#nothing makes you more aware of how violent the Internet is than when someone who isn't chronically online tells you (visibly shaken)

[runespoor7]

people pretending there's no difference between hyperviolent cyber harassment and saying "fuck" 🥰

people really think bullying, suicide baiting, and physical threats are legitimate rights.

Tomska going hard on Twitter again.

[vlerian-root]

PMDD + transitioning

I don't know how to write this in a more poetic manner, but I would like to put some words out of my head and into (virtual) paper. Being trans has saved my life

Quite literally! I have a medical condition called PMDD, that has been undiagnosed for 17 years. It is a neurological sensitivity to changes in levels of estrogen in the blood. There is documentation out there, don't believe anything that says "it's like bad pms". It has nothing to do with pms. This is your brain being "allergic" to you getting your period, and causing havoc on any and all brain functions - like a russian roulette! It can affect your mood (in a good and bad way, usually very extreme), leaving you suicidal, violent, nonverbal, manic... It can be very painful - and not just in your head, with the typical migraines that last for days, but also on the rest of your body, or localized areas. I used to not be able to move my legs for days at a time. "Just pms" my ass. It can affect your memory. Long and short term memory, some parts of mine are just gone. Erased. Not coming back. They are big chunks too. It can affect you psychologically, in all the fun flavors that can have, like paranoia, obsession, depression, hypomania, dissociation... This usually lasts up to 10 days and ends when you get your period. Which is a hell of its own, so I have lost half of my time for the last few years, when it started getting really bad. It only got diagnosed for me when my psychologist noticed a pattern of me getting really bad every month around the same time. He assumed I knew this. I did not. Nobody had every mentioned PMDD, I didn't know it existed.

But here is where we get to the good part. I was in medical psychological therapy for something unrelated (OCPD, a personality disorder, although most of the symptoms got really bad with PMDD), and the psychiatrist assigned to me is an expert in this matter. He talked to me about the research he had done, and the research I had done while obsessively browsing the internet for any morsel of info I could get. So far any medical treatments had been from ineffective to making things a lot worse, so I needed to talk to someone who knew their stuff. And he did! But we found that since this is your body being "allergic" to a thing it naturally produces, and will continue to produce for at least another 20ish years, the best treatment was to stop that cycle. I had tried this before with my gyno. This went terribly bad. Twice. Or rather, it went great for 3 months, then worse than ever after that, and it became the new normal. It was hell. I was at a point where I couldn't have any sort of normal life. Half the time I would make projects and live happily by myself, and the other half I needed help to even walk to the bathroom because my head was about to explode, my legs didn't work, I wanted to jump out of a window, and I forgot about all my deadlines. Oh, and the muscle spasms that looked almost like seizures. This shit had cost me 90% of my social life, all of my professional life, and was now simply trying to take my life.

BUT!!! Did you know that if you remove the ovaries, the estrogen blood levels stop rising and falling? Did you know that triggers premature menopause? Did you know that testosterone is a very effective treatment of the side effects of menopause?

That was my whole approach, and my brilliant psychiatrist agreed it was a good one. To this day, he has been the only person to not question this decision even if it's pretty radical. He's the only one that has understood there is no sense in asking someone whose brain is killing them from the inside "are you sure you want to do that? you won't be able to turn back!". I'm aware you can't put the ovaries back in. But they are. Killing me. Driving me insane. Please.

It took me ages to find a doctor that would even contemplate doing this (quite simple) surgery. Every single one of them used the "but you are a woman of childbearing age, I can't do this in good faith" argument. Or the "I don't know about PMDD so I think you are lying" covered in sugary lies approach. It was hell.

In the end, I have gotten the surgery. I no longer have overies. I'm writing this weeks after it, and I can assure whoever is reading this that I no longer suffer - or will suffer - from PMDD ever again. Writing that feels so liberating... The kicker is that I wouldn't have been able to access any of this if I wasn't trans. Because PMDD is so badly researched and documented that even the doctors that specialize in the organs it affects think it's "bad pms". I had to say "but I am a trans man, this is very dysphoric". Then, and only then, would they give me T. I am not a trans man, just transmasc. I wanted to get healthy before transitioning, because it's not very great to be in an unstable mental state to handle the tsunami of changes and their (sometimes social) repercussions that come with it. But irony of ironies, the cure for 90% of my health issues has been transitioning.

OCPD has gotten easier to manage thanks to the emotional resilience I got on T (and what my therapist taught me) No ovaries mean no periods, which means no spending up to 2 weeks each month with my brain self destructing. No more memory loss, no more pain, no more spasms, no more migraines!!! No more dreading the days before the next T dose in case the previous one is a little too short (this has sent me to the ER before). No more pregnancy risk. No more depression, no more low energy, no more low libido, no more bullshit!!!! I am ME, inside and out, forever!!!!! I haven't felt like this since I was 14, and I'm 32 now! This is insane to think about @_@ It sucks that I had to lie to some doctors to get where I am today. But if I hadn't, I don't even know if I'd be here. It wasn't that big of a lie anyways (I hope). Feels bad to me, because I hate lying, but... no, I think this one was ok.

TL;DR: I have PMDD, meaning my brain is allergic to estrogen, so you can kind of say I was allergic to being a woman, and transitioning has saved my life ♥

If you are still reading this, thank you. I'm very sleepy and this probably makes very little sense, but my dms are open to any questions.

[legendarycollectorprincess]

Ship wars and why they don't let us appreciate and enjoy good characters (Akane Kurokawa and Kana Arima). PART 2

As I said in my previous post, when it comes to ship wars, fans who spread hate will always look for ways to make the character they don't like look bad. Even if they are wrong and their way of interpreting the characters goes against even how the author himself wrote them. But at the end of the day, everyone has the right to express their point of view, right? Sure! As long as they are aware that they are not giving valid criticisms, but highly subjective opinions. Changing the narrative to our convenience

