#everyone else did it because of perceived popularity with teenage girls

[alackofghosts]

i was idly musing if i'm conning myself into seeing kristjan kasearu as a voice claim for wol, and because the last time he was relevant to my existence was 18 years ago, i wasn't like. thinking about what he looks like at all. but. i saw. i saw a photo of him today and um. he looked like this in 2006

[chaseprice]

hi!! hope i’m not a bother. i just came across u and i wanted to ask something,,,

basically, i joined the life is strange fandom in 2018 so i never got to experience the pre-bts era, meaning i didn’t get to experience what rachel was like to the fandom back then or see the different interpretations of her.

i did some digging and i found some fan content of her from 2015-2016 & i’m absolutely infatuated with all aspects of the fanon version of her, especially her personality & how she looked. i totally wanna embody her. also the love is strange vn was so interesting to play, i love how she was written. i’d love to know more!

i stumbled across ur blog while i was doing my digging and i saw an old long post of urs saying how bts didn’t live up to the fandoms expectations, as almost everyone perceived her differently.

sorry for all the yapping LOL but what i basically wanna ask is,,, how *exactly* did the fandom perceive rachel back then (2015-2016). what were some popular headcanons for her? things you guys even considered to be canon? what were some of your own *personal* headcanons? (can be silly, realistic,,, just anything you thought resonated with her)

do you have any favorite arts from that time period that you thought really captured her? what were your hopes for the prequel/rachels character before it was released? what did you want to see in terms of story? was rachel’s style, appearance, & personality extremely different than what you expected? what did you expect?

i assume that rachels treatment in the fandom was different then than what it is now. whether it’s better or worse, i’m not sure. i was hoping u could answer that too😞. recently i’ve just been seeing constant hatred or lack of care for her character so i’m starting to think that if bts was written differently and based on the fandom’s interpretations instead, the hate now wouldn’t be this bad.

from my digging it seems like you guys had alot of fun sculpting rachel’s character on your own, and the interpretations were probably more realistic than what decknine put together.

anyway i’m sorry for the yapping essay on this random saturday, most old lis accounts are dead & i didn’t know who else to ask☹️. just trying to relive what you guys experienced the best i can. hope i’m not bombarding you with this. thank you so much if u respond !!

hiii u def did not bother me, i am not in a position to answer all of these questions, but although it makes me feel ancient, it's cute to see so much passion for rachel and pre-BTS fandom opinion, so i'll try answer some and for the rest (art, hcs, etc.) im just gonna have to direct you to my archive* (will continue under the readmore)

*(tumblr archive is so broken on mobile so you gotta go on pc for this, but also there's so many gifs from that time so it will Definitely slow down your browser). i was insane and 17 years old so like, just excuse all of the cringe content i guess. you can click tag and filter it by either #lis #rachel amber #amberprice or whatever to try and find stuff like art. and i got into lis sept 2015 so that's like, as far back as it will go, but i was fully lisbrained from 2016 through 2018)

to be honest, in alignment with pre-bts thought lmao, rachel is whoever you want her to be. there was less of 'this is a correct objective fact about her personality/history' and more 'yeah, this is an idea the fandom really likes and has become fanon, most likely because it is a nuanced and entertaining and realistic interpretation of what we have seen of her character in lis1' which means people whose opinions conflicted with that might've be contested/laughed at/unpopular, but they weren't wrong per se. there were plenty of people i'd criticise (and ridicule) back then for implying that this teenage girl was evil, and being a teenager myself back then, i'd call them morally reprehensible and cancellable and whatever, but tbh, as an adult now, i can just see that it was simply a boring interpretation of her character informed by misogyny

i'd disagree with the notion that fandom treatment of rachel's character was better before bts, back then there were plenty of people seemingly excited to characterise her as emotionally manipulative, a cheater, deserved what she got, etc. as well, bc tbh, the story did leave room for that interpretation, but it left room for so much more as well. i feel like bts just really locked in on a certain story they wanted to tell plot-wise, and didn't choose to explore a lot of the questions fans had about rachel as a person. it's hard to turn the ambiguity of a friendship turned situationship over a period of 4 years into a playable experience for an audience - so they didn't. regardless, it got people thinking about rachel more, putting a spotlight on her, hence increased attention both positive and negative. i feel like there's just a fundamental difference between what lis1 fans enjoyed about the potential for her character and how she related with chloe and the world around her, and what deck9 wanted to portray in bts (yes they hit the astrological headcanons, the charmingness, her rebellion, the emotional conflicts... but it personally felt hollow, contrived sometimes, i suppose). but there were a lot of people who loved bts (i enjoyed a lot of parts of it!). just, in my opinion, some of those were quite different people from who loved lis1, and with that wave it brought a lot of emotional immaturity to the fandom (like... ship wars, really? that was an insane change to fandom dynamics for me lmao, but maybe i was just spoiled by surrounding myself with people whose takes i respected)

anyway i highly recommend also that if you're hungry for that kind of content, read fanfiction on AO3 by the old fans - by Mogatrat (TON of rachel centric ones there), explosionshark and tippytypewriter, chicknparm (though Cusp is written post-bts, it's informed by pre-bts characterisations), vicepoint (me hehe), def many more good ones out there those r jus my friends so they come to mind first, e.g. i liked homecoming by kriegersan back in the day, but you could def find some more by sorting the lis ao3 page by kudos and reading the older ones that are highly rated featuring rachel. and lastly, my gf wrote a beautifully worded blog post called "The Assassination of Rachel Amber by the Cowards Dontnod and Deck Nine" which gets into some of this from a media crit perspective (not about fandom) in a very eloquent way thru comparison w twin peaks and i highly recommend that

rachel hcs that def started way before bts: skater rachel, stoner rachel, punk music listener rachel (but also like, fleetwood mac cranberries cocteau twins grungy hippy stuff rachel too), rachel's parents being distant and still living in california, curvy thick rachel, things that i've accepted as canon but were def created by diff people: bri explosionshark hc'd that rachel paid for chloe's sleeve, mogatrat (i think) hc'd that rachel initially went to get her nips pierced with chloe (that's a longtime fan hc now idk who started that one) but chickened out at the last minute, i think she also hc'd that chloe made the earring for rachel which is cute too

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

Are there other Theon ships you like?

EDIT: I am sorry for this lateness anon. I thought I had posted this back in September (around the time I was getting survey related asks) shortly after it was sent but I just found it on the queue while searching for something else. Sorry. It was very sweet of you to ask so I feel abad about not realising I didn't post it any sooner.

I have weird feelings regarding ships in this fandom so most of the time with "ship" I just mean "I want to see them interact in emotionally intense situations of conflict, affection and resentment" but here are the ones I could think of in which some sort of romance/attraction/affection is part of my preferred dynamic.

Theon/Jeyne (already explained it here. Basically it's just that I am really into circumstantial affection, codependency and the themes of accountability for past misdeeds and irredeemability vs redemption. I like it at best when it's not outright shippy but ambiguous and open to interpretation. I always recommend Girl On Ice (and I won't stop now) but also I honestly feel that Little Brother, although the focus is truly on Asha and her anxiety over her entire situation in the end of ADWD, has probably my favourite post-adwd dynamic for them and it's even more ambiguous in a very tongue-in-cheek manner that I appreciate.)

Jon/Theon (Similar feelings about circumstantial affection but without the same themes. Like the idea of the two unwelcomed somewhat unwilling members of Winterfell being some of the last remainings of it. Also prefer it as something ambiguous and open to interpretation but with slightly more antagonistic feelings between the two. I like Jon but he'll be ultimately relieved to know Theon actually just killed the Miller's boys and that is not necessarily a good thing for me (although I understand and won't blame him for that possible reaction). I admit to being picky because I disagree with some popular takes about Theon having bullied Jon or them hating each other and I also am very strongly against Stark romanticism which often appears in fics focused on them.)

Theon/Barbrey (Everyone thinks I said this as a joke but I actually mean it. Their conversation during the Turncloak chapter made me cry like a child when I first read it and I haven't been the same person ever since. It completely rewired the way I perceive things. I like relationships that grow not out of love but hatred and feelings of mutual hurt originating from similar issues. I like the idea that she might at some point be the one to fully take the Stark goggles off him. Also prefer it as ambiguous rather than straight up romantic. This is one of my favourite fics ever and it sometimes makes me cry. Canon divergent ADWD where she takes him away from Ramsay and Roose (also "Arya" gets saved anyway, don't worry))

Theon/Kyra (Prefer it as horror from Kyra's side but mixed with the possible former feelings of teenage love they might have had. They seemed emotionally close and I can imagine she might have felt more for him than he ever did for her. That's interesting for me given what happens later on during ACOK and that she still tries to save him from the Dreadfort. I like the idea that when he kissed her on the other side of the river she could only feel fear and indignation)

Theon/Patrek (one of the more wholesome ones here and to be honest it only started really interesting me once Patrek was used as a leverage against his father and they literally tied a noose around his neck. I like it a lot more than I express. I like to think that the anger Patrek might have felt towards Theon at that point was somewhat mitigated or that it will be mitigated now that he has been on a similar position. Preferred daydreams involve small one-night reunions when Theon finally gets to go to the Islands and has to stop at Seaguard where Patrek is. Strange type of meetings between people who were very happy and close during a brief time that was violently and abruptly cut get to reminiscence about a past they feel conflicted about. I like to think their relationship would be re-contextualised given Patrek has been used against his father now).

Theon/Baelor (Absolutely no canon foundation which is weird given I am who I am but I have such a desire for a gap filler where the two get to interact during Theon's time in ACOK and Theon is able to see this somewhat well-adjusted version of himself that has even turned into a figure of influence and just feels completely irritated and hateful by the situation.)

Theon/Falia (Been ruminating on this for a long time now and she could embody aspects of the Kyra to his Theon and he the Euron to her Falia so yes enjoy it a lot. Although I've only seen it written once and it was in a post-ados ambiguously hopeful fic. Really liked it. It was very sweet. However on a long term not I'd really like her becoming a strange type of second chance for what he had with Kyra and him a second chance for what she had with Euron. Horny on main ironborn comes to take the castle of the feudal lord whose lands you live in and takes you, a lowborn woman who seems rather willing, to live there for a while and sleep in the bed of said feudal lord. Things change suddenly and you find yourself physically and sexually abused by someone you trusted.)

Sexual relationships I do not ship but read anyway because of interesting dynamics

Theon/Ramsay (It has to be fully non-consensual, full horror and as canon-compliant as possible. If I see Theon referring to him as "master" I am out. Also I'm finally coming to terms with the fact that erotically written stuff triggers me so it's difficult. Implicit rape/non-con mixed with the horrors of depersonalisation and contradicting feelings about whether he deserves any of what happened to him or not are very welcomed though!)

Theon/Cersei (Talked about it here. People take it as comedic and I see why and it makes me laugh but it only caught my attention once I started thinking more seriously about it and I weirdly enough I can somewhat enjoy it as long as the characterisation isn't purely hedonistic-cringe-fail-milf-hunter. Something I think could be interesting is if the marriage were to take place after Theon had spent a significative amount of time at the Dreadfort but hadn't gone through a drastic change in appearance and thus was not visibly weakened and hurt. Anyway, go read Broken Cage! The Cersei POV voice is perfect.)

Open but not fully into it

Theon/Tris (theoretically I think I'd like it and it fits into themes I enjoy. Both of them at some point pursue(d) Asha due to misreading who she really is and are questioned in regards to whether they truly fit to Ironborn culture (they do!) by the same woman who looks down on them a little. So yeah could be cool! but until now what I've perceived of it is basically "Theon gets a wholesome boyfriend who is kind of wholesome in canon too and isn't romanticised by fandom so he doesn't fell ooc!" and that's very nice and makes me happy for him but it's not very interesting to me.)

Theon/Jory (There was this really good fanfic back in 2017 Russian fanfic website and it has sadly been lost to humanity but it was good.)

Theon/Brienne (Irl friend proposed it as a joke but pre-ramsay he fits her type as snarky, fashionable, mockish young man and it could be interesting because he would be a tremendous asshole and would probably emotionally scar her. That's all I have to say.)

Theon/Meera (Quite surprised at how no one has developed anything complex based on his not very-pure-thoughts back in ACOK and their connection to Bran. Could be interesting.)

[anthonysfuneral]

The duffers shouldn’t get credit for most of the show honestly other than perhaps the main storyline. Anything that made the show’s characters interesting was typically the actors not them. Steve actually being good and not an assaulter was Joe’s work. Robin being gay and not Steve’s next love interest was Maya. Ofc Billy being a victim of abuse and not just a one sided villain was Dacre. Eddie flirting with Chrissy was how Joseph wanted to play the part not how it was written.

They are just so out of touch with what their characters are like it’s knots like they never watched their own show lmao. Billy is the most evilest character in their eyes while Dr. Brenner who literally experimented on and tortured kids has this semi-redemption in s4 and is deemed ok. Jason who started a lynch mob for some kids is excused bc he lost Chrissy. 001 is also not so bad despite being a murderer. God forbid any of Billy’s actions be explained and explored because he was a one sided villain to them jfc. Anyways the Duffers contribute fuck all to the show and everything that drew me into the show was the result of actors changing shit not them.

Literal-fucking-ly! If it weren't for the actors input, the show wouldn't be half as fucking popular because it would be full of the same one-note eighties stereotypes. Robin and Steve would've been pretty boy meets eccentric girl and they fall in love. Billy would've been the shitty jock asshole. Eddie would've been the corrupt drug dealer to turn golden girl Chrissy bad. Guess who saved us from the Duffers' boring characters? I'll give you a hint— it wasn't them changing their minds!

Like, I get they're the producers, which means they have full reign over how they want their show to be perceived. However, this doesn't mean they're like. Right.

Anyway, yeah. I'm convinced the Duffers only write in abuse victims as plot devices. Remember Patrick? Probably not, considering he got fuck all when it came to screen time and his abuse was used to shovel Vecna's choice of victims into the show. Same with Chrissy when it came to her mother.

They're more interested in giving the man who— and I'm not going to sugarcoat it— tortured children a fleshed out redemption arc than the angry abuse victim, who they just said "he died for everyone! God, aren't we great at writing character arcs?"

Jason is an entirely different issue, because you're gonna say Jason's reaction to his girlfriend dying is fully justified (y'know, him forming an entire fucking lynch mob) but Billy's reaction to eighteen years of abuse with zero-to-none support is evil? Especially when Billy did nothing close to what Jason did. I guess you can bring up him beating Steve's ass, but they were two almost adult teenagers, and this is after Billy discovers teenage Max, the sibling he's supposed to protect or else he gets beat, is hanging out with what's nearly an adult. Meanwhile, Jason literally fucking shoots at and beats the shit out of Lucas, a teenager, (when Billy did fuck all but vaguely threaten him and push him around a little? It's still not justified, but it's nowhere near what Carver did), not to mention sending his goons to chase a little black girl. And even if he hadn't done that, his lack of action literally wouldn't have had near the consequences Billy would've gotten! But guess who gets more sympathy? Poor little fucking rich boy Jason Carver.

Anyway, yeah. Me 🤝 you: despising the Duffer Brothers and the fact these fuckers cannot write characters.

[dramionediscussion]

