#like I genuinely cannot conceive of a reality where this got made

[impercre]

@eclipsecrowned and I decided to try and crunch the numbers on Jodo's Dune. And-

[legacygirlingreen]

My silly little HCs for Sebastian Sallow

Some of these are really random but I’ve just had an abundance of HC lately so I thought I’d share:

✨ I GENUINELY see a world in which Sebastian could be slightly messy in some areas and very orderly in others. I don’t think he’d be messy in EVERY aspect of his life. Sure his hair is messy (this i attribute to it’s natural texture and the fact he’s a teen boy and likely doesn’t care that much about it), that large stack of books near his bed and on his desk are messy and I’m sure his life can at times be pretty chaotic - but I get the vibe he still cares on occasion. He’s always dressed properly for class, no less than Ominis or his other classmates. I’m sure his papers and class notes are very immaculately organized and he’s got a system that on surface level looks chaotic but to him makes sense for his books and other possessions. I also don’t see it possible that he can be a complete slob either given how small the feldcroft house is and having to share it with Anne and Solomon (and Ominis).

✨ I think as a child he definitely had to learn how to self sooth, or find ways to entertain himself. We get hints that his parents were often locking themselves downstairs to research, leaving him and Anne to their devices and he seems very well liked by his professors - so this leads me to think that with the exception of the resitricted section and occasional mischief, he may not be as “high strung” as he’s often made out to be. With the amount of time he spends reading, snacking and just overall finding ways to keep from boredom, I can see a world where afternoons with Sebastian are much more laid back than one would imagine.

Which leads me into some loose ideas I think he’d conceive if he was dating you/MC:

* laying in the grass together on sunny days, reading silently, pointing out cloud shapes or looking for 4 leaf cloves together

* swimming in the sea in summer, sunbathing on the shores, skipping rocks

* baking the muggle way and enjoying homemade pie over candle light and engaging in thought provoking conversations

✨ I don’t think that Sebastian cares too much about his physical appearance as a teenager but I can definitely see it slowly becoming more and more a priority as he ages. Several people have pointed out that there’s a razor in their dorm and if you zoom in you can see he’s got the appearance of hair follicles on the high resolution zoom in screen grabs, so I think by seventh year he’s experimenting with facial hair. Probably sideburns or just a mustache as that would’ve been fashionable for the time, but I can see him letting his sideburns go in his least year at hogwarts. He’d claim it was “more convenient that way” since he “didn’t have to waste as much time shaving his whole face” but in reality he just feels more grown up and mature and he likes it - but likely wouldn’t want to be seen as vain.

✨ Sebastian grew up with a twin sister and is likely quite well versed in female anatomy and issues… he’s more than likely a SAINT when it comes to that time of the month, however I don’t think he’d see it as anything to mention. Likely just know it’s roughly that time again, casually offer more snacks, perhaps offer a simple back rub without saying anything, or other varieties of comfort without acknowledging WHY he’s doing so. If you ever bring it up he’d likely just shrug and say “just tying to be helpful since I know you likely don’t feel well” And leave it at that.

✨ I can see a variety of the love languages being important to him. I do agree he likely responds well to physical touch. You cannot convince me otherwise that he would not adore having someone play with his hair. He turns into a puppy immediately and it’s canon as far as I’m concerned. He also likely knows some mild form of braiding due to Anne so he probably equally enjoys returning the favor in that way. Sebastian gives me more strong touch in private but little to no PDA . Exceptions can be made for timely acceptable actions like a hand on the arm to escort but nothing crazy like necking in halls.

✨ however… private Sebastian could be a mixed bag. Initially I see him slightly nervous. Sebastian seems confident and headstrong in areas he’s familiar but we don’t see him ever feel unprepared. I get the sense he’d be anxious when he’s going in completely blind to new arenas like physical relations with a girl… So early on here May be apprehensive. I agree with the thought he would research all he could and go out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and he prevented pain. But once he’s got a good handle in it… he’s always looking to improve until he’s confident he’s making you feel incredible…

✨ Sebastian finds feminine hands to be so interesting. Despite not liking PDA I can see him constantly grabbing yours, examining them, admiring the softness, pressing kisses to the back of them, and just all around finding them so insanely beautiful despite being so simple.

✨ Sebastian sallow definitely is the type to practice his signature constantly. He gets bored in class I imagine, with as much reading as he does, he’s likely way ahead of his peers. It’s common to see him doodling out new ways of signing his name and he still hasn’t found the way that’s quite him yet but he will eventually…

✨ deep down I think he can be very self conscious. I imagine he’d find certain features less than perfection … such as his wide nose or bushy eyebrows. Dark eyes and dark features are quite common , I can see a world in which he so often feels quite plain. However the right partner coming along and kissing that button nose or playfully stroking his brow while he rests his head in their lap would slowly make him feel better about what he sees in the mirror. Being complimented on his appearance, something I’m sure gets lost in his many talents, would mean the world to him.

✨Sebastian has a sweet tooth and would 100% rock the dad bod when matured . He’s lean now with all the hogwarts cardio, but once he slows down he’s getting thicker. Just look at Solomon and tell me the sallow genes aren’t slightly husky (Also check out @rednite-dork bc she’s got some awesome art depicting a more aged up, dad bod seb and they are mouth watering 🤪)

I have soo many more but here’s some loose HCs , and I’m always down for a part 2💚

[dgcatanisiri]

So... something kinda hit me abruptly and pushed me to feeling about ready to snap, so... Have a word vomit. Kinda feels like a greatest hits compilation of  my “another angry queer rant” tag, but I need to get it out, so...

I know I’ve been over plenty about how I don’t feel represented even when I have something with gay representation. How I’d give dozens of Dorians and Iron Bulls to get even one run of Inquisition that properly has my male Inquisitor romance Cullen. How when I look at Mass Effect - this franchise that I love - I can only see how much it hates me for being a gay man who dares to seek content for me. How godawful it is that Gil’s story, a story that is explicitly a story centered on a gay man and the difficulties he faces BECAUSE of being gay, was written by a straight person who ABSOLUTELY does not GET. IT. And how fandom as an entity sucks, because so often it feels like the attitude of the people in it comes across as telling me that my desire to be represented in my media somehow comes in second to celebrating the advances solely for women, that my needs as a queer MAN (the emphasis usually theirs) are less important, because I can still see myself AS A MAN in other characters throughout media.

But... That doesn’t change the fact that this is a very real, very tangible THING for me to grapple with. And sometimes it feels like no one ever, EVER talks about this.

I mean, my go-to example is that after Inquisition dropped, you could not say A WORD in criticism of Dorian without people jumping down your throat, chomping at the bit to call you a homophobe for it. No matter what reason - but ESPECIALLY if you thought he was “too stereotypical” - you got hit with that label. Even if you were gay yourself, it was just your “internalized homophobia” that made you dislike him, or even being biased against the people who genuinely do lean in to the stereotypes, don’t they deserve representation too?!

Well, yeah. It’s not like I was saying they don’t. But that it’s a stereotype means it’s often still in media, still often THERE. It’s not always good representation, but it’s something. Meanwhile for those of us who AREN’T? It just meant further exclusion from the narratives. A continuation of our invisibility.

And sure, one queer character cannot represent every queer person, one individual who embodies one letter of the alphabet soup cannot be everything to everyone under that individual label. But, again, it still means that I don’t get to see myself.

If media representation is a life preserver, then I’m getting pulled out to sea while the lifeguards are busy with people who are closer to them than I am. Which, you can call it triage, cast the widest net to hope to get the most people, but when you’re one of those who are not even able to grab on to the net and use it to pull yourself closer, it’s not helping. And, because they’re focused on those who have grabbed on to the net, your struggle continues to be ignored.

Worse, sometimes they aren’t factoring you in the net they’re throwing (yes, I’m aware my metaphor is getting increasingly strained, just work with me here) because they think you’re not in the trouble they think others are - if you can “pass” as cishet, if you can exist without actively fearing for your safety, if you are the kind of person who can walk down the street and not expect to be harassed because you “present” gay, then you’re not as in need as those people who can’t, who are going to be threatened for existing while visibly queer.

But the truth is that you’re still suffering. I’m not gonna get in to the whole oppression Olympics nature of it all, but there is an element that those of us who “pass” as being “straight-acting” (and, for the record, I think these terms are bogus and bullshit, but I’m using them for the sake of simplicity in getting my message across, because I’m stream of consciousnessing this post instead of going to bed so you’re getting babble and word vomit so that this isn’t playing on a loop as I try and sleep) suffer that... I’m not going to say that it makes it worse, but it does have this level of SOMETHING that is a unique pain that you aren’t going to find from the people who are visibly and noticeably queer at a glance - it’s not just isolation, because this is something that you end up not talking about because no one around you realizes that you are queer, but also this voice in the back of your mind that starts questioning “are you REALLY queer? Are you queer ENOUGH?”

And that’s why it hurts that little bit more, is that much more a twist of the knife, when I see these people who push the “joke” of like “why did they even HAVE male Shepard?” or “the only way to play is as Kassandra.” Because it does reinforce this idea - that there is this attitude of this thing, this character that I was seeing as representation doesn’t matter. So that I take strength in that character, well, that’s just me latching on to REPRESENTATION AS A MAN, and we’re not here to protect your fragile masculine ego.

When all I’m looking for is a queer man like I am.

And sometimes, I don’t even feel like the other queer men I can look to get it. Like, there was that time about a year ago that I looked up issues of queer men in video games, and the three videos I found all got an “...and NOPE!” reaction from me - the first argued in math about how “queer people are a small portion of the population, we can’t realistically expect to be represented equally,” even though we’re talking about FICTION, which is, by definition, NOT reality, the second was clearly a cishet who compared not being represented as a queer person to not being represented as a Swedish person, and then a third who first had a thumbnail on a video of “good and bad representation” and Kaidan was the example of bad (so a negative mark against this video to begin with, but I was desperate), only to lead with Dorian as a good example, which... *vague motion above and at the “dorian critical” tag* I staunchly disagree with this stance.

Like... I have to struggle to think of who my role models in being a queer man are. It’s not just who fits my story, but who do I look up to, who inspires me. And, admittedly, the luster for any personal hero seems to inevitable wear off at this point, I’m in my early thirties, and most of the media I consume will have characters who are my age or younger PERIOD, so my queer heroes would have to be people I’d consider either peers or even someone who I am older than...

But then, that’s kinda the thing about being queer period - we lost a generation to AIDS, and for those who followed that generation, we’ve had to live in this world where our heroes don’t exist like us, while trying to pave the way for those who come after us, and who can’t conceive of what it is like to age - as in “go from adulthood to middle age to elder,” not just the matter of growing up from childhood to adulthood - and so even as they’re the one who we want to give all of this to... It still means we suffer because no one is there to offer US that hand.

And yet, try to explain this to media creators, and you get ignored or even shut down. Like, I about a year ago, I directly replied to tweet from Patrick Weekes, explaining how Inquisition failed me, how all bi LIs actually HELP me feel more represented as a queer person than the mix of sexualities that BioWare on the whole has said that they intend to do (re: the difference of LIs in DA2 and Dragon Age Inquisition). It got no response, not even a like to indicate that it’d been read by them. I could form in my head the response I’d have inevitably gotten from David Gaider when he still had an active Tumblr of what would amount to, nicest, “we cannot please everyone, enough people were moved by Dorian’s story to make it worthwhile, sorry.” Given some of my cynicism, I can’t help but believe that it would also have come with a “sorry you feel that way.” Particularly considering some of the comments he’s made about Cullen and Kaidan as LIs, both of whom being characters I connect to more than others in their respective games...

And like... Gaider is a gay man. Weekes is nonbinary. But they are from that generation who view being able to exist openly as queer as a revolutionary statement, which... It’s a statement I want to make, sure, but it’s not a revolutionary one to me - “existence” is the bare minimum. To me, focusing on existence as a queer person is to say that the queer character must justify existing as queer in order to be a part of the narrative. But what is revolutionary to me is to give the queer person a story in the narrative that has NOTHING to do with their queerness.

Like... Fantasy world here, Inquisition drops with Cullen and Cassandra as same-sex exclusive LIs, while every other aspect of their stories are the same. Women can’t romance Cullen, Men can’t romance Cassandra. Other than that, we have Cullen with his addiction/redemption arc and Cassandra not just struggling with her faith but even getting the chance to be Divine. Yes, fandom would FLIP. THE FUCK. OUT. But here’s what it says - the things that these characters go through in the course of the game are not defined by their sexuality. Hell, with these characters specifically, you get characters with MASSIVE relevance to queer stories that AREN’T exclusive to being queer - addiction is a real issue in queer communities, given how many of our safe spaces are bars or clubs, places where alcohol (and thus alcohol abuse) is easily obtained, and, by extension, drugs as well. Meanwhile, there are SCORES of queer people who struggle with the question of faith in the wake of their queerness manifesting.

THAT is revolutionary. To take these stories that straight people get all the time, that certainly have meaning as queer stories for the queer audience... And yet, when they go to these (hypothetically) queer characters, it has that subtext without making the story ABOUT their queerness, while still making it clear that, in this version of things, they are queer - players couldn’t pretend that it’s only in some parallel universe that they are queer, they would only be attracted to the same sex PC. THAT is revolutionary.

Or, y’know, take it back beyond BioWare for a little bit here - all the characters I feel the most connection to emotionally in TV shows are straight. All these men who are my role models only ever get shown being involved with women. At most, they’ll get queerbaited as MAYBE being queer, if you just keep watching! Inevitably, of course, they are not queer by the end of the show - the closest to date is the debacle that is Supernatural.

Yeah, there’s representation for ya.

And then there are those who end up looking at what I see as thoroughly inadequate and... They’re happy. They praise it. They look at this thing that hurts me, that excludes me, that can, when I’m in the bad headspaces, even make me question myself... And they have found something they like with it.

Which, for the record, good for them, genuinely and sincerely, I really am glad that someone is getting something out of this, but... Well, see above: life preserver, isolation, “sorry you feel that way.” Everyone else is getting what they needed, but what about me? When does my representation get to appear? Why am I always being left, scrounging for the scraps of the scraps? Why does other peoples’ representation always seem to get shoved to the front of the line, leaving me languishing in the back.

That’s the real thing about all of those lines of “if you don’t like it, go make your own!” At this point, even if I did manage to get something in my to-write folder cleaned up and ready to go, in reality... How am I supposed to feel like anyone other than me WOULD proceed to read it? That the audience would exist? Because... no one seems to care about this audience. Hell, how would I get anyone to publish it if it is only going to appeal to me?

I feel on the margins of the margins, where no one really cares. Hell, even here in my own blog, I feel afraid of backlash - I’ve had the assholes show up in response to like little brief comments that are off-the-cuff rambles, not worded in a way that makes them a full, detailed accounting, and either take them as evidence that I, personally, represent all that is wrong with fandom at large, or that I am a target for their trolling. Because saying that “I find the jokes about male Shepard not mattering to be diminishing of me as a queer person, can we please stop this?” is somehow not just lesbophobic, but VIOLENTLY lesbophobic. Or that saying that I don’t care that bad things happen to a fictional species is somehow advocating for violence against actual women. Or even explicitly calling out BioWare for lovingly lingering the camera on Miranda’s ass is slutshaming her. And of course, there are the assholes who responded to me saying on the BioWare Twitter announcement post for the Legendary Edition that, if it didn’t have a full trilogy male Shepard/Kaidan romance, I wasn’t buying it, and proceeded to a) call me entitled for it (like, read a dictionary, the very fact that I have to call for this content that doesn’t exist in the game proper is the OPPOSITE of entitlement...), b) tell me that I “shouldn’t deny [myself] a great story just because it doesn’t have gay people in it” and c) just generally be homophobic. Even in rolling with it on the basis of “the trolls are gonna show up period if you make it clear that you care about something, especially if you are trying to get representation for some group that is in the minority... It gets exhausting. It can be harmful. It makes it clear that you’re not welcome, even when you’re supposedly united by the fact that you and these people supposedly love the same piece of media.

