#i do not have the religious trauma for me to find corruption this hot

[lottiecrabie]

pray for my soul. part one – matty healy

you are a good girl: devout christian, studious student, dutiful daughter. resident atheist matty healy might be tempting you, but who can blame you when he looks like sin itself?

warnings: eventual 18+, kiss, religious imagery, blasphemy, (the author has never been to church and had to google some really weird shit to half-figure out how services go lol)

part one of five

2351 words

Sundays you spend on your knees. Hands tucked together, dainty cross falling gracefully between your collarbones, you recite the prayers diligently. The priest’s monotonous voice resonates against the vault, sloping across the arches. Beside you, your father mouths the words. 

You hear some sort of muffled laugh. Peeved, you open your eyes, turning just slightly to catch a peek of him. Matty Healy, black hair falling over his forehead, face drenched in the blue and red and green of the stained glass. He sits on the pew when everyone kneels, biting back a laugh. He looks utterly sinful; dark and half in shadow, spitting in the face of God. 

You narrow your eyes, pursing your lips. You don’t know why he even bothers to show up if it’s just to cause a ruckus. 

As if he could hear your thoughts louder than the organ ringing through the room, Matty’s eyes snap to you. You stifle a jump; your stomach dipping in sheer surprise. His eyes are dark like him, piercing. He sees through you, underneath your flesh and blood, seeping through your bones. You don’t know what he sees. It unsettles you, how deeply he watches, how baring it feels on your covered skin. 

Your crossed hands clench, digging your poor heart ring in your skin. Muted pain spreads down your palm, but you barely feel it. You stare back at him, unwilling to let him win. 

The priest praises the Lord. Matty smirks. You shift your knees on the cushion. 

“Pay attention,” your mother hisses, reaching two fingers to your side and pinching in warning. You startle, turning back towards the pulpit dutifully. 

Somewhere behind you, another quiet laugh, much more taunting, much more pleased. It slitters under the pews, climbing up your straight spine. You tighten your hands into fist you wish you could use. There’s some unspoken anger living inside of you, something unfit for a good girl, a dutiful daughter, a pious person. You let it breathe with you because you cannot smother it; you’ve tried. 

Still, you exhale loudly, unclenching your hands, shaking your shoulders to relax them. You plaster a smile over your face. You recite the right words, echoing the pastor. 

When he calls for the eucharist, you stand up, following in line between your two parents. You feel a pair of eyes on your back, itching under your modest cardigan, tickling the ends of your hair. You try to ignore it, but you can’t stop yourself from throwing a look Matty’s way. He catches you, of course, smiling like he got you. You hurry to look away. 

In front of the preacher, you open your mouth. Gently, he places the sacramental bread on your tongue. You don’t let it dissolve; you bite, swallowing the body of Christ. Again, you open your mouth, taking a holy sip of wine. 

Turning around, you lick your red lips clean. You give yourself another self-indulgent glance towards Matty. He’s distracted by your mouth, it seems, but it snaps back to you. He smiles shamelessly. He’s stayed perfectly seated throughout the eucharist, of course. You scowl to yourself, although you can’t quite pinpoint why it bothers you so. 

“Don’t make that face,” your mother warns beside you. You smoothen your features, schooling a complacent smile again. You sit back on your pew while your mother mutters to your dad exasperatedly, “Such a pretty face. I don’t know why she frowns like this.” Still, you smile, staring straight ahead. 

It was a lovely sermon. Sundays leave you clean. 

—

Everyone gathers after the service in the Fellowship Hall. Although most people do it to gossip, there is a table of snacks against the wall. There’s watery coffee, but your parents don’t like when you drink it. You take a paper cup, pouring yourself some orange juice instead. You turn around to make sure your mother is busy chatting Mrs. Finley over some recent neighborhood drama and grab yourself a cookie. 

You scarf it down in two bites before anyone sees. 

“That looked like the single most delicious biscuit ever made.” 

Of course, one person had to have seen, and it had to be him. You look up, stopping yourself from cursing the higher above for his sick game. You flip to Matty with a crisp grin, something utterly stuck in your cheeks. “It was.” You don’t manage to make it sound cheery. Condescension drips on your tongue. 

Matty laughs through the bite. “Do you have something to tell me?” 

You clench your jaw. Refusing to give him an inch of ground, you grind through your teeth, “No.” 

“No?” He says, and he makes it even more condescending, practically pouting at you. “You sound a little upset.” 

“I’m not upset.” 

“Mmh. That’s not how you’re coming across.” 

You huff, impatient, crossing your arms. “I’ve said five words.” 

“Six.” Matty smiles cheekily. “More, now.” 

Enough, you can’t stop yourself from snapping. “You know what?” Rage twists in your belly, something uncontrollable, unreasonable, unexplainable. “I don’t know why you bother to come if you’re just going to be a—” 

“A what?” Matty asks, and he looks thrilled, something childishly gleeful in his taunting smile. 

“Nothing. Just— Nevermind.” Clutching your arms, you twist around, trampling away from him. 

He’s quick to follow, hot on your trail as you trudge out of the Fellowship Hall. “It seemed like you were about to curse.” 

“I wasn’t.” You hiss. He’s beside you now, shoulders knocking against yours. You scowl, walking faster. 

“No, I’m pretty sure you were. What was it gonna be? Dickhead? Asshole? Little shit?” 

“Can you shut up?” 

“Can I? Yes. Will I? Now, I think you can figure out the answer to that, smart girl.” 

“Gosh,” you roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.” 

He prances beside you, careless, carefree. His hands dig into his jeans pockets. “It’s for my mom, if you must know.” You throw him a look, arching an eyebrow. “Why I come here. Personally, I couldn’t care less about church, seeing as I’m an atheist.” 

The word grinds your ears. You knew, in a broad, immaterial way, that he didn’t believe in God. But to hear it spoken so plainly, so brazenly is another thing. You’ve tried to be open, but there is something so off-putting, so wrong about the sheer idea of a faithless life. Where does he go? How does he trust the path he’s on? 

You stop in your tracks, staring at him. “Does it not scare you?” 

He snorts, as though that was a silly question, as though he wasn’t slapping away God’s merciful hand. “No.” 

“But you’re— you’re alone.” 

“Everyone is. You’ve just deluded yourself into thinking you weren’t.” 

You clutch your cross, furrowing your eyebrows. “That’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it worse, inventing some grander thing just to sleep at night? Speaking to the sky like there’s anyone listening?” 

“You’re being mean.” 

He clicks his tongue. “Maybe. It’s still the truth.” 

This whirlpool of anger, uncouth for a nice girl, a devout Christian. You clench your fists. “It’s not. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re speaking like you— like you understand any of this. But you’re never listening. Not to the sermons, or the prayers, or the voice of God.” 

“The voice of God?” He says, and it sounds derogatory coming from his mouth; small, ridiculous. You huff air from your nostrils. 

“Yes, Matty. He’s— He’s there, he’s with you, and you’re not listening.” 

“Well, tell him to give up. He’s wasting his time.” 

“Oh, my Gosh.” You roll your eyes, continuing to walk. Again, he follows you. “You’re not getting it. You’re miserable and you don’t even know why.” 

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m miserable?”

You stop, twisting to him. “Yes!” 

“That’s presumptuous.” 

“So is saying I’m deluding myself!” Your heart races. Your stomach knits together. “You— You just shit on everything I believe in because, why, you think you’re better than me? Smarter than me? Is that it? Because I’m not a cynic? Because I’m trying? Who are you to judge? You are not God, you’re not even his opposition. You’re just some guy laughing in church, being a fucking dickhead.” You yell, throwing your arms up, “And, yes, I can fucking swear!” 

You pant. Matty’s eyes darken, dipping to your lips. Whirlwind coiling in your belly, spreading its rapacious fingers through your limbs. You breathe harder, quicker. A curl streaks across his forehead, tickling his brow. His jaw clenches. He’s beautiful. You curse to yourself, tightening your fists into weapons you’ll never use. Your eyes flick to his mouth. 

Jeremiah, prophet of doom, circles you like prey. You fall into it face first, crashing your lips against sin itself. 

It’s a harsh kiss; it’s your first kiss. Two hands grasp his jaw, like you could shatter it, like you could own it. Matty does not even seem scared of the boundless possibilities existing between your fingers. He grins, cocky, satisfied. 

���Don’t say anything,” you warn, frustrated, because he would, because he was about to. 

To make sure of it, you open your mouth, coaxing your tongue in his. He welcomes it easily, a groan falling into your wanton lips. You lick it up greedily, then sneak a hand in the mess of his curls, tugging to trick new ones from him. He offers them willingly; you take and take. 

Euphoria hikes up your head. You’ve never been drunk, but this must be it. You let go of his hair, finding the warmth of his waist, the firmness. He’s so real against you, something tangible, something breakable. You sigh as he licks your lip. Your eyelids flutter, as does something lower. 

Matty’s hands find your back, digging in your red cardigan. He clutches, stretching the material, then lets go. Fingers climb up to the back of your neck, playing with the chain of your cross necklace. You push the realization away, his proximity to the clasp.

He could undo it if he pleased. He could undo you. 

He adventures his other fingers down, grabbing a handful of your ass, and it feels like he does. Need throbs in unspeakable places. You clench your thighs. You shouldn't let him undo you. You shouldn’t even give him the opportunity, dancing with fire, with the devil itself. You moan into his open mouth. 

Matty breaks away from you, breathing heavily. He stares in one eye, then the other, falling to your swollen lips, to your heaving chest, cross rising with it. His look darkens. “I understand why fools believe in angels.” 

You pant, “Shut up.” You drag him back to you, diving into your downfall. 

When you bite his lip, tugging it to hear the resounding groan slip from his swollen mouth, you bite into something sacred, something hidden. You shouldn’t have. Still, you lick his tongue, gripping the cotton of his shirt, the warm skin of his waist. He tastes like apples and cigarettes. 

His stomach is tense, rippling underneath your silk hands as you climb them higher and higher. You discover his skin, smoother than you’d have thought, stumbling on a few scars and drawing them over and over like your new prayer. He breathes quicker, harsher. Maybe he’s discovering new religions, too. 

Eve was just a girl. You don’t eat; you devour. 