“Kana/Akane is annoying” is a totally valid opinion. However, it's not a criticism that provides any value or even prompts a reflection on the character. In fact, when you see a comment like that, it's the easiest way to recognize a hater, rather than a person who is actually interested in understanding the characters or the story. Why? Because when someone else on the internet asks a hater why they have that opinion (why they think Kana or Akane are annoying), their common answers are usually misinterpretations of the characters: “Kana is annoying because she is a typical tsundere.” Although Kana has certain characteristics of this personality type, in reality, she totally breaks away from the tsundere stereotype. Kana is never physically violent when she and her love interest (Aqua) have a misunderstanding. Or when she is embarrassed. Kana is much more direct and honest than other tsundere characters (for example, Taiga from the anime Toradora!). And, most important of all, Kana has an amazing backstory that explains the reasons why she is the way she is. Why she sometimes decides to push others away before they can leave her, or why she tends to make sharp comments. Since she is in fact NOT a typical tsundere, comments like this totally lose their validity. “Akane is annoying because she makes Aqua worse.” Honestly, these kinds of comments from haters are the funniest to me, because then they contradict themselves when another person says that they hate Akane because she has a weak personality. I mean, they can't even pick a common ground to hate her for. Again, they change the narrative at their convenience, completely ignoring how the author has written the character. Akane is another perfect example of Oshi no Ko's recurring theme: nothing, and no one, is what they seem. At first, it seemed like Akane would be a typical dandere: withdrawn, shy, and afraid to voice her opinion. Then, the character blew everyone's minds when she showed off her incredible acting talent, and unmatched research and deduction skills. Once we get to the Tokyo Blade arc, we see more facets of Akane's character, and it's all thanks to her rivalry with Kana. We discover that Akane can be very competitive, but she also has an honorable side, as she didn't want to beat Kana on stage if she wasn't showing her full potential. We also discovered that Akane can hold her own very well during an argument fight with Kana, who is known for having a very sharp tongue. If Akane had the weak personality that haters say she has, then she wouldn't have even gone so far as to challenge Kana, or she would cry and apologize every time the two of them argue. Akane didn't do this. She stood her ground and battled to the end with the person she used to idolize (and kinda still do). So, back to the topic of “Akane making Aqua worse”. Akane's wish has always been to support and help Aqua. To help the boy who saved her life to stop enduring so much pain by himself. When Aqua revealed his dark desire to her (which is to kill his father), I'm sure most expected her to react in the most basic and predictable way: “B-but, Aqua-kun, killing is wrong. Revenge is wrong.” But what did Akane do instead? She showed another side of her, as a morally gray character, and told Aqua that she would help him. She didn't judge him. For Akane, the world is not just black and white. She can understand that Aqua, a person who is good at heart, must have his reasons for wanting to kill someone. She also sees that Aqua has a terrible trauma related to guilt, and so she wants to help him carry it. If some can't understand how that moment changed things for Aqua (from no longer seeing Akane as a tool, and instead feeling like he finally found someone who understood him), that's fine. But they shouldn't try to pass off Akane's desire to become a support for Aqua (who up until that point hadn't let anyone see that side of him) as her making him worse, because that's simply not how the author wrote it.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

About report accounts, I noticed that as soon as a tkkr account features on pjm report all other tkkrs start following them. Their followers only increase after that. Tkkrs really be moving like a cult in Twitter. So much toxicity over a kpop ship. It's very stupid really.

This is one reason why report accounts can defeat their purpose, especially when they're used in more malicious ways, than for a good thing.

I want to expand a bit more about this topic in general because it got me thinking yesterday. I had a talk with a dear friend of mine, who is not part of any fandom, doesn't really understand stan culture, but we know each other for ages and we've both been basically fan girls of bands when we were in high school. And I ended up talking about the damages of stan culture on the internet and what I see in this fandom, specifically about the way death threats and how other fans need to do the reporting and how ultimately and realistically, nothing happens. And I was surprised at how shocked she was because she said, how is it possible for someone, including a public person, to receive multiple death threats and that still continues to happen? How is this not seen as a really serious situation in which someone with authority can do something about it? And I basically said that a lot of the times, these are frustrated girls who only do it for show, they are not actually aware of how bad it sounds and how it became a weaponized word in fandom spaces, just as swearing at another person. And my explanation wasn't enough for my friend, and as she put it "how can so called fans who are not actually fans came make a death threat with no repercussion? John Lennon was shot by a fan in front of his home. That's the reality and a consequence of obsessed people". And I realized that, as much as I think this is such an awful behavior and an incredibly serious issue, I also became "desentisized" in a way because I see almost weekly report accounts, a lot of the times focused on one person in BTS who statistically, gets the most DT, and because it happens that often, it's somehow the "usual", "nothing new under the sun" "to be expected from haters and shippers and you name it. When it shouldn't be. It fucking shouldn't be. In what reality is this ok? In what actual reality these things can happen on a daily basis, in a fandom in which it's ignored by so many people because it's part of shipping issues or whatever else excuse they can find. We are slowly losing our humanity, compassion and being able to truly realize how fucked up everything is. Just because we're used to seeing it, it doesn't mean it's not just as bad. And I don't think that actual serious report accounts can deal with this. Or the fans sending emails to BH. Because one post is deleted, another account is closed and then they pop out again and again. When in fact it's an issue that first of all, should be resolved from the inside. Weverse should be a platform made in such ways that can have an algorithm that automatically identifies such messages and the users banned forever. Twitter, the same, although we all know that due to freedom of speech seen as without consequences at first, anyone can make malicious and violent threats and only then, through countless reporting, the account can be banned.

And I want to circle back a bit to our attitudine, the fandom's attitude. Because I thought of Hannah Arendt's concept of the banality of evil. In which not everyone is evil, but people can be clueless, ignorant and do evil things. I believe that all these awful people who send DT, who fantasize about sexual violence towards the members, are not some amoral masterminds. No, they just do it, as if it's something so banal. And the rest of this fandom has its own part in perpetuating this behavior because they are part of it. Because they will never be able to admit their collective guilt at allowing this current climate to "flourish". We think in individualistic terms and we're not capable of putting the foot down because it would mean we are recognizing that we're part of the problem. Because acting ignorant and saying that we're not like the others doesn't absolve us. It just makes us accomplices.

[hello-that-happened]

How She-Ra, Wrong Hordak, and I Deconverted in Six Steps

Alright y'all, it's time for my fourth essay exploring how She-Ra and the Princess of Power (SPOP) used Christian themes and parallels to provide a humanist message.

My first post named 9 major messages of SPOP that contradict Christian fundamentalism.

My second gave the historical context of how our generation and Noelle's are growing up to overthrow Christian fundamentalism after it became such a powerful enemy in the U.S.

My third discussed the parallel between Horde Prime’s rage at Hordak’s self-naming and the Christian idea that everyone is an instrument of God’s will.

Now I want to discuss how Adora's and Wrong Hordak's journeys defections from the Horde parallel my story, and potentially others', of leaving Christianity. Adora and Wrong Hordak experience many of the same stages in his journey out of the Horde as many ex-Christians experience leaving Christianity.

My own experience leaving Christianity was a journey into atheism, so I will interpret Adora's and Wrong Hordak's stories through that lens. Plenty of people who left toxic/conservative Christianity behind still believe in God, in heaven, and/or in the value of Christian communities. I do not want to minimize or dismiss their experiences, and I welcome progressive Christians as allies in the fight for LGBT+ rights and social justice generally. But when I watched Adora and Wrong Hordak leave their belief in The Horde behind, I saw myself leaving Christianity behind. I want to tell my story through/alongside theirs. I hope some of you can relate, but it is okay if you cannot, regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof.

