#even though i will acknowledge sometimes criticism can go to far and be malicious and I myself try very hard to avoid that

[silvershewolf247]

Via: @cult-of-dollbabies I would not be criticizing this show half as much as I do if I didn't think there was genuine love and talent behind it.

The scenes of Andy and Kyle in season 2 (despite being part of a rather undercooked storyline) are genuinely moving and engaging. It's why I wanted more of them. Lachlan Watson plays the twins perfectly and adds complexity to Glenda that was not expected and is greatly appreciated. The costume design of the human twins is also great (I know some people don't like short hair Glenda, but I feel like it makes sense for them, a lot of people who've had long hair want to shave it or cut it short at some point) I wouldn't be pissed at the ending if they hadn't been. Even the trio has a lot of potential for story and character growth if the narrative would just let them.

The opposite of love isn't hatred. It's apathy. I love a lot of these characters, I love these actors, I even love a lot of ideas (and some execution) within the show. It's why the most damning aspect of season 3 is that people aren't criticizing it. People are just giving up, and it's why the show is in danger.

[the-force-awakens]

poe dameron is neurodivergent and that is critical in understanding him as a character. that's why, I think, even people with the best intentions sometimes mischaracterize him or misunderstand his neurodivergent traits (his confidence in his skill - which is a fact he knows is correct - and blunt acknowledgement of it is not, in fact, a show of arrogance and neither is him sharing any amount of knowledge he has) as something else and we wind up with a very shallow fanon interpretation of him at best and an absolutely unforgiving and malicious one at worst.

Poe is absolutely coded as neurodivergent, so are many other Star Wars characters due to the (likely neurotypical) writers inadvertantly writing good autistic representation without even realizing it. Most of the starfighter pilots in the franchise are coded as neurodivergent and if you're watching for it, most of the in-universe criticisms of them are things neurodivergents are derisively told as well (especially with ADHD). But unlike a lot of characters, I'm convinced poe was intentionally played neurodivergent.

Why? Because Oscar Isaac intentionally played the Moon Knight system as autistic. He pitched the idea of them being autistic to Marvel and was allowed the go ahead to incorporate that into the characterization and we see it in each alter — and there's some distinct overlap in mannerisms between them and Poe, in how he plays them (which, speaking as someone who has seen a bit of his filmography, I can say isn't something that happens often, the mk system is probably one of the few roles of his where I've actively thought of Poe while watching him play someone else).

And of course, it wouldn't be the only time that Oscar coded Poe as something would it? Even though Disney ultimately refused to explore Poe/Finn, Oscar's performance undoubtedly codes Poe as a queer man (before any one smarts off in the comments there's a difference between 'coding' and 'baiting', baiting would be the writers acting like there was a chance it might happen, not the actors who were down for it and adding it into their interpretation and portrayal of the characters so it's still there for queer audiences to pick up on and get past censorship).

But one moment that always sticks in my head is the confrontation with Holdo. He's teetering on the edge of an almost-meltdown the second he walks on the bridge (which D'Acy can tell) and he's nearly calmed down with the reminder of Leia until he sees that the plan is to effectively abandon ship with nowhere to run (as far as he or anyone else at this time, knows).

There's so many moments that just....call forth that Poe is not at all neurotypical that it's hard to pin down any series of beats and go "that's autism", it's in every movement and decision he makes, it's in the way he carries himself, in how he's confident but never arrogant and absolutely sincere in knowing what he's capable of. It's his dislike of being forced to emote, it's his snark and reliance on routines and preference of being in control of a situation or having some idea of what's going to happen, his habit of repeating what other people say (that's an echolalia), it's in the facial expressions he makes.

Then it's teeters over into a meltdown. He kicks over a crate (away from everyone else by the way) and makes his point. It's an extremely self contained meltdown (somehow? But like I can sometimes rein mine in a little too), but it is very much an autistic meltdown in my point of view and I've been firm in this belief since rewatching in 2020.

And then, low and behold, we see Oscar play characters having autistic meltdowns repeatedly in Moon Knight (seriously can uhhhhh the system get a nap? Can they?). Just in the first two episodes alone, they have at least four.

But specifically, I'm thinking of Marc's in the courtyard. He yells in frustration over the plan going to shit and then when Steven unintentionally triggers his trauma, he kicks the mirror repeatedly until it breaks, takes a deep breath and backs off.

Which surely.....can't be almost exactly be what happens in tlj, can it? By Talos...

But yeah. They both have meltdowns in a similar manner but at opposite ends of the spectrum (...the pun isn't intended but hey), and Oscar does the same deep breath and step back at the end of it as both Poe and Marc.

There's a lot of other overlap too, of course, but I haven't gotten so far as to be able to articulate it nearly as well, and it hasn't been on my mind quite as long as this parallel has been. I think a gifset paralleling the two scenes would do much better job of illustrating this but I do not have the energy to make any gifs recently.

[ddarker-dreams]

Malaise. Yan Fugo x Reader [Implied x Giorno]

word count: 6.3k warnings: implied sexual relations, angst later on notes: i wouldn’t say there’s super heavy yandereness going on here, but given the context i figured yandere would play out a bit differently. it’s more like slight yandere if anything ...

i.

Interacting with someone so close to your own age shouldn’t be this miserable. Bucciarati is far easier to converse with, it’s not even a close competition. He’s a pleasant conversationalist, humoring your ideas and offering valuable input. If you had it your way, you’d only be speaking to him and not… this bratty teenager who turned his nose up whenever you were around. As if your mere existence is the highest insult to his own. You’ll never forget how he looked from you to Bucciarati with a quirked eyebrow when you were introduced, the awkward encounter forever burned into your mind. 

You blow a strand of hair out of your face, nose scrunching up at the current dilemma. Bucciarati had asked, more like softly nudged you, to get along better with Fugo. You’ve been trying, ever since he introduced you two that fateful day. In the back of your head, you wonder if the same task was assigned to Fugo in private. Though seeing as he’s remaining nose deep into his book, sitting as far as humanly possible from you on this couch, you doubt it. The phrase “avoid like the plague”, doesn’t even scratch the surface of Fugo’s attitude towards you. He’d sooner embrace the Bubonic Plague than you, should prior encounters be recalled.

“Was there something you needed?” 

Speak of the devil. He must’ve seen fit to grace your presence with his most sacred articulation, filling the tense air with some much-needed conversation. The words aren’t malicious on a surface level, seemingly a reasonable inquiry considering you’ve been staring at him for a solid ten minutes. It’s how his voice is strained, knuckles whitening as he grips the book tighter, which gives him away. Fugo’s too easy to read at times, the same can’t be said when it comes to dealing with him. This might be the most difficult task Bucciarati ever assigned to you. 

“Need isn’t the word I’d use,” you decide to ignore the not-so-subtle irritation on his features, pushing your strained luck as far as it can go. Linguistics aside, you put your cards on the table. “But, I was hoping to get to know you better.” 

With the ball now on his side of the court, all you can do is wait, for whatever rebuttal Fugo decides to dish out. When Bucciarati isn’t around, Fugo’s preference is to act like you’re no more than a fly on the wall. Buzzing around his head and making it impossible to focus on anything that he does in his rare downtime. Honestly, he can’t comprehend why Bucciarati felt so desperate as to pluck you from whatever hole he found you in. You don’t even hold a candle to his own intellect, taking a naive, happy-go-lucky approach to life. Sure you’re a Stand user, and while it’s not a useless Stand, Fugo couldn’t picture you making the choices necessary in a fight to stay alive. The fact you haven’t been reduced to a bloodstain on the pavement is the only thing he finds impressive about you so far.

His eyebrow twitches at your pesky insistence, face settling into a grimace. “Am I right in assuming that if I don’t humor this pitiful attempt, you’ll continue to stare at me and disrupt my otherwise peaceful evening?” 

You place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition, before nodding your head. “It looks like you’ve got a better understanding of things than I expected.” 

Fugo lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. So be it. He’ll wait until you fall asleep to finish his book, mentally noting the page number and setting it by his side. The act of surrender takes you off guard. You were fully anticipating a snarky one-liner, or for him to disregard you in some other way. Instead, he looks at you with disinterest, arms crossed over his weird swiss cheese shirt. You learned never to mention your inner critiques of his fashion sense, as it once earned a plate of parmesan being narrowly dodged at Libecco. Scary stuff.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Fugo winces at this like he heard nails on a chalkboard, “What do you like to do? Y’know, hobbies and stuff.” 

It’s as good a start as any. Finding out a person’s interests unravels the essence of who they are, what they believe is worth their time and effort. Fugo gives your question an unexpected amount of thought, probably sensing you’ll call him out for a lackluster answer. Which you would, of course. For all his stubbornness, he’s gotten good at reading you. Maybe you should try shaking things up a bit to rattle him, keep him on the edge of his seat… 

“Honestly, you couldn’t pick something more original…? I don’t know. I read, and I can appreciate a good movie.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, considering his words. A very safe, Fugo-like answer. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to assume Fugo liked to read, but the movie detail is a new bit of information that you will take full advantage of. He strikes you as the type to be snobby about his tastes in movies. Most likely only watching them if they’re popular with critics and saying the general population has no appreciation for the fine arts, too busy consuming braindead action flicks instead of true cinema. Not that you have any intention of voicing this conclusion to him, seeing as you’re trying to worm your way into a friendship.

Fugo snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into unfortunate reality. Maybe that statement earlier this morning about you zoning out too much holds some merit. Before he can berate you as he’s taken an apparent liking to, you speak up. “That’s good and all, but I need specifics.” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“With pleasure,” you lean forward, waving your hands enthusiastically to emphasize your point. You get the sense that Fugo regrets asking for clarification, but neither of you are willing to back down now. “How about this. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, which would you pick?” 

“Is this some kind of job interview?” Fugo murmurs to himself, massaging his temples. You shrug your shoulders and offer a bright smile, and he knows sarcasm isn’t gonna cut it. “It’d need to be something interesting… maybe The Silence of the Lambs.” 

He somewhat defied your expectations, not listing some obscure black and white flick filmed on a Blackberry. Maybe you jumped the gun on your initial assessment of Fugo Pannacotta, and he isn’t as grandiloquent after all. This confrontation is going better than you ever anticipated, and you almost feel guilty for selling him too short.

That is, until he sees fit to present an unnecessary addition to his previous statement. “Was that bit of English too much for you?” 

So much for that. Once an asshole, always as an asshole. Shakespeare may have said something similar, but your reimagining is far more of a pinnacle in literary achievement. You deflate back into the couch, huffing at his indignant comment. Well, might as well burst his bubble now. It may be the only bubble Fugo has that you’re capable of the aforementioned bursting, so you’re going to savor every second of it. The entire reason you’ve never mentioned this facet of yourself is that you never viewed it as imperative. Bucciarati knew, you knew, that’s all that mattered. Until Fugo decided to dig under your skin and rub salt on the wound in one fell swoop. Figures he’d do that.

“Fugo.” 

“[First].”

“You know English is my first language, right?” Your voice is more of a deadpan than anything, tilting your head to the side as if it is the most logical conclusion. The hypothetical cogs in Fugo’s head begin turning. There was that time you stumbled over a Naples exclusive dish, sfogliatella, Bucciarati kindly offering the proper pronunciation after you stumbled on it. Or how you have the slightest of accents, sometimes referencing pop culture that goes beyond him. He always wondered why muttering “cazzimma” to you only earned a light reprimanding from Bucciarati, and never offended you as more common insults would. He just thought you were some type of misfortune idiot. Whoops. 

Not willing to throw in the towel yet, Fugo takes a posture of defense. This is a hill he’s willing to die on, you have to be playing some kind of cheap trick. “I don’t buy it.” 

“Should I start reciting the entire Star-Spangled Banner by heart, or talk about how much I love fast food and baseball? Did you think my Stand would be a bald eagle that shot out apple pie? If that’s the case, you’re fresh outta luck. I’m living in Naples for a reason.” you respond in fluent English, flexing your hypothetical muscles. Fugo recalls his English classes from years prior to roughly translate some of your words, scowling at the realization you’ve proven him wrong. By god do you wish you had your phone with you to snap a picture, print it out, frame it in every room of this apartment, make it your lock screen, and send it to Bucciarati. 

You’ll settle for drinking in the moment instead, Fugo muttering curses underneath his breath. Much to your surprise, from this moment forward, Fugo earned just an ounce of respect for you. Not that it says a lot, seeing as the cup of [First] respect was drier than the Sahara desert until recent times. 

It’s still a step in the right direction.

ii.

Neither of you says a word.

Coming down from your individual highs, you feel how your hair sticks to the sides of your perspiring face. Your bare chest heaving with every labored breath, Fugo in a similar state of disarray next to you. Now that it’s all said and done, you’re unable to look at him out of embarrassment. Instead, you seek solace in staring at your ceiling, thoughts scrambling to rationalize the previous events. 

It all started innocent enough. The two of you had been growing closer, becoming more comfortable in each other's presence. Even Narancia, who could be notoriously poor at picking up on subtleties, could sense your connection and even pointed it out. Until Fugo told him to knock it off (in far more vulgar language), saving you the shame of saying it yourself. You felt content with the state of things with Fugo, after months of getting him to come out of his shell with you. His words were still pointed, but not full of ill will. Even when three more additions were brought to your little group, Fugo remained the person you prefer the most. It might be wishful thinking, but you think he feels the same towards you. 

Tonight had been like all the ones that came before. The two of you sitting on the couch, talking about pointless endeavors. Mista and Narancia were out at the time, leaving you all on your lonesome. For such a sizable couch, you didn’t realize how close Fugo was sitting next to you. Your thighs practically touching, occasionally brushing over one another. To combat the summer heat and mediocre air conditioning in your apartment, you were wearing short shorts and a tank top. Seeing as everyone else could walk around shirtless at their discretion, no one ever made a point to call you out on the less than modest choice. Even if they felt the itching, you’d shut them up without a second thought.

Fugo found himself focusing less on the words coming out of your mouth, and more on your glossy lips. He could smell your strawberry chapstick, the choice so tempting he found it offensive. Mixed with the chocolate gelato that you stole from Mista’s “hidden” stash, Fugo was bewitched on a level that shouldn’t be possible. Your skin, slightly glistening from the summer heat, eyes full of passion as you explained why you hated pretentious movies. At a certain point, you must’ve noticed how Fugo stopped responding to your impassioned rant. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you, to feel every inch of your body.

So he did. 

It was far from suave, an amateurish clashing of teeth and tongue. You let out a surprised noise at the unexpected events but melted into it. While the kiss didn’t go as smoothly as he pictured in his head, you seemed to savor every second of it. He still remembers how eagerly you responded to his every desperate touch, how you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer. The scent of your floral perfume and the sweet noises that left your lips almost made him drool, prompting him to go even further. Fugo’s brain almost shut down when you lowly whispered into his ear to come to your room, bodies soon falling onto your bed in a heated embrace. 

You feel sore, but it’s not so bad. 

Fugo’s the first to speak up after some painstaking thought, breaking the silence that’s resonated ever since he climbed off of you. “Are you… are you okay?” 

It’s so unlike him to be this unsure, not knowing what to do or say. His heart still pounds in his chest, cheeks flushed and lips bruised. Suppressed emotions came crashing down over him like a tidal wave, drowning him before he could make sense of it all. You didn’t push him away or seem offended by his advances as he’d feared you’d be. Instead, you accepted all of him. Allowing him to carry out his pent-up yearning for you, in a state of bliss by how you called his name out. 

Shameful as it may be, Fugo had envisioned this scenario in his head numerous times. He’d always hated himself for it, thinking he’s no better than a common pervert for the way he thought of you. All the ways he pictured you, in all the lascivious situations, only to see you bright and early for breakfast the next day. When you smiled and told him good morning, all he could do is look away in disgrace. Not that you ever knew about this, or that you ever needed to find out. 

You let out a carefree, light giggle at his serious inquiry. Fugo’s eyebrows scrunch together into a scowl at your sudden laughter, finally working up the courage to look at you again. Any frustration melts away like winter snow in the spring at how breathtaking you look, your skin iridescent and eyes softening. They aren’t softening just for anyone, it’s for him and him alone. Does he deserve to be the one you look at with all this adoration? And should he even bother with the self-deprecating thoughts, when losing himself with you is so much better?

“S-sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin underneath your eyes tightening from the wide smile. “I never took you for the sappy, pillow talk type.” 

Fugo’s nostrils flare, huffing without any malice at your teasing. He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s doing, improvising as he goes. Everything that happened, every shared touched you shared, felt so surreal. Cheesy as it may sound, it was like a dream come true. What is there to say after a passionate encounter like that? He’s still rushing to get his bearings, hating the sensation of being this out of control. How you make his stomach erupt into a swarm of butterflies with every action, from the simple fluttering of your eyelashes to the cute way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating on a task. Fugo knows what this could be, in the back of his head. A quiet, hard to push down voice tells him what he’s been dreading to hear. That he’s a fool, deep in the throes of love. 

It takes a few minutes for you to calm yourself down. Fugo’s observant, much to your chagrin, having picked up on your nervous tick of laughing when you’re unsure of what to do. It’d make sense, seeing how you just slept with your teammate who frequently called you an idiot a few months ago. You prop yourself up, bedsheets covering your bare chest. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He looks away, despising how your revealed skin makes his face flush a bright red. Even without looking at you, he can picture the knowing smile on your angelic face at his embarrassment. It’s the same smile you have when Narancia tells a particularly funny joke, when Mista goes on a silly tangent about his latest concerns, when Bucciarati says you’ve done a good job, or when Abbacchio chooses to sit down next to you when everyone else is being too annoying. Most importantly, it’s how you always look at Fugo, even when he didn’t think he deserved it. 

You poke his cheek, murmuring his name. Fugo’s violet hues flicker back to you at the unprecedented action, perplexed countenance betraying his inner thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this. That the occupation you two are involved in is too dangerous to sustain a relationship, and that death is a possibility every day. It’s too late for him to nip these feelings in the bud -- that opportunity passed long ago, as he let it -- but he can’t allow it go past the point it already has.

Fugo lets out an inaudible gasp when you make yourself comfortable against his bare chest. Here he is, being torn on the inside between desire and duty, and you’re snuggling up without a care in the world. It’s the stark contrast that separates you, the same one that has him so hopelessly enamored. You have no intentions on making this easy for him, do you? He knows the answer when he sees your eyelids closing, threatening to fall asleep. 

All is comfortably quiet until he hears your muffled voice speak up. “You didn’t push me away.” 

“Huh?” 

Fugo’s own response isn't the schooled, thought-out string of words you’ve come to expect. It’s a kneejerk reaction to a confusing observation, that he’s having trouble rationalizing in his head. While never the most forthcoming with his emotions, he was essentially ravishing you like a man possessed a few minutes prior. You can’t be that dense, can you? Scratch that, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Even if not many got to see that side of you, there are still insecurities that weigh heavily on your heart. In the same way he struggles with self-worth, you fight a similar battle. The thought tugs on his heart, lips set into a deep frown. Everyone’s got something to deal with.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Fugo responds in a harsher tone than he intended. When he feels you tense against his chest, he curses himself, intentionally softening his next set of words. “But, uh, do you really want me to stay? The others might be back soon.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment at his concerns, promptly waving them off. It’s not like Narancia and Mista are capable of sneaking into your shared residence, it’s ridiculously loud when they come home. “Just a few more minutes.” 

He expected an answer like that and still has trouble relaxing. Truth be told, Fugo would prefer to lay here with you forever. To see what you look like when you sleep, to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest in sync with his own, to kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight. In an ideal world, that’s how it would be. Reality is a lot less forgiving, and there’s too much on the line. Being this close to someone else is vulnerable, painfully so. To hurt and be hurt, the opportunity now having the room to manifest. He knows all this, and he still can’t bring himself to mention the full force of his anxieties. Would you hate him? Think he was using you and then ditching you? 