I don’t think Hermione is perfect, but I can see where people are coming from with that. Closely related to that, admittedly she is JKR’s self-insert, which is relevant, but I don’t think in a way I see it often levied against her. That word and especially its manifestation Mary Sue gets thrown around a lot these days, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with self-inserts. If one has humility, introspectiveness, and honesty to truly examine and portray themselves truthfully, with all their follies and flaws displayed openly at the world. Realistic self-inserts after all are full-fledged and multidimensional characters, and it has been done well often by many authors throughout ages (like Agatha Christie or Kurt Vonnegut to name a few). Presenting highly idealized and (unrealistically) flattering portray of oneself, and then living out one’s fantasies vicariously through that fictitious avatar is entirely different matter. Regardless of exact nature of those fantasies (be them power fantasies, or erotic, or romantic, or just world, etc. Whatever ends up in those “then everyone clapped”-moments). It would be a stretch and unfair to describe JKR and Hermione like that. My theory for Hermione is that she started out more closely as a somewhat authentic if not exaggerated portrayal of her younger self at earlier books. Slowly as the series progresses JKR became ever more attached and fond of Hermione as a character independent of herself and her own life history. Earlier books Hermione’s flaws are lot more pronounced, and they also feel a lot more raw and personal. They get ironed out, refined and almost sublimated, to a point that while they are never entirely absent, they are so muted at the end that might not even be there. In the earlier books she frequently comes off as awkward, overconfident, precocious, tactless, stubborn, self-righteous, and she often totally lacks subtlety and doesn’t seem be at all aware of her actions are perceived by others. She also lacks humility, when her own moral intuition and sense of justice is concerned.   To a degree, she gave her something of an idealized past and certain experiences she probably wished she would’ve had (like the princess moment at the Yule Ball. I don’t know if she fantasied of being belle of the ball exactly like that, but in general an experience of being desired and beautiful). Despite those certain indulgences, there’s brutal honesty there as well (her classroom behavior, S.P.E.W., etc.) Yet, as books went on, It never reads like a narcissistic projection of the self, but more like an attachment between parent and child, protégé and mentor, biographer and biographee, teacher and favorite pupil, or author and her favorite character. It’s not unrealistic ofc, that when people grow older, they mature and their personality flaws are at least tempered, or they entirely grow out of them. However, usually something else comes along molded by new experiences and circumstances, thus even if people don’t have problems they had as young, something or other comes along to fill that void.   Hermione is not entirely without fault even in later books, but often even when she’s wrong her thoughts are well-founded and usually even partially right (like with Draco as a Death Eater. She was technically wrong, but it’s not like Draco was a Death Eater in a way Bellatrix or even his father was, which totally was the way Harry thought he was). When she acts childishly or selfishly she usually is justified at least somewhat. Ultimately her errors are quite inconsequential compared to Harry and Ron. I believe, it was partly because JKR had become so much more fond of her, that she simply didn’t have heart to give her defects, hardships and failures as much as she had in the beginning. It was a gradual shift without a clear turning-point, but it never goes to the total extreme that she’s absolutely flawless and perfect, nonetheless the process is there. Closest to a turning point is perhaps the Yule Ball, though despite everything, I always found it to be kind of sweet and fluffy in itself rather than self-indulgent. What was more came afterwards, when she kind of dismissed it, because you see it’s not like she’s vain about her looks. I mean, she totally could be pretty, if she just wished so, and paid enough attention to her appearance. But no no, she’s not superficial like all those other simpering girls. Yet, she totally could be because she’s naturally pretty beneath it all. I would totally win, only if I bothered to even play is kind of an ultimate flex.    Another major element for this is the genre of Harry Potter series is. It is a coming-of-age story, and a school drama as well, but above all else, the overarching narrative is a fantasy adventure. The main-plot is the struggle against and an ultimate defeat of evil antagonist. The main plot becomes ever more relevant as the series goes on, to the final conclusion of the Deathly Hallows, which is devoted almost entirely to it. This affects characterizations, not only that the trio are heroic protagonist, who overcome obstacles and perform extraordinary feats and heroic deeds against all odds. It’s given that even if they do mistakes, and don’t always win, they’ll triumph and succeed in a way, that wouldn’t be appropriate if it was just a drama, or a realistic depiction of teenagers. This is especially true for both Harry and Hermione at the later books (little less for Ron, but he’s there). They are going to be way more competent, capable, virtuous and lucky than teenagers or children that age would be realistically, or most other literary genres. Second effect is sort of economics of a story. At the later books, so much has to be allocated to the main plot, with all its many intricacies. Events have to be told, and one has to build up everything up from the Macguffins to Voldemort himself, and then resolve all it. Less and less time and attention can be devoted into Hermione’s backstory (or anybody’s), or interpersonal drama or individualized character development. In my opinion earlier books stroke a much better balance than the later ones between these different elements. Or perhaps I just never found the main-plot or the Second Wizarding War (my God, it could even abbreviated as WW2) to be all that interesting or compelling. Also, as HP become more about this epic fantasy adventure, and less about growing up, being in a school and the interpersonal drama, fitting in, finding and forming friendships, and so on. As this happened, I am quite sure that Hermione become more divorced from JKR’s own experiences and her self-insert as Hermione. Even if it is a magical school, it is still a school, with all the anxiousness about friends, future, crushes and dating, school work, teachers, etc. It’s easier to project yourself in that common setting such as a school is, rather than riding dragons and breaking into banks and hunting down and destroying evil magical artifacts. I can understand, why writing Hermione become more difficult, as environment and rhythm of books changed considerably from more familiar to more fantastic, and I can see how especially Hermione didn’t make the transition as well, because she was more heavily grounded into former. I can see why in its entirety Hermione comes of as a little contradictory, because there’s truth to both claims that she’s at the same time too perfect and that she’s multifaceted and complex. There’s interesting core to her character, and there’s a lot of material and potential to work with. Unfortunately, due many aforementioned reasons JKR didn’t manage to realize that potential and set-up she had constructed. I don’t think it was an utter failure, even at the latter books, but missed opportunities and unrealized potential were many. I didn’t meant to write JKR or canon apologia here, but I don’t detest either of them. There’s clearly something there, both to Hermione and canon, but it’s kind of uneven and conflicting at the times. A mixed bag, but usually that’s most interesting starting point for a fanfiction, unlike a perfection or fiasco. Trying to turn shit into gold is not worth of the effort, but neither is trying to fiddle around a divine masterpiece. I’ve always felt that fanfiction actually benefits, if author has left a lot of ground uncovered and has some internal contradictions, which gives way for different possibilities and avenues for fanfiction writers to broaden horizons and deepen characterizations, and fulfill those missed potentialities. If HP was this crown jewel of perfection by all means, solely without any missed potentialities or loose ends, then I probably wouldn’t even be interested in reading fanfiction about it. As it would’ve been done so wonderfully in canon, that fanfiction could never match up in comparison, and there wouldn’t be room for other attempts (couldn’t imagine reading Dostoevsky fanfiction as an example). I’ve always held, that one main reason why Draco as an example is so prominent and popular in fanfiction, is because he fit so comfortably in that perfect sweetspot of canon coverage. He’s not Theodore Nott, which has almost no hooks or knowable features, but neither is he Harry, who’s so well and extensively covered, that I’d find it suffocating to write in his perspective. P.S. If there’s one thing JKR didn’t spoil her was romance lol. No hot steaming affairs or a passionate romances for her. Not even giving her that cultured and sophisticated (if a bit dangerous) chad vying for her attention, who is inexplicably attracted to her, and ends up worshiping her. Actually, it’s not like she even got a sugary and mushy teenage dating treatment either. Awkward courting, necking at the make-out point, him carrying her books and suddenly developing uncharacteristic interest at the schoolwork and library. What was there, jealously and couple grand gestures at the end. Poor girl. I’ve always wondered whether JKR meant to write Romione as she did with Hinny. A little schmaltzy, “then the best friends, the heroine and heroine fell in love, and got married and lived happily ever after”-affair (kind of fitting for a fantasy adventure novels primary aimed for children and YAs. Hinny was ok I suppose as compatibility goes, but Romione in the other hand… well the basic idea if not characters chosen were acceptable). Or was it suppose to be a gritty realism, more in line with her self-insert, in which the smart girl gets roped in by almost the first guy she’s ever into, who’s actually really unfit for her.

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire.2.14.

AN: Hard Topics in this chapter.

Loud rock music blasted out from headphones atop Riley’s head as she laced up her skates. Her hands were shaking, but this was not out of nerves or anticipation. 

Riley was angry. Her breathing was short and quick, and her skin was taking on a reddening hue. Other women in the locker room of which Riley was lacing up were eyeing her up, whispering to each other.

I’ve never seen her like that. She’s not usually this mad. Think her boyfriend dumped her? Oh I don’t think she swings that way.

Riley turned quickly to the gathering of which was discussing her attitudes, and glared at them.

The group quickly disappeared into the rink, almost tripping over each other. Riley turned back to lacing up her skates, trying her best to still her shaking hands.

It was nothing new to her. Especially at this rink. They would always talk behind her back, snidely putting her down for who she was. Normally Riley would ignore it, then when the derby games started would then lay out the girls who talked bad about her into the ground.

But today Riley was fuming. It was a rage she had been hiding, suppressing, fueled by a hatred.

Hundreds had died at Charleston. It would have been more had Riley and her class not been there helping others escape. 

Could have been a lot less too.

Reverse had always drilled into them a strong moral code one must follow to be a hero. “You are safe when everyone is safe.” Riley could not allow herself to be safe, as she could have easily run away from the disaster, if others were still in danger. 

However she was not a professional hero yet. She was a teenager. She could only do so much. So when Reverse delivered the second largest punch in American History, she was lucky to be outside the Stadium carrying a civilian to safety. But she knew there were more. More in that Stadium who she could have saved. But she couldn’t, because she was not fast enough.

Thats the rage Riley now uses to fuel herself in Roller Derby games. The rage at herself. How she could have saved tens, no dozens more had she had just been faster. Ruler messes up a knot on her skates, curses, and begins to untie them. She feels like such a hypocrite, preaching to Jade about how nothing she could have done would have changed the outcome of Reverse’s fight. How she needs to stop putting the blame of his death on herself. Such words rang hollow on her own ears.

Riley pulled hard on her hand wraps, enough that it hurt. Her face did not betray any emotion, it was stone cold. Another woman came skating in, “Kim, we’re up in two.” Riley nodded and the woman skated away. Riley, while comforting Jade in her perceived failure, had actually failed what she set out to do. Riley had wanted to save everyone in that Stadium. What had happened was, Riley saved a quarter of what she perceived as everyone. 

Riley strapped on her knee and elbow guards.

Every life lost is because I was not quick enough. Every life I did save was not enough.

She put on her helmet and skated to the gate.

I failed them. 

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School had opened up again for the students involved in the Charleston Incident. Reverse, however, was not back in the school yet. Instead there was a sub in the form of the coach Reverse hired for afterschool practice. Riley stumbled into class, legs and arms obscured with a jacket and jeans. Her face was fortunately clean of blemishes. Upon walking into her Hero Combat class, everyone turned to face her. At once dozens of question barraged her, asking about the Stadium. Riley put on her face she always wore, one of a suave and cool chick who could face anything.

Behind her mask she was cringing and crying from what they asked. “Did you see what the villain could do? So cool!” “Did you see what happened to Reverse?” “Wow! You’re like totally a hero now!” “You’re so lucky! I’d give anything to be where you were.”

Would you? Would you give anything to be where I was? Terrified and desperately trying to rescue all I could before the hit landed on Emesh?

Riley smirked, “Yeah it was pretty cool. But I’m glad i’m back here.”

The sub called for everyone to come back to their seats, giving Riley a respite in the questioning. She shuffled to her desk, and very painfully sat within it. The derby last night had been painful, the team she was facing were a good 10 years older and three times as strong as she was. And due, to the no powers rule, she could not outpace her opponents. She was made to be slow, and paid the price for not being faster.

I deserved it. If I were faster..

Riley drifted throughout the day, not really living in any of her classes. She would just blankly stare into the front of the class, the teachings going into one ear and out the other. Riley only felt the throbbing pains in her arms and legs, a grim reminder of her inability. When lunch came, she sat with the Hero Combat Team like she always did. The table was crowded in dozens of people, asking their invading questions and poking their noses into their lives. She thought at least Emily would be soaking in the popularity, but instead Riley saw her across the lunchroom at her own table yelling at her old friends. Then, in an even larger move of surprise, got up and moved to the Team table, sitting next to Ricardo.

The move of Emily to the table had caused the people crowding them like piranhas to dissipate instantly. And with their absence, the table was dead quiet. The only sounds made were the wrinkling of plastics and elbows on tables where heads were soon placed. There was almost a visible depression resonating within all of them. No one else seemed to see it, those who weren’t there. Those who hadn’t seen what they had seen. 

“I am so tired with this school.” Emily spoke with a vindication that was not unheard of from her, but was usually directed at one of them. “They keep talking about how cool it must have been. How they wish they could have seen it.” Emily looked down, her hair obscuring her face. “Don’t they know? Don’t they know that we could have died? That we save hundreds of people who did just that?!” The table could hear a faint choke in her voice. Ricardo put his hand on her back and she fell into his arms. A soft sob could be heard.

Everyone has it. The whole team. Not just me and Jade. 

Ricardo had huge bags under his eyes, and numerous bandages at his fingertips. He has been pushing himself harder. John has knee braces and his arm in a sling. He still hasn’t recovered from the injuries at the stadium. Grace, the often overlooked member of the team, had long since laid her head on the table. The whole group was broken.

After school, Riley was walking to her dorm, and was jumped on by Jade. Jade gave her a huge bear hug, which caused deep tendrils of pain to shoot up her arms. Riley had to stifle any sign of pain within her voice and face as she spoke, “Hey there whats all this for?” Jade looked up to Riley, a large puff of red hair bouncing as she did so. “Don’t you remember? We’re watching a movie tonight. I thought we could go to dinner first.” Riley smiled, although under her mask she cringed.

I don’t deserve this. I can’t sit there next to you and act happy. Don’t look at me with your trusting eyes, I am a failure. Don’t say I saved you, I couldn’t save anyone.

“Riley?” Jade’s question shook Riley out of her stupor, her focusing regaining. “Oh yeah!” Jade stopped hugging Riley, which sent a wave of relief through her. “Is something wrong? You seem off today.” Riley swallowed. “Well, you know, first day back after the whole debacle. Just trying to adjust you know? Ha ha.”  Riley was sweating. She always was a terrible liar.

“Hm, well if you say so. I have to go to tutoring, but i’ll be by your dorm around 7, ok?”

Riley sighed internally.

“Ok! I’ll start tidying up haha.”

When Jade had left, Riley entered her dorm room and fell onto her bed. 

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

When Jade had gotten on the bus on their way back to Atlanta, Riley knew something was wrong. And she would not let that wrongness stand. She put others before her. That's how she’s always done. So when she gave her support to Jade in her room those days ago, she had considered the problem solved. But then there was no one else she could focus on but herself.

Riley never had to focus on herself before. It was always for someone or something else. Now, when she was left alone with her thoughts, it was nothing but clouded shadows.

She stood from her bed and looked around, making sure the coast was clear. She then reached under he bed and took out a slim box. She retracted one of the objects.

The door swung open, Jade walking in speaking. “Tutoring was cancelled today, so I thought I’d come by earlier! So what do you-”

Jade stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Riley holding a shaving razor to her arm. 

The only noise heard was the soft clinking of metal as it hit the floor, falling from a stunned Riley's hand.

Jade slammed the door. “NO.NO YOU DO NOT.” Jade rushed forward in the small dorm room and grabbed the box of razors from Riley’s bed, Riley lunging for them. Jade snatched them out of reach and threw them behind her. Riley looked up at Jade, and saw that she was fuming.

“Why.” The word was given not as a question, more as a command. Riley looked away.

“Why, Riley?” She still remained silent. Jade sat down next to her. “Please. Why?”

Riley turned, “Because it made me feel not worthless! Ok?! It made me feel like maybe all those people I couldn’t save didn’t die in vain. That maybe if I feel a fraction of their pain I might be able to reconcile some of the guilt I feel for choosing to save another over them. I had to run by so many people trapped under rubble of the collapsing building, having to choose who I had to save.”

Riley stood up, her face turning red.

“So many called out to me as I ran by with people draped over my shoulders. ‘Please help me.’ ‘Please I have a family.’ ‘Please save me.’ And I could have, Jade. I could have saved them if I was. Just. FASTER!” Riley Slammed the back of her fist into the wall behind her, making a sizable dent. 

“I deserve this pain! Its nothing compared to them! They gave it all and I was left over. I -”

Riley was slapped in the face by Jade, stopping her train of thought and speech instantly.

“How DARE you say you deserve pain. Do you know how many people you have saved? How many people got to go home to their family? This was your first time doing literally anything of this caliber and you start hurting yourself because it did not go how you thought it would?”

“You don’t understand I-”

“I AM NOT DONE. You know that not even All-Might can save everyone? The fact you saved over 70 people should be extraordinary. You cannot be out here judging yourself by what you haven’t done, but instead by what you have. Yes, the lives of those lost is a loss to the world. But to hurt yourself? That is to ruin their names. “

“THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!”

“PUT THAT ANGER INTO THE MEN WHO CAUSED THIS MESS, NOT THE WOMAN WHO DID HER BEST TO SAVE PEOPLE FROM IT!”

Riley was silent. Jade was breathing deeply in front of her, eyes red from tearing up.

“When you came to my home, Riley, you stopped me from… from something very bad. You made me realize that I shouldn’t be beating myself up. That's what they would want.”

Jade grabbed Riley’s hands.

“We can’t let them win. So don’t give them a win.”

[worldwide-error]

Dating or whatever it is now

Dating in 2019 has taken a tremendous turn from when our parents were dating. Since these decades are so different do we really understand what love is? I’ve been in a relationship for a year and essentially a half at this point. For context I live in New York, I just turned 19 and not only do I work, but I also am a full-time college student. Even though my age may fool you I've had my fair share of experience in the dating world. I would classify this as my first relationship like a real relationship. I had a high school boyfriend but he doesn’t really count since I never introduced him to my family, we really just blackout those 8 months from my memories LMAO. Anyways the whole point of this post is how do we know if what we’re doing is right? I be thinking I’m having the time of my life with this boy but am I too dependent on him now? I’m a Virgo so you know how important our independence is to us along with stability. He’s also a Virgo so you also know we go head to head A LOT. The relationship I personally feel is like the old ones not like these new ones where everyone fucks over each other. 

I write a lot of papers about society and from a first-hand perspective I can tell you without a doubt our generation is the most fucked up out of the rest. Teenagers addicted to nicotine, depression, and self-hate are as popular as the Kardashians what happened to us that this is our lives. It is amazing that I feel like I’m going to thru it just as everyone else is though. Do you think our generation is just more vocal than the others? Like did our parents feel the same way as us growing up but in their society it was deemed as weak? Being perceived as weak is truly the worst thing anyone can tell me. If someone ever called me weak I would have to reevaluate my life. I take incredible pride in being able to take care of myself and provide for myself just because i don't know when you’re a girl you kinda have to prove everything u do. I'm not complaining but I’m just saying our generation has popularized things that shouldn’t be popularized because if we have the biggest voice of the century and if we use it the wrong way we would be joker instead of batman. 

[un-tide]

Rupi Kaur Taught Me DIY

(TW for mentions of sexual assault.)

Last year, I wrote a short essay on why I hate Rupi Kaur. Not just why I hate her work, but why I hate her as a writer. Maybe even as a person. I had never (and still haven’t) met this woman, which should have been my first clue that there was something underlying these emotions that probably wasn’t fair to her. But I was comfortable in my hate, even more so when I could articulate everything that was wrong with her in a way that was logical and academic and had nothing to do with me—so much so that I was unable to see that my disdain for this woman did, in fact, have almost everything to do with me.

Growing up as a young girl whose first love was books, I found myself torn between worlds. On my top shelf, I kept some of my favorite series—Percy Jackson, Pendragon, Artemis Fowl. These were books my parents approved of, holding imaginative, fantastical worlds and morals of bravery and friendship. Under my bed were my other favorites—the ones my parents didn’t approve of—The Clique and The Princess Diaries. These kinds of stories were adventurous in a way that was relatable to me, with the struggles of teenage friendship and the perils of mean girls, but they did skip over many of the lessons I got from my more “gender-neutral” books, and they did not have fantastical or imaginative worlds unless they came with a borderline-abusive romance.

Early on, I learned another kind of lesson: as a woman, I will constantly have to choose between books that tell stories that are inspiring and creative, and books that tell stories about people like me.  

When I first heard about a young, South Asian, feminist, second-generation immigrant woman who wrote openly about her identity and her story, it was if my childhood prayers had been answered. It seemed too good to be true—I am also a young, South Asian, feminist, second-generation immigrant woman. If I was ever going to find a poet I could relate to, Rupi Kaur was it. Finally, there was poetry being written by people like me for people like me, and I didn’t have to choose between quality and relatability anymore. Imagine, then, how it felt to open up one of her most famous books and read this: “how is it so easy for you/ to be kind to people he asked / milk and honey dripped from my lips as i answered / cause people have not /been kind to me.”