I mean, among those examples, I’ve given the statements that inspired those responses no tags other than my own organizational tags, but SOMEHOW they find me anyway, so it wouldn’t surprise me if I got accused of like being another White Gay™ with this post, that I simply want to center the conversation wholly on myself at the expense of all other intersections of queerness and other identities or something for saying all of this, even though this is, and it says so from the start, a vent post, which, by definition, is centered on myself because it’s about me and my experiences and emotions. *sigh*

Anyway...

And, y’know, when BioWare actively refuses to even ACKNOWLEDGE that the absence of a full trilogy M/M romance option is a bad thing, it just ends up saying that the trolls are actually the audience they’re willing to court. That Supernatural ending with a brothers only focus that doesn’t even allow Cas to be mentioned other than offhandedly while suppressing ANY kind of emotional fallout to his admission of love says that they don’t care about the queer people who at the very least the actor was trying to be respectful and representative of. That every piece of media that says that to have a queer person in it, their presence must be explained and justified is saying that there needs to be a REASON for queerness, a reason that is not “because people are queer, and queer people come in as many stripes as cishet people, and so media should reflect that spectrum just as much.”

Even when the numbers of queer characters in media goes up, it doesn’t really move the needle. And that’s not even getting to the difficulties when you are any mix-and-match combo under the queer umbrella, or any other identity that intersects to marginalize someone in our society. It just...

Y’know, it doesn’t feel like “it gets better.” Rather it just feels like being stuck in position, just with a changing backdrop. Sure, things look different by the end of the day, but that doesn’t change that you’re not getting anywhere.

[usurpyr-a]

[ taste ] for (Mikasa) to cook for (Eren) :''^)

                             “... Huh ? What’s all this for ?”

THERE’S NO special occasion he can convince himself of: no significant date he recognizes as belonging to an important anniversary / a holiday / a reason why that would offer up a substantial enough explanation to excuse his rampant paranoia. Not that he distrusts Mikasa, necessarily, not in the way of cooking - she carries a familiarity with her into the kitchen that is indicative of a quiet childhood spent at her mother’s elbow, watching her work ( the both of them ). A far cry from the days of his careless youth, when the retort to his own mother’s asking for assistance in preparing dinner had been something along the lines of “but that’s a girl’s job” - to which he had been promptly hauled up by the ear and made out to be an unwilling accomplice, every night, for a whole month, until he knew his way around the knife and ladle. Unaware, the whole while, that even his vehement railing against the unjust ‘punishment’ he had received was all just a part of her grand design - a patient waiting game / a guiding hand: what do you want to have tonight, Eren ? How about I teach you to dice potatoes, hm ? Or maybe we could make something sweet, what do you think ? Some apple tarts, how does that sound ? Can you do it on your own this time ? Can you show me how you made it ? How does it taste ? What did you learn ? Wasn’t that fun ? I’m so proud of you, you know.

No, he doesn’t distrust Mikasa as a chef. The problem is that he trusts her almost a little too much - the smell of that vegetable stew she had just placed in front of him is uncannily nostalgic, after all. Bordering even on the absurd. He nearly convinces himself of some kind of witchcraft, a trick of the senses / memory betraying him for an idolized ideal, that’s all, that’s all. But. He finds himself picking up the spoon regardless. He falls all-too-easily back into that old habit of not asking too many questions, at least when food is involved. Fresh food, at that - more than a starving little orphan on the street could ever hope for in the depths of a recession. He’ll just have to accept the reality that this is, apparently, another one of Mikasa’s spontaneous ‘good deeds’, which have been becoming more frequent as of lately ... Restlessness, perhaps ? He has always known Mikasa to be a very, ah, active spirit. Nevermind that most of these ‘random’ acts of kindness have been dedicated specifically to him, it seems - just another facet of her coddling, overbearing, protective mother-hen nature. Though he has not quite yet reached his threshold for refusing her at every turn ( so he will forgive her this once ).

Eren takes a tentative sip of broth - she’d had the courtesy to wait for it to cool a touch before serving, knowing full-well he’d scarf down any meal too-quick to register his tastebuds melting until he was already more than halfway through. He hums, feeling a stubborn knot in his sternum finally relax under the torrent of warmth flooding through him. This is ... exactly like Mom used to make. I didn’t think such a thing was possible, after all this time ... had Mikasa really been paying that much attention ? It’s a ... not an unwelcome feeling, but ... For whatever reason, he’s reluctant to admit how much this has moved him / shifted something inside, as though a burden has finally been unshackled, the skin raw from where it had chafed against guilt. He can’t recall the last time he ever felt such a way. And Mikasa was able to do it, with a simple soup from when we were kids ...

“It’s ... good,” he finally manages, swallowing heavily. Suddenly, the idea strikes him: possibly ill-conceived, but the words are already tumbling out of his careless lips, too late to take back. “Hey,” he continues, looking evenly at her, “you should have some, too. Doesn’t feel right, me having all this for myself when you’re the one that worked so hard to make in the first place.”

Except. He already knows her answer, sees it in the nervous wrinkle of her nose: I’m alright / I made it for you / just enjoy it, okay ? He tries not to let his annoyance show, convinces himself of his maturity, the years spanning between the here-and-now. But something is inexplicably pulling him back into his past ... not that he is resisting it. And this is not a childhood of bitter arguments and scraped knees, utensils tied haphazardly to the ends of broomsticks, the ground trembling underfoot / eyes transfixed on the haunting image of some cherished someone’s last moments in the hand of a giant marauder-- This is warm summer days and carefree laughter echoing through the streets, a parent’s unconditional affection, pillowcases suspended from a clothesline / their billowing reminiscent of far-off ocean waves. These memories are cherished, yes, but have wasted away in his mind’s eye / been buried like so much else under the rubble of his old life, the life that could have ( should have ) been. How can he be sure he is remembering correctly ? How can he be sure he is recalling the correct taste, the correct atmosphere ? When he’d last thought of his mother, was she different than as he thinks of her now ? How many of her wrinkles has he smoothed over in his imagination ? How many of his angry, hurtful words has he since swept from her brow, in an effort to preserve her forever as the saint-savior-martyr of his youth ? All along, has he been the one robbing himself of resolution ?

... He’s never been good at it, talking to Mikasa. He’s never been any good at talking in general, forever to be known as the bull-headed boy that goes about spouting whatever inane nonsense that jumps to the tip of his tongue. He’s reserved himself, recently, to speaking only in whispers / small sentences / clipped tones. Perhaps that is the greatest deception he’s ever committed himself to: a manic desire to be at once suddenly unapproachable. But especially in the earliest of hours, like today’s, his guard slackens / slips off like an ill-fitting coat, too large for his slim shoulders. He’s never been good at pretending, either, but that hardly matters when any mood he adopts nowadays never seems to be able to find its purchase against the smooth rock wall of indifference that stands ( ever-present ) between them. As though he can do no wrong - as though he hasn’t been trying.

Eren abruptly clears his throat before discreetly glancing at Mikasa from behind the thick curtain of hair falling over his face. It’s getting long. He should really cut it soon. But, ah ...

“... You’ve been eating,” he states, less like a question and more like an accusation, “-right ? I was just remembering .. when you first came to live with me and my family. You didn’t eat anything for days - Mom thought you were ‘gonna starve yourself.” It’s a cheap, underhanded tactic, but it works - is likely to work, anyways. Eren leans back in his seat, turning over a chunk of potato in his dish. He relaxes his words, feigning nonchalance / his levity tentatively genuine. “First thing we got you to choke down was some soup, just like this ... but, heh, you only agreed to because I said I wasn’t going to eat anything so long as you weren’t.” A strange twitch of his upper lip warns of a smile threatening a larger grin / something showing teeth. “I was real serious about it, too,” he adds. “Thought I could go weeks without food if I had to. If it’d make sure you came around, eventually.”

Maybe it’s selfish of him, to weaponize those particular memories against her / in an contrived effort to comfort. But it serves to make its point: he does worry about her, in his own strange fashion - in a way even he himself cannot recognize as totally altruistic in nature. Though he does not leave the anecdote unscathed, either; he can’t stop rubbing his wrists, can’t stop itching them with blunted fingernails, afraid of his newfound freedom ( after all, what would an animal born in captivity possibly know of a life meant to be lived without restraint ? ). Despite how obediently he chews and swallows, at some point the reward of her hard work turns to a mass of indistinguishable mush in his mouth / sticking to his tongue, the backs of his molars. This simple action, too, is made awkward - thanks in no small part to his social incompetence. His ears start ringing as a damming blush dusts their tips, perhaps in punishment of his childlike over-eagerness ( “I can show you how to make it sometime, if you want - Mom taught me how.” ).

Eren dips the spoon in again, holding it out carelessly - though his hand does not waver. He schools his features into something more serious / a replication of his boyish self, all those years ago, caught scowling across the dining room table by a girl who could not swallow the weight of that gaze / no more than she could the meal slipped in front of her, whose smell only sickened - which only reminded her of the home now lost to her. He remembers his mother scolding him, back then - reminding him to give her space, to let her grieve, to never expect anything more than she was capable of day-by-day, always at her own pace. But he’s never been a very patient person.

                            “ ... Eh ? How about it ?” He gestures again, tilting his head to one side, as though expectant. “Come on. Try some. For me ? I mean, I won’t have any more unless you take a bite ... Fair’s fair, and all that.”

non-verbal meme.

[girloikawa]

carry on youtuber au

baz starts out as a cover artist, occasionally posting his own songs (he does violin stuff too)

but eventually he gets recognition and people are like “who is this person?????” so baz does a few q&as

oh BUT THEN he reveals that he also has so many other interests (books, movies, planting, coffee, Controversal Topics) that people want him to do other types of videos

and that is what starts baz on the long road of his channel basically being an everything bagel where he does a bit of everything and people find it very chill

agatha and baz become friends over their mutual love of gossip in the community (as long as they’re not apart of it)

(because baz and agatha and simon and penny aren’t problematic)

which brings me to agatha, she’s one of those channels that keep everyone updated on the drama and the shitty stuff that happens on YouTube as long as regular media

very opinionated, this gal is, so she shares her opinion on...everything

though, sometimes she’ll do a q&a and do her makeup and talk about fashion or what she’s into at the moment

she’s basically angelika oles

penny’s a booktuber!!!

she mostly reads and reviews fantasy books, as they are her favorite, but she’ll also do those videos where it’s like “i just read a shitty wattpad romance story, let me rant” or “my top ten favorite ya pairings” or “tier ranking every harry potter character because life has no meaning”

now, simon, the babe, he’s (and you cannot fight me on this) basically jenna marbles

his videos are so random and spurratic, he doesn’t even plan what his next video is, and he’s the youtuber

i would also like to point out that simon probably totally has adhd and would talk about it and his experience with it

his most popular videos are of him baking. he’s like (and hear me out) very good and very bad at it. like, all throughout the videos, everybody’s holding their breath’s like “oh no this is going to turn out terribly” because simon being in the kitchen is like a horse babysitting a dog, it’s a mess, however the end product is always perfect and amazing and by the end everybody’s drooling behind their screens

simon is also widely conceived as the weirdest straight guy ever. like people (from just looking at him) think he’s just So Striaght but a very Cool Straight Guy who people wouldn’t actually mind being around

simon has the most subscribers (the majority being that they find him funny and see him as a friend, the minority being people who think he’s Hot As Hell and okay yeah he’s a good person too but have you seen those freckles-)

then it’s baz because he actually started first and his following has been a journey, then agatha (she’s the newest, and her subscriber rate is growing rapidly), then penny (booktube is a small community sad face)

penny n simon are irl best friends and penny was the one who convinced simon to make a channel bc he needed something to help let out his energy, “plus it’s a little fun hobby”

snowbaz now :)

simon has followed baz from pretty much the beginning. he saw his cringy covers, his development as a songwriter, and the walls built around baz crumble over the camera

baz...well, he’s one of those people who think simon is Hot As Hell, but he also genuinely enjoys the videos. at first, baz was like “I’m not watching him, everybody watches him, and I’m different” so he always avoided the recommendations youtube gave him of simon’s videos (but it was also bc he didn’t want to confront that he was very attracted to simon)

and then, one fateful night, agatha sent baz a link to a video called “coming out” and under the link she wrote “youtube angel!”—that’s their nickname for simon—“shocking the world!”

baz click click clicked because hot guy is lgbt+????? and baz watched the video, commenting “proud of you” or something along those lines, and then he watched so, so many more of simon’s videos

simon, a boy who just came out as bisexual, just had his youtube hero comment on his video where he came out and is like !!!!!!

simon’s sexual awakening is baz

also, simon breaks the internet with that video, because he isn’t striaght and that’s so mind-boggling to everybody. but there’s always that one group of people who are like “i saw this coming. do you not remember that one time simon showed his socks and his jeans were cuffed-”

simon replies to baz’s comment and is like “oh my god thank you so much. you’re like my actual favorite youtuber” like a fucking Nut and people see that and say “omg collab” because they’re both relatively high status youtubers and their collab would be Powerful

then, summoning all his courage, simon dms baz on instagram with just a simple “hey, a lot of people are saying we should collab lmao”