Deconversion in Fast-Forward

Adora, Wrong Hordak, and I escaped from the organizations that raised us and its worldview in six somewhat-distinct stages:

Multiple major characters' arcs in She-Ra begin with rethinking their loyalty to The Horde. Wrong Hordak and Adora both lose their faith in The Horde after a lifetime of indoctrination into its ideals and goals. Their journey away from The Horde mirrors many young Americans' away from Christianity, with at least one notable exception: time. Deconversion takes multiple years for most ex-Christians, but only takes a few days for Adora and Wrong Hordak. Their de-conversion basically represents a speed run of most ex-Christians'.

Full Breakdown of Each Stage

(tw: mention of depression and suicidal ideation)

Adora takes delight in pretending to beat up an imaginary princess in the show's first scene, and later calls princesses "violent instigators who don't even know how to control their powers." She believes in the ideals of The Horde, and feels excited to rise through the ranks to become Force Captain. Obedience to Horde authorities comes fairly naturally to her, and she even chides Catra for being "disrespectful."

Wrong Hordak consistently repeats his loyalty to Horde Prime throughout his first episode and beyond. Even while being attacked by his fellow clones, Wrong Hordak affirms that "We serve Horde Prime's will." Unprompted in the next episode he happily announces, "I believe in Horde Prime!"

I felt proud, as a kid in Sunday School, that I could answer more questions about the Bible than any of the other kids. My church's youth group was the most enjoyable part of my middle school years especially because I got to hang out with the guy I only recently realized I'd had a huge gay crush on. I started viewing "feeling happy" and "feeling the presence of God" as identical. I wrote in my 2011 "Faith Statement" for my church's Confirmation that "I fell in love with God," and that "I thank God that I was born into a good Christian family and was raised to honor God."

Adora is kidnapped by the Horde's enemies and taken away from her home, separated from all of the voices reassuring her that The Horde is a good organization with a just mission. Shadow Weaver is not around to give her orders or map out her future anymore, leaving her alone with her enemies and her thoughts.

Wrong Hordak's connection to the hive-mind he knew for all of his life is severed. "I am…alone?" he asks in shock, then breaks down and cries, "I am alone!" For someone who grew up living in the same mind as his entire communal "family," suddenly losing that connection to everyone he knew would be traumatizingly shocking. The best equivalent I can think of in human experience is being suddenly ripped away from your family and community and then never seeing them again.

I kept conflating happiness with my faith in God for years, even after my crush moving away drove me into suicidal ideation for a couple weeks in 2011. My mental health recovered for a year before settling into a long-term depression in 2012. Because I conflated happiness with the presence of God, my depression felt like something had taken away the presence of God.

Adora defends the organization that raised her by quoting her highest authority: "Hordak says we're doing what's best for Etheria. We're trying to make things better. More orderly." Glimmer argues against Adora's worldview by showing her (1) that princesses are just people instead of dangerous violent monsters, and (2) what The Horde has done: first the ruins of a village destroyed by The Horde, and then that the village of Thaymor which she was told to attack was peaceful, innocent, and happy.

Wrong Hordak grabs Entrapta by the hair for the crime of "trespassing," and enjoys saying, "Prime shall hear of this, and his punishment shall be merciless." But once Bow’s arrow disconnects him from the Horde’s hivemind, he is simultaneously stranded away from the people who constantly reinforced his belief in Horde Prime’s goodness and stuck with a group of people opposing Prime. For a long time, Wrong Hordak simply pretends that the Best Friend Squad™ serve Horde Prime just like everyone else he ever knew. Every line of his dialogue in “Taking Control” is a quick, snappy motto he took from Horde propaganda, like “I believe…in Horde Prime” and “True nourishment comes from the favor of Horde Prime.” [see footnote 1]

I was well aware, growing up in a progressive suburb, that plenty of my high school friends were nonreligious. After my depression sunk in, I found myself arguing about religion with a brilliant but very smug British friend who consistently refuted my arguments in ways I could not dispute. Searching for arguments to support my pre-existing beliefs, I started reading Christian apologetics, but found nothing my friends could not easily refute. [see footnote 2]

Adora sees the ruins of the site of a Horde attack while with Glimmer and Bow, and at first rejects what Glimmer tells her about what she sees to preserve her worldview: "This doesn't make any sense. The Horde would never do something like this…You don't know them like I do." But when she sees The Horde attack Thaymor, the belief system painstakingly constructed by The Horde and drilled into her over 15 (or so) years comes crashing down. At first she can rationalize away her experiences to preserve her beliefs, but when the evidence of her own senses becomes overwhelming she cannot resolve the cognitive dissonance between her belief in The Horde's goodness and her direct experience of The Horde attacking the innocent town of Thaymor. Her worldview cannot explain what she experienced.

Wrong Hordak keeps his belief in Horde Prime's all-powerful nature for a long time after joining the Best Friend Squad. However, when until the Best Friend Squad catches him in a contradiction. He tells them what he was told: that Krytis does not exist. As soon as they start questioning the contradiction he was fed, he becomes extremely uncomfortable. He maintains his denial of Krytis' existence even after they land on the planet, until he can no longer deny the evidence that Horde Prime is not all-powerful.

I grew up, like many of you, on the Internet. My depression began during the heyday of the online atheist movement—and by “heyday,” I mean “seemingly inescapable presence,” especially on YouTube where I hung out. I kept running into comments asking questions that I could not answer: Why does Christianity seem to promote belief based on internal feelings instead of observable evidence? Why would an all-loving god send anyone to hell forever? Why did I believe claims from Christian doctrine and doubt claims from every other religion? Why has Christianity seemed to cling to the past instead of embracing a progressive future? The questions overwhelmed me. I found myself terrified of my own growing doubts. Eventually, my belief was based entirely on two emotions: nostalgia for past happy experiences I associated with Christianity, and a fear of losing the vague hope those experiences gave me.

The first time that Bow and Glimmer met Adora, they immediately labeled her “Horde soldier!,” and the label stuck through the first three episodes. Adora has always identified herself primarily as a soldier serving The Horde, echoing the messages she has heard for her whole life: “Shadow Weaver said it didn't matter who I was before, that—that I was nothing before Hordak took me in.” The language of “I was nothing” reflects cult dynamics where a group tries to retain someone permanently by making them think of themself as nothing more than their worshipful loyalty to the group. Similarly, it is a common Christian belief that “without Jesus we are nothing.”

After realizing that Horde Prime fes him lies, Wrong Hordak collapsed into a sobbing mess. “Who am I if not an exalted brother of Prime?,” he bawled, still thinking that the only legitimate kind of identity is one based on fully devoted worship of an all-powerful authority. Per Entrapta, “It seem[ed] that Wrong Hordak has begun to question the meaning of life.” She later described Wrong Hordak’s breakdown as an “existential crisis,” which happens “when individuals question whether their lives have meaning, purpose, or value, and are negatively impacted by the contemplation.” Without an all-powerful father figure to value him, Wrong Hordak thought, who would?

