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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 5 years ago

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Blurb: No Glove, No Love

prompt from this list

In which Harry and Y/N’s roommates are fucking, and so they must spend time with each other at two in the morning. fratboy!harry

“We both got kicked out because our roommates are having sex so now we’re playing scrabble”

—

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Y/N hissed as she rolled her eyes, pressing her ear against the door to her dormitory, face crumpling in disgust when breathy moans, animalistic grunts, and the distinct slapping of flesh could be heard through the barrier.

“You, too, Juliet?”

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes physically into the back of her head, once she heard the familiar deep, teasing voice and irritating nickname. Auditioning for that stupid play had never been the plan, but their English Lit professor had thought it would be a splendid idea for the first years to do ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for seniors planning to be freshmen next year who were touring their university. He had begged for Y/N to take the role of Juliet, and once he’d offered extra credit and given her that hopeful, ‘I see potential in you, you’re my best student’ glance, she had reluctantly obliged.

“Don’t call me that, Styles,” she warned, sighing a bit in exasperation at a particularly loud moan. Daddy. “What do you mean by ‘you, too’?”

She faces him, unable to stop herself from glancing over him. He’s wearing a jersey with his ‘STYLES’ written in bold ink on the back, stripes on his face stretching from his cheeks to where curls frame it to show team spirit, courtesy of the football game today. And, of course, he’s wearing his signature smug smirk, one dimple poking out of his slightly tanned face, jawline sharp and green eyes brighter with dilated pupils from what she guesses was drinking alcohol during the post-game victory frat party. His intoxicated eyes were trained intently on her, also swooping over in a way which left her slightly dizzy for reasons she didn’t understand.

“M’ roommate’s fuckin’ someone as well,” he nods, y/n trying not to flinch from how brass the thickly accented curse words sound coming out of his mouth. Everything sounds sharper and more meaningful out of his mouth. It bothers her.

“But Layla’s doing it with Zayn...”

“Niall and some girl from the party,” he explained, her nodding brisquely in understanding. They both leaned against the wall, on opposite sides from each other in silence for a few moments.

“Speaking of, why weren’t you at the party?”

It sounds careless coming out of his mouth, as if he’s speaking just for the sake of speaking, but Y/N can’t help but think of how he had noticed she wasn’t there.

“Didn’t feel like it,” she confessed. “It was loud and crowded. Not really my scene, today. Didn’t feel like having someone slip something in my drink.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen to you,” he frowned, eyebrows pinching together. She shrugged.

“I watched the football game, because my friends dragged me, but that’s it.”

He recalls looking for her in the stands, and smiles teasingly.

“Very strong school spirit, Juliet. One day, you’ll be wearing my jersey in the stands and screaming my name.”

She ignores the second half of the comment.

“I like to go to the games, just wasn’t feeling it today. I have to tutor some students tomorrow, and needed to save my energy.”

“Well, I wish you were there,” he said, a sincere look in his drunken eyes, wincing as Zayn started screaming Layla’s name for the fifth time. She scoffed, and he snapped his gaze back to her defensively.

“What?”

“I mean, you’d want me there for what? To set fire to my hair?”

“No,” he denied with conviction, emotions Y/N couldn’t quite decipher flashing in his darkening jade irises. “Why is it so fucking hard for you to believe that I want you there?”

Did she really think he did all of this, because he wanted to trick her into something or use her? He didn’t admit it often, but he cared for Y/N. He looked out for her during every party, read the books she read to understand her mental environment, and even if she didn’t want to be with him or share the future he’d dreamed of having with her, despite his dark playboy reputation, it would be okay if they were at least on speaking terms. She seemed to despise him. He’d grown fond of her wit and fiery nature, how she always blew strands of hair falling in her eyes as she was knees deep in some research papers or reading Nietzsche in the library. She was everything: smart, hilarious, very pretty, empathetic, and she managed to get his heart to skip a beat every time, without fail. When he’d refused to let her ever walk alone to her dorm after late hours, helped her with notes when she’d missed a class, brought her her favorite order from the local cafe when she was sick.. He’d thought she would have gotten the hint that he liked her. More than liked her. She would look down and keep walking away, thinking he was mocking her, and it hurt his heart more than he’d let on. He wanted to wake up and make her breakfast in the morning, kissing her after a game while she was in his jersey. His reputation kept that from happening, and it haunted him.

“What are you trying to say, Styles?” she asked tiredly.

“I’m saying that I want you there,” he said importantly, searching her eyes. She was confused. Why was he being so intense? “I need you to know that. I’m not mocking you. I don’t know why... I just want you there. I don’t hate you.”

“Okay...” she trailed off, unsure of where this conversation was going. As the groaning from inside her dormitory grew more frequent. “Oh, God.”

Harry’s eyes widened dramatically, and she had to laugh a bit, because of how comical it all was.

“Why’s your face like that?”

“Do you think..” he paused. “They’re using a condom?”

“Of course, they are,” she exclaimed. “They both know better.”

“Yeah, but maybe they’re drunk.”

She nervously laughed.

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“You’re right.”

A few seconds passed. Y/N groaned.

“You’re stressing me out,” she pointed an accusative finger at him, to which he raised his arms in defence. “What if they aren’t? The world can’t handle another Layla.”

“Should I go in there?”

“Gross, Harry!”

“I wouldn’t look,” he snapped. “I’d just give them a condom and leave.”

“Fine,” she bit her lip, him getting up to go and fetch a condom from his dormitory. “Wait!”

He turned after halting his light jog, glancing at her quizzically. She reached under the elastic band of her skirt, and pulled out a condom. His jaw dropped. Harry gaped at her, and she felt a light blush coming onto her warm cheeks.

“Why do you have that?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her, a scary blend of jealousy and betrayal and hate for his fate concocting in his chest. She rolled her eyes.

“Just go!”

He huffed a bit, grabbing the plastic wrapper and then took a deep breath. He twisted the door handle and she watched him, grimacing. He opened the door, closed his eyes, and threw the condom where Layla and Zayn connected.

“AH, WHAT THE FUCK?”

“NO GLOVE, NO LOVE.”

“We had a condom, asshole!” Layla shrieked.

After a few moments of her trying to hold in laughter and Harry cradling his face in his hands, regret and faint nausea visible on his face, she spoke up.

“So... Scrabble?”

MASTERLIST | Requests are open!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction

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innuendostudios · 6 years ago

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Research Masterpost

Legend: Titles in bold -> finished Titles in italics -> partially finished *** -> livetweeted as part of #IanLivetweetsHisResearch (asterisks will be a link) The book I am currently reading will be marked as such.

Media Manipulation & Disinformation Online, by Alice Marwick and Rebecca Lewis Alternative Influence, by Rebecca Lewis The Authoritarians, by Bob Altemeyer*** Eclipse of Reason, by Max Horkheimer Civility in the Digital Age, by Andrea Weckerle The Origins of Totalitarianism, by Hannah Arendt On Revolution, by Hannah Arendt Don’t Think of an Elephant, by George Lakoff The Shock Doctrine, by Naomi Klein How Propaganda Works, by Jason Stanley*** This is an Uprising, by Mark and Paul Engler Neoreaction a Basilisk, by Elizabeth Sandifer This Nonviolent Stuff'll Get You Killed, by Charles E. Cobb, Jr. Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me), by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson Healing from Hate, by Michael Kimmel The Brainwashing of my Dad, doc by Jen Senko On Bullshit, by Harry Frankfurt The Reactionary Mind, by Corey Robin*** Stamped from the Beginning, Ibram X. Kendi Fascism Today, by Shane Burley Indoctrination over Objectivity?, by Marrissa S. Ballard Ur-Fascism, by Umberto Eco Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, by Lindsay C. Gibson Anti-Semite and Jew, by Jean-Paul Sartre Alt-America, by David Neiwert*** The Dictator’s Handbook, by Bruce Bueno de Mesquita & Alastair Smith Terror, Love, and Brainwashing, by Alexandra Stein Kaputt, by Curzio Malaparte The Anatomy of Fascism, by Robert O. Paxton Neoliberalism and the Far Right, by Neil Davidson and Richard Saull Trolls Just Want to Have Fun, by Erin E. Buckels, et al The Entrepreneurial State, by Mariana Mazzucato

Media Manipulation & Disinformation Online, by Alice Marwick and Rebecca Lewis (free: link) A monstrously useful report from Data & Society which- coupled with Samuel R. Delany’s memoir The Motion of Light in Water - formed the backbone of the Mainstreaming video. I barely scratched the surface of how many techniques the Far Right uses to inflate their power and influence. If you feel lost in a sea of Al-Right bullshit, this will at least help you understand how things got the way they are, and maybe help you discern truth from twaddle.

The Authoritarians, by Bob Altemeyer (free: link) (livetweets) A free book full of research from Bob Altemeyer’s decades of study into authoritarianism. Altemeyer writes conversationally, even jovially, peppering what could have been a dense and dry work with dad jokes. I wouldn’t say he’s funny (most dads aren’t), but it makes the book blessedly accessible. If you ever wanted a ton of data demonstrating that authoritarianism is deeply correlated with conservatism, this is the book. One of the most useful resources I’ve consumed so far, heavily influencing the entire series but most directly the video on White Fascism. Even has some suggestions for how to actually change the mind of a reactionary, which is kind of the Holy Grail of LeftTube.

(caveats: there is a point in the book where Altemeyer throws a little shade on George Lakoff, and I feel he slightly - though not egregiously - misrepresents Lakoff’s arguments)

Don’t Think of an Elephant, by George Lakoff An extremely useful book about framing. Delves into the differences between the American Right and Left when it comes to messaging, how liberal politicians tend to have degrees in things like Political Science and Rhetoric, where conservatives far more often have degrees in Marketing. This leads to two different cultures, where liberals have Enlightenment-style beliefs that all you need is good ideas and conservatives know an idea will only be popular if you know how to sell it. He gets into the nuts and bolts of how to keep control of a narrative, because the truth is only effective if the audience recognizes it as such. Kind of staggering how many Democrats swear by this book while blatantly taking none of its advice. Lakoff has been all over the series since the first proper video.

(caveats: several. Lakoff seemingly believes the main difference between the Right and Left is in our default frames, and that swaying conservatives amounts to little more than finding better ways to make the same arguments. he deeply underestimates the ideological divide between Parties, and some of his advice reads as tips for making debates more pleasant but no more productive. he also makes a passing comparison between conservatism and Islam that means well but is a gross and kinda racist false equivalence)

How Propaganda Works, by Jason Stanley (livetweets) A slog. Many useful concepts, and directly referenced in the White Fascism video. But could have said everything it needed to say in half as many pages. Stanley seems dedicated to framing everything in epistemological terms, not appealing to morality or sentiment, which means huge sections of the book are given over to “proving” democracy is a good thing using only philosophical concepts, when “democracy good” is probably something his readership already accepts. Also has a frustrating tendency to begin every paragraph with a brief summary of the previous paragraph. When he actually talks about, you know, how propaganda works, it’s very useful, and I don’t regret reading it. But I don’t entirely recommend it. Seems written for an imagined PhD review board. Might be better off reading my livetweets.

Neoreaction a Basilisk, by Elizabeth Sandier A trip. Similar to Jason Stanley, Sandifer is dedicated to “disproving” a number of Far Right ideologies - from transphobia to libertarianism to The Singularity - in purely philosophical terms. The difference is, she’s having fun with it. I won’t pretend the title essay - a 140-page mammoth - didn’t lose me several times, and someone had to remind which of its many threads was the thesis. And some stretches are dense, academic writing punctuated with vulgarity and (actually quite clever) jokes, which doesn’t always average out to the playfully heady tone she’s going for. But, still, frequently brilliant and never less than interesting. There is something genuinely cathartic about a book that begins with the premise that we all fear but won’t let ourselves meaningfully consider - that we will lose the fight with the Right and climate change is going to kill us all - and talks about what we can do in that event. I felt I didn’t even have to agree with the premise to feel strangely empowered by it. Informed the White Fascism video’s comments on transphobia as the next frontier of bigotry since failing to prevent marriage equality.