“i’ve seen that” “heh uhm yeah” “maybe we could get to know each other and see if that would be a good idea” “yes! i’d love that”

and they do. they get really close and stuff,, but people don’t exactly...see that

you see, on twitter, they get in millions of arguments. people genuinely think that they hate each other to some extent, when in reality, they’re swooning at the sight of the three dot bubble

baz, on twitter: “you cannot tell me that people actually enjoy sparkling water. it’s trash, move on” (they had an argument over it, privately, and baz is making it public to cause a rise out of simon bc he finds angry simon cute)

simon, in response: “yo I’m throwing you in the trash as we speak. fuhhhck u”

so, when they collab for the first time, everybody at home is just like *shocked pikachu emoji* they end up doing a video where simon bakes baz’s mom’s recipe of cherry scones with baz. it’s kind of a big deal bc both simon and baz don’t want to ruin baz’s memory of his mother

in the end, baz tears up and gives si a big ass hug because they’re perfect, simon. i love them, thank you. the fans start shipping. hard. it’s simon’s highest viewed video

that surprise hug is also what makes simon realize that his feelings are much deeper than attraction and surface level forms of knowing someone

on baz’s channel, they were going to film a video where they talked about their experiences being queer, but then simon realized that his biggest, most prominent example was staring at baz’s jawline, so he had to be like “uhhh, actually, I’m not really comfortable with that yet” which is part true. instead, they do a video where they have argumentative discussions, like on twitter but in depth and with less insults

anyways, they receive pretty positive feedback on the videos, people enjoy them, so they decide to do more. also, they both live in LA, so it’s actually pretty easy to do them, plus they have a diverse area to do them in

also, i think it’d be nice to mention that simon will sometimes do twitch streams of him playing minecraft and then he puts edited versions on his channel. it’s worth mentioning because during this one stream, he ends up slipping up and saying “we talk a lot, actually. and i—i like him a lot” about baz, then he blushes like hell because i really just said that and it’s live oh god

all the while, baz and simon actually just start hanging out (without hiding behind wanting to do a video). one meet-up, they go to disney world and halfway through baz is like “uh, should we be filming this?” and simon gives him a smile and replies, “no” because that moment is for them and them only + the fans who see them together and ask for a picture/just take pictures of them being like a couple

their next collab is a bit of a fun one. behind the scenes, pen, ag, si, and baz all become friends, because of that one time baz came over while penny was there and he barely payed attention to simon, too busy talking to penny. anyways, they do a big four person collab where agatha basically teaches them how to do makeup

on penny’s channel, it’s book related. they have to do a look based on the synopsis’ of each other’s favorite books. baz gets simon, simon gets agatha, agatha gets penny, penny gets baz. baz: “snow, you’re holding it wrong. it’s like this” simon: *stares longingly at the brush that gets to touch baz’s face*

on agatha’s, the video is just titled Teaching My Friends To Do Makeup (ft. idiots who test my patience). they all suck. majorly. well, by all, i mean simon and penny suck at makeup

on baz’s, they do a trivia of sorts. if they get a question wrong, they have to skip a product. simon: “oh thank god less work” agatha, deadpanning: “i think i might kill him”

on simon’s, they have agatha and penny go against simon and agatha. si and pen being the ones who have to actually do makeup because, according to agatha, “since you decided to bitch so much, you guys are doing our makeup” “but-!” “nope, I’m Peak Brains of us all so I call the shots” “you’re not even-” “shut up” Everybody (and by everybody i mean the fans) is actually glad that they got to see simon doing baz’s makeup, because it’s literally them just being so flustered the whole time

the collab stuns everybody bc: “they’re all friends??????” plus, some people start calling them the Four Fucks because at one point penny says “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and most importantly, fuck me” after simon flinged a bunch of eyeshadow on her

okay so agatha and penny are just like: “these idiots need to get together already” because it’s very obvious that they like each other. like the eiffel tower in paris, you can’t miss it. everyone watching the videos also sees it, so you can imagine the comments

during one of si’s live-streams (he’s playing the hunger games minigame on minecraft), the chat goes wild because baz pops in. he plans on surprising simon with a picnic (he just thought that they could go into simon’s backyard or the park that’s a few miles away), but it was pretty spur of the moment so he didn’t think about simon doing a stream. and to be honest, simon’s stream was also spur of the moment, so it’s not like he made sure to tell baz about it

“simon! hey, i let myself in!” baz called from the front doorway. the chat is freaking because: “is that baz???” “omg baz has a key to simon’s house!!” “are they dating???” simon kind of just freezes up and starts sputtering as he reads the chat and tries to reply to baz

of course, baz doesn’t understand that simon doesn’t want baz to go into his office/room with his computer, so he does go in and as soon as he sees the livestream he’s like: “oh, uh, I’ll go” and simon unfreezes and goes “no, no, stay, I’ll just be a bit” “do you want me to...leave the room?” “you can watch if you want” (baz wants) “okay, sure” so simon pretty much shows baz how to play minecraft

i never finished this, do i?

[dishwater-blondie]

On Gabenath and the Fandom Divide

So this is gonna be a little different. 

You know, I wonder if fandom culture is a lot like literature, in which there is no single right way to engage with it, but there are certainly a few wrong ways.

I have been active in very few fandoms throughout my life, and I would even say that when it comes to ML and Gabenath, I confine myself to a very small and specific corner. I am very shy. I get easily overwhelmed. All I am here to do is write some fan fiction and hopefully find folks who enjoy it. Being reclusive has meant that I haven’t engaged much with a lot of other fans, and certainly not with very many early Gabenath shippers. 

My lack of experience with fandom culture is something I partially regret, because I have built up resentment for this particular section of the Gabenath fan base and have been led to draw conclusions about their views on certain characters and relationships; however, many of them have done the same to newer fans like myself, failing to acknowledge our understandings, our intentions, and our reasons for enjoying Gabenath in the first place. 

Anyone who follows this blog knows where I come from. I’m a young woman who likes to take this silly show very seriously sometimes, but there’s an element of good fun that comes with looking very deeply into things, don’t you think? I would find myself awfully bored if I consumed all content passively, casually, if I let it wash over me and never tried to analyze why I’m finding myself so intrigued. I like to get to the bottom of things. Maybe that’s in my nature as a writer. 

I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. After all, Gabenath shippers take up a pretty humble space in the ML fandom as a whole, especially those who are not as invested in the lovesquare as the majority of watchers are. There will always be those who don’t believe Gabriel or Nathalie deserve the possibility of a happy ending, and those who would like to see it, but cannot envision the show taking the necessary steps to get there. Regardless, anyone who has taken the time to read my analysis posts can see that I don’t pull any of this out of nowhere. I delve into the details the show itself has provided, and I reach my own conclusions. I don’t believe that any “serious” post I’ve made has been baseless. 

That is what’s so frustrating about the divide between older fans of the ship and newer ones. Early Gabenath fans of Season 1 and early Season 2 had a blank slate to work with in developing the dynamic between Nathalie and Gabriel. The newer ones that have flooded in post-Season 2, like myself, are doing so in reaction to the actual events of the show, the established and ongoing portrayal of a relationship that is only continuing to evolve. I have witnessed and attempted to engage in situations between older and newer fans where the older fans have dismissed developments of the most recent episodes in favor of the early characterizations of the first season. 

To pause, I don’t want to generalize here. Not all early Gabenath shippers are like this, of course, just like not all newer fans are like me. We are all coming from different places and enjoying this ship from different angles. There’s nothing wrong with that. 

But it confuses me. I’ve now been made aware of multiple occasions where older fans have shut down some of the newer beliefs that have arisen in the fandom as of late, such as the notion that (and I flinch to speak so controversially) Gabriel could get a redemption and Emilie may come out of all of this being the villain in the end. There’s nothing at all inherently wrong with not wanting or anticipating this to be the outcome. We’re all here for fun. Watch and think the way you choose. But when it comes to engaging with fans who have, like myself, presented actual evidence supporting our own interpretations, I find it insulting to be told that the playful terms “pull the plug” or “Fuck Emilie Juice” are disrespectful, as if they encompass my assessments, as if I have ever genuinely hated this character.

First, I must ask, what character? Emilie, as of now, is a plot device. A symbol at best. She’s spoken not one word. But second, it is awfully unfair and patronizing to assume that newer fans who think of Emilie as a villain or hope for a Gabriel redemption are engaging with these concepts mindlessly. From what I’ve seen, dismissals of conversations about the possibility of redemption, the stakes of the Gabenath relationship, or wouldn’t-it-be-cool-if-Emilie-was-at-the-heart-of-this-agenda have been presumptuous rejections of newer fandom ideas, and by extension, the people who have introduced and explored them, particularly because they haven’t been given the time of day. 

It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? We sure do like to criticize this show for being so stagnant. Yet, in the space of just three seasons, this considerable divide has formed between the older and newer Gabenath shippers. The lovesquare drama has always been the same, for the most part. Fans argue about which of the square’s dynamics is best, argue about how Luka and Kagami fit into this, but until there is any game-changing development, I can’t imagine that there will be this particular brand of divisiveness, between early fans who prefer the first season and the newer ones who emerged once things started to get complicated.

What matters is the way we engage with each other. I don’t intend to imply that either type of fan is better. Newer shippers are not all perfect either. Due to the events of Season 3, I think some of us have a morbid fascination with Nathalie’s suffering and insist on putting her through the worst situations possible. I admit to being guilty of this, and I aim to tackle these issues with as much grace and tact as I can. I don’t want my writing to exist for the purpose of shock value.

But I digress - my point here is not that I’m going to demand people agree with my personal impressions of these characters or relationships, but rather that when we do in fact disagree, we at least can reach a full understanding of where other shippers are coming from. Early fans have conceived their own versions of Gabenath, being given total liberty by the lack information we were provided in the earlier seasons, and these are perfectly valid. They’re entertaining. They’re fun to look back on and play around with now. But I’ve witnessed the opinions of newer fans being looked down upon as if they were senseless examples of character hate, when in reality they are grounded in the evolution of the narrative and speculation on its thematic objectives. From the way I’ve experienced things, this isn’t being acknowledged, and I want to see that change. 

This may have all come out of no where. I’m fortunate enough to have never been directly shut down, and that’s purely thanks to my reserved nature. But it hurts to see newer fans, my friends feel unwelcome in the fandom when they just got here. When they have so much to offer. When all they wanted was to create and have fun and establish themselves. 

So, yeah, this is my Fuck Emilie tirade, ‘Fuck Emilie’, of course, referring to my want for my friends to express these meta topics in either an analytical or comical manner without having to worry about the preceding trends, without having to feel spurned by other fans who haven’t even tried to bridge the gap. Sorry, Emilie, girl. It ain’t personal. 

And hey, if I’m wrong about Gabenath, if I’m wrong about Emilie, and redemption, and the show in its entirety, then I’ll eat my words. And it won’t matter, because this is a sparkly TV show for children and everything I have said on it in the past has been in the spirit of enjoying it. 

Raise your glass. 

[beatrix-wright]

‘JOKER’ drove at 100 kilometres per hour in peak traffic while I was tied to the passenger’s seat

This will have spoilers for Joker in it, but I will not synopsise the film. Most of this will be about my experience watching Joker rather than the story of the film itself. I greatly appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this.

Joker, directed by Todd Phillips, starring Joaquin Phoenix, wasn’t what I expected…

That’s both good and bad. I have praise, undoubtedly. I don’t think it was a bad film by any means, but I also want to say up front that I don’t think I’m ever going to watch it again. At least not for a very long time.

I have seen a number of Todd Phillips’ films, through many unhappy mistakes. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting much of the cinematography, but really, Phillips knocked it out of the park in some sections. The movie has high and low parts in this category, but overall, regardless of what was happening on screen, Phillips has tried his best to make it as visually appealing as possible. Certain shots, zooms and camera movements perfectly encapsulated the emotion of the scene or of the characters and it really helped immerse viewers. This film unquestionably has a beating, feeling-driven heart. Although its a weak pulse that many would miss if not invested, it’s there, trying desperately to claw its way out from under the vicious and cool exterior that the film puts up. If Phillips and Scott Silver, the other writer on board the project, had the poise to take the film that direction, I truly believe that it could have been a meaningful, heartfelt tragedy. But we’ll get to that later.

Something else many people have applauded in Joker is Joaquin Phoenix’s performance, and they’re right. Phoenix, while not the first to play Batman’s most iconic villain by any stretch of the imagination, has made it his own in a way that works for the tone and message of the film. Joaquin Phoenix’s passion for this project comes through so clearly in his portrayal of Arthur Fleck/Joker. There’s a humanity and empathy that Phoenix manages to build in the beginning of the film that is missing from most portrayals where the Joker is only a raving lunatic. The only time I’ve seen anything similar for the character is in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, which was an inspiration for the film, but even that isn’t quite as authentic as the show given to us in Joker. The heart that Phillips emphasises wouldn’t be present without Phoenix. Joaquin Phoenix really was the best part of this film and I cannot commend him enough for the tastefulness he tried to bring to the project. His portrayal of Arthur Fleck’s mental illness is really nothing to be sneezed at, which brings me to my next point.

Joker has an almost truthful, although greatly exaggerated, portrayal of mental illness, something that surprised me while watching in the theatre. I have personally dealt with depression and anxiety and found many aspects of Arthur Fleck in the beginning to be somewhat relatable. Truly, this exploration of mental illness wasn’t something I’d seen before. While Fleck’s diagnosis is not not disclosed, simple sentiments such as “I just don’t want to feel so bad anymore” really hit home and yet again Phoenix’s delivery helped to bring genuineness that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. Many other minor things that I don’t have the time to go through really sold me on the character and the performance, and Arthur Fleck truly came alive for me and the others in the cinema. The film also establishes Fleck’s laugh as a signal for when he’s feeling depressed, lonely, anxious or anything of the like and it helps to guide the viewer through the confusing reality of mental illness. Laughter, too, helps myself and many others cope with our mental illness. I find it hard to be frank about how I’m feeling without turning it into a joke of some sort. It was odd watching a film about a well-known villain and sharing a number of experiences with him, knowing of his sheer insanity from other forums. But this was what really made the first section of this film so compelling.

My praise for Joker stops here, however.

Joker has been described as “dangerous”, but I don’t think dangerous is the correct description. Joker, in the best way I can possibly put it concisely, is ill-conceived, tactless and lacking awareness. It’s a bit like driving recklessly through peak hour traffic. For some people it might be enjoyable but to many, it is generally considered poorly thought out and foolish. And oh boy, oh boy, does Joker take you for a ride. For a film that initially seemed to somewhat understand mental illness, it falls flat on its face as it proceeds to blame Arthur Fleck’s mental health problems for his violence. This isn’t to say that some people who have mental illnesses can’t be a danger to others and themselves but the sheer standardness of Fleck’s symptoms at the beginning compared to his shocking acts of cruelty later left a bad taste in my mouth and I found myself thinking ‘I’m not a time bomb’ over and over at certain sections of the film. Stigma against people with mental illnesses permeates the story and I don’t think even Joaquin Phoenix, for all of his ingenuity in playing this character, could escape the demonisation of this group of people.

I’ve seen Joker interpreted as a “cautionary tale” about how “society’s ignorance of those who are less fortunate will create a person like the Joker”, but if it really wanted to be that, Todd Phillips and Scott Silver have missed the mark by a longshot. The message ends up garbled, and comes through more strongly as ‘If we, as a society, don’t watch out for mentally ill people, we may have a real life Joker on our hands’. Despite acting like someone who thinks he knows what’s best for society, Todd Phillips can hardly bring his message about it across properly in his own film. Most of us with mental illnesses aren’t going to suddenly snap and go on a killing spree, but Joker supports the opposite and isn’t particularly concerned for the damage it might bring to mentally ill people.

Like I said, I enjoyed the accuracy of Arthur Fleck’s mental illness but the rest of the film misses something that the beginning had: taste. I support the pushing of boundaries in film. I think it is very important to test the limit and explore new concepts and ideas no matter what. But it needs to be done well, and Phillips, who doesn’t have much experience with serious and poignant cinema needs to steady his aim before firing off a film like this. Many may decry me as a softy who can’t handle serious, disturbing or confronting films, but that is simply not the case. I just propose that if you’re going to be all that, you might as well do it properly. One such confronting film is Blue Velvet (1986, dir. David Lynch) which handles a variety of heavy topics. Lynch, in contrast to Phillips, however, wove his story delicately, creating a tasteful and seriously disturbing film that is still considered one of the greatest of all time to this day. When I got into the first act, I was deeply hoping that Joker would be something like that. It held so much promise and I genuinely think the beginning is magnificent as well as certain sections throughout. Again, this isn’t a bad film at all. I just believe it mishandled some of its ideas in a way that could be potentially damaging.