I identified myself fundamentally as a Christian for my entire childhood and teen years. I found joy, purpose, and a sense of self in my religion. Leaving my religion behind felt like burning the bridge to who I was behind me. When I de-converted from Christianity, I felt like I was standing at the brink of a void. I thought that without finding goodness in God, I might find no goodness at all. [see footnote 3]

When Wrong Hordak finishes (digitally, but also emotionally) processing the Krytis data logs of Horde Prime leaving in defeat, he explicitly renounces his old loyalties and declares his opposition to the organization and beliefs that he used to believe in with all his heart: "Brothers! Horde Prime lied to us. He is a false ruler. We must rise up against him, and free the universe from his unjust reign!"

After Adora betrays the Horde at the Battle of Thaymor, she pledges her loyalty to Bright Moon in her battle against the Horde: "I’ve seen for myself the atrocities the Horde has committed against the people of Etheria, and I’m ready to fight to stop them. If you give me the chance, I know I can help the Rebellion turn the tide of the war."

I didn't have an explicit declaration statement like Wrong Hordak or Adora. However, on 5/5/15 I arranged a meeting with my very friendly and understanding youth pastor as a last-ditch effort to save my faith. I hoped that he would crush my worrying doubts. Instead, actually encouraged me to become agnostic and to look into non-Christian beliefs on the subject of religion. Rather than feeling terrified of what I might find and wishing that someone could indoctrinate me into my old belief system, I started on a path to discover the truth wherever it might lead me.

Footnotes for Context

Christian fundamentalists’ similarly simplistic snappy phrases have been labeled by ex-Christians as “thought-terminating clichés… brief, highly reductive, definitive-sounding phrases” where “Simple labels are attached to something you like or dislike, and they are the start and finish of all thought on the subject.” Such black-and-white “totalistic” thinking is common in Christian fundamentalism, especially how it labels complex political topics as somehow being merely a cover for “spiritual warfare” between the totally good/Godly side and the totally evil/demonic side.

Specifically, I started reading an “Intelligent Design” propaganda apologetics book by Lee Strobel called The Case For A Creator. A self-proclaimed former atheist, Strobel wrote his The Case For series using my same research strategy: Only do research using sources that already agree with you. Whereas Strobel exclusively talked to other Christian apologists, though, I at least tried talking to atheists. Anyway, I walked into school one day with a confident smile and a copy of Strobel’s book and sat down with some friends. One of them, another brilliant atheist but with a far subtler and humbler personality, noticed it and his face immediately sunk into the expression of someone exhausted by the topic as he braced himself for my bullshit. When I confidently asserted a creationist talking point trying to dismiss the findings of some old experiment, he not only knew the experiment but immediately dismantled my talking point. I had no reply. What struck me most was not just his swift rebuttal, but his weary tone: My arguments were not only bad, but so bad that he was genuinely tired of them.

Around the same time, I became obsessed with the character of Kefka from Final Fantasy 6. To me, Kefka represented what I feared most about leaving Christianity behind — that I would lose any sense of meaning, purpose, or morality in my life. ("Life… Dreams… Hope…Where do they come from? And where are they headed? Such meaningless things!") Edgy, I know, but in my mind that kind of absurdism seemed to be an inevitable result of abandoning my religious beliefs. Fortunately, I came to understand that there is plenty of meaning, purpose, beauty, and goodness outside of the particular religion that I happened to be born into.

[wordsablaze]

Live And Let Livestream

Jaskier's saturday nights are reserved for livestreams but sometimes they end up including wikipedia fraud, protective boyfriends who only half-know how to use the internet, and a spontaneous sleepover instead...

A/N: this is just a bit of fun inspired by the jaskel discord - love y’all <3

-

Having a wikipedia page is pretty impressive and since Jaskier strives to be both pretty and impressive, it’s no surprise that he has one.

Well, he actually has two but nobody needs to know that. Either way, for someone as bothered about his reputation as he is, he pays very little attention to his wiki, often forgetting he’s even that level of famous until Yennefer teases him about it. Or until something inevitably goes wrong - It just so happens that he’s in the middle of a livestream when something does inevitably go wrong.

“...and yes, this is a new shirt, thank you for noticing, um- sorry, i didn’t catch your user! I’ll drop a link so we can all be scandalous together, hang on!”

He’s just about picked up his phone to check he’s got the right website in mind when it starts ringing. Cursing softly as he literally jumps, he shoots a guilty grin at his computer. “Can you guys pretend that didn’t happen so I can pretend I still have some dignity? Thanks, just give me a second…”

Ordinarily, he’d just put his phone on silent because all of his important friends know he spends Saturday evenings and often nights livestreaming. But it’s Eskel calling and he’s not about to be rude and decline someone who bakes him brownies whenever he has a meltdown now, is he?

“Is everything okay, darling?” he asks.

“Can you end your stream early? I think you’ll regret giving people a live reaction to this.”  

Jaskier frowns harder, reluctant to break his promise to the followers he only somewhat childishly considers to be his friends. “What is it? Are you all okay?”

He hears Eskel sigh. “Maybe at least mute the thing?”

Rolling his eyes, he clicks the mute button and types the link for his shirt into the chat along with a brief apology before focusing back on Eskel. “You’re worrying me, what happened?”

“So you know that wikipedia page we were talking about the other day?”

He nods, then realises Eskel can’t see him. “Uh yes, my page, what about it?”

“You might want to take a moment to take a minute to see for yourself?”

“What is it with you guys and being so cryptic? You don’t even all share the same genes so it can’t be that. Maybe it’s just the kind of people I attract, not that I’m complaining per se but still,” Jaskier mutters to himself even as he googles his own name.

He truly has no idea what Eskel was trying to get at until the page loads properly, at which point he blinks at the photo staring back at him. The photo that is most definitely not the one Essi had jokingly submitted and somehow managed to keep there because shut up about my terrible phone camera quality already, you actually look candid so who cares?

“Is this a joke, Esk? What the…” he trails off, scrolling to find lists of achievements and songs and facts that really shouldn’t be associated with his name. Not that it’s his name currently on the page.

“Oh, for the love of-" his breath hitches as he sees a parody of his own song written off as Valdo's- "actually, screw that! There is no love here, what exactly does he think he’s doing? Ugh, can’t a guy livestream in peace nowadays?”

“I’m sorry, Jas. Geralt just told me and I-”

“Geralt was on my wiki?” Jaskier finds himself asking, grinning at the very thought.

“I… wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Uh, yeah? I mean, he actually came and asked me how to email wikipedia but we kind of figured it out from there so…”

Jaskier laughs despite his frustration, his urge to punch Valdo morphing into an urge to kiss his boyfriends. “Who’s ‘we’, by the way?”

