away. Your breaths melded with each other and now you got a taste of it, you didn't want to stop. Your lips once more was intertwined with his and they danced softly on yours. As your movements became more passionate, he followed you replacing his hands on both of your cheeks and pushing himself closer to you as if that was even an option, If it were, you'd do it sooner.
You wanted more and more. The scary truth that's been invading thoughts had no chance of fighting with the desire you were burning with. Him not loving you back as you do love him would kill you tomorrow but tonight you were born again.
#outer banks#rafe cameron#drew starkey#rafe obx#obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine
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Saw something in the further reading section of Michael Kulikowski’s Imperial Tragedy (Profile, 2019) today:
There are countless books on the fall of the western Roman empire, and more appear annually, with variable scholarly trappings but nearly all quite conventional. Still, ripping yarns and neo-Victorian analyses can be found in any bookshop. So, for those so inclined, can thinly disguised nativist tracts on how immigration (and ‘immigrant violence’) brought down the empire. To name names would be invidious.
I thought this was a dig at Peter Heather, Professor of Medieval History at King’s College London and author of The Fall of the Roman Empire (Oxford, 2005) and Empires and Barbarians (Oxford, 2009), so I looked it up and discovered that not only was I right, but Kulikowski has serious beef with the guy:
Peter Heather has been fiercely criticized by members of the so-called Toronto School of History. Michael Kulikowski, who belongs to this group, has accused Heather of neo-romanticism and of wishing "to revive a biological approach to ethnicity". Kulikowski claims that Heather "manifests a clear methodological affinity" to the 19th-century writer of the Goths Henry Bradley.
But Kulikowki’s beef is nothing next to the righteous fury of Guy Halsall, Professor of History at the University of York:
Guy Halsall has identified Peter Heather as the leader of a "counter-revisionist offensive against more subtle ways of thinking" about the Migration Period. Halsall accuses this group, which is strongly associated with University of Oxford, of "bizarre reasoning" and of purveying a "deeply irresponsible history". Halsall writes that Heather and the Oxford historians have been responsible for "an academic counter-revolution" of wide importance, and accuses them of deliberately contributing to the rise of "far-right extremists".
Halsall got so mad at Heather, first at the 2011 Leeds International Medieval Conference and then online, at his blog, that he threatened to leave academia entirely:
Well, it's more or less a year since I started doing this blogging lark 'seriously' (the inverted commas are obviously necessary). And, as they say, what a roller-coaster of a year it's been. I've shut down the blog twice, brought it back twice, come to the verge of formal complaints being sent to my university twice (once justifiably, once most certainly not), lost at least one friend, lost 99% of the respect I had for someone I had hitherto held in high esteem, quite possibly lost the chance of a job I wanted because of this blog, taken some pretty visceral abuse, and so on. All good fun!
On the other hand I have learnt some lessons. One is that even bastards have feelings. Another is that if you have twenty-odd followers and maybe 100 hits a day, that (allowing for hits from people looking for something else, like Elizabeth Kostova's novel The Historian or ever-popular balding guitarist The Edge) does not mean that only twenty or thirty people in the whole wide world read your blog. Thus you need to be a bit more careful about what you say and how you say it. I've also learnt that eminent historians don't always read what you write very carefully, and just how deeply-ingrained the elitist culture of the British historical profession is, as well as just how few principles are actually held by the overwhelming majority of the practitioners of said profession. And this in response to something that I actually thought long and hard about how I wrote.
And as a result of all this I have realised that no good is going to come of me continuing to smack my head against the glass ceiling that those of us not from 'a particular socio-educational background' (you know the one) eventually run up against. I have instead come to the decision, essentially, to give up on it and 'seek my fortune' elsewhere than in the confines of the academic career-path, as it is now constructed in the UK at any rate.* I'm actually quite excited about this as I think it offers a lot of possibilities, creatively and ethically. It's been a liberating decision. Those of you who know that I set most store by the writings of those co-opted into the canon of the existentialists (almost none of whom ever called themselves by that name) will appreciate exactly why I am proud of this decision.
To some extent it makes up for the bad faith I showed in backing down and removing my post on why it matters to get angry about the lazy and irresponsible (indeed, yes, just downright knuckle-headed) way in which some historians in and/or produced by our most prestigious Thames Valley-based university write about politically and socially sensitive topics like migrations.
Halsall ultimately sanitized the 2011 IMC paper that started the war with Heather -- the neutered version is still up on his blog -- but the original was apparently quite something:
Perhaps unsurprisingly for those who’ve heard him speak or read him on the Internet, this was the one that really started the war. [Edit: and, indeed, some changes have been made to these paragraphs by request of one of those involved.] The consequences, if not of this actual speech, at least of its subsequent display on the Internet, have been various, unpleasant and generally regrettable, and I don’t want any of them myself.
Thankfully, the purged parts of the original were reproduced by some noble soul on the Civilization Fanatics forums before they were lost to the ages:
Thus we can have Ward-Perkins’ sneering parody of late antiquity studies and Peter Heather’s distortions of counter-arguments. In many people’s minds the choices before us are evidently, either, that nothing happened, or, that there was a huge catastrophe caused entirely by invading barbarians. Obviously this is not the case. Plenty of people other than me -- most famously, Walter Pohl -- have written about serious, dramatic change happening in the fifth century without blaming it on the barbarians and without denying that there were migrations in the fifth century. Yet this -- if I dare call it such -- third way seems nevertheless to be very much a minority position.
But I am not convinced that a simple lack of exposure to sensible alternatives really explains the continuing, fanatical devotion to the idea of the barbarian migrations, especially outside the academy.
I have recently said that:
“When a British historian places an argument that the Roman Empire fell because of the immigration of large numbers of barbarians next to arguments that the end of Rome was the end of civilisation and that we need to take care to preserve our own civilisation, when another British historian writes sentences saying “the connection between immigrant violence and the collapse of the western Empire could not be more direct” [a direct quote from Peter Heather’s Empires and Barbarians (Oxford, 2009)], and especially when the arguments of both involve considerable distortions of the evidence to fit their theories, one cannot help but wonder whether these authors are wicked, irresponsible or merely stupid.”
Obviously, these are not mutually exclusive alternatives.
Are these writers setting themselves up as ideologues of the xenophobic Right or have they simply not realised the uses to which such careless thinking and phrasing can be put? You can draw your own conclusions, although it is worth noting that Ward-Perkins has been happy enough to write on this subject for the neo-liberal magazine Standpoint, which regularly publishes pieces attacking multiculturalism. There comes a point when one has to admit that actually the most charitable explanation for all this really is that these writers are simply a bit dim.