On Bullshit, by Harry Frankfurt Was surprised to find this isn’t properly a book, just a printed essay. Highly relevant passage that helped form my description of 4chan in The Card Says Moops: “What tends to go on in a bull session is that the participants try out various thoughts and attitudes in order to see how it feels to hear themselves saying such things and in order to discover how others respond, without its being assumed that they are committed to what they say: it is understood by everyone in a bull session that the statements people make do not necessarily reveal what they really believe or how they really feel. The main point is to make possible a high level of candor and an experimental or adventuresome approach to the subjects under discussion. Therefore provision is made for enjoying a certain irresponsibility, so that people will be encouraged to convey what is on their minds without too much anxiety that they will be held to it. [paragraph break] Each of the contributors to a bull session relies, in other words, upon a general recognition that what he expresses or says is not to be understood as being what he means wholeheartedly or believes unequivocally to be true. The purpose of the conversation is not to communicate beliefs.”

The Reactionary Mind, by Corey Robin (livetweets) Another freakishly useful book, and the basis for Always a Bigger Fish and The Origins of Conservatism. Jumping into the history of conservative thought, going all the way back to Thomas Hobbes, to stress that conservatism is, and always has been, about preserving social hierarchies and defending the powerful. Robin dissects thinkers who heavily influenced conservatism, from Edmund Burke and Friedrich Nietzsche to Carl Menger and Ayn Rand, and finally concluding with Trump himself. There’s a lot of insight into how the conservative mind works, though precious little comment on what we can do about it, which somewhat robs the book of a conclusion. Still, the way it bounces off of Don’t Think of an Elephant and The Authoritarians really brings the Right into focus.

Fascism Today, by Shane Burley Yet another influence on the White Fascism video. Bit of a mixed bag. The opening gives a proper definition of fascism, which is extremely useful. Then the main stretch delves into the landscape of modern fascism, from Alt-Right to Alt-Lite to neofolk pagans to the Proud Boys and on and on. Sometimes feels overly comprehensive, but insights abound on the intersections of all these belief systems (Burley pointing out that the Alt-Right is, in essence, the gentrification of working-class white nationalists like neo-Nazi skinheads and the KKK was a real eye-opener). But the full title is Fascism Today: What it is and How to End it, and it feels lacking in the second part. Final stretch mostly lists a bunch of efforts to address fascism that already exist, how they’ve historically been effective, and suggestions for getting involved. Precious few new ideas there. And maybe the truth is that we already have all the tools we need to fight fascism and we simply need to employ them, and being told so is just narratively unsatisfying. Or maybe it’s a structural problem with the book, that it doesn’t reveal a core to fascism the way Altemeyer reveals a core to authoritarianism and Robin reveals a core to conservatism, so I don’t come away feeling like I get fascism well enough to fight it. But, also, Burley makes it clear that modern fascism is a rapidly evolving virus, and being told that old ways are still the best ways isn’t very satisfying. If antifascism isn’t evolving at least as rapidly, it doesn’t seem like we’re going to win.

(caveats: myriad. for one, Burley repeatedly quotes Angela Nagle’s Kill All Normies, which does not inspire confidence. he also talks about “doxxing fascists” as a viable strategy without going into the differences between “linking a name to a face at a public event” and “hacking someone’s email to publicly reveal their bank information,” where the former is the strategy that fights fascism and the latter is vigilantism that is practiced widely on the Right and only by the worst actors on the Left. finally, the one section where Burley discusses an area I had already thoroughly researched was GamerGate, and he got quite a few facts wrong, which makes me question how accurate all the parts I hadn’t researched were. I don’t want to drive anyone away from the book, because it was still quite useful, but I recommend reading it only in concert with a lot of other sources so you don’t get a skewed perspective.)

Healing from Hate, by Michael Kimmel (Michael Kimmel, it turns out, is a scumbag. This book’s main thesis is that we need to look at violent extremism through the lens of toxic masculinity, so Kimmel’s toxic history with women is massively disappointing. Book itself is, in many ways, good, but, you know, retweets are not endorsement.)

A 4-part examination of how men get into violent extremism through the lens of the organizations that help them get out: EXIT in Germany and Sweden, Life After Hate in the US, and The Quilliam Foundation in Europe and North America. Emphasizing that entry into white nationalism - and, to an extent, jihadism - is less ideological than social. Young men enter these movements out of a need for community, purpose, and a place to put their anger. They feel displaced and mistreated by society - and often, very tangibly, are - and extremism offers a way to prove their manhood. Feelings of emasculation is a major theme. The actual politics of extremism are adopted gradually. They are, in a sense, the price of admission for the community and the sense of purpose. The most successful exit strategies are those that address these feelings of loneliness and emasculation and build social networks outside the movement, and not ones that address ideology first - the ideology tends to wither with the change in environment. The book itself can be a bit repetitive, but these observations are very enlightening.

(caveats: the final chapter on militant Islam is deeply flawed. Kimmel clearly didn’t get as much access to Qulliam as he had to EXIT and Life After Hate, so his data is based far less on direct interviews with counselors and former extremists and much more on other people’s research. despite the chapter stressing that a major source of Muslim alienation is racism, Kimmel focuses uncomfortably much on white voices - the majority of researchers he quotes are white Westerners, and the few interviews he manages are mostly with white converts to Islam rather than Arabs or South Asians. all in all, the research feels thinner, and his claims about militant Islam seem much more conjectural when they don’t read as echos of other people’s opinions.)

Terror, Love and Brainwashing, by Alexandra Stein A look at totalitarian governments and cults through the lens of attachment theory. While not explicitly about the Far Right, it’s interesting to see the overlap between this and Healing from Hate. Stein stresses that the control dynamics she discusses are not exclusive to cults, and are, in fact, the same ones as in abusive relationships; cults are just the most extreme version. So you can see many similar dynamics in Far Right organizations, like the Aryan Nations or the Proud Boys. It’s made me curious how many of these dynamics are in play in the distributed, less controlled environment of online extremism, and makes me want to look further into the subject before drawing conclusions.

(caveats: book is, as with How Propaganda Works, sometimes a slog and rather repetitive. I clocked a 4-page stretch in chapter 8 where Stein did not say a single thing that hadn’t been said multiple times in previous chapters. also, when talking about people coerced into highly-controlled lifestyles, she offhandedly includes “prostitutes” among them? it’s that liberal conflation of sex work and trafficking which is really not cool. this isn’t a major point, just something to notice while you read it.)

Alt-America, by David Neiwert (livetweets) A look at the actual formation of the Alt-Right, and the history that led up to it: the Militia and Patriot movements of the 90′s, the Tea Party, the rise of Alex Jones and Glenn Beck, and so on. Having been steeped in the rhetoric and tactics of the Far Right for so long, someone doing the work of sitting down and putting it all in chronological order is immensely helpful. Generally clear and well-written, too, and would be an easy read if not for how goddamn depressing the content is. Has an unfortunate final 7 pages, where Neiwert starts recommending actual policy. Falls into the usual “have empathetic conversations with genuine conservatives to turn them against the fascist wing taking over their party,” not recognizing the ways in which conservatism is continuous with fascism, nor the ways that trying to appeal to moderate conservatives alienates the people whose rights they deny. Means an extremely valuable book leaves a bad taste in the final stretch, but everything up to then is aces.

#the alt-right playbook #alt-right

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smokeinherperfume · 6 years ago

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Blurb request? Y/N has been studying for a long time (like two or three days straight) and hasn't really eaten anything or slept that much and Harry just tells her stop and takes care of her?(:

(Hope you like it bubby!)

“So, Y/N, exactly how long ‘ave you been up for.”

You’re not sure if it’s the coffee, or the obvious lack ofsleep on your part, but the suddenness of his voice catches you off guard,making you almost fall out of your chair placed infront of your desk in theliving room. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm your frazzled nerves, youturn around, clutching your mug tightly to see Harry standing in your door way,holding a couple of rather large bags in each hand as he carefully toes off hisshoes. He wobbles slightly, nearly falling over once or twice before he finallyplants his sock covered feet on the laminate flooring.

“I umm… I can’t really remember when I slept last if I’mbeing honest.” You admit quietly, scratching at your head, wincing as yourfingers slip over your now greasy hair that you’ve had pulled up in a bun forthe past week it seems.

Tisking softly, the walks over, setting the bags he’d broughtwith him on the countertop in your kitchen before coming to stand beside you,glancing at the mountain of notes sprawled out on the desk, as well as the takeaway bins littering floor and the rather numerous pints of now empty ice creamand coffee cups that have stacked up along the edges.

“Havin’ quite a time aren’t you bub.” His voice is socomforting rather than full of judgement as you’d expect that it almost makesyou cry. It’s the first time he’s seen you in a week, only having heard fromyou via the occasional text. And honestly, he wishes he’d decided to pop bysooner, knowing that you probably needed his support much earlier.

As his hand drifts to rest against your hunched over back,gently rubbing between your shoulder blades, you’re pulled out of the focus ofyour work. Pawing at your eyes, blinking up at him almost as if it’s the firsttime you’ve seen anything other than your economics and philosophy notes in aweek.

“What’s givin’ y’troubles darling. Try explaining it t’me.”He says gently as he carefully piles your notes together, perching on the edgeof the desk close to you, pulling one of your tired hands into his.

“ ‘S just I’ve got a midterm on existentialism in a week. I’vegot Dostoevsky down but I’m still confusing Kierkegaard’s theories with Heidigger’sand I haven’t even started on Nietzsche’s yet.” You mumble. “And now I’ve gotan economics group seminar this week, so I have to prepare all these statistics,and my gender and political theory course has a paper due on Monday that I’dforgotten about until now and then I had to call in to work and take the lasttwo weeks off and I’m short on cash and it’s just all so much all at once!” Youcan’t help yourself from getting a bit melodramatic, the pair of you knowingfull well that it’s the lack of sleep that’s really doing you in the most.

“And when was the last time y’ate somethin’ that didn’t comeout of a box or a carton darling?” He looks down at you curiously. You restyour head against his thigh like you always do when you’re stressed out, hishand slipping up to brush his fingers through your hair, not even caring abouthow unkempt it is after a week’s worth of neglect.

“Maybe… ummm. When was the last time we went on a date?” Youadmit sheepishly, as he tuts softly, rolling his eyes while he glances fromyour tired form to the notes on your desk.

“Tell you what darling. I think its time f’you to take abreak. And no, I’m not g’nna force you t’stop studyin’ for the night. But justfor a few hours. Give you a chance to give your body a break and then you canwork a bit, and then we’ll go to sleep and y’can cuddle me all night.” You propyour chin on his knee at that, glancing up at him. He can tell you’re about toprotest about the amount of work you have but he simply shakes his head. “Iknow you love, know you’ve got a schedule already planned f’this, and with howhard you’ve been working y’self I know you’ve probably got a bit of timeanyways. But regardless, y’need a break, and it just so happens that I broughtover everythin’ we need for a nice stir fry. But while that gets ready, I thinkyou ought to go take a shower, or I can run you a bath?”

“Think a shower would be alright. But you really don’t haveto do all that Harry.” You hum as youstand up from your seat, seeing him already tidying your apartment as he makeshis way into the kitchen.

“ ‘s not a problem darling. Anythin’ for the girl I love.Now, go relax, you’ve more than earned a break.” With one last shooing motionyou finally relent and head towards your bathroom as Harry attempts tostraighten up your messy flat before getting started on dinner.

“I love you.” You call from the hallway, smiling to yourselfas you hear him fuss around in your kitchen.

“Not as much as I love you!” He calls back, making yougiggle as you grab some fresh clothes from your bedroom and head to shower.