Before Eskel can answer, Jaskier’s computer starts rapidly beeping, at which point he turns back to the live and promptly curses when he sees the dozens of messages in the chat asking who Valdo Marx is or, from people who already know who he is, messages asking whether they have permission to throw hands; he'd be lying if he said those messages don't warm his heart.

“I didn’t mute the thing properly. Gods, I’m turning into Vesemir,” Jaskier groans, then slaps his free hand over his mouth and glares at his camera. “None of you tell him I said that, you hear me? I do love him so.”

“How would they even find Vesemir?” Eskel asks in his ear, clearly amused.

“Remind me to remind you how deeply the internet works later. More importantly, you haven’t mentioned Lambert or Aiden yet and I know for a fact they were heading to yours today so…?” Jaskier asks, hoping the former hasn’t punched a wall again or anything like that.

Eskel clears his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, they were heading to ours but they… well, uhm, they called to say they took a detour.”

“To mine?” Jaskier asks, frowning at the thought. He’s more than capable of fixing his own wiki page and as much as he appreciates the moral support, he doesn’t really need any of his loved ones’ presence for such a trivial matter. And anyway, he was already planning on joining the others in the morning so they could spend Sunday together, which means coming over to his makes no sense.

“No, not to yours. To Valdo’s…”

Jaskier’s eyes widen.

Throwing hands on social media is one thing but he doesn’t want any kind of misleading vagueposting from the likes of people who need to steal other people’s wikipedia pages in the direction of people who have no fault other than mildly violent forms of love, and especially not on his behalf.

“What are you still doing on the phone? Go derail their detour! I’ll be there as soon as I can too,” Jaskier says to Eskel, blowing him a kiss through the phone because he knows it’ll make the other man blush.

Once he’s hung up, he turns back to his camera with a pout. “Right, sorry guys, I’ll have to cut this one short so my darling idiots don’t ruin their evenings for the sake of a pathetic leech who just will not let me live! Okay, I promise some cute instagram selfies in exchange for this mess but for now, I’ll see you next week! Alright, bye!”

This time he does press the right buttons and closes both the live and the computer down even as he grabs his coat. Forgoing socks in favour of making sure nobody except Valdo’s weekend gets ruined - he already knows Yennefer or Renfri will be more than happy to throw shade his way to make him regret his failed publicity stunt - and pulling on a pair of boots really not designed for driving, he makes his way out of his apartment as fast as humanly possible.

There’ll be time to be angry at Valdo again later but he’s more than aware that between his family, his friends, and his followers, it’s simply not a big deal. He signed up for drama when he signed up for being famous and yes, he loves fighting against anyone or anything that tries to stop him from sharing his music, but he’s really not about to waste any more time worrying about all that at the moment.

At the end of the day, it's nice to be pretty impressive but there's nothing better than being pretty loved.

-

what are the logistics of this au? whatever you want them to be ;)

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[butterflyinthewell]

Adult fandom antis scare me.

You know how the most violently homophobic people end up being gay themselves?

That’s why I’m immediately suspicious of any 20+ adult fandom anti who uses the same rhetoric as 15 year olds and presents themselves as a “safe adult”.

There’s no way they’re safe, they’re using the rhetoric to deflect suspicion off themselves and they’re probably saying and doing really gross shit to kids in private.

❌❌❌❌

— TW CSA MENTION —

Just imagine how they could find the kid that’s the most on the fringes, make them feel special, reel them in more, get them to share nudes, and then threaten to take away all that friendship and turn everyone against them if they tell anyone what happened. Imagine how scared that kid will feel when they see this monster, feel disgusting and deflect all that terror and guilt into telling people to stop being alive over Loli artwork.

——

Predators are slick like that. They’ll hide in plain sight if it means accessing their chosen prey.

That’s why people need to educate minors about what grooming can really look like, cuz I promise it’s not icky artwork just existing on a server somewhere.

Being groomed is never the child’s fault, blame always lies on the predator. Always.

I looked up info about online grooming warning signs and here’s what I found. This may be triggering for survivors.

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

The Steps of Grooming

Any person of any age, gender, sexual identity or ethnicity can groom someone for the purpose of abuse. That person may be someone you know or someone you don’t know. Children and teens are not the only victims of grooming, but this guide focuses on young people.

Grooming was first recognized in abuse cases where the abuser knew their victim in person, like Ariana Kukors, a US Olympic swimmer who was abused by her coach. Kukors has spoken publicly about the role grooming played in her story, and how the manipulation kept her under the control of her abusive coach for years. In addition to in person grooming, online grooming has become equally dangerous, prevalent and damaging. More and more of our lives are lived online, which is why we need to think more and more about our safety online.

1. Targeting a victim

Unfortunately, any young person is at risk of online grooming. Abusers typically look for someone who is more vulnerable or in a vulnerable situation, like someone living in foster care or someone with a disability. Online, abusive people look for teens who are lonely or expressing sexual curiosity. Sometimes online abusers pretend to be teenagers themselves, but more often they are adults trying to play the role of an older boyfriend or a mentor who can “teach” the victim about love or sex.

2. Gaining access

Sexual abuse is most often committed by someone that you already know, and this is because the abuser usually needs to be in your circle of acquaintances to get access to you. They want to be nearby and to have opportunities to be alone.

This is often not the case with online abuse, because the internet provides that access. Instead of being in the same city or neighborhood, abusers can meet potential victims on social media, in games, chatrooms, or anywhere that users correspond. Online platforms also allow anonymity, which works in the abuser’s favor. It can be difficult to determine who a person is and their intentions.

3. Building trust

A key part of grooming for sexual abuse is building trust with the victim. In person or online, abusers try to fill a need. You may be lonely, feel unpopular, isolated or bored, and the abuser will pretend to become a friend you can confide in and who can listen. They may act sympathetic, always take your side, and portray themselves as the only person who understands your problems. Their goal is to become your main emotional support. They may also try to make you feel special by treating you like an adult and commenting on your maturity. They may quickly look for a favor they can do for you to make you feel indebted and more likely to do something for them return. This stage is particularly damaging because it closely mimics a positive relationship.

4. Isolation and risk assessment

When an abuser thinks they have established trust, they test that bond. They may try to isolate you from family or friends, sometimes to the point of you becoming very emotionally or otherwise dependent on them. With online grooming, they may ask if your parents check your phone or if you are home alone. They may also start asking you to keep secrets, either about conversations or gifts they send. This is one way the abuser assesses whether they can move to the next step and you will stay silent.

5. Sexualization of the relationship

The final step occurs when the abuser believes they have built sufficient trust that you will do what they request and keep everything secret. They may commit sexual assault in or request sexual images or videos, often increasingly explicit in nature.

While in person and online grooming both follow these steps, abusers work at different rates. For example, Ariana Kukors swim coach began grooming her when she was 13 years old and the physical sexual abuse began when she was 15. Online abuse can occur faster, sometimes in even less than one hour.