Fugo decides to be selfish, more so than usual. While there’s no way to push down all of these emotions, looking at you puts him at ease. His fingers ghost over an area on your neck he learned was sensitive, almost smiling when you lean into the touch. The way he feels with you is addicting. From your quick wit that matches his own, never being afraid to challenge his positions, it’s like he found his match. While he’s always found you begrudgingly cute, even when he was colder to you, it’s evolved into something greater. More serious and heartfelt. It’s horrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” you ask what’s been troubling you, hearing how Fugo’s heartbeat ramps up in speed. It’s a rational conclusion, seeing how comfortable you two are with one another. You don’t know if what you feel is love, not just yet, but you want to give whatever this is a shot. Fugo’s hesitation says all you need to know, though you wish it isn’t like this. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” Fugo answers honestly, the words so quiet you struggle to pick them up. It’d be a lie to say you’re not disappointed, though you don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. Fugo has his own emotions to work through, and the last thing you need to do is jump into a relationship and ruin everything. So you lift yourself up, looking him deep in the eyes, Fugo blinking at the abrupt movement. 

“Then I’ll wait.” 

He doesn’t notice how close to crying he’s been this entire time. The world through his view goes blurry, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Fugo takes deep breaths to steady himself, and instead of berating him, you wipe away his tears with the pad of your thumb. Whispering reassurances into his ear, combing through his tousled hair with your fingers. Fugo wipes at his eyes furiously, cursing himself for breaking down in front of you of all people. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude when you decide not to comment on it further, to save him the embarrassment. Your words echo within his head like a holy mantra, a promise that he’ll hold onto. 

If there were ever a reality where you looked down at him with disdainful eyes, he’d hate himself. 

iii.

Wandering aimlessly isn’t the worst part.

No, that’d be letting himself off too easy. It’s not the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while his stomach churns, or even the tear-stained pillowcases. When walking around Naples, all he can do is submerge himself to the shadows. There’s shame in the act of hiding, and it’s all he’s come to know. Seeing the light of day feels too good for someone like him, someone who had been abandoned by everyone he cared about and was too cowardly to prevent it. It’s a suitable punishment to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness, cursing his entire existence for the mistakes that haunt him every day. 

It’s always a mistake to come to this café. This is your favorite café, and on days like this, all he can do is watch from afar. There are times he stares at the spot you frequent for hours, waiting to see if you decide to stop by that day or not. In a way, it’s almost better when you don’t. He doesn’t get a taste of what he’s missing out on, a forbidden fruit that he’s too ashamed to reach for. Most of the time you come here alone, with your favorite pastry and coffee, scrolling on your phone or laptop before leaving. He’s seen you meet with Mista a few times, even Trish once, but it’s mostly Giorno who accompanies you. 

Today you’re on your lonesome, speaking to someone over the phone and then hanging it up with a smile. Fugo can’t help but wonder, who is it that makes you smile like that? As he sits from afar, drowning in his anguish, it’s what plagues him the most. That used to be the smile he saw on a daily basis, the one that made him fall head over heels in love. Now he’s too afraid to approach you, in fear of what you may say, or do. Even what you wouldn’t do would hurt. Would you look at him in pity, or curse him for his cowardly actions? Condemn him for not joining you on that boat, or ignore him all together?

Is it possible… that you’ve simply forgotten all about him? It has been almost two years since the worst day of his life. While he’s caught up in the past, you’ve moved into a brighter future. He doesn’t know how he feels anymore. Surely you deserve any happiness you can get after all the suffering you went through, but the thought of you being happy without him stings. It digs talons into Fugo’s heart, ripping it out of his chest. One of these days, he tells himself, he’ll work up the strength to speak to you. Even if it’s but a moment. 

Though some part of him knows he’ll never be able to face you. Not anymore.

v.

It’s early in the afternoon. Chatter from other patrons reverberates off the tastefully decorated walls, in a restaurant that Fugo’s been to numerous times. This particular visit is different than the ones years ago. Instead of the bustling atmosphere he’d grown used to, there are only two people at the table. Where laughter and lighthearted conversations before work used to occur, there’s nothing but silence save for some polite discussion. Fugo’s throat feels persistently dry, no matter how much water he gulps down. 

Giorno sits across from him, legs folded and nursing a glass of iced tea the waiter brought seconds prior. Maintaining eye contact with the revered Don of Passione is no simple task. It’s a daunting experience, regardless of Giorno’s insistence on no formalities being necessary when interacting with one another. Fugo holds immense respect for him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be willingly sitting here right now. Still, his mouth is set in a straight line, leg bouncing underneath the table. Respect isn’t enough to snuff out the uncomfortable memories that appear up in this room, suffocating him from the inside out. 

“Is there a reason I’m here?” The words come out more forcefully than he intended, Fugo’s eyes darting around his familiar surroundings, looking for something he won’t find. Someone he won’t find. He’s grateful to Giorno for his benevolence, as speaking this way to someone who’s technically his boss isn’t advisable. Someone as sharp as Fugo knows this better than most, but he also knows Giorno. While not understanding him entirely, his actions make logical sense in the grand scheme of things. 

Being in Giorno’s position means being busy. Every second of the day has to be taken advantage of, whether it be discussing with other mafioso about recent happenings or plans, making multiple phone calls, and plenty of other headache-inducing tasks. So it doesn’t make much sense to Fugo why Giorno called him this morning, asking to meet him in person for lunch. While the two aren’t on bad terms, he doesn’t feel deserving of the specially allotted time. And in his gut, he feels there’s a hidden justification for the meeting that he’s yet to uncover. A few unpleasant theories come to mind, but they only serve to unnerve Fugo further, so he stuffs them down. 

“I wasn’t sure of the best way to deal with Purple Haze. Your Stand… you’re already aware of the potential consequences it could’ve posed, so I won’t rehash it more than necessary,” Giorno begins to offer his insight into the matter, finally revealing the true reason Fugo was called out here today. “There were a variety of methods that could’ve been used, with varying degrees of success, but I took a gamble. Ultimately, she didn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

Fugo feels his heart drop, jaw slackening despite his best efforts. “Who… who do you mean?” 

At this, Giorno quirks an eyebrow up. As if to wordlessly say, you know who. 

“It might not be my place to delve into your past,” Giorno continues with a serious air, contrasted by his closed-mouth smile. Fugo never knows for certain what Giorno’s plotting behind that smile, and a part of him wants to remain oblivious. “But for you to overcome it, and in turn gain total control over Purple Haze, it must be addressed.”

He can guess where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Giorno gives him a moment to consider the words, briefly glancing at his buzzing phone and then returning his attention back to Fugo. It’s a subtle change in body language, how Giorno’s shoulders stiffen just slightly as if he’s anticipating something. Fugo loosens the tie around his neck, the pair returning to tense silence. While the Don made valiant attempts in loosening him up, it only served to make Fugo more suspicious. All of his fears are confirmed when he overhears two voices from the room over, one of them sending his heart racing.

That’s… that you and Mista speaking to one another. He knows your voice better than he knows any other sound on the planet, even if it’s been years since he’s heard it up this close. Fugo still dreams of you, the way you used to stumble over certain Neapolitan lingo, or how wonderful it sounded when you graced his ears with a laugh. Now, he’s unsure of what to feel when hearing the muffled conversation between you and Mista. The sound grows closer, and with it, his dread. After rejoining Passione at Giorno’s behest, Fugo knew this reunion couldn’t be avoided. Nothing could prepare him for it. 

There’s a telltale gasp when you turn the corner, spotting the back of someone you haven’t seen since you were a teenager. Someone who you used to hold in high esteem, who practically fell off the face of the earth after betraying the old boss. While Mista had hastily given you the details on the car ride over, it still felt too surreal, like a cruel joke. There’s a lot that weighs down on your heart, like stones wrapped around your ankles, dragging you into the depths. The details Giorno gave you about Fugo’s whereabouts were purposefully vague, most likely in consideration of your past feelings. 

“Fugo…?” 

You’re by his side before he can even process it, bending down and wrapping his stiff shoulders into a warm embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate it or stop you, his thoughts not capable of rationalizing what’s going on. Fugo can’t bring himself to look up at your countenance, in fear of what he’ll see staring back at him. That you’re even hugging him means you must pity him, viewing him as a scared little boy who was too weak to do what was necessary. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to him, and why he can’t return your affections. While it’s no longer his place to desire anything from you, not after all his shortcomings, he silently prays. That there may be some part of you that still cares for him, in the same way he has loved you from afar. 

“I’m so glad you’ve come back.” you sniffle, emotions swirling and enveloping you. You lift your hand, using your finger to swipe away forming tears. That’s when Fugo sees it. It doesn’t hit him at first as one would expect. No, it’s a prickling sensation that starts from his chest and spreads throughout his body like a virus. His body feels ice cold, like a corpse clinging onto shreds of life, consumed from the inside out by sorrow. Nausea comes in waves, tempting him to flee from this heart-wrenching scene and never look back. Your hand falls back to your side, and Fugo’s eyes follow it with precision, unable to look away.

There’s a rose gold band on your ring finger. 

Of course. Looking at you here, it makes sense why this would happen. Your body has filled out, beauty like that of an angel. The ability to draw people in and befriend them like a glowing aura has always been your strong suit, it was warm enough to thaw the ice around Fugo’s heart. It’d be a fool’s prayer to beg God to keep you for himself, and still, he had tried. Now that leaves the burning question, who? Who was the person that erased himself from your mind, taking the place that was carved out specifically for him? He looks at your beaming face, searching for answers he won’t find outright. 

Your perfume is the same as it was before. Light and floral, but mixed with a hint of something new. Of someone new. It sickens him, the scent dizzying as it taunts him. Where has he smelled this before? It’s on the tip of his tongue, fizzling out before coming into fruition. The words you speak next are drowned out by Fugo’s throbbing head, too absorbed with dark thoughts to process them. He needs to know. He has to know. Fugo looks over your shoulder to Mista in search of answers, the gunslinger holding an uncharacteristically grim expression. They hold eye contact, Fugo staring at him with potent intensity. 

Give me a hint. Anything, please.

Not everyone gives Mista the credit he deserves for being observant. Fugo must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, Mista swallowing at the pale complexion and vacant eyes. Believing that his intentions weren’t clear enough, Fugo almost looks away. Before he gets the opportunity, Mista offers a slight inclination of the head. Fugo closes his eyes, all his strength going into holding himself together. Picking up the shards of glass that maintain his emotions, hands growing bloody in the process. It’s a subtle movement, though there’s no denying in what direction it went, as much as Fugo wished otherwise.

Towards Giorno. 

You move towards your seat, realizing Fugo must be going through a lot of emotions of his own. The last thing you need to do is suffocate him when it’s clear he’s processing the unfolding events. “I don’t know the last time you came here, but they recently added more desserts. I’m partial to the zeppole… it’s so light and fluffy.” 

Mista walks over, taking a seat next to the befuddled Fugo, and speaking up to ease the uncomfortable silence that resonates in the room. “I’m starving, haven’t had anything to eat all day. Let’s get the waiter over here.”

While he flags down a passing employee, Fugo’s eyes follow your form. The table is different than how it used to be. Abbacchio would be sipping on wine, no matter the time of day. Bucciarati wouldn’t always be sitting down for long, seeing as he had lots of work to do, but he always made time for a good meal. Narancia loved conversing with you, seeing as you had lots of knowledge of the English music he was so partial to. You always sat next to Fugo, who’d lightly reprimand Narancia for being more passionate about rap than his studies, or telling Mista to knock it off with the unappetizing conversations he loved to start. 

Now, you take the chair next to Giorno, who had pulled it out in kind when you walked over.

You said you’d wait for him, and Fugo fooled himself into believing that statement would last a lifetime. He always had regrets about not joining his team on the boat that day, too many to count. A new one has sprouted up like a weed, strangling his heart. If he had joined you, would it have been him you’d have married? Would it be him that you’d look at with that dazzling expression instead, the one that he had grown used to seeing? Now that he knows the full extent of the truth, Fugo wonders how he could have ever been so blind. Even Giorno -- who often smiled just for show -- had unmistakably lightened up as soon as you entered the room. 

This… This is Fugo’s despair.

The rest of lunch goes as smoothly as it can. He forces himself to speak when spoken to, Mista kindly filling the room with conversation to prevent any awkwardness. This can’t end fast enough. He needs to get out of here, to excuse him before he does something truly stupid. A serpent whispers temptations of evil into his ear, and he doesn’t want to tune them out. Not anymore. Now isn’t the time to pull any idiotic stunts, so he remains still as a statue. When all is said and done, Fugo can’t get up from the table to dismiss himself any faster. He pays the necessary respects to his Don, swiftly offering his goodbyes. With his back turned, he hears your voice call out to him in the darkness.

“I’ll see you later, right?” you ask in between bites of your dessert, the words meaning more for him than you. He doesn’t know. He’s not certain of anything anymore, even after making up his mind on returning to Passione. The situation has taken a turn for the worst, in a way he couldn’t stomach any longer. So for now, he’ll offer up an unconvincing response, not capable of looking back at you. 

At the reminder of all his failures.

“... Of course.” 

[aliensunflower-fics]

Attitude - [Bustier Salt]

[ I had a teacher like Bustier back in highschool, I was depressed and being bullied at the time among other horrible things so I REALLY dont like Bustier’s character for reminding me of that. So I based this fic somewhat on an actual event that happened with that teacher it was therapeutic! Hope you enjoy! ]

Marinette sighed, a mix of amusement and annoyance gracing her features as class was interrupted for the third time that day, this time it was Kim and Alix the competitive pair loudly declaring war on one another this time over who could procure the better mark on Bustier’s upcoming test. It was certainly the least destructive challenge the two had ever entered but Marinette could already see the many ways they could and probably would take it to far. She’d bet that Max would end up in a tug a war as both challengers would want him as a study mate and Marinette guessed that Kim would likely ignore sleep to cram while Alix would try to study and skate at the same time. Bustier called for the class to be quiet plastering on a cheery smile as she reminded everyone that it was almost time for lunch and that they could all talk then. Marinette fidgeted in her seat eager to bolt out of class and join up with Kagami for lunch at the bakery.

The two girls had grown close ever since Lila had ‘took over’ as the supposed class queen  though it was more like everyone humored her In truth the girls threat had never actually come true. Marinette enjoyed a healthy relationship with all her classmates Alya and her were still friends and if anything Marinette felt she should thank Lila for helping her learn her own value. In the short while where Lila had been queen Alya and the others drew away not intentionally or maliciously they were just so busy listening to such grand tales they sorta forgot about Marinette. And in that time Marinette had bonded closely with Kagami the fencer giving her the push she needed to be more assertive and confident in herself! And when she was she noticed that suddenly Adrien wasn’t so amazing. He was a good friend but she didn't need the crush anymore she didn't need the validation she was happy and confident as she was. 

And not long after that Lila’s new-ness wore off and everyone caught on to the fact that Lila could sometimes stretch the truth or be a bit over sensitive. In the end, Marinette still sat at the back and she still had to deal with Lila on the daily but she still had her friends and if things kept going as they were with Kagami well… Hopefully she’d have more than just a friend soon! The only real problem lately had come from the most unlikely source. Mme Bustier. Marinette wasn’t sure if the teacher had just fallen for Lila’s lies hook line and sinker or if maybe just maybe she’d ALWAYS been like this? It was a thought Marinette didnt like to entertain but it was hard to ignore the permanent fake smiles that never quite reached the eyes or how ever since Marinette became more assertive and confident how the teachers once compliments became criticism.

The sound of the bell caught Marinette by surprise and she moved to gather her things. Kim and Alix raced out of class first trying to beat each other. Adrien dodged Lila’s clutches sticking close to Nino, Alya looked back to Marinette giving her a thumbs up and a ‘go get her!’ Before chasing after Nino. Soon the class was empty save for Marinette and Mme Bustier. Hauling her backpack over her shoulders Marinette headed to the door only giving a curt nod and smile to her teacher on the way out trying not to notice the ever present fake smile and the cold look in her eyes that just didn't match, right as Marinette reached the door however-

“Marinette? Could you stay here please? And close the door would you, we need to talk.” Bustier’s voice as usual held a cheery tone but Marinette could easily hear the underlay of aggression. 

Closing the door Marinette moved back to her teachers desk hoping that this wouldn't take too long. For Mme Bustier’s part she looked to be in no rush carefully taking her time to sort papers humming slightly her ever present smile plastered on as if desperately trying to look the part of the friendly teacher, instead of actually being it. Shuffling from foot to foot Marinette resisted the urge to tell Bustier they could talk another time after all Kagami was waiting for her! Surely Mme Bustier would understand? Finally Bustier slid a packet of papers in her desk drawer before she turned in her chair to address Marinette her smile growing wider more forced crinkling the side of her face before she spoke.

“So Marinette… I was thinking that you should spend your lunch in here!” She blinked once, then twice. But Bustier just kept smiling no hint of joking on her features.

“E-Excuse me?? But why?” The words were careful but Marinette could not stop the very clear confusion and annoyance from slipping into her voice.

“Mmm~” Bustier hummed pleasantly. “Well you see Marinette, I was not a fan of your attitude today in class.” It was stated as if it were gospel, a fact easy to understand. But Marinette understood little.

“I'm Sorry?!” The words came out quiet but strained shock, annoyance but mostly confusion evident. To her credit Mme Bustier didn't even blink.

“Your a good student Marinette, but your attitude is a problem. How can you expect to lead your classmates if you keep up this behaviour? So you will be staying here at lunch.” It was said so sweetly so kindly with such gentle tone yet still Marinette felt like she'd been slapped.

Had she done something? That was Marinette’s first thought. Doubt and panic creeping into her body twisting her stomach making her feel sick and sweaty. But she could think of nothing. All class she’d sat quietly taking notes when they were needed doodling if they werent. Answering questions when called. She’d been a model student! Even when the rest of the class became disruptive she’d sat quietly waiting for Mme Bustier to do her job- Unless. Was that it? Did Bustier expect, no demand that Marinette take responsibility for her classmates? Was this her teachers sick version of forcing Marinette to be an example of a perfect student a base for which others were expected to follow!? A cold feeling washed down Marinette’s back and her eyes hardened at the teacher still sitting still smiling. Did Bustier expect her to smile and apologize and sit quietly going hungry? Because if so she had another thing coming. Tightening her grip on the strap of her bag Marinette marched passed Bustier’s desk toward the door. In shock Bustier stood her voice raising.

“Marinette! Where do you think your going!” Even in her panicked state shocked by Marinette’s defiance she tried to force her voice to be calm and gentle she tried to smile but her widened eyes betrayed panic.

“I'm going to lunch.” Marinette spoke flatly not betraying the cold icy rage in her heart.

“Now Marinette. Your just proving my point. You clearly have an attitude problem. Stay here for lunch and let's talk about it.” Bustier was trying to regain control. Trying to keep her voice even and calm. Trying to make her command seem friendly.

“No. I don’t think I will.” She took another step, Bustier moved quickly taking a step from behind her desk now. Still smiling that horrible fake smile still trying to be friendly.

“Marinette. If you keep up this attitude I’ll have no choice but to take you to the Principle and call your parents! You WILL stay here for lunch.” The smile was so forced so ugly her little cold eyes piercing into Marinette.

But all Marinette wanted to do was laugh. Bustier was so sure of herself so sure of her power and position so sure that she was the most beloved and friendly teacher that all her students would accept even the most unfair punishment because if Mme Bustier said it then clearly it was true! And maybe… Just maybe. If Marinette lacked the confidence she now had, if she was still the Marinette from before Kagami, the Marinette who craved validation from a crush who genuinely believed LILA could take away her friends. Maybe if she was that Marinette things would have gone the way Bustier wanted. But for Marinette’s part. All she did was laugh, a cold dark laugh a laugh that still didn't break the fake smile on Bustier’s face but the shock was clear in her eyes. When Marinette was done laughing she took a breath before speaking her voice coming out cold.

“Fine. Take me to the principal's office. Phone my parents. I'd be delighted to hear what you’d tell them when they ask why you were trying to force their daughter to go without food.” Bustier’s eyes widened considerably her smile twitched but didn't drop.

“This attitude of yours is getting out of control Mari-“

“What attitude?! Mme Bustier? The one where I sat quietly in class taking notes? Or the one where I calmly answered questions when asked? Or maybe the one where when the class got disruptive I didn't do your job for you?” Anger filled Bustier’s eyes and her smile twisted into an ugly look.

“Don’t you think your going a bit far. Marinette.” Bustier’s voice was sickly sweet barely hiding the venom behind it.

“No. I don’t think I am. In fact id go so far as to say that the only one here with an attitude problem is you. Mme Bustier.”

“How Dare You!-“

“No! Mme Bustier! How dareYOU! I am not your perfect shining example, or your substitute teacher! I am a student! And the only thing wrong ive done today is let you waste my lunch!”