Outside academic circles, it is certainly the case that the adhesion to the idea of barbarian invasion has a heavily right-wing political dimension. Apart from the barbarians’ role as metaphor, already discussed, it is worth, very briefly, thinking about the other reasons why people are so ready to pin the blame on the barbarians. Slavoj Zizek’s Lacanian analysis of antisemitism provides some valuable ways forward. Essentially, the barbarian, like the figure of the Jew, acts as a screen between the subject and a confrontation with the Real, which Zizek sees, slightly differently from Lacan, as the pre-symbolised; things that haven’t been or can’t or won’t be encompassed in a world view. Zizek showed that arguments that “the Jews aren’t like that” are almost never effective against anti-Semites because what real Jews (or actual immigrants, one might say) are like is not the point. Similarly, arguments about the empirical reality of the fifth-century cut little weight with those wedded to the idea of Barbarian Invasion. Just as the anti-Semite takes factual evidence as more proof of the existence of the international Zionist conspiracy, the right-wing devotee of the Barbarian Invasions sees factual counter-arguments as manifestations of the liberal, left-wing academy peddling its dangerous multicultural political correctness. I have read a great deal of this on internet discussion lists -- including a review of my own book, and one of James O’Donnell’s! Michael Kulikowski received a similarly-phrased review from a right-wing academic ancient historian.
The barbarian is the classic “subject presumed to”. The barbarian can change the world; he can bring down empires; he can create kingdoms. The barbarian dominates history. “He” is not like “us”, enmeshed in our laws, our little lives and petty responsibilities. The barbarians -- and you only need to read Peter Heather to see this -- are peoples with “coherent aims” (a quote), which they set out single-mindedly to achieve. No people in the whole of recorded human history have ever had single coherent sets of aims. Well -- none other than the barbarians anyway.
Halsall has never resiled from his belief that Heather was essentially a fascist, nor backed away from his commitment to resign from his post in righteous indignation -- maybe not in 2011, or 2019, but certainly by 2023 at the very latest:
My anger about all this is justly infamous but has been badly misrepresented. I do think that some things are worth getting angry about, and the misuse of the Barbarian Migrations and the End of the Roman Empire to fuel xenophobia and racism, and the way some modern authors pander to this, is one such. However, to look at the origins of this ire and animus, I invite you to compare my engagement with Peter Heather’s work in Barbarian Migrations, and its tone, with Heather’s engagement – if you can call it that – with my work, and its tone, in Empires and Barbarians. I never expect to be agreed with; I do expect basic academic courtesy to be reciprocated. If people see fit to treat me intellectually as a second-class citizen, the gloves will come off. That may stem from my own biography as (unlike so many) a first-generation academic not educated at the 'right' schools and universities, but there we are. I will be leaving the profession within the next four years (well done, guys) so I have nothing to lose by not apologising for that.
Kulikowski might have gotten in a good dig, but Halsall will always be a true master of the art of Being Mad Online.
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Hang Em’ High {FemOC x Arthur Morgan} Chapter 7
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC
Summary: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?
. . . . .
Bear hide, a deer and deer hides along with a few rabbits and many herbs thanks to Charles means we will all be eating well for the next week or so. It was a successful hunt, given what happened.
This morning had been slow, helping Pearson prepare today's meals, reading, and laundry. I was trying to think of other ways I could contribute, to prevent myself from going mad doing the same things every day, I don't know how the other girls do it.
Doing laundry with the other girls, Tilly and Mary-Beth, helped the time go by a bit quicker than a snail's pace.
They reminded me a lot of my childhood friends that I grew up with, daughters of the neighbouring farm.
I missed them terribly and hoped wherever they were, they would be safe and happy. I miss our conversations, talking about boys, the latest clothing that was in fashion in New York, Paris and London, politics, women's rights, you know, the usual girl talk. Conversations with the girls at camp were not much different, just a bit more impure and harsh than I was used to. It was all fun and games until they started asking if I had my eye on anyone in camp.
“Don't be shy, Bella. Must be someone you find easy on the eyes here.” Mary Beth giggled
“After my experience, I wouldn't say no to never involving myself with a man again.”
“There are good men out there, finding the right one just takes time. If only it was as simple as it is in the books. Bumping into them one evening and then riding off into the night together.”
Me and Tilly share a humorous look, stifling our laughter.
“Anyway, life ain't just about finding the one and settling down. You can always have fun...and rob them after.” Tilly says, causing the three of us to burst into laughter. “What’re you three gigglin’ about?” Arthur interjects from behind us, causing all of us to jump in surprise.
“Just lady things Mr Morgan” Tilly replies, Arthur letting out a doubtful huff before turning his attention to me.
“You still wantin’ that shootin’ lesson Miss Bella?”
“Of course. Now?”
“If you're free” I looked over to the other girls, silently asking for permission to leave them with the rest of my chores. Thankfully they did.
“Yeah, I’m free now” I smiled up at him.
“Get sorted and I'll meet you at the horses.” He smiled back and walked off towards his tent.
Turning my attention to finish off washing the shirt in my hands as quickly as possible, I could feel eyes boring into the back of my skull, waiting for me to look over to them. I couldn't, I just hoped they couldn't see the sudden blush forming on my cheeks.
“Don't get any ideas. He's just teaching me how to shoot.” Keeping my eyes on the shirt I was working on with haste and earning myself more doubtful hums and giggles.
I changed into pants and holstered my gun before making my way over to Arthur and his horse. He helped me up in one swift motion before mounting himself.
As we were leaving camp we passed Tilly and Mary-Beth, now working on the few garments I had left. Both watching us as I shook my head at them.
“Don't forget to have fun Bella” Tilly shouted over as we left, shaking my head again, thankful to be sat behind Arthur but hoping he wouldn't look back as I was blushing once again.
“What she talking about?”
“Oh, i don't really know.”
. . . . .
We stopped off in Valentine to buy more ammo before heading towards the heartlands, finding a hilled area away from any roads. Arthur had brought along loads of empty beer and whiskey bottles and set them up in a line on a large rock. He handed me his carbine repeater and pushed me forward slightly, starting a few feet away from the bottles.
“Let’s see what you know then.”
I held the gun up, placing the butt onto my shoulder and tilting my head down the sight, gripping with both hands.
Taking a few breaths and aiming for a large whiskey bottle, I pulled back on the trigger quickly as I let out a breath.
The repeater shot back into my shoulder abruptly, pain shooting through my arm and neck, knocking back a few steps. No shattering of glass was heard, just my gasps of pain and Arthur's laugh at my spectacular failure.
“You ain’t standing right or holding it right.” he starts walking over, positioning the gun to sit snugly against my shoulder, away from my collarbone, then moving my hand further down the forestock, telling me not to grip too tightly and to rest my cheek on the stock naturally.
He then moves to stand behind me placing his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to the right a few degrees. He barely removes his hands as he trails them down to my hips, tightening and turning me slightly to the left, then kicking my feet further apart, placing them in a more steady position.
My eyes are focusing on the bottles down the sight, my mind on his hands, still gripping onto my hips.
“Steady your breathing, pull the trigger with empty lungs.”