🚩🚩🚩🚩

Red Flags and Warning Signs

It is not reasonable to say that you should avoid the internet if you don’t want to be abused. The responsibility and blame always lies with an abuser, not someone they victimize who is simply engaging in modern life online. We believe it is possible for you to still have fun online, meet new friends, and stay safe. The key is awareness. It may be difficult to identify a step in the grooming process in real time, but there are red flags and warning signs that you can recognize, especially if they start to accumulate. They can help you protect yourself when sexual requests slide into your DMs.

Flattery

It can feel nice to be noticed. Lots of likes and comments on your social media can feel good, but excessive compliments from a stranger can be a warning sign, particularly sexualized comments about your appearance. Flattery is one way online abusers gain access to their victims and begin building a relationship. “Wow, you should be a model,” may seem harmless, but it often isn’t. You have the power. Just because someone gives you a compliment does not mean you have to continue the conversation.

Gifts

Online groomers might send video game currency, cash, electronic devices, or other gifts to you to ingratiate themselves. This is a clear red flag. There is no reason why an adult should be sending gifts to a minor they met online, nor is it typical teen behavior to send gifts if the abuser is posing as a younger person. In actuality, gifts are one way abusers assess risk. They may ask you to not tell your parents about the gift to test how much you trust them and if you will stay silent after sexual abuse.

Asking for personal information

It is safest to avoid sharing personal and identifying information about yourself online or with those you don’t know. If you are playing video games, chatting, or sharing photos for fun, there is no need for personal questions about where you live or go to school. Do your parents read your messages? What is a secret no one knows about you? Abusers want to know as much as they can about their victims so they can better manipulate them.

Secret conversations

Secrets work in the abuser’s favor in two different ways. To build trust, they may confide in you by telling real or made up secrets to try to make you feel special. Abusers also use secrets to test that trust before escalating to sexual abuse. If someone asks you to keep a conversation secret, ask yourself why? Is the conversation inappropriate, or is it dangerous?

Sending sexually explicit photos

In the online dating world, it is almost assumed you will receive sexual photos whether you asked for them or not. Sexting is considered normal, but still has risks and consequences, particularly if you are under 18. Unfortunately, abusers rely on the normalization of sexting. They expect you to dismiss or think nothing of an explicit image, but in reality, abusers send explicit imagery to try and desensitize their victim to future abuse. It is a priming tactic. Keep in mind, that in many countries it is illegal for an adult to send an underage person pornographic material,nor is it lawful to send nude photos as a minor to another person. In any online exchange, it is not okay for anyone to send unsolicited explicit photos. This is poor etiquette and ultimately a nonconsensual act and red flag no matter what.

Requesting sexual photos

Online abusers sexualize the relationship by sending and requesting explicit photos and videos, explicit letters or phone calls, or asking detailed questions about your sexual history or experience. They may begin with a seemingly harmless request, like a photo of you fully clothed, before asking for increasingly sexual images. Others brazenly ask for explicit material straight away and even demand live webcam performances. Remember that after you send an image, you no longer have control over what a person does with that image. Ask yourself how well you know the receiver. Did you meet in person or online? Do you know their real identity and their intentions? How does the request make you feel? Many young people enjoy the attention that comes from the potential of a new relationship, but requests to send nudes can still feel like unwanted pressure.

Threats

After the abuser receives one or multiple sexual images, they may try to blackmail you into sending more images of increasing exploitative nature. They may send threats that they will release the images online or send them to your family or school. This is a kind of extortion, or rather sextortion, and is another form of sexual abuse. You do not need to respond or give in, despite how terrifying the threats may seem. An abuser does not want to put themselves at risk by exposing the relationship, so the threats may be a bluff. Seek immediate help.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

Next Steps

If you feel uncomfortable about an online conversation, the next thing you should do may be the hardest. Reach out for help and support. Telling a parent, guardian, teacher or someone else can be daunting because you can’t know for sure how they will react, but confiding in someone with some power who you can trust and who won’t blame you for the abuse is key to moving forward. Alternatively, you can call a helpline which allows you to remain anonymous and get accurate advice about your situation.

An online conversation with someone abusive can spiral out of control quickly. You may feel ashamed or embarrassed, but if there is anything you should take away from this guide, it is this: it is never your fault. The blame is not yours to bear.

—source: Scarleteen website.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

My advice: keep receipts. Take screenshots, save emails, save photos or videos if it’s safe/legal to do so (ie they’re not another minor sending sexually explicit stuff, saving that might be cited as CSEM possession), and document whatever you can. It will help you expose the person to either law enforcement or in a callout post if a callout is necessary.

[willcwthewisp]

and the sky is grey | nora, tommy, & willow

PREVIOUSLY: all the leaves are brown PARTIES: @fearfordinner, @wrightnotwrcng, and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Im9ffv1a_N0

At first Nora thought she’d found a like minded friend online. Someone who openly admitted to breaking the law online. Someone else who was aware that White Crest’s police force was a joke. Nora was against the police for multiple reasons; White Crest just happened to have the dumbest police force she’d ever met. She was probably being biased on that. It had taken a bit to track down the online stranger’s home address. Unfortunately for the woman against crime, there was nothing that money couldn’t be. Private investigators were good at their jobs and she was good at handing over boatloads of money to absolutely pointless endeavors. That was how Nora Pine, artist & fear incarnate, ended up outside Willow’s apartment window. The fire escape rattled under Nora’s boots as she climbed up and up. The window slid open easily. Not locked. Sliding in the window, Nora took her first look around and was surprised to find that it looked a lot like her own home. Art and art supplies everywhere. “Cool.”

Willow was sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the state of her apartment and the fact that it was being broken into while Nora began her study of the area. She might have even stayed that way had her local and friendly ghost friend in the form of Kal hadn’t taken it upon himself to try and wake her despite knowing how unreliable her ability to hear him was. “Willow! Willow!” he yelled as loudly as he could, frustrated beyond belief that the medium had chosen this time of all of them to be unable to hear him. “Willow, wake up! Someone’s here! Someone’s coming in!” But it was useless, and the blonde simply rolled restlessly in her sleep as Kal’s efforts persisted. However there was another ghost perched nearby, feet propped up on one of the canvasses he didn’t like nearly so much as the bear one the little artist had painted for him. “I don’t know why you even try!” Tommy chuckled as he watched Kal’s desperate attempts to wake the slumbering woman. “We both know she might as well be dead like us with the way she ignores us. Here- watch!” With that he banged a hand against the nearby dresser, only to be surprised when it actually made a loud and hearable noise. Willow jerked awake, looking around with groggy eyes in an attempt to find the source of the noise.