Bustier’s smile was gone replaced with an open mouthed look of surprise before being twisted into a sneer. She could not believe this! Her model student was daring to talk back to her? To make a scene? This was not what she was supposed to be this way! She was supposed to set the example to stop her classmates when they got out of hand! To acknowledge Bustier as a caring teacher who only had the best in mind but here she was fighting her!? Would she truly need to drag her to office? No that couldn't be this was just a mistake! Marinette was just acting out a little then she'd settle down and spend the rest of the lunch sitting quietly reflecting on how she could have done better how this attitude of hers was ruining everything! But then why was she trying to leave again?!

“W-Where do you think your going?! Get back here! This attitude of yours has gone far enough Marinette you are spending your lunch here!” The pretense was gone the sweetness lacking shock evident the desperation seeping in.

“No… I’m not. But you know what. If you really think I’m acting out. That I have an attitude problem? Then do it. Take me to the principal call my parents I’ll love watching you bury yourself.”

Cold fear washed over Caline, this was not her Marinette! Her Marinette had been quiet and resourceful she never made a fuss or upset anyone! Why was she suddenly acting out? She wasn’t being treated unfairly! She was being treated with extra responsibilities like all mature children should! Yet Marinette was acting like she was the victim and it was ridiculous if only the old Marinette would come back! Then everything would be easy like it use to be! Finally finding words she moved to speak she just needed Marinette to realize that all this tantrum would do is lead to an Akuma! Maybe, just maybe someone was being a bad influence on her star pupil! It could be that Kagami girl always so aggressive! That was it! She just needed Marinette to stop hanging around such… Unreasonable people. Surely the moment she would she’d go back to how she was and make peace with her role as the model student and Lila. Sure it was stressful to be an example but it was also an honor!

Meanwhile Marinette was having very different thoughts. As she eyed up Mme.Bustier she could see the teacher she once respected thinking her way through Marinette’s words. And if Marinette could guess her teacher was most likely trying to ignore the fact that Marinette had threatened her. But that WAS just like her, to avoid the real issues, the real problems, and instead soften everything until you let it go feeling ridiculous and guilty for something that wasn’t your fault. That’s what she’d done to Marinette during the Chloe and Lila incidents. And Kwami be damned if Marinette let her do it again! Kagami cared for her, stood up for her, was always there for her! And Marinette could hear her now in the back of her head urging her forward demanding she defend herself that she lay the line in the sand. Mme.Bustier would never stop not unless Marinette was firm. So when the redheaded teacher finally gathered her wits and opened her mouth to poor out yet more sewage about her responsibility to her class Marinette was going to remind her of HER responsibility!

“Don’t.” It was a sharp command. “Don’t you dare tell me who I am, or what I must do.” Marinette had no idea how much pent up anger she had at her once favorite teacher until that moment. 

She needed to remain cool so she took a deep breath and centered herself thinking of how Kagami’s armd felt the last time she’d picked her up twirled her and called her ‘her dazzling sun’. She could do this.

“If you were to take me to Mr.Damocles about my attitude problem. What do you think I would tell him.” Bustier looked confused and angry and flustered.

“I would hope you would apologize!” Oh Kwami was she serious?

“I would tell him to review the footage of today's class. And do you know what he’d see?” Bustier paled somewhat trying to stammer out a response.

“He would see Alya at the start of class. Arguing with Chloe and you doing nothing to stop it but look over at me waiting for ME to play peacekeeper.”

“W-well it comes better from a fellow student and shining example then it does-“ Marinette wasn’t even listening.

“By the time you do stop them 10 minutes of class have been wasted. And me? Well I was reviewing notes waiting like a good student for my TEACHER to do her job.”

“Well I-“

“Later, Mr.Damocles would see you letting Lila interrupt class repeatedly to lie-“

“Now we don't know that-“ Marinette grit her teeth but proceeded.

“To LIE, about something relevant to what your teaching. And you let her, she gets zero discipline for repeatedly disturbing the lesson or making up lies. And where am I in all this? Reading ahead. Waiting for my teacher to do her job.”

Caline looked rightly embarrassed her face going from red to purple to white. Marinette didn’t care she wasn’t yet done.

“And then finally he would see Kim and Alix fight. Shoving each other, yelling, and what do YOU the teacher do? Again you look to me.” Marinette sighed.

“Face it, you expect me to do your job FOR you! But I am a student and like every other student here I deserve to go to school and be taught by a teacher who does her job! Instead of putting her responsibilities on a student while also expecting that student to neglect her own feelings so that bullies and liars get an easy pass.”

“That is enough! Marinette this attitude problem is worse than I feared! You will apologize!” Marinette sighed heavily.

“No.” Caline looked slapped. “Because I haven’t done anything wrong. The only thing this conversation has made clear to me is that if anyone has an attitude problem. Its you.”

Before Bustier could think of a response. Marinette was gone. Her confident strides taking her out of the classroom with no room to protest. Finally Caline took a breath it was shaky like her legs. She stumbled back slightly and sank into her chair, the normal happy smile she plastered on her face to show her students that positivity meant everything even when your upset was noticeably missing. Marinette harsh words kept replaying in her head. She couldn't be at fault… Could she? She didn’t have an attitude problem, no Marinette did she had to! Why else would she talk back?! Yet the words kept haunting her and a smile even her perfectly practiced ones seemed impossible to muster. And things remained that way even when lunch ended and her students returned all accept for Marinette who unknown to Caline Bustier was at home wrapped in the supportive embrace of Kagami as she finally told her parents everything that had been going on at school. As it turns out Marinette’s parents also thought Bustier was the one with the ‘attitude problem’.

[ There ya go! Hope ya’ll liked it! Thank you everyone who has followed and sent nice asks or left comments you have no idea how happy it makes me!!! ]

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[rctribvtns]

〔 ARÓN PIPER, 20, CISMALE, PYROKINESIS 〕╰  NOVA GALLO  just  came  over  half - blood  hill .  you  know ,  the  child  of  HADES  who  was  claimed  five years  ago ?  i’ve  heard  chiron  say  that  he  is  PERSUASIVE  & INQUISITIVE ,  but  if  you  ask  the  aphrodite  kids ,  they’d  say  they’re  HOT-HEADED & STANDOFFISH .  i’d  say  they  remind  me  of  the man behind the curtain masquerading as the great wizard, the kill by halocene, stargazing on a tailgate in the heat of summer, and nicotine kissed lips , especially  since  they’re  FOR THE NEW CABINS . 

        hi  there,  hi  there,  hello  there  !! my  name’s  c,  i’m  old  as  hell  from  the  AST  time  zone,  and  this  is  my  trash  son  nova.  he’s  an  existing  muse  i  played  a  while  back,  with  some  of  andrés  and  lolo’s  backstory  meshed  together  to  make  one  mega-character.  will  it  work?  maybe.  i’m  going  to  keep  this  brief  bc  i’m  allergic  to  intros  but  even  as  i  say  that,  it’ll  probably  end  up  being  a  four  paragraph  essay.   apologies  in  advance.  

nova’s  family  life  is  ...  complicated.  he  has  a  “twin  sister”  that  he  was  raised  alongside,  but  they’re  only  half  siblings.  both  of  his  parents  were  having  affairs,  his  mother,  with  hades,  and  his  adoptive  father  with  someone  else.  the  two  children  were  born  two  days  apart  so  their  parents  made  the  unilateral  decision  to  pass  them  off  as  twins  and  make  their  birthday  the  day  between.  was  it  crazy?  yes.  can  people  with  money  do  whatever  they  want?  also  yes.   they  were  raised  as  twins  and  didn’t  know  the  truth  about  their  parentage  until  they  were  in  grade  school.  his  father  left  one  day,  cleaning  out  their  bank  accounts  and  hightailing  it  out  of  town,  and  everything  went  to  hell  from  there.  

his  mother  and  his  sister  would  struggle  with  substance  abuse  issues.  his  mother,  starting  when  they  were  young,  and  his  sister  as  they  got  old  enough  to  be  really  make  sense  of  things.  nova,  to  his  own  extent,  has  similar  tendencies  but  feels  like  he’s  ‘in  control’  of  them  because  his  life  isn’t  as  categorically  messed  up  as  theirs  are.  in  ways,  he  felt  like  he  had  to  step  up  and  be  the  one  to  take  care  of  them  —  essentially  filling  the  hole  that  their  father’s  leaving  left  in  their  lives.   even  though  he  was  only  ten  at  the  time.   he  tried  to  be  the  mature  one,  the  responsible  one,  and  tried  to  keep  his  life  relatively  together  to  make  sure  they  didn’t  crumble.   does  he  repress  his  own  feelings  until  they  get  so  bad  they  explode  out  of  him?  yes.  is  he  sometimes  ignorant  to  his  own  issues?  sees  things  as  justifiable,  or  excused,  because  he’s  looking  at  things  through  a  biased  lens?  again  ...  yes.  

when  his  father  skedaddled  out  of  town,  they  were  forced  to  move  in  with  his  maternal  aunt.   goodbye  olympic  swimming  pool,  hello  sprinkler  in  the  backyard.  suffice  to  say,  living  in  a  house  with  8  kids  spread  across  3  bedrooms,  privacy  and  normalcy  were  far  from  his  grasp.  thankfully,  his  mother  now  needing  a  job,  enabled  him  to  spend  more  time  out  of  the  house  than  in.   she  made  her  own  line  of  jewelry  and  was  trying  to  turn  it  into  a  business  at  local  markets  and  festivals.  nova,  the  more  sensible  of  the  lot,  was  in  charge  of  pricing,  keeping  track  of  their  money  box,  and  making  sure  they  never  ran  out  of  products  or  materials.  it  was  a  lot  of  responsibility  for  a  ten  year  old  but  by  the  way  he  looked  at  it,  it  was  their  ticket  out  of  the  zoo  that  was  their  house.   it  was  around  this  time  that  his  abilities  started  developing.  at  first  he  thought  it  was  dyslexia  but  the  sudden  onset  didn’t  make  sense.  without  the  proper  resources  to  get  tested,  he  was  left  just  trying  to  find  ways  to  deal  with  it  hope  for  the best.   in  the  meantime,  his  other  abilities  started  to  develop.   as  a  child  of  hades,  he  could  summon  souls  and  communicate  with  the  dead.   imagine  the  shock  of  that  the  first  time  he  started  getting  chatty  with  a  ghost.  eventually  the  dots  were  connected,  his  parentage  explained,  and  his  mother  found  a  way  to  monetize  that  as  they  started  working  festival  and  carnival  circuits.   he’d  be  behind  the  curtain,  a  bluetooth  piece  in  his  ear,  and  he’d  give  his  mother  all  the  information  she  needed  to  seem  like  a  gifted  medium.   it  was  all  real,  it  just  wasn’t  her  mother’s  gift.   from  then  on,  it  became  her  responsibility  —  her  abilities  —  that  kept  the  family  afloat.       

let’s  fast  forward  a  few  years.   now,  15,  nova’s  minding  his  own  business  when  his  father  shows  up  on  their  doorstep  and  decides  he’s  coming  back  home.  his  mother  and  sister  forgive  instantly  and  act  like  he’s  a  monster  for  not  accepting  him  back.  apparently  he’s  a  jerk  for  having  an  emotion  about  a  guy  who  abandoned  them  just  waltzing  back  into  their  lives  like  nothing  ever  happened.   it’s  right  around  that  time,  almost  like  he  knew  his  life  was  being  upended,  that  hades  claimed  him  as  his  son.   he  decided  to  trade  one  deadbeat  in  for  another  and  ended  up  at  camp  half-blood  a  few  weeks  later.   he  hasn’t  spoken  to  any  of  them  in  roughly  five  years.   ya  yeet.  

his  speciality  is  pyrokinesis,  which  means  he  can  control  and  manipulate  fire!   let  me  tell  you  ...  the  idea  of  creating  hellfire  pillars  to  trap  his  entire  family  in  his  father’s  realm  is  very  alluring.   i  think  the  only  reason  he  hasn’t  is  simply  because  it  would  probably  get  him  in  trouble  at  camp  and  he’d  have  to  be  around  them  to  do  so.   he’s  fully  content  to  stay  as  far  away  from  them  as  possible.  

when  he  got  to  camp  halfblood,  he  wasn’t  sure  what  to  expect.  ending  up  in  the  hermes  cabin  — because  hades  didn’t  have  one,  despite  being  one  in  the  big  three  —  probably  pissed  him  off.   he  was  claimed,  he  was  acknowledged,  so  it  definitely  made  him  angry  that  he  was  grouped  in  with  others  who  hadn’t  been.   so  when  they  announced  the  new  cabins,  he  simply  felt  it  was  a  matter  of  old  injustices  being  corrected.  

personality

nova’s  what  i  like  to  call  an  extroverted  introvert.  he  presents  as  extroverted  but  gets  very  anxious�� and  stressed  out  if  he’s  extroverting  for  long  periods  of  time.  he’s  happiest  when  he’s  squirrelled  away  listening  to  podcasts  or  music.  

he  has  a  pretty  big  chip  on  his  shoulder  when  it  comes  to  parents,  responsibility,  and  a  number  of  other  things.  he  was  forced  to  grow  up  really  quickly  so  he  takes  things  more  seriously  than  maybe  he  should,  or  needs  to.  he’s  also  the  type  of  person  who  internalizes  a  lot  of  his  anger,  or  upset  feelings,  so  it’s  not  uncommon  for  him  to  seem  virtually  unaffected  until  he  completely  snaps.  when  he  snaps,  it’s  ugly.   he  more-so  fights  with  his  words  than  with  his  fists,  but  it’s  not  completely  unheard  of  to  hear  about  him  getting  into  physical  fights.  

since  finding  out  that  he  had  abilities  and  that  he  was  a  demigod,  it’s  given  nova  a  sense  of  importance.   he  used  to  feel  like  being  special  was  overrated,  that  just  existing  was  hard  enough  as  is,  but  give  a  man  a  little  power  and  it  goes  straight  to  his  head.   he  has  really  committed  to  this  environment  and  is  pretty  good  at  hand-to-hand  combat,  though  he’s  not  so  great  at  anticipating  attacks.  he  probably  gets  knocked  back  on  his  ass  a  lot  but  he’s  not  one  to  grunt  and  complain  about  it.   he  figures  it  challenges  him  to  do  and  be  better  which  comes  back  to  that  feeling  of  specialness.   he  has  a  pathological  need,  almost,  to  belong  somewhere.   to  be  valued.   he’s  his  own  worst  critic  and  is  probably  sometimes  critical  of  those  around  him  too.  never  with  malicious  intent,  but  to  aim  for  greatness.   (  again,  it  comes  down  to  feeling  inferior,  like  he  wasn’t  enough  for  his  father  to  stay  all  those  years  ago,  and  now  he  overcompensates  to  make  sure  deadbeat  daddy  #2  isn’t  disappointed  in  him.  )

he’s  a  very  tactile  person.  his  hands  are  always  doing  something,  whether  it  be  running  through  his  hair,  rubbing  at  the  back  of  his  neck,  tapping  against  the  inside  of  his  arm,  or  playing  with  things  in  his  hands.  he  also  doesn’t  make  eye  contact  with  people  very  often  because  he  finds  it  uncomfortable.   when  he  knows  you,  trusts  you,  then  you  might  see  that  change.  

he’s  a  relatively  honest  person.  he  lies  a  lot  but  it’s  mostly  to  himself  lmao.  

[questwithjess]

An Open Letter, to the ‘Affected-By-YouTuber-Scandal’ Community:

**below includes some adult language and extensive discussion of sensitive topics** 

Okay, so…this is mostly regarding the current, Logan Paul debacle... 

I don’t often comment on these kinds of events; but this, plus Felix’s 2017 issues, have made me feel that it might now be irresponsible, not to try to explain some of the idiosyncratic, psychosocial phenomena, at play here.

Be warned, I’ve got a long, strange, tangent-prone, and distinct opinion: and it’s one, I imagine, not many people are going to approve of, or share in with me. 

Nor, is it the opinion most people would expect of someone who has, both, had a close friend commit suicide by hanging; and who also, on a separate occasion, found the body of a very close loved one. These are devastating experiences, and that goes without saying. However, the equally-unavoidable truth, is that these experiences are also highly subjective.

Of course, in Logan Paul’s case, we can all agree, including Logan himself, that he handled this more-than-badly. And honestly, if that was someone I loved in his video, it would be much harder for me to say this: but, even so, I do think that there’s more to this situation to be addressed, than just to vilify a still-maturing, still-youthfully-impulsively-irresponsible, career-choice-YouTuber.

And this is where context becomes SO important; because BOTH sides are morally right, to a degree.

These actions are both condemnable and defendable: because these actions will have various, subjective effects, on…you guessed it…various subjects.

And poignantly, in manifestation, it’s a lot like Felix’s fiverr-scandal in early 2017.

Yes, if you look at both of these situations emotionally, without deeper objective-analysis; they are both just insensitive, unnecessary, and hurtful faux pas that could’ve easily been avoided, by being more empathetic and heedful of overall feelings, decency, and political-moral-correctness. 

Yet, if the inquest is about whether or not these actions were done from an intention to harm or offend, or from an intention to inform or entertain; then, it’s no longer so simple to judge.

Philosophically, it can seem reasonable to declare, that such subject-matters should never be ‘entertainment,’ informative or not. And, this has long-since been an ethical-dilemma, for artists of all kinds. But, never before, have the rules for navigating this dilemma, been more complicated and unclear than they are now; and have been, ever, since our lives became inexorably-bound to the internet, and to the various forms of technology that, now-constantly, keep us attached. This is why, it becomes paramount, for all our well-beings’, to judge each situation, as calmly and rationally as possible. 

But, back to the individuals’ in question, and their remiss indiscretions. Remember, both of these incidents are related to highly-emotional situations, and cover topics where feelings run especially, and understandably, deep. 

And so, this naturally brings up part of the unwritten social contract, into which all well-known entertainers, of all mediums, enter. Their ultimate-success, is based on their fans; and the riskier the material they choose to feature, the more they are gambling with losing the favor of many of those fans.

However, this is where YouTube – and particularly, being a successful, 20-something YouTuber, coming into your emotional and neurological-maturity inside of the bubble that is YouTube – creates a unique, and incomparably-surreal, experience. 

This is especially true, in terms of inevitably-testing moral boundaries via their content; since, unlike other types of celebrities, YouTubers pretty much manage and represent their work, themselves. And, in many cases, they have very little image, or buffer zone, or entirely-fictional character, between them and their interactive audience. 

It is entirely up to them, with millions of viewers (and sometimes, the entire media-public) watching, to walk the tightrope of an incredibly-elusive balance. They have to continuously keep their fans, and YouTube, and the public happy; whilst in the process, also staying, both, financially-profitable, and personally true to themselves.

Whether they’re conscious of it or not; along with this career they’ve chosen, they’ve also accepted a constant struggle to reconcile all these competing factors, on a nonstop, daily basis.

Their lives, essentially, become YouTube. 

Everything becomes their content.

And to be inside of that uncanny-surreality; is to look at life, through a new cognitive-filter. 

So, it’s these psychosocial phenomena of artistically-detached-ethical-mystification and real-world-surreal-world-disconnect, that, in my opinion, explain exactly how and why Logan & his friends, did not preemptively, realistically-consider the probability of encountering a deceased person in Aokigahara.

As much, as why Felix didn’t completely, realistically-foresee that he was eventually going to cross the ‘too offensive to be socially-acceptable’ line, and that the consequences for doing-so, would be so undeniably-far-reaching.

And so, this is where I plead; not, for you to ever ignore your feelings, or to ever give these guys a pass when they screw up. 

But rather, merely, to try to understand them, hear them out, let them explain, and accept their sincere apologies when they offer them.

Remember, their worlds exist, always adjacent and attached to, the precarious mediums of YouTube, video, and the internet. And, because of this, they are eternally sharing with us, pieces of themselves.

Sharing with us, their best and worst moments.

And so, before we only exactingly-express our criticisms; I feel as though they also deserve these practical considerations. 

I also, truly believe, there’s a way to express your disagreement with their actions, without cruelly and hatefully trying to tear them down as people. 

For better or worse, they made these mistakes while trying to show people something that they’ve never seen before. And yes, their negligent actions do have consequences; but so too, are there consequences to the actions of those who maliciously-attack the non-malicious-actions of others. Just something to consider.

