#n i was like it's the blatant way if doing it ide understand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coldslaws-gear-station · 3 months ago

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I'd like to think that in the event of UDU and NHP meeting, UDU Ghetsis would be highly understanding of their hesitation with him

In regards to NHP Alder, he wouldn't push on it, if he knows what his counterpart is like then he wouldn't even blame NHP Alder. Knowing what his counterpart Ghetsis had done would 100% make him vomit, there's no chance he wouldn't. He has a right to be uncomfortable around him, if he wants him to leave him alone, that's what he'll do. He won't get upset that NHP Alder thinks of him so poorly, he understands

In regards to NHP N, his first thoughts would be something along the lines of "Seven's not too many kids, I could adopted another and she looks like he needs the comfort" but that would morph into "Despite my own instincts wanting to shelter him from all the pain, I mustn't. They need to heal, offering a quick and easy way out will only allow leeway for her to relapse back into a toxic attachment. So I must stand back, no matter how much it pains me to see them so sad."

UDU Ghetsis is a caricature of the perfect father; the one thing NHP Ghetsis will never be. He gardens, takes care of Pokemon, wise, and bakes sweet treats for all his children, human and Pokemon. He's the reverse of what NHP Ghetsis is, he's the parallel across from him, he's him but upside down

He's completely incapable of lying, literally, he physically can not lie. After all, the original palace being set ablaze could've been a cruel circumstance, but the dreamyard laboratory where N was being held hostage being set ablaze as well couldn't have been a coincidence. N had to have gotten it from somewhere, UDU Ghetsis is everything NHP Ghetsis is not. That includes everything NHP wishes he had, power, control, abilities, dragons

- 💌

i would hope so<3 i don't think any of them would tell udusis everything that went down- n would be all but incapable of recounting it and alder tries not to fully divulge stories that he doesn't consider to be his own- but he'd definitely get the gist. first and foremost through draydens "if you hurt my family (again), i have no issue in killing you" spiel, second through alders constant surveillance and questioning his motives (and i imagine he would also have no issue in threatening udusis if he really felt the need, but not only would it be far less blatant than drayden's threat, it would also be something he'd want to avoid if he could), and third through n's scars and apparent fear

as nice as it would be for udusis to adopt nat and try to fill in that void ghetsis left within her, theres probably no scenario in which she would have a healthy relationship to him. theres the unhealthy attachment yeah, but also nat is just.. way too traumatized for that to ever be a good dynamic. he'll never manage to be himself around ghetsis, good or bad, he'll always be meek, scared, and subdued. they'd be quiet and keep their head down around him, stifle any urges to stim or fidget or ramble, they'd flinch any time he so much as lifted his arm. and id imagine seeing that would kill udusis

and worst of all is, even ignoring both of those aspects, it STILL wouldn't fix the hurt n feels. because at the end of the day, even if there's nicer versions of their father out there, the one from nhps universe, their ACTUAL father, still fundamentally rejected them. chose death over them. there's nothing that can undo that

😦 HELLO?? DRAGONS? HE HAS DRAGONS OR HE IS DRAGONS

#💌 anon #natural harmonia posting #long post #unova upside down #abuse cw

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creepiefarm · 2 years ago

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CW ableism towards systems

I wanted to address this briefly, because lately I've seen far too many MH blogs spreading content that both demonizes and misrepresents OSDDID. I am a singlet, but this post was written with the help of and checked over by systems.

First and foremost please educate yourself, that is the first step and easiest way to avoid spreading blatant ableism. I will be linking some resources for that at the end of this post. Listen to systems when they tell you things are harmful or wrong.

When you see a post about OSDDID, how is it being talked about? Are they speaking positively about the disorder, or are they framing it to be "scary" or "edgy"? If the post does speak positivity about the disorders, how is it worded? How does it refer to system alters, or other parts of the disorder? Does it fall into common stereotypes, (i.e. the "evil alter") or treat it like a quirky character trait?

Now more specifically there is a post going around that made me feel there was a need to make this post. The post states you can't headcanon Tim or other characters in MH as being systems

[Image ID: Screenshot of a tumblr post that says: “okay fellas, welcome, you’re here- and before you start spreading around false stuff, here’s a few good reminders! 1. None of the characters from Marble Hornets Youtube Series have DID. Masky and Hoodie are not evil leittle creatures that live inside Tim and Brian!” end ID]

This extremely poor wording implies that, if Tim or Brian have DID, that would make Masky and Hoody evil creatures that live in their brains. Basically stating that alters are "evil", and also dehumanizing them in the process. [There are of course nonhuman alters who should be respected just as much as human alters, but that is not what op is doing by calling them "creatures."] Masky or Hoody being alters would not make them evil, there is no such thing as an "evil alter". This is one of the most widespread ableist beliefs about systems, and something that is so easy to spot.

OP received many comments on why this is gross and harmful, but chose to leave it up. They responded with an "apology" that addressed none of the issues with their statement, was very condescending and basically showed they have no idea what they're talking about.

[Image ID: screenshot of a tumblr post that says: “okay, lads. fellas. regarding my previous post, since a few people found it offensive (?) that I said none of the characters in MH have specifically DID disorder. I understand that people have their own headcanons and this is totally fine! I will not bash someone for healthily using such a hc to create a sense of comfort!

On that note, there are a select few people that I've seen in the past that romanticizes such a disorder- or make it very black n' white (aka Masky is this awful alter). Along with this, Tim canonically has psychosis, or something along the lines of this. In simple terms, romanticizing DID disorder (or any disorder)? not the best! Using such a headcanon as a sense of comfort/in a healthy fashion? totally fine! thank yew and have a good day” end ID]

If you are not well educated on a topic you do not have to speak on it. In cases like this, where I think op probably intended to help, they have instead spread gross ableism to hundreds of people. If someone is creating content that is gross and fetishizes the disorder, call them out on it. But if you have spent any good amount of time in this fandom you know most system headcanons are made by systems. It's a very weird thing to start a post for "new fans" with an ableist point about an issue you have only seen "a select few people do in the past."

[As a side note, psychosis is not a disorder, it is a symptom. And if we are going with “in canon” Tim was diagnosed with Schizophrenia.]