There’s an endless pit inside of you. You store the aggregation of your stifled, festering sins: all the rage, all the envy, all the pride, all the lust. It grows, swallowing you whole. You want and want, desperate, greedy. 

You want to pop him like a balloon between two heavy hands. You want to be all the girls he’s seen before you. You want to be his best. You want him, hot and hard and alive and twirling a thumb around your peaked breast. 

Reverbs of pleasure. You let go of his lips just to moan in galactic shock, face scrunched. You taste the infinity on your tongue, the greatness of the universe; splinters of light. Why must you contain it inside your skin? Why must you smother it, kill it? You want him. You want him. 

“Are you gonna pray for my soul?” Matty whispers, low and hoarse, half-broken out of his throat. You moan again as he twists two fingers around your nipple. “Get on your knees?”

Clarity is a bucket of cold water. You come out of the deep end, gasping for air. Your eyes snap open. Matty is watching you with black eyes. You feel him against all parts of you; under your palms, on your breast, on your hip, still burning on your lips. 

You step away, letting go of him. He reaches a hand for you, trying to coax you back to him with a shrewd smirk. 

You want to spit the taste of him out of you. Want to scrub your skin where his touch still lingers. He’s marked you, you can feel it. You want to scrape yourself clean. (You want him.)

“You disgust me.” You say, even if your belly still swirls at the sight of him, even if you’re still dripping down your thighs, even if your lips are viciously red from a head-twisting kiss. 

Matty gives you a onceover purposefully, clearly considering all the reasons he doesn’t disgust you. “Yeah, darling. I felt that.” You blush, digging your nails in your palms in punishment. 

“Don’t talk to me again.” You say, even if you’re still out of breath. “You’re— You’re a bad influence.” 

He arches an eyebrow. “Me? You practically mauled me.” 

You frown, gasping in offense. “I didn’t—”

“I think my lip is bleeding.” Matty holds it, slurring his speech to prove his point. 

You snap, “Good.” You turn around, walking back to the Fellowship Hall without looking back. 

Your mother spots you, smiling as she beckons you over. She has her coat on, but she talks with Mr. Collins still. “There you are, honey.” She frowns, bringing a hand to your forehead. “You look a little flushed.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I’m not feeling very well.” 

“Oh, no. Are you sick?” 

You lick your lips. Apples and cigarettes. “Maybe.”

[wretcheddoll]

So this might be a hot take, probably not to any fellow Marius/Armand shippers but for people who dislike them I know this scene is quite controversial...

But, I love the bath scene and yes I do think in the context of the story that was a "good" thing for Marius to do.

"But Armand was a sexually traumatized minor with amnesia and the first thing Marius thought to do was to have sex with him?!"

-Yes, something that would be an extremely bad and a morally corrupt thing to do in real life can be a good thing within the context of the story you are reading.

"But Armand didn't want it! He was practically mute; he couldn't say no!"

-But he did want it, he literally thinks in his mind that he wants it before Marius does it, and Marius can literally read his mind.

Any hesitation Armand has is more to do with religious shame then not wanting it, which feels like a classic erotic scene, shame giving way to pleasure when your older more experienced partner guides you through it. And yes, a real minor cannot consent to a 1,500 year old vampire but again he’s not real and the key is to pay attention to the actual sentiments Armand is expressing in this scene, that of repressed desire and pleasure. He's filled with "warm thrilling sensations" he doesn't claim to feel bad in any way.

I also want to disagree with this notion that Armand instantly clings to any "abuser" that shows him an inch of kindness. Armand did not cling to his slavers, not the man who was "nice" to him and didn't make him do sexual things and stopped him from being beaten.

On the contrary, Armand is endlessly defiant towards his abusers and only surrenders in Marius's arms because he feels safe and loved with him, partially because he sees Marius as some sort of ethereal being and not a normal man. And also, because he finds Marius attractive of course😏.

The boys in the brothel being “soft” with him, he’s not into it at all.

The old man who never touched him, and showed him “kindness,” Armand saying he didn’t love him.

Armand finding Marius hot lol

Armand feeling like an active participant in his sexual experience with Marius, “We began the kisses again,” not Marius did this to me.

I know a lot of people say that Armand is an unreliable narrator in this scene, which I find silly because even if he is, this is still his emotional truth about this experience, and he doesn't feel bad or exploited or like he was raped by Marius 500 years later. I think you're supposed to take the "victim's" feelings about an event into account, no?

But for the sake of argument let's look at Marius's perspective of this scene from Blood & Gold.

So Marius is pretty lost in the daddy sauce from the moment he scoops Amadeo up, his caregiver instincts take hold lol

He's truly in his element.

Marius confirms that Amadeo is quite accepting and willing with his intimacy unlike how he was with his abusers.

I see this quote thrown around a lot without context, but all you need to do is keep reading and, oh wait that's not so sinister... He literally stops wanting to die because of Marius's kisses.

I also see this line used a lot to show how "bad" this scene is.

But again, I'd argue based on everything we're shown in TVA this has more to do with religious trauma/shock then being traumatized by what Marius is doing. We know Armand does not reflect on this experience in a negative way and remembers it being pleasurable.

The immediate after math of the bath.

"He was breathing as though he were safe." and "Yet in his mute expression now I saw pure trust." And Amadeo immediately calling him "Master." To me this shows that the bath was in fact a healing experience for Amadeo, he feels incredibly safe in Marius's bed, he's not having nightmares, and he's looking to Marius as his Master already without being told or influenced to think that way. And well, yes this doesn't heal his religious trauma or bring back his memories, (I don't think even the greatest head in the world could do that) it does relax him in the moment and make him feel good, which is exactly what Marius wanted to do. I certainly don't think there's evidence to support that it traumatized him or was a negative experience for him in any way.

All this to say, I don't think you're wrong if this scene makes you uncomfortable or grosses you out. I think it's perfectly valid to have big problems with the way AR wrote about teen sexuality and age gap relationships, but what I'm sick of is people acting like I'm stupid or a pervert for not "getting it" and finding this scene appealing. I get that a situation like this involving a real minor and a real adult would be inherently traumatizing for that minor, but Marius and Amadeo are not real, Marius is an ancient vampire without a human sexuality, not an adult man using Amadeo for his own pleasure.

Just because I find their relationship kinky and appealing does not mean I lack media literacy, but if you think Armand's story is supposed to be about his trauma from being "sexually abused" by Marius, I am going to question if you are actually reading the text as it is written, or if you are projecting your own feelings of discomfort onto Armand's character and their relationship as a whole. For me the crossing of taboos is a feature of Rice's vampire relationships not a bug, I like the father/son/lover dynamic that they have.

[moodymisty]

So work has been slow, and I've been thinking a lot about the Lorgar series you have going on and I was wondering, do you think that Lorgar's first experience with craving sexual intimacy is with reader ?

I'd imagine the cult of the Powers probably had some texts about sensuality and such, since one of the Powers is Slaanesh with a different name. Maybe scripts about things like ritualistic tantric massage. It's oddly cute to imagine Lorgar not giving those particular books much thought, until he starts having Thoughts™️ about a certain mortal that just won't fade. And then he soon has a pile of every old Slanat ritual book he can find near his desk, reading (and re-reading) them and looking at the illustrations with a voracity that surprises even himself.

Kor Phaeron is disturbed and baffled at Lorgar's new unexpected interest.

Also fun to think about: Reader being a virgin, and Lorgar's corruption kink just going feral and gnawing at the bars of its enclosure when he finds out he was the first to give her pleasure in that way. He'd be swinging between good ol' religious guilt ("I've sullied this Divine that walks upon us in the guise of a mortal, inflicted upon her my base desires.. I am more filthy than any beast...") and being Incredibly Horny that the two of you fell into "depravity" together. Or maybe even pride, that out of every person in the galaxy, He was chosen to lay with you in such a way, that He gets to be the one to experience your love.

I dunno. Just.. The Lorgar brainrot is REAL for me lately.

The Lorgar brainrot is real for us all, homie.

TW for like, virginity talk I know people don’t like that sometimes, and religious trauma

---

I think you could go either way. Given Lorgar’s power and position it wouldn’t be too off to say that there’s more than likely been many people willing to keep his bed warm for a night, and nothing more. In that way his time with you would still the first time it goes beyond just a basic human itch he wanted scratched.

On the other hand, you could say he’s never, and that his knowledge is purely theoretical. I’m sure not many people would be willing to proposition a man such as him and risk religious execution.

Either are fun, but let’s go with the ladder.

Everything is going to be looked at in an entire new light, now. Religious texts with romantic implications, or straight up Slaneesh books like you said, all read very differently now that he’s fallen for you. He can’t help but picture you in those moments. What were once normal passages now make his mind wander to darker places, less able to maintain his composure.

As for Kor Phaeron, I think that he knows that his son is getting lost in more primal, human desires, though he knows that he can do little to stop it. It angers him to no end, that he's loosing his grip on Lorgar thanks to something as simple as sex.

And if you’re a virgin to top it off, he’s going to fucking lose it. His corruption kink is on fire. His religious trauma makes him swear and scold himself the entire time he ruins something so pure. His shame burns at him like hot coals, as it nearly hurts from how much he wants you. Expect to hear mutterings about how you've given so much of yourself to him, how it's like you were made for him, how he ruts into you like a beast and tarnishes you. Though he would never dare to stop.

And if you wore a white dress/robe for him? The whole thing just about ends in moments. He's gone.

[the-trans-folk-witch]

Spirits within-

Part 1 The Fetch:

The Witch’s Shade and Its Distaste For “shadow work”

Alternate title: The [Un]Holy spirit of the Witch.

This blurb is meant to be lost to the internet as an opinion of one witch. This is not an academic writing documenting the fetch of folklore or of other traditions found in traditional witchcraft systems. Rather, it is a hot take on the mass hysteria and spiritual psychosis masquerading as “shadow work”. There will be discussions of the shade, the fetch, and the witch’s relationship with healing (or lack of) to follow. I am purely sharing my own beliefs from the tradition I’ve built. If anything here resonates please take it and add it to your own praxis. If you disagree then… cool I guess. Keep it to yourself lol.