As you hear him swear about cutting broccoli, you’re prettysure he’s right about that.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Anonymous #asks #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles drabble #harry styles drabbles #drabbles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles imagines #1dff #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles one shot #one direction one shot #harry styles written #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #fluff fic #harry styles oneshot

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cornelisdemooij · 5 years ago

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Innuendo Studios Research Masterpost - With More Links

This is my research list for The Alt-Right Playbook. It is a living document - I am typically adding sources faster than I am finishing the ones already on it. Notes and links below the list. Also, please note this does not include the hundreds of articles and essays I’ve read that also inform the videos - this is books, reports, and a few documentaries. Legend: Titles in bold -> finished Titles in italics -> partially finished *** -> livetweeted as part of #IanLivetweetsHisResearch (asterisks will be a link) The book I am currently reading will be marked as such. Media Manipulation & Disinformation Online, by Alice Marwick and Rebecca Lewis Alternative Influence, by Rebecca Lewis The Authoritarians, by Bob Altemeyer*** Eclipse of Reason, by Max Horkheimer Civility in the Digital Age, by Andrea Weckerle The Origins of Totalitarianism, by Hannah Arendt On Revolution, by Hannah Arendt Don’t Think of an Elephant, by George Lakoff The Shock Doctrine, by Naomi Klein How Propaganda Works, by Jason Stanley*** This is an Uprising, by Mark and Paul Engler Neoreaction a Basilisk, by Elizabeth Sandifer (Patreon) This Nonviolent Stuff’ll Get You Killed, by Charles E. Cobb, Jr. Mistakes Were Made (But Not By Me), by Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson Healing from Hate, by Michael Kimmel The Brainwashing of my Dad, documentary by Jen Senko On Bullshit, by Harry Frankfurt The Reactionary Mind, by Corey Robin*** Stamped from the Beginning, Ibram X. Kendi Fascism Today, by Shane Burley Indoctrination over Objectivity?, by Marrissa S. Ballard Ur-Fascism, by Umberto Eco Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, by Lindsay C. Gibson Anti-Semite and Jew, by Jean-Paul Sartre Alt-America, by David Neiwert The Dictator’s Handbook, by Bruce Bueno de Mesquita & Alastair Smith Terror, Love, and Brainwashing, by Alexandra Stein <- (currently reading) Kaputt, by Curzio Malaparte The Motion of Light in Water, by Samuel R. Delany Media Manipulation & Disinformation Online, by Alice Marwick and Rebecca Lewis (free: link) A monstrously useful report from Data & Society which- coupled with Samuel R. Delany’s memoir The Motion of Light in Water - formed the backbone of the Mainstreaming video. I barely scratched the surface of how many techniques the Far Right uses to inflate their power and influence. If you feel lost in a sea of Alt-Right bullshit, this will at least help you understand how things got the way they are, and maybe help you discern truth from twaddle. The Authoritarians, by Bob Altemeyer (free: link) (livetweets) A free book full of research from Bob Altemeyer’s decades of study into authoritarianism. Altemeyer writes conversationally, even jovially, peppering what could have been a dense and dry work with dad jokes. I wouldn’t say he’s funny (most dads aren’t), but it makes the book blessedly accessible. If you ever wanted a ton of data demonstrating that authoritarianism is deeply correlated with conservatism, this is the book. One of the most useful resources I’ve consumed so far, heavily influencing the entire series but most directly the video on White Fascism. Even has some suggestions for how to actually change the mind of a reactionary, which is kind of the Holy Grail of LeftTube. (caveats: there is a point in the book where Altemeyer throws a little shade on George Lakoff, and I feel he slightly - though not egregiously - misrepresents Lakoff’s arguments) Don’t Think of an Elephant, by George Lakoff An extremely useful book about framing. Delves into the differences between the American Right and Left when it comes to messaging, how liberal politicians tend to have degrees in things like Political Science and Rhetoric, where conservatives far more often have degrees in Marketing. This leads to two different cultures, where liberals have Enlightenment-style beliefs that all you need is good ideas and conservatives know an idea will only be popular if you know how to sell it. He gets into the nuts and bolts of how to keep control of a narrative, because the truth is only effective if the audience recognizes it as such. Kind of staggering how many Democrats swear by this book while blatantly taking none of its advice. Lakoff has been all over the series since the first proper video. (caveats: several. Lakoff seemingly believes the main difference between the Right and Left is in our default frames, and that swaying conservatives amounts to little more than finding better ways to make the same arguments. he deeply underestimates the ideological divide between Parties, and some of his advice reads as tips for making debates more pleasant but no more productive. he also makes a passing comparison between conservatism and Islam that means well but is a gross and kinda racist false equivalence) How Propaganda Works, by Jason Stanley (livetweets) A slog. Many useful concepts, and directly referenced in the White Fascism video. But could have said everything it needed to say in half as many pages. Stanley seems dedicated to framing everything in epistemological terms, not appealing to morality or sentiment, which means huge sections of the book are given over to “proving” democracy is a good thing using only philosophical concepts, when “democracy good” is probably something his readership already accepts. Also has a frustrating tendency to begin every paragraph with a brief summary of the previous paragraph. When he actually talks about, you know, how propaganda works, it’s very useful, and I don’t regret reading it. But I don’t entirely recommend it. Seems written for an imagined PhD review board. Might be better off reading my livetweets. Neoreaction a Basilisk, by Elizabeth Sandifer (Patreon) A trip. Similar to Jason Stanley, Sandifer is dedicated to “disproving” a number of Far Right ideologies - from transphobia to libertarianism to The Singularity - in purely philosophical terms. The difference is, she’s having fun with it. I won’t pretend the title essay - a 140-page mammoth - didn’t lose me several times, and someone had to remind which of its many threads was the thesis. And some stretches are dense, academic writing punctuated with vulgarity and (actually quite clever) jokes, which doesn’t always average out to the playfully heady tone she’s going for. But, still, frequently brilliant and never less than interesting. There is something genuinely cathartic about a book that begins with the premise that we all fear but won’t let ourselves meaningfully consider - that we will lose the fight with the Right and climate change is going to kill us all - and talks about what we can do in that event. I felt I didn’t even have to agree with the premise to feel strangely empowered by it. Informed the White Fascism video’s comments on transphobia as the next frontier of bigotry since failing to prevent marriage equality. On Bullshit, by Harry Frankfurt Was surprised to find this isn’t properly a book, just a printed essay. Highly relevant passage that helped form my description of 4chan in The Card Says Moops: “What tends to go on in a bull session is that the participants try out various thoughts and attitudes in order to see how it feels to hear themselves saying such things and in order to discover how others respond, without its being assumed that they are committed to what they say: it is understood by everyone in a bull session that the statements people make do not necessarily reveal what they really believe or how they really feel. The main point is to make possible a high level of candor and an experimental or adventuresome approach to the subjects under discussion. Therefore provision is made for enjoying a certain irresponsibility, so that people will be encouraged to convey what is on their minds without too much anxiety that they will be held to it. [paragraph break] Each of the contributors to a bull session relies, in other words, upon a general recognition that what he expresses or says is not to be understood as being what he means wholeheartedly or believes unequivocally to be true. The purpose of the conversation is not to communicate beliefs.” The Reactionary Mind, by Corey Robin (livetweets) Another freakishly useful book, and the basis for Always a Bigger Fish and The Origins of Conservatism. Jumping into the history of conservative thought, going all the way back to Thomas Hobbes, to stress that conservatism is, and always has been, about preserving social hierarchies and defending the powerful. Robin dissects thinkers who heavily influenced conservatism, from Edmund Burke and Friedrich Nietzsche to Carl Menger and Ayn Rand, and finally concluding with Trump himself. There’s a lot of insight into how the conservative mind works, though precious little comment on what we can do about it, which somewhat robs the book of a conclusion. Still, the way it bounces off of Don’t Think of an Elephant and The Authoritarians really brings the Right into focus. Fascism Today, by Shane Burley Yet another influence on the White Fascism video. Bit of a mixed bag. The opening gives a proper definition of fascism, which is extremely useful. Then the main stretch delves into the landscape of modern fascism, from Alt-Right to Alt-Lite to neofolk pagans to the Proud Boys and on and on. Sometimes feels overly comprehensive, but insights abound on the intersections of all these belief systems (Burley pointing out that the Alt-Right is, in essence, the gentrification of working-class white nationalists like neo-Nazi skinheads and the KKK was a real eye-opener). But the full title is Fascism Today: What it is and How to End it, and it feels lacking in the second part. Final stretch mostly lists a bunch of efforts to address fascism that already exist, how they’ve historically been effective, and suggestions for getting involved. Precious few new ideas there. And maybe the truth is that we already have all the tools we need to fight fascism and we simply need to employ them, and being told so is just narratively unsatisfying. Or maybe it’s a structural problem with the book, that it doesn’t reveal a core to fascism the way Altemeyer reveals a core to authoritarianism and Robin reveals a core to conservatism, so I don’t come away feeling like I get fascism well enough to fight it. But, also, Burley makes it clear that modern fascism is a rapidly evolving virus, and being told that old ways are still the best ways isn’t very satisfying. If antifascism isn’t evolving at least as rapidly, it doesn’t seem like we’re going to win. (caveats: myriad. For one, Burley repeatedly quotes Angela Nagle’s Kill All Normies, which does not inspire confidence. He also talks about “doxxing fascists” as a viable strategy without going into the differences between “linking a name to a face at a public event” and “hacking someone’s email to publicly reveal their bank information,” where the former is the strategy that fights fascism and the latter is vigilantism that is practiced widely on the Right and only by the worst actors on the Left. Finally, the one section where Burley discusses an area I had already thoroughly researched was GamerGate, and he got quite a few facts wrong, which makes me question how accurate all the parts I hadn’t researched were. I don’t want to drive anyone away from the book, because it was still quite useful, but I recommend reading it only in concert with a lot of other sources so you don’t get a skewed perspective.) Healing from Hate, by Michael Kimmel (Michael Kimmel, it turns out, is a scumbag. This book’s main thesis is that we need to look at violent extremism through the lens of toxic masculinity, so Kimmel’s toxic history with women is massively disappointing. Book itself is, in many ways, good, but, you know, retweets are not endorsement.) A 4-part examination of how men get into violent extremism through the lens of the organizations that help them get out: EXIT in Germany and Sweden, Life After Hate in the US, and The Quilliam Foundation in Europe and North America. Emphasizing that entry into white nationalism - and, to an extent, jihadism - is less ideological than social. Young men enter these movements out of a need for community, purpose, and a place to put their anger. They feel displaced and mistreated by society - and often, very tangibly, are - and extremism offers a way to prove their manhood. Feelings of emasculation is a major theme. The actual politics of extremism are adopted gradually. They are, in a sense, the price of admission for the community and the sense of purpose. The most successful exit strategies are those that address these feelings of loneliness and emasculation and build social networks outside the movement, and not ones that address ideology first - the ideology tends to wither with the change in environment. The book itself can be a bit repetitive, but these observations are very enlightening. (caveats: the final chapter on militant Islam is deeply flawed. Kimmel clearly didn’t get as much access to Qulliam as he had to EXIT and Life After Hate, so his data is based far less on direct interviews with counselors and former extremists and much more on other people’s research. despite the chapter stressing that a major source of Muslim alienation is racism, Kimmel focuses uncomfortably much on white voices - the majority of researchers he quotes are white Westerners, and the few interviews he manages are mostly with white converts to Islam rather than Arabs or South Asians. all in all, the research feels thinner, and his claims about militant Islam seem much more conjectural when they don’t read as echos of other people’s opinions.)

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roxannepolice · 6 years ago

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What would happen in the manicheic story version of the trilogy? Where would that go?

Short answer: read Reysabella’s soliloquy in the last fb scene in Jedi the Last.

Alright, now long answer.

First of all, here’s a thing: any epic story in which one can pinpoint (or it is handed on a silver platter) a difference between hero(es) and villain(s) is a story about that difference and not about struggle between good and evil, with all the nuances serving the purpose of further underlining how very important that one difference is. What I would say makes a story manicheic or not isn’t necessarily that it has or not moral relativism (as in, there’s no difference between good and evil/they’re only constructs meant to control the masses, basically go read Nietzsche only don’t forget syphilis affects the brain) but rather that instead of showing the reality of the heaviness of struggle taking place in each individual soul, it gives one side of a very worldly conflict some inherent difference from the other one.

Before delving into Star Wars, I would compare (without necessarily giving any esthetic/intelectual/dramatic judgments) The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter: LOTR is a story about struggle between good and evil, HP is a story about love being the difference between good and evil. Again, I don’t think anyone would say LOTR doesn’t clearly differentiate between heroes and villains - it does. But that being said, it also gives us noble people falling on our eyes

powerful sages acknowledging their tempation

characters in fact very similar to the hero failing

and finally, the hero’s eventual near failure.