There is nothing inherently "romanticizing" or "unhealthy" about headcanoning any character as a system. This would not be said about headcanoning a character with depression or anxiety, and I really need you guys to sit and think about why that is. OSDDID and psychotic disorders (also mentioned by op) are notoriously demonized. And spreading posts like this without thinking absolutely adds to that.

It's so important to be able to recognize things like this for how harmful they are. It does not matter if op had other points you agreed with, or if they had good intentions. This is ableism, it's wrong, and it's hurting people.

System headcanons are good, and it's wonderful that so many systems see healthy rep in MH for their disorder. This is not and has never been the issue. Here are some links a system friend gave me that you can educate yourself with. Systems are of course, welcome to add any additional thoughts, thank you for reading.

#i am not looking to engage with op this is why i have cropped their user out. though im sure a lot of people will recognize the post #rather than engaging further w op please spread this post and delete your reblog of their post. thank you :)#ableism #tw abelism #cw abelism #ableism tw #marble hornets #creepie.txt #taps the sign

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brywrites · 4 years ago

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Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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gay-country-fangames · 4 years ago

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please lets not be shitty

tws for talk of racism, eugen/cs, n*zis, slavery, genocide, etc. read at your own risk but please be aware this message is important. so this isnt specifically related to hetagames but its related to hetalia and i think its important that everyone hear it again just to be sure. im going to shelve my rabid persona for a minute because this is super important and a super serious thing.

making hetalia OCs or 2ps or personifying characters based off of problematic time periods from their history is not okay.

some examples include: -n*zi germany this is so wrong for so many obvious reasons everyone should know by now but for the sake of the post im gonna go into detail a lilbit. so many people were killed and both physically and mentally tortured during this time period, a large group being jewish people. during this time period german schools taught eugen/cs to their children which was a h i g l y racist concept. n*zis basically hated everyone that wasnt a blonde blue eyed ‘pure blood’ german. everyone else deserved to die according to them, and thats just.... not something that you make an anime boy about? like no. please. -civil war era america/the confederacy/the confederate states of america this one some people seem to think is okay for??? some goddamn reason??? no??? okay i know a lot of non-americans might not understand what exactly the civil war was so here we go heres a very watered down explanation. once upon a time there was slavery in america. we all know that. but at one point the public opinion shifted to thinking ‘hmm, maybe slavery is actually really fukin gross and bad? hey lets pass a law to ban slavery.’ and the southern states went ‘wait no we like slavery.’ and they went and said ‘this law would violate our constitutional right to states rights. we should be able to choose whether or not each state has laws against slavery!’ which is bs by the way they just wanted to keep owning slaves but they called it a violation of states rights so they could start a war over this shit. so then the south decided to form the confederacy and then they declared war on the north to try and break away n have their ‘right’ to own slaves. by the way this wasnt just a buncha racists fighting for their right to own people a lot of them also made their slaves fight in the war. so black people were being forced to fight for their own enslavement. lovely. spoiler alert they lost hella bad and the emancipation proclamation was signed which helped pave the way for black people to be free. the confederacy through its entire short life stood for nothing but slavery and racism and that is n o t something that its okay to make an anime boy out of okay please stop this.

-Communist Russia okay look. look. stop what youre going to say and read this. okay? okay. yes i know himaruya kind of wrote about this already. no that does not make it okay. hes human just like anyone else and hes realized his problems and faults and doesnt write that shit anymore. and even if he hadnt thats no excuse. even if he had kept making it that wouldnt make it okay. creators arent perfect and everything they do isnt automatically moral. popular people do stupid insensitive shit all the time and they have to be held accountable for it. anyway if you really need to be told why communist russia isnt good ‘uwu anime boy’ fodder then you really need to read a history book. but in short; genocide. mass starvation of their own people. imperialism. etc. bad shit. lets not.

-Mafia AU Romano okay this isnt really a time period perse but it felt like it belonged on the list so i put it on. its my list i can add what i want. so anyway ive seen southern italian people express blatant discomfort with this before, and from what i remember it stems from both racism and classism to a certain extend and thats just.... uncomfy. i get the appeal of a mafia au ok some people find crime hot but if its blatantly making people uncomfortable then id suggest you stop. other peoples comfort is more important than your fanfic. just make some generic crime lord au or summ instead idk it dont have to be the mafia all the time an it dont have to be romano all the time. if anyone who has a better feel for this wants to expand on it be my guest.

anyway im sure theres many more but these are the things i see the most. feel free to rb and add your own “please dont”s to the list. an before anyone gets on me about “why is this stuff bad but things like ancient rome arent” look ancient rome did about as much bad shit as england did but we dont all cancel mister arthur monster brows do we? the difference is these examples are narrowing a character down to one specific problematic period of their history (or in the case of the mafia thing one single small problematic part of the countrys history) and ancient rome represents the entirety of the countrys existance which did more than just imperialism and murder and shit. ok mun lei out now.

#hetalia #hetagame #hetalia fangames #Hetagames #hws hetalia #aph hetalia #aph #hws

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arigatouiris · 6 years ago

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out of my league // tom holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: Hi, everyone! With how disappointed I am with Game of Thrones ending, and for my love for Tom Holland, I thought why not mix the two? So I wrote this is a sort of spur of the moment thing, where the reader is a critic and Tom Holland is well... Tom Holland. Hope ya’ll like this!

Word count: 1389

Series Masterlist

00 | 01 | 02 |

With eyes glued to the screen, her mind had already made up the words. Being a critic sometimes, was not such an easy job, but there were perks to being a critic—the fact that she could watch movies or shows a day or two prior to their official release, (this was the case, sometimes, however, she was not complaining), and also for the fact that she liked criticizing writers’ for things that they’ve gotten wrong about their own characters, or even addressing the things that she did like.

[y/n] believed she was the voice of the people, and that was the way things were. She would not change a thing about her life.

As meticulous as it would seem, [y/n] got a lot of preparation done beforehand; before she wrote a critique for a show or a movie, she’d always research and understand the writers’ ideas, the thoughts that went into making the scene, the actors’ understanding of the scene, and what she needed to focus on—even the smallest aspects such as lighting or sound or even the cinematography. Being a journalist was hard, but she understood that being a journalist that specialized in movies and anything related to the big screen, was harder.