The fetch has been called many things by different folks. Some titles being largely misused but nonetheless accepted: The witch’s shade, the hag, the shadow self, the inner child, and even the Unholy spirit. A creature within the pit of the stomach and/or the nether regions. In the average person, the shade is curious, animalistic, childlike, and sexual. It carries selfishness, trauma, greed, and lust. This is the part of the soul that sins and day-dreams. Everyone has one. Only, they all behave differently and the witch embraces its dark nature.

This is also the part of the soul that carries trauma. Within many modern occult circles this “inner child” is seen as something in need of healing. Something that needs to be nourished. This belief is valid from a folk healing perspective. The trad witch however, finds power within the shade’s restlessness. Healing it is antithetical to witchcraft. Before you run off saying otherwise, I wanted to stress that I am a huge advocate for therapy and self reflection. But as you may have guessed, My mental health practices do not overlap with my religious practice. Just as the folk healer is valid in the loosening of this spirit’s grip on their life. As is the witch in allowing their darkness to fester.

A term becoming more common within recent years would be “shadow work.” I have a complicated relationship with this term’s use. Again, there is historical necessity of spiritual healing. And many folk practices find importance in it. However, the western occult community has allowed toxic positivity to invade this idea of shadow work. The term is forced on all magical practitioners and psychology is being forced upon modern practices by people who are not licensed to truly deal out psychological advice. Many times have I heard false teachings such as “don’t do magic until you’ve done shadow work” as if it’s a one-and-done-chore. As if it’s linked to a spirit’s ability to help you. I can assure you, my money bowl will bring me money even if I have ignored my daddy issues and various traumas.

Shadow work has become a white E-girl’s fantasy that allows her to flex her DIY therapy and compartmentalization skills. And yes, it’s always white girls. Although, the white-ego and woman-traumas are a different type of blog post…..

Non initiated “witches” have removed the concept of the fetch and replaced it with psychologically obsessed and compulsory beliefs. There is an unhealthy blending of psychoanalysis and spirituality plaguing our world. Sifting through the healthy kinds of healing based practices verses the hysterical is daunting. But as a Witch I see all of it as unnecessary within my practice.

As I stated, everyone has a shade. But to the witch it is corrupt. It is not just curious, but hungry. It does not need to heal but to curse and steal. This spirit is not like the shade of the common folk. It can not be ignored, cleansed, purged, or healed. It is the witching spirit. It is the fetch. It is the hag. It is this self-serving and devilish outlook that has separated our shade from the others. This is not to say shadow work and the ever increasing interest for people to psychoanalyze their spirituality is unnecessary. In fact I’m saying quite the opposite. Despite the obsessive and compulsory need to constantly be healing and “breaking generational curses/trauma��; healing is important for humans of all beliefs. Folk healers have a long history of healing mental and physical ailments with prayers and the aid of spirits. But modern occultists have forgotten, the witch is not a witch if they are not hurt or oppressed. The witch is the opposite of healing and peace. The fetch reflects that. Our soul is stained by the devil. There is no healing it despite what the church tells you.

We all have a shade. But unlike Christians, I will not ignore it. I feed it. I will not shamefully confess the acts it urges me to do as a catholic would. I do not see it’s chaos as something bad. I do not believe that overcoming my trauma and getting therapy will effect my ability to craft spells as new agers do. I also do not think my spirits will refuse to help me just because I didn’t buy that stupid shadow work journal being advertised all over the internet. I am a Witch. A messy, cruddy, muddy, selfish, entitled witch. I am the villain society has told queers to be. I am the bad guy in most social settings. I purposely usurp, overthrow, and evade all social norms and authority figures just to make your skin crawl. I am THE edge lord of all edge lords. I do not seek to heal that wound. It fuels my witch fire.

TLDR: A shade born into oppression is likely to become a whitch’s shade. A living haint if you will. Blurring the lines between therapy and magic is not witchcraft. But it is not invalid either.

Now that I’ve established my beliefs in the shade and it’s transformation into the fetch; allow me to discuss how I view it as a spirit that can be worked with as a sentient daemon.

As an animist I quite simply view this shadow version of myself as being alive inside of me. It is a spirit I can send out to do my bidding and it is the hag I take the form as when I fly. An “astral body” as they call it these days. I will mention that many trad witches do not approach the fetch as a sentient spirit but do acknowledge it’s existence within them. Just as people doing shadow work do not approach this shade or “inner child” as an actual entity. But I prefer to view it much like Christians do the Holy Spirit. To me it functions as the Unholy Spirit which is placed within sinners by the devil. Wether it’s born with us as Catholics say sin is, or is placed within us upon dark baptism/initiation is up to debate. But it definitely is an outside source being blended with my own power. Hence the birth of it from trauma and magic.

My fetch appears in visions and dreams. Sometimes it’s beautiful and appears as a fictional and impossibly beautiful version of myself. It’s a jab at my insecurities. And other times it’s a gross wound of a being. Covered in wrinkles, hair, and sometimes bugs. The fetch is both my ideal dream and my worst nightmare. So, I use it to instill such traits in others. I take this spirit’s form upon myself and hag ride enemies. I steal beauty and wealth via dream visitations. I bestow disease and sour luck to those who have created this fetch (read ‘trauma’). It is the spirit within and without. A spirit that is me that has been made infernal and other. It is the Unholy Spirit made flesh.

[damnfandomproblems]

Survivor of purity culture: the religion i was a part of/born into taught me that my entire worth and existence revolved around sex and that I must stay sexually pure or else I am worthless, I am a whore, and I will/must suffer because I am a whore. If I want sex, think of sex, invite others to have sex with me, or tempt them, even accidentally, or sex is forced upon me, I am now impure and a whore. I can not show my specific parts of my body, or else I am tempting because I am a just vessel for sex, I am sex, I can only ever be perfect or a whore. If I sing, dance, or even just look at someone, it can be taken as me giving them permission for sex so I must not do or even want to do those things, or else I am a whore. If I am raped, I am impure and may even be forced to marry my rapist in order to try and make up for my impurity, and it will be called honorable, because I am now a whore. If I fail to remain pure for my future husband, I may be abandoned, verbally abused, physically abused, tortured, possibly even killed because I am an unpure whore. Once I menstruate, I am even more sexual, and even more disgusting. I must always allow my husband to have sex with me, even if I don't want it, or else he has a right to force it, because I am just vessel for sex to be acted upon, there's no reason for me to refuse my husband sex because my sex is his, I should not want to own my sex unless I am a whore. Sex only exists for reproduction, and to have sex for pleasure is to make me unpure and a whore. If a sex is shown in a book or television, that is evil because is tempts sex, it might inspire sex, and I should never tempt or want sex. I must hate this, or else I am impure whore. My whole existence is defined by, and thus, reduced to sex. I escaped this region and the sexual culture around it I was forced to submit too. I am going to give a label to this specific kind of religious culture so that I and other surviors, and even current victims who are still suffering under it, can find each other and share our experiences of it. This is purity culture, a religious based culture centered around people, mainly women, being and remaining "sexual pure" less they be considered less than nothing/a whore. While there are other religious aspects that are also inherently abusive, such as moral purity in general that all people are subjected to under the religion indiscriminately, purity culture refers specifically to the sex-based aspects that are more often than not are used to control and dehumanize, and opress women, but can sometimes be used against men, and particularly homosexual men, sense they're relationship is not based on reproduction and their sex only exists for pleasure

Proshippers: omg yay 🥰 I'm so happy you have this term to describe yourself and your experiences with ❤️ We love this term and help preach the word so other surviors can find each other 🙏

Antis: hey i don't understand how you can write in graphic detail about a six year old child's anus and/or vagina being raped so violently it is being torn apart and bleeding with every thrust and may even prolape from the sheer violence of this rape, and also describe in detail how the child screams and trashes around and how arousing their desperate fight and begging to stop being raped is, while also calling it hot and sexy every two paragraphs, in the author notes, and in the tags, and also go on to giggle with other people in the comments about how hot and sexy and fantasty it is unless you are pedophile/a danger to children. I am scared that you may want to rape real children and cause them life long trauma because their suffering and trauma is pleasurable to you, and so I am going to treat you accordingly to my belief that you pose a risk of tangible, physical harm and try and drive you off the internet in order to try and prevent a child from getting groomed and abused by you. I don't think you want to sexually corrupt the children, as I don't believe in sexual corruption, or that you want to make them unpure and whores, I think you just want to physically hurt them, and I want to protect them being hurt. I don't understand how the brain may like tadoo things when described/detailed in fiction but not when done real people in the real world, and so I lash out and react and treat these situations as equal, because in my mind, they/you and genuine predators are equal in the sense of harm risk

Antis: hey i don't understand how you can write a sibling x sibling or parent x child fic and constantly remind everyone how consensual and healthy and non abusive this ship is every two paragraphs, and go and giggle with other people in the comments about how cute and wholesome and consensual and healthy this incest relationship is unless you genuinely believed incest is consensual and healthy and not the result of extreme grooming and abuse 99% of the time. I am scared you may want to abuse your family, are abusing your family, and/or supporting people who abuse their family. I don't think you are making your family or encouraging others to make their family sexually unpure because I don't believe in sexual pureness, I think you are a risk to them and to other who may use what I perceive as your encouragement for other harm their families and want to run you offline to minimize the spread of I perceive to encouragement of abuse because I cannot understand how the brain may like tadoo things when described/detailed in fiction but not when done real people in the real world, and so I lash out and react and treat these situations as equal, because in my mind, they/you and genuine preditors are equal in the sense of harm risk

Proshippers: omg these guys are puritans!!!!!! Their disgust, hatred, and harrassment is a result of purity culture!!!