LOTR acknowledges the reality of struggle, in fact it gives us a hint that characters that do not fall manage to do that either thanks to the wisdom they’ve achieved over the ages (this factor being the reason why Saruman is totally badass but not really sympathetic like Boromir or Smeagol, like - he should have known better) or… thanks to recognizing themselves in the ones that have fallen. Frodo and Aragorn feel genuine compassion towards Smeagol and Boromir - they can imagine themselves stumbling in their footsteps, in a way they can be grateful that they received such a firm warning at their expense. And still - LOTR isn’t even preaching that compassion is somehow inherently tied to good, we have very good characters (Sam) not being instinctively compassionate towards everyone and Frodo himself has to grow in order to find pity for Smeagol - the story acknowledes that compassion isn’t something people just have or not, it’s something we achieve through experience.

One could argue that LOTR is a story that juxtaposes power and civilization with simple life and nature but even that doesn’t really hold - simple, humble life may make the inner struggle easier, but a) it doesn’t make one immune to it (again, Frodo almost failed at desroying the ring), b) doesn’t make power something inherently evil, since even the three elven rings are rings of power and c) the same applies to civilization, as both dwarves and people are valued exacly for their achievements in this sphere - Treebeard isn’t there to tell us don’t cut not one tree or kill one animal, I dgaf about your need for a house and food only don’t treat nature as if it was nothing but a resource for you that you can exploit how much you like. Oh, an obviously it doesn’t say violence is always wrong and peace at all costs is always right, since two of the main characters are having a contest which one of them kills more orcs.

In summary, LOTR says yes, there is a very real difference between good and evil - but it is not in our power to pinpoint that difference; if we could the struggle wouldn’t be real. Maybe the difference exists in the realm in which our great but limited conceptual thinking is simply powerless. It’s in fact a very humble and unpleasant message we get from LOTR.

Now, let’s take a look at HP. First of all, for what is essentially a coming of age story with magic in it, HP is waaaay above average in terms of moral grayness. We have a mentor figure who f*cked up in life

a heartbreaking redemption arc

and characters who get plain lost

not to mention loads of ciritcal attitude towards authority. That being said, this story has, or actually hands on a silver platter, the difference between the main villain and the main hero - love. And it’s a beautiful, great and deep message. But compared to LOTR, it is a simplification. This is the story we want to hear, because we want to hear that so long as you don’t … you’ll end up fine.

So what about Star Wars? OT and, for what it can be judged considering we knew the outcome, PT are definitely closer to the LOTR-type story. We have mentors acknowledging how difficult the struggle is (even if they actually go overboard in the other direction - jedi of old would ban themselves from everything that could remotely lead them to the dark side, which was utterly stupid but it was acknowledging the reality of the struggle), political conflict that won’t get resolved through rightness of the cause itself (rebellion by the time we meet it is a 20 year old conspiratory organisation involving senators and high rank militants; oh and about visuals - Hux’s SKB scene reeks of Riefenstahl? yeah, the medal ceremony in ANH isn’t free of that esthetic either - which isn’t a way of saying rebels are actually more nazi than we thought? only Leni Riefenstahl was a damn good movie maker, like it or not) and the hero whose triumph lies in dramatically recognizing the real opponent is in himself, simultaneously rejecting everything that his mentors were telling him to do. Hell, RotS actually has a there are heroes on both sides line in the opening crawl.

And ST? Weeeeellll….. it could just go HP on us, in fact I’m pretty sure that’s what much of the audience wants, probably because many of us are the HP generation - and HP sends a much more flattering message. On the one hand we have a stormtrooper becoming one of the main heroes - but this only sounds gray but is actually much less morally challenging than it seems - bad guy becoming good (before he’s ever done anything that would actually make him a bad guy in the first place, I might add) reaffirms how right the right side is, as opposed to good guy becoming bad reminding us it is not so obvious. On the other hand we have a scavenger woman with no formal training (yeah, this trilogy is telling us we don’t need teachers, just be kind and necessary knowledge will be awarded to you!) who had any right to become evil but didn’t juxtaposed with a formally trained prince who had all the environment to be good but became evil; good, brave, guys we feel absolutely not worried about when there’s a few dozen of them left, with only like 3? having proper miliatry and political experience, but they’re in the right so they gonna win; an evil organization that became evil, rouse from the dark side, when everything was perfect; bad guys using overflowing amounts of violence while good guys only when absolutely necessary.

There’s one thing I’m pretty sure of at this point - this trilogy won’t have an individual redemption. That would basically make it dramatically redundant, with plot going from point A (destroyed empire, one guy redeemed) to point A (destroyed empire, one guy redeemed). The fact that they made FO direct heirs of the empire can mean two things - either OTrio didn’t deal with the empire as they should have or the writers are beyond lazy. Assuming it’s the former, we’re either heading for a reintegraton of many of fo members into the galaxy or setting an abslutely uncrossable difference between the two sides of the conflict with annihilation of the wrong side. Basically speaking - any story in which you can pinpoint an inherent differnce between Rey and Kylo Ben will be about that difference and not connection between them. So after 2 hours of pewpewpew Resistance will vanquish FO by the sheer power of how right they are and Rey, rousseanian wild child, will rebuild jedi that will just be better than the old ones because she’s incapable of making the same mistakes as old jedi and either kill Kylo Ben in a situation of absolute necessity stemming from his evilness or forgive him because that sends a more flattering better message.

boring, I know but making it interesting is absolutely unonceivable for a good deal of audience

Any last bit of analytical thinking is telling me we’re heading for coniunctio oppositorum. Tears in my childhood’s icon’s eyes as he talks of his perfect student saving immaculate good guys while opposing his evil nephew not killing him only because he’s too good for that badly want to tell my emotions otherwise. And I can’t stand it when my brain hemispheres are conflicted.

#episode ix speculation #star wars #reylo #cultural ramblings

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missmisanthropic · 7 years ago

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Good luck with your finals and thank you for accepting this. As this comes a bit late, you’ll get 7 questions for this first ask (no deadline so you can reply at your earliest convenience). Name (and elaborate why if you wish to) your top: 1 book-to-film/tv show adaptation, 2 celebrity crushes, 3 movies/tv shows, 4 male characters, 5 female characters, 6 relationships/pairings, 7 quotes/dialogues.

Hi Advent Calendar Anon!

Aww, thank you. I truly appreciate your well wishes and am honored to participate. Thank /you/ for doing this! :-)

1.The Harry Potter series! The books and films were like a second companion to me through my childhood. While I do agree the earlier films had a better showing than the later adaptions (in terms of honoring the books), it was cool to kind of grow up with the characters. Also, I’m partial to books/show that involve magic (and basilisks ).

2.Oh, these change quite frequently. I’m currently rather taken with Adelaide Kane and um, Daisy Ridley. (Lowkey breaking the rules, but Emilia Clarke would be a contender among others…)

3.Lilo and Stitch, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and Frozen.

4.Oh, well let’s see here…: Harry Potter (more so because I went through the journey with him. He’s alright.) , Clark Kent (in general, but Smallville comes to mind. Gentleman ftw.), Eric from the Little Mermaid (he was my favorite prince, as a kid, when asked to pick one. He’s Extra), and um, Gatsby from the Great Gatsby (his determination, which some may call obsession, was inspiring and kind of sad to read about).

5. This will be hard, haha. I love so many: Princess Leia (she’s a badass), Hermione Granger (I enjoyed reading how studious she was–I feel she’s a good role model.), Morgana Pendragon (long live Morgana! Her personal story arc can be relatable for some people. It’s probably why she’s one of my faves.),

Leliana from Dragon Age (she’s really great with bow and arrow, knives, and…probably could make most things into a weapon. Assassin prowess aside, she goes through a lot of personal growth [well, in my MC’s play through] and can give hope to people about righting past wrongs.), and um, Xena the Warrior Princess (I saw the reruns as a kid. Eventually won my parents over enough to track down the box sets long after production of them. Xena was probably the first character I got /really/ attached to and wanted to emulate. I’ve not seen the series in ages, but remember literally mourning her [drew a sword + grave stone with ‘RIP Xena’ on a sticky note with blue flowers, which was pointedly placed on my parents’ door.] when my parents said I was too young to continue the series.) >.>

6. Hmm, I’ll do a bit of a throwback: Faberry (probs my first ship? Didn’t know Ao3 existed back then, but they were the reason why I used fanfiction.net), Quinntana (Fayana (so much potential. I will not get started on a rant though), Warden/Leliana (one of the best video game romances. I liked the depth…wish more games took notes from DA:O), Morgana + Aithusa (yes, obviously as a friendship. >.> This may seem obscure, but Morgana went through /so/ much and the fact the dragon stood by her and she by the dragon was touching to me. I admire it. If someone just gave Morgana some of their time and a chance…ugh.), and um, Lilo + Stitch (again, friendship or actually they became family. It’s sweet! Family isn’t always dictated by blood or uh, planet…or species).

7. Yay! I love quotes so much:

“She was like the moon—part of her was always hidden away.” ― Dia Reeves, Bleeding Violet

“It’s all too much and not enough at the same time”.— Jack Kerouac (via quotemadness)“They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it”.— Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (via books-n-quotes)“You’re so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.”— Tracy Chevalier (via quotemadness)“People talk sometimes of a bestial cruelty, but that’s a great injustice and insult to the beasts; a beast can never be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel.”— Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (via books-n-quotes)“This is the secret of the stars, I tell myself. In the end, we are alone. No matter how close you seem, no one else can touch you.”— Beth Revis, Across the Universe “Her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.”— Virginia Woolf, Orlando: A Biography

Hope you have a lovely day/night!

#asks #um...I kind of took it as the question number quantifying how many things I'm supposed to answer with. Like 2 crushes as opposed to 5 etc.#not sure if that's right; but this was fun so thank you #thank you for the ask #advent calender #advent calender anon #<3

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katsitting · 7 years ago

Text

Alchemy

AN: Thank you so much for leaving a prompt! I don’t know if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it either way. It is certainly dark, and well, that is what I just automatically do. All typos are my own. (I also love your work, so I am hyped to write this for you <3) @reneehartblog

Rating: M

Warnings: Dark Themes, Explicit Violence, Depression, Mentions of Character Death, and Angst (Tons of it).

“All things are subject to interpretation, whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.”- Friedriche Nietzsche

“Tell me, Harry. What is it that you know of the world?”

The question came unbidden, the darkness swallowing the faint light trickling from the open entrance-way. It was like a gun-shot in absolute silence.The voice disrupting the little peace Harry had found while dozing off in the small living room.

Harry had not expected it, for this presence to slip through his senses and bleed into the crevices of his mind. Not since he had mastered (though it was arguable if it would ever had satisfied Snape’s standards) the art of Occlumency weeks prior at the camp. It had diluted the heat that came with the strange whispers in his head, with the seductive utterances promising things Harry knew the monster could not achieve.

It had been a mercy to silence that voice, but Harry knew that he would not have the luxury of his mental walls to save him now. Not when Tom Riddle was here, and not some figment of his imagination. Not some ghost, a sad memory of what he had lost because of a broken soul’s cruelty.

Harry lifted his gaze from his lap, slowly drinking in the sight of dark polished shoes and finely tailored slacks. Tom Riddle’s legs looked thicker than he remembered them looking in the clearing, the outline of cut calves and toned thighs drawing in Harry’s vision despite himself. Similar to how they had looked standing in the clearing over the bodies of his--

Stop it.

Harry shook himself from the reverie before casting a tired glance at the man. Harry felt his neck protest from how sharply an angle he had to incline his head, but there was no helping this. Harry had been sitting on the chair for some time now, lost in thought before Riddle had come in.

And then Harry looked at him, focused his bespectacled eyes on a face he’d hoped he would never see again. At least, not in the flesh. Because there was no mistaking that Tom Riddle was standing in the middle of his living room, immaculate and pristine as if he’d come straight from a fancy party.

Here was the man rather than the fiction. A piece of the monster, Harry recalled, rather than the whole, watching him with a pleased twist to his lips.

He was no longer a disembodied voice that murmured sweet threats into his head, but solid flesh. He was no longer the ghost that had made Hermione fade like smoke in a windy afternoon or the monster that had murdered Ron in cold blood. He was no longer the locket that had lain between his chest and shirt, its heat pulsing strangely like a beating heart.

Harry slowly raised his hand to clasp around the locket wrapped around his throat, his fingers digging into the metal as if it would relieve him of the danger he was in.

What could he possibly say? What words could he string together to answer such a blithe question as that?