This is a good place to note: I know, it might sound like I’m just defensive-fangirling, but that’s not, quite, the case.

And I’ll totally admit, I do have some bias, in Felix’s case.

I have watched, the illustrious, ‘PewDiePie’ for years. 

Yes, because I find his...particular...humor, uniquely-engaging.

But, even more so; it’s because I find him cathartic. 

As weird as it is to admit; he’s like the male, Swedish version of who I used to be, personality-wise. To the point where, I often, literally, predict what he’s going to say or do, before he says or does it. Also, he looks just like an old friend of mine; and, I mean, they are nearly identical twins, down to the voice.

These are totally-subjective reasons for viewership, I know.

But, they lend to the fact, that the core of my appreciation of him, may be one of sympathetic-thoughtfulness; but, it is in no way, mindless-fan-worship. 

More than anything, my qualitative, if not abstract, comprehension of his identity, comes with the ingrained acknowledgement and acceptance of his semi-flawed morality. 

Just as I acknowledge and accept my own flawed-morality, past and present.

And, in truth, it’s that very-same ethical-imperfection, that allows him to create his ever-inimitable, and beloved, brand of comedy. Just as mine, allows me to try to honestly and empathetically analyze, both best and worst of occurrences. 

Experiencing his humor, has seriously taught me invaluable lessons; and it’s one of the most emphatic examples I have, in understanding how similar moral-identities can improve, hold-steady, or decline, dependent on the presence of differing, relative life experiences.

So, basically, I guess I think of Felix as a study-guide: called to YouTube by our mercurial and morbidly-hilarious universe, itself. I don’t always agree with what he says or does, but I'm constantly seeing the world in new ways, because of the distinctive perspective that he offers.

That being said, even though I understand and appreciate his humor-driven, moral-ambiguity; I do not deny the negative consequences that inevitably manifest, when anyone pushes that line too far. 

Which, as we all know, last year, he did.

But, again, this is why context is so important. Felix’s satirical-humor is indeed, often offensive; but, it has never, once, been from a hateful place. 

Disaffected, and cynical? Maybe.

Nihilistic, and reckless? Maybe.

But, hateful? No, never.

It might be true, that he doesn’t always take these issues seriously enough, given his young, vast, impressionable audience and the current human-rights-atmosphere of our planet; and, that does, honestly, bother me sometimes. But, I also can’t ignore, that though seriousness and compassion are not the defining trademarks of his channel; they are the definite cornerstones of his charity work.

In the bigger picture, I’m not sure if there’s any way to create honest comedy, without producing both positive and negative effects. Or, whether or not social-moral-consciousness should empathetically-supersede that comedy. But, I do know that, for every person, full-spectrum-conscientiousness grows at its own, individually-singular rate. And our complete-empathetic-capacities develop, as our relatively-occurring life experiences, catalyze their transformations.

Though he’s already grown so much, over the last few years; something humorless, and close to his heart, may further-change how Felix sees the world, one day. And that change, might in turn, further-affect his personality, his humor, and thusly, his YouTube content. But, if not or until then, his cleverly-jarring-comedy will continue to enlighten, for his viewers, the full scope of human nature. The good, the bad, and all the indescribable-weirdness, in between.

But, back to my main point...    

With Logan Paul, it’s a very different story. I’d heard of him plenty, but had never actually watched his channel before all of this; because honestly, besides Felix and a few others, I don’t stay current with YouTubers, the way I once did. Though, ironically, after this whole disaster, I actually have developed a certain kind of respect for Logan as a creator; and it’s one, that I wouldn’t have had, otherwise.

That sounds horrible; but just hear me all-the-way out, okay? Please?

His previous content that I’ve, now, just checked out, trying to get a read on him; has been mostly funny-but-frivolous, classic-youth humor and drama. 

I found his personality to be a trite-but-interesting-enough, pesky-but-charismatic blend of unique and basic; that typical, early-20s-mixture of being part authentic, and part who you think you’re supposed to be, for popularity’s sake. Overall, my impression was that he was probably a decent-enough guy, but definitely still had lots of work to do, towards cultivating his full-identity.

Also, low-key, it became clear, pretty quickly, that he hadn’t yet been tested with real adversity in life. And, in practice, whenever you combine that inexperience with an oblivious, just-go-with-the-flow attitude, eventually you’re in for a rude awakening.

But, that’s just me being a hindsight-oracle. 

And I’m sorry, because that rarely helps.

Anyway, my point was, that Logan was definitely not my usual viewing-material.

Too much trendy-mainstream-consumerism; not enough peculiar, thought-provoking, or meaningful substance.

Until this.

Like it or not, this is a significant – yes, albeit a profoundly-intimate – moment, that he’s captured.

Carelessly and invasively, he captured this moment: yes. 

But, like for any journalist, even an unintentional one, is that not what it takes to capture the most awe-striking, and heart-wrenching of real moments? The moments that change our understanding, and our shared-humanity?

I think, it was not his conscious-intention to witness real death, even in the so-named ‘suicide forest,’ and because of that oversight-in-judgement and logical-preparation; his reaction was one of shock, and not one of sense.

But, after consideration, I feel that when he momentarily-shared that video with the world, it was, surely, not only for the views. 

I think he posted it, because once the cameras were finally off, he felt the power of that experience and he knew that witnessing such reality, had changed him, and thus, that it could change others. Though, how it would change them, he most likely did not fully comprehend until after he’d posted it.

Now, either way, I’m NOT saying that I endorse the choice he, originally, made. 

Posting that full, graphic video was always going to be damaging to many people. And whether he truly realized how vast the scope of that damage would be, before the public-outrage made it so-decidedly clear; that’s something only he knows, for sure. Regardless, he quickly removed the video, and stated his sincerest regrets for any pain that he caused. And I actually found him to be melancholy and heartfelt. His past hubris, seemed considerably diminished.

Nonetheless, if I’m being totally honest, whether this is why he posted it originally, or not, I believe it still remains true: it is within these intensely important, scary, solemn, palpable, unforeseen experiences, and all the weird ways that we honestly, humanly react to them; that we learn some of the most memorable lessons.

No, we should never knowingly seek to exploit others’ pain in order to learn, or to teach; but, when we haphazardly-happen upon that pain, and become a part of it, I believe not learning from it, would be the even-greater wrongdoing.

In this case, that meant watching-unfold, the aftermath of one of the saddest-actualities of life; as well as, concurrently, watching-unfold the realest experience of Logan Paul’s life, thus far.

Yes, 22 means he’s a man, and not a boy. But, in reality, at 22 the prefrontal cortex is still developing. And the full processing-spectrums of judgement-capacity, reflection and discretion, and rational-awareness in regard to the accumulation of significant-life-experiences, are all still developing.

For fuck’s sake, he said he’s never even seen (not just never found, or been near, but never seen) a dead body. That means he’s never been to an open-casket funeral yet, in his 22 years of living. Imagine that life-experience bubble. Then imagine, on top of that, you’re a semi-wealthy, (white) American youth, who doesn’t really respect or understand the deeper side of life yet, because you’re still just in that ‘live fast, have fun, do you, chase your dream’ mentality.

Inside of this, you can tell that he did not thoroughly grasp what that forest meant, before going there. And if that ignorance offends you, you are more than allowed to feel that way. 

Intellectually, it seems obvious that knowing the stories, and encountering the weight of their truth, are two, very different perspectives. But, sometimes this cannot be fully-understood, until a real-life experience shows you. 

A fact, that will hopefully never be lost on Logan, his friends, or any of us, again.

And that’s one reason, anyway; why I think sometimes, awful mistakes, like this video, need to happen. 

Of all the paths, in all the forest, they wound up there. From a semi-average ‘YouTuber-on-location’ stunt; to a legitimate test of character, for all of us.

I think, that what they were expecting, was an abstract-legend. They thought they’d have a regular camping trip, scare each other with ghost stories, and then add in some PSA, as an afterthought. What they got was a life-altering experience in true reality; one that they hadn’t wholly absorbed yet, while they were filming what we saw.

This is where it also, must, be understood, that for some people who experience this (discovering a deceased person), especially for those who have lived safely-sheltered lives, or for those who are used to employing emotional-compartmentalization; when they are suddenly faced with real, unfiltered death it can take quite a while for it to really, viscerally hit them.

This perplexing state, is metaphorically-comparable to a dazing-fog of surreality.

And the length of the adjustment-period, back to aware-acceptance, is defined by many things; including, whether or not that experience, has an audience, taking precedence over it.

Yet, this is one, vital reason, why the public forum exists: so, that we can see that we all deal with these difficult situations differently, and to learn to accept and not judge or hate that.

Yes, we may, unavoidably, feel as though they did not handle the situation respectfully. And those are absolutely valid feelings. But, how the guilt will find them later, and the good they may do because of it; we cannot, yet, know.

Yes, for some, the emotional-reaction is instantaneous. They cry. They scream. They pray. They beg. They just shut down. 

But, also yes, that other times, they keep on filming and then post, simply because that’s what they’ve always done, and they are still in the process of understanding the gravity of all that’s just changed. 

Though they feel it later, they still feel it deeply and truly.

There are SO many reactions, I could never list them all. 

This is the nature of death. And, it affects us each, differently.

But, when we’re faced with the unthinkable, I feel, we can either look away from what’s painful, and never fully see it; or we can accept the discomfort that comes with looking right at it, and learning from it all we can, in order to save others.

Because I can guarantee you, someone saw the harsh-reality, in that video; and it was the sobering wake-up call they needed, to no longer romanticize, or glamorize, or trivialize the idea of suicide.

Someone saw them reacting slowly, and casually, and not handling it perfectly; and finally stopped beating themselves up, for reacting the same way in a different-but-similar scenario.

And yes, unfortunately, given his young fan-base, there were also, assuredly, some morbidly-curious kids who were faced with their first, visceral dose of life-and-death reality. Whether that was a maturing-lesson or a scarring-trauma; again, will be subjective to the child. 

I, myself, experienced a very similar test while still in elementary school. And, though I did, consequently, have a great-many complicated feelings to work through; overall, it taught me some very crucial truths, about seeking out adult knowledge as a child. Truths, which would later, prove to save my life.

All in all, there are many interpretations, perspectives, and outcomes.

Negative, and positive. 

Things work out in as many ways, as there are people and possible choices.

And we don’t all feel the same, about what heals us and hurts us, when dealing with tragedy.

Plenty of people, feel that no matter how shocking your choice of how you talk about it is, that the most important thing is to express yourself truthfully and genuinely. And, what he posted was definitely-not sensitive or tactful: but, it was bravely, brutally, and transparently honest.

My final point, more than anything, is this: I feel that, as negative as the whole situation is (and this applies to almost-all other such ‘celebrities’ and ‘scandals’), adding more negativity, almost seemingly-trying to push Logan to the brink of the very-despair we’re all supposedly-fighting; this helps, literally, no one.

It, especially, doesn’t help the memory of the person whose life was lost.

Instead, we should all be honoring that person by learning their story, respecting their memory through not further-using them for our own agendas, and also, by associating with them a peaceful-event, where we choose to look at the full-spectrum of life’s volatile-truths; in order to finally love each other and ourselves a little more, and to treat each other and ourselves a little better.

So, let’s all be better people, right now; by finding a way to express our negative emotions, without casting excessive and divisive shame and hatred. Because, fundamentally, in their use, they undermine the very-worthy cause, we’re supposed to be defending.

We’re supposed to be, being kinder to each other, and to ourselves.

Kindness > Blame

Forgiveness is a virtue, to all. Always. 

Especially, when it’s challenging. 

So, no matter how obscure or famous the person: find a way to be kind.

This is how the most lives are saved, in the grander scheme.

Note: Though this is an open letter; its intention is to provoke contemplative silences, not angry responses. I hope that I portrayed the fact that I respect everybody’s right to their opinion, whether they agree or disagree with the opinions I’ve stated here. And though, it is my true hope, that one day we can all talk these things out rationally, rather than emotionally-reacting with wrath; ultimately, that’s a choice every person has to make for themselves. So, if you agree with what I’ve said: thank you. If you disagree with what I’ve said: thank you. And if you’ve fully-understood all I’ve said: double thank you. Seriously, I’m obviously a very long-winded, over-analytical, micro-editing, weird-stream-of-consciousness kind of writer. I’m sure to most people, this will read as confusing and all over the place. But, hey, that’s just my manifestation of truth. Thanks, friends. Be well.  

[buzzmery]

How To Be a far better Wife: 11 Tips To think about

How To Be an honest Wife Let’s talk all about the way to be a far better wife.

Does this thought have you ever scratching your head? These ideas are here to assist.

Let me start this off by saying I do know it takes two to form a wedding work. Team sports for the win!

But don’t spend an excessive amount of time analyzing if you ought to attempt to make a change until your husband changes x, y, and z. Don’t do something supported by what your partner is or isn’t doing.

Look inside yourself. believe the way to be a far better wife today!

How to be an honest wife! An all-around better person.

This is not a contest to ascertain who is doing more work and who is doing it better.

Making a change is for yourself even as very much like for your spouse.

I included my husband in on this one. I even have been loving hearing his combat things.

Yes, it is often hard sometimes. He may have used the word trapped during a conversation. But there’s little question in my mind that those hard conversations cause better things.

Dare I exploit the word breakthrough?

Now, this might surprise you. But I'm no marriage counselor. Although, some days I desire one.

But I'm hooked into thriving in my marriage. to mention I do touch research is an irony.

Just like there's nobody size fits all with parenting. an equivalent is true for marriage.

These are things I make it a priority to figure on. I'm constantly evaluating myself and my relationship with my hubby. Doing a touch check-in you'll say.

You know when the check engine light comes on in your car.

Well, picture a light-weight like that for your marriage. Keep things running smoothly with these tried and true tips.

This post contains affiliate links, which suggests I'll receive a little commission, at no cost to you, if you create a sale through a link. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Here Are 11 recommendations on the way to Be a far better Wife and Improve Your Marriage 1) Give Him Some Space OK, so I'd be the lady waiting at the highest of the steps like an eager dog when my hubby gets home from work. and that I am armed with a minimum of 3 things to inform him about my day.

And I follow him around to whatever room he goes in. Oops. Now, I don’t do that to harass him. I'm not purposely invading his personal space every second.

I am just legitimately happy to ascertain him. and therefore the incontrovertible fact that he isn’t running into my arms has been known to harm my feelings.

Even though we all know most are different. It is often a challenge to accept and understand this. then adjust accordingly.

I am comfortable with him invading my personal space most of the time but that’s not how he's employed. And that’s fine.

There are worse things than him wanting some space. albeit sometimes my heart feels a touch broken.

I am performing on TRYING to ascertain things from his side and not take everything so personally.

2) Know His Love Language This one may be a game-changer. For you and your spouse.

Knowing a love language can assist you better understand the various ways people give and receive love.

If you've got no idea what this is often then you're certain a treat. This book is so helpful!

I can consider a couple of (OK a lot) of times I wish I might have had this handy marriage tool. But luckily I do now.

Does this mean we sleep in marital bliss?

Sometimes.

Does this mean I understand him a touch more?

Also sometimes.

But I assure you this book helped us understand one another more.

3) Compliment More Do you give compliments regularly? I'm not talking about gushing over your spouse. I’m talking about small things.

These little things can take a backseat during a marriage. Life goes on and that we forget to only stop and say something nice. Isn’t that crazy. We forget to mention nice things.

I try very hard to form sure I'm dispensing compliments daily.

Compliments give me a touching pep in my step. I'm pretty sure it does an equivalent for my husband. and every one the opposite men out there.

One last item. Don’t roll in the hay just to urge something reciprocally. that kind of defeats the aim.

I know I even have been guilty of this. Staring him down so hard and most the time he's watching me with no idea why my eyes are bulging out of my head.

This is a reminder to all or any folks that a compliment is 100% for and about the opposite person.

4) Criticize Less I am a professional at giving my two cents. Who isn’t?

I’m sort of a cat able to pounce.

But sometimes an individual doesn't want advice or your combat things. they only want to be heard. Listened to.

I am performing on knowing when my combat things aren't needed. Man, this is often a tough one. Especially once I desire I even have the solution or I do know a far better way. My mouth and my brain start having an inner argument.

My mouth has been known to win but what am I able to say. I’m a piece ongoing.

And ladies, sometimes we do know best. Am I right?

5) means Something Good a day Some days this may be easy peasy. Other days, it's going to take some deep thinking to return up with something.

But I still try. It doesn’t need to be anything huge. I even have found that it is that the little things that matter. These are the items that fall flat the cracks.

This also involves being thankful. I find myself browsing the motions and not stopping to be grateful.

Showing appreciation for the items my husband does. Even when all I would like to try to do is call him out for x, y, and z.

My husband is the best daddy to our female child. So, even on the rough days, there's always that tiny nugget of excellent.

Even when it feels challenging, find, and acknowledge the great in your spouse.

6) specialize in The Positive He doesn't get to hear about every little annoyance that occurred in my day. Becoming a negative Nancy may be a slippery slope.

We all have crap days. and that we want to vent to someone. That’s fine and dandy. But my venting was the type that never stopped. It just went on and on.

It is very easy for that to happen. you begin by saying one thing and your level of annoyance keeps rising and you're mad everywhere again. I don’t want something to possess that much control over me.

Focus on the positive in yourself, the positive you see in others, and therefore the positive things in your life.

how to be a far better wife 7) Asking What He Wants/Needs My husband works tons. I do know I'm not alone during this. So, when he's off I tend to form the plans for the day. Without even talking with him. I just tell him what we do that day.

This is another one among those things I am not doing maliciously. But maybe he's not on board with having his entire time off controlled.

Maybe he's feeling tired or drained. Maybe he's mentally exhausted and wishes some alone time.

I don’t know if I don’t ask. I could await him to inform me eventually. But at that time, he has been holding things in and that we all skills that sometimes seems.

We all know the hard part about change. the sole person we will change is ourselves. I know, bummer. Some days, i wish I could change my husband.

But something amazing happens once you work on yourself. It won’t happen overnight but it's pretty safe to mention you'll see a change in your spouse.

Fingers crossed, ladies!

8) Give Him Guy Time Girl talk makes me feel alive. Seriously. It makes me feel rejuvenated.

So, maybe it does an equivalent for him?

This one is tough on my behalf. In my mind, his eagerness to spend time together with his friends is not eager to spend time with me. But it doesn’t work like that. Some days I would like ice coffee and a few days hot coffee is my ally.

It is not always about choosing one thing over another.

I am black and White. The struggle is real, friends!

A bonus to the present is him having some guy time is additionally an ideal opportunity to specialize in some self-care!

I planned and began this blog while he was playing video games together with his friends!

9) leave of Your temperature I need to form an attempt to try to things that aren't my exact cup of tea.

Like when it's his address pick the movie for date night. I desire there's no way I will be able to like his pick then find yourself loving it.

I am not the foremost adventurous person around. And I’m fine with the way I'm. But a part of being during a relationship is doing things for the opposite person. Even once you don’t desire it.

10) Speak Up Ever hold something certain goodbye that you simply word barfed everywhere your husband.

And maybe, within the beginning, it wasn’t an enormous thing. But it grew and grew sort of a weed. Now, it seems like there's a dang 20 foot oak inside you waiting to burst out.

Communication is crucial. (Don’t miss these communication tips that are vital for your relationship)

The biggest mistake I wont to make was saying those certain two words. “I’m fine.”

Those words mean anything but that. I might say they then hold things in and expect him to read my mind. I assumed I used to be making it obvious I used to be not fine but apparently, he just thought it had been my time of the month or something.

The deduct from this?

Talk it out. Always!

how to be a far better wife 11) Watch Your Words Does this sound familiar? you usually do x, y, and z. You NEVER do that or that.

These words were my best friends. once you are mad about something, it can desire things are always or never a particular way. Especially when this thing went on before.

The best thing I can do when my blood is boiling is to require a moment. Hit the pause button.

If a screaming match starts, neither one among you is listening. you're just thinking of what you're getting to say next. Your next insult is on deck.

And this does absolutely nothing positive for your relationship.

Marriage isn't a one-person job. But sometimes it can desire you're alone. the reality is marriage is going to be hard. I stray far away from using the word easy in the least when it involves relationships.

There are different seasons. Sometimes a tough season will sneak up on you. Like snow in April. Rare in my parts but it's happened. It just happened the opposite day.