Survivors: No, it's not?? They're not harrassing you because they think you're impure or encouraging others to be impure, but because they can't understand how you can fantasize about something dark within the realm of fiction but also dislike it IRL?? They think you're at risk of genuinely hurting or encouraging others to hurt other people, not that you're at risk of tainting/damning yourself and others?? Nothing about their dislike is even religious based. They're not scared of you doing spiritual damage but tangible physical damage. Please don't misuse this term I made to describe the specific religious and sex based trauma inducing culture I experience to describe their behavior, it's mudding the meaning of my term, please find a different term or make your own to describe these specific people and their beliefs/actions. I understand their harrassment isn't right, and I'm sorry you're being harrassed, but they need to learn that they have a right to be disgusted but that their disgust doesn't justify harrassment. These are scared people being violent out of misplaced fear they think is justifed. They veiw their abuse as self-defense and defense of others from people who pose a risk of physical, not spiritual, harm, and you trying to get them to stop being abusive by telling them they're just fighting against you doing spiritual harm won't work, because they don't care about spiritual harm. Teach them that you don't want, nor encourage physical harm because that is the harm they believe you're going to do/encourage if they're willing to actual listen and you genuinely want to try and change their minds, or block them rather them feeding into their paranoia which is only going to make them feel more certain in their misplaced fear of you/other proshippers. That's not even mentioning how some of these antis are also just straight up children who, developmentally, are still self absorbed and literally cannot yet fully differentiate between them as irl minor and a character labeled a minor as piece of fiction. They don't hate and harrass you because your a degenerate whore trying to tempt them and other children into also being degenerate whores, but because they think you're attracted to real children too and are pedophile, and pedophiles are an inherent risk to children, a.k.a. them! They genuinely think they are risk by you, and need time to mature and learn otherwise, debating is useless with them, just block them

Proshippers: But how else am I supposed to describe them!? It's literally purity culture! Definitions change, I change the definition to include this! Purity is about all religious bigotry and toxicity, not just sex-based bigotry and toxicity! Purity culture isn't even based in religion either! All bigotry and toxicity and abuse is purity culture! So shut up and let me use your MY term because I need it!! They just think all we want to do is corrupt the youth and encourage everyone to be dirty, filthy degenerates! They just care about us doing perceived icky spiritual damage, not real physical harm, or else they wouldn't care!! You just think antis are innocent helpless uwu babies who need coddled and their nappies changed

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[skylarsblue]

★Rules & Links★

☆Characters I Write For ☆Masterlist One ☆Masterlist Two

Border by @v6que

☆Yes☆ ⭑Fluff, NSFW, Headcanons, Oneshots, etc. I can write angst, but I'm an escapist most of the time, so don't expect it too often/heavy. ⭑I don't like writing in a first person perspective, so, you'll likely see a "Y/N" in 'x reader' content. If you specifically request a POV, I'll try my best, but I warn you it might suffer in quality. ⭑My 'x readers' will be blank slates physically unless stated otherwise. (Ex; black!reader, fat!reader, AMAB!reader, female!reader, etc etc.) Note; I tend to write fem!readers. Not for any particular reason aside from me liking women. Women are hot. ⭑I'm fine writing most taboo topics, though subtext might change my want to write it. (Ex; I will write a character with a reference sexual assault if it's important to the story, such as trauma representation, I will not write the assault itself.) ⭑Examples of taboo subjects could be murder, gore, PTSD, mental illness, age gaps(WITHIN REASON), forbidden romances, religious imagery, monster characters, & SFW age/pet regression. If you're unsure if what you want falls into the 'yes' category, just ask. ★Note; If you suggest something with a character/self-insert that has a mental illness or culture that I don't understand, I'll try my best to research it properly and honor it. But if I slip up in anyway and make an inaccurate assessment, let me know! I wanna make sure my work is relatable and representative, not innacurate.

☆No☆ ⭑While I can maybe get behind consensual noncon or dubcon, I will never write a rape scene. Ever. If a sexual assault is important to a character's story, I'll imply or mention it, but you will not get me writing out the act. ⭑Incest, Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Racism, & Beastiality have no place on my blog. ⭑Age Play is a no. I'll do a corruption kink,I'll write a power play dynamic, I'll even do a daddy/mommy kink. You will not see me lewding things like coloring books and pacifiers. ⭑Cheating is also a no. The only loophole is if it's in the past or on an abusive partner. My reasoning? It makes me too sad. ⭑Not really a hard no, just a preference; I don't write hinge poly relationships very well. Poly is perfectly fine, but unless they're all in love, it's a little uncomfortable for me. I won't outright turn it down, but I'll probably struggle on that kind of dynamic. ⭑Any kink with body fluid that isn't saliva, blood, or jizz is a huge no.

★Note; I have ADHD and find it really hard to fulfill requests if it doesn't pique an idea/interest in me. So, if I don't get to your request, I'm sorry. I promise I try, but I can't do much bout it, believe me. ★Note 2; if you aren't sure about your request and where it stands, you can still ask! I'm well aware that context and scenarios can make a request not quite fit the rules. If I outright don't wanna write something because it breaks a rule or makes me uncomfortable, I'll just tell you privately.

[anatheyma]

I believe is a really cute fact that, when I leave for some time, the other anons go feral on you. God, it is kind of funny, even. Perhaps I am the scary looking dog that doesn't let strangers get close to his owner and I just noticed it. Do you want me to bark, also, Eddie?

It is cute when you post dirty things related to religion. I think it's amusing. Did you know I grew up catholic / orthodox? I have that perverse thing in me that enjoys corrupting fragile things way too much.

–🦴

YEAH you're my scary dog privilege >:) i'd love it if you'd bark for me, blondie~

and yes, i was raised christian but it clashed with my ocd a lot, therefore making me extremely paranoid and even scared when i was little. so! eventually i figured it wasn't for me since it didn't bring me peace and naturally now i'm sexualizing that little religious trauma i've got going on. i also have a corruption kink and all that... and i find priests hot. so yeah. the catholic and orthodox aesthetics are my favorite, though, visually. very pretty!

[bitterbride]

LEAST FAVORITES

MUSE NAME:  marishka. LEAST FAVORITE NICKNAME:  anything derogatory (situations differ, being degraded is something she is into with the right partners) and baby in certain scenarios. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR:  she likes most colors but maybe blue and some shades or orange LEAST FAVORITE SEASON:  winter or spring LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF WEATHER:  snow. LEAST FAVORITE — HOT OR COLD:  cold. LEAST FAVORITE HOLIDAY:  probably Christmas solely for the fact that it’s such a religious holiday, she loves gifts so she’s all about that but not her favorite. Christmas is also a time for family and friends and the holiday season can be lonely although it usually doesn’t bother her too bad. LEAST FAVORITE FOOD:  hummus  LEAST FAVORITE FLAVOR:  chickpeas. LEAST FAVORITE DRINK:  certain types of tea, she’ll drink tea but prefers coffee or a strong drink no matter what time of day it is. LEAST FAVORITE SCENT:  probably vomit, urine, and shit. reminds her too much of her human life. LEAST FAVORITE SOUND:  most human noises. LEAST FAVORITE BOOK:  the bible, a little obvious but that aversion to religion really sticks LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE:  enjoys most media, maybe the 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula for portraying Dracula as this romantic when she views him very differently. LEAST FAVORITE TV SHOW:  any political or documentaries that take themselves to seriously.  LEAST FAVORITE SCHOOL SUBJECT OR AREA OF STUDY:  religion. some history as well, just because a textbook says one thing that doesn’t mean that’s what actually happened. LEAST FAVORITE ASPECT OF THEIR JOB:  haven’t determined a career or job for her yet. easy out would be stripper but also she’s been alive awhile now i think she would have figured out how to have  some passive sources of income. LEAST FAVORITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:  n/a. LEAST FAVORITE PERSON:  depends on time and place but usually people who get in her way. LEAST FAVORITE TRAIT IN OTHERS:  pity. also sadness to an extent LEAST FAVORITE PLACE:  around turkey, she spent many unhappy years there and eventually died there. LEAST FAVORITE THING TO TALK ABOUT:  trauma, her past. LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT THEMSELVES:  how desperate she is for love and acceptance. her trauma. LEAST FAVORITE SEXUAL POSITION:  every situation is different, usually doggy.  LEAST FAVORITE DAILY CHORE:  doing her hair and makeup with limited access to her reflection.  LEAST FAVORITE STYLE OF CLOTHING:  boring clothes LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY:  finding a safe place to sleep if she doesn’t have a permanent residence nearby.  LEAST FAVORITE SUPER POWER:  doesn’t much care for the limited shapeshifting  LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT HUMANITY IN GENERAL:  the corruption, the hypocrisy.  LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT BEING IN LOVE:  the uncertainty, the fact that she has to be open and honest to have a healthy relationship.  LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT DEATH:  if dracula is still alive it would be the amount of time, effort, and energy it takes for her body to resurrect. 

TAGGED BY:  i don’t even remember it was so long ago. this draft is 7 years old. TAGGING: whoever would like to do it. feel free to tag me so I can see your responses! 

[getoswhore]

..wh-who do u think would baby trap u .. like in all fandoms cus I haven't even read tr but ur serial killer fic got me.. foaming at the mouth omg

cw/tw : pwp + time skip! characters, baby trapping, breeding, pregnancy, talk of lots ‘n lots of chunky leedle babies, talk of religion (taiju), some possessive, obsessed, and greedy men who want to trap you. <3

☰ JUJUTSU KAISEN!

toji fushiguro, who traps you mostly for money.

— you were already a hot milf before he met you; which was on a street where he was practically begging for a night to stay, and happily, you were willing to take him under your roof. and now he can't help but adore the way you treat him, care for him, even pay for him— which lit a spark in his brain, igniting the idea of maybe stuffing you full of his babies so he can stay forever.

suguru getō, who traps you out of greed.

— suguru has always been a greedy man, wanting more of what he can get his eager hands on. and he's never been afraid to back down to strive for what he wants; like little ol’ you getting all round with his babies, and he's a greedy man, so he won't settle for just one either.

choso, who traps you out of curiosity.

— choso couldn't really fathom the idea of how he was truly created. it was such an odd and cruel process.. which triggered his natural habits of wanting to poke at that curiosity, and soon ends up finding out other ways to breed a human like you, growing to the addiction of stuffing you full till he has you wrapped around his finger with a few babies in hand.

☰ TOKYO REVENGERS!

izana kurokawa, who traps you in beliefs it would help.

— izana is not in the right state of mind, and he believes a baby can help fix your table flipping, knife throwing, screaming, relationship. :D but somehow you end up with two, and then three, and then maybe four.. adding more and more to the family as if it's a warm coat, wrapping your mind only around them and not your flammable past with izana.

shinichiro sano, who traps you out of worry.

— shin has had his heart broken more than several times, and he wouldn't know what to do if he had his heart torn by you. so, he could only think of one way of making sure that would never happen; stuffing you full almost every night till you come out positive. he’ll even act all surprised too.

haruchiyo sanzu, who traps you for fun.