I was dumbfounded. Surely I had picked up the wrong book. This was a book of 2014’s 25 saddest tweets, and the #1 New York Times bestseller Milk and Honey was somewhere else. Where was the symbolism? The wordplay? The rhyme or meter? Even the line breaks had no apparent significance. And above those basic elements of poetry—where was the deeper meaning? It’s a sad conversation, but one that, rather than sitting in a book of supposed poetry, would fit better on a teenager’s Tumblr post, or somewhere else you could read it very quickly, frown a little, and move on. And I did just that.

I returned the book to the stack of fifty just like it, and from Rupi Kaur's Milk and Honey I re-learned that same lesson I learned as a child: good books do not tell your story. Move on.

I won’t pretend that my knowledge of poetry comes from more a few college classes, but if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that understanding a poem takes time. Poems hold secrets—alternate meanings and obscure allusions—that you can only discover when you read them again and again. Their meanings can be argued and refuted using symbols and allusions to books written one-hundred years earlier and a comma placed here instead of there. Sure, over-embellished poetry sometimes does hide more than it reveals, especially to the young or less educated reader, but Rupi Kaur’s work strips an idea of all layers beneath its surface.

Some call Kaur’s style accessible, but I call bullshit. Accessibility is about delivering complex concepts while breaking the barriers that typically surround them, whether those barriers be based on education, class, gender, sexuality, or race. Tossing a sad thought you had in the shower to a young audience does not break barriers to feminist or survivor literature of any kind.

On a personal level, I do hold some empathy for Kaur. Her poems attempt to address difficult topics like heartbreak and abuse, and I imagine she has been through some trauma that many women are familiar with, myself included. The meaning of the poem I read in the bookstore was not lost on me: sometimes people are kind because they are already acquainted with cruelty. But simply stating something true or shocking does not make it well-crafted, and it certainly does not make it poetry. Much of Kaur’s success comes from stating the obvious in the most plain way possible, taking a complicated idea and hollowing it out into a pretty painted shell.

To put it simply, Kaur’s work is shallow. It seems to lack effort as much as it does depth, and despite her education, it displays little mastery of imagery or symbolism or poetic style. It is less poetry than it is bite-size food-for-thought possibly conceived in a trendy hipster cafe and posted on Instagram as the caption for an aesthetically pleasing but disappointingly grimace-inducing over-sweet cup of milk and honey. Kaur touches the surface of ideas before shying away like a cat from water, and in doing so fails to teach her audience of young women and girls—many of whom might have fallen in love with poetry had they not been alienated by mainstream misogynistic and white-centric classics—how to analyze and write complex ideas that are pivotal to their recovery, their self-esteem, and their survival.

If my school had taught more female-friendly literature when I was in high school, I wouldn’t have begun to hate reading. The books we read that actually included women were traumatic at worst and voyeuristic at best, and my teachers seemed oblivious, perhaps simply starstruck by the stubbornly unwavering fame and brilliance of the classics. Nevermind that 1984 featured a protagonist with a burning desire to rape the book’s only notable female character. Nevermind that the sexual liberalism in Brave New World had my elderly, white, male substitute teaching us that the World State was—despite its female citizens’ complete lack of reproductive autonomy and a suspicious absence of female Alphas—a feminist society. Nevermind that The Handmaid’s Tale, despite actually being a feminist novel, depicts a misogynistic hellscape a little too realistic for comfort. 

The older I grew, the more it seemed that very few of the classics were written with women in mind, and almost none of them seemed to be written for women’s benefit, education, or—god forbid—enjoyment.

Disappointed by the classics, I returned to popular fiction as a teenager, desperate for a story with a protagonist I could relate to, or at the very least did not want to strangle every time they opened their mouth. At my local flea market, which I frequented every first Saturday of the month, I had come across a well-stocked used-book stall. While making my way through The Princess Diaries series dollar by dollar, I stumbled upon a book that I can only imagine was placed in flea market stall that day by the Devil himself just so he could have a laugh: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I won’t give away any spoilers, but I’ll give you one guess what happens halfway through. I am not ashamed to say I stopped reading anything other than The Princess Diaries for some time.

I wish I could say my high school experience was unique. There is a profound need for contemporary literature and poetry that not only does not alienate women, but caters to us specifically. We deserve to read books that do not hurt us more than we already are hurting, that address our trauma but don’t weaponize it against us. We deserve to witness other women powerfully and passionately explore and understand our shared experiences and shared pain. We deserve to learn how to explore these ideas for ourselves. The feminist subjects of Rupi Kaur’s poetry deserve nuance, because the more precisely we are able to articulate our experiences and ideas and traumas, the more understood they—and we—become. Much like I was as a young child, the girls devouring Rupi Kaur’s work are still scrambling for crumbs. She had the opportunity to feed a generation of girls starved for poetry free of white men’s hunger, and she didn’t.

Kaur, at first, seemed to me to be nothing new in a world of successful yet seemingly talentless women who continuously fail and profit off of the next generation of starving girls (the Kardashian-Jenner clan comes to mind). But only on my own journey to becoming a writer did I come to understand that Rupi Kaur might be different, that she might actually be trying very hard--that she might be hiding something. As a reader, I never understood that a fact that I am painfully aware of now: writing makes you vulnerable. The more I wrote, the more I began to realize that what I perceived as lack of depth was, perhaps, a terribly relatable inability to be open.

It’s what I hate the most about writing—displaying yourself to the world when your childhood scrapes are still scabbing over and everyone is certain to see under your skin. I’ve never been good at being vulnerable, which makes me a reluctant writer on a good day and a liar on the rest. People do weird things when they’re afraid, like write mediocre poetry or channel all their anger at the world towards someone they’ve never met. I could not do, or at least have not yet done, what I ask of Rupi Kaur. What would I tell her, I imagine, if I ever met her? I could deflect: “Hey Rupi, your poetry about your suffering needs some work.” Or I could be honest: “Please, Rupi, tell my story for me.”

Because isn’t that what I always wanted: a story just like mine, read to me like a mother would read to her child at bedtime, a story about people like me that teaches me I’m not alone. I had waited for representation so long that when it finally arrived, it felt like a betrayal when it fell so far short. I don’t hate Rupi Kaur because her work is bad—I hate her because her work is bad and there are almost no other options. I hate her because she is my generation’s standard for how to write stories like hers and mine, and it does not do them justice. I hate her because I wanted her to do what I didn’t yet have the courage to do myself.

Maybe I’m projecting; maybe Rupi Kaur is exactly as shallow as her poetry suggests and no amount of openness will make it better. It doesn’t change that I expected someone else to be the writer of my story simply because we have a lot in common. I wasn’t fair to Rupi Kaur when I wrote my 300-word-long-rant about theintolerable injusticeshe was inflicting on young women and girls—which I posted, and I’m aware of the irony, on Tumblr and Instagram. I placed the burden of my vulnerability on her shoulders.

I stand by my criticisms of Rupi Kaur, but I also owe her some gratitude, because she taught me another lesson: I can’t rely on other people to tell my story, or stories about people like me. I can’t rely on other people to fill a void in literature or poetry or to fix any other problem I insist needs solving.

If you want something done right, or even done at all, sometimes you just have to do it yourself, even if—especially if—that means opening up about experiences you’d rather keep hidden. If Rupi Kaur is any indication, the bar for young women’s contemporary poetry and literature is evidently on the floor, which, on the bright side, means that any woman who has the courage to openly, honestly, and vulnerably tell her own story—even if she gets ripped to shreds by mean girls like me—will still be doing all of us a favor.

[maptoourescape]

Hi 😉 I was wondering what was your take on Heidi being on tour with the guys and everything that happened since she joined them aka fans reporting she has this cold face when watching the show and the lack of interaction between her +her parents and the twins’ mother? I really loved your piece on the summercamp last year I thought you nailed it, thank you in advance and have a nice day/evening/afternoon 😊

Hey there!Oh man anon, where to begin? You’re in for a treat, because I think I’llunleash much more than what you’ve bargained for, for the simple fact that Ihaven’t really ranted out everything that I wanted on other social mediaplatforms lol. I guess I should start off by saying that my opinion on thismatter is still unaltered. If anything, the points I have made within my SummerCamp essay seem to only get more and more probable with each passing day.Whatever little hope I might have been harboring that maybe (by some miracle)I’m wrong – that she is actually nota rotten individual – just keeps disappearing with every horrendous attitudeshe decides to present next. And boy oh boy is she set out to be horrendous.Big yikes.Let’s get one thing out of the way first, (because some people still can’t grasp this concept, and Iwant to clarify it before I dwell any further): the reason why I’m bothered byKlum is not because of any pettyjealousy people claim I must be feeling towards her. I feel like it’s sounbelievably superficial and sexist to claim that – what is saidbetween the lines – I “must dislike this specific vagina, simply because I wantits rightful penis”. Literally what the fuck? I quite honestly wouldn’t touchTom with a ten foot pole (no offense to him, but I really would not). Evenentering their personal bubble for pictures makes me feel uncomfortable,because I don’t want to be perceived as one of those predators who give thewhole fandom a bad name after they dry hump them as soon as they’re in their radius,so there’s that. What I feel towards this band is just so pure, and so muchabove any petty groupie fantasy others try to project onto me, that theargument of “me being jealous” makes literal bile rise up my throat. It’s revoltingto me. Not only me, but to many other people as well – people who also don’tfit the mold of what those “higher-moral-ground-wannabees” claim they are.The reason why a shit ton of people dislike Klum is very simple: we all see thesame red flags rising when we observe her attitude. It most definitely hasnothing to do with anyone’s attraction towards Tom himself. I just cannotcomprehend this stupid narrative. Most of the fandom doesn’t consist of twelveyear old girls anymore, so give me a break (albeit I personally never thirsted after any of them at all, ever, so whatever).Some people who see that Heidi’s problematic are gay, by the way. Some peoplewho see it are happily married. Some even have children for crying out loud.Are they all jealous too, according to that narrow point of view?Noticing someone’s reappearing toxicity – especially when it is masses of very different people all noticingthe very same destructive behavioralpatterns – is simply concerning. Yeah, I know the popular counter argument is “why should you care then, youhave no ties to him?” Well of course that’s true. No, I’m not the band’simmediate family. I’m not their friend and neither do I work for them. But themen of this band have had a huge impact on my life, and their art has helped methrough so much shit over the years of my adolescence and beyond. If notanything else, it feels fair to thenat least be honest about when I think they might be getting into some deep shitthemselves. An act of reciprocated gratefulness and respect, if you will. Thekind of “you helped me, and now, even though I can’t exactly help you per sebecause we are strangers, the least I can do is to be sincere in my thoughts ofgenuine concern”. I mean, look, I said it once, and I’ll say it again: at the end of the day, marryingsomeone like Heidi is Tom’s choice to make – or well, in my opinion and forlack of a better wording, his own mistakein the making. I’m pretty much the last person in the world who can changethat, and don’t worry, I’m aware of that. And sure, at the end of the day, it’snot me who’ll have to live with her. It’s not me who’s gonna suffer the immediate consequences of it.But although it’s not going to be me ending up being potentially hurt, Tom’sproblems will, by default, extend to damage anyone who ever cared for him aswell. And we, as a whole (well, most of us), do care for this fucking band. Goddamn we do. Just like we cared whenBill had to get his surgery; just like we cared whenever any of them had a caraccident; just like we cared when Gustav got into that bar fight all those yearsago; just like we cared when we saw them being stalked and burning out in frontof our very eyes – just in the same way, we care now, because we see someonewho appears to be absolutely venomous protrude not only their personal lives, but the band as a concept as well.The very same band that was always a sort of escapism resort that EVERYONE (theband AND the fans) could always come to when everything “in the real world” wasgoing astray – now being quite literally invaded by outside forces withoutfacing any proper resistance.Honestly, at this point, I should probably stop being so surprised by whateverHeidi Klum does next. But I’m apparently too naïve, or maybe just simply toogood natured to actually expect half of the disgusting things she does. I couldhonestly keep my mouth way more shut if it was just a “behind the scenes Tomthing”. As said – it’s his mistake to make, and even though I’d still roll myeyes way into the back of my head at the lack of brain functioning he’sexemplifying on a daily basis, I’d still be able to not be this vocal about it if it were just a “Tom thing”. The problem isthough – this isn’t just a Tom thing any longer (if it ever was at all). Thefact that I’m furious and ranting about it left and right openly is because Tokio Hotel lets Tom’s girlfriend involveherself into the band’s affairs. That’s the reason I even wrote the entireSummer Camp Essay, and I see now that it was a sort of foreshadowing of graverthings to come.Can you believe it, I’m finally getting to your point lol. Now let us address thesestupidities one by one.Tokio Hotel may have started as a hobby, something that all four of them lovedto do above everything else and “just happened to turn into their job”. But atthe end of the day, a dream job is still a job. I’m pretty damn sure it isfrowned upon in any other setting or situation to just drag your “significantother” to your workplace, and let them effectivelyinterfere with your job policies. Seeing how the nature of their job is, I’mhonestly fine when it comes to family/girlfriends/friends or such visitingtheir concerts. If I would be in their shoes, I most definitely would have donethe same. Pretty sure most anyone would – who doesn’t want to share their art not only with strangers, but withpeople who are closest to them in life as well! I know I would! What I would never, though, is stoop as low as tobreak my professionalism and have my family/girlfriends/friends or such 1. SIGN MY DAMN POSTERS.Not only did she do that, she also clearly provocatively and without anyreasoning whatsoever signed the poster with hissurname and not even her own, even though she clearly keeps on signing hernormal everyday autographs with her “established” name. Anyone who has thebrain capacity to count to ten can understand that such is done for thepurposes of drama, and portrays nothing less but a toxic possessiveness of ateenage girl who needs to “mark her territory”. And such is coming from a supposedlyestablished 46 year old woman. The behavior exhibited just leaves mespeechless. And I am all the more concerned when I see people defending such occurrenceswith the adjectives of “cute,” stating furthermore that it’s “not a big deal”.How about you tell that this “isn’t a big deal” to a potential someone who wasonly on a VIP once, when this is the sort of memory they’d be left with at theend of the day?Of course some of us – a lot of us – come to the gigs more than once, andactually have a shit ton of VIP packages. But not everyone is that lucky, andnot everyone is willing or able to spend that much money on the band. It isdistressing for me to think that someone might have gotten this one opportunityto meet them, but then at the end of the day took home a poster that was signedby, quite honestly, a random person who has nothingto do with the band or their own personalexperience with the four men. It is beyond my understanding how the members canclaim to be oh-so-professional, but then let something like this slidecompletely.Half of me honesty hopes that she’s done it in secret. At least in that versionof the events, the band would have a “redeeming way out”, seeing how it wouldhave been done behind their backs. Somehow though, I kind of doubt that is thecase. And that’s what honestly gets me pressed the most. The sheer thought thatthey’d be willing to – in any way, shape or form – give a complete outsider any sort of autonomy when it comes to“band things”. And it would be even worse if they’d find such to be “funny” atthe end of the day, if we ever addressed the matter with them.See, realizing that Heidi Klum is toxic is one thing, because (newsflash) Idon’t care about Heidi Klum. It is,though, entirely something else when the guys let her maneuver her way insidethe band. Even if manipulated into it, they still most likely seem to give herthe freedom of doing almost whatever the fuck she wants, and to think of them – the people I actually do care about – to be this misguided, and this unprotective when it comes to all matters Tokio Hotel… see that’s what actually gets me going.At this point, it really feels as though Klum’s just testing her limits to seehow far she can go before someone within the band circle starts to question hermotives, and tell her that she maybe shouldn’t get too involved with their business(not that it matters, because people like her have a prepared victim card theycan play at any time, so she’d get out of it as soon as she notices she’sreached said limit by claiming to be but a poor soul who meant no harm).Apparently, she can push fairly far though, seeing how2. HER KIDS WERE BROUGHT ON STAGE.This one seemed to have stirred up even some heated Pro!Heidi people out there,and albeit I’m sad it took this long for people to realize there’s muchfishiness attached to the smell she emits, it was still good to see it was awake-up call at least for some. Now whoever’s defending this is, in my book, honestly just gross. It would be one thing ifthe kids would express the wish to go on stage themselves, but judging by theirreactions – so from just standing there awkwardly not knowing what to do, tostraight up hiding from the crowd – didthey really? But you know what, scratch that, for the sake of theargument, let’s pretend no adult person is as disturbed as to suggest such athing themselves (cough)… Even if this wasa longing of the kids’ own free will… who in their right fucking mind wouldever allow that? Who thought itwould be a brilliant idea to throw on stage some (give or take) ten year olds,only to be screamed at by a mass of people in a language they do not understand, being surrounded bypeople they do not know. Not tomention no-one could have predicted thepublic’s reaction??? Of course the general consensus is that it would becompletely disgusting to boo at actualkids, because at the end of the day, none of what the adults surroundingthem do is their fault at all… but it stillcould have happened. And given how everyone most likely knows that Klumisn’t really popular in our community, shouldn’t they have thought about the repercussionsof their actions before putting sucha plan in gear? This lack of brain function is completely beyond me.Whether it was the kids themselves asking for it and no one rejected them;Tom’s idea for wanting to please Heidi; Heidi’s own messed up concept; orsomething else entirely… my question is still all the same: how about someone thinks of the children’s wellbeing,instead of parading them around like circus animals? Yeah, people mostly complained about this because the VIP’s were coldly toldoff as secondary as soon as the kids got involved. But I just wanted to saythis honestly goes well beyond the argument of “people paying a 1000€ to beable to have the best day of their lives, only to be told they have literallyno priority above the kids who were there out of what seemed to be pressurefrom Heidi Klum to get the spotlight she so desperately thinks she keeps lacking”.It’s not just about money. It’s about so much more than just money. To prove a point and for the sake of this essay though, I’ll still bring thisother argument up too:Look, I am of a firm belief that buying a VIP buys you – first and foremost – anexperience, and only then (assecondary) the contents of whatever the package one chooses to do includes. Andexperiences as such can obviously vary. Sometimes you’ll see the band be in agood mood, but sometimes you’ll get the vibe that they seem kind of down and uninterested.Honestly, all of those are fine by me personally. Even if I meet the band onone of their “down” days, I’d still find it beyond interesting, because Irealized at the very beginning already that I’m investing in something that iswell beyond just “a purchase,” and has many differentials in its equation – asmany as there are human emotions. You can’t exactly purchase good mood, and so youcan’t ever expect everything to be perfect and smooth, because you’re buyingyourself quality time with real life, actual, flesh and blood people, who canexperience all and every single emotion you toocan experience yourself: from despair to complete euphoria and everything inbetween. I think most people actually realize this and don’t mind it too much if theguys are moody – mostly because they rarely show it anyway, keeping up theirprofessional mask and making sure everyone is enjoying their experience to thefullest. That’s honestly such a tough part of their job, and we probably don’ttell them enough how much we appreciate that they do their best all the time to“meet everyone’s expectations,” even when they could honestly just say “fuckit”. Only… they kind of said their deepestand ugliest “fuck it” when they allapparently in unity agreed, that they have no problem if some individualsinterfere with their fans’ experience. Individuals to whom the concept of beingthere literally meant little to nothing. Because it’s not like thoseindividuals were on stage with their four favorite people in the whole world.Because those individuals haven’t been saved by their music again and again for15 years straight. Because to those individuals – even if they ended up havingfun (which they actually did not, so that’s even WORSE) – standing there wouldonly mean two minutes of semi-fun and euphoria, while to some of the fans,those two minutes would mean the wholeentire world, an experience they would never forget and always cherish deeply.So no matter how you take it, this is about way more than just one grand. It’sabout what the band was conveying to its fandom when they allowed this tohappen. It’s about how it felt as though they themselves don’t grasp theconcept of how much this means to some people. Of being ignorant on how much ofan impact they truly had on us in the years of our lives that we devoted tothem. About marking a clear void between the two fractures of “us” and “them,”putting themselves on a higher pedestal. Not to mention the fractures seem tobe opening up in between themselves as well, with other3. PEOPLE THAT ARE CLOSE TO THE BAND NOT BEING THAT ACCEPTING OF KLUM EITHERThe following includes both my personal experience, as well as experiences offriends that have been to concerts with and without me though the entire tour.While I have not seen Klum in Munich, (because I did not want to see her in Munich, and didn’t bother to turn my head evenremotely, because I just wanted to enjoy my time), my friends have all told mewhat I would suspect would be the case anyway, so you’re completely right onthe cold bitch-facing throughout the concert. Klum only ever cracks a propersmile when someone pokes her to ask for a selfie, finally satisfied that she’dgotten her share of the attention she so much craves and desires. Not even forjust the gig I’ve been to, but for the rest of them that are happening rightnow – people have all been telling me pretty much the same thing, again andagain, and there’s even been videos of her during the concerts to support theseclaims. Claims of “film, bitch-face, rinse and repeat”. Occasional jump andclap to not seem too out of place, maybe, but ones that aren’t even remotelyovertaken with any sense of pride or overflowing joy.One would expect of Mrs.ObsessedWithTheSurnameKaulitz to at least sing alongwith the songs, but she can barely manage Melancholic Paradise lyrics out ofher throat. Not to be prickly now – I’m not saying that that knowing TokioHotel songs by heart would or should be an indicator of the “true love” sheclaims to be experiencing towards Tom, but seeing the contrast between her andGustav’s wife or Georg’s girlfriend in this regard is just baffling. Not evenfor the fact that the two of them don’tseem to possess an apparently unstoppable itch when it comes to oversharingtheir enthusiasm on social media, but for the pure fact that they just plainobviously don’t have to create a social media hoax in order to portray theirgenuine happiness. Such namely always clearly shines on their proud faces,while Klum is the living example of what those girls who get front row looklike, who spend literally 2 hours of their ENTIRE concert just filming Tom fromup close, because apparently having 200gb of HD thirst footage of your iphonejust means so much more to some individuals than just enjoying and feeling the actual music seep through theirveins. But I digress.I didn’t really think too much about what either side of the parenthood isdoing – like you, I have heard mixed reports on that regard, because I know forsure the both mothers got along pretty well when they visited the concert inCologne, while on other occasions, fans have reported it might’ve not been likethat at all. All in all, I’m not bothering with them a lot, because no matterwhat their perceptions of their kids’ relationship is, it doesn’t seem to methey’ll have any sort of proper influence over it. The only thing I think I canpretty confidently claim is that both of the Gs partners aren’t all too fond ofher. You always see them separate from her on the gigs they do happen to attendtogether, and I haven’t seen them interact even once on Camp where there wereplenty of opportunities for them to do so.Besides that, everyone else is honestly still a damn mystery to me. All the wayfrom Bill and Andreas, to the Gs themselves – I still have no idea if they’rereally just that dumb to not noticethe very clear toxic patterns she is exhibiting, or if they just choose toignore the matter and let it slide again and again because Tom is, as of now,pretty much untouchable when it comes to the topic of her. Anon, I’m honestly dumbfounded, when it comes to this, Ireally am. Because even though I have pretty solid theories as to how Tom endedup being in this situation he’s in, I have still yet to find explanations forothers to not point out how disturbing it all is in retrospective.My options? They’re either:a) all just as manipulated as he is,b) all really lacking in the department of any sort of emotional intelligenceorc) their hands are actually tied, as they let him ride off his inexplicable exhilaration.But let’s be honest, what are the chances that everyone is faling for her tricks? What are the chances that everyone is emotionally backwards? My bet is that at least someone is seeing what’s going on here, but they just can’t do shit because Tom is so set to be stuck in his idealism.While we’re at this “undying euphoria” of his, can you just let me quicklybarge in with a major pet peeve I’m experiencing with Tom recently? Namely thefact of how he keeps glorifying Heidi as his “one and only true love,” and “somethingthat’s never happened to me before” and all the talk about how “the happiestday of his life is yet to come”. Ex-fucking-cuse me? I love Tom’s not-all-that-quirky-little-twelve-year-old-humorpersonality he pulls sometimes, but exclaiming all that just makes him seem beyond childish. In a way that is, to mepersonally, just very unpleasant. Irealize that he might have been fucked over and hurt more than we can possibly imagine,but to claim so impulsively and nonchalantly that “this is the first time he’sever been in love,” while being in a longass relationship before and even marryingbefore is just beyond disturbing. You can never take lessons from yourpast if you don’t learn to accept it, and this gives me all the more proof thatTom never really did processwhatever has happened between him and his ex-wife (which honestly doesn’t comeas a surprise). I’m stuck between being disappointed, because I though he hadit in him to work through his demons, sad for him that he doesn’t seem to havethe ability to do any sort of soul-searching, and just plain angry that he hasthe audacity to just ignore such a huge chunk of his life as if it didn’thappen whatsoever. Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I guess I might touch up on the fact thatshe4. SEEMS TO BE RANDOMLY INTRUDING VARIOUS Q&ASWhich people surprisingly also seem to be “okay with,” simply because the Gs’partners are both also sometimes present. Well guess what, even when the othertwo are listening in to a Q&A, it really isn’t the most professional. But atleast they have the decency to notshowcase a moment that was meant to be private to 6 million people. Weunderstand, the mighty Klum is above the petty rules of the peasants, no need to keep on ruining the only possibleprivate moments fans ever get to have with the band. “But what’s beenruined? You still get your Q&A, you still get your picture, what are youcomplaining about?” I hear people ask. I mean, first of all – the picture to meis just a little extra cherry on top which I can totally live without anyway(especially if it’s a solo one, seeing how they are really pressed about group picturesthis time around, and that’s the only one actually worth having in my book). Theactual reason for which I’m buying these VIPs are the Q&As. I love to talkto the guys, and I love it when they are raw, and completely unfiltered, anduncensored, and sincere with their fans, and when their appreciation for usactually sitting there and giving them good conversations comes through. Throw in a Heidi, and what do you get? Do peoplereally think their answers wouldn’t sway from what they could have been withouther presence? Do people really think Tom would be as genuine in his answers ifshe’d be lurking from the shadows? Do people really think she wouldn’t start pullingtheir attention from fans towards her eventually if she so wished? I’ve seen ithappen once on Camp, so I’ve no doubt she’d do it again if she simply felt likeit. And that’s just purely a no-go. Let them work. It’s half an hour of a day.Let the fans have their moment with their favorite artist. Stop intrusively insertingyourself in every situation that is humanly possible of inserting yourselfinto. This fandom doesn’t care about you. Get over yourself.I bet I’ll be able to give you way more emotionally charged info in that regardafter Saturday, where she’s almost bound to make a scene, seeing how it’s herbirthday.Ah, Saturday. A thought that should genuinely excite me. A Tokio Hotel concert,a meet and greet even! Tomorrow! Precious moments with the band that I’ve beenfollowing for more than half of my lifenow. Meeting people that have inspired me to become what I am, taught methat being me is enough.And so tell me, why do I feel anxiousnesswhere there should be happiness? Whyis my first thought “oh no,” instead of “fuck yes”? Why do I just keep thinkinghow “I don’t want this to be made into a random circus about a random assperson,” and how I desperately “crave to simply enjoy my show, with my music,and my band, nothing else”. What is the reason behind me being concerned about going to a TH concertinstead of being out of this worldexcited to the point of denial as I’ve always been?Well, your answer has a name and a surname. And she’s pushing this fandomfurther away from the band, one person at a time.I won’t even go into the stealing a M&G photo and editing out the fan part.I’m exhausted. If by now people haven’t caught up on her sheer deranged stateof mind, then it’s beyond me. All I can ask of you now, anon, is to cross yourfingers for me, and hope that I end up this tour on that same high note that Iwanted it to end, even if I picked the utmost worst date to do so. And crossthem then some further, in case it all goes south and they bring her out onstage and want to make me sing happy birthday to her, making everyone feelactually obliged and required to give two flying fucks about her. Because then,I’ll need all the willpower in the world to not get drunk and just tell themoff, speaking honestly about how what they’re doing is plain unprofessional,and that I want my 4 member band back, because I never fucking signed up for a5th one.Sorry if this is too much of a mess or didn’t exactly go into any psychological-research if that’s what you were expecting. If you have further sub-questions (want me to further elaborate on the manipulative behavior maybe), or want me to have a go at specifically just the parent issue, do let me know, and I’ll be sure to give it some more thought and answer further. But right now, it just really felt good to vent, so thanks for giving me that opportunity nonnie! And thank you for appreciating my posts!