Something else I find to be an issue is the view of the Joker as a hero by real people. Arthur Fleck’s drive is largely based around his mistreatment. I personally really love complex villain who have relatable incentives, but the difference is that the Joker as a character is already idolised by a number of less-than-brilliant groups. The Joker has sympathetic motivations and while he absolutely turns into a villain he’s still framed as somewhat correct in these views which turns into a larger problem when narcissists who feel they are down on their luck identify with the Joker and use their misfortune to justify terrible actions against others. While for Fleck, it’s his poverty and mental illness, for some real people it can be something like not getting a girlfriend or having people of colour “invade their country”. To most people who watch Joker, it could seem absurd how this film would encourage violence but as someone who could relate to Arthur Fleck initially, I can easily see how someone with something more wrong with them than just mental illness could identify with him throughout the film. Because it isn’t just mental illness that creates mass murderers and serial killers. Its something far more deep-seated and vile. An ingrained dismissal for the value of human life. The pit that Joker needed to dig itself out of was that of misanthropic reddit pages and 4chan posts. It would have been hard, but frankly the film did itself no favours in having a nod to “we live in a society” memes during the Joker’s monologue towards the end. I don’t think that all of this was intentional and honestly, if you’re a normal person, have no fear of being radicalised. I just don’t know if Phillips completely comprehends what he’s toying with. There was a shooting by someone inspired by the Joker in 2012 at a screening of The Dark Knight Rises. These things occur, unfortunately, and even though if something were to happen now, in no way would it be the film’s fault, we do have to be careful what sort of an impression we can leave on people with our media.

Joker isn’t a bad movie. Is it everything it’s made out to be? No, and really that comes down a lack of precision in its creation. I really can’t watch it again, due to how monstrous it made me feel but I won’t disavow anyone who wants to go see it or enjoyed it for the right reasons, because there is a lot to enjoy if you’re not bothered by those aspects of the film. It was a really interesting character study of one comics’ most mysterious and iconic characters, but I believe the message they wanted to send about said character was poorly handled. Personally, I think I’ll stick to Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke. I’d rather the Joker’s origins be a bit more multiple choice.

Also if Joaquin Phoenix is nominated for or wins an Oscar, I won’t be mad, he really was pretty great

[daxthinksnot]

Meet my character, Lucius! Here’s his info:

L U C I U S

The Eyes and Ears of Hell // Bartender

“If you’re going to slaughter each other, do it outside.”  

◣◥▔▔▔▔▔✚▔▔▔▔▔◤◢

𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

1/ ⌈𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡⌋                    4/  ⌈𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 ⌋

2/ ⌈𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮⌋               5/ ⌈𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨⌋

3/ ⌈𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮⌋                6/ ⌈𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖⌋

◤◢ ▁▁▁▁▁✚▁▁▁▁▁◣◥

⌈𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡⌋

►Theme:

Mighty Sam McClain - When The Hurt Is Over

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4YPMiFaPWo

►Name:

Lucius Kirell

►Gender:

Male

►Sexuality:

Straight

►Age:

5129 (Appears to be in his early 50s)

►Race

High Imp Variant (Hell-born)

►Alignment

True Neutral (was chaotic neutral in his early days)

►Height

191cm (6'3")

►Body Type

Muscular

►Blood Type

AB

►Location

Afterlife Bar

Not much is known about the infamous Lucius; the bartender at Afterlife, the bar which he owns. Often described possessing rapier wit and eyes that would make even a succubus shudder, the man usually keeps to himself; well, at least on the outside. In reality, Lucius is a major player in the black market information industry and unlike most, he knows what he’s talking about.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮⌋

►Sarcastic

►Humorous

►Witty

►Tricky

►Dangerous

►Fatherly

►Cool and Calm

►Narcissistic

►Malicious

►Loveless

►Melancholy

Over his decently long life, Lucius has come to the conclusion that everyone just needs to calm down. Whilst he finds himself in quite the stressful environment for a man of his age; that of information broking, he is quite the calm and level headed man and this has actually made him quite famously trustworthy. He keeps his secrets and seems to know everything about everyone; perhaps this is why he’s never paranoid. He treats all of his employees with respect and like his children, though this is likely because of what had happened to his old family. He is by far not the most powerful of demons, but he is without a doubt one of the smartest. He possesses the uncanny ability to manipulate almost anyone.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮⌋

Lucius, unlike most Imps, isn’t cocky in his trickery, and such a trait made him a careful and successful child thief. He grew up amongst the poorest of the poor and found coin in the art of thievery; both in physical items and knowledge. He never knew his father, but had a very close relationship with his mother and siblings and learnt quick the value of family.

As he aged he joined countless gangs and cartels but found himself feeling out of place or even bored at times. He started to become more and more neutral until he decided to form his own group of information brokers called “POMP”; derived from the Psychopomp creatures which neutrally guided humans through the afterlife. After the creation of this small group, he started to build his infamy and after 500 long years, he became well known for his knowledge. At this stage in his life, he began to become cocky with his position and sought out fame and power over everything else. He truly was a vile man, but he was dependable and got results, and that’s what counted. Somehow during this time, he managed to catch the eye of a Fae called Tittelle; a beautiful kind woman who fell deeply in love with him. He too loved her and she in return gifted him twin daughters, but it seemed that his love for power far outlived that of his family. One dangerous exchange of words occurred deep into a dreadful summers night, where Lucius found himself bewitched by the idea of indefinite allegiance. He sold out his closest ally; a powerful demon mage, and in exchange gained the favour of the second most powerful demon of hell at the time. But this betrayal cut deeper than expected for his lost ally, and that mage sought revenge in the most primal sense. That very night the mage took Lucius’s family; tortured, Raped and killed them. He gifted their torn bodies on pikes at his doorstep the morning after. Even now that scene haunts him, and truly he cannot conceive of the notion of love again. He saw what his gluttony had wrought and from that day onward he became a neutral melancholy existence.

Several hundred years later he decided to open up his bar Afterlife, as a way to settle down and ground himself, as well as creating a headquarters for POMP. Whilst he is quite a powerful man, he restricts himself and refuses to dive in too deep as he doesn’t want to risk anyone ever again. He is perhaps too overprotective of his employees, but in some ways that add to his charm.

If his information business ever fails, at least he has his bar— which is the most popular bar in all of Abaddon.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝘼𝙩𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙨 ⌋

►C H A R A C T E R

Charisma

■■■■■■■■■■

Kindness

■■■■■□□□□□

Temper

■■■□□□□□□□

Integrity

■■■□□□□□□□

Courage

■■■■■■■■□□

Humor

■■■■■■■■■□

► B A T T L E

Attack

■■■■■■■■□□

Defence

■■■■■■■□□□

Magic

■■■■■■■□□□

Resistance

■■■■■□□□□□

Speed

■■■■■□□□□□

Stamina

■■■■□□□□□□

► T R A I T S

Boredom

■■■■■□□□□□

Confidence

■■■■■■■■■□

Intelligence

■■■■■■■■■■

Manners

■■■■□□□□□□

Optimism

■■□□□□□□□□

Luck

■■■■■■■■□□

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙍𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨⌋

►To his employees:

Lucius is without a doubt a fatherly figure to his employees. Due to his old age, he is seen as a beacon of wisdom and wit, though some do see him as a little dusty. Others somewhat worship him as to live to his age is rather impressive; especially in hell of all places. He is well respected and deeply cared for— even if he doesn’t know it.

►To clients:

Lucius is a genuinely terrifying guy. Clients often communicate to him through middlemen; that is unless they are more powerful, as with long age comes power. Whilst Lucius is a good host and a chill guy, to new clients it’s like staring into the eyes of a dragon of rage.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

⌈𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙖⌋

►Lucius hates anything sweet. He cannot stomach sugar at all to the point where simply being around sweet things makes him want to be sick. This likely has to do with an incident 2000 years ago when under some odd circumstances he had to partake in a cake eating contest. He won, but he was forever changed.

►Hidden under Lucius’s bed is a hand made teddy bear his eldest sister made for him when he was little. It is his most prized possession.

►One time Lucius managed to talk himself out of being slain by convincing his attacker that killing him would be a crime as he is too attractive to die. He proved his point by stripping— it worked.

►Lucius’s favourite food is grilled steak and mash potatoes.

◣◥━━━━ ✚ ━━━━◣◥

[qqueenofhades]

Historical People of Color in Europe (and America): “It’s Not Historically Accurate!!” and Other Nonsense

Right, so. Rather than hijacking the Black Victorians post with a lengthy addition, I decided to make a separate one to talk about something I have wanted to have a good rant on, especially given the current state of racial rhetoric, concerns about whitewashing and the representation of non-white folks in a fictional (particularly fictional historical and/or fictional historical-fantasy) setting, and all the other time-worn “I’m Not A Racist (tm) But There Weren’t Any People of Color In [Insert Your Setting of Choice Here]” arguments that appear.

If you would like to save yourself some time and get on with your day, spoiler alert: It’s bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit, and moreover, these arguments are made for a specific political reason. Narratives of past “nonexistence” are always used to try to justify present repression (or rather, these arguments represent a thinly-veiled desire for an imagined time when racial and ethnic diversity presumably did not exist, or that said racial and ethnic diversity was acceptable to discriminate against without consequences, or that a monolithic “white default” population was the only existing paradigm). Claims of a past “white Europe” (which is supposed to be superior to multicultural Europe) are always, ALWAYS right-wing, nationalist, and racially charged. The underlying assumption is that multiculturalism is modern liberal PC rubbish, that people of color are the “invaders” disrupting an imagined timeless “Aryan” ideal, and that somehow, much like gay people, they only started to exist in the 20th century when the establishment admitted they did.

(Let me just put right at the top here that the Nazi project of applied racial and religious genocide was thoroughly based in the work of the American eugenics movement, and that Hitler wrote a fan letter to one of its creators.)

You may have heard of the recent kerfuffle when Mary Beard, professor of classics at Cambridge University, endorsed a cartoon depicting a multi-racial Roman family with a black father as accurate to the diversity of Roman Britain. The alt-right trolls went all in with their determination to prove that Roman Britain (and the Roman empire in general) was white, which, if you know anything about the borders and demographics of ancient Rome at all, was completely ludicrous. (Many of the trolls freely admitted to never having studied a damn thing about actual history, but they were still convinced they knew more than, you know, a distinguished professor at Cambridge.) But as Beard pointed out in a response to her critics, this reflects the fact that any claim to historical diversity (or more specifically, the purported lack thereof) has become the realm of people who are insistent on their interpretation, don’t care about facts, and are using them for a specific and damaging political project.

So.

Let’s make some racists angry, shall we?

The idea of “Europe against the barbarians” as a political project goes back at least to the crusades and their inception in 1095, but it was conceived in its quasi-modern form by the Duke of Sully, minister to Henry IV of France, in the seventeenth century, as the “Grand Design.” It proposed keeping the peace in fractious Europe by fighting the “infidels” -- the same argument that had often been used to justify the crusades. (For a very good discussion on all this, see Anouar Majid, Freedom and Orthodoxy: Islam and Difference in the Post-Andalusian Age, esp. page 211-13.) The crusades remained a potent metaphor throughout all of Europe long after their official “end” in 1291, and were used to justify racial, colonial, and imperial projects of all kinds. Sir Winston Churchill praised the wisdom of the Grand Design in a 1948 post-war speech for the reunification of Europe -- i.e., this racial violence was exactly how they intended to move Europe forward into the modern age after so destructively fighting each other, by giving it back its old enemies. I have literally written a master’s thesis on the post-1291 intellectual and legal inheritance of the crusades and the racial construction of the Euro-American historical narrative, so I could go on for a long time here, but this is the takeaway point: the academic (and elite) practice of history, especially Western history, has always been used to justify the erasure, destruction, elimination, and removal of agency from non-white individuals and civilizations alike. So even if you’re claiming “history” as a legitimating tool for your racial fantasia of lily-white Europe, this history is an intentional and actively tailored instrument of racial prejudice that does not reflect reality.

Now that the theoretical stuff is over, let’s get into specifics.

Medieval Spain (Iberia) and medieval Sicily in particular were richly diverse societies that supported numerous distinct racial, religious, and ethnic groups, including Jews, Muslims, Greek/Eastern Christians, Latin/Western Christians, Normans, Africans, and other communities from around the Mediterranean.  I have linked only a quick/initial source for each, but there is tons out there. These communities had episodes of strife and tension, of course, but also lived together for extended periods of time in essential cooperation. Spain in particular produced an incredibly rich intellectual climate in the early medieval era, such as the golden age of Toledo.

While the crusades were a project of warfare against non-Christian, non-Europeans (and sometimes also against Europeans, such as the Albigensian and Northern Crusades), they were also the first time many of the Northern European crusaders had met Arab Muslims and Africans -- encounters which were not always uniformly hostile, and which were shaped by recognizable diplomatic customs. One of my favorite examples is in the Itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis Ricardi, a Latin prose narrative of the Third Crusade otherwise hostile to the Muslims. See especially pages 276-283 above, where the author cannot help but be impressed by the graciousness and generosity of Saladin and his Muslim forces hosting Christian visitors in Jerusalem (after a treaty was made to end the crusade) and which includes Saladin inviting Bishop Hubert Walter of Salisbury to dinner, where they have a long and friendly chat and are both impressed. My feelings on the genuine respect and admiration that existed between Saladin, his brother, and several of his generals, on the one hand, and Richard the Lionheart, on the other, are probably well-known. (See also Thomas Asbridge, Talking to the enemy: the role and purpose of negotiations between Saladin and Richard the Lionheart during the Third Crusade.)

Even after the crusades, Elizabethan England was deeply connected to the Islamic world and its empires: Ottoman, Persian, and Moroccan. Trade between them was frequent, so many Englishmen settled in Arabic Muslim societies that there were attempted royal proclamations and incentives to lure back expatriates (see Majid, 55), and a proposed Anglo-Moroccan alliance against Spain was a key feature of the foreign policy of the later years of Elizabeth I’s reign. (It should be noted that early modern England’s fairly friendly relationship with the Islamic world, so unlike Spain’s driving hatred of the Moors, had to be jettisoned as they moved into the realm of competing colonial conquests.) Abd el-Ouahed ben Massoud was the Moroccan ambassador to England during this time, and may have been part of the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Othello. “Cinthio’s Tale,” published in 1565, purported to tell the true story of a Muslim/Moorish captain serving in the Venetian army and deceived by a treacherous ensign, which was also drawn upon by Shakespeare.

The Golden Age of Piracy was strongly black, Indian, and Native American. Famous pirates like Blackbeard, Edward England, Samuel Bellamy, William Kidd, and others had up to one-third black/Native crews, who were treated equally (this was not universal among pirates, but attacking slave ships and disrupting the slave trade was one thing for which they were principally known). John Julian, the sixteen-year-old Mesquito Indian who was the pilot of the Whydah, a former slave ship captured by “Black Sam” Bellamy, was later one of the only two survivors of its wreck in 1717. Bellamy’s crew of 150 men had between 30-50 free blacks; Blackbeard’s crew was over half black; Edward England’s nearly 300-strong cohort had over 70 black men.

There were also mixed-race captains in the Royal Navy, such as John Perkins. In his long and vastly adventurous career, he commanded half a dozen ships of the line in at least four wars, served as a spy, and nearly got sentenced to death for smuggling weapons to revolting slaves. His obituary in 1812 records, “he annoyed the enemy more than any other officer, by his repeated feats of gallantry, and the immense number of prizes he took.” (See page 373 of the pdf.) By this time, there were a considerable number of free blacks in England, who had founded the learned abolitionist society known as the Sons of Africa. The late eighteenth century saw men like Ignatius Sancho, Olaudah Equiano, and Ottobah Cuguano. All of them were literate, accomplished men who wrote letters and memoirs, including passionate manifestos against slavery, corresponded with high society, were internationally best-selling authors, and, in Sancho’s case, is the first black man known to have voted in Britain (around 1780). There were also women like Dido Elizabeth Belle (great niece of William Mansfield, author of the deciding opinion in the landmark 1772 Somersett case against slavery and subject of the 2013 film starring Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and the American poet Phillis Wheatley. There were important figures in the American Revolution like Agrippa Hull, and political radicals like William Davidson, who was part of the “Cato Street Conspiracy” in 1820.