Steady my breathing? Impossible when I can feel his breath on my neck. But I will try. Try to focus on my breathing, to keep my feet planted firmly. All while taking in how warm his hands are through my clothing, his grip not faltering. Inhale… Exhale… Shoot…
Glass shatters ahead of me. The Whiskey bottle now no more.
Lowering the gun I looked over to the rock to confirm I did actually hit it, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well done. Now the others.” He finally releases his hands but remains right behind me.
We carry on till no bottles are left, which took a while, missing more than I hit with each round but getting better each time. Arthur would correct my stance whenever needed, his hands seemingly calling themselves at home on my waist each time he did so.
Before long there were no more bottles left to be shattered. It was harder than I originally imagined with having to focus on more things than just aiming and pulling the trigger. I’d need to practice more, that's for sure. Thanking Arthur for his help, returning his gun to him we decided to relax beneath a large tree nearby to escape the afternoon sun, sharing a chocolate bar between us as we talked.
“Ya still planning on leaving since you're all healed now?”
“I don't know. Not sure where i would go anyway.” He hummed in response and took another piece of chocolate, handing the last two pieces to me. “I do have a brother in New York somewhere. If he's even still there i wouldn't know where to find him.” I took the last piece of chocolate into my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue to savour the sweetness. “Ya could always stay with us. Sure ya won't always have a soft bed or grand meals but we can keep you safe.”
“It's funny...i feel safer with a gang of outlaws than i did in a grand house with personal security.” I said as I gave a hollow laugh.
It was true I did feel much safer. I didn't need to sleep with one eye open or feel like I was always walking on eggshells, waiting for the inevitable crack. I don't care about having a soft bed, given that recently has been the best I've slept in months, apart from the odd nightmare that wakes me. They have always been the same. I’m standing out in a lush valley, the sun is shining, the breeze is cool and the birds are singing. The camp behind me filled with the now-familiar chatter and laughter from little Jack. It's peaceful for a moment until the clouds turn black and the sun seems to die. Fog across the once heavenly horizon growing bigger with a familiar silhouette drawing closer. They call my name like venom in my ears. Voices from the camp change from laughter to shouts of my name too, urging me to get to them but I can't move. No matter how much I try I can't turn and run, feet stuck like they are encased by hardened mortar, my eyes fixed on the one ahead. It's Frank, his face distorted and covered in blood, his eyes burning with rage. He lunges towards me, his hands constricting around my throat like a Python that hasn't eaten in months. Then I wake, jolting upright and my breathing staggered till I realise where I am. Arthur moves to his satchel, pulling out a worn book and a pencil, flicking absentmindedly through the pages for a moment. I watch with curiosity as he brings the pencil to the page, making quick strokes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Watching him for a few moments I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of serenity and wanting to bask in it’s feeling forever. His gaze on the page does not falter, determined to convey whatever he intended to perfection. “What are you doing?” He keeps his eyes on the task in hand.
“Nothin’ really. Just ramblings and drawings I do to pass the time.”
“Can i see some?”
He looks hesitant and at that moment I regret asking him to share something that is obviously meant to be private. But he nods his head to beckon me closer and murmurs a quiet “Sure”
I sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder as he flicks through the pages, a blur of white and charcoal grey. He stops to show me a few pages, they are littered with small drawings of plants and animals, telling me what each of them are if they don't come with an already written name.
Other pages include strange buildings and stranger people he has encountered, each of them so detailed and beautiful I could imagine what they looked like as if each subject was placed right in front of me. He returns to the previous page he was working on, a half-finished drawing of a woman, her back turned but holding up a gun, aiming at a row of bottles perched on a rock in the distance. I look up to him once I realise but he doesn't look back. He opened his mouth to speak, probably to explain or apologise for not seeking my permission but before he could say a word I look at him again.
“I’ve never had someone draw me before.” I smile, hoping to ease any worry or embarrassment he may have.
His eyes finally meet mine as he turns, those blues i swear i could still drown in if i look for too long. My heart starts racing and I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins when I realise how close to each other we are, our faces mere inches away. His scent filling my nose, warm and inviting. My eyes dart down instinctively to his lips then back up in the hopes he didn't notice but it's evident when his pupils flare that he did. He saw. I don’t know what's happening, don't understand what i am doing until i start leaning in towards him and he follows. I can almost feel him against my lips, I can almost taste him as a shot rings out in the air not far in the distance, accompanied by shouting. We both jerk backwards instantly, our eyes tore away from each other as we scan the area around us. He stands to look around, hand on his holstered gun, telling me to stay put as he goes to check it out, hoping for no danger. As he leaves I feel like I can finally breathe, no longer drowning and I try to think about what just happened, what was about to happen. Was I trying to recreate what happens in them god awful romance novels? I'm not a child anymore, I can't be getting myself involved with bad men in that way. I needed to get a hold of myself. A voice in my head telling me I can't deny he's the first man to show me this sort of kindness in a long time. He's gone out of his way multiple times to help me and to make sure I'm safe. But he does that for the other girls at camp, he cares about them too and does everything in his power to make sure the whole gang can sleep safely. He does it all and denies himself the right to gratitude. Frank isn't a fraction of a man that Arthur is. I was still lost in thought when Arthur came back into view but he wasn't alone. Accompanied by a horse, a beautiful Chestnut Kentucky Saddler.
The creature was visibly shaken, it’s body tense, ears pinned back and tail swishing from side to side, Arthur offering constant words of encouragement and pats on the neck to help calm it.
“Robbery gone bad, fella is dead.” He handed the reins over to me delicately “Here.”
I took the reins in my hand, looking to him with obvious confusion.
“Didn't want to leave her there.”
I extend my free hand out towards her nose to show I'm no threat as I study her overall form, ears not forward. She seems fit and strong, obviously cared for and loved. She presses her whiskered nose to my palm tenderly as I look into her eyes, hoping she knows she can trust us. She can trust me.
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Tangled: The Series Analysis, Cassandra's Betrayal
Before I begin, I feel like I have to set this announcement, as it’ll be a big part over both why I’m making this analysis and why it’s necessary for those of us watching the show. I don’t often say much regarding this kind of stuff, but I’ve noticed there’s starting to become a repeating problem in cartoons (especially recent Disney ones, a lot of which are trying to mimic the Gravity Falls formula and can’t quite hit the mark). That problem is when a show creates a “big reveal” and then caters to that point so much that it deteriorates other aspects of the show or the characters that reveal involves. Sometimes, it’s on the fault of the fandoms for banking too much on them, but the shows themselves can be in the wrong too by sweeping other things under the rug in the name of those reveals. When Cass took the Moonstone and announced herself as Mother Gothel’s daughter--as much as it was expected by a lot of people--this very thing happened. Furthermore, this isn’t to make up excuses for Cass’ actions, just to give some logic that seems to be disregarded in the overview. Expect this post not to agree with a lot of mainstream thoughts and feelings among the fanbase, or at least the ones more-often vocally expressed. I’m calling out the elephant in the room, but I’m just not invested enough to join in a long debate either.