 “What? ….who?” Her voice was sleepy as she rubbed at her eyes, and though it hadn’t been Tommy’s true intention to wake her, he was more than pleased with the results as he barked out a laugh. “Ha! Did you see that shit? It fuckin’ worked! This is gonna be even better if she’s awake for a break in!” Now all there was to do was sit back, relax, and watch the beautiful series of events and terror unfold.

Nora was not deaf to the cries of the ghosts. With each cry for Willow to wake up Nora moved closer to where the sound was. “Is everything okay in here?” Nora asked upon reaching the threshold of the bedroom. Nora saw two ghosts sitting around a sleeping blonde. She seemed to be moving. “Why do you want her awake?” Nora asked them. She walked closer to the bed, rudely passing right through the legs of the ghost who was disrespecting some art. “Hey your friends think you should wake up now.” Nora said, looking down. “Ghosts are real. If you didn’t know. The library has been lying to everyone about them not being real.” Nora stopped. Now really wasn’t the time to get in her spiel about how ghosts were real. “Nice art by the way. Can I have the studio tour?” Nora was aware that she was speaking more than she normally did. It surprised her to look in on her own emotions and find that she was excited to meet another artist. One who had almost as much canvas, brushes and ghosts as her. 

“Get out!” Kal yelled as Nora made her entrance, hands in front of him as if he could push her away. “Get out!” Unfortunately it seemed the moment of the ghosts’ tangibility had been as brief as the loud thump Tommy had made, and he passed uselessly through the woman. Meanwhile, Tommy’s grin was nearly infectious on his lips as he realized this chick could see him and the other spirit. “Come in! Come in!” he goaded, his own arms making a welcoming motion in towards the center of the room. It was fine if she walked through his legs so long as she was gonna give him a good show. 

Willow’s eyes finally cleared as she heard a foreign voice enter the mix, one she’d assumed was another ghost until she found she could clearly make out the face of a woman standing over her. Her scream was instant, almost as quick as the pulse of energy that ricocheted out from her as she realized a stranger was standing in the middle of her bedroom. Or had been standing in her bedroom. The energy wave sent the woman flying back through the window from whence she’d come, landing her with a heavy thud on the fire escape outside. “Who are you?!” Willow screeched, hands gripping uselessly at her sheets as she frantically searched for something to defend herself with. “What are you doing in my apartment?!” Meanwhile, Tommy’s guffaws of amusement had already left him short of breath, his feet now solidly planted on the ground as things heated up. “Holy shit! Did you know she could do that?” he asked Kal with a hand point in Willow’s direction. “This is gonna be even better than I thought it would be! Hey, come back!” he yelled towards the woman who’d been thrown out the window. He wanted to see that again.

It was noteworthy that one ghost seemed very protective and the other ghost full of mirth. Nora had been turning to look at the distressed ghost, to tell him that it was okay. She wasn’t there to hurt anyone when the breath was stolen from her lungs. Stolen by the violent force propelling her back out the window. Nora thudded against the fire escape ladder. Her back let out a large cracking noise as the tension she’d been holding released with the crack. “Cool.” Nora mumbled. Sure, she was in a little bit of pain but that was to be expected after she was thrown across an apartment and into a fire escape. But there had been the crick in her back for so long she thought she’d never get rid of it. 

Nora climbed back into the window and right back. “That was cool. Can you do it again?” Nora asked while grabbing a pillow from the blonde’s bed and shoving it down the back of her shirt. It’d hurt less that way.�� She looked around at the three in the room while she shimmed the pillow down. By the look on everyone’s face she had absolutely no clue which one had done it. Except one of the ghosts had said ‘did she know she could do that.’ Nora’s eyes moved back to the blonde. “Did you know you could do that?” Nora asked her. “I’m Nora by the way. We talked online. About breaking and entering.” 

“Oh God- oh no, oh no.” Somehow this was a nightmare Willow had never even considered. Someone was breaking into her home and she was throwing people? Very possibly breaking them? “Stop! No, that’s my pillow!” Willow cried as she reached out to try and yank the thing back, but it was too late. “Again? What do you mean again? Who are you?! Get out of my home! I don’t want to throw you again!” Unfortunately it seemed the unbridled anxiety racing through her veins had other plans Nora was once again sent soaring through the air. This time the angle launched Nora flying towards a few of Willow’s recently finished pieces, including the grizzly bear she’d finished earlier that day. “Please- please just leave,” the medium practically begged, breaths coming fast and short. “I don’t want to hurt you! And I don’t want you to hurt me!” 

Tommy was a much different story while he watched in absolute awe as the woman came trudging back, asking to be thrown once more. “Fucking superb, you funky little lady!” He got to see someone get thrown not once, but twice? He could only hope he might get to see it a third time. But concern managed to enter his voice as Nora ended up next to his painting. “Hold on! Be careful! That one’s mine,” he said while moving towards the bear portrait. “You wouldn’t wanna mess up such a handsome lookin’ fella would ya now?”

Willow had only just begun to process what it was that Nora had said as she finished her telekinetic throw, and her panicked tones continued. “You’re the girl from the internet?!” Why? Why, had she decided to break into Willow’s home? “I don’t want you to break into my apartment!”

Fear was abundant here. A veritable feast. A full ass eight course meal coming from probably the most scared person Nora had ever met. And Nora had met a lot of scared people in her life. This one, the blonde, just seemed more scared than most. “I’m not going to hurt yo-.” Nora tried explaining but her wish was coming true. Nora’s pillowed back hit the wall with a nice thud. She slid to the ground in a pile of canvases. A ghost, the one who was laughing and not the one who looked like he was about to meet his second death, said something about it being handsome. Nora looked for a moment, just long enough to recognize it as a bear before the blonde was talking again. This was something she’d have to process later. After she was done being thrown repeatedly. 

Nora picked up the canvas and slunk back into the bedroom. “You can invite me next time.” Nora explained, holding the canvas. “And your window was open. Nothing really broke. Besides, it's fun. So I won’t stop.” Nora came closer again sitting on the edge of the bed. “So how do you do it. Throw people?” She asked, then, pretending it was an afterthought she added. “You could do it again if you want. It’s fun.” Really fun. Nora found herself longing to be capable of flight in that moment. A longing she’d never had before. 

“I’m not gonna invite you!” Willow yelled, folding in on herself where she sat on her bed, her arms latching around her knees as she tried to make herself smaller and get as far away from this insane woman as possible. “Not after you came into my apartment without asking! You can’t just do that!” God damn it, her window. She’d been leaving it cracked more often the closer the warmer weather came, letting the freshness of the outside air trickle in whenever she could. After all, she didn’t get much of it anymore seeing as she minimized her time outdoors. That’s generally where all the people were. People who could be touched and thrown and broken. “But I don’t want you in here,” the blonde nearly cried, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to reconcile the fact that she’d now tossed this woman twice, and that she still wasn’t leaving Willow’s apartment. “And that’s- that’s victim shaming!” she managed to get out. “Just because someone’s window is open, doesn’t mean you can go through it! If you leave- if you go, I’ll tell you how I throw people! Not here, though!” The medium clutched desperately to the only thing she seemed to have over Nora, not bothering to consider that she also didn’t want to talk about her telekinetic abilities any time soon. “I don’t want to throw you! That’s how people get hurt! Please...please just leave,” Willow begged, looking as if she might actually start to cry. 