As soon as the finale of the most acclaimed show “Birds of a Feather” was done, her phone buzzed. She knew who it was before she even saw the name on the caller ID. Birds of a Feather starred some of the biggest stars in Hollywood; it was a show about a man chasing redemption, and several other characters’ lives intertwined with his, and every choice he made echoed like a butterfly effect. What she used to love about the show was how it was never centered around one person, of how every single character was important. She loved how the show had some of the best character developments in the history of making fictional characters. However, with the final season, [y/n] was forced to change her mind.

The main character, Lionel, played by Tom Holland—loved and revered by everyone as the best Spiderman, turned out to have the best character development, only to fall short to succeeding in his character arc. The show writers’ did his character injustice by taking his life—since Lionel’s life was that of torment. With seven seasons of repeated mental massacre, Lionel deserved at least a bittersweet ending. This is like Dexter all over again, [y/n] thought rolling her eyes.

Begrudgingly, she picked the call. It was her manager, of course.

“Don’t you dare!” Her manager screeched over the phone, forcing [y/n] to pull the device away from her ears.

“Come on, you saw it. You can’t expect me to go nice on them because of Tom fucking Holland. Please. He did a great job, but the script was poor.” [y/n] scoffed as she rebutted her manager’s so called request.

“Listen, [l/n], Tom’s a nice one and we’ve not ever published anything bad about him. Remember the review you wrote for Spiderman? People adored you for it because it made them fall for Tom more! They see the truth in your words! So you’ve got to make them—”

“Got to make them what, Susannah? Got to make them like the show that the writers’ themselves couldn’t do? I cannot! I chose to become a critic because I liked giving people exactly what they wanted to hear. And for all I know, Tom Holland deserves to know what his fans think of his acting and what the fans think of the idiots who wrote his role into the dirt!” [y/n] screamed back before cutting the call.

She had decided. One more day and her review would go live.

Unlike what most people thought, Tom didn’t care much for what people thought of the show. However, when he saw the review posted by the London Daily that evening, his heart skyrocketed. He didn’t remember the name of the critic who wrote it, but he remembered that this particular place had never said anything negative about the show before. The show writer was a good friend of his, and him being called an ‘incompetent writer’ and having been accused of ‘lazy writing’ turned his mind around.

He immediately pinged his mate, Harrisson, asking him if he’d read this particular piece. A moment later, a phone call startled him. It was the show writer.

“Hey,” Tom said, not ready to talk at the moment. Tessa was on his lap and Tom had just woken up from a nap fifteen minutes prior. “What’s up?”

“Tom, this is a nightmare,” You’re telling me, he thought before holding back the smile. “You’ve got to go on Instagram and tell your fans that you support me!”

“But, Jean, this is fine, innit? It’s just a bad review. We get bad reviews for everything along with good ones—”

“No, no, no, Tom, you don’t understand. This is [y/n] [l/n]! Her words are the truth!” Tom wanted to scoff, but didn’t. “Whatever she says, the fans agree with. It’s not as if the fans don’t have a brain of their own, it’s just that she’s very good with words. So far, she’s been a great fan of our show but with the finale and everything, she’s seen and taken note of a few things that I might not agree with and I—”

“Jean, you’re ranting again, I can’t really follow.” Tom spoke, apologetically.

“Tom. [y/n] cannot be ignored. You’ve got to make a statement saying that this isn’t lazy writing and that a lot of thought went into this ending.”

But, did it though? Tom thought, before agreeing. It’d be blatant betrayal if he disagreed with the writer. Even if he didn’t see the ending coming, even if Tom himself was a tad bit displeased with the ending Lionel received, there was no way he’d admit it. Signing, he took his phone out in his hands and opened Instagram. Oh, well. Tom thought before getting into the act.

“Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the love and appreciation that you guys have shown throughout these seven seasons, it’s been great and I couldn’t do it without any of your support! And I understand if some of you might be displeased with the ending that Lionel’s got, but let me tell you this that a lot of thought has gone behind making this show and there’s no sign of lazy writing or incompetence from anyone’s side. It hurts my feelings to see words being spewed everywhere about the same by a critic who specializes in finding out what’s wrong in movies or shows. I’d really appreciate it if you guys don’t take into account bad reviews that can sway your mind. I love you all and I thank you again! Bye!”

God, that took the life out of me, he thought before sighing. His phone buzzed and Tom noticed Harrison’s name on the ID.

“Hey,” Tom said, laying back on his couch. “What’s—”

“I can’t help but agree with her, man.” Harrison’s voice alerted him.

“What?” Tom frowned. He hadn’t read the entire review, but he understands a bad review when he sees the title itself.

“Hm, you see, bud. Her points make sense. Some of the moments that led to Lionel’s ending don’t even add up. If you go through what she says—”

“It doesn’t matter now, Haz. Whatever the review says, I’ve gotta stay true to what I’ve acted as—”

“What did you do?”

Sometimes, it irked him with how well Harrison knew Tom.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, patting Tessa on her head.

“I know when you’ve read a review and disagree. You’re not disagreeing here. What did you do?”

“I might have listened to Jean and said on my Instagram that the review is bullshit.”

“Tom, you did not.”

“I sort of—”

“Do you even know who [y/n] [l/n] is?”

“Uh, yeah. She’s the critic who wrote the bad review—”

“No, you twat. She’s the best critic for TV shows and movies in all of England. And most of her work is online, too. Seeing how you’ve tarnished her name on the internet might not go so well for her.”

“Uh…” Tom didn’t understand.

“Tom, you might as well have kissed her online career goodbye.”

#tom holland #tom hollander #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic

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pjmnns · 6 years ago

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Golden

You are an assassin. A little girl has come up to you, handed you all her pocket money, and asked you to kill her abusive relative.

Assassin!AU, Doctor!AU // angst, fluff, crack (?)

Pairing: Reader X Jungkook

Rating: M (mentions of abuse and alcoholism)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, alcoholism, drugs, and assassination

Word Count: 2k-ish

>> Prologue

The night wind blew through your hair as you sat perched atop the city’s skyline, the lookout spot above the horizon as the darkness of the night looms over the settling cityscape.

You swing your legs over the edge and let them hang, the rubber sole of your leather boots creating a soft drumming against the cold concrete, the same cold solidity that your fingers feel as you revel in the moment leaned back.