Now, I still get mad. I still say things I don’t mean and exaggerate situations. So does he. So does everyone. But I attempt to speak in a way that helps move a conversation forward.

[shg11]

I've been around the block on this website a few times, and I've noticed that if there are two things you bitches love, it's horoscopes and. I count myself firmly in this camp, BTW. I'm not going to act like I'm above either of those things. So I thought to myself, "Why not combine the two things betches hold most dear, into one completely nonsensical accurate horoscope?" And that's exactly what I did. Through some very careful plotting of the movement of the stars and calling upon my own photographic memory of every episode of , I bring you: What SVU detective are you based on your horoscope? If you've ever tried to convince your friends that you're an Olivia, I'm going to need you to take every single seat. Everyone thinks they're an Olivia, okay? In reality, only one sign can be Benson. And Benson isn't even the best SVU detective (now sergeant). So which of these dedicated detectives who make up this elite squad are you? Read 'em and weep.

Aries - Amanda Rollins

Yeah, I bet you all thought I’d start this list off with Benson because Aries are natural born leaders, didn’t you? Surprise, bitch. Y’all get Rollins. Rollins came into the SVU squad hot by catching that identical twin serial rapist who followed his innocent twin brother across state lines to commit assault after assault, so we all thought she was a good one. Just like you, Aries, Rollins has some promising qualities. But you know what Aries’ worst quality is? They’re impulsive, impatient, and moody. Rollins has a fucking gambling addiction (impulsive), won't be put on desk duty even though she's pregnant (impatient), and won’t stop enabling her piece of shit sister who TRIED TO SEND HER TO PRISON (too fucking sentimental aka moody)—so yeah, I think that all describes Rollins impeccably. Sorry not sorry, you secretly suck.

^See? MOODY!

Taurus - Mike Dodds

Taurus (Taurans? Tauri?) are reliable and responsible, but they can also be stubborn and uncompromising. Likewise, Dodds was a professional through and through, unlike the rest of these bozos that make up this so-called “elite squad”. Dodds did his work. He even helmed the SVU for a while. But he also refused to leave SVU for a cushy job at the joint terrorism task force that his dad had set up for him. It was a stubborn move that ultimately led to his death—and if there's one thing Taurus is known for, it's bullheadedness. Not even a pun, just actual factual. Taurus, your ability to stick to your guns is admirable, just make sure it doesn’t get you shot in the line of duty. (Ok, pun was unintentional at first, but then I decided to just go with it.)

Gemini - Ed Tucker

That’s fucking right, Gemini, you’re not even a real SVU detective because your ass can’t be trusted. Geminis are literally known for being two-faced, and there’s nobody the SVU distrusts more than Tucker over at IAB. He supposedly works for the NYPD, and yet that guy seems to have a personal vendetta against the Special Victims Unit. Why? (*Thinks back to every illegal maneuver Stabler, Amaro, etc. have ever gotten away with* Oh. Ok.) One minute, you’re convinced he’s shutting down the SVU for good, the next, he’s like, "Gotcha!! You all THOUGHT I would make you face the consequences for your actions... psych!" I just cannot figure this guy out, just like I cannot figure out what my dad will get angry about and what he'll be cool with, and my dad is also a Gemini. Coincidence? IDK, I'll bring it up in my next therapy session. That said, it’s not completely fair to paint Geminis as unpredictable freaks—you can be very thoughtful and affectionate, which is I assume how Tucker managed to win over Benson. And, I’ll admit, Ed wasn’t a bad guy and was probably the most stable and caring male figure in Benson’s life thus far. Retirement suited him well. Not saying the same goes for you, Gemini, but you might want to take that 401K seriously just in case. (Not horoscope-related advice, just general life advice.)

Cancer - Dani Beck

Cancers are the pussies of the zodiac in the sense that they are highly emotional. Hey, don’t cry at me; I’m just the messenger. This bleeding heart Dani tries to take in a child because she feels bad for her, only she doesn’t bother to do it the proper way, like, through the authorities or New York State foster care system (whatever that is). She’s just all, “Oh you’re so cute and emotionally disturbed, come sleep on my couch.” That plan went up in flames—literally. Hope she had renter's insurance. Later on, once again too emotional to make a decision on whether to stay in the SVU or leave, Dani tries to put the decision onto Elliot, who’s like “nah fam, I'm not doing this." Cancer, it’s great that you care about people, but try thinking with your brain sometime. It might get you into less trouble and life-threatening situations. There is a limit to empathy. You know what they say: Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm. Okay, enough fire metaphors.

^Honestly, Munch, a valid question.

Leo - Nick Amaro

Everyone thinks Aries are the leader of the zodiac, but anyone who actually bothers to read horoscopes other than their own knows Leos are always shadily killing it. Y’all are warm, action-oriented, and driven by the desire to be loved. That last bit reminded me a lot of Michael Scott, but we can save e horoscopes for another day. Anyway, you Leos are Amaro, you lucky bitches. You’re a sun sign so you’re hot (I know it’s a huge stretch but please, let me have my thirst), but you’re also loyal and trustworthy. Tbh, Nick was loyal to Olivia almost to a fault (kind of like another certain partner of hers…what perfume does she wear?). However, Leos are also stubborn af and inflexible, kinda like how Nick refused to see that his marriage was crumbling right before his very eyes. Andddd kinda like how Nick was told not to hunt down pedophile David Rosen on his own accord like some state-funded vigilante, but he beat him to a bloody pulp anyway and almost lost his job and actually compromised his entire career for it. Fam. I was rooting for you, we were all rooting for you!

Virgo - John Munch

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and it also makes up one of Virgo’s major flaws, according to the random horoscope website off of which I based most of this list. As a Virgo, you’re hardworking, practical, and loyal, but you can also be a worrywart who’s overly critical. Sound familiar? It should, because while Munch is the ultimate ride-or-die for the SVU squad, the dude is also kind of a nutcase. Like, he probably doesn’t have a smartphone because he thinks the government has bugged it (and he’s probably not wrong tbh given that every WiFi device was just hacked and nobody in the media is reporting about this). Munch is always ranting and raving about Big Brother, and he probably should chill a bit, seeing as he literally works for the government. But Munch, and Virgos, will probably be right, only they won't say "I told you so" because they hate attention. Although a bit of a wallflower, Virgos are extremely perceptive. Similarly, if you listen closely to anything Munch says, you will notice that he is always getting to the heart of people's issues with this one-liner jabs, and no one ever gives him the proper acknowledgment for his biting sarcasm and critiques. Ah, well. That's life, as a sarcastic Jiminy Cricket, I suppose.

^That's the pot calling the kettle paranoid, eh, John?

Libra - Odafin Tutuola

Balanced and fair and not one to rock the boat, Libras are Ice-T to a T. Am I biased because I’m a Libra and Ice-T is my favorite SVU detective? Probably, but what are you gonna do? Arrest me? Look, Ice-T… fine, FIN, is the cool, calm, and collected detective who doesn’t get rattled, even when people call him racist slurs in the interrogation room. He’s also prone to playing “good cop” and pretending to empathize with the perps so he can get a good confession. (Seriously, watch like, any episode and I bet you’ll hear Fin say something like, “I get it. You spent all that money on dinner and she wouldn’t give it up? Who does that bitch think she is?”). Libras are all about keeping the peace and care about others, which can sometimes blow up in their faces, like when you try to not get involved with Rollins’ obvious gambling addiction but then it starts affecting her work and you end up loaning her thousands of dollars to go undercover in an underground casino. C’mon, Fin. You don’t give money to an addict. That’s like, rule number one of enabling. You’re never gonna get that bread back. Be kind, be fair, but don’t be a fucking patsy.

Scorpio - Elliot Stabler

The word “Scorpio” is basically synonymous with “psycho,” so here we fucking are, Scorpio/Stabler. Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be, because you know you’re one clever perp or issue with your kids away from taking a dive off the deep end. (You really should get those children in therapy. And also, stop calling your son "Dicky". I bet that's the root of like, 75% of his issues.) Sure, Scorpios are assertive and natural born leaders—that’s what got you here and why you succeeded for so many seasons. But, to put it bluntly, you’re also a fucking sadists who enjoy watching people suffer. Which would explain the multiple department-ordered anger management classes and the string of pedophiles who’ve almost walked away scot-free because you couldn’t control your fists in the interrogation room, ELLIOT.

Sagittarius - Dominick Carisi Jr.

Yeah, I didn't know there was a Dominick Carisi Sr., either, until I looked it up just now. Mind blown. Curious and energetic, Sagittarius keep an open mind, much like how Carisi went from being a low-key misogynist (it wasn’t really malicious; he was just ignorant) to #WokeBae in the span of only a few seasons. We also have to respect Carisi’s thirst for knowledge, as he’s the only one on this squad who’s ever made significant moves to better himself by going to law school—and no, attending department mandated therapy sessions does not count as “bettering” oneself (you know who you are). Despite meaning well, Sagittarius can sometimes put their foot in their mouth and say whatever comes to mind, no matter how undiplomatic their ideas may be. And I’d say that describes, oh, 90% of Carisi’s opinions in his first season. It’s okay, Carisi. You’re learning. Sagittarius are travel lovers, but I swear to God if Carisi leaves the show and they keep Olivia, there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me, Dick?! HELL!

Capricorn - Olivia Benson

Capricorns are responsible and disciplined, and while I personally am not living for Olivia’s character arc as of late, I’ve gotta say the woman is responsible when it comes to like, her kid and also like, not completely waving her middle finger in the face of the law and NYPD procedure (*cough* Amaro *cough* STABLER *COUGHS UP A LUNG*). Sorry. Anyway, Capricorns are good managers, and Olivia is doing a pretty decent job managing this squad of goons. (Mostly directed at Rollins.) Independent in their personal and professional lives, a Capricorn’s personal motto is “Can’t Tell Me Nothin’”. And if that’s not Olivia, IDK what is. You really can’t tell this woman nothin’. You can’t tell her not to date every man in her immediate professional circle; you can’t tell her to fucking TELL SOMEONE if she’s going to go off and secretly meet known rapist and sadistic kidnapper, William Louis, in an abandoned building; you can’t tell her that no, a woman who gets tricked into bed by a man who lied about his name and job title was not raped. Seriously, that’s not how it works, Olivia. That’s not how any of this works.

^Never forget

Aquarius - Monique Jeffries

Aquarians are usually shy and quiet, but they can have a bit of a crazy and unpredictable side. Who else better fits that bill than Jeffries, the woman who never did anything interesting until boom, one explosion and she’s gone off the deep end, going on dates with former rape suspects. Just think about that. Sorry your horoscope is kind of lame, but like, there's not a whole lot to say about you or this woman. Become more interesting and then report back to me with your results.

Pisces - Brian Cassidy

Pisces, y’all are some paranoid and hysterical motherfuckers. You get way too sentimental and it can hinder your life progress—kinda like how Cassidy gets made fun of in season one because he can’t control his emotions about the cases. And like, I get it, I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to be cavalier in the face of sex crimes, but that’s why I didn’t sign myself up to work in the sex crimes division of the NYPD. Know yourself. Work on that, and then maybe you can have another brief stint in SVU a full decade later. One of Pisces' major weaknesses is their desire to escape reality, which can get them into trouble—for instance, when they sign up for a multi-year undercover operation, get into a relationship with a prostitute, get shot and almost die when their undercover status is exposed, and later on get accused of rape by a prostitute they met undercover years prior which causes them to get demoted. You know, just a totally random example. Find a healthy and less literal way to escape reality, Pisces/Cassidy.

  Read more: http://www.betches.com/what-law-and-order-svu-detective-you-are-based-on-your-horoscope

[vitanteactawrites]

Sometimes two isn’t enough

Fandom: Supernatural / AU

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lucifer 

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam [no incest]

Word Count: 1734

Part[s]: 1

Warnings: Mention of blood, kidnapping, torture

Author’s note: Hey everyone, this is the first fanfic I've posted so please be gentle [though criticism and suggestions are welcomed]. This is going to be a multi-part fic but I couldn't wait to post the beginning! I hope you all enjoy.

It's hard to remember anything past the darkness that surrounds you. At first, it had been dreadfully eery and accompanied by nothing but a bone chilling silence. It was a form of torture - to leave you with nothing but memories and a spark of lost hope. A spark that was flamed to life and quickly vanquished every time a man appeared before you to gloat. Each time, it was the same news. Their souls had returned to earth and they'd been born. They had gotten married. Had children. Died. Every new visit was like a knife twisting into a carefully healed wound over the realization that all of those things ought to have been experienced at your side. It was the mere acknowledgement that they were safe, out living life away from the monster before you that allowed you to keep trucking on. The hope of reuniting - someday - kept you sane and kept the willing twinkle of resistance in your eyes because each time he spoke, his eyes grew more haunted. He would never be granted the revenge he deserved because they were God's favorites. The unique case, and until God's will ended, their souls would continue to return to heaven and earth in an on-going cycle.

Your body went into shock the moment your surroundings changed. The brightness of the area alone was enough for your to flinch back - for your body to momentarily curl into itself. There were voices, all of which were indistinguishable over the roar of noise. Birds, running water, wind, leaves in the trees. Things you hadn't heard in what felt like hundreds, if not thousands of years. Things you long to see, to touch. Eyes flared with color - bright blue - a brief flash of power that quickly disappeared to be replaced with their natural color. Blinking rapidly, your head lulled to the side, as you attempted to adjust to the light while trying to soak up everything around you. There was lust green grass you wanted to dig your fingers into, a bright blue sky and trees in the distance. But it was the gravestones that made cold dread coil in your gut, and for a moment, you feared he'd brought you to see their graves as just another form of torment.

Seeking, your eyes find him almost immediately - a reflex from years of knowing, and running. It's obvious your gaze must be burning a hole in his skin because as his eyes drop toward you, the malicious smile on his face growing in size.

"Well, it looks like sleeping beauty has finally decided to join us. Don't be rude Y/N, say hello to our guests." The dread that had begun to coil in your gut intensifies almost immediately as your head snaps up to look around the area, landing on the sight of two men with unfamiliar faces. They are dirty from battle it would seem. There is blood on the forehead of one, the other sports a split lip, and exhaustion - confusion - sparkles in two beautiful sets of eyes. And despite the lack of physical recognition, your heart practically leaps from your chest. The distance causes a dull ache and it takes everything in you not to cry out in desire of closing the distance and wrapping yourself in a feeling you'd so utterly lacked. The thought is brought to an abrupt end when your unconscious movement forward is halted by chains. The faint jingle had been over looked, but now it became obvious that shackles lay around your wrists. Confusion seeped through your bones as you gave one a gentle tug.

"Uh-uh-uh." The soft tsk brings you back to Lucifer, a sneer beginning to spread across your features. "I was just telling the boys they ought to reconsider their plan. They haven't known until now that I hold something immensely important to them."

You prepare yourself to curse him - to lung forward and rip his head from his body, but a mere snap of fingers gifts you with a gag. Your scream is effectively muffled by the cloth, but it doesn't stop you from trying to lung at him. The metal chains hold you back with ease, the friction against your skin already beginning to rub it raw, but it doesn't stop you. Your eyes shine bright with hatred and a promise of death. Lucifer, however, appears entirely unaffected. With a small half step away, he brushes invisible lint off his shoulder, offering a small smirk at the attempt.

"You see in your absence, these two have led some fairly spectacular lives, but this one is undoubtedly my favorite. They're hunters." The word brought a twisted twinkle to his eye, "they hunt our kind and right now we stand on opposite sides of an ever impending war." Lucifer pauses just long enough to raise a finger to gentle trail along your jaw, his expression neutral - contemplative.

"And yet, how utterly easy it would be to make them both bend the knee and beg my forgiveness. To get them to do my bidding. To flay the skin from their bones when I grow tired. To make you watch," He mused, lips curling into a delicate smirk that do nothing but enhance your rage and once again have you testing the chains that bind you.

"I'd wager they'd walk through hell and back a million times over for you… at least they would have. Currently, you're nothing but a meaningless, pretty face, and oh how many other pretty faces there have been." Lucifer drew his fingers back and turned toward the boys. "It would seem you both lack some rather pertinent information about our current situation. This pretty little number is a soulmate. One of yours actually. And I've had her locked away without you even knowing it."

You look toward them quick enough to see both men tense, their skeptical, curious gazes moving to you for a mere fraction of a second before returning to the devil. Smart, you think, terribly unwise to ever look away from Lucifer.

"I'll gladly give her back to you, but it's up to you to figure out who she belongs to. I'll grant you one year with her by your sides to solve the puzzle, and if you don't know by midnight on the final day, I will hunt you down like the dogs you are. I will bring you to this exact spot and you will watch me destroy her once and for all… In exchange for my kindness of time, and granting her to be with you, you will agree to stop hunting me."

"And if we refuse?" You feel a faint flicker of pride as your eyes move to take in the speaker. Shorter hair, green eyes, older, you realized. Brothers. You question how many life times their souls have sought each other out. How many they intermingled as family, or best friends. You even dare to flutter over the question of whether or not they’ve realized there was always a key piece of the puzzle missing..

Fingers yank at your hair, ripping your head back to expose your neck, bringing any previous thought to pause. The perfect view of the sky floats within your vision and you wonder if it’s possible. Could he erase you from existence? But the answer is simple - obvious even. He is Lucifer. If there was a will - and there was - he would have found it. If this was it, if this was your end, you prayed to God there was something after. Something, and someplace where you would happily spend forever with them.

“She’s never been an incredibly talkative one. We tried hell first. You two cracked like eggs, but she hardly blinked. We powerful beings are difficult to destroy, so solitude it was. But she has heard all about you two. Every detail of your lives that might break her. I personally always enjoyed bringing news about a death. Her eyes would always shine with tears - a mix of happiness that I hadn’t gotten a hold of your souls, and a bit of dread for not being apart of that life. I wonder how much more personal it will be to deliver the news to yours faces. What do you think, Y/N? When you bleed, will they shed tears like you did for them?”

There is a soft sting against your neck - a blade that is distinctly recognizable as your own - causing your eyes to flutter softly. Teeth bite down against the fabric in your mouth as you swallow, knowing that if this is the end, that you are grateful you got to seem them one last time.

A soft whimper makes it past your lips - a mingle of fear and pain - as it digs in just enough to draw blood. You can see a flicker of movement, of jaws ticking and an exchange of glances. "Stop. Stop."

It's the same voice from earlier. The tone's changed - it sounds forced, gruff even, but the warning is clear. The chuckle that rumbles behind you is cruel and unforgiving because deep down you both knew. Experience over a millennia had proven that sacrifice meant nothing to any of you if it meant saving someone you cared for. They didn't know you - not like they ought to have - but your significance must have been clear. The pressure against your throat eased before ceasing completely. A hand reaches around the wipe the thin line of blood carefully against the material of your shirt. Despite the obvious threat being gone, it’s clear to everyone it’s still there.

"It would seem we have a deal." With a snap of fingers the shackles around your wrists disappear and you don't hesitate to push yourself to your feet. Despite how weak and wobbly your legs feel, they still manage to propel you the short distance to the two boys. Without much thought, you collide with a solid chest, the air escaping your lungs. The two arms encircling offer you warmth that brings back far too many memories and emotions that you nearly choke. You realize that you're fingers are scrambling to push off the gag because you know Lucifer. There is no way he'd let you go, not without a catch.

"But it would hardly be fair for me to just give you the answer. So until you figure it out and break the curse, her memories are mine… Happy hunting." And with a snap of his fingers, the gag is gone and darkness engulfs you once more.

[atrocitycl]

Critical Discussion: “MAMAMOO’s Use of Blackface: Understanding How Racism is Not a Binary”

“MAMAMOO’s Use of Blackface: Understanding How Racism is Not a Binary”

Posted on March 5, 2017

That said, for where this post will be going, I wish to unfold the current controversy so that everyone truly understands why the situation is a critical one, and more importantly, I wish to address the idea that racism is a “binary.”

Personal Message: Needless to say, I am incredibly shocked and feel both disappointed at MAMAMOO for this incident in the first place, yet I still feel incredibly proud of them for sincerely acknowledging and apologizing for this incident. There is a lot to discuss for this Critical Discussion and indeed, these situations are why I have this type of post: because pop culture tends to tie into social topics—whether intended or not. More importantly, however, when these social-related topics arise, how it is handled is definitely of interest and arguably even telling the current norms and such in place.