What do you know of the world?

Harry knew loneliness. He knew what life was like without his two best friends at his side, to give him strength when he was unsure of his own. He knew of hatred, and the lengths a demon would take to ensure that his plans came through.

Harry knew of monsters and angels. He knew more than he should about the cruelty the world was capable of, that Tom Riddle was capable of. And he knew that any answer he could think of would never be good enough.

The world was black and white, with hints of red between the curling edges of reality. He knew the birth of Tom Riddle and of the rise of Lord Voldemort. He knew the weight of Tom Riddle’s soul against his chest, of how the weak thing writhed against his ribs through dense metal.

He knew it all and more. But still, he remained silent.

“I can see the words dancing behind your eyes, can taste the sound of it on my tongue. Speak, Harry. What is it that you wish to say?” Tom Riddle said, his rigid posture completely at odds with the almost gentle sound of his voice. Harry felt his mouth go dry, the shock of it enough to make him stand from where he’d been sitting for Merlin knows how long.

I know loneliness. I know grief. I know loss.

Harry wanted to say, but the words refused to come. He couldn’t admit just how much pain he felt, could not find the courage to voice just how alone he felt. He couldn’t tell the man that he missed even the company of a dirty soul against his chest, of how he’d rather have shite company than suffer through another moment of the pitying glances from everyone in the camp.

It was, in the end, all he had left now.

And he hated himself for it. He wished he could begrudge everyone that looked pityingly at him. Wished that he could shout and scream at them, show them that he didn’t need that when all he wanted was company. He wanted to hate them for ignoring him, for isolating him in his tent when what he really needed was a firm pat on the back or a shoulder to cry on.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t blame them when everyone that grew too close to him died. When associating with Harry James Potter was but a death sentence. It was the natural fate of those cherished by the Boy Who Lived. It was the reality.

Though, that didn't change the fact that he was lonely. It did not erase the agony that flared between his ribs at the memory of those lost, of his godfather's face as he fell through the veil, of Ron's blue eyes flickering out, and of Hermione's cries as she vanished like an errant thought. No, it didn’t defeat the reality that Harry wanted even unwanted company to relieve him of this misery.

But still, Harry bit his tongue until iron burned on the flesh. The bitter taste as oppressive as the cloak of grief and apathy in his heart.

He would rather die than say the words swirling in his head. He would rather fall over than give the man the satisfaction. He was Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Gryffindor by birth. He was the chosen one, and prophesied to save Britain from the reign of a mad man.

He couldn’t afford to let himself crumble. He was all the resistance had. He couldn’t just roll over and die, even when he wanted nothing more than to just walk to his death and let it be the end of it.

It was his purpose. It was why Dumbledore had sent him and his friends off on this mission. It was why Voldemort wanted to kill him. He had no other choice. Because he just couldn’t just be selfish and give up when so many were counting on him. Not when Ron and Hermione had died in order to defeat the Dark Lord. He couldn’t let their memory be tarnished in this way.

No, Harry knew his fate.

And now, in the presence of the devil himself, he had to make a choice. Even if the desire to just lay on his back and give in was all too tempting. He could not allow the darkness percolating in his heart to swallow him as easily as Tom Riddle’s presence overshadowed the moonlight in his tent. As easily as Tom Riddle had likely found him in the tent, following perhaps, the connection that flowed between them. Even when this was a Horcrux and not the shell of the person the real Voldemort was.

It was funny, in a way. To see the monster he had hidden from for so long in this dingy tent. Riddle looked so completely out of place, with his dark hair and vibrant red eyes. If someone had told him that Tom Riddle would live once more, that another piece of his soul would come to life and chase after Harry as well, he would have thought that stranger mad.

He would have laughed in their face, would have stared them in the eyes as he determined just what to do with that awful joke.

But this was his reality. This was what Harry had to deal with after the Horcrux had overtaken Ron’s mind. Harry had hoped then that his friend would have been able to overcome the sibilant lies, would have been able to resist the allure of a fictitious Hermione beneath the shadows.

And it had certainly looked like Ron would. The vibrant blue of his eyes so intense that Harry had been convinced then that Ron would pull through and smash the sword into the misty locket.

But that never came to pass, and now, all Harry had was his own loneliness and guilt to contend to.

Harry was drawn away from his thoughts by the sound of the man clearing his throat, by the slow twist of pale lips forming into a soft grin. It was an expression Harry had not thought the Dark Lord capable of, accustomed to the leer of Tom Riddle's more...snake-like counterpart.

But this man was not Voldemort. Well. He wasn’t the same Voldemort. This was someone entirely new. This was a man that had yet to shed his skin. He was still pretty, resembling the pleasant boy Harry had seen what felt like years ago in the Pensieve in Dumbledore’s office.

“Are you not going to answer? How...rude.” The man said, the smile growing more sharp and unpleasant on his face. “Is this how you treat your guests?”

“No,” Harry replied without thought. It came unbidden, the word sharp on his tongue despite weeks of disuse. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he had spoken to another. The memory of Hermione’s pained cries and Ron’s unseeing eyes robbing him of his ability to speak.

People at the camp thought him broken. That he was a mere shell of who he was.

But Harry knew that he was still himself. He was still Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who killed without ever having to lift his wand or utter a spell.

He was still the precursor of death. He was still the same boy that had placed his hands on Quirrel’s face and watched the man burn.

Harry had not changed. He certainly didn’t feel like he had.

“No, you are not going to answer or no, this is not how you treat your guests?”

Harry paused for a moment, mulling over whether he should entertain the man at all. What did it matter if he answered? What could Tom Riddle possibly want at all? He had a body now, had slipped away from his prison after ripping Ron’s soul straight from his body.

There was no need for him to chase after Harry. No need at all to linger in his thoughts like an infection rotting him from the inside.

“...why are you here? Was it not enough that you got a body of your own? There is nothing more than you could take.” Harry said, watching the way Tom Riddle's lips grew wider and his eyes brightened. Harry could see the amusement there, could see the way the man struggled to keep himself composed despite all the aloof masks the man had worn as a teenage boy.

“You still don’t know?” Riddle purred, stepping further into the tent without sparring the entrance a glance. Harry watched him prowl like a cat, his steps fluid and his hair like liquid tar as the moonlight shone on the brilliant strands.

He looked angelic beneath the faint glow, his skin more luminous and his lips more pink. His eyes were a wildfire and Harry felt a sharp pain cut him to the bone.

Red like Ron’s hair. Red like Ron’s blood.

Red, red, red.

Harry felt his breath suddenly leave him, his hands shaking as he remained perfectly still in the middle of the meager living room. He tried not to flinch when Riddle closed the space with three fluid strides, his presence a force that threatened the little sanity Harry had gathered into his palms.

“...you and I are more than simple enemies. There is more that binds us, Harry. More than the magic that electrifies air, more than a wand in the hands of a powerful witch. What we have, what you are, is something which transcends the laws of time and space. You should never have been, and yet, here you are. Breathing the same air as I, your eyes burning with the same power as I.”

Harry did not move when Riddle lifted his hand to press a light touch to Harry's cheek, a thumb caressing his cheek bone like a riveted child. Voldemort’s eyes were stormy, the swirl of emotion similar to the burning insanity in Voldemort’s eyes when he had risen from the grave. But this was a different sort of insanity, Harry knew.

This was pleasure and delight. Riddle was pleased. The locket, now reborn, was delighted by something as innocuous as this.

Harry did not understand. He could not understand.

“What are you--”

“Hush, just feel. You will miss it if you ignore the call writhing in your blood, twisting inside for a chance to escape…” Riddle interrupted, his voice low and whispy. Harry clicked his mouth shut, and debated fighting him on this. He felt the familiar burn of his tenacity and strong-will surge to life, the emotion foreign as it danced along the back of his tongue.

...but it was not the only thing Harry felt. There was something thrumming in the back of his eyes. A something that Harry could not see even though his glasses sat perfectly atop the bridge of his nose. It was a something Harry had often felt right before bed, a twinge of emotion before he’d smother it through the will of his mind.

Harry felt the initial stirrings of panic, his resignation and apathy breaking apart as the strange magic stirred within him.

Harry did not want it. He did not want to feel anything at all. He did not want to face the reality of what this connection could mean, of what it did mean. It wasn’t normal. It shouldn’t be possible.

But it was, and Harry was certain it would be a mistake to ignore this. To pretend that Riddle’s touch pressing along his flesh did not make his stomach flutter strangely.

“D-don’t touch me,” Harry whispered, the words nearly breaking at the end when Riddle did not listen. His touch was insistent, the pull against his belly sharper and more intense the longer Riddle prolonged the simple contact.

And yet, in spite of this. In spite of the freedom in his limbs, against all rational thought, Harry did not move away. He felt as though his legs had been glued to the ground below. Like a veil had been cast over his senses, defeating the fear and anxiety screaming for him to move.

"But I must, this is your destiny. To live endlessly with my touch and my voice transforming you to fit the purpose you were born to follow. You, Harry James Potter, were made for me."

Harry shook his head, watching Riddle's fingers fall away from his cheek before finding the will to move back, and step away. He felt the chair he’d been sitting on earlier bump against the back of his knees, but he paid it no mind. All that mattered in that instant was getting away. He couldn't permit this. He shouldn't let Riddle do as he pleased.

Not after he had--

"No, I am my own person. I-I don't know what this strange connection is, but I am definitely not made for you. Hell, I guess in a sense I was born to defeat you. To watch you fall from that high horse you're sitting on. Though...I don't think that really needs much work from my end, right?. You're a downright mess. Your snake-faced self has certainly done a fine job of making himself into a complete wan--"

"I know what you're doing, and it will not work, Harry," Riddle interrupted, eyes flashing with something predatory. It was the only warning Harry had before Riddle was on him. Riddle’s hand slipped around his waist, his fingers snatching his wand from his pocket before crushing him to Riddle's chest.

Harry felt all his air leave him, felt the connection flare to life at the same time as Riddle dug his fingers into his hair to pull him closer. Much too close to Riddle's smiling face.

"You want to provoke me, you want to see me blind with rage so that I not show you the reality of you. Of us."

Harry grit his teeth and struggled within the man's arms almost instinctively. He pushed his knees, slipped his hands around the man's chest to dig his fingers into Riddle's ribs. The violence was heady, the fear was nauseating as Harry watched Riddle's gaze flicker downward to eye the promise of violence in Harry’s hands before turning back to Harry’s own, verdant eyes.

Harry glared, and Riddle laughed. The sound dark and deep, melodic and jarring in the otherwise silent room.

"Yes, go on. Hurt me. Show me just how much I've changed you. Show me just how mine you are."

And then Harry saw red, toxic anger rushing from up his spine before he attacked. He tugged harshly on Riddle's shirt, he kicked at the man's knees, punched at the man's gut.

Harry saw the red of Ron's hair in his mind's eye. He saw the red pools of blood dripping from the open wound in his best friend’s chest. He could practically taste the metal on his tongue, could almost reach out and touch the substance between his palms.

Harry leaned forward, unable to erase the anguish and the memory of Ron's brutal death from his mind, before biting down on Tom's shoulder. There was a rush of something, a heat more suffocating than the anger welling in his chest, but Harry was too far gone now.

He didn't care when something coppery exploded in his mouth, didn't care that his fingers were wet and that his toes ached from kicking as hard as he could. It didn't matter that his teeth twinged with pain, and that he was gnawing on skin with more force than he thought able. Nothing mattered but the anger, the oppressive heat and the rage.

The delicious, blinding rage.

"Yess, that's it..." Harry heard Riddle croon into his head, and it was like cold water had been poured over his head.

Harry moved so quickly he was surprised the world around him had not tilted on its axis, that he had not slipped from his shaking legs in his haste to get away. He shot his gaze to the entrance way, unable and unwilling to look at the man he'd practically mauled like some...animal.

Merlin, what have I done?

Harry wanted to be sick. He could feel the viscous fluid between his fingernails, could feel them between his fingers and on his chin. He could taste the metal on his tongue, and Harry felt his throat burn with his desire to upchuck the little sustenance he had eaten for lunch earlier that day.

Harry chanced a glance to his hands, and flinched at the bright red. It was jarring, the sticky substance like the screams of the dying in a silent hall.