Bending down to collect your sniper, your steady hands rest easy on the gun, fingers not reaching for the trigger this time.

As you peer through the scope which begins to trail through the city, your sight lands on a still but small, delicate frame. You take a moment to focus once more, as your breath stills and gaze deepens.

Standing there, in the middle of the sidewalk amidst the bustling of people and fluorescent lighting is a little girl. Beanie pulled down, escaped hair fluttering in the wind, hands clutching at the open edges of her padded jacket, looking right towards you, right into the end of your sniper.

Taken aback, you break your gaze and your focus, yet all your thoughts are possessed by the fragile figure who caught your scoping.

Choosing to look again, you roam the city and see her there once more, same small frame, same solid stance against the bitter cold.

Despite the chilling wind, however, the edges of the girl’s mouth begins to lift, a soft grin broken by the widest, dazzling smile you had ever seen. The sight almost makes you mirror a smile unconsciously, almost.

As you continue watching her, your eyes trained on her but apparently hers on you as well, she lifts an arm and waves at you?

Her small hand is motioning for you to come down but again you’re taken aback and physically furrow your brows.

What the—

As you slowly let down your sniper, your sight now raw and unconcealed by the deadly weapon, you realize the girl had left and the busy sidewalk now remains barren of the small figure.

Quickly you pack your gun into your bag and swing it over your shoulder, opting to leave via fire escape, quickly skipping steps on your descent as you are somehow still left in confusion and just a little bit of bafflement.

Nothing midnight coffee can’t fix.

Slowing your pace as you enter into the public eye, pacing yourself as any other normal person would on the streets, you reach your favorite cafe that catered to your midnight tendencies.

Waiting in line, you attempt to cease all thoughts of the little girl, silencing all thoug— a little tug at your jacket sleeve. Peering down you realize it's the same little girl with her beanie pulled down and rambunctious flyaways.

Her bright big doe-eyes look up at you, admiration in her gaze yet also burning with fire and determination, her fingers still pinching at your jacket.

Her voice is small at first but as she tip-toes towards your ear, you make out her simple request:

“Can you kill someone for me?”

It’s not the first time you’ve had those very words spoken to you. But from a little girl, the first, yes.

As you slowly straighten, you realize it's your turn to order. Approaching the counter, you’re wary that the girl follows you and attempting to act like you usually would you place your order.

“Anything else for you tonight?”

“Uh no that’ll be all— did you want something?” Gesturing at the little girl who was still at your side. She slowly shakes her head but you go ahead and order her a small hot chocolate anyway, the smallest of smiles tugging at her mouth. Cute.

You settle at a small booth near the back of the coffee shop despite the blatant lack of any other customers. As the little girl settles in her seat, her hands begin fumbling at her pockets before putting thin, crumpled pieces of cash and loose change onto the table. She feels for all the places that could’ve possibly housed money as you look on silently. When she finishes, she pushes every wrinkled bill and lackluster coin towards you before whispering a small “Can you please do it?”

Trying hard not to display any astonishment you feel or curiosity that lingers your thoughts, you observe the little girl that sits before you.

Her eyes are bright and round, framed by long dark set eyebrows. Her eyes themselves are so captivating, burning with bright innocence yet there is a shadow that looms over the brilliance; but still there remains a fighting resilience as if there had been too many nights those eyes could not stop crying but even more nights fighting to hold in tears.

You notice the way she sits: a little too closed in, a little too withdrawn as if she’s defending herself from the world.

As much as you attempt to fight back the urge, the thought pushes through and you realize that she reminds you of someone a little too much. She reminds you of yourself.

“What’s your name?”

“Ara. What’s your name?”

Finally the little girl and her antics get to you as you finally show your surprise. A little taken aback, you realize no client had ever asked for your name before. Wary of the consequences of telling the little girl your name, you choose to anyway because for some reason, you want to earn her trust.

“Y/n. So Ara, tell me, what is this job about?”

For the first time tonight, you notice her confidence falter and she breaks her stare from you. Weakly, she looks up and begins her story, looking at you fearfully yet earnestly.

Ara’s parents both died in a car accident when she was only six, being left to be placed in a distant relative’s home. Though hopeful at first, finally having a familial place to go to after being left with a desolate hole in her small heart, her tiny heart becomes more shattered. The relative turns out to be an abusive alcoholic who wants nothing to do with the young girl, spending sober days assailing her with toxic words and mental stress; drunk nights physically lashing out. For years Ara endured the abuse, not believing in the fact that she deserved the mistreatment but rather choosing to seek the golden end of her misfortune, choosing to endure and wait for her own happiness. “I believed that if I could handle this, only good things will come to me later… but good things still haven’t come yet.” Her eyes look down, finally being drowned by the hopelessness and despair that she had to face for too long.

She fought for too long. Closing your eyes and releasing a shaky breath, you collect the money.

You reach for her hands tenderly and press the money into them.

“Keep it Ara. You will need it to start your new life.”

She silently gasps and stuffs her money back into her pockets before taking your hands again and caressing them into her warm cheeks. You finally break a smile and can’t help but dissolve in the moment.

Before she leaves, you press a napkin into her hands with your private number, reminding her to call you after school on the third day of the following week. As she nods to display her understanding, you begin to walk away. After a few steps, you feel small arms encircling your waist and realize that Ara ran after you to hug you. Smiling again, you take her arms and spin around, kneeling to her height. Pulling her beanie down more, you whisper “Take care Ara” into the silence of the night.

On the third day of the following week, you silently slip into the dilapidated apartment that Ara had given you the address to. The strong scent of alcohol lingers in the stale air, evidence of the smell litters across the floor, an innumerable amount of bottles strewn everywhere. Your face scrunches in disgust as you realize the world that Ara had to live in— the shadows and filth that she is surrounded by, trading her dreams for the security of each further moment she spends here. You wonder how she hasn’t crashed and burned, despising the place that was supposed to be filled with renewed hope and love. As you walk deeper into the apartment, you notice a door slightly ajar. Peering inside, you realize it as Ara’s room; a clean and organized space, making the most of the window that overlooked the city skyline just like what you love to live smiling to yourself.

Hearing the slam of a door, you snap out of the moment and push yourself against the wall, slowing your breath and reaching behind your back for the pistol that is tucked into your waistband.