— sanzu knows in all the worlds he is not ready to take care of a baby— can't even take care of himself properly. but the idea of fucking you raw every night lingers at him, the idea making him jitter in excitement, and the drugs don't help his crazed hallucinations either.

hajime kokonoi, who traps you out of past trauma.

— koko is scared, to say the least. he's lost the woman he truly loved as a kid and clung to her even after death, and now with you, it's worse. he believes he can't lose the woman he loves that's pregnant with his babies, no god would strike harm to a pregnant woman, right?

tetta kisaki, who traps you out of insecurity.

— kisaki has been insecure his whole life but never dares to show it, well, he tries; the desperate rutting of his hips against yours is pitiful, he's so desperate to get you pregnant and prove to everyone that he can have the woman of his dreams to raise a family.

taiju shiba, who traps you out of religious beliefs.

— he's ill in some aspects.. his beliefs are strong, all yet corrupted, believing impregnating you is the only way to make you marry him, to make you fall under his beliefs he serves and prospers the way god intended a family to be.

☰ DEMON SLAYER!

tengen uzui, who traps you because he's flamboyant.

— tengen believes a man shone with a large family proves that he's a strong man who can stride and is capable for his own easily. and he likes that idea of being looked at strong, and he also likes the idea of trapping you to prove that theory.

sanemi hashira, who traps you out of past trauma.

— his past with his father haunts him. it dawns at his thoughts if he would ever be like him if he had a family of his own. and sanemi thoughts get to the best of him, soon trapping you for his own greed and abrasive thoughts, trying to prove to himself he would never be anything like his father, and raise his family well with love.

gyutaro, who traps you out of insecurity.

— you're so beautiful. so how can someone like you want to be with someone like him? it makes his thought run with sick ideas that you're just using him, trying to ruin him. his emotions run wild too, with confusion, anger even; makes him pound into you with with cruel thrusts, growling if you really love him you'll give him a baby to prove it.

☰ HAIKYUU!

keishin ukai, who traps you just because he can.

— you've been with him for a long while, and you still haven't brought up the idea of wanting a cute leedle family with him. it sorta pisses him off, so he takes it in his own hands; pounding into you till dusk, stuffing you full, and till that test proves positive.

kōtarō bokuto, who traps you because he can't help it.

— poor bo, he can't help but rut against you, trying so hard to push you past the limit of being filled to the hilt with his sticky white mess. he's always so heavy with a fat knot, always whining to pump you full till you end up pregnant, trapping you to stay with him so he can repeat the cycle till he's completely empty.

☰ MY HERO ACADEMIA!

keigo takami, who traps you because of mating season.

— he's a hybrid, a greedy bastard man of a bird, did you really expect not to end up pregnant sooner or later? his needs are through the roof and he can't help it, but he will help his natural animal instincts in fucking you raw, rutting you till your nice and plump for him, satisfying his heat and making you mama bird.

tomura shigaraki, who traps you out of obsession.

— shiggy is obsessed with you. who wouldn't be? why wouldn't he want to trap you to make you stay with him forever? you care for him, show him love that he needs and craves for, soothe his insecurities, and mostly, you respect him as a human being. and he knows he’ll never find anyone like you, you're perfect, and he needs you to stay with him forever.

kai chisaki, who traps you for experiments.

— he loves you, yes, but he loves the anatomy of a woman also. kai finds it so interesting the way his cock prods more in chasity when pumping his cum into you, finding it so beautiful how his sticky mess can fertile a woman like you till your all round and plump. and he can't help but keep stuffing you more for secret experiments he holds.

☰ ATTACK ON TITAN!

jean kirschtein, who traps you out of jealousy.

— jean has always watched the woman he loves be swooped away from him by, eren. and he could already see it happening; eren trying to swoon you, tryinbf to get you into bed with him by flirting and showing off his tattoos.. jean couldn't let eren get away with this again, so stuffing you full till you were round was his way of saying, “fuck off, fuck you, i won eren”.

reiner braun, who traps you out of love.

— reiner just truly loves you, well, a little too much. and he can't help but try to prove that to you to make you feel the same for him, to make you realize that you're now stuck with him after a nights well of fucking and stuffing you full, to make you realize that you're stuffed with his babes all out of love.

zeke yeager, who traps you out of self-loath.

— he isn't too proud for who he is or what he has become, so the thoughts of filling you full of his messy baby batter, and maybe creating a future strong heir that will be better than him makes him smile. but there's also that tingling, greedy thought that his babies will do far more than his dreams can ever achieve.

☰ HUNTER X HUNTER!

chrollo lucilfer, who traps you out of possession.

— he's a thief by heart, viewing you as a pride possession. and chrollo believes since everything you have given him is far too perfect for him not to just give something right back, he's a gentleman! even though if it's not something you truly want, well, at the moment.

illumi zoldyck, who traps you out of family beliefs.

— illumi has always looked up to his father, admiring how much control and power he has over a family who owns utter respect towards him. and illumi wants that, he needs that feeling of having such power, trapping you with multiple to gain that respect he deserves.

silva zoldyck, who traps you out of power.

— silva is a big and mean strong man who needs a tough woman like you to carry his strong future babies. and he believes stuffing you full is the only way to prove that.

[heavencollins]

Top 10 Films of 2020: Part One

2020 was a rough year for a lot of reasons, but even more rough due to the lack of an existent film industry for over half of the year.  Sure, there are small productions happening and movies being released on VOD, as well as some in theatres, but so many great films were pushed back this year—movies I was excited to possibly have on my top ten.  Minari, Promising Young Woman, Zola, The Green Knight, Saint Maud.  Okay most of those are A24 releases but A24 literally released next to none of their slate for this year and it’s one of the most disappointing things to happen in the entertainment industry in my opinion.  

Alas, I still found cinema through streaming, paying $20 for a VOD rental, and those amazing $1.80 rentals from Redbox (remember when they were only a dollar?  because I do).  And honestly?  It was probably the hardest time curating a top ten that I’ve had in a long time; with so much just available through the internet and owning every single popular streaming service, it was both impossible to watch everything I wanted but also since I watched a lot of what i wanted, I ended up loving most of it.  For a year that was so dismal in every other way possible, the films that were released ended up being a shining light more often than not.  Of course, like every other year, a lot of hot garbage came out too, but that isn’t the focus of this—the great, amazing, can’t believe these are real films.  

So let’s start from number ten.  This was my first and only $20 rental this year, starring a man who I personally admire: Pete Davidson.  

10. The King Of Staten Island, directed by Judd Apatow and written by Judd Apatow, Pete Davidson, and Dave Sirus.  

Judd Apatow is one of the first directors who I watched religiously, and hearing that he was doing a film with Pete Davidson that was essentially based on Davidson’s life meant that I knew I’d have to watch it.  Scott, played by Davidson, is a twenty-something with no direct path in life; he lives with his mother, his sister is going off to college—something he never attempted—and he has no real career.  His father died in a large building structure fire, much like Davidson’s actual father, a firefighter who passed away while responding to the twin towers during 9/11.  Scott is emotionally a wreck, plagued with depression and anxiety, a chronic weed smoker, and dreams of being a tattoo artist that he practices by tattooing his group of rag-tag friends, but none of the tattoos are very great.  

The thing about an Apatow film is they border the line between comedy and drama very well, kind of a complicated little dance.  But, King of Staten Island is very much a drama more than a comedy.  Bill Burr plays Ray, the father of a kid that Scott tattoos earlier on in the film.  Ray comes stomping up to Scott’s mother’s house, and Margie, played by Marissa Tomei, opens the door.  It’s essentially love at first sight.  She hasn’t dated since Scott’s father passed, and to make matters worse, Ray is also a firefighter.  This complicates emotions for Scott, as he loves his mother but also doesn’t know how to deal with the feeling that his mother is finally moving on and may face heartbreak again.  

Davidson puts it all on the table in this film.  It’s poignant and realistic; at the start, Scott is driving down the highway and closes his eyes, way longer than you should.  It sets the tone from the start that this man isn’t okay, but also he’s scared of dying because as soon as he opens his eyes again and sees he may be about to crash, he quickly panics and readjusts his wheel.  This struck a chord with me as most people know that Davidson has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past.  It’s a beautiful film that memorializes both how much Davidson’s father meant to him, but also the cycles of grief and trauma that last throughout your life.  

9: Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), directed by Cathy Yan and written by Christina Hodson.

Suicide Squad is one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen period, fact.  Birds of Prey is one of the best movies I’ve ever seen period, fact.  I never, ever, ever thought I’d see a day where a DC movie was in my top ten, but this year anything is possible.  Birds of Prey is a display of feminism, badassery, and all around perfection.  You jump right into the story, hearing Margot Robbie’s classic Harley Quinn voice laid over an animation showing what we missed in her life so far, which means you don’t have to have any previous knowledge of the other films.  Birds of Prey is meant to stand alone from any other movie preceding this one, and that’s just part of why it’s so great.

This film knows not to take itself too seriously.  Margot Robbie is a dream as Harley Quinn, using just the right amount of playfulness to put a little edge on her, while also maintaining the manic-panic-pixie-dream-girl effect.  Perhaps the best scene is when Harley goes and purchases the perfect egg breakfast sandwich, and then she drops it, causing a dramatic slow motion effect that proves she really does love that sandwich more than anything in the world.  Or her realistic apartment, nothing truly fancy, just a little hole in the wall above a rundown Chinese restaurant.  But then she has an amazing ensemble of other women actors around her, which are what really uplift her performance. 

The funhouse fight scene at the end may be the best in superhero movie history.  I mean, I guess, is Harley Quinn really a superhero?  She’s kind of the anti-hero, which is what makes her so great.  She’s somebody who isn’t even close to perfect but she still succeeds and tries to help and uplift the other women on her team.  There’s just something special about this movie that made me smile and laugh the entire time.  It’s a reminder that it’s okay to have fun every once in a while.  

8: The Assistant, directed and written by Kitty Green.