For this analysis, I’ll largely be covering S2 for references. While we do see Cass and Rapunzel’s friendship with its problems as early as S1 (like in Challenge of the Brave), S2 focuses more on the gradual decline of their friendship. More than that though, it’s also important because both of those two were at high points of their lives at the start of the season. Rapunzel was finally leaving to go out and discover a world beyond Corona, along with searching for answers to the mystery of the black rocks, while Cass had garnered enough respect from both her father and the rest of the guard at the end of S1 to be entrusted to lead the battle against Varian and rescue the queen. She can’t called a simple lady-in-waiting anymore. For all the talk lately of Cass playing “second fiddle” and being jealous of Rapunzel because of it, this meant that Cass had an opportunity to stay in Corona and continue to focus on her own goals. Except she didn't. She followed Rapunzel along on her journey because she was her friend and she felt it was her duty. We can tell how much more respect she’s gained because, above the others in the group, it was Cass that Rapunzel’s father entrusted her safety to:
“Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I promised your dad I'd keep you safe, and I'd hate to lose you less than a week on the road.” -Cassandra, in Beyond the Corona Walls
There’s also already some tension with Cass and Rapunzel right from the start:
“Not that you shouldn’t trust the endorsement of three lifetime criminals, Raps, but maybe you should trust me too. I just wanna make sure that we’re not losing sight of what we’re doing out here.”
Cass had a goal and was on-route to fulfilling it, but placed a greater value in Rapunzel’s safety and mission over that. This idea would later fall in line with the following verse from “Waiting in the Wings,” which indicates that it’s not just people or circumstances holding Cass back, but some of the personal choices she’s made that have set her own wants on the sidelines.
“I hear my cue and yet I’m kept there waiting, Know what to do, and still I stand there waiting.”
Even Rapunzel would confirm later in Season Three that Cassandra stayed with her for her by choice.
“She could've had everything she wanted. She had the chance to become a warrior, but she chose our friendship instead.” -Rapunzel, in Beginnings
Here comes the glaring issue though, and some of you are not gonna like me for saying it. Rapunzel’s not that great a friend to Cass or--at times--even in general. Before you come at me with torches and pitchforks, let’s go over some points in the show that indicate this:
Despite all of her attempts at hosting a festival in Vardaros falling flat because her personal interests/tastes don’t fall in line with the people while clearly Cass’ tastes do, she gets petty over it. Rapunzel may have thought she was being delicate, but she dismissed all of Cass’ ideas even though other people like Vex had already shown approval toward Cass’ ways of doing things. On top of that, Rapunzel was the one to suggest they split up instead of trying to work things out together. Yes, Cass stayed angry until the end of the episode, but she sure didn’t start it.
Rapunzel’s always running off to do her own thing despite how many warnings Cass tries to give her in order to keep her safe, such as in Freebird, where she trusts two total strangers over her best friend because “it’ll be fun!”
She often trusts people over Cass, who she’s known longer than many and was loyal to her. This issue of trust goes especially for Adira who--while being a good person in the end--does attack them during their initial meeting and for all they know could’ve been leading them to use as human sacrifices or toward any other dangers because she refused to be honest with them. She doesn’t really start listening to Cass until after it’s already too late because she’d already shown she doesn’t have faith in her decisions several times over.
In Rapunzel and the Dark Tree, Raps uses a dark magic spell she knows she can’t control to defeat Hector despite the fact that she could’ve ended up killing her friends and herself as a result because she nearly did earlier. Cass warned her against this too, but remained by her side to protect her still when she didn’t listen. Sure enough, she burns Cass’ arm.
The point above is made worse in the episode, Rapunzel: Day One, because then Raps decides to blame Cass for getting injured and draws her looking like a monster as if she herself has a right to be angry. (In contrast, Raps is shown to feel some--at least buried--guilt based on the events in Rapunzeltopia, but she never acts on it in a positive or healthy way.) She also gets mad at Cass for not talking about what happened despite the fact that sometimes people need space before they can, constantly pushing what she wants and thinks Cass needs over Cass’ own choices until she loses her memory later in the episode. Cass didn’t talk because she was ready: Cass talked to Raps because she felt guilty. And why would she feel like she can talk to Raps anyway if Raps practically ignores everything she says?
“But if she had just listened to me and stayed out of it, this all could have been avoided! And I feel like we could work things out, but she refuses to talk about it! Wow. Ugh, I didn't mean to make her look that angry.”
Last point that connects to the one above as well, Rapunzel is then made a total hypocrite for trying to force Cass to talk when she also needs time to sort out her feelings over Cass’ betrayal at the start of Season Three and does her own thing despite Eugene trying to be there for her--listening to no one, getting herself in trouble, and forcing people to come to her rescue as always.
One point that I want to make clear is that I’m not saying these are bad character choices for Rapunzel: She’s been locked in a tower all her life, so it’s not reasonable to expect her to have the best social skills. She hasn’t had friends until this series beyond Pascal and Eugene, so she doesn’t know how to handle a lot of situations. However, it should also be recognized that her behavior is often selfish and reactionary, and she hardly gets anything more than a slap on the wrist whenever she has to face the consequences of her actions--rarely growing from them and repeating the same mistakes time and time again. (Granted, this can also be pinned on bad writing.) She often pushes her values onto the people around her as well--with good intentions, sure, but good intentions aren’t synonymous with good choices. By doing this, she’d taken advantage of Cass’ friendship and dismissed all of the sacrifices Cass has made for her sake.
“But I’m not that naïve girl in the tower anymore.” “I can take care of myself.”
Yes you are and no you can’t, you dimwit. You’ve still got a lot to learn, so get off your high horse and actually listen to someone instead of running off to dance over a cliff and picking up dark magic you were already warned about several times over.
All of this can also sum up a great deal of why Cass feels the way she does. She absolutely has a reason to be angry, but she still tries to do right by Rapunzel by staying at her side and continuing to warn her no matter how often she’s dismissed. At that point though, even if she wanted go, she can’t because of her duty. Because of the promise she made to the king to protect Raps and because that’ll be her job still as a member of the guard. She can’t let her feelings get in the way or everything she’s done to be a part of the guard would crumble--not to mention she’d be working for Raps after she took the crown, so she’s effectively stuck.
I want you to imagine this in a smaller, slice-of-life scenario: You’re in your group of friends, but they never listen to you. Whatever you want to do is set aside and whatever you say is ignored. When they need help you go to them, but they rarely, if ever, return the favor. You’re expected to give things up for them, but not the other way around. You’re trying to push them forward while their dismissal of your thoughts and feelings only seems to hold you back.