Harry closed his eyes immediately, and ignored the sound of soft laughter a short distance in front of him. If he just pretended Riddle was not there then perhaps he could--

"Oh, Harry. You are like raw metal, waiting to be beaten and melted into the perfect blade. Look at how easily you gave in to the call for violence...such potential, such callousness when in the face of an enemy..."

"No, I am nothing like you. Nothing!" Harry shouted, eyes shooting open to shoot the monster a glare.

And the sight that met him was something Harry was sure would haunt him for the rest of his days. It was something out off a horror film. It was the second most horrible thing he had ever seen in his life, nearly as awful as Ron's dead body.

"We are more alike than you think. And with time, I am sure I can transform you from blackened coal to gold..." Riddle murmured, but Harry barely heard him over the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

Riddle’s neck was red, the skin torn and ripped like a rubber band pulled too tightly. The skin was frayed, and Harry felt his stomach heave when Riddle lifted one hand to press into the wound and pull a tuft of skin that had broken from his throat.

“It’s fascinating, really. I have learned that the Philosopher's stone is not the only thing that could be created through alchemy...” Riddle said, casting his gaze to the mound of flesh from his neck before turning his attention back to Harry.

Harry felt acid burn his throat, his stomach churning when Riddle began to move, his steps inaudible as he skirted around the wooden chair propped against Harry’s meager dining table. Harry slipped his fingers to his pocket, noticing then that Riddle had returned his wand. He quickly wrapped his fingers around its comforting weight and pointed it at Riddle’s approaching form, unable to think of when and how Riddle had found the chance to slip it into his trousers.

Riddle’s gaze did not falter, boring so deeply into Harry’s own panicked gaze that Harry was certain he could feel his mental walls crack.

“With proper equipment and patience, people can also be made into something new. Into something better.”

“I’d rather die.” Harry declared instantly, ignoring for the moment the metal in his mouth, the stickiness in his fingers, to speak. He would worry about that later, he would think about his actions later, but for now…

Now, Harry had to act.

“In a manner of speaking, you will. To be reborn, you must die. But do not fret, it will only be temporary. What use are you to me permanently broken?”

“You’re absolutely mad if you think I’ll just let you do as you please. If you think for one second that I’ll t-turn into whatever it is that you want me to become. My name is Harry Potter, and there is nothing you could do. Nothing you could say, that will ever change that.”

“Even rock collapses after constant pressure from the ocean.”

Harry raised his wand higher, and Riddle smirked at him. Pleasure and amusement swimming within the crimson pools as he stopped just centimeters from Harry’s wand. His chest brushing along the wood, seemingly uncaring of the fact that Harry was threatening to curse him to oblivion.

“You will collapse, my Horcrux. And when you do, I will be there. Ready to catch you as you fall.”

#one word prompt #tomarry #harrymort #reneehartblog #this got dark fast #I'm sorry #I just learned how to use the read more thing

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expectopatronuts · 8 years ago

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Harry Potter Characters as Philosophers

·Grindewald: Plato. Thinks philosophers are superior to non-philosophers. Wants philosophers to rule over everything. Wants to throw the poets out of his ideal city. All is part of his plan to reach Goodness.

·Dumbledore: Kant. Preaches a morality impossible to live by unless you lock yourself in your room for thirty years to write three very difficult books or are a stoic. Extremely gay for Plato.

·Harry: Epictetus, a stoic. Takes everything in stride. Tries his best at repressing emotion and controlling passion (though he doesn’t always succeed). Follows the doctrine of self-reliance to the extreme. Has learnt to accept death as no more frightful than life.

·Hermione: Hannah Arendt. Calls you out for being a disgusting human being. Tries to educate people around her. Social warrior for minorities. Sometimes turns a blind eye for those she loves; maybe forgives them too easily.

·Ron: Hume. Understandable by all. Has few ideas, but the ones he has are great. Instantly likable, though sometimes he can get a bit tiring. His thought is much deeper than people usually give him credit for. Despite his passionate defence of rationalism, a statue of him in Edinburgh has become a good luck charm.

·McGonagall: Sun-Tzu. Advocates peace, but is always ready for war. Always has a back-up plan. Fair to the troops. Good strategist and better leader.

·Lucius Malfoy: Peter Abelard. Tried to convince his father not to become a monk, with the result that his father became a monk and his mother a nun. Named his son Astrolabe. Got his dick cut off while he slept. Fled to a monastery. The monks tried to poison him. He fled again. His life was a fucking trainwreck.

·Draco: Adorno. Pretentious as fuck. At his best when dragging his enemies through the mud or when being aesthetic™

Narcissa Malfoy: Hipparchia of Maroneia. Fell passionately in love, and followed her beloved into the lifestyle of the cynics. When she married him, their status was that of equals. Became a cynic philospher on her own merits. May have influenced Zeno’s views on sex and love. Was completely unashamed of her own body. The most unappreciated woman in history.

·Snape: Wittgenstein. Rejected the views he had in his youth but was still highly problematic. Was a dick 93.6% of the time. Very good with logic and language. Had zero (0) patience for teaching and maltreated his students, but genuinely thought that was the best way to make them learn. Emotionally unstable, terrible family history. Left a lot of unanswered questions. Sparks violent debate amongst scholars.

·Voldemort: Heidegger. His name inspires reverence. Nobody knows exactly what he thought, but his rhetoric was on point. Nazi.

·Luna: Epicurus. “What is good is easy to get, what is terrible is easy to endure”. Genuinely well-meaning, and undeterred by public opinion. Values friendship above all else.

·Ginny Weasley: Simone de Beauvoir. The most badass woman you will ever meet. Feminist. wlw. Takes every oportunity available. Takes zero shit. Can and will fight you.

·Neville: Aristotle. Unwavering sense of justice. Ethically irreproachable. Loves plants a lot. Really, a lot.

·The Gringotts Dragon: Karl Marx. Needs no explanation.

·Peter Pettigrew: Gorgias. Not much has reached us about him. His opinions were extremely controversial and hard to defend, but he was a very convincing speaker.

·Lupin: Heraclitus. Hides behind riddles, appearances, and flase paradoxes. Leads a very lonely life. “How can you hide from what never goes away?” Has an extremely interesting insight on things that few others can understand.

·Sirius: Nietzsche. Didn’t quite fit in with his family and came to conflict with them. Is passionate to the point of violence, and unafraid to express his opinion. Makes the problems he tackles deeply personal. Was a bit mentally unstable at the end of his life. Extremely gay for Heraclitus.

·James Potter: Protagoras. Concerned with virtue and justice. His words have reached us without much context and are therefore open to interpretation. Very little is known about him, but it’s generally agreed that he’s a first-rate thinker.

·Newt Scamander: Seneca the Younger. “The mind that is anxious about future events is miserable.”

·Regulus: Averroes. Every member of his family from time inmemorial had been a lawyer. He became a lawyer. Then he said fuk this shite (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ and became a philosopher. Got spat on in the streets. Really, really smart, but hugely unappreciated.

·Trelawney: Democritus. Considered a nutcase by everyone. Was actually right all along.

·Cornelius Fudge: Descartes. Believed he was incredibly smart, and somehow got the rest of the world to believe it too. Thought he had the answer to everything, but each thing he said created a new problem. Left all the shit for his successors to clean up. In his defense, he tried really hard.

·Lockhart: Freud. A fraud.

#harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #luna lovegood #neville longbottom #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #yeah that's enough tags now #me.txt

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clmcl · 8 years ago

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HEy! could u rec me some good dramione blogs? (and fics please im starving)

Yes! I don’t know a lot of dramione blogs, but I really like these:

Columbrina: It’s not specific for dramione, but she posts a lot of aesthetis and moodbords. Ah! And the most important: she’s a wonderful writter and somentimes you can find stuff like that.

Hermione Fanfics: I’ve just discovered this blog. You can find some good fanfics pairing Hermione and Draco.

Incorrect Dramione Quotes: A lot of funny and romantic quotes (you can stalk and be happy)

Harry potter shit: good dramione AU here.

The Tale of the Ferret and the Otter: quotes from dramione fanfics (the last update was 2 years ago, but you can stalk)

I Dream of Dramione: a lovely blog with lovely stuff.

I will put some fanfics here, but if you think it’s not enough, you can ask me again or go here or here.

How To Marry A Malfoy: It’s funny, smut and romantic. “One egregious mistake and she never wanted to hear his name ever again, but the Fates force them together eight months later. How will she cope without surrendering to or strangling him? Will she be able to?” COMPLETE (Chapters: 17 - Words: 132,634)

Inverse: “Dumbledore asks Hermione to carry out a secret mission before the start of her fourth year. “Keep the Time Turner, Miss Granger. I want you to use it to help Mr. Malfoy reevaluate his beliefs. He is now depending on you.” This one is soooo good! It’s not complete, but the last update was inDec 29, 2016 . (Chapters: 29 - Words: 168,733)

In Reverse: “Your hair,” he says, without looking at her. “It’s enormous, you know.” A few, silent seconds pass, before Hermione makes a happy sort of sob. “Your chin is too sharp,” she whispers. “We grew into them.” “We certainly did.” Suddenly, her perfect mouth is on his, and he realizes that maybe he hasn’t ruined anything after all. (Words: 9,566)

The Letters From Everyone: “A collection of short letters and notes sent to and from various characters throughout a year of their lives.” fluffy and funny

Knowing You: Post-Hogwarts/War, forced marriage law. This one is really good. COMPLETE ( Chapters: 30 - Words: 256,588)

Educating Draco: funny and smut. COMPLETE (Chapters: 2 - Words: 15,288)

Graveyard Valentine: sad and beautiful. COMPLETE (Words: 9,193)

Turncoat: Switching sides. “I have only one condition, and I trust it won’t be hard for you to meet. I want Granger.” It’s one of my favorites. COMPLETE (Chapters: 101 - Words: 256,732)

Commentating: smut and funny. COMPLETE (Words: 1,723)

Physically Impossible: funny and smut. COMPLETE (Words: 5,299)

What the Room Requieres: “Hermione is the one who finds Draco weeping in the bathroom. He flees. She chases him into the Room of Requirement, and the room forces them to face their greatest fears together in order to find the door.” beautiful, a little bit sad and sweet. COMPLETE (Chapters: 26 - Words: 111,821)

Lock The Door: funny and smut. COMPLETE (Words: 4,934)

The Nietzsche Classes: “The Ministry takes action against the remaining prejudice in the wizarding society and asks Hermione for help. “What do you want? Money? Power? Name your price, Granger. I’m not about to let pride get in my way when an Azkaban sentence is on the line.” COMPLETE (Chapters: 15 - Words: 45,807)

Twelfth Use Of Dragon’s Blood: “Draco and Hermione do not have a conversation in the library. No, really.” This one is very cute! COMPLETE (Words: 686)

Olivie Blake (ff.net/tumblr) (I didn’t read all of her fanfics, so take a look in her profile. I’m sure it’s amazing)

Ride or Die: “The Death Eaters are an outlaw motorcycle club run by Tom Riddle, a notoriously ruthless leader who gradually works the brotherhood into high stakes criminal activity after the death of their previous president. Draco Malfoy is heir to the throne, but his life abruptly changes when fate lands him in the hands of a young doctor who is about to get in way over her head.” An amazing AU fanfic. It’s not complete, but she posts regularly.

Nightmares and Nocturnes: “A story per night to save her life. Dramione, dystopian post-war AU” This one is sooo good! I love it. It’s not complete, but she posts regularly.