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

More women are running for president than ever. But there’s no one way to do it. This is the first in a series exploring the way that the women candidates in the 2020 race are navigating questions of identity, sexism and public critique.

“I fully intend to win this election��� is the kind of line that seems a bit redundant coming from a person running for president.

But when Sen. Kamala Harris said it only a minute or so into her stump speech in Keene, New Hampshire, in late April, it felt like a polite retort to the question of whether she would be “electable” in a head-to-head contest against President Trump. America hasn’t seen too many women run for president, let alone a mixed-race woman, and Harris finds herself dealing with a powerful political irritant: answering the incessant question of whether the nation is ready for a president “like” her.

For months, polls have found that Democratic primary voters value a candidate’s ability to beat Trump regardless of whether they share that candidate’s ideology. And polls have found that former Vice President Joe Biden is perceived as having the best chance to beat Trump, even among those who don’t support Biden’s candidacy. Harris has remained in the top tier of candidates, with strong fundraising and decent small donor contributions, and her standing in the polls has remained steady. Since Trump was elected, though, narratives in the popular media have focused on the idea that Democrats must win back the Obama-Trump voter, giving outsize attention to white, male candidates. In such an environment, Harris’s race and gender are eyed as both a prize — another candidate could try to leverage her identity by naming Harris as his running mate, trying to capture the large number of black and brown women who tend to vote for Democrats — and a liability.

The 2020 race is not the first time that Harris has had to confront the “electability” question. And she’s responding to it now as she ever has: by emphasizing her policy and career bona fides above all else.

Identity is a well-worn line of questioning for Harris, and she sometimes seems to have little patience for overly personal tangents about her personal travails as a mixed-race woman in America.

In a 2017 interview with Harris, David Axelrod, a former adviser to President Barack Obama, interjected as the newly elected senator talked about her decision to become a prosecutor: “I want to get to that and your career in the law, but I just want to hear a little more about your folks and about the sort of cross-cultural upbringing and how that helped shape you,” he said, referring to Harris’s mother, who was Indian, and her father, who is Jamaican. Harris replied:

Well, you know, it’s funny, David. … But in my career, when I was district attorney of San Francisco, attorney general of California and even now as a United States senator, in each position, I was ‘the first.’ And in particular when I was DA and AG, reporters would come up to me and ask me this really original question, put a microphone in front of my face: ‘So what’s it like to be the first woman — fill in the blank, DA, AG. And I’d look at them not knowing how to answer that question, and I would tell them, ‘I really don’t know how to answer that question because, you see, I’ve always been a woman, but I’m sure a man could do the job just as well.’

You can almost see the trademark narrowing of Harris’s eyes in her answer. Her take on the personal as political often manifests itself as a recitation of past accomplishments and future plans rather than a fixation on her autobiography. Harris wants you to know she’s a doer, not a dweller. Her autobiography, “The Truths We Hold,” dispenses with the retelling of her childhood, adolescence and college years in a matter of 24 pages. The book is more the story of a career, albeit a remarkable one. It is very much a vehicle for introducing Harris’s policy thinking and her pristine résumé. Even the affecting words she writes about her mother’s death and legacy are relatively sparse — she pivots rather quickly to the problems of the American health care system, the opioid crisis and racial disparities in patient care.

When Harris ran for attorney general in California, she confronted some of the same electability questions she’s being forced to respond to in her 2020 presidential campaign.

Al Seib / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

Longtime friend Debbie Mesloh, who worked with Harris during her time as district attorney and on her Senate campaign, said Harris’s identity as a woman and a woman of color manifests itself most clearly in how she has approached policymaking on the job. “I’ve been with her in rooms where she’s the only person of color advocating policies that look completely different from what everyone else in that room has known,” Mesloh told me. She recalled that one of the first things Harris did when she became San Francisco’s first female district attorney was instruct her team to stop the use of the term “teenage prostitute,” as a way to talk more empathetically about girls who were often victims of human trafficking. (Harris pursued reforms to human trafficking prosecutions during her time as California attorney general.) In May, Harris’s campaign announced a policy proposal for pay parity that would ask companies, rather than individual complainants, to report pay disparities between the genders

“She grew up in this environment where, yes, you’re a woman of color, you’ve had this unique experience — then therefore, what?” Mesloh said. “What is that going to mean for what you say you want to do?”

That Harris doesn’t put her personal experiences front and center runs somewhat counter to the American public’s desire to know as much as possible about the lives of women, famous and otherwise. The how-she-gets-it-done genre is crowded, and some women politicians like U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have used social media to give constituents — and everyone else — glimpses into their everyday lives. Even Hillary Clinton’s campaign started a podcast, presumably as a way to everywoman its extremely famous candidate.

“I’ve spent a lot of time with Kamala,” Jim Stearns, the campaign manager for her two district attorney races, told me, adding that she was a warm presence and “down to earth.” But, he said, “I never knew anything about her private life.” In her first campaign to be district attorney, Harris was running as the first woman of color for the position. “She usually frames things within issues, so it’s not necessarily about herself,” Stearns said. The campaign manager for her attorney general races, Brian Brokaw, said much the same thing. “Her identity is her identity, but that’s not how she runs,” he said. “She wants to be judged for what she believes in and what she’s done.”

The “electability” question that Harris now faces — a dubiously framed debate in the eyes of some — is also one that dogged her in her early California races. Brokaw said that during Harris’s 2010 attorney general campaign, skepticism around her candidacy came even from friendly corners. “I remember having a conversation with someone I won’t name, but at the time, he was a prominent state legislator, and he said, ‘I like Harris, I think she’s a great DA, and she’s got a bright future, but I don’t think she can win because I agree with her too much.’ And the point he was making was as a progressive himself, there was no way that someone who was a black woman from San Francisco with a progressive record could win a job in California that had been held entirely by white men for the history of the state of California.” Harris would go on to beat Republican Steve Cooley in a close race, but only after Cooley declared victory on election night. He conceded weeks later.

In Harris’s current race, her foil is the front-runner, Biden. He hadn’t yet gotten into the race when I saw Harris in New Hampshire, but his smiling face was on the cover of Time magazine when I popped into a drugstore. Harris has chafed against Biden’s pitch that he can win back so-called Obama-Trump voters. “There has been a conversation by pundits about ‘electability’ and ‘who can speak to the Midwest,’” she told a crowd at an NAACP event in Detroit recently. “But when they say that, they usually put the Midwest in a simplistic box and a narrow narrative. And too often, their definition of the Midwest leaves people out. It leaves out people in this room who helped build cities like Detroit. It leaves out working women who are on their feet all day, many of them working without equal pay.”

Harris’s path to the White House hinges on her ability to increase turnout of core Democratic constituencies in places lost by Democrats in 2016. Black turnout fell across the board in the last presidential election, including in key areas of “blue wall” states like Michigan with high black populations. That Harris is a mixed-race woman could, allies argue, be her greatest electoral strength, not a weakness. “This moment in time when we really see, especially within the Democratic Party, people looking at and seeing the power of black women,” Mesloh said, “has probably been the first time that there’s really been that recognition.”

In Keene, people seemed cautiously optimistic about Harris. Donna Doherty told me that she agreed with everything Harris had to say. “My only fear is that I think some people in our country aren’t ready to vote for a woman,” she said. Doherty’s friend, Sandy Thibodeau, was similarly complimentary: “She speaks very well, she’s very calm. A woman, unfortunately, needs to be.”

While Harris spoke, I found myself at pains to notice how voters reacted to her. People tended to call her “Kamala” rather than “senator” when they addressed her, but I couldn’t detect much else that was radically different from any other event in a far-too-long presidential campaign. At one point, in the middle of her stumping, I caught sight of Harris’s husband, Douglas Emhoff, who had slipped into the back of the crowd. He shook his head in disbelief as she called out some gun control policies as too lax in one part of the speech and then looked around to see how others had reacted. For a moment, I was struck by how strange it must be to see a room full of people size up your spouse. And watching us — voters, journalists — watch her seemed as apt a metaphor as any for modern “electability” politics, 2020 included. The chief concern seems not to be personal belief, but concern for the personal beliefs of others: “some people in our country aren’t ready to vote for a woman”; “I don’t think she can win because I agree with her too much.”

Harris, for one, seemed confident when she stopped to say hello to a little old lady on the way out of the event: “It’s not going to be easy, but we’re going to win.”

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01 E01 C01-05

Welcome to the first post in what a I hope is a series of thorough cultural and linguistic explanations. I’ve had a lot of fun learning about other cultures from other Skam remakes, and I’m seriously looking forward to sharing Spanish high school culture with people abroad. 