As you move out of Ara’s room, ghosting the wall, you notice the man that had burned Ara’s hopes and dreams of love, of family.

Continuing to observe his movements, he sets down a parcel and rips it open, its contents spilling out. You focus your sight and realize that the bastard was dealing drugs. Taking another, smaller parcel, he slips it into one of Ara’s backpacks and the moment of realization hit: he was using Ara as a drug mule… now it made complete sense as of she needed a way out.

Silently, you move out from the shadows and walk behind the bastard. Placing the barrel of the pistol gingerly against his occipital, your finger lingers over the trigger.

“She deserved better and you know that.”

Click. His body crumples to the ground, cold, dead, and gone.

You tuck the pistol back into your waistband and gather all of Ara’s things, taking any and every trace of her existence in this wretched place. Leaving the apartment, you know that if any suspicions were to arise, it would be related to drugs and the people behind them, the life that Ara saved herself from.

Later that day, your phone rings. The strange number with no caller ID, being one of few people who have it. As you pick up, you hear the familiar, resilient tone across the line,

“Hi y/n. I’m ready.”

After a 14-hour shift in the emergency room, Jungkook unlocks the apartment doors and throws his keys on the counter. The lights are on which means you must be home early and the room smells oddly refreshing. Not that your home didn't usually smell nice, the air just felt different and Jungkook made a note of that.

As he makes his way to the living room, he stops as he notices you cleaning a pistol familiar thing and showing the ins and outs of it to a small girl not familiar thing. Looking up you grin sheepishly as his eyes move between you, the gun, and the little girl. His mouth opens to speak but closes as his hand slowly raises and points towards your room, cocking his head quizzically while his eyebrows crease.

“I’ll be right back okay Ara. As soon as we’re done I’ll introduce you to this handsome man.” Giving a wink to the little girl, you stand and ruffle her hair, her response being a small giggle which blooms in your chest. As you follow jungkook into the room and close the door behind you, you turn to face a very confused yet sassy jungkook with hands on either side of his hips.

“Y/n explain. Please.”

Spending the next ten-minutes, you rapid-fire explain to your boyfriend the entire situation, making sure to pout as you detail the shitty life that she’s endured thus far and adding in the small quips that you’ve managed to notice about the little girl to him. Your entire spiel ends with a deep intake of oxygen as you step closer and earnestly ask him: “Can we please keep her? Please?”

Jungkook fights back a grin as his brows raise at your diligence, something he’s always admired. He pulls you in closer by your shoulders and engulfs you in a tight hug, not even trying to suppress his face-shitting smile.

“Y’know when I said I wanted to start a family with you, this wasn’t what I meant.”

As he pulls you away and stands with his arms around your waist, he looks into your eyes and you know that he knows how much Ara means to you now, and you realize that he’s willing to share that special place in your heart.

The two of you move to leave the room, but not until Jungkook whispers into your ear, his hot breath fanning over the nape of your neck, “You better make her the best goddamn assassin in this city y/n.”

“Hell yeah babe.”

—

Hi everyone!! I hope you enjoyed this fic! I am an absolute sucker for assassin!AU’s, especially badass female assassins. Stop by my inbox and ask me anything and everything or even just to talk,, I’m thinking about writing another part for this just because I didn’t get enough Jungkook in !! But thanks for reading xx

#bts #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts ff #fluff #angst #bts rm #bts jin #bts suga #bts jhope #bts jimin #bts v #bts taehyung #rm #suga #jhope #jimin #v #jin

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johnnymundano · 6 years ago

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Rolling Thunder (1977)

Directed by John Flynn

Screenplay by Paul Schrader and Heywood Gould

Music by Barry De Vorzon

Country: United States

Running Time: 95 minutes

CAST

William Devane as Major Charles Rane

Tommy Lee Jones as Sergeant Johnny Vohden

Linda Haynes as Linda Forchet

James Best as The Texan

Dabney Coleman as Maxwell

Luke Askew as Automatic Slim

Lawrason Driscoll as Deputy Cliff Nichols

Lisa Blake Richards as Janet Rane

Randy Hermann as Billy Sanchez

James Victor as Lopez

Charles Escamilla as T-Bird

Pete Ortega as Melio

Cassie Yates as Candy

Jordan Gerler as Mark

Jacque Burandt as Bebe

Paul A. Partain as Ethan

James N. Harrell as Grandpa

(Guilt Trauma: I was to busy flashbacking to The Shit to take screengrabs, so IMDB got robbed for ‘em.)

Rolling Thunder is a good example of what happens when you make a Paul Schrader movie from a Paul Schrader script after rewriting it without Paul Schrader. Instead of a nuanced, multi-faceted portrait of a fractured time and a fractured man, like, say, Taxi Driver (1976), American Gigolo (1980) or First Reformed (2017), you get a fun exploitation flick that errs on the side of rightwingery. Luckily, the only thing in rightwingery’s favour is that it makes for fun movies. Dirty Harry (1971), for example is great. I particularly enjoy winding up rightwingers by telling them that Harry throws his badge away at the end because he has failed the system, not because the system has failed him. (You can make their veins really throb by pointing out that he endangers an entire school bus of kids. Never mind his peeping at “Hot Mary”.) It’s kind of the same way that Steve Ditko’s humourless Objectivist planks make great comic book characters but would make horrific people. Rightwingery is basically quick-fix cartoon shit masquerading as real world politics. And although that makes for shitty politics, luckily, quick-fix cartoon shit is right in that sweet, sweet spot for vigilante thrillers. (Other opinions are available.)

Basically Rolling Thunder is a cracking vigilante thriller, as long as we all understand it has no tangible relationship with reality, and is taken purely as an entertainment in the impotent white male revenge fantasy mode. The impotent white male revenge fantasy is a surprisingly fecund genre, and yet I still encounter a remarkable amount of resistance to its adoption as a category in HMV. Horror, Romantic Comedies, Science Fiction, Impotent White Male Revenge Fantasies…what’s up with that? Why don’t you reply to my emails, HMV? I’ll not list the many, many examples of cinematic impotent white male revenge fantasies, but I will note their irresistible allure. Being only human I’m sure we all have our favourites when it comes to impotent white male revenge fantasies; Rolling Thunder is one of mine.