Columbrina (ff.net/tumblr) (same for her. Amazing)

Like Brothers: “Minerva McGonagall steps in on the awful night the Potter are killed and arranges to have Harry Potter raised by Sirius Black and his somewhat cousins, the Malfoys. Draco and Harry grow up as almost brothers and everything - everything - is different. Gryffindor!Draco. Dramione. AU.” Hiatus (sad but true) (Chapters: 41 - Words: 97,690)

If I’m Gonna Fall in Love: “Draco had made a list of everything he needed to fall in love. She had to be beautiful, and deferential, and from a good family. She had to be someone his parents would like, someone his friends would approve of. But how was he supposed to meet the perfect girl if he kept getting caught up in arguments with Potter’s bushy-haired sidekick?” A lovely one-shot (Words: 6,785 )

No One Minds: fluffy and funny AU (Chapters: 5 - Words: 21,678 COMPLETE)

Madness in Love: With the Order of the Phoenix recast in popular opinion as dangerous, a law is put into effect to have them work off their debt to society via what is termed ‘good, honest labor’ and it leaves Hermione Granger sitting in Draco Malfoy’s parlor as a smirking Ministry official condemns her to be her former enemy’s slave. COMPLETE. (Chapters: 5 - Words: 14,201)

The History Project: Draco Malfoy finds a way to magically write notes in History of Magic but the only person the spell will work with is Hermione Granger, or so he claims. (Chapters: 19 - Words: 15,937)

Fairy Stone: Draco is sentenced to one year in Azkaban, release contingent upon someone willing to vouch for his good behavior. Hermione does. “Oh, I want you,” he said. “You, just you, always you. You forever and you for always and you until the bloody sun explodes.” COMPLETE. (Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,827)

The Green Girl: Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? COMPLETE (Chapters: 22 - Words: 150,508)

Veela fanfictions:

Veela And The Perils Of Losing Control: smut and funny. “When Snape stops administering the control potion for Draco’s veela instincts thanks to a little meddling from Blaise, Ron and Harry, all hell breaks loose and trouble abounds. Especially for poor unsuspecting Hermione.” COMPLETE (Words: 5,468)

Silver Eyes: “I’m so sorry.” The familiar voice spoke again. This was enough to wake Hermione’s brain from her trance. Enough to open her eyes, and see two magnificently silver eyes dissaparate in the dark”. COMPLETE (Chapters: 29 - Words: 84,108)

Internal Yearning: “As if becoming a Veela wasn’t bad enough, he had to go and find out his mate was one Hermione Granger. Merlin, he was in for a rough year at Hogwarts.” (Chapters: 28 - Words: 73,691)

Well.. I hope this can help you. Have a nice year! XOXO Feel free to ask me again :)

#answered #dramione

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theroseonhelenascoffindoor · 5 years ago

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On Tattoos

™ Okay, so I usually always come here only when there’s some deep revelation of mine that I need to discuss with myself by writing as a means to sort out my thoughts. I don’t think anyone is reading this, but on the offchance that someone is -bear with me. Also, here is a 23-year-old’s experience with tattoos and what I’ve learned in the process, if you’re interested in reading what I have to say before you get one yourself.

I’m getting tatted after a year and a half tomorrow. I’ll be bluntly honest: I don’t know that I have completely thought this one through, but I want to get it. This could be me just second-guessing every single little thing in my life like I always have and always do, but it could also be my gut telling me to come to a halt.

Those who know me, know that I don’t just do anything on a whim; I plan things carefully, considering every possible outcome, but when I get so excited with a concept I usually develop this tunnel vision and get carried away. I think 2/3 out of my 4 tattoos were the result of a rushed decision, and I’ve come to regret all four of them at one point or another, and then fall in love with them again, and then get worried and anxious all over again.

Don’t get me wrong: even though a solid 75% of my tattoos are the result of a whim, they are about extremely meaningful things in my life. The decision to have them inked may be rushed, but it’s not like I got ‘yolo’ tattooed on my skin; these things are very near and dear to my heart.

Just so you, ghost readers, can get an idea of what I’m talking about, I’ll briefly describe them:

1. A pair of musical clefts, the F cleft on my left hand and the G cleft on my right. I play the piano, have been for ten years now (started when I was 13, holy fucking shit) and it’s a central part of my life. I’m by no means the next Argerich, and struggle with my Bach, but I love playing the piano. It takes my mind off things, and to be able to create music is, honestly, as cheesy as it sounds, one of the few things I truly find some genuine happiness in.

Sometimes I look at them and cringe a little because I got them on my hands, right under my thumbs, very clearly out there for the world to see, impossible to conceal without heavy makeup. I was a very bold 17 year old, wasn’t I.

Still, I love them, and though they are anxiety-inducing from time to time because of their obnoxious placement, I couldn’t imagine having got those tattoos anywhere else on my body. I love my hands because they are my instruments for creation. It wouldn’t make any sense, for me, in my life, to get them on the neck, or the arm, or anywhere else.

2. A Deathly Hallows tattoo on my right shoulder. I’ve always known I wanted a Harry Potter tattoo, because, again, very central part of my life both as a child and an adult, played a very important role in the development of the person I am today. I may not always like that person, but it is me.

Without Harry Potter I wouldn’t have learned to speak English, I wouldn’t have become interested in all things anglospoken and I may never have got a real dimension of what a big, broad, beautiful world is out there, beyond the limits of my birthplace. I would never have found a profession tailormade for me -that of translation. Perhaps I may not have even entered the world of reading, and all books have to offer.

Then again...I probably would’ve liked to get something more meaningful and less run-of-the-mill when it comes to your standard Harry Potter tattoos. I wanted something that branded me as a Proud Harry Potter Fan ™, and in truth, I quite like the aesthetic of the symbol, but, given the chance to get something else that was also Harry Potter-related, I’d get something a lot more personal.

3. “Life without music would be a mistake” on the side of my forearm, in cursive. In Latin. Enough said.

4. A TARDIS tattoo on my forearm. The story behind this tattoo is too long for a post that is already a good two thousand words in length, but suffice it to say that it involves a dead friend and a shared love for Doctor Who.

I’ve come to regret it because it’s quite large and is always bound to draw a lot of attention. I love the design (black and white, very thin lines, enclosed in a rhombus frame), don’t quite like so much all the looks it attracts.

I still remember the first day my boss saw it, and though she didn’t say anything, I caught several quick glances down my forearm when I wasn’t looking and it made me realise that it is a big, beautiful thing, but a very strange tattoo to behold. The fact that they can only be concealed by using long sleeves doesn’t help matters much.

I can’t picture myself without it, though. Recently, while on yet another one of my usual ‘oh-my-god-what-have-I-done-to-my-body’ spirals, I had a dream in which I was getting it removed, and the procedure wasn’t painful at all, but I woke up to find myself crying over the loss of something that at this point feels so utterly mine, I cannot conceive of my body without it.

So, what have I learned from these experiences?

1. Try not to get tattooed until your twenties. I feel like you don’t really know yourself until you’ve reached a certain age, and when you’re a teen, you have no idea who you’re going to be in five years, even though it can feel like you have already figured your shit out.

Kid, I wanted to get a Nirvana tattoo. No, not a meaningful lyric. No, no particular gorgeous artwork. I wanted to get the Nirvana font tattooed, just because I Kurt Cobain spoke to me on a deeper level. And he still does -but I don’t feel like having a band name on my arm. Same goes for the Mockingjay I wanted to get tattooed on my other shoulder to match the Deathly Hallows, because I liked the Hunger Games. Sure, I think it’s a good series, but it’s nowhere near as relevant to me now as it was when I was a little less literate. (Not implying it’s a bad piece of work -it’s actually a really good introduction to dystopia for teens, and that has a lot of merit- but there are books I’ve read and come to love which have made a more lasting impression on me than Suzanne Collins’s books did.)

This is a personal appreciation, and one you’re free to disagree, because of course there are 15-year-olds out there who are really smart and self-aware. I just wasn’t one of them. And this isn’t to say I was some wild-partying girl with a death wish who did all the drugs -I was as unremarkable and average as they come. I was the counter-culture girl of the town, straight dark hair and heavy eyeliner included, and now I’m pretty much your standard plaid-wearing adult with a softer edge. My thesis in all of this is, you might not have an idea of who you are until you get out of highschool and into the brave new world beyond the walls of your teenage years.

People change; interests change, and who I was five years ago is a person completely different to the person I am today. Sure, she’s an integral part of me, but the tattoos she would’ve liked to get wouldn’t have been relevant to the person I am today.

I am lucky, because I did get three of my four tattoos before the age of 20, and thankfully, they still speak to me. I still love music. I still love Harry Potter. But I could’ve done a lot worse.

2. Don’t get tattoos in languages you’re not proficient in. I had my Nietzsche quote translated into Latin by someone who had studied the language -but evidently, they hadn’t studied enough to make one apparent grammar mistake I’ll have to wear on my skin until I die -or until I become a millionaire and can afford getting laser removal like I can afford an apple; whichever happens first.

We all like to make fun of that basic, dumb dude who got ‘laundry’ tattooed in Mandarin, until we go and make the same mistake ourselves.

3. Don’t be afraid of how your tattoos are going to look when your skin gets wrinkly. It’s time we all as a society embraced aging. I know my tattoos will look worse for wear when I’m sixty, but they’ll still tell my story. I’m not the least bit worried about what my cleft tattoos will look like in my time-worn hands. They’ll still play the piano.

4. People are going to ask about your tattoos. If you can’t explain them without feeling uncomfortable, then probably don’t get them, or get them some place where they can’t see. My TARDIS tattoo is meaningful beyond words to me, but that meaning isn’t so easily conveyed to my acquaintances. It’s not like you can casually mention how it represents embracing change and having the will to live to fight another day and to do the right thing by someone else and what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and the powerful force of science fiction to affect history and yadda yadda yadda in an office small talk conversation...right?

5. You’re bound to regret at least one of your tattoos, even if for a split second, even if you love them as profoundly as you do your mum, or your pet, or your best friend. This does not mean you’ve made a mistake. I doubt there’s a person out there who hasn’t second-guessed a tattoo they’ve already got.

In my case, I get anxious then and again about my tattoos in regards to their visibility, and what people may think of them. If this is something that concerns you, you might want to consider getting inked on your legs, thighs, back or ribs.

But no matter what, remember: these tattoos mean something to you. You got them for a reason. They are telling your story. Sure, there are some people out there who may be quick to judge without basis -but these days, they are very few and far between. And in any case, these are not the people you want to surround yourself with.

The people you do want to surround yourself with are people like my friend from dance class, who was really interested in getting to know the meaning behind my TARDIS tattoo. I spent a whole hour during our train ride to a presentation in the city explaining Doctor Who lore to her, and I had her full attention (those who watch Doctor Who know that we can easily bore people or freak them out trying to explain the regeneration cycle). What I mean by this is that your tattoos are an invitation for people to know you on a deeper level, and those who bother asking may find that you are a remarkably interesting individual. Those who don’t, don’t. Those who look down on you without even trying to understand...to hell with them.

Having said all of this...I think I’m going to go ahead with my My Chemical Romance tattoo.

I do feel some of that second-guessing guilt in anticipation. I’ll be the first to admit I might not be thinking this all the way through -after all, I got the idea just a few days ago. It might just be the intoxicating thrill of getting inked with a friend (we’re getting different MCR-related tattoos, it’s not like they are matching).

But MCR have been with me for a very long time, and have taught me the beauty in all living things. They taught me to channel my pain through any form of art. They are the very reason I’m even writing this -I can think more clearly about permanent life decisions when I write about them. I’ve always known I want to get something that represents them as a band, and this is as good a time as it’ll ever be, with their reunion and whatnot.

I don’t think I’ll regret it, or perhaps I will, as I have all of my tattoos from time to time. It’s small, and black, and not so visible to the naked eye, but I’ll know it’s there. It’s the first three notes of Welcome to the Black Parade, on a staff, with the G cleft and F sharp. It has a double meaning -my love for My Chemical Romance and everything this particular song stands for, my love for piano, and my love for playing their music on my piano.

It may be a rushed decision, but damn it, I’m feeling good about this.

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lucier1032-blog · 7 years ago

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Baby, I’m Howling For You - Chapter Eight

"It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge." - Friedrich Nietzsche

“Well look who we have here….”

A sarcastic tone woke Ryder from her mere minutes of sleep. The woman’s body was slowly deteriorating; moving even the slightest bit exerted too much energy and only made her muscles ache more. Her food portions were getting smaller and smaller with every passing day and she knew it was only a matter of time before days were skipped entirely. She tried to hold strong to the idea of her brother finding her, of being safely held in her boyfriend’s arms, but every passing minute took a bit of her hope out the door with it.

Ryder could already feel the first signs of Harry’s plan coming true. She practically watched her frame shrink with her very own eyes; her hip bones becoming more pronounced, her ribs screaming at the slightest twist of her back, wrists too fragile to fight. She could only imagine her physical appearance. Days on end without a proper shower, having to debate between sacrificing her limited water rations for personal hygiene; something she never would have imagined debating between. But of course, she never would have imagined Harry coming back into her life in such a dangerous and malicious way.