For those who don’t know, I work as an assistant during the day for a small business here in Vermont.  The work is mundane but it’s a job that’s giving me experience for the future.  In The Assistant, Jane, played by Julia Garner, is an assistant to a “powerful entertainment mogul.”  She gets lunch, answers phones, is the first one into the office, the last one out of the office, finds herself overshadowed by her male counterparts and getting the majority of the “grunt” work, and becomes more and more aware of what’s really going on at this office throughout a day in her life.  

What’s interesting about this film is nothing is ever seen; everything Jane starts to feel is just based on intuition.  Her boss is tricky, finding ways to keep his abuse of women out of the public eye, out of the eye of any female employees.  This is obviously in response to #MeToo, Times Up, and the Harvey Weinstein news from the last few years, and it works surprisingly well as a film that just unnerves you and gets under your skin.  

The reality of assault in the film industry is that until it’s widely public and known, nobody is going to know about it.  You can report it to your company, to other women, to other men, to anybody, and nobody will take you seriously until they either experience it themselves or know somebody else who has.  The Assistant hits the ball out of the park with the ending, even if it doesn’t give a vindictive satisfaction to viewers, because it’s simply the truth of the matter.  

7: Tenet, directed and written by Christopher Nolan.

I really don’t know what to say about this one.  It’s really controversial to like it but I absolutely LOVED this movie, it’s pure fucking vibes.  A lot of people are cinema purists, which I am not, and will never claim to be, which was a huge deal with this film.  Personally, this works way better at home than it ever would in a theater.  It’s slightly long, the sound mixing makes it so it can be hard to hear dialogue over loud noises and the score, and it’s the type of movie you may have to rewind  a few times.  

My partner and I watched this in 4K Ultra HD with subtitles on, and let me tell you, it was amazing.  Everything about the acting, the diversity in the film, the fact that Nolan literally has a character say “Don’t try to understand it, just experience it”???? VIBES.  That’s all I can say about it.  Plus, Elizabeth Debicki plays an actual badass who stands against her abuser and that enough is five stars.  A tall queen standing up against her short joker—absolute feminism.  

Sure, no character gets any development, but is that seriously necessary for every film?  It’s an action flick about time and space and none of it makes sense and you can’t force it to.  Why does everything need to make sense in a time where we are literally living through a pandemic?  Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience of Tenet.  It’s more fun when you don’t take it seriously.  

6: The Devil All The Time, directed by Antonio Campos and written by Antonio Campos, Donald Ray Pollock, and Paulo Campos.

I never read the book this was based on, but this film made me want to.  I love a film where multiple plot lines converge into one central story and this one did it so well, all with the same theme surrounding every single character: the guilt of sin and how no matter how much you think you can save yourself, you can’t truly save yourself.  I’m not a huge fan of Tom Holland, but he shines as Arvin from beginning to end.  Pattinson brings a creepy southern preacher to life with an accent that he will never be able to match again.  Keough gives a performance you can only sympathize with as you know she’s being manipulated the entire time.  Every character in this is corrupt in their own way but some in worse ways than others.

I don’t know how much to say about this one without spoiling it, either, because the core of this film is on the characters and what leads to their untimely ends, because pretty much everybody ends up dead.  It’s grim and dark but it’s so beautiful and tells the story in a way that keeps you interested throughout the entire run time.  It surprised me but there’s never truly been a Robert Pattinson starring movie that I’ve hated, so am I really surprised?  I’m a TwiHard at heart even at age 22. 

[auroras-blend]

Do It For Her

Summary: Pastor John Marks and Emilie Marks reflect on what to do after the custody case is decided. Takes place between chapter 6 & 7.

TW: Past rape mention, miscarriage, infertility, crisis of faith

“Don’t lose faith,” her husband said softly, “This isn’t over.”

Emilie was numb, feeling emptier than when she realized she couldn't carry a child in her womb. Tears softly rolled down her face, her eyes turning glossy as they gazed out of the windshield and at her home. Just a few hours ago, Marilyn was here. “They took my baby,” she finally whispered.

“Mr. Holmes is already filing an appeal. It must be a mix-up, we’ll figure this out,” John insisted, “Emilie…”

She felt her husband’s thumb wipe away her tears as he pulled her face to look at him, and when she met his own brown eyes, she broke down. “She called me mommy,” she sobbed as she buried his face into his neck while he took her closer into his embrace, “She called me mommy, John.”

Her body heaved with sobs, “They took our little girl and are giving her to...to...that monster!”

She tried, she had tried so hard to speak no evil against other people despite the sins they’ve committed. But this man...the father...he truly was a monster and they were giving a child to him. Emilie had felt a surge of overprotectiveness the first night Marilyn came to stay with them and it only amplified when the nature of her father was revealed. When she heard of his crimes, she knew at that point she would kill for her daughter. Her soul be damned! For Marilyn.

“She’s in the system. She’s not with him yet. There's still time,” John said with religious fervor, trying to convince himself that things would be okay as much as he was trying to convince his wife, “We’ll get her back.”

Her shoulders shook as grief wet her husband’s shirt, and she felt John’s own pain as the first of his tears met the back of her neck. “It’s not over,” he whispered again.

God willing. Please watch over Marilyn.

***

Emilie was busy cleaning the house for the sixteenth time as they waited for Mr. Holmes's arrival to discuss their options. The house smelled strongly of lemons as she scrubbed each surface roughly. She didn’t particularly like cleaning, but there was nothing else to do except being alone with her thoughts and she did not want to do that. John, knowing she needed this time, was reading his Bible, or at least it looked like he was. Her heart ached knowing that he felt like he needed to be the strong one, that he felt he had to hide himself away as he cried in grief over losing their daughter. Every night, she heard Marilyn call out to her, saying “Mommy!” again and again.

The loss felt as strong as it had when she got pregnant for the first and only time, before losing her child in the first trimester. She hated that she believed that for a moment she was a mother, that she had a child. The pain was unbearable and she swore never to go through this again. No more trying after this. I can’t…

The door rang, startling her but she played the role of a good wife and wiped her hands on her apron before opening the door. She went through the polite motions of removing Mr. Holmes's coat and putting it on the rack before leading him into the kitchen for refreshments. John, for once in his life, was all business. It was alarming to see him get down to brass tacks rather than first ask how someone was doing. Well, he did, but it was too quick. Mr. Holmes seemed in no way offended though, bless him.

“I’d just like to say how sorry I am that we did not get the outcome we wanted,” he apologized his face flushing red.

“There’s no need to apologize. You did everything you could, but please, help us now to get Marilyn back,” he said, his tone being the one he used to comfort their congregants.

Emilie observed the portly man who had begun to sweat in his brown tweed suit while loosening his red bow-tie. She immediately knew how the conversation would go when he swallowed the water nervously and wiped the sweat off of his brow with his handkerchief. Dear Lord… “Before we resume, I have to tell you a little bit more about Marilyn’s father…”

What he revealed to her next made her sick and went pale in shock. Marilyn’s father was...oh it was so much worse than she thought and it made it all the harder for her to come to terms with the fact Marilyn was going to live with him. She was right in her assessment. He’s a monster. She tried to focus on her worry, as much as she tried to avoid it earlier, instead of the wave of guilt when she realized exactly how that precious little girl was conceived.

Patience was very much a social pariah, and Emilie had done her best to make her feel welcome and included as part of her job as the pastor's wife, but she never really made the effort to include her in her social circles. Patience never seemed interested, and Emilie eventually gave up and respected her space.“It’s just how she is…” but now she knew that Patience was made that way by...that man. She had her own petty and snobbish assumptions of Patience’s past, believing that she was made of loose character and partnered with someone of equal moral fiber, which resulted in an out-of-wedlock pregnancy and single-motherhood. She had condemned her for being so negligent towards Marilyn, because “she chose to have and raise the baby”, but no. Patience didn’t choose it at all. She had no choice.

Her heart broke for the woman, and finally understood the bitterness she had in her but for once was in awe of her overwhelming bravery. Emilie could barely imagine such a petite woman taking down the mob. The mob! She prayed for forgiveness, for Patience’s brave soul, and for her daughter. There was no excuse for how Patience treated Marilyn, but it certainly did explain things and she couldn't cast her down any longer. “Why was this not brought up in court? How is it even possible that he received custody?” John asked angrily, not directed towards Mr. Holmes but to the corrupt system that Leonardo Borghese had utilized to obtain his daughter.

“It’s very complicated...family court typically has a preference for placing the child with living relatives. Her father wanted her and has the means to provide for her,” Mr. Holmes explained.

“He’s a rapist!” Emilie said, venom seeping in the last word, “He didn’t get a parking ticket. He got convicted of felony rape and they’re giving a child, a little girl, to him.”

“It’s a miscarriage of justice,” Mr. Holmes said simply.

“Did you know about this?”

“I-I didn’t,” Mr. Holmes stuttered, “Well...I didn't know who he was, but…”

“We have to get her back. We have to save her from him, John,” Emilie wept and squeezed tightly when John reached for her hand.

If he hurts her...no. No, no, no. Please Lord, spare her. Don’t let him hurt her.

“We will,” he nodded at her before turning to Mr. Holmes, “What’s our next step?”

Mr. Holmes sighed and looked away briefly, trying to find the strength from the cross by their window to say what he had to say next. “Right now, it pains me to say this, but right now it’s in your best interest to...to drop the matter entirely.”

It was like an explosion went off because she could feel her world shake. “What?” John asked, grinding his teeth.

“Leo-Leonardo Borghese is a powerful man. A dangerous man. I’m sure that he still...he still has his hands in matters in the States while he’s in Italy. It’d be...be dangerous to try and cross him in this matter,” he stuttered.

“I don’t understand. You want us to give up?” she asked, unsure if she heard that right.

He wants us to stop fighting for our child? Against a rapist! “For your safety and well-being, yes,” Mr. Holmes said frankly.

“What about Marilyn’s well-being?!” Emilie demanded.

His silence was telling. Leave her behind. It’s not worth fighting. “No. The Lord tells us to maintain justice and do what is right,” John said firmly, “We won’t allow ourselves to abandon a child who is in danger.”

“Patience Winslow didn’t take him down just to have her daughter fall into his hands,” Emilie said without a tremor in her voice, “She won. We can too.”

“We all knew Patience. Did it look like she won?”

That question silenced her. Patience put Leonardo Borghese away, but she went away looking like she was the one who was defeated. Leonardo was a prisoner for five years, but Patience was a prisoner in her own mind and trauma for the rest of her life. And she died in that prison. “All the more reason we can’t leave Marilyn,” Emilie’s eyes beaded with tears.