It’s 1973 and PoWs Major Charles Rane (William Devane; ultra-stoic) and Sergeant Johnny Volden (Tommy Lee Jones; quietly unhinged) come marching home to San Antonio after 7 years as unwilling guests of the Vietnamese. Rane’s manhood is almost immediately trampled by the realisation that his wife, Janet (Lisa Blake Richards; trying hard with very little) has taken up with Cliff (amiably out of his depth) and his son doesn’t remember him. Rane starts living in the shed out back and readopts his prison regime, in order to cope with his emotional pain. In a loaded exchange Rane attempts to reassert his masculinity and informs Cliff that you survive by “learning to love the rope”. Cliff is a cop but (obviously) less of a man than Rane because he didn’t go to Vietnam and get tortured for 7 years. Like Rane, (like America? Huh? Huh?) the town can’t let his past go, and a celebration is held for him at which Rane monosyllabically accepts 2,555 silver dollars – one for every day he was a captive plus one for luck, and a big red Cadillac, which is definitely not a phallic symbol, nope.

Also present is Linda (Linda Haynes; really good, actually) who has worn Rane’s ID bracelet throughout his imprisonment as a kind of symbolic gesture; returning the bracelet it’s obvious Linda will be trying to do something less symbolic with Rane given the opportunity. Although Rane’s virility has been besieged, in impotent white male revenge movies young women always find this astonishingly attractive; they are driven to seek to heal the male wound with their pliant young bodies. This in no way should be taken as a male wish fulfilment fantasy, obviously. Rane’s virility is further eroded when he returns home to find a bunch of uninvited redneck goons, who proceed to torture him in order to get his silver dollars. During this sequence there is a fantastically blatant symbolic castration, but Rane’s emasculation is not complete until his family return and the horror of civilian life finally exceeds that of Rane’s confinement. After that Rane’s on the vengeance trail and the therapeutic value of murdering low-life scumbags is once more attested to. (Note: whorehouse shootouts are not a therapy endorsed by the American Association of Psychiatrists).

Rolling Thunder is fucking bullshit obviously, but it’s a movie so that’s okay. In fact, it’s kind of the whole point. Catharsis isn’t just for horror flicks, you feel me? It’s well done bullshit though; supremely entertaining action antics. The cast are utterly committed, with Devane particularly fine at suggesting the violence beneath his placid exterior, Lee Jones ricocheting nicely between catatonic acceptance of normal life and puppyish enthusiasm for the opportunity to kill again, while Linda Haynes makes far more of the part of Linda than it really deserves. Flynn’s direction is unfussy stuff and, far too many shots of shotgun smashed bottles in the hectic finale aside, he captures a butchly efficient Don Siegel vibe. Every now and again, through the melodrama and bloodshed, glimpses of a better, deeper movie surface. Particularly in the hilarious scene in which Rane visits Vohden at home; Vohden sitting like a golem in the midst of his family’s hellishly inconsequential jabbering. Rolling Thunder is a fun movie but it’s not to be mistaken for reality and it’s certainly not subtle. But then no one ever said “subtle as thunder” did they now?

#Rolling Thunder #Movies #Action #Impotent White Male Revenge Fantasies #Paul Schrader #John Flynn #William Devane #Tommy Lee Jones #Linda Haynes #1977 #The 1970s #Machismo

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rebelthroughreading-blog · 6 years ago

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My Friend Dahmer by Derf Backderf

A man takes a long look back at high school, a true time when he knew and was friends with a teenage Jeffery Dahmer.

Quick Information

price: $19.99

number of pages: 224

ISBN: 978-1419702174

publisher and date: Harry N. Abrams, 2012

author’s website: http://www.derfcity.com/

genre: juvenile graphic novel, non-fiction, autobiography

main subjects: comic, graphic novel, serial killer, high school students

Plot

Derf Backderf, then John Backderf, writes of a time when he was in high school and knew Jeffery Dahmer, before he was a famous serial killer. He takes his readers back to those days in hopes of seeing the disturbed teenager and the context of his life and perhaps of finding an explanation for the terrible deeds Dahmer would commit in the future.

Who’s reading it?

Written on a much lower level than those who may be interested, teenagers in later high school (grades 10-12) may find this intriguing and somewhat disturbing tale more appealing than those younger (grades 7-10).

Why did I read it?

Graphic novels are rising as a more prominent medium for reading for young adults, especially for those who are afraid of the “bigger books” with many pages and chapters. The idea of looking at pictures and reading dialogue can be less threatening. However, those pictures and dialogue can have just as much depth and story than any chapter book. Sometimes, the graphic novel can explain more than a book full of only words, often because of the addition of pictures and visuals.

As someone who was not alive during Dahmer’s killings, learning about something so gruesome and terrible is easier through a less serious medium. By that, I mean cartoon like illustrations and the safety of fiction between me, the reader, and reality, the fact that this all actually happened. On top of that, we do not often see the perspective of the serial killer when discussing things that actually happened. Backderf created a graphic novel to show what he saw as a high school student going to classes with a weird boy who would eventually become a monster. I wanted to know if readers were going to see a novel about a man who regretted not putting together clues in time to save people. I wanted to know why Dahmer’s high school years were important enough for someone to write about them.

Evaluation

Jeffery Dahmer, like all men who choose to murder, has become a terrifying monster in the heads of many people. He committed irreprehensible acts, ones that could never be forgiven, so the idea that a man would write about a time before the murder and necrophilia in a way that almost takes Dahmer’s side is almost unbelievable. But, hold up a second, that’s not exactly what that is. Sure, Backderf shows a sympathetic side of Dahmer’s story, however, he makes it clear that he has his reasons.

Backderf wanted to give some backstory and provide what he sees a bit of reasoning behind the monstrous reality of the serial killer. He does not necessarily want to take all blame away from him nor does he want to reason away what Dahmer did, but he finds it important to explain what he saw and knew about Dahmer’s life previously to show that there was a before, and certain events may have made a difference in the way that Dahmer would later live his life.

Through several instances of weirdness and almost comedic behavior, Dahmer is portrayed as a strange teenager with serious problems that everyone avoided instead of attempting to remedy. He makes weird sounds, acts comically weird for his friends’ enjoyment, and continues to be just a weird guy at all times.