You can’t constantly treat someone so poorly without them eventually getting sick of it. Cass had Rapunzel’s largely one-sided “friendship,” a scarred beyond repair limb, people mocking her, and a future that seemed to repeat more of the same with no one ever taking her side. The issue with Gothel being Cass’ mother and leaving her wasn’t strictly the cause of Cass’ betrayal: It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Now, Cass taking the Moonstone isn’t justified. Just because she’s been wronged doesn’t mean it’s ok for her to do the same and act reckless. However, we can tell so far in Season Three that Cass and her emotions--pain, rage, and insecurity--are being manipulated. She’s not outright malicious or evil as she doesn’t want to follow the “destiny” she’s been told to face by destroying Rapunzel, but now she thinks she’s got someone putting her first and giving her a chance to shine through the Enchanted Girl. Maybe she even thinks that there’s no going back--the Moonstone does look like it’s now physically a part of her, again she’s being manipulated, and it would follow an arc similar to what Varian experienced.
I’m not gonna make any guesses on if or how Cass could be redeemed: I just hope that, if she is, she’s not the only one apologizing like in Rapunzel: Day One. Cass’ actions are wrong, but there was a lot leading up to them.
#cass#cassandra#analysis#tv show#cartoon#rapunzel#tangled#tangled the series#Cassandra's betrayal#Disney
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I'd like to share a little wisdom, if you'll hear it. Or maybe it's not wisdom cuz I smoked quite a bit and feel compelled to share this but anywaus here ya go. My "Adult Life" has been quite an experience thus far. But not in ways I would've expected, say, 5 years ago. I've learned how to do my taxes, for the most part. I've tried alcohol, though I seem to be the only one in the house who much prefers drinking juice and also buys it in gallons. I've discovered a bar that is also an arcade and I now have a place to take my friends out on a late night that's actually fun and they serve root beer. I had my first car, though it was brief. I bought myself a ukulele because I decided I was finally gonna learn to play an instrument and stick with it. I got a couple tattoos, and I really like them. I've picked up my interest in Art again. I'm determined to build a portfolio and aquire new skills, simply because it's FUN. I've listened to my friends tell me about college and how their teacher tells them they're actually gonna be famous one day or they're planning to study abroad. I couldn't be happier for them. I demanded they send me postcards with funny notes or remember to save me a front row seat. While I haven't had the adventure of college just yet (more or less living vicariously through my friends), I have had an interesting period of change and self reflection. Bringing me to a short story I'm about to share. But before I do that, this is in now way meant to convince anyone that there is a single right way to find personal happiness. This is simply an account of how I believe I am finding mine. In 4th grade, I went to a public school that no one would've heard of, and certainly never won any awards for being a great school. I had 2 friends, and spent most of my free time in the nurse's office. I never felt like anything "special," but I had 2 friends and that was good enough. Then one day in Art Class, the teacher gives us an assignment with the book called "Salt in His Shoes." It was colorful book about Michael Jordan. We were asked to recreate a page in the book without tracing. I chose a fairly simple page, he was sitting at a table with his arms crossed and holding a basketball. A few days later when the assignment was finished, I was pretty happy with it. And was certain I would it would look great hanging in the hallways at school. More days pass and in the middle of math, I was called down to the art room. I was absolutely terrified that I had done something wrong. I believe to this day that I had my first real panic attack then. To my great relief, I was completely wrong and the teacher had informed me that between two students, she had chosen my picture out of the whole 4th grade to be featured not only in the school art show, but also the town art show. I was ecstatic. Simply overjoyed. I don't think I ever bragged about anything to my friends as much as I had this particular event. MY ART was going to be seen by EVERYONE because it was GREAT. But while my art was going to be featured in a show, I wasn't going to be there. Mom couldn't take me, and thus I had no way of getting there. I wasn't mad, but rather just a bit sad that I wasn't going to be able to see other people's art nor see that which was physical acknowledgement that I had something beautiful to offer. But I was already well versed in disappointment, and thus thought nothing more of it. Kids are weird. And definitely more complicated than we give them credit for. I often wonder if getting farther away from certain ages is what creates this almost imaginary gap of intelligence that adults believe they have from children. That adults forget what children really know and pick up on simply because they, the adults, have more vocabulary and reasoning to describe their thoughts and actions. This time I was called to the Principal's office. Cue second massive panic attack at the tender age of 8. Unbeknownst to me, Mom made a phone call. Under no obligation or favor did Principal Shirack have to do this. But he offered to pick me up and take me to the art show. The one at school. Looking back on this particular moment, I don't remember how I felt or what I did after leaving his office that day, and the experience was rather visceral at the show. But as I examine the memory further, I am led to the conclusion that standing in front of the picture as it hung on the wall,--parents glancing at it as they looked for their own kid's drawing-- was a defining moment that helped create ME. Someone showed me a kindness that was by no means required. He could never name every child in the school individually, and he certainly didn't know me or my name until then. And yet he created a moment in my life that I will always look fondly upon and remember as an inspiration to be a good person. To be kind. And to help others. He gave me Opportunity. Years later I lost that drive for art, which I regret deeply even now. I developed terrible anxiety and fear of success. Believing that I was the manifestation of failure itself and deserved only such. Making commitments and not following through. Crying from stage fright and vowing to never try again... I found the inspiration again only recently, and I intend to take advantage of it, and yet I asked myself "How? After all this time, why now?" And I'll be damned because the answer was so freakishly simple that if I could kick myself in the shin, I would. I explored. I had no net. I had moved put of my parent's house. No deadlines. No limits. No one to impress. Everything that I described at the beginning of this vignette was something, that the very thought of, made me anxious or uncomfortable. My friends going off to college without me. Doing my taxes which I had never gotten right before. Wondering if alcoholism in my family would effect me too. Making car payments. Never learning how to play an instrument because it's too hard. Not getting tattoos because only a handful of people seem to think that it'll kill me when the amount of ink I want will probably only kill me when I'm already old. Finding a place to take my friends that is fun for both me and them so we're not stuck indoors because I don't have much mode of transportation. These are honestly only a few things that I've grown more confident about. They seem indifferent. But these changes, this new lifestyle that I've accepted, it's taking one day at a time. Living with long term goals achieved by short term success. Getting paychecks. Saving for an apartment. Earning good credit. All these things have made me happier. I don't feel left behind when it comes to things like college. My friends don't expect me to know what they're talking about. There's no longer a pressure to move through life as quickly as possible to achieve the long term retirement we all know and already want. I have less than others, and now I push to be more informed and advocate for what I believe to be morally good and just causes. I spend more time with my pencils because I have fun doing it, and it's no longer "just a distraction." I work till I bleed because every dollar on my paycheck is proof of personal achievement that I never appreciated before. It's made me kinder to people who have even less than I, more patient. If I see a homeless person and I only have a 5 in my wallet, every dollar goes in that little cup because I know what it's like not to have dinner. I don't do these things because I feel that I have to, but because I want to. These things have simply become integrated into my lifestyle because I have widened a perspective that was once just tunnel vision. Graduate high school, graduate college, focus on a job, work till retirement. Never before did I acknowledge the little victories because I was made to believe that my only focus should be on my future self and rather than who I am now. Now I'm sure if you're still reading this, that you've made it this far and you're probably asking "Alright what's your point?" If you have a mental disorder, or you're finding that your life isn't near any kind of fulfillment that you had hoped for by now, please don't be discouraged. Happiness isn't achieved in a day, but it's about building yourself. If you're afraid to do something because you doubt it, I implore you try it with someone you trust. If you're struggling with a class and can't get any of the material right, take a day off. Refresh yourself. Go play a videogame. Sleep. You are more than your grade. And getting one F, or even multiple, does not define you as a person. It sucks, but it's not actually Failure. If you didn't get that one job that you really wanted, that's ok. They don't deserve you anyways. Try something easier to obtain if only for the money itself. If you're worried that you're art isn't good enough because no one liked it when you posted it online, maybe that one like, or reblog you need will come from someone who hasn't made an account yet. They'll find you eventually. If you don't want to pay a bill because it means no food money, then by all means feed yourself. What good is a bill if you're dead? You are the only person who can decide what's best for you. If you make a mistake, you have your whole life to learn from it, however long that is or however long you want it to be. People change. You will change. The future will change with you. Be bold. Be adventurous. Be kind. Be you.