There was Alexander Crummell, the Episcopalian preacher, theologian, and African activist who graduated from Cambridge in the 1840s. How about you check out Black Oxford: The Untold Stories of Oxford University’s Black Scholars? Or Alain LeRoy Locke, the first African-American recipient of the Rhodes Scholarship in 1907, after it was founded in 1903 (something that would doubtless terribly annoy noted white supremacist Cecil Rhodes) and who also studied at Harvard University? Oh yeah, Locke was the intellectual father of the Harlem Renaissance and was also gay.) Speaking of biopics, about Victoria and Abdul, which tells the story of an aging Queen Victoria and her deep friendship with Abdul Karim or the “Munshi,” who taught her Urdu and Hindustani, and who, yes, faced incredible prejudice from the deeply starchy and racist British court?

We can definitely mention how a majority of cowboys were black or Native American (it was a grueling, dangerous, unforgiving job with low pay and no glamour, of course they made the people of color do it -- don’t believe everything the heroic, rugged-white-man-Americana John Wayne myth tells you). The inspiration for the Lone Ranger, Bass Reeves, was black. Ira Aldridge was a world-famous black Shakespearean actor and anti-slavery activist in the 19th century. I could go on, but this post is already long enough.

(Lastly: Read Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas In America, by Ibram X. Kendi, an award-winning young African-American historian and director of the Anti-Racist Research and Policy Center at American University.)

So yes. If you’re invoking “historical accuracy” for the convenient nonexistence of people of color in a historical/historical fantasy/fictional narrative:

a) You’re wrong.

b) You’re super wrong, please stop.

c) If you don’t stop, You Are A Racist. Time to work on that.

The point is: imagine, create, and write black/POC Roman centurions, medieval scholars, soldiers, pirates, Royal Navy captains, spies, political activists, best-selling authors, public intellectuals, famous actors, talented lawmen, etc, and write them existing in Europe and the Americas at pretty much any time you like. Not only will you make a racist mad, you will be hella historically accurate, can flip the bird with both fingers, and moonwalk out of the room. Remember: denying the existence or agency of historical people of color is always tied to a desire that they didn’t exist or have agency in the present, and that isn’t how things “used to be done,” ergo they must be wrong. This is the appeal of a certain kind of history as an imagined “legitimate space” for racism, misogyny, homophobia, etc, where these attitudes used to be accepted and promoted without challenge. The people who hold them now want those views to enjoy the same kind of hegemony. And if you’ve paid any attention to the world recently, you’ll realize how dangerous and pervasive those narratives are, and how badly they need to be challenged and upended.

[elliotbathory]

The End of the War

Part I: Introduction (An essay relating song lyrics to my mental health issues and addiction, written late 2017) Part II: Confrontation (A journal entry, written upon entering rehab) Part III: Resolution (A short story about ego death, written in rehab)

Part I: A Bigger Paper Bag

From Father John Misty’s album Pure Comedy. The album has had a deep impact on my life and I have an emotional connection with each individual song. Some view the artist as a contrived, self-absorbed, false prophet. I think he knows exactly who is and what he is trying to do. Pure Comedy touches me in a way that no other album since The Who’s Quadrophenia has. I identified with the protagonist, Jimmy, for many years. His depression, his recklessness, his desperate desire to ‘get out [his] head’. Father John Misty has created a sonic place in which I can rest with my deep despair about the state of the world. Dark, clever, occasionally very witty, and of course, real. What follows is an exploration into the many ways in which I, including my inner Jimmy, relate to 'A Bigger Paper Bag’.

“Dance like a butterfly and drink like a fish

If you’re bent on taking demons down with only your fist

And I’ve never known anyone who could lose himself in a bigger paper bag”

I am an Aries. I have a fighting spirit. Demons have plagued me for almost my whole life. The first, that of isolation and inability to communicate. The blockage in my head between thought and expression. The second, the very real and intolerably cruel voice of my mother, which informed the third: the person I became after I left the suffocating suburban reality that Jimmy and I both tried so hard to escape.

He said “My mother got drunk on stout, my dad couldn’t stand on two feet.” And yet when they found out he was using uppers, they kicked him out of the house. Desperate to escape himself, he turned to drugs and wild partying. At the age of fifteen I was so desperate to take speed I used to take 8 pseudoephedrine pills at a time and lay in bed for hours shaking with my forehead pressed to the wall. I was nowhere near cool enough to know anyone who could get drugs.

My mother also drank too much. But then, that was not the trigger for the abuse. It only amplified it. So, to “taking demons down with only your fists.” I’ve used almost every other drug over the years, some quite a lot. But my main crutch has always been alcohol, because as I discovered when I was sixteen, it made me feel normal. It taught me to communicate verbally rather than through writing. I am still not convinced that I can socialise without it.

Naturally, it does not end there. Demons have no courtesy. I’ve been drunk for a very large portion of the last four years. It makes things better, until it makes things worse. It in and of itself becomes a demon. You go from longnecks in the park, to two cheap bottles of red, to finding yourself inside a paper bag, the enormity of which you cannot know. There is endless supply in there.

And as for dancing, well, after a (a lot more than), a few gin and tonics, blue under the light, I used to be quite enchanting on stage.

“The weaker the signal, the sweeter the noise

Hunching over an instrument that you now employ

Like the Starvation Army needs a marching piano in the band”

You can tune those demons out, to an extent. The riot of blood rushing through your head after you huff amyl, their complete, albeit temporary erasure when I used to get lost inside 77 on pills, drunkenness and dancing and revelry and other sounds. Britpop, for example. I no longer know if I identify as a hedonist. What I truly was was an escapist. Not an escape artist, however. My attempts to scale the barbed wire fence of my mind and never look back were always cut short.

You come down. Then you wait until you know you can go back up again. Then you do. My partner gets cranky when I try to go out these days and can’t get into it. I am no longer starving for the things I have in life now, like love, understanding, and happiness. Those situations usually now just remind me of how I tried and failed to find happiness in shallow overcompensations. I always wanted to be fun and cool. I’m not.

“Are you feeling used?

I do”

Yes but let’s not get into that. I used myself and I am ashamed.

“Oh, I was pissing on the flame

Like a child with cash or a king on cocaine

I’ve got the world by the balls

Am I supposed to behave?”

For a few years the diagnoisis that suited me best was bipolar II. Soaring highs, or more commonly, crushing lows. There were times when I was on acid or mushrooms in huge crowds and genuinely felt that the entire situation had been constructed specifically for my friends’ and my enjoyment. Eventually, of course, I fell from that specific hallucinogenic throne in a spectacularly violent fashion and developed actue psychosis.

“What a fraud

What a con”

My specific breed of psychosis was as narcissistic as it was unbearable. I was convinced that everyone in the world knew who I was, and everyone hated me. Because how dare I pretend so long to be happy, to be fun, to be a legitimate person worthy of enjoying life. Jimmy also felt as though he was not truly cool enough to be a mod, and was eventually rejected and ridiculed, confirming his self belief. The film adaptation ends with a long shot of him riding his vespa along the sea cliffs.

I believed there was a global conspiracy against me and its end goal was my suicide. I heard passers by spitting insults at me for months on end. I wonder where I got the idea that anyone would do that?

“You’re the only

One I love”

I didn’t used to believe it was enough to love one person romantically. Or rather, I didn’t feel validated enough by the love of one person. I was suffering a massive defecit of love. I don’t hate myself so much anymore. So now self love has been added, it’s notso much a matter of begging others to throw endless amounts of love into the chasm of my starving soul, but rather being able to participate in the life long work of love.

“It’s easy to assume that you’ve built some rapport

With a someone who only likes you for what you like yourself for

Okay, you be my mirror but remember that there are only a few angles I tend to prefer

I’m only here to serve”

Those first two lines fucking floored me when I first really listened to what they are saying. I learned from quite an early age that all I was good for was my looks. And then sex. So I combined the two to forge an identity that I hoped people would like. An A grade slut, both in my personal life, and professionally. Sexy, easy, available, yours if you want me (please take me I cannot stand myself). Took me a long fucking time to grow out of that. I have never fought as hard against anything and I have come a long way.

“Oh, I was pissing on the flame

Like a child with cash or a king on cocaine

I’ve got the world by the balls

Am I supposed to behave?

Oh, I was dancing 'round the flame

Like a high-wire act with a "who, me?” face

I was living on nothing but water and cake"

Perilously close to oblivion at all times and dangerously self destructive but gosh, wasn’t I good at it? Wasn’t I cute? Didn’t you used to wank to me? I have no idea what kept me together, let alone alive. Natural talent, I suppose. That Aries fight. Against the bored, lonely, suffering person I used to be. Against death, to the death. And death hasn’t won me over yet, seductive bastard that he is.

“What a fraud

What a con

You’re the only

One I love

One I love

One I love”

This isn’t about you, baby. It’s about me, Jimmy, and Father John Misty. But then, we are kindred souls. So I suppose it is. A bit.

 Part II: Confrontation (A journal entry, written upon entering rehab)

17.4.18

I haven’t been remembering my dreams. They’ve been fading so fast. I got 10 hours of sleep after deciding not to attend the NA meeting and having to walk past it anyway to get to the smoking area. I didn’t want to encroach on an experience I don’t share but what’s the difference? Why would I care for legality? It’s strange being here in a ‘good’ patch. No withdrawals, only craving nicotine. Am I here not to get ‘better’, but ‘even better’? I’m not sure how I feel. A little alien. Just letting myself think and waiting for anything significant. Being here is symbolically significant. I’m here to learn coping skills and relapse prevention, that’s it. It doesn’t have to provide anything deeper or provoke feelings of profundity. It’s basic shit. I’m an alcoholic and I don’t want to go back to problem drinking.

Where is the fear and pain I felt yesterday? What was the purpose of it? Knock out a rehab stay while I don’t have work/uni commitments and hope I fucking learn for when I do. The best I can do is be present. I am scared that I still don’t know exactly what I’m studying towards. I’m probably not as smart as I presume. What is my lot in life going to be? A job I like and a husband I adore? God, spare me. I’m having a crisis of personality. Intensity and extremity are not useful defining characteristics. Yet being a good, switched on, and fairly interesting person doesn’t feel like enough. How can I relate person to person when I see my own character as lacking? If we are all fundamentally valid and complex as individuals this negative self-assessment automatically carries across to others. I am ashamed not by how boring I feel I am, but why this baseless critical judgement feels so important. My amorphous, superficially high standard insults everyone.

Why is suffering interesting? Why is ‘different’ interesting? Why can’t I conceive of the mid-ranges of reality as interesting, am I that lacking in curiosity and imagination? I’m used to being overstimulated. Or pissed. I am not attuned to subtlety. It is harder work to find wonder in the mundane. Such a vain conquest, so incredibly shallow to attempt to make my life interesting using self hatred as a form of performance art. No one is interested in the creative flair with which you can wield that. Being alive and burning despite things is not impressive if you’re purposefully making life hard for yourself. I don’t really know where I sit with that, though. My mental torment created the life I had. It’s not that I didn’t want to get better. I just took too much pride in how much I could relish in how fucked up I was.

The hereness and newness of myself is queer because it is complete but also completely lacking in drama. I don’t know what foot to start on if not shock value. I’m a recovering alcoholic, a reformed self loathing attention seeker. What am I inviting people to see if not a hot mess? A tepid, anxious 27 year old boy. My social stance is defensive. Find my projected self interesting but do not attempt to actually know me. I am too fragile, too sad, too boring. I don’t want these human frailties to be levelled with so I cast them up high, make an overexaggerated display of them. I’m not doing that anymore. Take me as I am, whatever that is, but also don’t because I don’t know what that is and I won’t make any efforts to help you find out either. So it seems like I want to be left alone but I have been alone on my plinth celebrating my vain, personal self loathing for so long I am starved for human connection. I was lying the whole time. I am one of you. It is still embarrassing to admit.

 Part III: Resolution (A short story about ego death, written in rehab)

30.4.18

So you arrive on your own doorstep one day, right? You would never come to yourself at a time like this, the you that suffers knows he’s not exactly wanted, but he is desperate. There is nowhere else to go, every safe haven is closed or gone. You’re tired, cold, and soaking wet. It’s pouring because of course it is. A few hours pass and your ego, comfortable inside, decides to take a chance and let you in. You’ve been screaming and pleading for hours. “Let me in, LET ME IN!” You collapse fully clothed in a hot shower while your various self conceptions tut and fuss, bitching about the decision. “Family,” some of them say uncertainly, “That’s what we’re for, right? People say that kind of stuff when they love irredeemable fuckstains, yeah?” They don’t actually know this, and the other parts of your ego are by turns confused and furious. “What the fuck, guys? He’ll be fine, he’s always fine, get him out of here!” “You fucking IDIOTS! WEAK! This is NOT what’s supposed to happen, this is not what we do!”

They’re all running around swearing, aggressively and resentfully caring. Like the first time you ever got drunk by yourself to make yourself feel better before your year 10 half-yearlies. How you remember sitting naked in the shower with your head lolling, parents freaking out. Meanwhile, you are there again. Bewildered. Overwhelmed, barely responsive. But you’re wide awake. Layers and layers of clothes, costumes, identities weighing your body down as the warm water soaks through. Something clicks and you realise it makes no sense to be fully dressed in the shower. As a token act to bring normalcy to the situation, you start to take the layers off. The process of removing them all takes a while, but once it is done you feel as though it happened in the blink of an eye.

“Huh.” You say, looking down at your own body. “Is this what I look like?” It’s a significant action in the symbolic world, taking off your clothes. It never felt like it was before. You didn’t understand the meaning of exposing yourself, of vulnerability. You just did it cos you had a malformed concept of fear. Scary things are good for you, they make you stronger. A seemingly contradictory belief that laying your flaws out on the table prevents people from abusing you for them. Nothing can hurt you when you are made of hurt. It is different completely, however, to reveal yourself to yourself. You’re there naked in the bathroom, looking at yourself as though you’ve never seen yourself before.

Your ego, anxieties, notions of your self that you’ve constructed are all pacing around frantically, fighting with each other about who’s right and what’s the best course of action. None of them ever had a contingency plan for acknowledging the hurt. Confronting the core of who you are. Their very existences are reliant upon dividing the self into these fragments. The elephant in the room of your life is in the fucking bathroom doing god knows what. He’s been in there for hours.

Back to you there. With all the layers removed, you turn on the light. It’s a lot like tripping. What you see in the mirror you know to be yourself, but the image feels so foreign. Stranger still is how separate the amalgamated pile of faces you used to wear looks there in the corner, apart from you. Not, as you believed so deeply, parts of you. They grow irrelevant as you trace your finger over your reflection. “Fuck. Is this who I am?” After a little while you start to think your time in there might be worrying all of the other selves, and they really didn’t want to let you in, so it would only be right to go and let them know you’re okay. You’re not going to cause any trouble. You’re grateful. None of the clothes on the floor are suitable to wear, so “Fuck it,” You think, and walk out. The exhibitionist, the slut, and the hippie were all naked anyway.

The place is empty, dead quiet. For some reason it feels like it has been for a while. You’re confused, are they playing a trick? After wandering around for a while you decide to make a cup of tea and have a cigarette. Make yourself at home, as it were. It’s nice to be out of the storm, relaxing and enjoying your own company. You don’t need the assistance of your ego selves to do that anyway. You are allowing yourself residency in your own mind, this overexposed, brutally hurt self. The hurt doesn’t feel very present though, strangely. You thought yourself to be the suffering person. That’s why they didn’t want you here. The situation leaves you bizarrely unphased. Things that should be scary tend not to be, right? You’re just rolling with it, acting like the place is all yours while the selves are elsewhere.