Graphic novels are some of the most appealing forms of literature, especially for younger audiences, such as those in high school. Like I said earlier, I read this because of the scary story told in a less scary medium. Graphic novels are a wonderful medium to get someone like a high schooler to read something like this. Backderf’s choice to use his artistic abilities in this way give his readers a more complete view of Backderf’s own memories of the world at the time. He draws in a cartoon like style, which is important, because that is how he remembers Dahmer. He remembers the weird guy who was like a cartoon all of the time. If he drew any more realistically, the effect would not have been as great in the end when the author realizes that Dahmer was not a joke but very real.

Backderf poses some interesting questions that could potentially create huge problems. Is this Dahmer’s fault? Could anyone have stopped him? Could anyone have acted differently and changed the course of Dahmer’s life? Were there enough signs for people to have noticed before? He answers known of them, because that is not the purpose of this story. This autobiography is more like a case study of a strange boy with a difficult childhood who grew to be a monstrous adult. The author’s questions are for the readers to consider for the rest of life, not necessarily for this one. We cannot change the past, so look at the present and see if we can use this information to change the future.

The issues

The issues with My Friend Dahmer are far more complicated than a list of the generic ones (i.e. bullying, inappropriate language, sexual content, etc.). Instead, we see a story that almost forgives a serial killer of his terrible acts because of his difficult childhood and lack of help when he so desperately needed it.

Backderf portrays himself as kind of mean along with his other friends. They thought teenage Jeffery Dahmer was strange and sad and only acted like his friend when they wanted something from him like when they thought it would be hilarious for Dahmer to act out at a mall and scare everyone. They used him.

The author is sympathetic to Dahmer, a troubled kid with a troubled upbringing. He blames everyone else for what is happening to Dahmer. The parents’ messy break-up and then blatant ignoring him, teachers and workers at the school not noticing his behavior or the fact that he not only drank but came in with such great stench that people anywhere near him were put off. Backderf even asks the question “Where were the adults?” (p. 66-67) effectively blaming them for not taking the time to notice something that could have saved lives later. The audience feels as though they have to be on Dahmer’s side despite knowing the outcome of the story before it begins.

So why should be read it?

Backderf is not telling the audience to feel sorry for Dahmer and forgive him of his sins, because no one noticed that he was acting strangely. He is not saying that the adults are completely at fault, because they did not notice that he skipped class and came in inebriated and smelling like he was made of alcohol. He is suggesting that the events of his past contributed to what Dahmer would become, and that looking back, readers can see those things that suggested that something was wrong - the drinking, the divorce, the odd behavior, the vibe - and consider that for other situations as well.

How can we use it?

Other than using it as a case study to use in the future when look at other kids who may have troubled backgrounds and need help, it is good for everyone to see that things do happen, and sometimes that is because they have had many other challenges lead up to a breaking point. Dahmer always had that daydream of corpses he mutilated, but with help, his victims could have been saved. Children do not always know how to handle their inner conflicts nor do they know how to ask for help. As long as we try to notice, it is better than ignoring things that we have seen.

The book is also a great representation of the autobiographical graphic novel. Biographies and autobiographies, like all nonfiction, are not as popular with young adults. They view the genres as boring and even tedious. Backderf writes a true story in an interesting way that makes it feel more like fiction, which appeals to more people. Even if the story is not favored among teens, it is a good introduction to the genre and suggests that readers try other stories like it.

Booktalk Ideas

The narrator shows a more understanding perspective to the Jeffrey Dahmer story. Having seen some of the background, is Dahmer a character for which someone should feel sorry? Does Backderf give Dahmer too much sympathy?

Backderf discusses the question people ask about why he and his friends never spoke up, and instead, he deflects the question with generalities of being unaware kids and then immediately begging what he thinks was the more important question: Where were the adults (Backderf 66 and 67)? He goes on to mention everything that adults did or did not do such as his parents not noticing his problems, no adult at the school noticing his drinking problems or his weird behavior, the adults at the mall not stopping him. Is Backderf deflecting the blame or is he simply trying to find a reason that no one noticed before?

What else can I read?

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

Maus by Art Spiegelman

Smile by Raina Telgemeier

Awards and Lists

NATIONAL BESTSELLER

2013 ALA/YALSA Alex Award

2014 Revelation Award at Angoulême

2015 ALA/YALSA Alex Award (Excellence in Narrative Nonfiction)

BEST OF 2012 by Time, The Village Voice, A.V. Club, comiXology, Boing Boing, Publishers Weekly, and MTV Geek

Professional Reviews

Martha Cornog (2012), Library Journal - http://web.a.ebscohost.com.libaccess.sjlibrary.org/ehost/detail/detail?vid=2&sid=d6633867-86f9-4d8b-8d45-1ddb488259b4%40sdc-v-sessmgr01&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZSZzY29wZT1zaXRl#AN=75327065&db=a9h

No author (2012), Publishers Weekly - http://go.galegroup.com.libaccess.sjlibrary.org/ps/i.do?&id=GALE|A276437030&v=2.1&u=csusj&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w

#derf backderf #graphic novel #autobiography #autobio comics #comic #serial killer #murder #dahmer #jeffrey dahmer #my friend dahmer #alcohol #divorce #high school #young adult #YA #male main character

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touristguidebuzz · 8 years ago

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How to Visit Paris on a College Budget

Whether you’re a student studying abroad, or simply an avid TPG reader who’s taken advantage of one of those amazing fare sales to Europe we’ve been seeing recently, Paris is a hot destination. Between the flights, hotels and transportation around the city — oh, and don’t forget the food and drinks — costs can add up pretty quickly. Here, I’ll share several tricks I used while I was studying in Paris for 10 weeks that helped me make sure I was able to do everything I wanted without breaking the bank, as well as a few places that are definitely worth your money.

Start Saving as Soon as You Arrive in Paris

Paris has one of the most thorough subway systems of any major city. 16 Metro lines connect to five RER commuter lines and nine light-rail tram lines, making every block of the city easily accessible via public transit. The paper tickets you can buy at any station are easy to lose and confusingly priced, but if you plan ahead and order a Navigo Pass, you’ll watch your savings rack up — you can put an unlimited one-week pass on this plastic, chip-enabled card for just 22.15 euros (~$23). As a point of comparison, my friend who didn’t have a Navigo Pass spent more than 40 euros (~$42) on Metro tickets over the course of the five days he was there. Just don’t forget that trains stop running around 1:00am, so make sure you have a plan to get home if you’re staying out late, or else you’ll end up emptying your wallet for a cab! And if you do use the paper tickets, don’t toss them out once you’re past the turnstiles — some stations require you to use them to leave as well as enter.