We have to do it for her. She needs us.

“I apologize, I truly sincerely do, but I-I have a family. I-I won't go against Leonardo Borghese,” he said shakily, “You’re good people. Good Christians, so please take my advice and listen when I tell you to drop it. Please, for all of our lives.”

Emilie shut her eyes and she felt John breathe slowly next to her, his hot breath fanning onto her cheek. “We don’t want to put you in a situation where you don’t feel safe, so you are no longer obligated to continue this case, but…” John said kindly.

Emilie opened her eyes and looked at him, listening to him speak. “We’ll take your advice into account but we’ll still discuss if we wish to proceed.”

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors,” Mr. Holmes said warmly, “And I pray you find the resolution you deserve, but time is of the essence. Marilyn will be traveling to Italy in only a few days' time. Whatever you decide to do, do it quickly.”

The husband and wife nodded before showing Mr. Holmes out. The minute the door clicked, John spoke. “I don’t want to put you in danger, Emilie…”

Listen. Listen to him first. “It’s my job to protect you,” he said, placing his firm guiding hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin so her eyes met his.

“Who will protect her?” she asked.

If he says, God, so help me…Emilie’s maternal drive kicked in, blasphemously believing that no one could protect her child better than her. Not even God. She resolved to repent later. “You teach us to be brave, that God tells us to defend the weak. Is it not hypocritical if we stand aside and do nothing?”

Perhaps her tone was too challenging because John frowned but he must’ve not seen it as too much of an egregious act enough to correct her. “We stood aside and listened to people look down on Patience, speak evilly about her without knowing what she went through. She told no one, she didn’t look for glory or sympathy. John, we owe it to her to protect her daughter. We owe it to Marilyn to give her a good life.”

Her tone was pleading and even if it wasn't in Pastor Marks's moral fiber to agree, he’d do it anyway when he saw the desperation on his wife’s face. He moved his hands from her shoulders to delicately pick up her hands, holding them warmly.

“Then let’s get to work.”

[spoonssporksandknives]

ableism in media: Star Wars

I’m picking on my favest of fave fandoms today y’all: Star Wars. Yes, you actually can enjoy a Thing while acknowledging that said Thing has problematic elements. I LOVE Star Wars, but it’s incredibly guilty of having people who look disabled as their visual shorthand for evil. I’m going to use examples under the cut, but before I do, I’ll say this. It’s okay for ableds to reblog this (please do in fact) but only if you’re actually going to engage in respectful discourse. Racism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, fatphobia and other related hot takes can jog on. 

Also also: Star Wars abbreviations and their main characters for the more casual fan: OT = Original Trilogy (Luke, Leia, Han); PT= Prequel Trilogy (Anakin, Padme, Obi-Wan); (Sequel Trilogy = Rey, Finn, Poe)

Now, back to our regularly scheduled light reading: ableism in Star Wars.

For our visually impaired readers, the top image shows Anakin Skywalker’s first prosthetic hand from AotC, with the caption, “A mechno hand replaces Anakin’s after he is maimed by Count Dooku. As a result of his impetuous passions, Anakin has begun to lose his humanity.”

The second image is of Anakin’s hand in RotS, with the caption, “Some Jedi Council members believe that when Anakin lost his right arm to Count Dooku, he lost some of his humanity.”

Because losing a limb makes you lose humanity, amirite guys? And they even did it twice: the top image is from the AOTC Visual Dictionary and the latter is from the ROTS Visual Dictionary. 

It’s in the sequels too, because nothing is more evil than being old AND disabled: (image of Snoke on his throne)

And I know that in a visual medium you need some sort of visual indicators of evil, but using disability as code for evil is all kinds of Not Okay. And let’s not forget that Vader was a huge walking symbol of that in the OT.

However, Star Wars has not limited itself to obviously disabled characters. There are no explicitly coded invisible illness characters (unless we’re counting Vader’s breathing but considering he walks around in a giant space iron lung i think we can say that even that is a visual disability) - there are characters who definitely display characteristics of invisible disabilities. And I’m going to start with the ST’s most overtly coded as mentally ill character. That’s right, it’s ya boi Kylo Ren!

(image: Kylo Ren walking shirtless, in high waisted pants)

(I was originally going to put in a gif of him having a meltdown and destroying a console but I couldn’t find one easily but him shirtless was easy peasy. Go figure.)

Kylo Ren has been a very divisive figure in the fandom - much like Anakin in the PT, and for similar reasons. Public opinion has softened much on the PT but at the time of its release people hated heavily on the things that were coded as mentally ill in Anakin as well - outbursts, whining (is it really whining if you’re worried about your mum dying??), tears, anything not reeking of machismo, basically. Now, there are parts of fandom that have gone out of their way to point out the ways in which Kylo displays tendencies that could be read as autistic/neurodivergent, borderline personality disorder (BPD), or even dissociative identity disorder (DID). Much of the hate that Kylo receives is quite ableist in nature. However, he’s not the only ST character to display mental illness and receive hate for it. 

Let’s talk about our reformed Stormtrooper and hero of the ST: Finn. One of the first major scenes involving Finn shows him having a panic attack on the field (and then later after his conversation with Phasma). Finn clearly has PTSD, or maybe C-PTSD - I’m a lay reader and not a psychologist here, on one hand, and on the other, I legit have PTSD and find Finn very relatable.

(image of Finn in his Stormtrooper armor, mask streaked with blood)

And one of the things that disturbs me most about fandom and its tendencies toward purity culture is the fact that many of us who have invisible - and in particular mental illnesses - do in fact enjoy seeing characters who are coded like us surviving, thriving, and yes, still being disabled. Finn has overcome a great deal to get to where he is in the story. Let Finn be happy. Hell, let’s let Kylo live and be happy too. (I know he’s the villain but can we not kill off the obviously abused character?) Dark Side characters often have some sort of trauma and again, it’s the conflation of evil and disability that disturbs me deeply.

And while I’m on the subject - can we talk about the inherent colorism involved in the Dark Side? Color coding evil as darkness continues to perpetuate colorism. I know it’s used because people are afraid of the dark, but in this day and age it’s naive to think that this bit has no psychological effect on the public at all. The choice of Finn as hero is wonderful and it disappoints me greatly that the hints of his Force sensitivity have not been followed up on as of yet. *has a small amount of hope that maybe JJ will do right by our Finn*

Now, there’s a lot that’s problematic about Star Wars’s Force philosophy, and I’m aware that I very much see this as a religious minority, but the Force takes a great deal from eastern religions and philosophies but then turns around and overlays it with some very US Christian light/dark and good/bad duality in a way that is nonsensical to anyone with a background and understanding of the original philosophies. I have an entire tag on my main blog about this, entitled Paganism and the Force. (For the curious, I made this blog because the main is mostly star wars gifs and baby animal videos. I didn’t want people to wade through it for serious stuff, but if that’s your thing have at it) I may cross post or add on to the series here as well. For now, I’m going to leave you with a quote from another writer, who has reached a similar conclusion:

“… it may be countered that the Sith are worse than the Jedi because they commit a number of obscene acts throughout the films, most prominently the use of the Death Star to destroy planets during the Galactic Civil War in Episode IV. Two points in response to this. First, it effectively amounts to a “what-abouttery” argument; an informal fallacy. The Jedi are moral degenerates regardless of what the Sith do or do not do.

Finally, it may be countered that the Jedi only use the light side of the force, and therefore are good, whereas the Sith only use the dark side of the force, and therefore are bad. This is an argument not of reality but of word connotations. Simply put, there is no logical reason to hold that “light” equates to goodness and “dark” equates to badness (emphasis mine). Crucially, both light and dark are equal sides of the Force; they have to exist, as is often said in the films, in a “balance.” Pretending that one side of the Force doesn’t exist isn’t going to make it go away (as much as the Jedi seem to wish this).”

--  Matthew Berto, 'Star Wars': The Sith are the Good Guys and the Jedi are the Bad Guys

War is messy, y’all. Atrocities are committed on both sides and while we might all like a clean cut narrative where the Rebels/Resistance do no wrong, it’s disingenuous and unrealistic to think that this is true. That’s not how war works. The prequels are proof enough that the Republic wasn’t perfect or glorious and considering the current political climate, I wish some people would break out the films again and watch them carefully. Palpatine took it over from within because it was already corrupt. If I lived in the GFFA I’d side eye anyone who wanted to make the Republic great again.

Now, though I have said it before, I’m going to say it again: you can enjoy a thing and still critique it without demonizing it. Love Star Wars all you want (I sure do, got my TRoS tickets for opening night the day they were made available), but maybe, just maybe if the public and the filmmakers could refrain from immediately conflating darkness and disability with evil, that would be great.

[latestnews2018-blog]

'The Proposal' Injects Your Favorite 'Bachelor' Tropes Straight Into Your Veins

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/the-proposal-injects-your-favorite-bachelor-tropes-straight-into-your-veins/

'The Proposal' Injects Your Favorite 'Bachelor' Tropes Straight Into Your Veins

Jessica — a 30-year-old Steelers fan who loves partying, whitewater rafting and science — makes her way center stage. She’s one of 10 women vying for an engagement with a stranger on national television.

In the first official challenge of the “soul mate pageant,” she and her competitors are required to “bare their souls and their bodies as they reveal what’s most important to them, in their finest beachwear.”

Welcome to “The Proposal,” a new ABC show that takes the “Bachelor” franchise’s recipe for instant love and grinds it into a powder you can rail.

The whole thing takes place in front of a live studio audience, on a set that’s part “Bachelor” mansion, part “Miss America” stage. The mystery man Jessica hopes to wife sits inside a futuristic pod, a curved, cagelike structure shielding him from view. He can see her, but she can’t see him. None of us can. 

“So the first thing I want to do is —” Jessica says to the audience before pausing. “Dad, I’m sorry, but I want to be vulnerable.” She then removes the sarong around her waist, revealing a white, ruffly swimsuit as the audience cheers wildly. The camera zooms in on Dad in the audience. His glazed-over grin seems to be saying, “My daughter’s a hoot!” 