The brunette had lost track of time completely; every waking moment blending together like the hues in a water color picture left out in the rain. There was no way for her to track the days, her sunken green eyes no longer knowing the once familiar brightness of sunshine. She longed for fresh air; to walk out her front door into the cool London fog, breathing in the scent of fresh rain on the bushes. The girl craved the slightest touches of human contact, yet scrambled away in fear at the ones currently given.

Ryder was drowning in her own thoughts with no chance for air.

She clung to the happy memories as if she would never experience happiness again. What she would give to drink wine, read Romeo and Juliet for the eighth time and to see her best friends’ smile.

”Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”

Ryder could still see the shake of the head and hear the laughs on the other side of the door as she would quote Shakespeare to Bex before hurrying home to her Irishman after another wine Wednesday. Ryder took for granted how common it was to have a conversation with Bexley, to have a best friend who would put up with her neediness and complaining when Niall would forget to take out the trash.

”It’s really not that complicated is it? All he must do is take the bag out of the bin and walk it to the curb when he leaves! Am I asking too much? It’s not like I’m telling him to cut off his dick or something!”

It was hard to imagine that she might not have another conversation with Bexley, or at least the same type of conversation. If Harry succeeded with this, no matter how hard she fought, Ryder knew there was a possibility of everything she once knew no longer existing. Sure, she would be able to see Bexley again, to watch her push her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she’s done her entire life, but it would never be the same. Bexley would always see her in a different light now; no longer the sweet, caring, and easygoing girl she was when they first met. Now Ryder would barely speak, flinching at the slightest touch of someone she once tackled to the floor in birthday celebrations. Every goodnight text or inside joke now polluted with pity. Their friendship would forever be tainted due to one decision her father made years ago.

She couldn’t bring herself to think about the aftermath that would ensue with her and Niall. It only brought tears she didn’t think she had left. There was no doubt in her mind that he loved her but could he continue to love her after such a tragedy? Did he have the strength to spend the rest of his days fighting for her to come back to him? Was it selfish of Ryder to force him to stay? He deserved all the happiness and love in the world and it killed her to think she wouldn’t be able to provide him with that.

She replayed their time together in her head like a filmstrip before the picture burned due to being over played. Each hour she would cling to a different situation, a different film strip of their time together, hanging on every word and filling in the gaps with overanalyzed thoughts. She would start with the last time she saw him and work backwards to the first time they met.

"No, cuddle." He mumbled, sleep threatening to overcome him at any moment.

"I have to go meet Bex, I'm already running late because of this little rendezvous." Ryder tried to squirm her way out of Niall's strong grip, pushing her palms flat against his chest for leverage. "Told her I would be there an hour ago." Niall let out a groan, his arm going slack and allowing his girl to slip out of his grasp.

"I'll always come second to her wont I?" Niall griped, eyes glued to his baby's figure as she wandered the bedroom gathering clothes.

How she wished she would have stayed instead of being in such a rush to leave. Maybe if she had stayed to answer Niall’s pleas of cuddles she wouldn’t be chained to this bed. Maybe the Howlers would have grown impatient and let her walk uninterrupted to Bexley’s later in the night. Every situation came with an equally devastating set of maybes.

She rewound the tape a few months.

” Do you have to spill ice cream on yourself every single time?” Ryder giggled at the soupy chocolate ice cream dripping down Niall’s chin and onto his white tee, no doubt leaving a stain if she didn’t get it in the wash soon. Her boyfriend just shrugged, the upturned spoon hanging from his lopsided smile, before passing her the carton. “You are the messiest eater I’ve ever met.” She happily accepted the carton of Neapolitan ice cream, the only kind they agreed to share. Niall would eat the chocolate while she ate the strawberry; both avoiding the vanilla because it was too boring for their liking.

The rested comfortably on the couch together; Ryder leaning into Niall’s side, their feet entangled on the coffee table while they flipped through channels, never agreeing on the same thing. The holidays were fast approaching and they had spent the day out shopping for gifts. Niall whined and complained the whole time, but still found the smallest ways to make his girl laugh; modeling woman’s hats or the latest nail polish colors, carrying her many bags but not without joking about being her personal pack mule, sneaking off while she was in the dressing room only to bring back kebabs from the Harrods food hall for them to share. Niall learned early on that the smallest things left the biggest impact on Ryder.

Rewind two years.

Ryder’s feet were on fire as she neared the end of her waitressing shift at the pub across from her new apartment. She only had a half an hour left when a group of rowdy, loud men tumbled through the front door. They had clearly already been drinking, obvious this was just another stop on their pub crawl. The exhausted brunette stood at the edge of the bar as she watched the five men of various heights claim a table towards the back…a table in her section. She groaned inwardly before walking over to them.

“What can I get you lads?” She put on her friendliest smile, leaning her palms against the edge of the table and letting her dark locks swing over her shoulder. She could take the order of 3/5 of the table before her gaze landed on a flushed blonde. His pink cheeks made his blue eyes more pronounced as he held her stare.

“Gimme a pint of Guinness?” His Irish accent heavier than normal due to just having flown back from his home country for a quick visit with the family.

“Sure thing.” She smiled sweetly, pushing off the table and making her way back towards the bar, completely unaware of Niall watching her every move. It only took enough time for Ryder to get 3/5 of the drinks ready before Niall was on his feet and walking towards her, a confident yet somewhat cocky grin on his face.

Repeatedly Ryder replayed the past two years of her life, refusing to go back any further because then she would be reliving the days that ultimately lead her here. She skipped over every argument with her father, every “just grow up” speech from Liam, every blind eye her mother turned. She survived her childhood because of the man that was now breaking her in two.

Ryder’s shattered eyes fluttered open, struggling against her smeared mascara and tears. It didn’t take long for her to realize her surroundings had not changed; she still laid on her side on the filthy mattress, refusing to move and risk cutting up her already raw ankle any more or reopening the cuts on her hip. The door remained shut and the room dark, leading Ryder to think she imagined the familiar yet new voice that pulled her from her sleep. The woman blinked a few times, remaining motionless, before she saw movement in the shadow of the room. The two dim lightbulbs providing very little for her to recognize the figure who now joined her.

“I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you.” The mysterious voice spoke again, dripping with disdain, and encircling the woman’s weakened body. Ryder had to squint to focus on the shadow of someone leaning against the far wall but it was hopeless in identifying them until they chose to move forward. “It’s been far too long Ryder.” The emphasis they put on her name made her internally flinch. She remained still, curled into herself and fighting off the urge to care.

“What do you want?” Ryder’s voice was raw and scratchy, a hand print still visible around her neck.

“Just thought I would come have a little chat, thought you could use a friendly face.” The light tone was finally given an identity as the sound of heels clicked across the floor.

“Really Quinn?” Ryder wanted to be surprise but didn’t have the energy anymore, which left the tiny blonde disappointed.

“Aww, I thought you would be happier to see me!” Quinn moved closer to the bed, close enough for Ryder to see her caked on makeup and perfectly straight, platinum locks. She wore a permanent pout that was all too recognizable.

“When is anyone ever happy to see you?” Ryder had long since stopped playing nice with Quinn and had no vigor left to filter her thoughts.

“Wow. Someone’s in a mood.” The girl popped her hip, playing with a strand of her hair. The picture would only be complete if she were loudly smacking her strawberry bubble gum.

“I should have known you would show up eventually. You’re like a lost little puppy, always were.”

“I’d be careful with what you say babe. Last time I checked you were the one chained to a bed and not me.”

“What exactly do you want Quinn?” Ryder readjusted herself, sitting up just a little bit more.

“Just came to see you were being treated accordingly. It sounded too good to be true, I had to see for myself!” Quinn was gaining too much enjoyment from the other girl’s pain, only confirming how sadistic Ryder always knew she was. “I cannot say I’m disappointed.” She laughed, “Harry’s doing far better than I imagined!” Ryder let out an exasperated sigh at the mention of Harry.

“Yeah, it’s going really well between us. Really patching things up.”

The pleasure rapidly drained from Quinn’s face, her pale green eyes filling with hatred. “Don’t play all innocent with me! You should have just killed Harry while you were at it!” She snarled, “You see how he is now…that is all your fault.”

“Way to kick me while I’m down Quinn.”

“You haven’t had to deal with him the past three years!” Quinn’s voice roared through the room, all her held in anger now seeping from her bones. “You haven’t had to watch him drink himself into oblivion! Every day he slipped further and further away from me.”

“So, were you the mastermind behind this genius plan? You want me to have to suffer just like him?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” She snaked her head to the side, cherry lips annunciating every syllable. “If I was in charge you would already be dead.” Ryder froze, not realizing she was getting the star treatment because Harry was in charge and not Quinn. Maybe she did have a little luck working in her favor still. “I’m going to let Harry get his revenge, keep you chained in her like the dog you are, but don’t for a second think I won’t get mine. You won’t walk out of here alive”

“Oi!” The door swung open to an out of breath Zayn, “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Quinn quickly snapped back to her dumb blonde façade; straightening her back and playing with her hair. “Just catching up with an old friend.”

“Well sorry to cut the conversation short.” Zayn jumped forward, grabbing Quinn by the bicep and pulling her out of the room. The blonde had just enough time to glare back at Ryder before the door slammed shut.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Zayn pushed Quinn forward down the hallway, finally letting go of her arm. “Louis is going to kill me!”

“Don’t get yourself all worked up.” Quinn rubbed her arm where Zayn held her. “I only wanted to talk to her.”

“Yeah and I’m the fucking Queen of England. I was told to keep you away from her for a reason.” He ran a hand threw his hair as he followed the girl out of the hallway and towards the bar in the basement living room. “What did you tell her?”

“Oh, just the usual; good to see you, glad you’re enjoying your accommodations, you’re to blame for everything, can’t wait till you’re dead; the normal for us.” Quinn took a seat at an empty stool next to Novo, a lurking Bug organizing the glasses behind the bar. Bug quickly grabbed a glass and filled it with a golden-brown liquid before passing it to the expecting Zayn.

“Jesus Quinn. Just wait till I tell your brother about this little chit chat.”

“No!” The usually in control blonde spun on her chair, palm slamming against the wooden bar top. Her entire small frame stiffened at Zayn’s threats, her eyes ridiculed with panic. “You can’t tell Harry about this! Please! He’ll ship me back off to boarding school and I CANNOT go back there!” Quinn’s sudden outburst took all three boys by surprise, none of them realizing how scared of her brother she really was.

“Alright, alright! Chill out!” Zayn put both hands up in defense, which was easier said than done with a glass of bourbon glued to his fingertips. “I won’t tell him! But you got to promise me you will never go back in that room or I will put you back on a train to Switzerland myself….and it won’t be first class!”

“Deal!” Quinn jumped at the chance to hide her secret agenda once again.

“What were you not going to tell me?” All eyes shifted towards the staircase as Harry came into view, taking each step as slow as the last even with his endless legs. His dirty curls were swept away from his face, leaving his worn eyes and scowl on display.

“Nothing mate.” Zayn quickly recovered, “Just having a drink with the boys. You want one?” He gave a nod to Bug who didn’t hesitate before making Harry’s usual.

“Since when do you hang around here?” Harry stopped at the edge of the bar, speaking to the lesser member of the Styles family.

“I-I…” Quinn racked her brain for a quick excuse.

“Came round looking for Waverly.” Once again, Zayn could cover. “You two are going out to End Zone tonight, right?”

“Yeah-Yes. Waves is running late so Zayn invited me down here for a pre-game drink.”

“Then why don’t you have a drink?” Harry eyed her empty hands curiously.

“Bug was just about to make her one, were testing out his bar tending skills.” Novo jumped into the conversation this time, “Haven’t been able to think of a drink he can’t make!” Harry’s eyes traveled between the four of them, deciding whether to believe their lies. The room was tensely silent for a few moments; the only noise being the tiny makeshift bartender dropping ice into a tumbler.

“Well then?” Harry narrowed his eyes at his younger sister.

“What?” Quinn moved her head to the side in confusion while the other three men looked on as if they’d been caught stealing the crowned jewels.

“What are you going to drink?”

#1dff #One Direction #Harry Styles #Niall Horan #Liam Payne #Louis Tomlinson #Zayn Malik #Fanfiction

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