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Home at last
@the-reading-flower
Hey guys! So recently, I had seen this post by @prncesselene about winter and Cinder rekindling their relationship. And since this prompt is ‘home’, it inspired me to write this fic! Hope you guys enjoy it and sorry for the late post lol.
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Winter suppressed a giggle and the urge to skip as she strolled with Selene (she should really call her Cinder) through the chambers.
They were finally going to properly catch up.
Of course they had exchanged their childhood memories but Winter never had a chance to give Selene a full tour of the palace- not with her reclaiming her throne and duties and Winter with her new duty of distributing letumosis antidotes and having the device installed to stop her lunar madness.
It had felt uncomfortable at first, but now she felt a sigh of relief when she could no longer see any more blood on the walls of the palace. After all, like Jacin said, it was a token of her profound resistance against her lunar gift.
Winter had imagined this moment all her life- even before she had reunited with her cousin. Whenever Jacin was busy with his duties, she would often imagine playing again with Selene. How they would plait each other’s hair, paint portraits of the Artemisia palace, talk about their crushes whilst they ate away at candies. Winter’s heart swelled with nostalgia.
It may not have cured her loneliness but it was a sweet, temporary delight.
Winter had first showed Selene the secret gardens (only permitted for royals). She told Selene how they used to play there together. Then she showed her the kitchen where she used to sneak some candies from one of the jars - which they reenacted.
Winter then finally showed Selene her favourite place of the palace. The menagerie. She showcased the animals and told Selene their names. She had also showed the cage where she had first met Scarlet- which felt awkward when Winter thought about it.
Selene had noticed an empty cage and asked about it. Winter told her with a heavy heart that it used to hold Ryu, her favourite white Wolf. Even though her hallucinations had gone, she could still imagine that pool of blood.
‘Winter?‘
Winter shook out of her reverie. Selene stared at her, a concerned look across her face.
‘Are you ok?’ She asked.
Winter smiled and nodded.
'Of course. I just got a bit distracted. Nothing to worry about. What were we talking about?’ Winter asked, her gaze focused on her cousin.
Selene smiled warmly.
'Don’t worry about it. I can understand why talking about Luna politics would drift anyone away.'
Selene gathered her beige dress awkwardly from the sides, her shoes showing below. Winter stifled a giggle.
Selene glanced up and laughed. She loosed her grip on her dress and shrugged.
'Sorry, I’m not really a dress person. The material just goes all static against my cyborg leg. I guess you can add 'lack of etiquette’ to my list of things the people would disapprove of,’ Selene muttered the last part under her breath.
Winter placed a gentle hand on her cousin’s arm.
'You are too hard on yourself. You are doing a great job as the queen. The people are just still a bit bitter about Levana and the monarchy. And since you are the queen, who’s to tell you to wear dresses? But if you want, shall I adjust your dresses for you?’ Winter asked.
The thought of stitching dresses filled her with bubbles of joy.
'That is really sweet of you, Winter. But you don’t-’
'Nonsense! Consider it as gifts for the times we’ve had apart,’ Winter exclaimed.
Selene’s eyes softened. She nodded.
'Thank you.'
As they passed through another corridor, Winter gulped. She had taken her cousin through an abandoned corridor.
It was abandoned for a reason.
She would have to hurry Selene through.
Winter curved her arm around her cousin’s and quickened her pace.
'Winter?’
'Sorry. I am feeling a bit unwell after all. We should probably hurry to the-'
Selene’s eyes lingered on a door with a sealed lock.
Winter gulped again.
She pulled at Selene’s arm again, but Selene held still.
She squinted her eyes- which winter knew was a sign that she was using her cyborgic vision.
Her eyes widened.
She clicked open her cyborg hand compartment and took out her tools. She started to pick at the lock, her forehead creased with concentration.
This was bad.
'Selene. Please. Let’s just go. You don’t want to go in there. Selene!’ Winter argued.
Selene stared at her, her body tensing at her real name. Winter shrugged her apology. A click sounded.
Selene pushed open the door.
As the door creaked heavily, they were both met by a stale and smoky smell. The door shone a beam of light into the room.
Winter peeked in.
The room was the same as she had last remembered it- the pale pink walls, the squiggly drawings and the beautiful tapestry of Luna to the side of them. Nothing had been moved either, even the bed where that fatal accident had happened.
But what was most striking was the stark black burn marks that masked the bed and crawled up part of the wall and the floor.
Winter rubbed her arms, feeling the coldness seep into her. She stared at her cousin, whose eyes were wide.
'This was it, wasn’t it? This was where I was burnt?’ Selene glanced at Winter, a haunted look on her face.
Unable to dispute it, Winter nodded.
Selene turned back to the room. Taking a silent, deep breath, she entered.
Winter reluctantly followed. She watched as her cousin studied the room.
'I’m so sorry. I…I used to walk along this corridor to feel close to you… I’m such a fool,’ Winter muttered.
Selene turned to Winter, a sympathetic smile on her face.
'It’s ok, Winter. Sooner or later, I would have discovered this room anyway.'
Selene glanced down at her hands. Her jaw clenched.
'Do you remember what happened?’
Winter shook her head.
'I was too young to remember. All I gathered from the rumours was that a maid had entered the room with a lit candle and caused a fire that had… I do remember asking my father where you were. But my father would not tell me. No one would. They all just stared at me with such sadness in their eyes,’ Winter replied.