With this discussion about MAMAMOO’s recent use of blackface for a concert, I understand it is an incredibly sensitive topic and no matter how one feels—whether one feels “betrayed” by the beloved ladies and is no longer a fan or that one finds that this all miniscule—the purpose of this post is not to necessarily change or neglect how fans currently feel on an emotional level. Every fan’s individual emotional reaction deserves to be respected. That said, for where this post will be going, I wish to unfold the current controversy so that everyone truly understands why the situation is a critical one, and more importantly, I wish to address the idea that racism is a “binary.”

By “racism binary,” I am referring to the unspoken assumption that racism is an “either” situation; either one is racist and a completely awful human being or that one is non-racist and is utterly open to all racial differences. MAMAMOO’s situation provides an excellent example of why this racism binary is false: seldom are people entirely on one end of the spectrum and more often than not, we will find ourselves hovering in the middle. For example, there is a concept of “implicit bias”—biases one has not due to their individual beliefs and actions, but rather biases one accumulates in a society. This applies to race, gender, and every other social aspect. Without getting into the detail of how implicit bias works as that entails a whole separate post, the point is this: for one to claim they are utterly non-racist is unlikely. This is not because of their own actions and beliefs—I very much believe a vast majority of humans try their best to be ethical in the world and thus non-racist—but because societally there are hidden messages spread throughout that can alter one’s thinking on a very subtle level.

To use myself in an honest example as this might make implicit bias more understandable and relatable, as many may know given the plethora of posts that tackle social topics, readers might assume that I genuinely am incredibly open and without biases at all. This, obviously, is false: I am as any normal human—the only difference that I might deserve minimal credit on is the fact that I am open on discussing these sensitive topics in the first place even if at the risk of people then assuming I am no longer “non-racist” and other labels. To share my biggest personal implicit bias with race—though it might be more accurately labeled with “colorism”—it is that I do have a hidden bias that assumes lighter skin complexion is prettier than darker skin complexion. I only discovered this when I found myself thinking that BB creams or simply even lotion with skin-lightening properties are great, and more specifically, when during a summer I found myself very much disliking how tan I was getting and how I “needed”—yes, I thought in that particular language of necessity—to go back to looking quite pale.

These were signs that I had an implicit bias with skin tone, and thankfully I managed to bring and address this on a conscious level—even if, as readers can tell, these are quite disturbing biases to consider especially since I strongly assert that all skin complexions are beautiful—and indeed, this is true as all skin complexions are beautiful regardless of implicit (or explicit) biases one may have. Overall this is all to say I am a human and given my cultural background and how I am constantly watching Korean shows where, indeed, lighter skin is considered more beautiful, I had an implicit bias form that I now am addressing and attempting to correct. The best step, though, is the very act of acknowledging one’s biases and shortcomings despite how uncomfortable this may be. Whether it is with gender, race, sexuality, class, and so forth, addressing one’s biases and admitting to them is crucial even if current times are extremely polarized with these topics. (For example, even my admitting of my wrongful implicit bias on skin tone will very much put me at risk with readers for the very fact that I admit I have this implicit bias. Again, having biases are not bad if one addresses them and corrects them to be more ethical, but many forget this point or are simply uncomfortable with this very admittance in the first place due to risk of then being labeled as “utterly racist and horrible.”)

For another issue with the racism binary, there is the risk of clumping in accidental racism from intentional, malicious racism—even if the former sounds ridiculous. After all, readers might be wondering: “How can one accidentally be racist and offend a specific community? It all has to be intentional.” Unfortunately, racism is much more complex and there are cases where one is simply unaware—“ignorant” if we wish to say, though I dislike this word as it carries a negative connotation—of their actions or in fact even intend to do good but end up unintentionally being racist. I would even argue that this form of racism is the most common form we tend to find today; seldom are people genuinely maliciously trying to be racist, but instead, are accidentally racist—which, again, is still an issue but it requires a different approach than a sincere racist who is simply being a purely unethical person who very much hates on sheer differences.  

A perfect example of “accidental racism” is when fans of K-Pop who are non-Korean claim they “wished they were Korean because they love Korean culture so much.” On an intentional level, these fans are not intending to be racist at all; they genuinely are sharing their openness, care, and respect for another culture and to the degree of which leads to some “envy.” The issue, though, is that these fans are treating Korean culture as a “costume” or an “exotic entity” that one throws around in a fun, objectifying matter. Thus, what they are saying is racist even if unintended. It is not wrong to like K-Pop or Korean culture or any other culture that one does not belong to, but when one uses the language of “wishing to be,” in reality it is offensive on the grounds that they are implying cultures are clothing thrown around to be switched and changed at any moment when that is not quite the case. (Though it should be clarified that one can assimilate into a culture and this is fine; a Japanese individual can move to Korea and assimilate into Korean culture, for example, and this is definitely fine and not objectifying.) As I say, being respectful and open to other cultures is definitely great, but never should an objectifying tone take place.

But without getting too distracted on that topic, the point is this: sometimes people are racist without intending to be, and in these cases—such as in MAMAMOO’s case as we will get to—acknowledging one’s mistake and educating oneself on their shortcoming is what is necessary—and indeed, this is what MAMAMOO is doing. With that, let us discuss MAMAMOO’s use of blackface.

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Context: I will link Soompi’s article regarding this incident as I find that Soompi is oftentimes a reliable English translated source for K-Pop news—and indeed, based on my reading of the article, they seem to have encapsulated much of the current controversy and have even updated the article with RBW Entertainment’s and MAMAMOO’s apologies and reflection. As such, readers can refer to the article for the full context of the current situation. However, what I do wish to discuss is the concept of blackface as unless if one is from the United States, this concept is unfamiliar or even confusing and thus, I wish to explain the historical concept of it and the contemporary take to it.

Blackface is called such as it involves performers quite literally blackening their faces with makeup to appear as if they were Black individuals. Already, we see why this is disturbing: imagine if a non-Asian decided to “dress up and look Asian”—something that is already generalizing and objectifying to the Asian community. Similarly, this is why fashion and makeup tutorials of “How to look [insert race here]” are all disturbing: these tutorials are implying there is an objective look to a community, and that is simply false. Even if this is done towards a “dominant racial group” (by dominant I am connoting “power”; in other words, they are the racially privileged group such as Chinese in China or Whites in the U.S.), it is still incredibly offensive. For example, in Korea, a “How to look Korean” video is as messed up as, in the United States, a “How to look White” video—even if, yes, it is understandable that these would be to poke fun at the racially privileged groups.

But without digressing too far on that, another issue with blackface is oftentimes how grotesque it is—and we have to understand the historical context of blackface for this. In the United States, blackface in the past was used by White performers who would perform as Blacks in oftentimes degrading, exaggerated manners in a way that implied Blacks were inferior to Whites. In other words, Whites would use blackface to pretend to be Blacks in order to create a comical show. Again, this is all quite disturbing and this history is something to bear in mind for MAMAMOO’s controversy and hence why people are greatly upset. In contemporary times, no one of any race should find these atrocious past acts acceptable given how many societies are ethically progressing. (That said, the only contemporary use of blackface is when Blacks themselves use it as a way of getting ownership back. This in of itself is controversial, but the idea behind this to take away blackface as a “For Whites to oppress Blacks” to a now “Blacks are taking back the historical damage and turning blackface into an empowering tool.” Again, I will not discuss this in much depth as I still have minimal knowledge on this history and have no specific stances. For those interested in the idea of “re-owning” oppressive acts, I recommend the story “The Goophered Grapevine” by Charles Chesnutt as it does address this idea. Without spoiling too much, an African American character seemingly uses Black stereotypes established by Whites in an internalized sense, but in reality, one could argue he was using these stereotypes to outwit and prevent Whites from buying his estate and thus was taking oppressive acts and stereotypes and turning them into empowering ones.)

English major nerdiness aside, I hope this all provides context to what MAMAMOO did, and why blackface in a historical sense is incredibly negative and why current uses of it—especially if not by Blacks to “re-own” blackface—can be quite controversial as it carries the roots of historical damage Whites have done towards Blacks in the United States. (And again, given how sensitive this topic is, I highly emphasize historical damage—though obviously current work is still needed in the United States for race. Point is, I wish to emphasize the historical point as I do not wish readers who are White to feel “responsible” per se; yes, Whites in the United States have racial privilege and thus are responsible on this end and understanding their racial privilege, but never should Whites be bashed specifically for creating blackface when it is a historical piece. But, even my stance on this is controversial though I argue it is the most humane and balanced view versus the extreme ends that claim “Whites should take no responsibility at all for the past” and “Whites are entirely responsible and need to pay for the past.” Again, there is a responsibility of racial privilege in current times, but it should not extend all the way to the past.)

Let us now discuss MAMAMOO in specific and see how we, as fans of the ladies (or even K-Pop in general), continue on from this incident.

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Analysis: Since I already addressed the “racism binary” and why there are issues with it, I wish to hone in on the concept of “unintentional racism” as I argue this is the case with MAMAMOO. I strongly doubt MAMAMOO and RBW Entertainment were intending to mock a specific community; rather, it is likely they were trying to very much get into their performance and truly immerse themselves via appearance as they were covering American pop artist Bruno Mars’s music video. While I have not seen the actual footage yet, knowing the ladies I bet their performance was very much simply covering the song in perhaps an upbeat, fun manner. Was race the complete reason with why they were using blackface? Not necessarily as, again, they were most likely focused on the music and not attempting to mock a community at all. But, this does not mean they are free from responsibility; they had good intentions but still ended up using blackface—a highly derogatory, negative act. So what do we make of this?

For one, fans need to stop using the racism binary with now automatically equating MAMAMOO as “racist” and evil women. If anything, this might be the worst idea given that MAMAMOO, from admittedly my biased perspective as a fan, is one of the more aware K-Pop groups of their international fans. Furthermore, the ladies and their label company tend to be more “open”—and more so if we bear in mind many Asian countries are still “conservative.” For example, MAMAMOO very much desires to release songs that empower women (and hence the extremely high ratio that favors female to male fans for MAMAMOO) and with having a song that explores the idea of gender as a performance—the iconic “Um Oh Ah Yeah” music video—I find it quite disappointing that fans are turning away from MAMAMOO with ideas of “they have only been racist this whole time” and such. Now this is not to excuse their actions, but indeed, we need to realize that a quick label of “MAMAMOO is racist” gets no one anywhere—and this applies for everything besides just MAMAMOO.

(On a personal note, I hate the terms of “liberal” and “conservative” that I have to connote here and more so if it ties into politics which I never will discuss on this blog; I find these terms absolutely silly as seldom are people in one category. For example, while I consider myself socially ethical as my social views are based ethics and not so much politics or whatever else, I am easily still labeled as “liberal” in this regard. However, I find that this one label is insufficient as I know for sure I have and do strongly abide to specific “conservative” beliefs. For example, I am highly against “hookup culture”—the idea of essentially casual sexual intercourse—as I have my own beliefs about sex that are, obviously, “conservative.” And to my surprise, sharing this personal view of mine was utterly shocking and somewhat appalling to a class and this was when I discovered there are so many issues with these labels. So, on one hand I am “liberal” and yet “conservative” on the other and this simple example is why I dislike those binary labels.)

And so, while fans need to stop bashing MAMAMOO with labeling them as racist, we still need to understand that their usage of blackface is still inappropriate. Fans who are offended and upset are right to feel this way, and that is because even if MAMAMOO was unintentional with this racist-based act, it still is racist. Thankfully, MAMAMOO and RBW Entertainment have acknowledged this and are educating themselves on why blackface is inappropriate—the very fact that they have done this acknowledgement is a testament to that fact that they do care (and equally openly mentioning that they wish to include fans of all race, gender, sexuality, and so forth). Also to bear in mind is that with South Korea being a rather homogenous society, blackface is perhaps a foreign concept to them—no pun intended on “foreign.” Thus, the social and racial implications were perhaps something MAMAMOO and their company were completely unaware of. But as said, they are not to be excused and this is also something I urge fans to be aware of. While fans should not go to the extreme of bashing MAMAMOO as racist, neither should fans let this incident disappear or minimize their use of blackface as something forgettable.

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Conclusion: Where does this all take us now? For one, this incident reminds us all that racism still needs to be addressed in a sociological sense—that the racism binary is false and needs to go away if further progress is to be made. Racism is not an “either” situation as said, and until that binary goes away, it will be difficult to ever deal with racism in an upfront manner. After all, what do we glean from discussions that merely go “MAMAMOO is racist, go away” or “MAMAMOO is not racist and are perfect; you all are overreacting”? Nothing. To quite literally quote my sociology professor, “Racism is like smog; we can’t find who is responsible but we all are responsible for cleaning it up.” This is incredibly true for not just MAMAMOO’s situation, but for discussions of racism everywhere. Instead of using racism as a labeling game, fans and MAMAMOO need to instead directly address racism as a concept. This means addressing implicit biases, acknowledging mistakes, and ultimately striving to become a more open, compassionate, ethical, better human being.

All in all, what MAMAMOO did was incredibly wrong and was racist, but fans need to understand they never intended to be malicious and racist. Nevertheless, acknowledging of their unintentionally racism has to occur, and furthermore, the need to understand why blackface is racist is crucial. What is most amazing to me, though, is the fact that MAMAMOO and RBW Entertainment have done so: They have acknowledged their use of blackface is racist and offensive, and they are educating themselves on why blackface is wrong and on how to prevent future incidents like these from occurring. This growth not as MAMAMOO but simply as four women trying to do better for others is what needs to be cherished most. Although I oftentimes hold MAMAMOO as an example of how all artists should be, I personally find that their acknowledgement and strive towards improvement with their racist blunder to further prove that point. This is how one addresses racism and makes progress—not by denying that it was not racist, not caring, or doing whatever they can to assure others “I am not racist.” Instead, acknowledging their mistake and then working to educate themselves so that they are more socially aware and inclusive is what needs to occur.

As for fans, the same should occur but in regards to removing the racism binary: fans need to understand and educate themselves on the racism binary, on why MAMAMOO and RBW Entertainment thought blackface was fine (in other words, understanding South Korea’s situation with being a homogenous society), and ultimately, fans need to realize how to be respectful yet still assertive with openly calling out their beloved idols. To the fans—both Korean and international—who did not hesitate to critique MAMAMOO’s actions but did so in a respectful, calm manner, huge credit to them.

While I hope these incidents become far and few in the future of K-Pop, I also hope growth occurs for everyone. Remember: racism is smog; let us stop playing the blaming and labeling binary game, and let us instead all work together—regardless of our own race—towards a future where race can be discussed in a respectful, open manner. Then, perhaps, in the future racism in of itself will disappear—or at least, discussions can occur and growth will be encouraged and that no one will be automatically bashed as “racist and evil.”

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Given how controversial this topic is, I assume this post will not render entirely well with everyone. With MAMAMOO’s situation, as said, how one feels will ultimately be their decision—though I urge that it is based in critical thinking. Certainly the racism binary needs to be challenged, but even that can be controversial as some do strongly believe that one is either entirely non-racist or one is entirely racist. No matter one’s stances, I simply assert the idea that we need to all be open and respectful of our various views. Through discussion and maturity will actual progress be made. For me, I remain a fan of MAMAMOO and to me despite this incident, they are still my role models—in fact, perhaps even more so as how they are handling the situation with acknowledging their mistakes and striving for improvement is truly admirable (even if what they did was not so). However, even if one is no longer a fan, this is understandable and needs to be respected.

All in all, I hope this post provides some deeper insight to the situation especially in a sociological lens and for those who find this post relevant for its discussion, I do encourage sharing this around. Ultimately, readers will have to decide on what they think though in a respectful, thoughtful manner.

Regarding upcoming reviews, BTS’ “Spring Day” will be out in a few more days, and afterwards TWICE’s  “Knock Knock” will have a relatively thorough review. After that I have a request for HIGH4’s “Love Line,” and from there we will see where the remaining posts take us.

[oathkeptroxas]

I loved your story on dean & laurel but I'm curious what's your take on those who say that Laurel is a gender-swapped version of Dean? If you agree I would love to get your take on the similarities between Laurel and Dean it's the only similarity I can think of is they are the oldest sibling.

Thanks so much for reading it!! :)

I don’t necessarily agree with referring to Laurel as ‘gender-swapped’ Dean because a) I don’t like that term and it’s implications that there are only 2, binary genders, and b) I feel it discredits Laurel’s individual development and dismisses her as ‘oh a female equivalent of something that’s already been done’.

However, there are a TON of parallels between these two that I believe would make them able to understand each other so well! There’s a difference between a similarity/parallel/comparison and ‘they are the same’.

Though Laurel and Dean are of course both older siblings, that’s not a similarity, that’s a narrative fact, a way in which they are the same. It’s the dynamics with their siblings and their individual personalities in how they deal with them that matter.

Dean would do anything for Sam. He’s sacrificed his life for Sam multiple times, Dean is willing to die for Sam at any given moment, no questions asked. When Sam died Dean did what he had to in order to get him back, consequences be damned. He gave up his childhood so that he could dedicate himself to preserving what was left of Sam’s. Keeping Sam safe is his priority.

Keeping Sara safe growing up was Laurel’s priority. Sara was free-spirited, a rule breaker. Laurel did things by the book, was studying to be a lawyer. Sara was prone to getting herself into trouble, Laurel got her out of it. When Sara died Laurel did whatever she could to bring her back, consequences be damned, no questions asked. 

Both Sam and Sara took their older siblings for granted.

Now, in Sam’s case it’s more than forgivable. Dean felt betrayed/deserted by Sam when he left for college, Dean just wanted his family to stay together and hated being alone. However, it’s necessary and healthy to put yourself first sometimes. Sam removed himself from a toxic environment and took the chance to better his life. Yes, it hurt Dean. But it was necessary for Sam’s well-being, even if Dean didn’t understand. Sam may have been far too young when all this started to realize how much Dean gave up for him, and even as the series goes on Sam learns new things about their childhood that allow him to appreciate Dean a little better. Sam’s ‘betrayal’ of Dean is justified and forgivable and not really a betrayal at all (though it felt like one to Dean).

Sara resented Laurel. When Sara told Oliver about how Laurel shut down that party Sara went to and then Sara got grounded and then Oliver and Laurel were dating and Sara said that Laurel only did that to be spiteful and steal Sara’s chance with him. That’s so fucking immature and short sighted?? And totally out of character for Laurel. Now, if you remove Oliver from the equation, Laurel’s actions would have been the same? Her underage sister was lying to her parents, going to a party with older boys where unknown substances were being passed around. Of course Laurel got it shut down? She was being responsible. The fact that Sara made that about a boy because she was jealous is absurd. Laurel had Sara’s best interests at heart and Sara dismissed her as being spiteful. She thought ‘Laurel doesn’t want me to have fun or be happy’, Laurel thought ‘My little sister is putting herself in dangerous situations with people taking advantage of her’.

Laurel and Oliver and Tommy were friends their whole lives. They grew up together. Laurel and Oliver were essentially childhood sweethearts. I’m an older sibling. I know younger siblings follow you around like imprinted ducklings and think that hanging out with the ‘big kids’ makes them cool. Younger siblings having puppy love crushes on their older siblings’ friends is common af. Thea had one on Tommy. So, any ‘feelings’ that Laurel may or may not have known Sara had for Oliver, she could have easily written off as just that? There was no malicious intent on Laurel’s end. Yet, Sara betrayed her by sleeping with her boyfriend to prove a point? And then when Sara returned she started sleeping with Oliver again before she had worked to build the bridges between her family, and then invited Oliver to a family dinner at Laurel’s home when she knew Laurel was going through a hard time? 

Now, Dean and Laurel also had similar dynamics with their fathers. John neglected/abused Dean, he took him for granted and made Dean shoulder the weight of his responsibilities. John even acknowledged ‘you shouldn’t have had to do that, it should have been me saying that to you’. Due to the circumstances, Dean was conditioned to believe that Sam’s well-being was his responsibility, and anything that happened to Sam was immediately his fault.

Laurel’s father emotionally abused her and her mother neglected her because they couldn’t handle the fact that Sara was gone. So, Laurel, not being given the chance to grieve her sister and boyfriend (who died whilst fucking behind her back) then got deserted by one parent and mistreated by another. Laurel became Quentin’s carer through his alcoholism and shouldered his responsibilities, despite her own trauma. Quentin even said ‘she was my rock’ because he used Laurel as a emotional crutch and leaned on her constantly whilst offering her constant criticism for her choices. He blamed Oliver for what happened to his family, and in a way blamed Laurel by association, because if it wasn’t for her relationship with him, Oliver wouldn’t have been in the Lance’s lives.