This first post was getting pretty long, so I decided to stop with clip 5. There should be a second part coming at some point. 

General notes:

All of the characters pepper their speech with discourse markers. You can read up on those at the link, but they are words and phrases that, generally, don’t change the meaning of the sentence. Some of the most typical discourse markers in English are: oh, well, now, then, you know, I mean. By contrast, these are some of the discourse markers the characters use: pues, es que, bueno, eh, a ver.

Even though they have no real value at the meaning level because they don’t change the meaning of the sentence, I have tried to include as many discourse markers as possible. The main reason I’ve done that is because the characters are teenagers, and teen slang commonly uses a lot of discourse markers (see: Valleyspeak). The second reason is that they add nuance to a scene or a character. The more chill a character is in a certain scene, the more discourse markers they will use. And vice versa.

Ciao: I have opted to translate all instances of “chao” as ciao. As in English, “chao” is an Italian loanword, which origin is ciao. “Chao” is a common usage word, in that it’s not perceived as Italian by Spanish speakers. However, the way it sounds is recognizable to English speakers as ciao. I’ve decided to keep it, instead of using something else like bye. Spanish speakers already have many other ways of saying bye, so I find it pointless to translate “chao” as something else when English speakers already understand what it means from sound alone.

As happened in the OG and many of the remakes, the characters use a lot of English loanwords. Chalk this up to American cultural imperialism. By the way, I find it strange that people have no issues with the European characters peppering their speech with English loanwords, but seem to think the Austin characters peppering their speech with Spanish loanwords is unrealistic. Texas used to be part of Mexico, for one, and for two, they use Spanish loanwords because it’s part of their upbringing, their characters, and the culture they live in. Just something I thought I should note.

The characters swear, and swear often. Spanish people of all ages swear as often as the characters in Skam do. I will get to each specific swear word as it comes up.

CLIP 1: Last day of summer vacation

Bachilller/Bachillerato: Already wrote about it on Twitter. Bachillerato, or Baccalaureate or Upper Secondary School, is a type of schooling that prepares students for university. It consists of two grades: first and second. Eva, and all the characters born in 2002, are starting Bachillerato this year.

There are five kinds of Bachillerato tracks: International, Arts, Sciences, Humanities and Social Sciences. Not every high school offers all five tracks, which is why some students will transfer to a different high school for a specific track.

Most Spanish high schools offer both the Mandatory Secondary Education (or ESO) program and the Baccalaureate program. This is why some of the characters are new to the school, while others have been going to the school for years.

“Hostia,” which I translated as shit, is an extremely common Spanish swear word. It literally means sacramental bread, as in the one used for the ritual of the Eucharist. I’m not completely sure how it evolved from a religious word to a swear word. I posted a theory on twitter that it might’ve happened when people started saying, “te voy a dar una hostia,” to mean, “I’m going to slap the shit out of you.” “Hostia,” as in the swear word, means either a hard slap on the face, or serves the same purpose that “shit” does in English.

I can’t tell wtf Eva is eating in this scene. I think it’s some kind of bread sticks, or possibly these.

CLIP 2: Boy squad two seasons early

“Mierda como un piano,” which I translated as A PILE OF SHIT, literally means, “a piece of crap as large as a grand piano.” I thought the expression I used did the trick.

“Urbanización,” the housing complex where Hugo lives, can either mean a rowhouse complex, where each house has many stories, or an apartment complex, where there are two or more apartments in each story. Either of these can feature, as a perk, a pool for the exclusive use of the residents. It’s not made clear whether Hugo’s family owns a rowhouse or an apartment.

“Se me fue la puta pinza” literally means, “the fucking clothespin slipped away from me.” Not too sure about the origin of this expression, lol. I translated it as, “it slipped out of my damn mind.”

This was the first, and so far, the only appearance of the boy squad. As far as I know, this hasn’t been confirmed anywhere, but I believe this is the boy squad we will see in season 3, should we get that far. I believe Hugo is the Magnus expy, while Dilan is the Mahdi expy. Anyway, I am a big og boy squad fan, and I really liked the boys’ dynamics in this clip. I really, really enjoy that Lucas is so loud and talks over everyone. I don’t necessarily think this is a departure from Isak. In my opinion, he’s just in a good mood in this clip, for reasons that shall become clearer as the season unfolds. He’s definitely more low-key in clip 1.

CLIP 3: Ye olde bait-and-switch

Already covered the stuff about Baccalaureate tracks. Lara transferred to this high school because they offer the Arts track, which was not offered at the school where she did Mandatory Secondary Education.

“Delegado de clase” is a concept I translated as class president, although I’ve seen other fansubs that use “delegate.” I initially wanted to use class representative, but it seemed like class president is more understandable to English speakers. I’ll go into a little more detail about this role: in Spanish schools, students are assigned to groups of about 30 kids, which remain more or less stable through every class period. We’re already familiar with this through og Skam, where Even says to Isak that he’s in 3STB. In Skam España, a character would say they are in 1ºA. 1º means first, and 2º means second. A would be the letter assigned to that specific group. Lara and other students in the Arts track will take different courses, but join the bigger group for most courses. This is the reason Lara only meets Eva at 11:30, rather than in first period.

Anyway! Unlike the United States, where the Sophomore class president will represent all Sophomores, class presidents or “delegados” only represent the lettered group they belong to. These class presidents act as a go-between students and teachers/the school. As Lucas and Lara explain, this is a job most Spanish students would rather not deal with. However, if there are two or more people in the running, it becomes a popularity contest. Therefore, if someone has a history of being an outcast at school, they might run on purpose for validation.

“Marrón” and the superlative form “marronazo” literally mean “brown” or “big brown.” I kind of suspect this word might have its origin in the color of poop, because of course. That said, a “marrón” is something annoying that you have to deal with. Hence, pain in the ass.

CLIP 4: Eva’s mom is at the hospital

I’m checking the subbed episode now, so I’m seeing some of the finetuning I did when we went from subbing clips to subbing full episodes didn’t make it to the final edit. I’ll deal with that at some point.

Anyway. Eva’s mom is most likely a doctor or a nurse. The literal translation of what she says would be, “I’m going to the hospital!” Of course, that line, as is, in English, would come across as hugely alarming, lol. The translation I eventually decided on was, “I’m going for a shift at the hospital!”

When Eva’s mom says she sees that Eva is online, she means that she can see Eva is online on Whatsapp. That means that Eva’s mom is also checking Whatsapp as she’s going out the door!

CLIP 5: Russefeiring a la española

Viri is an INCREDIBLY weird way of shortening the name Elvira. Spanish people are more likely to shorten names by using the first couple syllables in a name, not the last two. For a long while, fans were stumped as to what was Viri’s full name. Some of the guesses were Virginia and Viridiana.

That said, it’s not surprising that Viri prefers to have a cute nickname. Elvira would sound fairly plain to a teenager’s ears.  

This is as good a moment as any to deal with the “tío/tía” stuff. Translated literally, “tío” and “tía” mean uncle and aunt. We definitely use these words to refer to our actual uncles and aunts, too.  But we also, consistently and across all age groups, use them to address or refer to literally anyone. “Tío” and “tía” are fairly casual, so you’ll generally want to be peers to address someone as such, but in conversation with someone else, a Spanish person will refer to any one person as “tío” or “tía.” It can be your best friend. It can be someone you just met. It can be your teacher. It can be your boss. It can be the prime minister. It can be your mailman.

I have opted to translate the instances of “tío” and “tía” as (the, to me, gender neutral) dude, for the most part. So Jorge can call Eva dude, and it’s just a friendly way of addressing her, no other connotations. That said, there are instances where I’ve preferred to translate “tía” as girl, such as when Viri tells Lara that there are a lot of things she wants people to get involved in. I feel that there’s a nuance to that “tía” in which Viri is trying to come across as open and friendly to Lara, in a way that is specific to women wanting to be friends with other women. So, for that particular instance, I chose girl. In general, if the subs say “girl,” but you’re clearly hearing “tía,” it means that there’s a specific nuance to the dialogue that makes it relevant that the person addressed or being talked about is a woman. Otherwise, it’s dudes straight down the line.

Eva doesn’t mind being late to Maths. Slacker.

As Viri has noted, she too is a new transfer to the school. Meanwhile, it seems like Cris has gone to this school for years. At least, she seems to have her own circle of friends/acquaintances.

Class trip as substitute for russefeiring. In Spain, my experience has been that class trips are organized by the school, for all the students in a specific grade. They have designated victims, a.k.a. teachers, who travel with the students and are responsible for the well-being of hormone-ridden semi-domesticated teenage forces of nature. These trips have a set price per student, which the parents pay for. That said, the school will organize fundraising events, so that the price per student is lowered. These trips are not mandatory, students sign up for them. In my case, I went to Mallorca on a class trip when I was 14. By the time I got to Baccalaureate, neither I nor my friends were very interested in hanging out with people from our year, so we didn’t sign up.

In the universe of Skam España, it looks like students can’t give two fucks about class trips, and so the school has ceased organizing them. Therefore, Viri has taken it upon herself to organize a class trip, whatever it takes. I don’t REALLY mind it, but it’s definitely not how class trips work in Spain. I’m not sure to what extent parents would be comfortable having their school aged kids go off on their own somewhere. I will write more about this when we get to the meeting clips, though.  

[welcometophu]

Missed Fortunes: Self 3

Twinned Book 2: Missed Fortunes

Self 3

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Sunday is peaceful, and Carolyn’s thankful for a little quiet. Mac leaves the house early in the morning for a taekwondo tournament. Carolyn doesn’t remember where they’re heading today. She just knows that a layer of tension seems to lift from the house once she’s gone, as no one worries about Cass and Mac butting heads again.

They haven’t been arguing constantly, but things haven’t been completely normal between them either. It’s a little like living in the cold war, and everyone’s waiting for another explosion. And while Mac has assured Carolyn that it isn’t coming, Carolyn doesn’t necessarily read the situation that way.

Although Carolyn isn’t particularly good at reading people in general, so she could be wrong. She hopes she’s wrong. Still. With Mac gone, Cass spends the day in the living room, her feet tucked under herself as she reads through a book for class. Carolyn brings her own work down to join her, and the morning passes in a haze of reading through notes and trying to collate everything in a way that gives her more points to research.

It’s tempting to simple travel over to the special collections room and come back with a book so she can work in the comfort of the house, but Carolyn doesn’t want to be that person who uses her Talent to completely get around the law. Getting into the building early is bad enough, but removing books would just be wrong. Instead, she and Cass walk over to the library after lunch so that Carolyn can work there, while Cass keeps her company. Carolyn has no idea what project Cass is working on, but it doesn’t seem to matter as they both work silently.

When they head back to the house, Cass nearly walks into Soledad as she comes out, Trish close behind.

“Hey, we’re just heading over to Teas Please to get something to eat,” Trish calls out. “Since we don’t have a formal dinner this weekend, we figured we’d do something fun tonight.”

Serina’s on shift. Carolyn knows because Serina pauses to text periodically, and sends funny stories about the things people order or the strange stories she overhears in the restaurant. But Trish and Soledad… Carolyn isn’t sure she wants to barge in on any big/little sister bonding time. She glances at Soledad, uncertain.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Soledad encourages. “We’ll make notes for ideas on what we can cook next time it’s our turn.”

“None of us are good cooks,” Carolyn points out. “That’s why we eat a lot of pasta for formal dinners.” It’s true. She remembers her freshman year, when one of the seniors was a History major, specializing in food history, and was an amazing cook. Every four weeks they’d have a great meal, something different every time.

The rest of the time, it’s usually macaroni and cheese or some other form of pasta. It’s easy to make enough for an entire house that way.

“It’s always Teas Please, isn’t it?” Cass says dryly. “But it sounds better than ordering pizza. I’m in.”

Trish glances at Cass, then at Carolyn, and shrugs. “Let’s go.”

There’s a light snow falling as they walk over, and Soledad holds out her hands, catching the flakes on her mittens. “I know you all hate it, but I still love snow. I wish it snowed more.”

“Nikita accidents aside, it’s been a mild winter,” Carolyn agrees. When they’ve had anything more than flurries, the storms have been bad, but she’s fairly certain that every single one of them was caused by Nikita.

“And they say global warming’s a lie,” Cass mutters. She pulls her phone from her pocket, swipes to look at something, then shoves it away again.

“You okay?”

Cass smiles sweetly. “I’m fine. Trish, Soledad, did you have a good weekend? I’ve been buried in reading for my modern women’s lit course. Which is actually a good class—we’ve been following female identifying authors writing any time in the last hundred years, and comparing and contrasting tropes and ideology.”

“I was actually looking at that class, but you have to be a junior or a senior to get in, I heard.” Soledad’s brow furrows. “How did you get in as a sophomore?”

“I explained that I wanted to take it early for my Psychology major,” Cass says. Her voice is lighter now, warming to the topic rather than simply being polite. “The way the class looks at how women write—and how their work is received—is more than just literature. It’s a sociological and psychological look at how we perceive and present our view differently.” She glances over, gestures at Carolyn. “You’d probably love it.”

Carolyn can’t deny that, but she also can’t think when she’d fit it in her schedule with only one year to go, and a thesis to do in that time.

“I’d hate it,” Trish says mildly. She pulls open the door as they arrive at Teas Please. “I love looking at how people think, but I hate dissecting things people wrote. I mean, I write music—I know that every writer puts meaning into their words. But I don’t think we can really know what someone else meant unless we ask them. It’s like how sometimes I write a song, and when it gets popular, everyone thinks I meant something else entirely. Readers and listeners find what they want in words, not necessarily what was put there.”

“That’s part of what we talk about, as well as how the perceptions of literature are different depending on who’s reading, and when they’re reading,” Cass says. “Which is why it’s so interesting. A teenager in the fifties would’ve read something completely different than how we read it today.”

Carolyn tunes them out as they go on, Soledad jumping in periodically. There’s a short wait at the hostess station, but Carolyn doesn’t mind as she scans the restaurant. She spots Nate in his usual section toward the back. He waves and ducks into the kitchen, and a few minutes later Serina emerges and waves cheerfully.

She carries a tray of drinks and pauses at two tables to drop them off and reassure her customers that she’ll be back momentarily for their orders. Then she approaches Carolyn, smiling happily. “Did you come to break up the monotony of my shift?” Serina asks. “I get a break soon. I could come visit you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Carolyn agrees. She’d ask the others, but the conversation has shifted to discussing some book that she’s never read, and she doesn’t want to interrupt.

Serina looks away, then reaches for menus. “Come with me. Nate’s pointing to a booth in his section, so I’m going to put you there.”

Carolyn taps Trish on the shoulder, and the other three girls trail after, still discussing. When they arrive at the booth, Carolyn waits to let Trish and Cass slide into either side, so she can manage an end seat.

Serina drops the menus on the table. “Nate’ll be over to get your order soon, and I’ll be back with water for you in just a minute when I take my break. Do you want to give me your tea order?” Serina writes down their choices quickly, grins as she taps the pad with her pencil. “Perfect, I’ll be back!”

“Writing songs,” Trish says. Carolyn isn’t sure what she’s responding to, as she apparently returns to an earlier conversation. “Or well, one song, and some music. I was working with Thorne today, because he wanted an opinion that wasn’t Rory for some reason. Plus we decided a while back that we should do some collabs, so we were working on those, too. We want to blind drop an EP of just the two of us singing songs about completely random things—totally innocuous things, like ice cream, or flowers—and see what people do with it. It goes back to that whole question of interpretation versus intention. We’ve got reputations. It’ll be interesting to see how that affects what people hear in our music.”

“Aren’t you afraid everyone will think you’re sleeping with him?” Soledad asks, and Trish brushes off the question with a wave of her hand.

“Everyone here already does. I’m pan and poly, he’s pan and poly, they figure that means we obviously had sex. Which, no.” Trish wrinkles her nose, leans on her elbows on the table. “He’s just not what I’m looking for. I don’t know what I’m looking for lately.”

Carolyn meets her gaze, and Trish looks down. Carolyn’s fairly certain that’s a lie, but she figures that Trish isn’t ready to talk about Sera to anyone else.

It’s strange being the only person who knows about something. Or probably the only person; it’s possible Trish talked to someone else. This is not normal for Carolyn.

Serina reappears with Nate right behind her. She sets down four pots of tea, nudging the correct one in front of each person, and keeping a fifth for herself. Nate pushes mugs across the table, along with silverware.

“Is it okay…?” Serina gestures to the bench next to Carolyn, and Carolyn squeezes closer to Cass to give Serina room. “Thanks,” Serina says, cradling her mug in her hands.

Carolyn smells chocolate, and there’s a thin sheen of cream on the top, as if Serina’s already licked away a mound of whipped cream. Carolyn was hungry when they started walking over, and her stomach growls at the scent. When Serina grins, Carolyn flushes. “It smells good,” she admits.

“Taste,” Serina orders, holding the mug up to Carolyn’s lips. “It’s not searingly hot; I like my cocoa a little cooled.”

It’s as rich as it smells, the consistency thicker than Carolyn’s used to. “There’s melted chocolate—”

“Blended in, yes.” Serina presses her knee against Carolyn, looks over at the others. “I totally didn’t mean to interrupt. I mean, I’m just sitting here while I’m on break. I get like fifteen minutes, but I spent a few of that making myself cocoa. And I kind of still need to eat a snack, too, unless Nate’s nice enough to bring me something.” She cranes her head, tilting back as she looks for him. “Nope, he’s busy. So don’t worry, I’ll be gone soon.” She taps her knee again Carolyn’s. “Thanks for coming to visit me.”

Cass snorts softly.

“Any time one of us decides to head to Teas Please, it turns into a party,” Trish says. She pours her tea and offers the cup to Soledad to taste, and Soledad offers her own in return. They seem to be getting along better again, and Carolyn wonders if that’s because Sera has been spending time with TJ instead of Trish.

She doesn’t wish ill on Trish’s friendship, but she’s glad to see her sisterhood isn’t faltering now.

“I got a care package from my parents,” Soledad says, leaning on the table, her voice low. “It’s four bottles of homemade wine. And I was thinking I could bring it over to the house, and we could have a wine tasting one night, with just some of the sisters. My aunt and uncle are really proud of these four batches, and I’d love to be able to share.”