She thought back to those times when she sat in her room, silence her only companion until Jacin came along. She knew death had taken her cousin. Her father had that same look he always did whenever she asked about her real mother.
After an awkward silence, Selene walked up to Winter and stood beside her, taking in the room. She crossed her arms across her chest.
'Why was this room never renovated? I would have thought Levana wanted to get rid of every memory of me,’ Selene asked, her words bitter.
Winter sighed.
'She was actually against the idea, to everyone’s surprise. Though I doubt it was because she was mourning.’
Selene snorted with agreement.
Winter side-glanced at her and planted a hand on her cousin’s folded arm.
'You know, Levana had made no arrangement to mourn you but people did. Did you know that people used to leave many gifts here for you?-’
'Really?'
'Yes. There was enough toys to fill nurseries. There were flowers, ribbons, embroideries made of you, even letters - I used to sneak into the room and read them. The people of luna truly cherished you. You were their hope for a better future.'
Selene stared at the bed, her face glowing with warmth and life.
Winter continued on.
'Soon, Levana had found out and banned everyone from entering the room. She even gathered all the palace servants and publicly locked the door to get her point across. From there, it became abandoned. But rumours were that many maids on different nights had seen Levana unlock the door and linger in the room. They said it was like she savoured it. It always sent a shiver down my spine.'
'To be honest, I’m not surprised,’ Selene said through gritted teeth.
Winter squeezed on her arm.
Selene’s tense arms relaxed under her grip. She let out a small sigh.
'I can never get over the fact that my own aunt wanted me dead for the crown. Who thinks like that? And then, there’s my own mother who was as cruel, burning her own sister. I don’t know what’s worse, living with them or with adri and pearl.’
Winter remembered Selene mentioning her step family. It broke her heart to think her cousin also felt lonely and mistreated. She was grateful for Peony and Iko though, being there for her cousin. Her heart sank as her wish to meet Peony would never be fulfilled.
She wondered for a moment how her cousin’s life would have been if she remained in Luna.
A thought came to mind.
'Even though your mother was horrible, I heard she changed when she was pregnant with you. She was always stroking her bump wherever she went and a radiant glow made her face more beautiful than before. They had never seen her more gentle and happy in their life. If you ask me, I think she would have loved you dearly, despite who she was,’ Winter persuaded.
Selene’s eyelashes glittered. She wiped at the tears escaping down her cheeks.
After a moment of silence, Selene swallowed.
'i’ve never told Iko or Peony this, but sometimes, when I felt at my lowest, I used to think about finding my real family.
'Every night I used to imagine making my very own spaceship and flying across the world, in search of my family. It would give me hope, you know. Until I started thinking about why they had left me.’
Selene opened and closed her pocket compartment in her cyborg hand. Winter tried not to let it distract her.
'When Dr Erland told me I was the lost heir of Luna, I was terrified. I had always dreamed of my real family, but this was totally different than what I expected. It disheartened me because I had heard so many things about Levana and the thought of having her as an aunt made me lose hope of belonging. Of course, I heard about you and your generosity but I had lost so many years with you and I was worried that our relationship had faded because of it.’
Winter pulled a small smile. She cupped her cousin’s face in her hands.
'There was never a day when I did not wish for you to come back to me,’ She whispered, her eyes growing blurry with tears.
Selene gently held Winter’s hands in hers.
'And I never doubted it when I first met you. I am grateful I have you as my cousin. You gave me hope that there is good in Luna.’ She tucked a strand of Winter’s hair behind her ear, revealing her scars. Selene cupped her cheek in her hand
'I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I wish I was. I know it’s been awkward between us, but I promise you that will change. I promise that I will be a sister to you and whenever you need me, I will be there for you. I promise I won’t let anyone separate us again,’ Selene whispered, her voice choking with tears.
They both embraced. Winter stroked Selene’s hair. She leaned towards her ear and said,
'Never be sorry. I am just glad that you had people there for you when we were apart. Oh, I have missed you so dearly, Selene,’ Winter whispered.
Her mind alerted her of her minor mistake.
They pulled apart.
'Sorry. I should stop calling you Selene. Your name is Cinder now.'
Selene shook her head.
'Don’t. It is my real name after all and you make it sound cool.'
Winter grinned.
She realised that the void she had felt for so many years inside her heart, was once again filled with warmth and excitement at rekindling their relationship.
Winter savoured the feeling like her candies.
As they both came out of the room, Selene stopped Winter.
'I’ve been meaning to hold some inspirational events for the people about embracing who they really are. So I thought I would use all the rooms in this chamber for different activities. And I wanted to get this room redecorated back into a nursery where some of the mothers can let their children play.
Her cousin pointed at the door.
'I want people to know we can move on from what Levana had done. That it is safe now. So what do you think? Will you help me?�� Selene asked with a one-sided grin.
Winter stared at the door and then at her cousin.
A wide smile spread across her face.
'I’m with you, Cousin. I think that is a wonderful idea!’ She beamed.
Grinning, Selene held onto the padlock tightly.
As they both continued their stroll down the corridor, Winter thanked the stars once again for bringing her cousin safely back home to her.
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#TWDFamily Part 4
“It’s not just fandom. It’s family.” If you are at all familiar with Walker Stalker Convention or Heroes and Villains Fan Fest, you’ve probably seen this tag line before. Though I’d seen it, I had never put much thought into what it meant until I experienced this family for myself. From attending the conventions as a fan to beginning this podcast with Kia, I have witnessed a fandom that supports each other with their whole hearts. I have seen people come together for each other in a way that can only be described as magical. Their one common thread? They love The Walking Dead and attending the conventions that celebrate their favorite show.
In this four part series, I will be chatting with many of the people that make up this family. In this final installment, we take a look at some of the amazing vendors you may see this weekend or at Walker Stalker Conventions in the future!
Meet our vendors!
Drawing of King Ezekiel by Aislinn Draws
MDG Art and Customs: mdgartandcustoms.etsy.com Illustrations and customized vinyl figures
**Benny from Benny Miller Art: **www.bennymillerart.com Artist
**Aislinn from Aislinn Draws: **aislinndraws.co.uk Prints, t-shirts, and pins of her hand-drawn fan art.
**Piper from CreepynCuteShop: **www.etsy.com/shop/CreepynCuteShop The metro Detroit-based, original, authentic, CreepynCuteShop zombie doll designers and gifters.
Ginger from Creation 13 SPFX: www.facebook.com/creation13spfx SPFX artist and creator of Monster Junkie Magazine.
Have you been a vendor at Walker Stalker Con?
Aislinn Draws: I have been a vendor twice before, at the two London Walker Stalkers. I decided to become a vendor after hearing about WSC London too late and discovering all the general admission tickets were gone. For a while, people had been suggesting I ‘do something’ with my artwork, which was just a hobby until then. So I bit the bullet, reserved a vendor table, ordered some prints and hoped for the best! It was, at the time, the best thing I had ever done. So of course I returned the next year!