Alcoholism is another comparison. Alcohol is a huge coping mechanism for Dean. We see him wake from nightmares and immediately reach for a bottle, regardless of what time of day it is. Dean is drinking beer or whiskey in almost every episode. It helps him deal with his trauma. It’s not healthy but he’s dependent on it. Despite this dependency though, Dean is a high-functioning alcoholic, in the sense that his addiction does not hinder his ability to live his life and do what he needs to.

Laurel’s alcoholism hit her harder. She was never a big drinker, she didn’t even drink socially very often and not excessively. She went from 0-100. And with an alcoholic father (addictive personalities and substance dependencies can be hereditary) it was almost inevitable that she would become dependent, and that it would become a vice. She couldn’t control it, whereas Dean was able to control his to the point where, though he drank a lot, he did so to cope. Laurel started drowning her sorrows only for it to overrun her entire life, she lost control. Dean’s experiences with the mark of Cain and the first blade are a prime example of an addiction gone wild. Both Dean and Laurel have addictive personalities. This is also shown in their steadfast determination in doing whatever they can to reach an end they’ve set themselves.

Dean saw Charlie as an adoptive sister, they had a lot in common, he loved spending time with her and Dean is a big believer in finding and building a family. Laurel was exactly the same with Thea. Laurel was there for Thea more than Oliver was.

Dean uses meaningless sex as a coping mechanism for his trauma, his lifestyle doesn’t afford him the opportunity to commit. Yet, despite this, Dean has never forgotten the name of any of his one night stands. Dean wanted to build a relationship with Cassie Robinson, she was the first person he came clean about his life to. It was Cassie who turned him down, she knew they would grow to resent each other if they pursued something long distance and didn’t want that for them or herself. Dean was so enamored by Lisa Braeden after their weekend long fling literally years prior, that when he was given a year to live and found himself in her hometown one day, he tracked her down. He thought he was on borrowed time and didn’t want the opportunity to see her again to pass him by. When he found out she had a kid, he was shocked but not in any way upset that child could be his, was even disappointed when Ben wasn’t. He left them without attempting to pursue anything because at the time he believed he was going to die and didn’t want to allow Lisa and her son to become attached to him because he wouldn’t be around much longer. Dean had recurring dreams about a life with Lisa where he adopted Ben.

Laurel (as far as we know in canon) has only ever dated two men: Oliver and Tommy. Two boys that she grew up with and knew her whole life and trusted implicitly. We don’t know how exactly Tommy and Laurel first hooked up, but we know that during the time Oliver was gone it was strictly casual. It was more than likely a coping mechanism, they trusted each other, they comforted each other over the fact that they’d both lost Oliver and one thing led to another. She took comfort from someone who knew what she was going through instead of finding meaningless sex elsewhere. We see in flashbacks how Laurel had planned her and Oliver’s lives together and imagined getting married, how she told Oliver she wanted to move in together. Both Laurel and Dean are ‘all or nothing’ types. They are able, and often want to, commit. They love with every part of themselves, but sometimes other things just get in the way.

Which leads me to my next comparison, perhaps the most important one: Dean and Laurel are both loyal to a fault. They have forgiven people who never deserved it countless times. They’ve always put the well-being of others before themselves. They’ve been walked over and disregarded by people they loved yet they can’t help but still love them. Their sense of loyalty and family is unfaltering, even at the detriment of themselves. And despite this, they fight to keep the people they have and they don’t think they are deserving of the love they receive. Dean once said “sooner or later everybody’s gonna leave me.” Laurel once said “What is so wrong with me that everybody leaves?” They both fear abandonment because the people they devoted themselves to never showed that loyalty in return. 

These two would honestly be perfect for each other because their beliefs are cemented in the same ideals. I think they’d have an incredible dynamic and they’d understand each other so well. I’m sure there are things that I’m forgetting but this got long as hell and this is just the big ones that jump out at me. I’m sure @laurelwinchester would know more about this :)

[aebadon-blog]

Blog Post 4

I noticed that the messages between my parents and I are all confirming messages. I am very lucky to have really never experienced any of the disconfirming or disagreeing messages that we talked about in class. My parents are I are very endorsing. They show up to everything of mine and are very supportive overall. Now that does not mean we never argue or get in disagreements, but it is not toxic at all. Occasionally we experience some argumentativeness between us but usually it is in a more positive way. I feel comfortable sharing my beliefs with my parents even if it differs from theirs, so we get in some arguments over things. It usually ends in us all understanding each other’s points of view and learning from each other. Like I said though, my parents generally agree with my thoughts and feelings about things because they do care about wat I think and value my opinions. My younger brother and I have been in a rockier relationship. When we were both in high school, we were both very aggressive to each other. We were really mean to each other and criticized everything each other did and said. Now that we are both older things have gotten a lot better. Even though I do not live to far from campus, I do not go home that often because I am so busy. My brother still lives at home, so I do not see him that much. My parents have come to visit me a lot during the last four years to either come to my volleyball games or to take me to dinner and my brother never used to come to them. Now that I’m in my senior year he came to a few of my games during the season. The last few times my parents have taken me to dinner he has come with which shocked me. So, I think my brother is starting to acknowledge me lately and we do not argue maliciously anymore.

I try my best not to engage in conflict. I know it is natural and beneficial for relationships. I am not saying I never fight with people, but I generally try to avoid it if I can. I mentioned in class before that I am mad at one of my friends for several reasons, but she has no idea. So obviously this is not an actual conflict considering I have not actually told her I am mad at her. It seems like she might have some idea because we used to talk all the time and now, we never do. In this case, I am mostly avoiding this situation. I really do not like confrontation, especially with people who are or have been my good friends. If I do ever get in an argument with someone or we have some sort of conflict I am always accommodating. I always do what other people want because I usually can handle whatever the loss is for me. I just mostly let people have whatever they want and deal with the aftermath of it. I do not like telling people what I want because I feel bad when it is not what the other person wants. I hate letting people down, so I just continuously push whatever I want aside. I see it as a sacrifice. I am sacrificing what I want to make others happy. I never thought it was necessarily a bad thing, but after talking about it in class I see how this is very problematic. I have no negative intent behind being a more accommodating person. However, it is still hurting me in the long run because I am not voicing how I feel or what I want. I am letting people take advantage of me and walk all over me. I need to try to stand up for myself and put my foot down more about what I want.

There is one conflict I have been in recently that I think can tie in a lot of the concepts we’ve talked about. All four years of college I had two best friends and we have basically always lived together. This year one of them got in a new relationship. She never had been in one before, so it was all very new for her. She’s very immature but we were still happy for her and her new relationship. She started to change a lot though, she never hung out with us anymore, she basically moved out of our room, she never asked to eat lunch or dinner anymore, and she basically disappeared. My other friends’ birthday was in October right when all of this started happening. We went to brunch in the morning and the entire time she was complaining because she did not want to be there and wanted to be at her boyfriend’s scrimmage game when she had already been to 3 that morning and he doesn’t even play anyway. Then we were going to come early to help set up for the party and she said she would be there for us. She ended up showing up 3 hours late and only stayed for 30 minutes and told us she would come out to the bars with us and then never showed up and didn’t tell us. So, we were upset about that because it wasn’t just any other day it was one of her supposed best friends’ birthdays. We were all civil for a couple months, but it wasn’t until my birthday in December that I was really done. My other friend had already kind of cut her off. I was still trying to talk to her and be civil. It was all really one sided because I was the only one making a real effort. I invited her to my birthday dinner. I played volleyball with her so I also invited other volleyball girls thinking she would at least talk to them if she didn’t talk to me or our other friend. To my surprise she agreed to go so I thought maybe this would be her chance at coming back. She showed up to the dinner late, sat at the end of the table and did not talk to anyone the entire time. I was so upset, I finally realized maybe I should just stop trying. It made me so upset because it was our senior year and she was missing out on everything we were doing. She was my first best friend at college, and she was treating me poorly. I was also letting her treat me that way so that’s why I decided to basically cut it off. Every time I saw her after that she would ignore me. I tried to say hi and she would say nothing. Any time she walked in the room and I was in the living room the environment would be immediate hostile. She was engaging in a lot of contempt. She would never say anything, but she would be very rude, ignore me, or roll her eyes. We were both kind of avoiding the situation because we never talked about. I never told her how I felt but I was tired of being so heartbroken over the loss of that friendship. I could have kept trying, I could have reached out more, but it was just becoming more and more toxic that I thought it was better to just let it go. It does suck, I miss all our good times, but I do not miss how rude she was sometimes and how upset she used to make me feel. We also both coach volleyball at the same club. To my surprise it is pretty civil at work, the second we leave the building she’s back to being hostile. I think she thought I would come back like I have every time before. I broke our conflict ritual. She would always get mad at me or be rude to be and then we wouldn’t talk for a few days and I finally would talk to her again and ask her why she was so mean to me and then she would tell me all the reasons I was a bad person and the I would apologize and wed be fine until it happened again. This time I never came back, and she’s never once apologized for anything she has ever done. I feel bad for her because she only has her boyfriend now. They seem really happy and I am really happy for her, but she doesn’t talk to her best friends anymore. No one, not me or my roommate, her teammates, no one. I don’t know what would ever happen if her and her boyfriend broke up.

[sarahburness]

How 5 Simple Habits Made Me Love My Life More

“Good habits are worth being fanatical about.” ~John Irving

Your habits are directly related to the quality of your life. Good habits lead to joy and fulfillment in your life, while not-so-good habits leave you yearning for your life to be different.

I think I always knew that, I just wished I took it to heart sooner. Better late than never, right?

Gretchen Rubin, author of Better Than Before: What I Learned About Making and Breaking Habits, says that “Habits are the invisible architecture of our daily life. We repeat about 40 percent of our behavior almost daily, so our habits shape our existence, and our future. If we change our habits, we change our lives.”

I’ve spent far too much time in my life languishing in worries and regrets, wondering why life had to be so hard. I looked for outside sources to come in and save me. No rescuer ever came, at least not one that made a permanent difference.

I’d always wind up on the same boat: wondering why others seemed so content with the lives they were leading while I continued to have a burning desire for something different—something I really couldn’t even name, though I tried in vain to do so.

I set big goals and made big plans that I was certain would make all the difference for me. Usually, my big goals and big plans wouldn’t live beyond the next new moon. Even when they did, though, the things that I thought would make me happy didn’t. The things that I thought would bring me peace only annoyed me for their utter lack of peace-creating properties.

By profession, I’m a strategist. I look at all the many things that contribute to situations being a certain way and explore ways to move the situation toward where I want it to be. Turns out, sometimes you don’t have to overhaul anything; sometimes, small, simple tweaks can make a big difference.

As the saying goes, it takes large sails to move a large ship, but the captain need only make a small adjustment to the rudder to change the direction. The other part of the saying is there’s no point in adjusting the rudder if the ship is not moving; you won’t go anywhere.

Your daily habits are the small rudders hat can help you move your life in the direction you wish. Choosing good habits day after day is the movement required to experience the positive life changes you’re seeking.

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person, but what I neglected to see in my own life is that the smallest tweaks done day in and day out have the power to move the mountains I want moved. When my eyes opened to the power of small changes practiced daily, miracles began to unfold in my life.

Below are some of the simple daily habits I’ve worked to incorporate into my life that are making such a huge difference for me.

1. Meditation

Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone says meditate, but did you ever consider that maybe all those meditation-lovers are offering an you an insider’s tip (pun intended) that in fact is actually priceless?

I have an overactive mind, as many people do. It loves to tell me about all its worries and warn me of threats that in reality aren’t all that threatening—nothing more than a mouse posing as a monster most of the time.

My mind loves to relive situations and conversations over and over and over; it’s so tiring! I’ve found that the antidote to my endless chattering mind is daily meditation.

I don’t do anything complicated. I just sit in a relaxing position, tune into serene instrumental music on Spotify, and focus on my breath. Anytime I notice that my mind is wandering (as it always does), I return my focus to my breath. In times of silence answers seem to arrive to incredibly insightful questions I didn’t even know I should ask.

2. Kind, loving self-talk

In the past, my inner dialogue wasn’t all that friendly. In fact, I was my own worst enemy, a relentless bully whose malicious words would leave me disheartened and unable to face the world with any sense of self-worth or confidence.

I didn’t come by this demeaning self-talk accidentally. Its roots go back to my childhood.

I grew up in a Roman Catholic home with seven children (another sibling died before I was born) and two overworked, exhausted parents who were flat broke all the time.

My father struggled with alcohol addiction and mental illness. This, along with my mother’s enabling patterns plus her own low self-esteem and depression issues, defined how the house was run.

The focus of the entire household was on managing life around dad’s issues.

Growing up, it seemed to me that nothing I ever did was good enough for my dad, though I tried so very hard to please him. I craved his love and positive attention. He either ignored me or criticized me, and when he criticized me he often did so in the most brutal tone.

I took to adopting that brutal tone in my inner dialogue and kept up the cruel inner monologues for years and years. I rationalized that I was just keeping my standards high, because who wouldn’t want to have high standards, right? A father would only criticize his daughter to help her improve, right?

So I kept criticizing myself; it never occurred to me that dad lashed out at me because his whole life seemed like a mess, so by God, the one thing he would have control over was his children.

There I was as an adult, using unrelenting, vicious self-criticism as a way to be perfect so I could get the love and attention I sorely wanted from the people in my life. It was a strategy that was never going to work; it had to go.

After examining my bitter, demeaning inner voice, I realized that I would never treat another human being this way, so why was I permitting this type of untenable talk go on inside me? I deserve better—we all do!

Now when those critical thoughts come up I’m patient with myself without buying into the scolding voice that’s offering up the hypercritical self-assessments.

I look at the scared girl behind those ugly comments and extend my deepest love to her. You see, while I refuse to allow my inner critic to talk to me in vile ways anymore, I also recognize the only reason I ever talked to myself that way was out of a deep need for belonging and protection. There was a call for love behind those ugly words, and now I simply acknowledge that deep desire for self-love without chastising the hurting girl who was trying to get my attention in the only way she knew how.

3. Follow the five-second rule

I love Mel Robbins, and the day I learned about her five-second rule was a very important day in my life. (And I’m not talking whether it’s still safe to eat food that’s only had five seconds of contact on the floor—that’s a whole different discussion!)

In a nutshell, here is Mel Robbins’ five-second rule, in Mel’s words: “The moment you have an instinct to act on a goal you must count five-four-three-two-one and physically move or your brain will stop you.”

So, you’re not a “morning person” but you have a goal of getting up earlier in the morning? Then the moment your alarm clock goes off, count five-four-three-two-one and jump out of bed. No more hitting the snooze alarm.

Yes, in the moment of those early morning hours, of course you’d rather stay in that warm comfy bed—who wouldn’t? But staying in bed doesn’t align with your bigger goals, and getting up does. If you move within five seconds, you’ll move toward your bigger goals. If you don’t move and allow your clever mind to talk you into staying in bed for “just a bit more,” you’re sunk.

If you want to change your life by getting up earlier so you can write that blog you want to write (a-hem, what I’m doing now) or do that exercise you know your body needs, then make those goals your priority over an extra thirty minutes of sleep and use the five-second rule to help you get your body out of bed.

Adopting the five-second rule is one of the best habits I’ve ever taken up. For the sake of full transparency, I admit I’m not always successful at sticking to the rule, but the more I try, the more I succeed.

“If your habits don’t line up with your dream, then you need to either change your habits or change your dream.” ~John Maxwell

4. Feed my mind

I’ve always considered myself to be a learner, though in actuality I get lazy about learning. It’s hard to improve your life if you’re never giving your brain any new information. Feeding my mind on a regular basis has become a top priority for me.

My “feeding my mind” goal looks something like this: one retreat a year, one book a month (that I can either read or listen via audio), one podcast a week, and one smart article on something I want to learn about each and every day. I’ve found that starting the process builds momentum; I often crush my minimum goals!

Feeding my mind in healthy ways also means giving up some unhealthy habits. I’m extremely careful about how much news I watch nowadays. While I don’t want to keep my head in the sand, I find it’s important to limit the number of negative messages I allow into my mind, and news channels are notorious for going over the same disturbing stories again and again. I make time in my days for my extra reading and personal growth activities by getting up earlier and limiting my Netflix and HBO time.

I’ve also modified my budget so I can afford the audiobooks and retreats I want to buy. My clothing and dining out budget is about half of what it used to be, and it’s a trade-off I’m happy to make.

The habit of feeding my mind is opening up whole new worlds for me. I can’t tell you how often I’ve read about something and the perfect opportunity comes up for using what I’ve learned in both my professional and personal life. Louis Pasteur said, “Fortune favors the prepared mind,” and I couldn’t agree more!

5. Do something outside my comfort zone at least once a week

If I were a more ambitious soul, I might put a “once a day” rule on this habit, but for now once a week works nicely for me. The habit of doing the same things the same way every day is life draining, while the habit of stretching outside your comfort zone regularly is life expanding. I’d rather see my life expand rather than to contract and shrivel, thank you very much.

Today, I regularly practice being brave—allowing myself to be seen, allowing myself to be vulnerable and unskilled at new things. I don’t tiptoe outside my comfort zone anymore; I’m even willing to take huge leaps.

I quit a job that I’d been in for twenty-two years without having the next job lined up. I moved 2000 miles from family and friends to live in a beautiful part of the world where I’ve always dreamed of living.

I now work in freelance, consulting, and coaching roles, which means my income fluctuates a lot. I’m not always certain how much money I’ll earn each month; I could have never tolerated that degree of uncertainty before.

It’s surprising how much your life can transform in miraculous ways once you’re willing to not be perfect in your own little world but instead actively choose to be imperfect in a world that might judge you.

When you take risks that might leave you flat on your back, but also might enable you to soar. I’ve found that bravery is rewarded, maybe not always in the moment, but always in time. I encourage you to be brave; it’ll change your life!

About Janette Novak

Janette a confidence coach and the founder of Believe And Create, BelieveAndCreate.com, a personal development initiative that helps people believe in themselves more fully and create lives that they love.  Janette also owns Illuminate Marketing Communications IlluminateMarCom, a digital marketing agency that specializes in content marketing.  She lives in Flagstaff, AZ.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-5-simple-habits-made-me-love-my-life-more/

[elizas-writing]

Movie Reviews: Detroit

Well... there was a lot that just happened. Oh, it’s still a good movie. But something kinda rubbed me wrong, and I had to do a bit of my own research before just diving in blindly, especially as a white viewer. Is it still worth it even with the problems? Let’s find out.

From the same filmmakers who brought The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, we have another period drama set during the 12th Street Riot of July 1967. With racial tensions high, they boil over in Detroit after an unlicensed bar was raided by the police, and observers began looting and destroying buildings to voice their frustration from years of inequality and mistreatment from the notoriously racist police department. This escalates to the Algiers Motel incident where in response to an alleged sniper, the police beat up and terrorized about a dozen black male teenagers, and three of them were shot and killed by the police. However, the officers responsible were let off free for claims of “self-defense,” leaving a bitter ending of unresolved racial tensions in the United States.

Let’s start off easy. How is Detroit from a filmmaking standpoint?

There’s no doubt that Kathryn Bigelow and Mark Boal are a great duo in historical dramas, especially when tackling the dark sides of history. They set the stage with a little background of black migration to the North in a brief but wonderfully animated opening segment. The film feels like a documentary at first with a series of vignette-like scenes tied in with actual footage, news clips and photos from the riot. It all seems unconnected until they start focusing on certain figures who later play a part in the Algiers Motel incident.

There’s a tense atmosphere throughout the entire film. Even in scenes where people are partying and relaxing, you’re always on edge that at any moment, someone will die or they’ll cut away to an incredibly violent scene. You can almost feel the constant fear the black characters have when police are around every corner. The uneasiness lingers long after the incident as it moves to trial and the lawyers and witnesses go back and forth, and you remember this movie isn’t going to have a happy ending where justice prevails.

So far it seems like a good movie, but how does it present the subject matter of police brutality, especially with how much the events parallel present day cases from Mike Brown to Philando Castile?