With 30 lines to choose from, you’ll find zipping around Paris to be quite convenient. Image courtesy of the Régie Autonome des Transports Parisiens.

Meet the Store That Made Coming Back to the US Nearly Impossible

Fancy meals are fun, and you should take every opportunity to try the exquisite Parisian cuisine. But that doesn’t mean you need to spend big every time you get hungry. Enter Lidl, the German grocery chain that turned into my second home during my study-abroad program in Paris. The ability to buy a week’s worth of groceries for the equivalent of $25 was amazing, but I was usually content to pick up a fresh baguette and a few pastries for about 50 cents each, maybe a one-euro (~$1) bottle of wine and call it a day. It gets the job done, and you’ll learn pretty quickly that there’s no such thing as bad bread in Paris.

Stay tuned: European discount grocery chain Lidl is set to open its first US location in 2018. Let’s just pray they bring the baguettes with them. Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

Why Spend $50 on a Steak When You Can Spend $20 for Two?

People give me a funny look when I tell them that my favorite steak place in the world is a Parisian chain restaurant with only one item on the menu, steak frites. But how much do I love Le Relais de l’Entrecote? Enough that I went back to Paris this summer just for a steak — or at least that’s what I told my waitress. Sometimes the best food is the simplest. You walk in, sit down and the server will simply ask you how you want it cooked. There are no menus to distract you, just a wine list — I highly recommend the Relais house label — service is faster than you can imagine and they’ll break out a glorious plate of steak frites covered in a delicious green butter sauce. Wonderful, right?

Sorry to spoil the surprise, but just when you think it’s done, there’s more. Instead of clearing your empty plate, the waitress will bring out the second half of the steak that they’ve been keeping warm for you back in the kitchen. That’s right, 20 euros buys you two full steak dinners for the price of one. Want a drink after dinner? Of course you do, it’s Paris! While it may not be the cheapest place around, stop by La Coupole right across the street from Le Relais de l’Entrecote on Boulevard Montparnasse. Over the years, this bar-turned-restaurant has served as a watering hole for some of the most famous European writers and artists of all time, including Albert Camus, Salvador Dalí, Pablo Picasso and Jean-Paul Sartre, to name a few.

Meet the Green Fairy

And speaking of famous European artists… So poorly understood by those who’ve never tried it — thanks to the fact that it was long illegal in the US and much of Europe — absinthe is more readily available in Paris. While many places will tout their absinthe cocktails, it’s best experienced by itself. Only a handful of bars serve it the correct way, with a slotted spoon and sugar cube cradled under a tediously slow drip of ice water to create the perfect drink. A few blocks from the Bastille metro stop in the heart of one of the city’s best bar districts, Le Fee Verte will give you the authentic experience you deserve — you can even grab a quick dinner at any of the nearby restaurants and keep hopping around the neighborhood if you’d like. This is the perfect place to start or end your night, or else makes a great stop in the middle of it.

What do Marilyn Manson, Oscar Wilde, and Vincent van Gogh all have in common? A deep, deep, deep love of absinthe. Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

The Champ De Mars Will Entertain You for Free

I don’t blame you if you’re standing at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower thinking, “What could I possibly do to save money here?” Aside from scoring a student discount, for which you’d need either an EU passport or a Parisian student ID, there’s not much to it other than buying your ticket and going up to the top. But less than 100 feet from one of the largest tourist traps in the world is my favorite spot in the city. Grab a bottle of wine and a blanket and find a spot on the giant National Mall-like grassy field that stretches southeast from the tower (i.e., the Champ de Mars). Here’s the trick: Dozens of vendors will be wandering around selling wine and beer, and while a 10-euro (~$10) bottle of French wine might sound like a steal to an American tourist, it’s a blatant ripoff in Paris — you can stop by a Lidl store (mentioned above) before you go, or really any other grocery store, and buy 10 bottles for the same price (although if you’re going to do that, I’d suggest sharing).

I’ll take this view over the one from the top any day. Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

No Trip to Paris Would Be Complete Without a Crepe

Or a galette, if you prefer savory to sweet. While there are hundreds of stands ands carts making fresh crepes around the city, the best one I’ve ever had is from a little place housed under a small, nondescript brown awning right next to the Cité Internationale Universitaire de Paris. (If you’ve ever studied in Paris, you’ll be familiar with this collection of international dorms that provide cheap housing to foreign students, and if you haven’t, it’s three stops on the RER B line from the Luxembourg Gardens.)

What really sets these crepes apart is the people who make them. Grab a steaming cup of spiced tea on the house while you wait for your food, and strike up a conversation. Over the 10 weeks that I was fortunate enough to live right next to this stand, I watched the owners help a man fix his bike after it was hit by a car, assist my friend in replacing his phone after it was stolen and find complete strangers places to stay during their travels throughout Europe. It’s easy to see how genuine they are, which is why when I was lucky enough to go back to Paris this summer, my first point of business off the plane — yes, at 8:00am — was a crepe there. Once you grab your food, walk back across the street and check out Parc Montsouris behind the train station. It’s an incredibly underrated patch of greenery, complete with running tracks, a beautiful pond, and plenty of space to relax and step back from the hustle and bustle of the city, if only for a minute.

Do Me a Favor, Would You?

I have a pretty convoluted relationship with the city of Paris. While my program was eye-opening in ways I’m still only beginning to understand, it also coincided with one of the worst terrorist attacks Europe has ever seen. When it was time for me to come home just a few weeks later, the city was still in a state of limbo and I didn’t know if things were going to return to normal or if fear and hatred would fill the void. And while time has done wonders to heal the physical and emotional wounds that were inflicted that day, there’s still a long way to go. So whether this is your first time visiting this magical city, or like me, it feels more like you’re going home than going on vacation, go out of your way to spread some kindness. Do a good deed, help a stranger, buy a homeless child a meal. The city needs more love, and so does the world.

Do you have any tips for saving money in Paris? Let us know, below.

Featured image courtesy of AleksandarNakic via Getty Images.

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