You can’t quite believe it, both that they actually relented when you were banging the door down, and that you got into a situation so fucked you needed to seek the help of the conscious collective. You usually just communicate via proxies. “I’m here, how weird.” You think. Perfume Genius is playing and the sound quality is fantastic. Walking back into the bathroom to pee, you notice the pile of clothes has vanished. The trippy feeling you had before settles on you again and you look to the mirror. Your eyes widen as you see all your selves, the shades of ego and anxiety, floating behind you, faint as ghosts. You see the Party Girl, the Masochistic Martyr, the Stubborn Whore. Their faces are passive and kind. Something you’d attribute to the relief of death.

You lived through them, they lived as you so you could survive. They panicked when you got here, begging to be let in. Because your arrival signified their exit. With your presence, in your self and reality, false constructs fall away. You are the spirit that persisted, the soul that endured. Their service was for one end, and that was getting you here. Everything they protected you through, all of the lessons they helped you learn are intact, part of you as a whole. You’re left staring at the naked truth of who you are. None of the people you’ve been fought in vain. The end game was always unity.

From the other room you hear the piano player playing “This Must Be The Place” and you think: it’s a miracle to be alive. You exit the bathroom into the rest of your life, hearing someone say “Pleasure to meet you!” It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. You are the resurrection, and you are the light you needed to let in. You could only bring yourself to hate yourself for so long. A spark, a flame, a bang, a phoenix. You see yourself rising in the vast and limitless universe. Within and without, at peace, as one.

[our-mathematical-universe]

Not a Forced Bond: Why Rey and Ren will share a bond and why their destinies are intertwined.

Spoiler warning: spoilers for The Force Awakens, The last Jedi, Harry Potter and Game of Thrones

The teaser trailer for The Last Jedi is finally out and it was amazing! It seems to lend credibility to some of the most popular theories on Tumblr regarding Ren and Rey and the mysterious connection they share. But why do Kylo Ren and Rey, two people who have seemingly nothing in common apart from loneliness, share a connection? J.J Abrams said that “their destinies are intertwined” and in the novelization of TFA Ren is described to have stumbled upon “something of interest”. That something had nothing to do with the search for Luke Skywalker since Ren decided to put it aside in order to look for the map, intending to revisit it later. It was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, since it remained unnamed in his thoughts. In the now famous interrogation scene, Ren said the most mysterious lines of the movie: “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” What was he talking about? After reading this wonderful meta by @the-darkness-to-her-light  https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/the-darkness-to-her-light/159671558461  I’ve come to believe that it can be described by one word: compassion.

Kylo Ren and Compassion

Kylo Ren is different to the villains we’ve come to expect from Hollywood. His uniqueness stems from his inner struggle. He’s not happy with where he is. As he admits himself, he is in pain. Where does that pain come from?

His first appearance in TFA is that of a cold, cocky executioner. He seems callous. He does after all murder an old man who seems to genuinely care for him and then orders the slaughter of an entire village of innocent people. People whose only crime was that they harbored a fugitive. But let’s consider Kylo Ren’s idol, Darth Vader. What would have Vader done in this situation? From what we saw in Rogue One, Vader didn’t cut corners when it came to punishment. I can hardly imagine Vader asking Lor San Takka for the map. Vader killed first and asked questions later. But as we learn in the novelization, Ren gave Lor San Takka the option to surrender.

«Don’t turn a simple transaction into a tragedy for these people.»

The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster

After the mass execution, Ren does something that we could never imagine Vader doing: he catches a Stormtrooper disobeying commands and lets him go. And that statement doesn’t do it justice. Ren, a telepathic Force user, has actually read Finn’s mind and knows why Finn didn’t fire. He didn’t for a second buy the lame excuse that Finn gave to Phasma. Ren knows Finn couldn’t kill due to his compassion. One would expect a commanding officer to administer punishment immediately. In an army created through indoctrination, even a single instance of disobedience is dangerous. The image of Ned Stark beheading that frightened young soldier from the Wall for a trifle act of disobedience comes to mind. And Ned Stark was a man known for his compassion. Hell, he even died because of it. Imagine what a Vader-type leader would do in a situation like that. But that’s not what Ren does. And what he proceeds to do next is even weirder. He hops onto his ship and doesn’t alert anybody, ANYBODY about the Stormtrooper that refused to kill. He doesn’t even use it as a golden opportunity to humiliate Hux. If he had felt contempt for Finn’s compassion he certainly wouldn’t have missed a chance to jab Hux with it. This leads me to believe that Ren felt respect for Finn’s inner struggle with compassion. Because that is what Ren himself struggles with. That’s what he’s been struggling with since the day he joined Snoke.

«A great deal of his education had been devoted to learning how to live and move forward in the absence of emotion.»

The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster

Soon after the village scene, we see Ren alone in his dark room, talking to his only confidant: Vader’s battered helmet. He tells his grandfather that he feels it again, the call to the Light. The phrasing suggests a familiarity with this situation. It’s not the first time Ren has felt the call to the Light since he joined the FO. It’s one of many. And from the placement of the scene we are given to understand that the call to the Light is his compassion. This is true, based on Anakin Skywalker’s own words: compassion is central to the Jedi ideology. And that is what Kylo Ren started as, a Jedi.

After Finn betrays the FO and escapes with Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren is the one who immediately knows who the Stormtrooper was. Why would he assume that? Phasma apparently found out that there was nothing wrong with Finn’s blaster and sent him for reconditioning - more brainwashing - but thought it unremarkable and didn’t alert Hux. She didn’t immediately think it was Finn, of all the thousands of Stormtroopers on that Star Destroyer, who committed the treason. But the key detail here is that, although both Hux and Phasma can conceive of “disobedience”, “squirmishness” and “cowardice”, neither of them understand compassion. Ren does. Phasma and Hux don’t struggle with it. Ren does. Ren knows that it wouldn’t take all that much to make him drop Snoke and all fifty layers of clothes he drags around and go back to his mother. A Stormtrooper who defies death because he can’t prevail upon his compassion isn’t hard to imagine for him. He feels the same thing, in his very skin.

When Ren taunts Hux about how Snoke might be better off with a clone army, he’s more than just trying to piss Hux off. He is hinting at something, a hidden danger that only he can see. He knows that a human army has a weakness: compassion. He knows that compassion comes from being human and it’s almost impossible to squash. He knows because he’s tried and failed to do so. And has to hide it every single day. That’s the terrible burden that he carries, having to hide his compassion.

Ren’s training is peculiar itself, as far as villains go. A lot of people put emphasis on what it means that Ren killed his father, Han Solo. Is he now completely consumed by the Dark Side? As far as we may love Kylo Ren as a fictional character, let’s be fair and say that patricide is something that should put you squarely on the Dark Side of things. However, in the TFA novelization we are explicitly told that the goal Snoke and Ren have set as teacher and student is not to have Ren completely succumb to the Dark Side. He isn’t supposed to be completely consumed by either Side of the Force. That leaves us to assume that their goal is for him to reach… balance.

«It is where you are from. What you are made of. The dark side—and the light. The finest sculptor cannot fashion a masterpiece from poor materials.»

The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster

After all, when Snoke accuses Ren of failing to get the map from the girl because of his compassion towards her, Ren doesn’t say that he would never feel compassion for anyone. He says he would never feel compassion for an enemy of the First Order. He wouldn’t have protested that if Snoke had forbidden any and all access to the Light side and to his compassion.

«The Supreme Leader’s voice was flat. “You have compassion for her.” “No—never. Compassion? For an enemy of the Order?»

The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster

I suppose what Snoke must have said to Ben Solo to lure him might have sounded perfectly reasonable on the surface: “Do not give in to sentimentality. Learn to control your compassion, learn not to let it get in the way of duty. You must do what’s right for the Galaxy. You must give your compassion to those who deserve it, not misplace it like the Jedi. Not let it stop you from doing the right thing like it did Vader.” Somewhere inside that heap of half-truths must have been the idea of a “benevolent dictator”. A thing that doesn’t exist in reality of course.

J.J Abrams’s comment about the title, Force Awakens, hints at another deception Snoke has employed.

"This was not just 'The Force Awakens' in a young woman. It’s the dark side of The Force awakening in the villain.”

In the original and prequel trilogies the Emperor seduced Anakin Skywalker to the Dark Side… only the Dark Side. Palpatin never told Anakin he was a perfect sculpture of both Light and Dark. It’s strange that Snoke would tell Ren that, given all the atrocities he asks him to commit in the name of their common “goal”. Ren, or rather Ben, didn’t rise from the Dark side. His training was presumably exclusively on the Light side (certainly can’t see Luke teaching the Dark Side :P). But Ben struggled with feelings of anger and fear and maybe nothing in Luke’s teachings helped him make sense of those. Or, the concept of Balance might have entered Luke’s mind as early as when Ben was still his apprentice, but the way he went about achieving Balance proved impossible for Ben. Maybe Luke, like Snoke, asked Ben to deny some part of his psyche but it proved impossible. Enter Snoke, with his own theory on Balance using the Dark Side (anger and fear) as a source of strength. If the news about Darth Vader being his grandfather got out around the time the clash with Luke, the inner struggle and Snoke’s misleading whispers reached their culmination, Ben would have gone over to the First Order guns blazing.

Why would killing his father be the way for Ren to awaken the Dark Side inside him? Palpatine didn’t ask Anakin to kill Padme. It was convenient that she died, but nevertheless he didn’t ask for it (because Anakin was never going to do that, and wouldn’t go to the Dark Side if it meant Padme would die). What it took for Anakin to go over to the Dark Side was a decision. He decided to give himself to Palpatine out of fear and love for his wife. Why then would it be necessary for Ren to kill someone in order for the Dark Side to rise inside him, in order to gain that strength that Snoke promised him? Isn’t falling to the Dark Side an internal change? A seduction? I think that Snoke purposefully mislead Ren into this decision because he wanted to kill his compassion, which is the source of his individuality. It’s the source of everyone’s individuality in this new trilogy. Finn broke away from the shackles of his indoctrination because of his compassion. In the new trilogy, compassion sets you free. 

Only Ren was misinformed.

At the end of The Force Awakens, Ren knows Snoke didn’t come through. He was weakened by his wicked act. It’s interesting that when he confronts Rey in the forest he doesn’t say “You’re alone now, Han Solo can’t save you”. He says “It’s just us now. Han Solo can’t save you.” The first would have been a far more accurate statement given that Ren supposedly has Snoke, a father figure, an army and years of training. More importantly, “You’re alone now” is intimidating - especially coming from Kylo Ren - while “It’s just us now” sounds like the plea of someone who wants to be empathized with, who craves closeness. It’s always been my impression that the way Adam Driver delivers the line “Han Solo can’t save you”, the trembling in his voice, the way his eyes are wide open and round and his breathing ragged, is that of a man who speaks of a tragedy. It isn’t hate. He addressed Finn with hate a few seconds later and the two deliveries are worlds apart. He sounds like a son who is incredibly angry at his father but at the same time he can’t put a lid on the pain and grief that’s coursing through him, threatening to show. But Kylo Ren can never show that emotion. It is forbidden.

Whatever Kylo Ren’s ultimate goal is, it’s not the same as that of Emperor Palpatine or Darth Vader. He doesn’t desire the traditional things the Dark Side has to offer. He wants to be strong, but what “strength” means to him may be wildly different from what Snoke promised him. Kylo Ren’s end goal has to do with what he perceives as moral. He aims to correct what he thinks is “wrong”.

“When they think of their actions as morally justified, it makes them dangerous and unpredictable. There’s no level they won’t go to to accomplish what they’re after. I never thought of the character as an evil person.” - Adam Driver

Rey and Ren: An intertwined destiny

He sensed his destiny and Rey’s were somehow intertwined, but how? - Kylo Ren’s biography, Star Wars.com databank

At the end of The Force Awakens, Rey has her first close shave with the Dark Side. She considers killing Kylo Ren but decides against it, because killing him in a fit of rage would be what she has learned from legend to be “the path to the Dark Side”. Armed with her eternal optimism and notions about heroism and goodness she’s absorbed through myths, she goes to Ach-To, to learn the Jedi way from the legendary Luke Skywalker. 

“Rey has a certain expectation as to what she might be getting from Luke and what that might entail. And as a lot of people know, it’s difficult when you meet your heroes because it might not be what you expect.”

Only she was misinformed.

Luke Skywalker isn’t who she thought he was going to be. He believes the Jedi - and possibly their teachings - must end. He doesn’t have the right answers for her. Does Luke perhaps think that as long as the Jedi exist, there will always be a way for the Dark side to twist their teachings and lure away vulnerable young students? Does he think that the Jedi way is somehow detrimental to bringing Balance to the Force? I’m more inclined to believe the first than the second. It’s an erroneous notion that a lot of people - good people - have bought into out of exhaustion and disappointment. A more extreme version of it would be if Luke believes the Jedi must end because all meddling with the Force must end. That simply by messing with forces greater than themselves people end up in misery and ruin. Perhaps he thinks the Force is more trouble than it’s worth. Rey has already seen that line of thinking in Finn and was very disappointed. If Luke Skywalker has had a tryst with the Dark Side, I think it was by giving in to pessimism and inaction. He may even have been tempted to enforce order and good behavior across the galaxy and thus flirt with despotism, but given the fact that he was largely absent from the political scene and traveled the galaxy in search of Jedi lore, I think it’s more likely he was beaten down by pessimism.

“I only know one truth: it is time for the Jedi to end.”

Luke Skywalker in The Last Jedi teaser trailer

Rey wants to restore the Light Side to its former glory and settle her personal score with Kylo Ren. She doesn’t want to sit idly by while the world descends into chaos and despotism. And she wants to avenge her friends. It appears from both the TLJ trailer and the spoilers that Luke can’t or won’t help her with that. It’s not clear yet what exactly Rey wants to do with Kylo Ren. Does she want to kill him? Does she worry that this would send her to the Dark Side? What does Rey believe about the notion a lot of the fandom espouses that it would mean Han died in vain if Ben Solo can’t return to the Light? Rage may tempt her to end his life but when she’s had time to cool off and think, she probably won’t be as willing to kill Han Solo’s only son, the one he died trying to bring back. So what does she want to do with Kylo Ren? I imagine Rey must be burning with the same questions we are at this point. Why did Han and Leia’s son join the First Order? What does Kylo Ren want? What’s he fighting for? When Luke Skywalker won’t be able to answer these questions, who is she going to turn to? I admit I have a headcanon where the Force ghosts of Obi Wan and Yoda show up on Ach-To and tell her something better than they told Luke on Degoba thirty years ago :P. 

It is perhaps the strangest thing that the only living person who holds the answers to these questions is the same one she is supposed to defeat. But, what kind of knowledge does Kylo Ren have? He believes they have important things in common. He wants to save her the heartache of expecting Han Solo to be a father to her. He wants to avoid hurting her, to protect her from Snoke, like he wanted to avoid hurting the billions that were murdered by Starkiller Base. In the interrogation scene, Ren tells Rey that something she feels he feels too and for that reason she needs not to be afraid of it. Kylo Ren has already begun instructing her. 