The ladies of CreepynCute Shop with Danai Gurira with her custom Michonne doll
CreepynCuteShop: Yes. 3 WSC Atlanta (plus 2017, will make 4), 1 WSC London, 1 WSC NY/New Jersey, 2 WSC Chicago, and 1 WSC Orlando.
Creation 13 SPFX: Have been a vendor 2 times for Tennessee and Georgia.
Which upcoming Walker Stalker Con can we find you at? Please list your booth number (if applicable, plus any other identifying factors to help people find you.
Aislinn Draws: I’ll be at Walker Stalker Atlanta this weekend. My booth number is 119 and I’m along the row of booths facing the big entrance doors to the main convention hall. It’s a hella big place but I’m hoping that makes me a little easier to find! If you’re still stuck trying to find me, I’d recommend listening out for an excitable British accent!
MDG Art and Customs: I’ll be at booth 344.
Benny Miller Art: I attended my first Walker Stalker last year but not as a vendor. My first one will be in April at the Walker Stalker Con 2018 Chicago. I am way excited for it. It’s happening simultaneously with FanFest Heroes and Villains, but I’ll be on the Walker Stalker side. I don’t have a booth number yet, but my booth will be the one with the sweet art and the handsome, long-haired dude working it (haha).
CreepynCuteShop: WSC Atlanta 2017 and WSC Nashville 2018. For WSC Atlanta, we shall be at Booth #331. WSC Nashville booth numbers have not yet been assigned and/or released yet by WSC.
Creation 13 SPFX: My booth is 372, Creation 13 SPFX. Look for my husband standing on his soap box wearing a top hat, selling a freak show like setting zombie experience for $10.
What made you decide to become a vendor at WSC?
Custom RIchonne print by MDG Art and Customs
MDG Art and Customs: It was a moment of madness. I tend to create art that I wanna see and though I love the gore and guts and action or the lovely character portraits, I was frustrated at not finding the type of art I wanted at conventions; very specifically Richonne art. I went to 3 conventions last year and only the awesome Kirk Manley had artwork that included Michonne and Rick as a couple (that I could find, anyway) and since I’m basically obsessed with drawing the softer side of Richonne. I decided to go for it. I know there are others out there who do too, and I just wanted to share in on that.
CreepynCuteShop: We are vendors at WSC as a result of fans’ requests. We are also vendors because of our passion for all things 'The Walking Dead’ related. We love the fans and feel we are now a part of WSC Family and WSC Fandom. We are also vendors because we love to design & gift celebrities their character and/or portrait dolls in appreciation for the best entertainment they provide for the fans!!!
Custom Carl drawing by Benny Miller Art
Benny Miller Art: As for what made me become a vendor, I’ve been struggling for a while to find a niche for my art. I was kind of all over the place, but started doing portraits a few years back and found that I was decent at it. I started doing them mostly with oil paint on a large scale. They were very time consuming and labor intensive. I then stumbled upon the wonders of Copic markers, and decided to give them a whirl. I began doing smaller, gray-scale portraits with them on toned paper and just REALLY liked the effect. Plus, they took a fraction of the time. I began doing a lot of them, and before I knew it, had a collection. I had been thinking that maybe I could start selling them at cons, but my wife was the one that was really vocal about the idea and the driving force behind all of this. I have my first booth in Chicago only because of her support.
Creation 13 SPFX: I do it for the laughs, scares and experience. Hearing someone scream, “That’s Winslow,” answering questions on how to do make up to old and young. Talking with the teenagers who aspire to be makeup artists. It’s about the experience the customers walk away with.
How has the Walker Stalker Community helped to expand your business?
Aislinn Draws: Walker Stalker has helped me expand my business in that I literally did not HAVE a business before WSC came along. It has helped me to not only find a very focused audience for my work, but also to make friends who support my work both financially and through moral support. One friend in particular, Heather, is someone who I quite honestly would not have been able to do this without.
Benny Miller Art: Through Walker Stalker, my wife has met a number of incredibly generous and supportive people who helped us figure out the vendor process, giving us ideas for sales, how to advertise, quantity of product, how to display, and just about everything else involved with this. My first customers were also people from Walker Stalker, and the whole community has just been so supportive and wonderful. There are just some really incredibly generous people involved in this whole thing.
**CreepynCuteShop: **
The WSC community, family, and fandom have helped expand our very 'organic’ business by welcoming us and our “Share the Love” mission & motto. They have also helped by sharing our business name on their website, sharing social media posts, and sharing some of our doll gifting experiences where we have gifted character and/or portrait dolls to various celebrities.
Creation 13 SPFX
Creation 13 SPFX: Walker Stalker Con has helped expand my business by letting the public see me and my magazine. I have also been introduced to new artists causing new issues for the magazine. I am able to advertise for other booths. I do it for free. Art is to be shared, not hidden. I suffer from anxiety disorder. Walker Stalker has helped me interact and somewhat helped me deal with understanding my limits and how to fight it off and enjoy the beautiful souls around me.
What do you love most about Walker Stalker Con?
Aislinn Draws: The people! Not even the celebrities - as great as they are - but the other attendees, vendors and staff. If I scroll back through my inbox, about 90% of my recent messages are from people I’ve met through Walker Stalker. I went to Atlanta last year as an attendee knowing not a single person, and I return this year with over thirty different friends to reunite with!
MDG Art and Customs: I love everything. There’s art, there’s cosplay, there’s Andrew Lincoln spending his precious Sunday taking photos with us and it’s all about The Walking Dead. If you’re lucky, you might get to tell your favorite actor how much the work they do means to you. You get to meet up with friends you might not see all year round otherwise; you make new ones. It’s like one big family reunion….with family you actually want to spend time with!
Benny Miller Art: It’s got to be the people. My wife and I have met so many supportive, creative, and just all around incredible people. I think my wife talks to her Walker Stalker family more than she talks to her real family. I know she’s made some life long friends and they’ve all extended such wonderful acts of kindness to us and our family. I remember before our first Walker Stalker, we were really unsure of what to do and needed some general guidance on the workings of it. A complete stranger, Heather, messaged my wife on a message board and told her “you can call me, I promise I’m not a weirdo.” It’s a year later and they talk on the phone daily, along with a number of other friends my wife made there. I feel really fortunate to have such a huge number of supportive and generous people in our lives. Who would have thought that such a family could be created from a mutual love of zombies!!!
CreepynCuteShop: The fans, the celebrities, the overall convention experience, and especially the hugs, smiles and out pouring of love!!!
Creation 13 SPFX: James and Robin get all these amazing actresses and actors under one roof for so many to express love to, take pictures with, and share the positive energy experience. And of course, the Walker Stalker Con fans. Watching children cry in love, not horror, when they see a hero character. The respect and love the actors and actresses give to strangers, thanking them for enjoying the work they do is great to see.
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