While the story flows well enough, the historical facts presented are very questionable. I didn’t know about the Algiers Motel incident until this movie, but from what I could gather from other articles, there are some inaccuracies here and there. In his criticism of the movie on Salon, Frank Joyce points out it was never confirmed if anyone had a starter pistol as it was never found at the scene. So when Carl is shown shooting out the window, it sets up a reason for the cops to search and “cast doubt on the innocence of the victims” even though claims of snipers throughout the riots were completely false. They were also shown drinking and smoking marijuana in a party earlier, but autopsies showed that none of the victims had any substances in their system.

Joyce also notes that many of the victims, who were teenagers at the time, are miscast by far too old actors, which doesn’t help that many people often overestimate the ages of black boys as if they are not as child-like as white boys. Even Robert Greene, who was 26 at the time, is still depicted by an actor who’s over 10 years older. That’s not to discredit the talent for this movie; they play their parts well, but it makes no sense to depict these people far older than they were.

Granted, the film does acknowledge that it is a dramatization based on whatever documents or witness accounts they could obtain, but it also begs the question to what they had and if they twisted anything, even if it was unintentional. This is upped by the fact that it is two white filmmakers telling a black American story, and many argue this is inappropriate. Part of me wants to give the benefit of the doubt and believe there was no malicious intent, but I can’t help but be wary. This is mostly exemplified by the actual incident as portrayed in the film.

If you do plan to see Detroit, then you’ll need serious mental preparation. I’m not even kidding, it’s a scene that goes on for about forty minutes. I almost looked at my phone cause I was wondering when it was going to end. This is where many say it’s exploitative of black violence and is just torture porn.

On one hand, yes this is actual history which shouldn’t be sugarcoated. And sometimes this exposure is necessary to understand just how out of control something like police brutality is, and I appreciate they show how hypocritical these cops are. But good God, it’s forty minutes! I know they’re trying to present as much information as possible, but after a while, we get the picture. You really don’t need to drag this out for longer than necessary. We see this violence enough in dozens upon dozens of Facebook videos every other week. If someone at the end of that scene still doesn’t get the picture on police brutality, I don’t know what else to say.

The biggest shortcoming of the film is that it fails to start a dialogue. It doesn’t have anything else to say except “Look at all this violence, and all the bad people who got away with it. We’re going to make you feel as awful as possible.” Yes, these scenes of violence should leave an emotional impact, and it does so far too well, but what then? What are we supposed to do to speak out against police brutality? How does this affect our world in 2017? Why does it matter fifty years later? How can we help?

You can tell that it was not only made by white people, but also made for white people to just do the bare minimum and present history as is. Even for the shortcomings of films like The Help or Hidden Figures, they at least tried to present what white people can do to help make society better for black people. Detroit just shows the violence for for the sake of violence for two and a half hours and then it ends. It missed out on opportunities to show how the city picked up the pieces in the aftermath, how the riot played a part of the Civil Rights era, and how it connects to cases like Mike Brown in the present day. Now that I think about it, it’s really disappointing.

While the presentation is well done and the emotional impact and tone are strong throughout, Detroit suffers from a few questionable choices in the facts it shows. At best, it’s okay and still holds up, but at worst, it’s just torture porn and a missed opportunity to start a dialogue. I’m glad I still saw it because it’s a part of history I didn’t know about, but I was left wanting more. If you’re curious, it is the kind of film where you do have to decide for yourself if it’s worth your while, but definitely tread with caution and take what you see with a grain of salt.

[racialanxietiesandtheories]

Sexist jealousy, racism, or both?

Now, as a disclaimer, I want to point out that I don’t want to come across as conceited/full of myself, but I am acknowledge that I’m an objectively attractive woman of color. I recognize the privileges that come with attractiveness but, speaking from my own experience, unless you blend in with the rest of the attractive crowd of color and their culture comfortably and don’t feel a need to be what’s considered to be “weird” or, in other words, too authentic, carefree, and true to yourself, then it can be significantly hard to navigate the world because many people will be more critical of you and the selective crowd may not welcome you and your eccentricity with open arms. But some people have the need for authenticity engrained in their biological brain and personality (aka me), to the point where it tears you apart inside not being able to align yourself to what you really are. In those cases, attractive people of color have a much harder time than attractive white people since, by being themselves and not conforming to behave just like the popular group, it’s like rejecting the ultimate opportunity to be part of an exclusive elite amongst a minority that needs strength in numbers and thus, more conformity.

I was able to figure this out very late in my life as this was one of the reasons I was “bullied” (more like frenemied by teasing me mercilessly and gossiping tales about me at certain points and in others, when they need help at school and I would help them or they’d compliment my style and talk about boys and other superficial girl talk) about me) by the pretty girls that I wanted to befriend but certain eccentricities (most of which I had very little control over because they had to do with the cultish, complicated way I was raised) were too much for them to accept within their circles.

I understand why some people think that attractive people have much easier lives but I’d argue that maybe it is for white people or even lighter-skinned minorities in general because they don’t have ethnicity issues getting in their way (the same can be argued for with attractive men and women, in which attractive men have more freedom to be themselves). But for ethnic women, it gets annoying because you’re consistently fetishized and you feel the societal compulsion to conform with your specified “elite” group and have very little room for freedom to explore your eccentric self and interests. So I think in that sense, they have a harder time than more average looking people, and maybe even ugly people (unfortunately, ugly people do have a hard time in society even though, for the most part, they’re truly the most beautiful people on the inside since they don’t have much of a choice if they want to be proud people. Ugly people with ugly personalities are relatively rare even though society sometimes makes it seem that they’re commonplace). 

So sexism is a big issue for attractive ethnic women but right now, I am not talking about the kind enforced by men, it’s the type that’s subconsciously enforced by other women. Either white women or other women of color who aren’t aware of their subconscious self-hate. I’m talking about petty shaming of other women for their appearance, body type, sex or relationship decision-making, friendliness towards others, or other creative reasons against their overall existence. I’m talking about jealousy.

Of course, it goes both ways since there are attractive women of color that belittle attractive white (or light) women due to tribalism mentalities and, on a sociological note, because of their perception of the extra privileges that they undeservedly have. But the belittlement doesn’t affect those women as much as they do the women of color.

Which brings me to my relevant story of today. I was visiting a certain alternative religious congregation yesterday and I couldn’t help notice that it was almost overwhelmingly older, middle to upper class, and white. I could tell that I was going to be a little out of touch with this congregation because of the demographic which made me glad that I attended later on towards the end of the service. I made sure to sit in the back in one of the chairs set to the side of the room. It was directly behind an older white man and his wife was sitting on the chair next to his. I had chosen this seat because I wanted to see what was in front while remaining inconspicuous when it was time to leave (my anxiety tells me that I don’t want to make it seem that I have anything against them). 

I don’t think much of any of it as it was never a thought that anything that I was doing was planned, even if the man in front of me happened to be young and hot. But I did come by myself, so that officially put me in the weird category and maybe, with my attractiveness, it came across as suspicious to his wife that looked back at me a few times. It seemed to me at first that she was just curious to see the newcomer until she told her husband in a low but audible tone that she thought I liked him. It was a very disgusting claim to jump to as she had no valid reasons to back up this claim, not to mention that he was very far from my type, no offense to her of course (I couldn’t even see his face! How could you claim that I’m attracted to someone if you can’t even see how they look like).

And I just had that nagging feeling that had I been white, she wouldn’t have made that stupid claim. Unfortunately, I thought back to the times I noticed that, sometimes, because of their poverty, some young, attractive ethnic women pursue older, wealthier men to support them. (Look at Trump and his wife, though she’s not exactly ethnic being white but being foreign from a smaller, humble European country adds to that “exotic” perception amongst white people. A more relevant example to my situation is how commonplace mail-order brides from third-world countries are). And I suppose with my appearance, I stood out from the demographic and maybe it was assumed that I was poor as well. I was definitely not one of them but it made me wonder if the woman thought I was one of them or even wanted to maliciously influence me to be self-conscious of how I come across to other demographics of people for that reason. 

After she said this, she consciously stood right next to him blatantly with her back towards me as if she were claiming ownership. Of course, I couldn’t read any facial expressions, but the body language of the man looked very stiff, as if he were uncomfortable (I’m very attuned to people’s body language and expressions). The whole situation was very unnecessary and awkward.

Probably an unnecessary, overly self-conscious choice, but I then blew my nose continuously, in a way to make myself more unlady-like which I think that she eventually noticed along with her husband’s awkwardness as she retreated to her former position.

What a wonderful welcome to the congregation. It’s not the entire congregation’s fault but I took it as a spiritual sign that maybe this particular “religious” community wasn’t the right one for me. I won’t stop going after what interests me, even if they’re eccentric from the typical for my demographic, and even if I have to continue seeing them by myself.

[casualarsonist]

The Witcher 3 review

The Witcher 3 is the best game I have ever played.

This doesn’t mean it’s a perfect game, an entirely complete game, or above being frustrating at times.

But in a world of cookie-cutter copy-and-paste busywork-rammed factory-made conveyor-belt-production-line open-world games, The Witcher 3, in my opinion, stands heads and shoulders about the rest.

Now it’s worth a mention as I start that this is the second time I’ve reviewed The Witcher 3 and my first take on the game was not quite so flattering. I was bothered by a few things, namely the baffling exclusivity of the narrative that failed to fill us in on the back stories of characters that were old friends to Geralt and strangers to anyone that hadn’t read the novels, as well as the sheer exhaustive amount of content on offer (‘what’s that?!’ I hear you cry, ‘you were critical of it for the level of content?!’ Not critical, as such, just, as I said, exhausted.) I wrote an enormous paragraph about how I wasn’t able to be invested in a story that relied on me knowing the histories of the key characters in order to understand their function on a practical and a personal level. I felt particularly slighted given TW2 followed on directly from TW1 in such a way as the only requirement for the player’s full investment in the story was to have finished the first game, but even then it was enough of its own product that it could be reliably enjoyed autonomously. I was also quite simply fatigued by it all. The numerous maps are sprawling, packed with locations and people and missions. Your quest list becomes absolutely rammed with things to do, and factor in all the travelling and searching and listening and reading…well, it’s a bit investment, and something you need to be prepared to pay attention to in order to fully enjoy, and I fully admit that I wasn’t mentally prepared to forsake everything else and focus simply on letting myself be a part of this world for as long as it took to finish the game, and without that dedication, without giving yourself permission to be sucked into  the living, breathing empire of the Northern Kingdoms it can feel a little overwhelming. It was the first of The Witcher games that I had failed to complete in one go, which in retrospect is both paradoxically shocking and yet unsurprising as it’s clearly the best of the series by a mile, but it’s also the most grand. So, after some time had passed and the game had had a few updates I went back, and I found that somethings had changed, others had not, but most importantly, with fresh eyes I found the greatest open-world game ever made.

If you know nothing of The Witcher series then I won’t be able to cover everything for you, but in short, TW3 is the continuing story of Geralt of Rivia – a Witcher, or beast-slayer for hire. The Northern Realms have been invaded by the Nilfgaardian Empire from the south, and are losing the war. Geralt has been contacted by his former lover Yennifer of Vengeberg, and attempts to track her down whilst doing his best to dodge the affairs of the various armies, but whereas TW2 went full-on Game Of Thrones with complex political dealings and many choices to be made by the player character that affected the world at large, TW3 is a much more personal story. After finally coming into contact with Yennifer, with whom Geralt seems indelibly connected despite the fact that neither is particularly good for one another, she informs him that she’s working for the Nilfgaardian emperor, who has summoned Geralt for a meeting. In the meeting, Geralt is informed that the emperor’s daughter, Ciri, has gone missing. Ciri trained as a Witcher under Geralt, and as such he has a deep paternal connection to her. Ciri is also the last of the bloodline of an ancient elven race and has the ability to manipulate time and space, and is fleeing the Wild Hunt – a group of malicious elves determined to use her powers for destruction and control.

It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? And it isn’t helped by the fact that the major players – Yennifer, Ciri, the Nilfgaardian emperor, and the Wild Hunt all have a rich history with Geralt that is referenced, but not elaborated upon or explained in-game for the player, and this is a huge problem if you’re supposed to be relating to the feelings felt between Geralt and Yennifer, but you don’t know who Yennifer is and have no reason to care for her, for instance. At its worst it’s crippling, devastating to the player’s ability to connect with the main plot of the game. There are ever-expanding character bios that give you summaries, but if you want to understand many of the references the characters make throughout your time playing, if you want to understand why Ciri, for instance, is so important, and why the Wild Hunt are to be feared, you’re just going to have to read the books (or the wiki, I guess). This is my single greatest point of contention with TW3, and given that it was the main focus of my last review, I felt it handy to address it upfront here. And perhaps it’s that I devoted more attention to the what is said and written the second time round, perhaps it’s that I was passing over a story with which I now had a familiarity, or perhaps I’m just an idiot and was too thick to get it the first time round, but my second playthrough was a little easier to understand than my first. I still don’t quite get the big deal about Ciri, and I still didn’t connect to Yennifer and had no problem making decisions that worked against her, so I would still label the exclusivity of the plot and its reliance on lore outside of the games as a bad choice by the writers, but it was easier. Seriously though, the fact that it’s called ‘The Witcher 3’ gives the consumer a reasonable expectation that playing the Witchers 1 and 2 is enough required material for following the story, so given that this is almost an entirely new and separate entity with dozens of characters established in the books but never before appearing in the video games, I still feel that it’s hugely problematic that they introduced so many elements foreign to any of the games. This isn’t to say that the whole game is like that – once you learn who the characters and enemies are, the story is gripping and well-written; the DLC especially so as the characters there are ‘discovered’ by Geralt as they are the player. But as I said, this is my main gripe, and while I have one or two big problems with the game, they’re almost alone in this sense of importance. 

But what of the game itself? Well, here’s the real treat. Story issues aside, The Witcher 3 is absolutely glorious. The game is incredibly well-optimised, and you ought to be able to find a configuration of settings that will have it playing well on almost any type of rig.

While there were a number of sometimes-fatal glitches upon release, these were more-or-less non-existent upon my returning playthrough. Some of the gameplay systems have been streamlined – the controls are smoother and tighter than they used to be and there’s an alternate control scheme on offer that feels much better when playing with a controller.

Moving away from the Arkham style of glorified quicktime combat that had flooded the market of open world fighting games, TW3’s system of combat is far more skill-based. Things are skewed against you as a newcomer, and there are certain areas that you won’t be able to venture into and certain enemies you won’t be able to defeat for a while after you begin, but the game quickly forces you into learning the virtues of dodging, blocking, effectively parrying, and using your signs (magic powers, basically) to control bands of incoming enemies and gain the upper hand. That is, the more you play it, the better you get. The fighting is wonderfully gory as well, and lopping off heads or slicing people entirely in two never gets old.

The skill tree is vast and allows for a number of different play-styles, although some skills are clearly more useful than others and there’s a good chance that many will go untouched by you forever. Given that the game only lets you use a certain number of upgraded skills at once, there also comes a point when you are simply wasting points on upgrades that you can’t or won’t use. This, along with some elements of the menu interface remain clunky and wasteful in their design, but for a series that is notable for its often frustrating design choices, this is a minor quibble if anything at all.

Traversing the world is a pleasure, and whether on-foot or on Geralt’s horse, Roach, you will cross grassy meadows and snow-capped peaks, stony shores and misty marshes, through populous cobbled cities and small rural villages. Geralt can run and jump, swim or pilot a boat. Roach can navigate the landscape fairly well, and will navigate roads automatically. The developers haven’t quite got the technology down pat in terms of his AI steering and it feels like he takes the wrong fork in the road four out of five times, as well as occasionally stopping dead for no reason or simply refusing to ride down certain slopes, although I suppose you could say that this perfectly mimics the stubborn flightiness of horses.

Compared to the previous games, your actions don’t seem to make as much of an impact here, but acknowledging the fact that this story is a more personal one, I suppose it makes sense that you’re no-longer changing the course of history for entire countries. This is at odds with two things, however; the first being that there are seemingly world-ending consequences to losing Ciri, which sets the stakes enormously high for a game that won’t let you play with the fates of kings and men as the previous game did. Secondly, it’s exactly because your actions had such wide-reaching consequences previously that it feels so incongruent that your actions suddenly have less of an over-all visible impact in this game - Geralt goes from being a pivotal piece in the puzzle to a mere pawn. On the whole, the way they tried to give you a degree of choice just feels a little undercooked, and there’s little to convince the player that we’re doing something other than being marched irrevocably onwards towards one single final point, regardless of what path we choose to take.

Visually, the game is…incredible. This word - ‘incredible’ - feels flaccid because it simply doesn’t do it justice; TW3 has to be seen to be believed. The emotional weight of the narrative is helped immensely by the quality of the facial animations, and every single main character is animated impeccably. The day/night cycle is spectacularly realised, and whether you’re seeing the sun set over calm fields or rise over the blue ocean, you might find yourself frequently stopping to stare and take a screenshot, as I did.

The voice work is also top notch, and it’s hard to find a flaw in any of the performances. Doug Cockle brings his gravelly best to Geralt, and frankly, I can’t imagine anyone else in the role. The role of Geralt disappears with Doug Cockle, in my mind. Denise Gough, a fantastic actor, portrays Yennifer with such strength and biting contrariness that one can’t help but see in her exactly the kind of dangerous hot-headedness but complex humanity that Geralt sees. A massive special mention to James Clyde who plays The Bloody Baron – one of the Northern Kingdom’s lords, a drunk and unprincipled bastard if ever there was one, but not a Nilfgaardian (importantly) and (more importantly) the axis upon which one of the best stories in the game hinges.

His performance and the writing of his character typifies one of the game’s greatest strengths – the fact that the game favours quality side content, an almost unheard-of feature as of late. The main quest mission concerning the Baron is a trifle, but it’s the extended side plot involving him that is truly interesting and echoes with a deep emotional resonance. In this, his character blossoms into one with a wonderful sense of light and shade, a maturity that gamers have long been trained not to expect. Remember how I mentioned cookie-cutter busywork-rammed open-world games? TW3 is the antithesis of these, the antigen to the cancerous Ubisoft model of open-world gaming. Every side mission, every activity, every thing you do in TW3 has context; there is a clear reason for doing them, a clear motivation that is understood by the player and Geralt alike. You feel compelled to finish them not out of an obsessive completionism, but out of a genuine desire to see where they lead. Sometimes you’re investigating interesting new places, sometimes you’re wooed by the character’s stories, sometimes you must make choices that will change the fates of the individuals involved; in most cases you will find yourself invested in what you are doing. Almost never will you be required to go somewhere and collect something for the sake of collecting it, or kill something just for the sake of killing it. Even the simple Witcher contracts (beast-killing bounties) are jazzed up, because the game will often undermine your expectations and deliver a twist or conclusion that you didn’t expect, and this keeps things interesting. There’s a great variety in the amount of activities available as well - many towns will have a noticeboard that will offer you quests and bounties. By the end of the game these have numbered in the hundreds, but as most will lead to a story in and of itself, it’s rare to feel bored by these.

And this is why I was wrong about The Witcher 3 the first time around. This is why I needed to rewrite my review. I initially claimed that it wasn’t the ‘great leap forward’ that so many had predicted, but I was incorrect, because the developer’s dedication to maintaining the quality of the little things and mastery of the technology behind the big things turned it into something bigger than the latest Assassin’s Creed photocopy; something bigger than the soulless Fallout 4. The prevailing opinion these days seems to be that players want more features and more systems. But The Witcher 3 rejects the ‘sandbox’ style of gameplay in which a developer gives the player a set of boundaries and bunch of toys thrown haphazardly about and tells them to make their own fun. They remembered that a single player game is one that relies on narrative; the single player experience is one in which the player is asking to be entertained. So they didn’t settle for a ‘box’, and instead made a series of crafted landscapes, and they rejected the assumption that a pile of toys was enough, instead giving us stories and context. Yes, it still has some bizarre design choices that seem endemic to the series as a whole, but The Witcher 3 is a long way from the clunkiness of the first game. And yes, the established interpersonal relationships can seem impenetrable, but these gripes are outweighed by the importance of everything the game got right. The developers weren’t happy to deliver a sandbox game. They wanted to deliver an open world, a real world with people interacting and feeling and doing and saying and affecting each other, and in turn, affecting us. And by god, they did it.  

9.5/10

(Very) Outstanding