It’s surprising actually that Ren is a person who empathizes with that many people. He empathizes with Finn, with Rey, with his father, with Leia, with the people of the Republic who were murdered, with the entire army of the First Order, with Poe. You don’t see that in villains very often. Despite his terrifying appearance, he’s bleeding empathy from head to toe. It would be a mistake to think that someone who can commit such horrific crimes is someone who can’t feel empathy to such a degree. It’s also a mistake to think that because he feels empathy he isn’t incredibly dangerous to be around. The most important thing Rey and Ren have in common is their empathy. Rey is an extremely empathetic person. She is so empathetic, she can identify with machines.

It took a real effort for her to let go of the first pile of food packets and draw her hand back. She glanced down at the inert droid, thinking hard. At last she looked back at the merchant. “Actually—the droid’s not for sale. I made a mistake.”

The Force Awakens by Alan Dean Foster

She is also good at seeing past pretenses and grasping the real meaning behind people’s words. Evidence to that is the fact that despite Han’s grumpy exterior, she immediately knew what he was thinking when he tried to offer her a job. She is extremely good at reading emotions. She has gotten as much knowledge about Kylo Ren as he has gotten of her, if not more. And it is always harder to kill your enemies when you know what they are behind the pretense.

Rey and Ren are two people who are remarkably similar to each other. It’s more than their lonely childhoods. It’s more than the fact they’ve seen in each other’s minds. It’s more than their tenacity and bravery. They’re similar in their hearts. For a story that would be bound to end with the heroin killing the villain, that’s a rather useless set up. Their situational similarities might not have been enough to ensure a redemption arc for the villain, but the fact that they are similar in their hearts is the defining difference between this and other hero-villain dynamics where the hero empathizes with the villain but still has to kill him. Harry Potter empathized with Voldemort but they weren’t similar in their hearts. He also empathized with Snape for that, even though Snape died, their relationship was decidedly different from that between Harry and Voldemort. They were similar in their hearts. They both knew how to love, despite the fact that one had committed appalling crimes.

I’ve come to believe that the special bond Rey and Ren will share is not necessarily one that was forged through the Force during the mind-probing. It could be this literal and it would be awesome, but an actual telepathic bond isn’t necessary anymore because they’ve already forged a bond through compassion and empathy. It’s not an accidental bond, or a forced one, they were always meant to have that connection. They can’t fulfill their respective goals without this bond and without help from one another. And at the same time neither can go over to the other’s side. The only solution for them is to achieve Balance. And that is why their destinies are intertwined.

Epilogue

After seeing the teaser poster for TLJ, I think this similarity - the one in their hearts - is what the artists had in mind. 

Luke’s face seems angry, aggressive. But Ren’s face… a lot of people think it looks ominous, threatening. I think he’s got the look a person has when they are reading you, and want to be read back. His face definitely doesn’t look contorted with anger, or impending violence. He looks like he’s in silent pain. It’s no accident that the face of the “ominous, threatening” villain is smaller than that of the angry, legendary hero. It’s also no accident that Ren’s face is closer to Rey - or at least appears to be due to size. Rey looks like the only beacon of hope in the bloody picture. But the light of her Lightsaber slowly turns into red. It’s strange perhaps that, since the mouths of these two men are obscured and their eyes are their most expressive feature, their eyes are not leveled against each other, as if that comparison would be irrelevant. Luke’s eye is next to the ominous red beam while Ren’s eye is right in the middle where the beam changes colors. Rey seems to be looking at the brilliant light of the blue Lightsaber slowly turning into red. She seems aware of the change. She truly sees “Light, Darkness and a Balance”.

[sableaire]

What's wrong with Eleanor and Park?

I can see why it’s an enjoyable enough story, but my discomfort comes with the portrayal of Park. There aren’t too many Korean or even half-Korean characters in popular American fiction, so the main reason I read the book was for him in the first place.

Unfortunately, a major element of the book surrounds Park hating being half-Korean and associating being Asian with weakness. Which, considering the setting, is understandable, but there are three things about Eleanor & Park that grate at me, which I have elaborated on below the cut:

1) There is limited Korean-American representation in America, and this is the one that’s prevalent, the one about the kid who hates himself and looks down on his Korean mother, who only comes to be somewhat okay with being Korean when his girlfriend tells him that she thinks he’s cute - not sure if it’s because he’s Korean, but not in spite of it - and later comments that maybe she has a thing for Korean guys and she just didn’t know it.

*Hissing intake of breath* Yes, for the character of Park, maybe that was what he needed? But as a character whom the author herself stated was meant to be Asian representation? It makes me uncomfortable that his his self-esteem, tied to his half-Korean heritage, pretty much always comes down to appearances. I mean, that’s often the case in YA novels, sure, but Park is more than a YA novel protagonist, he’s an attempt at representation for an underrepresented demographic that has long dealt with fetishization on one hand, demasculization on the other, and is currently dealing with post kpop-boom fetishization (which is a whole other issue). It makes me uncomfortable.

Also, Park has green eyes. This is a smaller detail, and not one that’s impossible, but it’s a trope where major Asian characters are often given different eye colors because brown isn’t ‘unique’ enough, or because the protagonist needs to be ‘visually distinct’ from the rest of the Asians. Either that, or it exoticizes them further.  There are other ways to do it than eye color.

Ultimately, Park was meant to be Asian representation, Korean representation, but Park’s Korean nature starts and stops at his appearance. And taekwondo, which his American father made him go to and he’s not too fond of. It’s also spelled “taekwando” throughout my copy, which also kills me, but regardless.

There are kids like Park, I’m sure, who are disconnected from Korean culture, who don’t speak Korean, etc. But if one of your parents were born and raised in Korea and came over, and they’re raising you, there are some things that stick. None of those little details are there. If Park’s mother was more than just a background character, even, those little details would be there. 

The only time rice is ever mentioned in the book is in Eleanor’s narrative. I honestly cannot conceive of a Korean person born and raised in Korea who wouldn’t complain about America’s lack of sticky white rice, even once. If not Park’s mother, he could have complained about his mother complaining about America’s lack of rice, and that slightest, smallest detail would have made everything feel a little bit better for me. But Rowell probably didn’t know that, is the thing.

2) Rainbow Rowell is woman who is inexperienced with the Asian-American experience. Now, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing - I’m not the type of person that thinks that people of one race, ethnicity, or nationality should never write protagonists from another. However, when it comes to writing a character about hating their own heritage, in a time where there is not too much representation, it needs to be delicately handled, and someone without direct experience might not know how much thought needs to be put into it.

There are a lot of microaggressions in Eleanor & Park, some intentional, and some… probably not. Or, if it’s intentional, as a YA novel, I feel like they should have been better clarified as negative thoughts so that readers know this kind of thinking, these kind of comments, are not okay.

Throughout the book, Eleanor is pretty racist, but the story fails to condemn this behavior, especially since she never says it out loud - it’s mostly in her own head. Examples that linger in my head are ones that other people have talked about before,such as when Eleanor has the joking thought that Park paralyzed her with his “ninja magic”, or when she meets Park’s mother and waxes eloquent thinking of her as a Dainty China doll from The Wizard of Oz.

“Eleanor imagined Park’s dad, Tom Selleck, tucking his Dainty China person into his flak jacket and sneaking her out of Korea.“

First of all, comparing Asian women to dolls in this day and age - not cool. Even if it’s true to setting, not cool, since kids reading will learn that and think that’s okay when it’s not. When will we escape the objectification of Asian women, not 2012.

Further, Rowell’s father served in Korea in the 70s. She cites that as part of the reason she felt compelled to write Park as Korean, beyond her initial sense of “he just was Korean from the start,” which I do understand. The problem is, if her view of the American soldiers in Korea comes solely from her father’s military time there, she’s got a pretty biased view.

Park and Eleanor frame the white soldier whisking a Korean woman out of the country to America as something romantic, due to Rowell’s own life experience where her father carried a photo of a Korean girl on his person for years after returning from Korea. I can understand why she would want to explore that story, what a romance like that might have been. I genuinely wish that the current publishing climate would allow for her to explore that story and that I would be able to enjoy it. Unfortunately, current climate does not, and I cannot enjoy it.

The problem is, the story of American soldiers whisking Korean women out of the country has been told before. It has been a reality before, and considering it romantic?  A lot of Koreans would disagree. A lot of Korean-Americans would disagree. A lot. 

The American military’s presence in South Korea post-Korean War is one plagued with politics, and a time during which the sex industry was encouraged by the government to generate revenue from American soldiers. Many young Korean girls were forced or tricked into sex work, specifically for American soldiers. The Wikipedia page is here for an overview, and here’s something from Yale if that wasn’t scholarly enough. That’s left a lot of hard feelings.

I’m not saying there couldn’t have been great romances between American soldiers and Korean women at the time, but those are pretty much the only stories that have been told about the time (in English media), often told by said American soldiers themselves. As a society, it just might be time to recognize that with biased narrators, a language barrier, and cultural miscommunication, what might be a great romance to one man might have been a matter of fear and survival to another woman.

Then there’s Park’s name. I would also like a little backstory to Park’s name. His name is Park, which is a Korean family name. There was such a good opening there. The story could have made it clear that his mother wanted Park to have some kind of connection to his Korean culture, so they made his first name her maiden name. That would have been great.

But there’s no such explanation, and instead readers are left with a Korean kid named Park. The ordering of Korean names have been confusing to Americans for a long time, especially to children, so this really isn’t going to help with that. Next time they meet a Korean kid who introduces himself surname first, they might assume Park’s just his name. I’ve seen it happen before, and it’s always a little exasperating.

There’s more, but it all comes down to one point:

3) This is not a book I can recommend to Korean-Americans. Isn’t that the purpose of representation? So that the represented demographic can relate to the character? But the fact of the matter is, this is a YA Romance with a half-Korean kid that I would never recommend to a young Korean or half-Korean kid. Heck, I wouldn’t recommend it to any young Asian kid.

Why would I want them to read a book in which the half-Korean kid hates being any part Korean? One in which Korean women are framed as slight and weak? One in which Park feels that being Asian makes him less masculine, in which characters spend chapters trying to name one sexy Asian actor and they come up with Bruce Lee? One that has basically no actual reference to Korean culture?

Throughout the entire book, Park being half-Korean just serves as justification for his self-loathing / insecurity, his parents’ love story, and his striking appearance. Except he doesn’t think it striking. His girlfriend does, and that makes it better. To reiterate, Park being Korean basically comes down to his appearance. There’s nothing in there that a Korean-American can positively relate to. What good does that kind of representation do?

Yes, there are people like Park, who know nothing of Korean culture, whose Asian-American experience comes down to their experience of racism. However, Eleanor & Park is arguably worse for these individuals, because the book doesn’t teach Park to love himself or his heritage or his mother.

This book doesn’t have a message that I would want young Asian kids or young half-Asian kids to be reading. And it kills me because the author specifically stated that she did this for representation.

It kills me because I was hopeful, and I read it with a lot of hope for its content, but instead I was left with dread that this was the representation that was so highly acclaimed.

And it kills me further because there was a way to tell this story right, but Rowell just didn’t have the knowledge. I feel bad for her, because she failed to accomplish what she set out to do. I feel angry because she’ll probably never realize since the book was so widely praised. I feel tired because the average reader won’t notice all these little things that grated on me. To them, it was just a bittersweet romance, an enjoyable book. 

And every time someone around me mentions how much they loved the book, I have to consider whether or not I want to go through explaining all of the above yet again.

[hanzi83]

Gang Stalking

It seems like the transparency is at an all time high than usual. It is a shame I cannot talk to my friends or family about these things personally. I have to go through different people who seem to politicize their position to me and it feels like overtures that are made are not genuine. I become frightened to talk to people I know, because they have thrown my mental illness back at me throughout my life. I am so fearful of all this and they know it, which is why people can be more transparent and get away with it. I wonder do they want me to flat out just state my theories, or are they trying to push me to suicide. I wonder if there is an investment for me to attempt it.

Let’s say whatever I have tweeted out or said in the past is true that I have been enlisted in a gang stalking program because they have just cause to do so if they can tell their superiors that they suspect someone such as myself to be a trouble maker because I am outspoken about my theories, when I should probably keep that on the low, but I am so far gone that it doesn’t matter anymore. No one believes these programs exist, because in media, television, movies etc, they present life as just people being normal for the most part and then there is a fringe conspiracy going on, but it is never showing you how everything is interconnected together to facilitate each other. It is like people are adamant in thinking that there is nothing beneath the surface, and even when they present something beneath the surface it comes within limits. So here is quick recap of what gang stalking is according to online sources, but keep in mind this could all just be some online propaganda I have probably felt for, but it seems like the secretive nature has made it so much more clearer over the last couple of years.

This is what I got from urban dictionary. It seems to resonate with me because it feels like it has been going on with me to some extent, but again I can’t prove it, and before someone points out I am reading something from online sites that have no merit, I realize it could all be bullshit, or maybe it is implemented online on purpose because it is supposed to catch traction. I am unsure, but again for all I know this is just my delusions kicking in.

Gang stalking is simply a form of community mobbing and organized stalking combined. Just like you have workplace mobbing, and online mobbing, which are both fully recognized as legitimate, this is the community form. 

Gang stalking is organized harassment at it's best. It the targeting of an individual for revenge, jealousy, sport, or to keep them quite, etc.  It's organized, widespread, and growing. Some describe this form of harassment as, "A psychological attack that can completely destroy a persons life, while leaving little or no evidence to incriminate the perpetrators."  2. Who gets targeted  The people getting targeted seem to be (single) woman, minorities, outspoken individuals, whistle blowers, dissidents, people who have gone against large corporations, etc.  3. Goals of this hate campaign.  The goal is to sensitize the target to stimuli, isolate the target, and make them destitute. The secondary goals seem to be to make the target homeless, jobless, give them a breakdown, and the primary goals seem to be to drive the target to suicide.  4. Who gang stalks? The surprising thing is that gang stalkers can be found in every level of society. There is no real age barrier, gender barrier, and a variety of races do participate. In almost every occupation in society you can find people who are going along with this.  Gang stalking for many is seen as a game, a sport to be played with another individuals life. Many do not understand or care that the end consequence of this game is to destroy a person.  5. Why they gang stalk.  "It is not conceivable that the participants in the harassment don't even know why the person has been targeted, nor would most of these individuals have any personal stake in harassing the victim.  - Gang stalking is an both an addictive behavior as well as a form of entertainment for the stalkers. There is a vicious kind of pleasure that they derive from bullying their victim. Clearly they like the feeling of being "in control".  Like our society's current obsession with "reality TV", this activity must inevitably gain popularity as the ultimate experience of "reality" entertainment. To the perpetrators, their targets are merely their prey, in a game that never ends. But make no mistake, whatever the reasoning behind it, this is a vicious and calculated hate crime."  -Others are blackmailed or forced into talking part in this activity.  -Others go along with it because they want to fit in and feel part of something that is large and powerful.  -Some are part of community groups who believe they are targeting an undesirable. -Some are part of the informant groups within cities.  6. Methods used against targets.  a) Classical conditioning.  Getting a target sensitized to sounds, colors, patterns, actions. Eg. Red, white, yellow, strips, pens clicking, key jangling, coughing, sneezing, whistling, fingerssnapping, clapping, etc.  b)24/7 Surveillance  This will involve following the target everywhere they go. Learning about the target, where they shop, work, play, who their friends and family are. Getting close to the target, moving into the community or apartment where they live, across the street, bugging targets phone, house, and computer activity.  c) Isolation of target.  This is done via slander campaigns, and lies. Eg. Saying the target is a thief, into drugs, a prostitute, pedophile, crazy, in trouble for something, needs to be watched. False files will even be produced on the target, shown to neighbors, family, store keepers.  d) Noise and mimicking campaigns.  Disrupting the targets life, sleep with loud power tools, construction, stereos, doors slamming, talking in public about private things in the targets life, and mimicking actions of the target. They are basically letting the target know that they are in the targets life. There is daily interferences, nothing that would be too overt to the untrained eye, but psychologically degrading and damaging to the target over time.  e) Everyday life breaks and street theatre.  There are flat tires, putting dirt on targets property. There are mass strangers doing things in public to annoy targets. These strangers might get text messaged to be at a specific time and place, and perform a specific action. If might seem harmless to these strangers, but it could be causing great psychological trauma for the target. They will do things like blocking targets path, getting ahead of them in line, cutting or boxing them in on the road, saying or doing things to elicit a response from targets. Etc.  Gang stalking is an illegal form of harassment.  However when targets seek help they still get quite a bit of resistance. Some people in today's society even try to pass gang stalking off as a form of paranoia, even though the meetings in Toronto are held out of the Toronto Rape Crisis Center and many woman's support groups and crisis centers are now aware of gang stalking, and even training their workers to deal with this form of harassment.  I have felt this has happened with me over the past several years, especially the more I resisted giving into the system, and now my reputation has been reduced to a guy in his mom’s basements who doesn’t do anything and is not relevant, even though they send people to harass me. I am not the only target apparently, but knowing that this is a possibility doesn’t sit well with me, and I can’t do anything about it, and people in my life can’t say anything and it gives them the luxury of using my own mental illness against me. It scares me that people I grew up with, or people I once respected could be forced to doing something so evil, and who is telling them to do it?