“I take it your parents don’t believe in the drinking age?” Cass asks, fingernails tapping against the wood of the table.

“Are you going to tell?” Trish asks just as quickly, and Cass pulls back, affronted.

“No. That was conversational. Most parents don’t seem to just give their kids alcohol.”

“My aunt and uncle own a vineyard, and we all grew up tasting wine since we were little,” Soledad explains. “My father wanted to work with them for a long time, but he has a talent—not a Talent, we don’t think, but who knows—for working with computers. And he really doesn’t have any kind of a nose for wine, so my uncle encouraged him to follow his passion. But we help there when we can, and we all grew up close enough that we have their wines at home all the time. I’ve been missing it, and I asked at Christmas if I could have some so… care package.”

“Never did understand why more parents don’t teach their kids how to handle alcohol,” Trish says, her accent thickening softly. “All my friends never had a drop unless they stole a six pack from their folks, and they all thought it was this big deal to get hammered and drive around like fools. Momma said she didn’t raise her kids to drink or do drugs, but that hasn’t helped—”

“What?” Serina asks, her smile falling away when Trish looks at her.

“My older sisters Patsy’s an alcoholic, and Momma doesn’t know,” Trish says quietly. “We’re close as hell—Momma’s two bookends—but I don’t feel that need to drink. But Patsy started when she was on the road, and she’d never had it before, and next think she knew she was drinking herself under the table, no help required. She’s on the wagon now, but she says sometimes it’s hard, especially after she comes home. Momma’s got a strict no alcohol policy at home, though. Just like her strict no magic policy.” Trish turns her hand palm up, like maybe they can see the way her Talent plays across her skin.

Soledad’s brow furrows. “Trish, can I ask a weird question?”

“Sure. Might not have an answer,” Trish admits.

“Are you and your sister both named Patricia?”

It’s funny, because Carolyn’s never thought of that, and she’s been friends with Trish since freshman year. Cass laughs into her drink, and Serina’s eyes go wide.

“Whoa, really?” Serina asks. “I thought that was like this total fictional stereotype, having a family with the kids all named the same thing.”

“It’s just me an Patsy,” Trish says easily. “Patsy was already a teenager when I was born, and there’s like six other kids between me and her. She was all rebellious, and Momma asked what she had to do to get Patsy to help out around the house instead of leaving. Patsy said name the baby after her, so that’s what Momma did. Then Patsy left anyway, went out on tour without even graduating high school.”

“You don’t sound upset by that.” Soledad sounds bewildered. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“Because sometimes family leaves,” Cass mumbles. She pulls her phone out, looks at it, then turns it upside down on the table.

“She came back,” Trish says firmly. She reaches for Soledad’s teapot and pours herself a cup. “She was there more than not when I was twelve, and she stuck around and made sure I made it through high school without being stupid like her—her words, not mine. I was already writing songs, and I’d sent her some, and she helped me start recording. But she said I had to get my high school diploma first, and when she found out I liked engines, and that I was good at working with them, she said I should go to school for that, too. She pays my tuition now, even though I could afford it, and like I said, we’re close. She didn’t abandon me. She just needed to grow up a bit away from Momma. And I think maybe she had the right idea with that one.” She smiles ruefully. “I love my Momma, but sometimes I don’t really like her all that much.”

Nate appears at the table, sets down two baskets of crispy breadsticks and two ramekins of dipping sauces. “Serina, you’re needed in the back. Your section is filling up and people are going to want service, and I can’t do it all.”

“Gotcha.” Serina quickly downs the rest of her hot cocoa, then glances at everyone. “Anyone need a refill? Cass?” she says when Cass raises her hand. “Okay, I’ll put that in and bring out more tea shortly.”

“I’ll bring out more tea and you’ll go back to your section,” Nate repeats. “Go earn your own tips.” He stands tall until she hurries away, but as soon as she’s gone his shoulders slump. “She was excited to see you come in, but we’re too busy tonight for much social. Even for me.” He takes their orders and pockets his pencil and pad. “Carolyn, have you got a minute?”

It’s strangely formal for Nate, his usual cheerfulness held at bay. Carolyn rises, follows when he motions for her to head toward the narrow hall leading to the back where the restrooms are. “I’m not good at advice,” she says when they are out of sight. “No matter what anyone else might say. I’m really not.”

“I’m not looking to get advice,” Nate says softly. “I’m looking to give it. Anyone with eyes can see that Serina’s fallen hard, and I just don’t want to see her get hurt again. She wears her heart on her sleeve.”

Carolyn blinks. “What?”

“First she had that crush on me, and I had to let her down easy because as much as I adore her—and I do adore her—she’s just not my type.” Nate ticks points off on long fingers as he speaks. “Then there was Kit, and she was over the moon, and then suddenly they just weren’t together. And she didn’t seem all that upset, and I wasn’t sure why, but then I saw you.”

“Me?” Carolyn’s still not following.

“If you’re not interested, you need to let her know,” Nate says.

Oh.

“I don’t know if I’m interested,” Carolyn admits, just as quietly. “I mean, I think I am. But there’s—” She doesn’t want to get into all the details with Nate, and doesn’t really feel like he belongs that deeply in her psychology. “I don’t want to hurt her, either. I like Serina. A lot. And I’m comfortable with her, and when I needed someone to flee to, she’s who my subconscious chose.” She shrugs her shoulders, wraps her arms around her center before anything else slips free. “Take that as you will.”

Nate regards her for a long moment, then opens his arms and gestures for her to come closer. He wraps her up in a hug, holding on tight as he pats her back. “Don’t let her hurt you, either, Carolyn,” he murmurs. “Remember that you’re just as important as she is.”

Carolyn disengages slowly. “Weren’t you just giving me the shovel talk on her behalf?”

“You’re both my friends; I can give you both the shovel talk,” Nate says seriously. He keeps his hands on her shoulders, watching her. Carolyn isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he eventually drops his hands and steps back. “I need to get back to my shift; we really are busy.”

“Have you had any luck with your risks?” Carolyn asks. She follows him back out, doesn’t miss the way he checks her table. Heather and Nikita must have just arrived, standing nearby. Cass slides out of the bench, pushing past them roughly as she heads out. “Nate?”

“Hm?” He glances over at her, shakes his head. “Risks? Oh, you mean fighting off the dicks for purposes of valor. No, sorry, he remains gorgeous, straight, and absolutely unattainable. And to be honest, if I could stop thinking about him, I would, but sometimes there’s nothing sensible about crushes? Right. Me, I have a thing for a human stats machine. He isn’t even my usual type. But don’t worry, I’ll get over him soon enough. Summer’s a great time around here for flirting with tourists trying to get away from the city.”

“It’s still February,” Carolyn points out.

Nate pats her cheek. “Don’t lose hope; spring is coming. Let me get that order in before you all starve waiting for me.”

They part ways, and by the time Carolyn makes it back to the table, Heather and Nikita have taken over the other side of the bench, and Cass is gone. Rather than squeeze in, Carolyn grabs an empty chair from another table, and makes her own spot at the end. “What happened to Cass? She was all over her phone tonight.”

“She got a text and stormed out,” Soledad says, looking at the door as if she could still see Cass. “She was really upset about it.”

“Dax?”

Trish shakes her head. “Not Dax; we asked if he’s okay and she said she has no idea. He’s got a project he’s working on, since Chris is away helping out with that tournament today. She didn’t want to talk about it, froze us out like Cass does.”

But it’s not like Cass does, not anymore. Carolyn’s begun to think of Cass as someone closer to her, sometime who trusts her, and that she can trust in return. She pulls out her phone as Nik and Heather pore over the menu and flag down Nate to add their orders and cancel Cass’s.

You okay? She sends the text to Cass, not really expecting an answer.

They have their food by the time Cass replies, I’m as okay as I’m going to be. It’s nothing major. Just family drama again.

For a moment Carolyn wants to ask if it’s about her sister, but she doubts that would be true. Not now, not after all these years. So instead she replies, If you want to talk about it at all, I’m here.

She figures that Cass understands just how rare an offer that is for Carolyn. And just how truly she means it.

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[elizas-writing]

When Wish Fulfillment Fantasies Meet Reality: A Re-Examination of Twilight

 **CW/TW: The following piece discusses dating violence with brief mentions to sexual assault and self-harm.**

This year, the last Fifty Shades movie finally came and went, and as its popularity slowly morphs into a bad memory for pop culture, I’m thinking again about the fiction’s effect on reality, particularly wish fulfillment fantasies, self-insert stories, etc etc.

This train of thought began with the Twilight series after watching Lindsay Ellis’s video essay, “Dear Stephenie Meyer,” where she revisits the hatred surrounding said franchise. While it’s definitely not without serious flaws, Twilight was not really as bad as people made it out to be. And most of the criticism was solely about millions of young girls and their moms liking a thing because, what a shock, our society tends to hate anything feminine. I was definitely one of those teenage girls who wanted nothing to do with Twilight, surprising no one probably. Even though I had enough plot summary from friends to pick up the actual problems of the story, I just had fun hating it for the sake of hating it and disassociating with anything feminine because I was neck-deep in my weeaboo phase.

Cut to about seven years later, I took a Vampires in Pop Culture class and Twilight (the first of the series) was on the reading list. With a more mature mind, I sat down, read it, and yeah, it really was not as bad as I thought. Yes, Bella’s too one-dimensional, Edward’s still pretty creepy, and the dialogue and prose is at best, ridiculous and at worst, stale. It knows its target audience is tweens and reads as such, which unfortunately doesn’t grip me as an adult. I gave up at the baseball scene cause I was ready to gouge my eyes out if I read one more description of the weather. And give credit where it’s due, the side characters have way more fascinating stories than Bella or Edward, and it’s a shame Meyer didn’t take a chance to further expand them instead. I couldn’t find much to be angry about with the first book, and I was honestly more bored than anything. But I also cannot deny the wish fulfillment fantasy driving the narrative which drew in a large audience all those years ago.

And wish fulfillment is fine. Self-insert is fine. Teenage girls are just figuring out what confidence is, and there is some reassurance in a fantasy where the totally out-of-league man of your dreams still finds you the most fascinating human being in the world and wants to give you all his undivided attention. Not every female lead needs to be a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. I still see people write self-insert fanfictions from time to time, and they’re very sweet and tender to imagine being loved by a favorite character. We actually consume these stories more than we like to admit.

Hell, one of my favorite guilty pleasure films is The Princess Diaries. In many ways, it hits the same notes as Twilight. It’s a pure wish fulfillment fantasy where the main girl is smart, but clumsy and awkward and just wants to be invisible. Yet she finds herself on a whirlwind journey of self-discovery where others find value in her, and she even falls in love with a boy who adores her regardless of how she perceives herself. Yet The Princess Diaries is such a popular chick flick among people my age. So why is something like The Princess Diaries fondly remembered as an integral part of a millenial/Gen Z childhood while Twilight is met with disdain and disgust?

The major differences boil down to the main female protagonists: Mia and Bella. While not an overly complex character, Mia has, well, a personality. Her journey is more personal of overcoming her social anxiety and realizing how much she can contribute to the world as a public figure if she just takes the leap of faith. Getting a romance in the end is just icing on the cake when she remembers who was there for her even when she was the awkward nerd and will love her regardless of appearance or social status. It’s cheesy and hokey as chick flicks do, but it’s a satisfying wish fulfillment fantasy where the protagonist is better off than where she started and what she was looking for was right there all along.

With Bella, I barely know who she is outside of her romantic interests. Sure, the books go into more detail of her intelligence and social anxiety, but it’s never seen in film. Her life completely revolves around her relationships to the point of obsession, but we never almost see what she’s like when not caught up in the supernatural love triangle. And unfortunately, it’s a problem which worsens with each sequel. The Twilight franchise frames romance as something Bella can’t live without to the point of shutting herself in for months when the Cullens leave in New Moon, refusing to talk to her friends and family, and getting night terrors. It’s intended to make you feel sorry for Bella, but her backwards priorities make her completely pathetic on how much of her life she misses because of some boy who didn’t hesitate to cut her from his life, and she was totally fine with him leaving if he didn’t turn her into a vampire.

Prioritizing unrequited love over your own well being is such an unhealthy idea to romanticize because there is far more to life than some dumb boy who won’t return your feelings. I saw my fair share of unsatisfying romances in young adulthood hanging on by a thread for some idealized love that’s never going to happen. Even though a break up is the simplest and most effective solution for both people to take care of themselves, they continue wasting their time being unhappy with each other and latching on to the rose-tinted view of how they first fell in love. I know some people don’t like the idea that you have to love yourself before someone else, but there’s still truth to the saying where you have to understand that being in a romantic relationship will not automatically fix all your problems and guarantee a happily ever after.

Aside from getting married and having a baby which almost kills her during pregnancy, Bella doesn’t grow as a character or develop any personality, and she just gets her happy ending anyway. The Volturi hint that Bella is special because she’s unaffected by vampire powers, but that detail is shuffled to the sidelines to get more of Jacob and Edward butting heads on who she’ll choose. Most of the story’s events are outside her control and she doesn’t explore further into what they mean about her being special, and even her turning into a vampire-- not even of her own volition, but as a last ditch attempt to save her while dying in childbirth-- doesn’t change that much about her except now she’s immortal and she can bang Edward without getting knocked unconscious again.

I know Twilight is commercial romantic fiction meant to go in one ear and out the other, but it’s still such a damn waste of great lore and  build up with no pay off. And Bella is such a bore of a protagonist to follow the entire time even for a blank slate who is meant to be easily identifiable for teenage readers. Again, not every female character needs to wield a sword or be flawless at everything they do, but having an engaging arc is the simplest bare minimum when writing your story’s protagonist. But that got lost in drawn out weather descriptions and, of course, the unhealthiest romances in fiction.

In a 2013 interview with TIME about her book, The Host, Meyer says she never thinks much about if her protagonists are good role models because “it’s fiction... I don’t think you should be using fictional characters as role models.” To that, I strongly disagree and am rather surprised to hear from Meyer given the great battles of Team Edward vs Team Jacob as each of the films released in theaters. Granted, this is an old interview, and I don’t know how much her opinion changed, but it still irks me.

Whether you like to admit it or not-- especially on the wonderful world of Tumblr.com--, fiction affects our reality. It alters our perception on politics, race, gender, lifestyles, and yes, even romance. Especially as kids and teenagers, we can’t help but find role models to base our ever-changing identities on and look up to so we can be better people for ourselves and society. It’s the reason why so many people define themselves on what Hogwarts house they’re in, why Disney milks Star Wars as long as they can, and why black communities arranged trips for everyone to see Black Panther. And unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to say Twilight is completely harmless in how it portrays the romances.

Just type in any search engine about abusive relationships in Twilight, and you get millions upon millions of analyses on how Edward and Jacob check off as abusers. They’re controlling, aggressive, easy to become jealous, and lacking any notion of personal boundaries. However, one abuser often forgotten in this conversation is Bella, who is such a despicable, emotional manipulator.

Remember how ridiculously depressed she gets in New Moon when Edward leaves? Well, she starts seeing visions of Edward checking in on her whenever she seems to be in danger. And she gets the bright idea to keep purposefully doing so-- including hanging out with shady gang members, crashing a motorcycle and jumping off a cliff-- just to get his attention and hopefully coax him to return to Forks. I’m surprised she didn’t just straight up say “If you leave me, I’ll kill myself” because it’s such textbook gaslighting. And when Edward is led to believe Bella died, then he attempts suicide! And she’s seriously surprised he would given how much needless self-harm she did over the months? What else did you think was going to happen?! I can’t even laugh at some of the badness of New Moon because Bella’s toxic behavior leaves such a sour taste in my mouth. Her severe romantic dependency went from being a damsel-in-distress to an abusive, emotionally manipulative screwball. And that’s just scraping the tip of the iceberg, folks.

Upon actually watching all the films for the first time, Edward’s behavior isn’t nearly as bad as my first perceptions when I was in middle school, but his possessiveness and lack of personal space are still incredibly uncomfortable. I know we all wrote that fanfiction where person A gets saved by person B from attempted gang rape, but Edward is so overbearingly and exhaustively protective, and it just gets worse in the sequels up until Bella’s finally transformed into a vampire. It is to the point where he hardly trusts Bella to do anything by herself knowing how massive of a klutz she is, and will pop into her home without permission, warning or respect of her personal space. As such, she never grows independence, much less learn how to protect herself or be prepared when supernatural forces come for her while the Cullens leave.

Edward may have good intentions to think of Bella’s safety with the context of other vampires mercilessly killing humans in Washington state, but he’s also on a slippery slope of controlling nearly every aspect of her life, especially when she might start feeling romantic for someone else, because guess what dude? You left for over half a year. This continuing behavior throughout the series heavily contributes to Bella’s unhealthy dependency on a romantic partner to the point where she feels like she can’t live without them. Granted, that doesn’t excuse her emotional manipulation, but because she never learns self-defense on the off chance no one else is there to save her, it’s no wonder why she has severe issues with separation and loneliness. Like I said before, you can’t have a healthy romantic relationship if you think it’s going to automatically fix all your problems. Your romantic partner isn’t your therapist or coping mechanism, especially if you can’t handle a simple break up or if said partner wasn’t even that great to begin with.

You’d think Jacob would be off the hook since he at least doesn’t watch Bella while she’s sleeping, but he’s not escaping unscathed. Despite how the series tries to explain what imprinting is, it’s glanced over so quickly on the now creepy relationship between Jacob and Bella’s daughter, even all things considered for a rapidly growing vampire child. He also has a ton of aggressive tendencies as part of the werewolf gene to the point where he will inevitably hurt Bella-- as illustrated with another pack member’s live-in girlfriend who has scars across her face--, and has zero respect for consent as he forcibly kisses her on multiple occasions. Yeah, cause painting your Native American characters-- and only prominent characters of color-- as inevitable, aggressive predators sure is good representation and definitely not some awful racial stereotype. Jacob embodies the most basic descriptors of toxic masculinity between his sense of entitlement that Bella should choose him over Edward and the “boys will be boys” mentality as though Jacob is completely incapable of any self-control, werewolf or not. Given the recent news surrounding Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination and his defenders claiming “what boy hasn’t done this” and that he shouldn’t be punished for his actions as a young man, Jacob’s character is one of the most dangerous aspects of the series to be romanticized as a wish fulfillment fantasy. He’s not only based on gross racial stereotypes, but also on harmful patriarchal ideas of men thinking they’re entitled to women without any consideration to their autonomy. Normalizing this behavior as attractive qualities in a partner allows men to run from their actions without consequence.