Freshly vulnerable, Jessica takes out a collage she prepared, featuring photos of her parents’ “love story” that culminates with her birth. She flips the piece of cardboard over to reveal a blank side. “This is where I want our adventure to start,” she says, to heightened applause. “I want to fill this scrapbook with memories of us.”

“Bachelor” fans will recognize this move ― the family scrapbook left unfinished ― a classic gift that contestants bestow on the lead the night before they hope to wind up engaged. Except Jessica hasn’t even seen her suitor’s face, and she’s not even waiting 24 hours to become his fiancée. 

The hourlong (shit)show that is “The Proposal” premiered Monday night directly after “The Bachelorette,” appealing to viewers who think the beloved reality show’s procedural 10-week-long courtship is 10 weeks too long.

No longer must viewers toil through seemingly endless rose ceremonies to reach the orgasmic climax of the grand proposal and the sweet release of happily ever after. Now “Bachelor” junkies can jump to the finish line week after week for the ultimate grotesque love rush. 

ABC

Mike waits in the pod, shrouded in darkness on “The Proposal.”

The nightmarish spectacle, something right out of “Black Mirror,” takes the now codified “journey to find love” imprinted into the brains of “Bachelor” fans and boils it down to its essence. Physical attraction, check. Trauma porn, check. Teary speech about “finding your person,” check. Father’s approval, check. Neil Lane diamond ring, check. 

Our host is Jesse Palmer, a Chris Harrison type who has undergone a mandatory system upgrade. “What you’re about to see has never been attempted before on television,” he says, welcoming those in the audience and at home and congratulating us all for “making history.” Palmer, who was the Bachelor himself in 2004, seems to have dutifully observed the melodramatic yet monotone ways of Harrison, the veteran master of ceremonies, and adopted them as his own. 

We then meet the groom-to-be … well, kind of. One of the show’s strange twists is that neither the contestants nor viewers see the man’s face until the very end, as if the hourlong competition courtship weren’t worrisome enough.

A large screen rolls video introducing Mike, a 29-year-old police officer from Bakersfield, California. (The city has one of the most corrupt and racist police forces in the U.S. Hello, Prince Charming!) To prevent viewers from seeing his face, Mike’s physical form is obscured by an inexplicable, Alex Mack–style silver goo, yielding a sight as horrific and uncanny as Kevin Bacon in “Hollow Man.”

can’t believe no one told me that ABC’s “The Proposal” takes place in the Annihilation cinematic universe pic.twitter.com/p2asNvUUPQ

— Caroline Framke (@carolineframke) June 19, 2018

We learn that six years ago, Mike was in a motorcycle accident and lost his right leg. He’s still mobile and athletic, and he loves CrossFit. A woman in the audience wipes away a tear. 

Next we meet the women, including Jessica, who parade down a staircase in cocktail attire as batshit descriptions of them play over the speakers.

When Havilah “isn’t writing or speaking, she’s tending to her massive collection of dolls.”

Before medical student Rihanna started studying emergency room medicine, “she was a flight attendant, and she’s very proud of her calves.” (The camera then zooms in on those gloriously shaped gams.) 

Kendall, introduced as a baton twirler, has “been twirling batons her whole life … and sometimes those batons are on fire. Kendall is also a neuropsychologist.”

The last woman to walk the plank is Monica, a smiley, 31-year-old real estate agent from Southern California who “learned to surf even though she’s horrified by the ocean.”

ABC

Monica, the eventual winner of “The Proposal,” blows a kiss toward the pod.

After the women are introduced and before they utter a single peep, Palmer chimes in. It’s elimination time. “I know this is difficult. We’ve barely gotten started, but out of these 10 women, which seven would you like to see more of?” he asks.  

“Wow, this is a lot harder than I’ve anticipated,” Mike’s disembodied voice bellows from the general vicinity of the pod they’ve trapped him in. The show is a parody of itself. When he chooses which women he’d “like to get to know better,” each gives a little wave to the audience. Some blow kisses at the dark void where their future husband lies in wait. 

Next comes the aforementioned bathing suit competition, in which women can “be vulnerable” by exposing their dark secrets and sexy bodies for approximately 30 seconds. This is magic of “The Proposal.” It takes what “The Bachelor” says it’s about (finding love) and mixes it with what “The Bachelor” is really about (being hot and being on TV) and presents them both without pretense or apology.

Fans know the key to “Bachelor” glory is having a backstory that’s moving (I’ve been hurt in the past) but not too tragic (My parents are divorced), lest you be a cursed leper whose unromantic affliction will bedevil your future marriage. “The Proposal” contestants know these rules like the backs of their hands. One woman tears up recalling her battle with anxiety and depression, before running her hand down her slim figure suggestively and shouting cheerily, “Clearly I’m over it!” as the audience whoops. 

The depravity makes “UnReal” look quaint. 

After the bathing suit round, the women are whittled down to four. They then answer “deal breaker” questions that can be about anything — “politics, religion, even sex” — in 30 seconds or less.

First, Morgan’s up. “There’s no easy way to say this,” the voice from the pod roars. “How do you feel about dating an amputee?” After a moment of hesitation, Morgan replies that she is “not opposed” to it. “I believe the soul is what matters, not the physical appearance.”

Next is Jessica, the collage girl. “As a police officer, there are those dangers that we face in the field, in which we may not come home,” Mike’s voice booms like the Wizard of Bakersfield PD. “Are you able to live with that?” 

“I am,” Jessica responds without missing a beat, as if she cannot wait for her future hubby to be six feet under. “I definitely could live with that. I have strong religious beliefs, so I would believe you are always in God’s hands and he would take care of you and I know that you would be OK. I know our time is precious on this earth, and we would have so many moments, and I would hold those forever in my heart ―”

Palmer cuts her off. “Jessica, your time’s up,” he says. “Thank you.”

The camera zooms in on the starless prison keeping Mike captive. We cannot see his facial reaction but do see a slight movement from the right side of his head. Certainly he’s alive. Possibly he approves. 

ABC

A rare glimpse inside the “Proposal” pod.

In the next round, Mike’s best friend emerges from the audience to ask questions that only a best friend could. Kendall is cut for saying she doesn’t want kids — a rare reasonable moment amid the bananas display. The question of whether to become a mother is a complicated one, an issue that prevents many couples from committing to a life together. Fair! 

Before the final round, Mike emerges from the dark pod that has kept him captive to face his two potential brides. He’s cute, kind of like a meaty Wilmer Valderrama. “I’m glad I got to come here and see two amazing, beautiful, stunning women,” he says, putting to bed any worry that he doesn’t fully appreciate their complex interiority. 

Then the two finalists ― collage girl Jessica and smiley surfer Monica ― give last-ditch appeals to win Mike’s eternal love. They’ve both changed into glittery, floor-length gowns for the occasion. Jessica’s up first. She tells Mike she’s a “traditional woman” and needs Dad’s approval before taking the plunge. Camera jumps to Dad in the audience, whose eyes are welling with tears. For some reason he gives his blessing, assuring his withered 30-year-old daughter ― ancient by reality-TV standards of desirability ― will finally be dicked down.

Jessica takes a deep breath. “I can’t promise we’re never going to not have a fight or a disagreement or argue about what we’re gonna watch,” she says. “But what I can promise you is that I will love you and be there for you every single day, every step of the way. I’m your person.”

Holy shit. She starts crying, the sobs interspersed with eruptions of maniacal laughter.

She promises to love him when she’s “old and gray and 60 and can’t walk,” perhaps a Freudian slip about her future husband’s amputated leg. 

She closes with, “Let’s do the damn thing!” ― quoting the catchphrase of the current Bachelorette, Becca Kufrin. 

Then it’s Monica’s turn. She starts crying right away, and Jessica looks pissed. “I’ve yet to find someone that has as big of a heart as me,” she says between perfect baby sobs. “But you just seem to fit that really well.” Her speech is better less creepy. Jessica knows it. 

It’s time for Mike to close the deal. “I know from the very beginning I never thought I’d find somebody as special as you guys,” he says. “And I never thought I’d find love. But after hearing what you guys have to say, I feel like I have. And so … Monica.”

Mike gets down on one knee and pops out that sweet Neil Lane bling. Monica looks thrilled, as if this is everything she has ever wanted. The public performance of a fairy tale ending eclipses the value of an actual relationship with an actual partner. Monica and Mike eat each other’s faces. The camera zooms in on Jessica’s contorted grimace, giving its monstrous viewers just what they want: suffering. 

ABC

“Proposal” nation gets juiced up.

If “The Bachelor” is a simulacrum of the perfect love story, “The Proposal” is a simulacrum of that simulacrum. Yet there’s something freeing about the ludicrous spectacle, which, in a way, exposes the artificiality of the whole franchise. It also makes plain some of the unspoken assumptions at the root of “The Bachelor” philosophy that rarely see the light of day. 

For example, that women over 30 are tragic spinsters. And that love is something that blossoms between two hot people when they are “ready” and “open” and “here for the right reasons.” And most certifiably, that finding love on TV isn’t just *giggle* so unexpected *giggle,* it’s absurd. 

With “The Bachelor,” ABC has created a massive fan base, a “nation” addicted to love, humiliation and cruelty. Thus it’s the live studio audience upon which the “Proposal” camera loves to dwell — all those reactionary faces serving as a stand-in for our collective obsession.

We asked for this, all of us. 

Over 36 seasons, “The Bachelor” has perfected a reality-TV recipe as addicting as it is culpable. Every season, I swear I’m off the stuff, and yet every year, come the bios, I return. Glued to my seat, I watch the same story of love blossom, however impractically, offensively and inanely. And honestly, with two-hour episodes and an incessant programming schedule, who has the time? 

The McDonald’s to the “Bachelor” Cheesecake Factory, “The Proposal” offers the same giddy-guilty feeling on the cheap, in a fraction of the time. It’s a fairy tale romance and an all-American nightmare, packaged into an hour of cringeworthy, utterly engrossing, surreally dystopian TV. 

“The Proposal” is the final destination of “Bachelor” mania, infused with the disorienting pace of reality as we experience it in the year 2018. In its formula, aesthetic and (un?)scripted moments, the show out-weirds science fiction and outdoes satire. It’s the perfect reality show for a time when reality feels as if it’s sinking into the mud of an uncanny valley. 

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