Every day I have to wake up and wonder what exactly is going on and pushing my mental stability to a next fucking level and whenever anything good happens to me seemingly, they will block me from ever getting anything because they need themselves to be a part of it. They will never explain how much association they have with other fucking people in the industry or the connections they have. I get tickets to a comedy show, and it becomes a big deal where it feels like I am coordinated not to be let there, because then I would ask questions and these people can’t answer them. It is becoming clearer that these people don’t really like me, but they still insist that I be here.

I ask you why? Why do you need me to be here? You will send trolls to give me generalizations of how important I am to the bigger goal, and then tell me things will be okay, but it won’t be okay because these people have already made me so deeply mentally ill and they have the luxury of pretending. No matter what I do, they win. I don’t say anything they get away with their secrecy yet transparency and even their snide remarks that are subtle to show off that there was a gathering I was not invited to, or having me out there so they can make money for recordings of me. I feel like they even have my old camera footage etc as well. I don’t know if any of this is true.

Who will believe me though? No one, certainly no one in the media, no one will touch this story because seemingly there is no proof to any of this. I don’t want to feel this way about people I knew but what other choice do I have, when all I get are generalizations of how much people I know love me and they want the best for me. It doesn’t seem like it. You are not happy with your connections, your new found friendships, and the community orgies you probably partake in, but you still have to make a mentally ill person feel even more mentally ill, where the only platforms he has he has to use as an excuse to bitch like middle school child lashing out about everything. The scary part is how many of these industry types, who know what is going on, just sit back behind the scenes and laugh at it, because that is how they cope with them being mental slaves to a bigger master, and need to take it out on others via sock puppet accounts and fake names so they can get away with saying the most fucked up things to someone.

I closed my twitter accounts. I closed my face book account. I know some people on Tumblr are seeing this, not very many followers on here but I am sure they will see this anyways. No one will address it because no one can admit they watch what I do or read what I am writing, but this won’t make a lick of difference. This is just designed for me to express it out there. Maybe if someone else gets to read this, it might help them if they are going through something familiar. No one will fucking ever help me out of this and whoever they send me to, will be under their choosing because they need to be in the loop with everything I think and say. They control that shit, but no one will ever fucking say anything about it and these seemingly well adjusted human beings who are in the media will just make you seem crazier and just laugh it off because they are the ones who are mentally ill.

I need to escape all of this and not care about wrestling, hip hop, politics, television, podcasts, movies, comedy etc and just never care about anything from all of this. I don’t want to partake in this anymore, especially when they have mentally submitted me for the last several years while my own friends and family show off how much I am out of the loop and don’t seem to care about me or how I react to this, and this is why I lash out in my personal journals, on social media, or in these blogs because I know they are watching, and I know they discuss it. Everyone who has a stake in this do it.

I feel I have nothing for myself anymore. Everything has been stolen from me. I could be wrong about every single thing, but even if I am not, I know it will always be designed to make me feel like I am wrong about everything. It will always feel like I am a part of some reality show. It feels like because I haven’t reached out to certain people, I am being punished full throttle and they have been making it more obvious about it. They really love making me feel like a piece of shit and will still find ways to do it. They will act nice and act civil, but there is barely any discussion to be had with me anymore. So I ask of you, can you please just let me go away and just have my peace. You already given all of this shit to others, and you have let people digitally harass me in an organized fashion. How much more do you want me to go through? Is this your goal? Is this your goal, for me to just attempt suicide? Is that how sick everyone who has partaken in this experiment is? People I grew up with would actually do this to me?

I don’t want to live to find out, but I have to be here because I am not going to be radicalized or let myself to succumb to hurting myself. I think about it a lot, and wonder to see if I did attempt it, would they let me go, or would they find a way to bring me back because they are the ones who decide when you leave, and as much as I want to, I will never do it. I just wonder if that is what their intention is with me.

Thanks a lot Howard. I know this makes you feel good for what you have done, but don’t worry because no one believes me when I say that a shock jock radio host has this much power and is connected higher up where he and others in your position can arrange for someone’s life to be made into even more shit and holding them back from even accomplishing anything, and then because it doesn’t work out for those people, they give up and it becomes more and more their fault, and you have this luxury to hide all of it and you can prosper in your mansion. I bet even the bad stuff posted about you is in limits. You probably don’t even care about the cats in your house, like the internet keeps perpetuating, just like the perpetuating of correlating your new asshole persona to becoming “liberal” when you are probably not a liberal, or making it look like a shit job so it gives liberalism a bad name, just like these corporate democrats that do, which is more leaning to the right.

No one will ever expose you. I am just a delusional one who keeps saying fucked up things. Don’t worry no one will ever believe a word I have said. I only have this creativity and I just killed more material I could have used in stand up, but it won’t fucking happen. I don’t even have freedom to go to a comedy club because they will send specific people to come harass me and it will make me look insane, and I am doing a good job at that myself. So you will always be the king of organizing this. I would ask if you feel any remorse but you clearly don’t have your soul with you anymore because you sold that a long time ago.

[eclecticreviewsofficial-blog]

Room (2015) Lenny Abrahamson, Emma Donoghue

How would you sum up your life? Or your childhood rather? Would you say it was good? Bad? So so? Maybe you’ve had your share of up’s and down’s but nonetheless you’ve been on either end of the spectrum, you have lived a comforted, sheltered life or had one of the shittiest lives known to man. However what would you do if all that was taken away - in a monent? Or even, how would you be if the only life you knew...was a room?

That is what was brought forth in the independent film, ‘Room’, by director Lenny Abraham. A film that was brought to the big screen from New York Time’s bestselling book of the same name by Emma Donoghue.. 

I have to admit, for the most part I am a heartless bastard when it comes to films, I seem to emotionally switch off when it comes to films. Although I enjoy them and find myself on edge sometimes or slapping my leg on a cliffhanger in frustration, the waterworks...just don’t come. I usually feel the burning of the eyes at a sad scene but generally it doesn’t happen for me. 

Until I saw ‘Room’. 

(Credit:IMDB)

Inspired by the story of Felix, the young boy in the Josef Fritzel case, Donogue wrote a book from the perspective of a five year old boy held captive with his mother, Joy,  in a single room with all available amenities (which we later find out is actually an adapted shed). His mother was captured as a young girl and kept for the non-consensual sexual gratification of her captor. Which ultimately resulted in Jack, the young boy. Whom narrates the story. 

Jack regularly watches TV, he knows he and his ‘ma’ (Joy) are real but is ultimately confused about the idea of the outside world, that there is anything beyond ‘door’ and ‘skylight’ other than ‘space’, you see Jack was born in the room, he grew up in the room and the only world he knows is the one he sees on TV and struggles to differentiate between reality and fantasy.. 

When Joy (I keep writing June, where on earth am I getting June from?) learns that her captor ‘Old Nick’ has been unemployed and may lose the house in which they are held captive as a result, Joy adds 2+2 and gets murder, she comes up with the conclusion that Old Nick will kill them, if he is faced with losing the house. 

So in a desperate attempt at escape, Joy tries to convince her captor that Jack is deathly ill, by putting (very hot!) damp cloth on his forehead to raise his temperature, but when Nick refuses to take him to hospital instead promising to bring back stronger anti-biotics, Joy feels hopeless. She realizes that their only chance at escaping is for Jack to play dead, which he struggles to come to grips with understanding, but nonetheless - does it. 

The plan is that Joy wraps him up in the rug and Nick takes him to his truck (which he does, rather reluctantly, but only to save his own skin because with Jack ‘dead’ keeping him there would surely produce a smell after a while and give the guy away)  So, Nick does as he is told and take the boy away after some class acting from Joy (but then again, who wouldn’t win an Oscar in acting as if you’re child is dead if it meant getting them away from danger?) Then while Nick is driving, Jack is to wiggle out of the rug and jump out of the truck. Which sounds good in theory, but remember this is a little boy we’re talking about who’s never seen ‘outside’ so while remaining quite daunted  by the ‘outside’ he tries to jump and instead falls off the truck and Nick sees him. 

Jack tries to run (despite an injury) and is knocked over by a passer by who to begin with, believes that he has knocked some poor guy’s boy down but almost instantly, clicks that something is not right. When Jack struggles and cries for help, Nick realises the games a bogey and bolts, leaving injured Jack in the hands of a stranger and his dog.

And thus, the wheels of freedom are finally in motion for Joy and Jack when Jack manages to mumble fragments of information as to where they were and where they were captive and so begins the rehabilitation and integration into society. 

Now the one thing I have to say about this film that will never change is that this is unequivocally  deserving of every award it has been granted, never have I ever been so in touch with a film as I have been tonight. I felt every emotion, every tear, every fear, every anger filled tantrum from Jack and as a rape victim, I can understand the disgust and hatred shown towards Nick from the protagonist, of having that innocence stolen and the self flagellation she shows herself. The frustration in not being able to speak about it (although obviously I’m brushing on it now - and can do so after hours of counselling) and the ultimate need to end it all, without much thought to the people around her. The floating fingers, as I call them, of people who ask you why you didn’t do this or that. of being made to feel that it was somehow, all your fault. I understand it all, so to see it conceived in a film and produced so beautifully and so skillfully was almost as if Brie Larson, who plays Joy, was not an actress at all. 

Plot

The story line is very fluid, very clear but also amazingly complex but portrayed in a way that is easy to comprehend. Unless it’s just me, as I study psychology, the ability to understand Jack’s frustration in learning that the life he know is false and to comprehend the afternath of such is surprisingly easy to understand. Thankfully to the viewer, they don’t touch on the mental health implications which would result from such a trauma but we’re here to watch the film, not analyse it. 

What I found fascinating was the center of focus, which was mostly on Jack and how he perceives the events around him. It’s almost as if he is suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, when he is excited about the prospect of ‘Old Nick’ bringing him a toy for his birthday. Which soon changes anyway, thankfully. 

To see Jack and Joy’s bond unwavering as they merge into the liberation of their lives, see the up’s and down’s the anxiety of life after ‘room’ is breathtaking. The director doesn’t dance about the afternath as most films do, painting life to be rosey again, they show the true, realistic version of the struggle. Which is evident when Jack recurrently asks about ‘room’ and whether they can go back. 

For plot alone, I award 5 milk bottles. (🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼)

Character

 development.

I am genuinely lost for words. I have been this whole time (which is probably why I repeatedly digress) trying to find the words to describe how raw and realistic the acting was. Brie Larson (Joy) and Jacob Tremblay (Jack) portray their characters, especially to Jacob, for someone so young, to understand such a complex character all I can say is he has a promising career ahead of him. 

Joy and Jack have an unwavering bond, Joy has created a whole universe of wonder with so little inside a tiny room. It is evident how bright and intelligent little Jack is and that is all thanks to Joy and her parenting skills in the face of absolute calamity. (I am thinking that’s not the right word, it’s my first review, humor me!)

It shows the strength and determination of a mother who in the face of danger remains strong for her baby, even when facing the man who defiles her each and every night. To be able to hold such detest for a man inside without it so much as leaking in the slightest to her son, there are no words to describe the respect I have for that. I know it’s just a film but that is testament to the acting, I find myself bleeding this storyline into reality. 

Upon liberation, I think life gets tougher for them, but again, strength shows through for Jack, even forgiving his mother in such an empathetic way for her attempted suicide. Joy, who remained strong for so long, has a moment of weakness when asked “Why didn’t you hand Jack over to your captor to be taken away?” [sic] Joy, feeling like the world is against her, unable to be strong anymore, tries to committ suicide. Probably knowing full well that at least now, her son is safe. That’s not all though, Joy also finds out that whilst she was missing, her parents have broken up and went seperate ways. So to add salt to the wound, the world Joy knew, the memories she had, the ones she held onto so dearly during her imprisonment, are gone. 

We see though that Jack gives her his ‘strong’ (his hair) to make his ‘ma’ feel better again, which ultimately works. This however highlights the childhood innocence born, the empathy that radiates from a child to an adult. Something you don’t normally find in children from captivity, the fear usually leads them to dissasociate but we see in his emotional development a new boy. Who even makes a little friend and starts building a childhood, when Joy sees this upon her release, it’s almost like an instant healer. 

For the character develpment, I give 5 bottles. (🍼🍼🍼🍼🍼)

Conclusion

When people ask me, ‘what is your favourite film?’ I always struggle, I have seen so many films i could not count, it would be impossible, I’d be here forever. However, this film is by far one I will never forget. It’s right up there in my top 5 alongside films such as, ‘The lovely bones’ and ‘Cube’. (As you see I have a penchant for psychological thrillers!)

As a mother this film spoke to me from the viewpoint of Joy, that no matter what you protect your children at all costs. You put them out there, in the face of absolute uncertainty, if it meant saving them from immediate danger. It got touchy feely with the idea that you make the best of what you have and I cannot praise the director or the screenwriter enough for this. But it also spoke to me as a rape victim. The film touched on so many subjects and did so with absolute raw reality, it didn’t sugarcoat things, it slapped it on a plate and said ‘this is what really happens, look at the damage it causes’. 

It also lightened it up a dark situation with the angelic voice of the innocent but very intelligent Jack. So when you’re lump is in your throat, that angelic voice, melts it away. 

I have never been so moved by a film, especially in the scene where Jack and Joy are reunited after Jack’s escape. I braced my bruning eyes and opened the floodgates much against my will, I wanted to say ‘don’t cry’ so much but all I could muster was ‘they found her!’ 

That’s how much you got my heart in a clamp. If clamps were made of film reels of course. 

If I could give this film an award, I would. The only thing I can say is watch it. 

Oh and thanks channel 4 for airing it. Without you lot i’d never have heard of this film - which is odd, seeing as it’s really popular. I should just get out more, but then you wouldn’t have reviews, eh?

Till next time, 

E x

Oh ps, if there is any movies you want me to review, please do drop me a line and ask any questions you like (within reason!! - yes I know that’s contradictory!)