And this toxic masculinity only heightened when Fifty Shades of Grey entered the spotlight for pop culture to bash, but had much more legitimate criticisms to garner hatred.

Fifty Shades of Grey changes up the wish fulfillment fantasy where instead of a vampire, the clumsy and awkward female lead, Anastasia Steele, is swept away by billionaire, Christian Grey, who’s happy to spoil her with grand luxuries but has a troubled past which makes it difficult for him to love. Oh, and he’s into BDSM and writes up a questionable contract for Anastasia on all the kinky shit he wants to do. And Anastasia is so sweet and innocent she doesn’t even know what an anal plug is (like, it’s right there in the name, sweetheart. You can’t be this dumb). As you do, things go wrong, they take a break, Christian dumps his tragic anime backstory on Anastasia as a pathetic excuse to apologize, people from his past show up because reasons, and they eventually live happily ever after, married with a baby on the way.

Not only does Christian hit the same abuser red flags as Edward, Jacob and Bella on top of being the worst dom in history, but the series passes off that anyone can be fixed with the power of love. Once again, your romantic partner isn’t your therapist. Trauma may explain his behavior, but that doesn’t excuse what he put Anastasia through, and neither is it suddenly her job to fix him. And abusers like Christian are never reformed so easily with love; more often than not, they use it as leverage to manipulate and keep the relationship going for the sake of control. Sure, it sounds hot to be in a BDSM relationship with a billionaire ready to spoil you, but do the ends really justify the means of that sweet wish fulfillment? Is it really that great of a fantasy to play your partner’s therapist and humor their extreme control and possessiveness to the point where you’re almost not allowed to be an individual?

It’s one thing to have guilty pleasures and wish fulfillment fantasies. But after a while, you wonder what it is about a certain piece of media which makes it a guilty pleasure. It’s one thing if Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey are guilty pleasures in some of the enjoyably bad writing, unnatural dialogue or squandered potential. But upholding these romances as ideal and disregarding all the blatant warning signs of abusive relationships? That’s where we really need to take a step back and wonder why this is remotely okay to normalize, especially for impressionable teenage girls. Even though I was mostly amused by the films’ bad writing and these poor actors pushing through for their paychecks, there was also a fair amount of content which was too uncomfortable to laugh at-- Bella’s emotional manipulation, the portrayal of werewolves, and the unsubtle anti-abortion message in Breaking Dawn: Part 1 just to name a few. It’s baffling how these properties became cultural phenomenons for their “romances of the century” when most of these character really need couples’ counseling.

Thankfully, these franchises didn’t made too lasting impressions and for the most part are forgotten. Stephenie Meyer quietly retired to continue taking care of her kids, and EL James just kinda disappeared from the media spotlight since the last film released. Maybe Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey aren’t the worst series to happen to mainstream media, but they still heavily reflect a society which to this day hesitates to call dating violence what it is. Where finding love in another takes priority over self-care. Where people still struggle to define abuse because “if that’s abuse, then everyone I know has been abused.” Where despite sexual assault survivors’ testimonies, polygraph tests, supporters, and grueling mental exhaustion to tell their stories, their abusers roam free without consequence and are still allowed power with their nasty holier-than-thou attitudes to silence anyone who dares question their character.

We’re slowly getting better in these kind of fantasies for teens with films like Love, Simon and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before with genuinely health romances where the characters have to confront their flaws and grow. We’re a lot more critical of relationship dynamics in film than we were over a decade ago, especially with #MeToo in the last year. But part of me is still worried if we’ll have another trend like Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey where it’s blindly defended because it’s fiction and disregard when people romanticize the severely problematic elements which don’t guarantee happily-ever-afters for couples’ in reality. As the possibility of reverting to pre-Roe vs. Wade days becomes more of a likelihood, at what point do we finally acknowledge that a simple fantasy isn’t automatically above criticism?

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[bagoftophats]

    Everybody remembers that one crush, that one unrequited love of their youth, the one that eclipses all the others. This girl was mine. She didn't blast into my life like a bolt of lightning or drop like a bomb from a clear blue sky but rather she drifted in, like Spring, there before you feel it, present before you realise it. One day I lifted my head and there she was, smiling, just the same as before but now there was something more, something different. Sure there were girls that had better figures, girls that were 'hotter' or 'sexier' whatever that means. But no one had her smile or those gorgeous eyes. No one had her presence, that ability to brighten a room just by being in it and yet lack the arrogance that popularity often comes with. And she was popular. Everyone delighted in her company but she remained as grounded as a person could be. She became my gold standard for attractiveness, her look and manner the scale by which I judged others. I recall contemplating how she had come to be, what combination of nature and nurture, what extra turn of the whisk that had occurred to produce someone of such perfection, or at least perfection as I perceived it. What forces and ingredients fused there in the crucible but crumbled to dust within me.     Despite the pedestal upon which I'd placed her. Despite my idolising of her, my fixation with her, I don't recall having many sexual thoughts about her, I was curious to know what lay under that uniform for sure but it stopped short of anything more as I had too much respect for her, I simply liked her too much for that. Even then, already then, so far back sex was something done to people I didn't like or value, and I just wanted to be with her, to be in her company. She was the only person who talked to me like a human being, the only one who was genuine with me. It was an experience I simply don't recall with anyone else from those years whether male or female, young or old. Everyone else seemed wary or suspicious, contemptuous, derisory or outright hostile. Because I just simply did not fit in. I was a stranger and strange with it, muted and inarticulate, an alien in every aspect of that environment. It would be easy to dismiss this as mere teenage angst, of an adolescent struggling to find his voice, his niche in the world but nobody, then or now realised the fractured state I was sliding into.     She, I'm sure, became an anchor point, my fixation with her the rope with which I'd tether myself , a point for my mind to cling too that in hindsight I can see was steadily deteriorating, desperate, depressed and struggling to reconcile the two worlds that I was trying to inhabit. The 'them and us' world, that isolated and introverted existence and this 'normal' world into which I'd been thrust, sparse made up. The sheer stress of this caused cracks that have never healed and scars that I no longer even try to explain. She became the happiness that I craved. She became the extraordinary that I wished to escape too. She became the star upon which I hung so many wishes.     Such was my fixation, my adoration that when I discovered where she lived and it's rural location I made no attempt to visit it. No attempt to pursue her as I had done others under the cover of darkness. To watch her at ease or rest, to glimpse her. To observe her as a character in her own silent play, to be part of her life in that intimate way or leave her gifts, strange, carven or bloody like a cat leaving a vole on the doorstep. That's how much I liked her, how much I respected her. She was probably my one and only conventional crush.     I realise in retrospect that in idolizing her I was idealising her, that I was seeing only what I had wanted to see, and that in reality she'd carried the same faults and failings, loathing's and lusts, same judgments and jealousies as everyone else and whether I chose not to see them, or indeed if she was a master at concealing them, still the person I'd built her up to be was probably not even close to the reality of her. But, back then I'd have walked through fire if she'd asked me too.     I don't know where she is now or what became of her or even if she's still alive such is the gulf of time between then and this, but I remember her as a beautiful, sweet and genuinely nice girl and I sincerely hope she went on to lead a very happy life.

[kxylxxkxmp]

all i can remember, all i got, this will give some of you hope

Every once and awhile I spill my words onto paper trying to make sense of them, hoping to get some sort of answer for why I do the things I do to myself and the people that love me.

I'm imploding.

I can never find the answers I'm seeking, but it does open up my mind in different ways. Ever since we decided we were only hurting each other I've always blamed it all on you. Someway or another I was placing the blame in your hands. I think I've always known in the back of my mind there was some other root of the problem, but I kept hiding it from myself. I used the pain you caused me to cover up the real reason I'm self-destructing. I think it's time to say it out loud. For anyone to truly understand you’d have to have been in my situation or lived through it and came to peace with it. I think there are many things I try to cover up. I try tricking myself so i don't have to deal with any of it. Ultimately for me, sadly & knowingly, it's either live through it and really heal, or die. I play that game with myself every day, telling myself it's just for a while, just till I recover from the crash landing that was our relationship. But it's been going on for longer than that. I've been toying with my life since I was in the 8th grade. It started with me stumbling into the wrong group of people, it only started with weed. All kids disagree with the saying “marijuana’s a gateway drug” , my view on that is that, if you don't have a family history of drug abuse and addictive personalities you probably won't have much problem with it, that high will be enough for you, but if you have that background it's hard to deny the facts that are sitting in front of you. I went into it blindly. I thought the same thing as every other kid, that were teenagers were just having fun. Maybe I should start from the beginning, not everyone's gonna wanna read this, I care about it frankly but maybe I'll help someone, maybe someone like me will read this and make the same realization and make the right choice... The choice I'm struggling to make.

Our beginning didn’t start off on the right foot, I met her in the hallway at school through my then current best friend. I was jealous, so obviously I had to get her back, or at least that’s what my original plan was. We ended up being so similar, *all names are changed*,  Josie truly knew me. I didn't expect to drift away from the girl I was so jealously trying to keep my best friend and away from my new accomplice. But I did. I floated away into jo, we started hanging out every day, she trusted me with her darkest and deepest secrets from the start. She wasn't wary of me. Wasn’t afraid, I think that's what brought me to her. Needless to say, she was from the wrong side of the tracks, her mother a drunk burnout trying her best to raise her and her sister, her dad a meth-addicted man just trying to keep a relationship with her. I pretended to be cool for her because I thought I had to. I'm pretty open with my life and past, so I volunteered my ever so private information about my (at the time) fiend of a mother, she left me with my grandparents 95% of the time, the monster meth really took a grab at her, it stranged her, left her gasping for air. I’ve always thought that that was normal, doesn't everyone have problems? With that intel out into the air, she asked me if I've ever smoked weed, of course, i said yes... I wouldn't want to disappoint her right? With that she was so happy, within the next few sleepovers she asked if I wanted to smoke with her. How could I say no? I know what you're thinking, I should've just stood my ground, but I wasn't as strong-willed as I am now back then. But if I'm still struggling with this am I really that strong?  The night came, we hung out as per usual, then dusk came and the rents went to bed, it was time to go outside. We went outside, it was a warm night, maybe the end of the school year or beginning of summer. She still thought I've been experienced in this, but i knew i wasn't, i wasn't really nervous, i was ready for the ride. I took my first hit and i didn't think much of it then, what teenager does? That night i can confidently say is the night that changed my life. Most people don't get high their first time smoking weed, but dear god i was on another planet. I didn't think much of it then, what was the big deal? I was tripping for hours, thinking i was high and mighty, never would i have thought i'd let myself go. After that first time, there were many firsts, but we’ll get to that in a while... After that one decision i made, the rest came slowly, i made my way into the “popular” group, for middle school me that's what i perceived. Now that i see it it was more like the troubled souls that didn't have a chance, or the mean girls of the school, whatever it was, i did anything to be included. I launched onto the head of the group, her name was Alyssa, we became close... Like me and jo were, but it was different. Now let me state, jo was back and forth between her dads and moms weekly. She never really showed at school or tried to keep in contact after that night. We both said it was the distance, or how busy we were, but it wasn't really anything, it was just lost communication on both ends. Let me say i still love her soul wholeheartedly to this day, she's now got a one y/o, life does that to you... We still keep in contact, but not how we used to, our inside jokes were still ours, still shared, but only created sadness. My deer will always be important to me and to my story. I can't really say this is a life story because it’s mainly about how i got to where i am now.. So I'll call it the story of how i got to where i am currently standing, in destruction. You’ll ask me if i blame anyone in this story about the mess i got into, and my answers no, i couldn't blame anyone but myself. I knew the risks, i knew my background, i knew what could've happened, and i let it slip past me. in fact, i jumped right in, not knowing i couldn't swim. Now back to Alyssa, i feel like she used me for more when no one else was around, and at that time i begged for that. All i wanted was to be loved. I lacked so much of that level of affection from my own mother. This was the beginning of the 8th-grade year, everything was i thought okay, i didn't think i was in trouble, or in too deep. It's not like i started off smoking everyday, or needing it daily. As i started being attached to her hip , it escalated. I started going over to her house almost daily, we didn't smoke with each other in the beginning, she never really expected it from me, but i can selfishly say that's why i so eagerly jumped into her life. I left  my honest to god good souled friends behind in my dust. The weekends went on, one night it was Alyssa, and our other “good” friends, Cassie, and Nia. Her mom wasn't the best, we told her we were going on a walk to get some air, what mom would let her 12/13 year old daughter and her friends go on a walk after dark? Whatever, that's not mine to be concerned about. I ruled it out as a Bad judgement call. We left her apartment and started walking towards the industrial buildings by her house, she lived by mcstop and pilot, way out in nowhere. Only people that could be seen were truckers, taking their naps at the rest stop, getting ready to leave for their final destination. We sat on the sidewalk by the stop sign at the end of the road, right would go to mcstop, left would go back towards saint cloud. It wasn't really busy with cars, we didn't have anything to worry about. Long story we smoked, had a exonerating & clearly forgettable night. Nothing really changed after that time either, except that i gained brownie points with the whole clique. It was the weekends that we’d spend at her ex-felon dad’s house that caused a bit more of a problem. We’d have a never-ending supply of weed, food, and safety. Explaining that, her dad let us smoke but in his words he wasn't “condoning” it. It was good enough for me. When we first started going there for the hangout place we’d try to be modest, but that faded away fast, smoking with friends that were 17 to in their 20’s, we were 12 or 13, whatever way you see it, it was a wrong step on my part. Eventually, i started bringing it home, i had a hiding spot in a Clearasil acne face pads container, it fit the onie she so generously gave me, the marijuana, and the lighter. All the supplies you’d need to get high and stay that way. It started as a way for me to socialize, become apart of a group, make friends, then i spent more nights waiting for my rents to go to sleep so i could either sneak off and smoke on our deck, or to pry open my window just enough to let the odor out. I spent months doing this, along with our usual group weekends at Alyssa’s. I don't know whose idea it was but we started smoking before school, my only reason i thought i had for that then was that “i liked it and that it made me cool, anything for the friendship of Alyssa.” now i realize i did it to make it through the day. We started arriving early enough to sneak back into the 6th grade bathroom, and stayed not late enough to be suspicious. We took the stairs up across the music corridor, and down to the bathrooms hidden away  in the very corner of the vacant hallway. We’d do the same thing everyday, smoke a few packs in the onie, i’d say we were lightweights then but who’s not at that age? We’d spray my same perfume everyday, Taylor, by Taylor Swift. That scent is forever engraved in my mind with that memory. We did get away with our bathroom rendezvous but eventually we did get caught, but not with weed. Alyssa brought her e-cig to school that day, for what reason, who knows? We always used my locker. It was easier, how dumb of me. One day before the first bell rang she decided to be cocky and to take a quick hit before school started, to show it off, not the worst situation i was in in my life, but it wasn't the best. Mr. S, the behavior management faculty just happened to walk through the lunchroom door that was located to the right of my locker a few feet down. He saw the cloud of smoke leave her mouth, and with the thing in my locker, i was instantly involved. He brought us in his office, how original, i initially wouldn't say a word, because why would i snitch when she's sitting right there? When we were separated i looked over my options and decided on telling them why, how and where. If the situation couldn't get more awkward, or worse, we had some weed stashed in a friend's bag in another locker on the next floor. I thought to myself “if i volunteer information, maybe i won't be in trouble” i know you're gonna tell me i'm a snitch, i was 12, i wasn't aware of the “snitches get stitches” motto we all unknowingly lived by. After that i was well aware, no, no one found out it was me, that was my luck. But not to my surprise i was also in trouble for being in possession of the e-cig in my locker, i couldn't fight that. We both got a day or two of caap, that's basically off - campus detention. I was fine with it, more brownie points i scored with the group. To my rents it was the first sign of trouble, the tip of the iceberg, them and i were so unaware of what comes next. My father was ex-friends with Alyssa’s dad, he knew his lifestyle, he was giving her a chance. We proved it wrong within the 8th grade year. I don’t exactly remember my punishment, i don't believe it was much, although they didn’t know the half of it, they thought they bit the bullet. They didn’t know i was firing off a full round. I do believe being able to hang out with her after the incident. I don't think they wanted me to, but why take away so much freedom from a girl who only got in trouble for holding a friends e-cig? They couldn't have guessed, maybe they could, they just didn't want to. They were or are more naive than i ever was. After that i cut down on smoking, smoking mostly at night, when no one was around, or when they weren't home, my safe time. I started hanging out with Alyssa less frequent, we still talked at school, i just believe she found someone better to hang out with, “cooler”, or most likely had deadbeat parents that didn't care what was on their agenda. As the year went on i got more desperate, for attention, love, for drugs. A boy that i met, he was in my first period his name was Tyrone, i thought he was the most beautiful human. Everyone did, all the girls drooled over him, and when he started to snap chatting me i felt so special like i was getting the attention i wanted. I was wrong. Several nights he’d somehow convince me to send him some racy photos. I didn’t respect myself, not one bit. That went on for weeks, i thought it was the only way i could get attention. I was so wrong.. A few weeks later i was at the mall shopping with my grandma, i got a message from Ty, saying he was at the mall, i was starstruck, i told my gram i was going to meet friends to shop, which i thought was the truth. When i met him all of his friends were chanting at him, hoorays, and encouragement. I thought nothing of it. He was very high, very out of it. I tell myself that that’s an excuse every time i think about it. He was leading me to the back of JCPenney's , the dressing rooms, the men dressing rooms next to the Levi jeans to be exact. I told him no, that i needed to get back, so many times. Countless times. He pushed me into the dressing room, i didn’t make a sound. What would it have mattered anyway? It was deserted. He pulled down his pants, then mine, and you know what comes after that.. I lost my self esteem and self worth that day. I went back to my grandma and didn’t say a word, you and I are the only souls who know. I should’ve taken this more seriously. I should've stopped there, already falling hard into the footsteps of both of my parents, but i kept doing what i was doing, hoping not to have it blow up in my face again too soon. That summer i spent with Rylie, i met her, or at least started hanging out with her at the end of 8th grade year, and continued to do so, throughout the summer i introduced her to the lifestyle, we both enchanted, we went to summertime at LG every week, religiously. We had an agenda each week, we showed up, said our bye’s to whoever dropped us off, then hunted for a spot to smoke, or someone to smoke with, we often met up in an alley, or a car, behind bushes and the brush, barely out of sight. Sometimes we met up with our old friend jo to smoke up with. We could care less. I became less careful each day that went by, i wouldn't say i let it all go at once, but i was slipping, trying to grasp onto my morals, eventually those went away. Summer passed, i switched schools to get away from the “bad influences” they didn’t know they were raising one. 9th grade year was weird, new, and on my hunt for the certain group to provide what i thought i just wanted, not needed, it wasn't as hard as i thought it would be. I was “top shit” coming from saint cloud school system they knew something in me was broken. I found Mary and the ride with her was a bit more eventful. We only hung out a few handful of times, but it was the most fast paced i'd ever been. We were out all hours of the night, returning to her trailer in the middle of the night, our older “friends” dropping us off. That all crashed in when my stepmother picked me up from her house one day after school and i smelt of cigarettes. It also started a new addicted. Another wrong step taken. She asked politely and knowingly why i smelt like that distinct odor, and i used the excuse that her mom smoked, that we were out there conversing with her while the smoke blew in my direction. My luck didn't run out and she believed me, atleast she said she did. This fling would've lasted longer but i made a few terribly wrong steps in the process. Let me introduce to you my old neighbor at my grandmothers, her name is Kate, me and her went to these alateen meetings (i know, hilarious) because we both had addiction in our bloodline. She was prescribed adderall for her ADHD, real or fake diagnosis, she had the jackpot. Before this i only experimented with addy, one or two times at one of my nights at jo’s, ending in me throwing up excessively and a major headache. So why did i wanna do it again? I don't know why but i sweated for it, missed the taste in my tongue. The way it went up my nose in little white lines, or when id digest the pill, the way the effects would slowly reach my limbs. This went on for a few weeks maybe a few months, her supplying me with a handful of pills for the week. Me begging for more when id lay my eyes on her the next time. This was an issue because id had a past with pills before, my parents fully aware, from my guilty late night confessions, i wasn't necessarily in trouble, they were just on the lookout, like a hawk, rightly so. I think i asked for help, i didn't get it, i said fuck it.  Anyways, my dad's girlfriend had found a single pill on her passenger seat floor. My dad simply sent me a picture asking, “why is there a pill on jessa's floor” and i simply replied, “it must be from when i was bringing pills home a few weeks ago” it got left on that. I was high out of my head, and got paranoid, fast, i had a handful of pills to last me the week, i was rightly nervous they’d search my bag when i arrived home from dance that night, i always thought i'd lost so much trust.. But they never violated my privacy out of respect. You can guess what happened next, a swallowed the handful, hoping i’d get to go home and figure out the next step. When i arrived home no questions were asked, just the usual “how was dance” or your day question. I stayed up for a while talking to jessa, Adderall has that effect of you it's a pill form of meth, used for ADHD, or sleeping disorders, whatever they thought was necessary. It's similar to meth, what my mom had gotten enslaved to, why would i take a chance?. I wouldn't shut my meth-fueled mouth. she didn't look suspecting, she went down to bed, i went to go think of the next step. I knew i wouldn't get a wink of sleep that night, or at least in the back of my head I did. I stayed up doing useless tasks, i wrote sort of an apology, maybe a closure letter to my ex and posting it on facebook, admiring my effort to write such a beautiful thing. I ended up calling a boy i'd call my brother, Bailey, he stayed up with me that night. All night long, knowing the long day both of us had the next day. He calmed me down, talked to me about life and our lives, our plans and dreams. Meaningless conversation to have when you're strung. The next morning i got out of bed at a reasonable time, so i wouldn't get questioned. I made coffee, and didn't have creamer, keep in mind i thought this was my whole problem, i used milk instead, and put in too much. Imagine the taste on a desert empty stomach that wouldn't accept food i'd try to nourish it with. I got to school and the day was already a shit show, i bought a yellow blanket, how distracting, i was trying to be lowkey. I met up with yet another bad influence, my first love, jay, and it ended in an unfavorable ending. She was in the drug game since she was a kid, i thought i’d  trust her with all my secrets and problems, including this, i told why i was the way i was, i may have overreacted in the fact  i held onto her for help walking everywhere we went, or maybe i was really that strung, it was my first time overdosing on Adderall and buckling up to go to school the next day. I thought i'd be fine, since i usually took a pill before school to help me focus, this was just gonna be more intense right? Absolutely not, my stomach was very upset, from lack of food and surplus of milky coffee. I thought i needed to throw up, because that always helps with an upset stomach, i stumbled alongside her grasping at her for the strength to stand to the private bathroom near the gym, past the office, we made it there and there was obviously, nothing to throw up, the stomach acid wouldn't even exit my open mouth. I tried to vomit until the bell rung for us to go to class, i had her walk me there, then when i got to my dreaded math class to start the day, my phone was missing, vanished, and the last person that had it was my first love, who i trusted and loved more than anything ( to this day im, even after this i'm still mesmerized by her..) i went down to the office, frantic, and out of my skull and coming down fast. I tried to hold my composure. I thought it worked at first, it probably would've if the one who was even a drug dealer, wouldn't have snitched on me. I kept some other pills in a rolled up pair of socks, pretty clever i still think, she never found them because i flushed them before she could rip apart my bag again. You're probably wondering what she did, who took my phone and what happened, the answers to those are simple. She told them i was high and overdosing, i'm positive, the VP nodded when i asked if it was her.. She wasn't suppose to do that, but she did, i think for sake of my sanity. What she also did was taken advantage of me when i trusting her to take care of me on this vital day. She had taken my phone out of my backpack pocket, and stashed it somewhere, you're probably asking how i know this too, Ms. Peterson also nodded in assurance to my question, i respect her for that, i needed some sort of truth. I was in and out of the office all day. The first few times were innocent, honestly trying to recover my phone. Until i got escorted down by the behavior interventionist, i walked in and Peterson took me into her office and examined my eyes, i denied every bit of it. All of it until the end. When she searched my bag for the first time she came across my pill filled sock but didn't look in it. That was a mistake on her part. I could have been charged with possession on school grounds right there. When she found nothing she sent me back to class, on the trek back i stopped in the bathroom to flush the evidence, i physically nor mentally was doing good. I needed to sleep, detox, do something other than feel like that. then the BI showed up again at my next class, this time i knew it was over, as we arrived into the office jessa and my grandma cher were standing in the entrance with the VP. i gave myself up because the VP knew i was on something from the size of my pupils, they were the size of dimes. How come nobody notices that about me anymore? Did they give up or are they ignoring it to save them the steps that would need to follow? I told them about getting the pills from Kate at Alateen and declined anything else. Not that i had stolen them from my grandmother's medicine cabinet, or her dresser. Adderall wasn't my only problem, although it was my DOC i also lived off of Vicodin and Xanax... The only upper in that list was the hardest to get, i still do anything to get it. The next thing that happened was i obviously got suspended for a few days, and so did Jay, even after that i still hadn't left her. I still believed in her. She denied being apart of it, but she knew i knew the truth, we ignored it. We had a “family meeting” within the next few days. The whole fam dam was there, grandparents included. How inviting. They asked why, how, where id got them from, what i wanted them to do, all of those intervention like questions. Even though i faced defeat i still lied my way through it with so much pain on my face. The deal sealed, punishment received, i got half of my door taken off so i wouldn't be killing myself behind closed doors. It's not that hard to slip a pill in your mouth, even with an open door, but whatever i understood the precautions taken. I slept it off for the next 3 days and when my dad arrived home from his fishing trip i don't quite honestly remember any yelling. He usually leaves the talking to jessa, he dishes out punishments and only talks when necessary , i feel like he knew i heard all i needed to hear this time around. I let them both down again, all down. He's always told me not to climb to the top of the latter just to jump right off again, i never did take that advice. After that incident,  i laid low for a few months, i earned my door back, got my phone and privileges to do whatever i wanted (with consideration) again. I had my freedom back. That's apart of the story that’s a bit foggy, going into that summer into next school year, i continued to smoke, and take pills, in moderation, to function. I didn't get back on the radar until early into 10th grade, i met the infamous Makayla  the year before, and we became inseparable only in a matter of a few days. She got her license September 9th, while only turning 16 a few days before. That started an avalanche. I was barely home, i got used to being free again, i got too comfortable again. My parents have known about my weed smoking habit since 8-9th grade, all i ever got was warnings because it was all ever speculations, never hard proof. I denied, they accepted that answer, but knew back in their heads what the truth was, they always gave me too many chances, too much trust in me when all i ever did was betray it. You know what happens next, or at least could guess it. I started sliding again, jumping off the dreaded ladder. Months went by and it started getting so blatantly clear. My dad called me downstairs one day after she dropped me off from school and he said something along the lines of “ i know what you've been been doing lately, im not dumb, you can still hang out with Makayla but you're getting a drug test in a month to see if you're smart enough to listen to me.” I took that more frantically than anything, i raced to my phone to call makayla to tell her the news and i ended up saying that i couldn’t be her friend anymore to save myself the trouble.. Bad idea. She found out that wasn't the truth, that got us into a massive fight. Long story short things blew up. She threatened my house, and family. Things dissipated, i didn't have my sister anymore. Things past, i continued to be teetering on the edge of sanity, i continued smoking, drinking, popping pills i could find. I knew i needed something, someone but i wouldn't accept it. That went on until summer.. I cleaned up, got sober, gained who i needed in my life, a rock, Megan Miller. She helped me more than anyone ever has and ever will. I'll never forget the impact she had on me and on my life. Things lasted all peachy keen until august.. I contacted Makayla, we reunited, and went back into things like we never stopped. I lied and said i was going to kylie’s, bad lie, they saw kylie at the fair that night.. And i wasn't with her. I shut my phone off because i started getting many calls from jessa and my father.. I smoked 4 blunts, dropped acid for the first time, and pushed my limits, i needed to feel again, and i was overwhelmed with the feeling of warmth and life. I decided in that moment that if i was ever gonna be happy for a consistent amount of time that this is where i needed to be. I dropped all the hard work i’d done the past 2-3 months and said fuck it to life.. This is where everything went downhill. I was grounded, but not too, only 2 weeks, i think it's because they gave up on me and my choices, But they’d deny that till the end of time. They think i've been sober since, that’s the sad part. They haven't caught up to me yet, and it's been 3 months, almost 4. Maybe they’re suspicious, but they haven't made it very obvious, the only thing i've been making apparent is my dwindling amount of money and that’s drawing a lot of attention. I blame it on needing a lot of gas. I’m still reeling, i’m sorry i blamed you for my pain when all you wanted was to resolve it, when you don’t love yourself, it’s impossible to give others the love they deserve. You deserve all the sunshine in the world, my little sunshine. I gotta be ready to let go, and this is the start of that.

 I'm getting messier in my mistakes, i know i've gotten to the point where i don't care. I don't know if it’s a call for help. That's what my heart hopes.. I know this isn't the end of my story. I know this isn't the end of my pain, maybe writing it all down will make some sort of sense, that was at least my intent. I only wrote this because i'm strung out on adderall right now. Its 530 am. I've been up since the day before last. Its sad i know, but i don't really feel anymore. Im teetering on the edge of life and death and i couldn't be more careless. I've pushed away everyone and everything that meant anything to me. I don't feel the loss, because i fill my body with drugs to fill the hole it left. I'm only 16 and i got a whole life ahead of me, hopefully i'll make it out okay. I wrote this so somebody could relate, not feel so alone, maybe it'll change someone's mind about trying marijuana,  taking that first pill, or snorting that first bump. I just wanna be able to make something out of this shit show of a life i created. I love every single one of you that took the time to read this. I know i should take my own advice, and i hope someday i get the strength to be bigger than all of this, i know i will, i’m on my way there. Until then know i'm trying. If you've read this far, i’m so sorry your soul is hurting like mine and so many other peoples. I'll be here for you before i'm ever here for myself. I started this saying i always blamed you for the way i live my life. Then i realized the pain and self hatred has been festering inside me for far beyond the time i've known you. You might have amplified it, but you never solely caused it. I've began to forgive you by going through all of this. And i think that's a step in the right direction, at least it's a win in my book. And that's a good start in the right direction..

(k.s.k 11/16/17)

[divagonzo]

(just so I understand this whole things about Krum- the issue is with 17/18+ age people wanting to date 17/18- age people, Not the issue with age difference right? because otherwise i'm pretty sure a lot of popular ships (hans/leia, Tonks/remus) are gonna come under fire too and well, the person complaining about being judged does have a point that there are people with age differences married in real life and it's not toxic (not teenagers couples but couples my grandparents age)

‘ello Nonnie. Grab a beverage and a chair.

This is gonna be long and under a cut with some triggering aspects.

(And this speaks only of Het relationships but there are others in non-het but I won’t get into them in this since it’s off-topic.)

It’s not the age difference that is the issue but the age difference when one is a minor. It’s about power imbalances and perceived control.

Krum, in DH, was 20-21. Hermione was 17. ‘Twas better than when she was 15 and he was 17-18, because of additional life experiences on her behalf. But when he casually tossed aside his interest because Hermione had accepted she’d fancied Ron - someone her own age - he turned his attention towards Ginny - who was 15 at the time. (Aka a Minor in Wizarding lore as well as a minor according to British Common Law.)

Having a boyfriend who is 17-18 and a young woman who is 13-14 is a huge power imbalance. The same for a Lad who is 23 having attentions towards someone who is considerably younger (in my own case, it was 17-18 and he would be turning 24 in a few months.)

There was a considerable power imbalance which I didn’t realize at the time. I thought he was cute (and he was fetching hot!) and he was amusing and talented and had a smoldering look that could twist knickers. A set of blue eyes made me immediately stupid.

I was damn lucky my first term of college to escaped relatively unharmed. (Relatively, speaking.) There were quite a few opportunities where I put myself in harm’s way and wasn’t hurt. (And looking back it was utterly foolish to do so on those multiple occasions. Damn stupid!)

Han/Leia was a distinct age difference - with her being 18/19 and him in his early 30s. He had plenty of life experiences, including the life of a smuggler - and she was politically powerful. In Real Life, I’d have said words to both and stepped in. But since it’s movies... it’s still shown to girls that it’s romantic to have an older man giving google eyes at a considerably younger woman. It’s a male fantasy to have a considerably younger woman for them to teach sexually.

(And I’m not going to get into the whole Mystery of Leia’s Lagoon ‘cause that’s off-topic.)

For them, and them specifically, there wasn’t the power imbalance, because she was considerably politically powerful. He wasn’t. Socially there was. Emotionally there was. Mentally, there was. Physically there was.

Remus and Tonks were both adults - Tonks being in her mid-20s when she’d turned her attention towards Remus. Even if she was younger, she was the one who chased him - not the other way around. He did everything he could in Canon to dissuade her from him.

But let me point out this for those in the peanut gallery:

Tonks was an adult. Tonks was an Auror. She had agency of her choices.

37/25? Less power imbalance. She’s lived some and seen more in her life.

A 17-year-old? With a 23-year-old? Distinct power imbalance.

33/19? Distinct power imbalance.

Why do you think there are studies (especially one rolling around Tumblr) Where men in particular fancy women in a narrow age band - no matter what the man’s age is? It’s between 19 and 24 (and 24 is when guys are in their mid 40s!)

Men covet and crave power in a relationship. It’s more intoxicating than any distilled beverage. It’s an ego trip and they get off on it - having a younger woman they can teach things to, especially behind closed doors.

So my core point is that it’s one thing for a woman who is an adult, who has lived, dated, and potentially f* guys her own age (within a year or two) but five to six years difference at such a young age is problematic, at best. There used to be a word called jailbait and the rhyme behind it was, 15 will get you 20.

Before such, having carnal relations with a girl who was 15 and you were 18 would get you 5-20 years in prison for statutory rape. Women couldn’t consent when under 16.

I know all too well because someone in my own family spent 10 years incarcerated for such. (She was 15, he was 18.)

Power is what you have and most give it away on the flimsy excuse of “he likes me” when it’s problematic to predatory. @weasleyismyking540 is right that dude who made the arrowhead would get stabbed in the hand for hitting on a minor.

Older couples - especially when the woman is older and has lived some - make the power imbalances shrink if not disappear completely. But a 16-17 year old hasn’t lived enough yet to know how relationships which media say is romantic is abusive, destructive, and filled with gaslighting, isolation, and power trips.Just like it’s a problem when a guy who is post-college age is trying to date someone still in secondary/high school.

Why is he trying to date a high schooler?

Because girls his own age know he’s a tosser and he’s going after someone vulnerable and open to his manipulations.

But when you’re in your 40s and married to someone in their 50s? Not an issue. Being 16 and being hit on by someone 26? Big issues.

That’s my point - is that it’s predatory when a girl is still naive and unaware with little experience. It’s another when shs’e older and wiser, having lived through more.

See.... when I got married, it was to a considerably older man. My mom warned me off of him - like she did the hot guy I’d mentioned earlier. She was worried I’d get hurt. She was concerned that I was being used and manipulated. (I wasn’t 21 yet.)

What she didn’t know is that I am the one with power, even if the imbalance looks the other way. But when we did get married - there was a power imbalance and it didn’t settle down for six or seven years.

Howso? I grew up.

If I’d considered dating my husband when I was 17, I’d hope and pray someone would slap the stupid out of me for considering it. 

But when others warn you off on a bad course with possibly terrible consequences and you tell off others who have lived through it - you probably threw aside those who would be there to pick up the pieces of your broken heart when he trades you in for someone younger, prettier, taller, thinner, or richer? You’re the one going to be significantly hurt.

Howso?

Because it happened to one of my giggles last year. She fell for him. (He was a senior/Yr7 and she was a freshman/Yr4). Everyone and their grandmother warned her off. I did too. I knew him, since he dated someone in my family.

She lied to many to keep the relationship. He used her for attention and affection. He sucked up so much emotional labor that when he broke it off with her a week after graduation - after using her for his own means - she didn’t run to anyone else but me - because I told her, “Go ahead but when he breaks your heart, I’ll be there to help.”

And I did. Because I’d lived it and learned from it.

She was smart. She listened. She learned. And has wisdom from it - and contrition for putting those who meant her well and ignoring their counsel.

But ignoring wisdom from those who lived through the same situation is fraught with considerable peril - and potential disaster.

Cavet Emptor.