But Tommy had little interest in seeing Nora go. “Nah! Don’t leave! This is great! And she makes you fly! What’s more fun than flying, right?” He wanted to see it again! Plus this was the most interesting that had happened since he’d started following Willow around, and her face looked kinda hilarious when it was all scrunched up like this. “Listen- what other chance are you gonna get to fly?” Tommy asked Nora, crouching a little beside her to look her in the eye while he sent her a manipulative grin. But Kal was having none of it. “Do what Willow says, and get out! Both of you!” He said while pointing between Tommy and Nora. If this new asshole of a ghost was going to disturb Willow, he wouldn’t stand for it. After all she’d been nothing but sweet to him.

“That’s not nice.” Nora mumbled as Willow told Nora she wasn’t going to invite Nora and that she didn’t even want Nora there. It stung a little. Hurtful to say someone wasn’t welcome. How would Willow feel if Willow found out she wasn’t invited to  hang out in her own apartment. She also said she didn’t want to throw Nora. This was getting confusing. If she didn’t want to throw Nora then why had she thrown Nora twice already? Nora couldn’t keep up. Not when there were a lot of people talking at once. Willow, on the edge of tears. The laughing ghost somehow knew Nora was into flying and then the protective ghost was. Well, he was there telling two of them to go. Nora looked down at the canvas in her hand. “I do like flying.” She admitted absently. Her fingers lightly traced the bear on the canvas. She liked that piece of art a lot. An idea suddenly hit Nora. She could turn into a bear! She could show the other woman that she was different just like her and they could be friends and Nora could get the studio tour! 

“I like your bear.” Nora looked up from the canvas, flipping it around to show Willow what piece of art she was talking about. Getting off the bed Nora took off her jacket and boots. She tossed the borrowed pillow back to Willow. “I’m a bear too. Look.” Nora backed away from the bed, checking to make sure she had enough space for the transformation. It happened in an instant. Then there was Nora. Standing as a bear in front of Willow. She let out a friendly little yodel. As bear friends do. 

“You...you like my bear?” Willow managed to say through her panic, nonplussed and confused by the compliment. But what did Nora mean about the fact that she was a bear, too? Tommy, now absolutely certain that Nora had wonderful taste in artwork after seeing her reaction to his portrait straightened as his curiosity piqued. What did she mean by the fact that she was a bear? Certainly he couldn’t have had the absolute earth-shattering luck to stumble upon-

His hopes were answered as a little bear promptly filled the space where Nora had been, and his hands shot above his head in excitement as pure joy filtered through his laughs. “A bugbear! Holy fucking shit, you’re a bugbear! Look! Look!” He continued his display of exuberance with a boyish charm before he too was shifting, letting fur, claws, and teeth take him over as he turned into a behemoth, ghost, grizzly bear. Almost immediately he backed onto his hind legs in a bear welcome, answering Nora’s little yodel with an elated bear chuff and roar. 

Willow was not nearly so fond of seeing a human turn into a bear as Tommy was, and for the third time that night Nora was sent flying out of Willow’s room via mystical means as the medium screamed. Only this time it was in a mass of black fur and beady eyes. Had she ever thrown someone three times in a row? Had she ever thrown something nearly so large as a bear? She wasn’t sure, but as her arms went weak, and her eyes began to droop she was certain that this was how she was going to die. Eaten by a woman who turned into a bear while she couldn’t keep herself awake after expending so much energy through telekinesis.

Nora had come here for Willow but now Nora’s full attention was on the ghost. A bear. A Bugbear. The ghost shouting bugbear. “You’re a bugbear?” Nora tried to ask. It came out as low bear grumbling. But the ghost shifted. The ghost shifted into a bear. A really big bear. Oh god was her bear smaller than average like her height? Despite having been thrown twice before Nora didn’t see it coming. She was too enamoured by the ghost bear in front of her. Nora went flying, shattering the window that she landed against but didn’t make all the way through. Shards of glass poked her heavy hide. It didn’t matter. Nora shifted back, standing there naked and bleeding in a strangers apartment with open windows. 

This time when she ran back to Willow’s room Nora’s attention wasn’t on Willow. It was on the Bear ghost. “You’re a bugbear?” The words practically tumbled out of Nora’s normally taciturn mouth. Excitement was reaching her normally monotone affect. “You’re a bugbear?” She asked the ghost. She looked back at the really tired blonde. “You’re a friend of bugbears? Did you paint him?” Nora’s attention shifted to the third ghost. She didn’t have anything to say to him. Back to the bugbear. “Do you know other bugbears? Alive bugbears? I- How’d did you die? Why are you here?” Nora turned back to Willow. “So you can see ghosts then? Are you a bugbear too?” 

“Of course I’m a bugbear!” Tommy answered in his returned bear-talk, though it mostly just sounded like a series of grunts and growls to the human ear. The bear shaped ghost lumbered over to Nora, sniffing at her side as if he could tell whether or not the damage done to her was anything to be too concerned about. Thankfully, it mostly just seemed to be a few surface wounds. He let loose another inquisitive bear sound before shifting back into his human self, somehow still clothed. “You know the one good thing about being a ghost is you don’t have to find clothes all the time to change back into. The humans can get so weird about that whole not wearing them thing,” he commented with a roll of his eyes. “But you- I’m sure you understand,” he said brightly, all but forgetting that Kal and Willow even existed. “Of course I know other bugbears! We’re the best sort to know. As for how I died, that’s a bit of a longer story but I could tell it to ya if you wanna blow this popsicle stand. I think the blonde one needs a nap anyway- so she’s not gonna be much fun anymore.” 

Tommy was right. Willow was fading quickly now that the toll of what she’d done was beginning to manifest on her energy levels. Her eyes blinked closed a few times as she looked towards Nora and whatever mystery ghost she was talking to. Was it Kal? Was he here? Maybe he could help. But she was so tired. Very much against her will her body collapsed back onto the bed, but not before she saw the little pokes of blood marring Nora’s side. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, insufferable guilt already pooling in her stomach. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t want to- you’re hurt, and I didn’t want to-” A few tears finally slipped down her cheek, unable to keep the emotion at bay now that she’d injured another living being. But sleep made quick work of that despair, forcefully gripping the medium in its clutches as her body relinquished itself to exhaustion and she passed out in her bed. 

The strangest thing was Nora understood those bear grunts. Not like she understood language where the words formed letters and sounds but in an instinctual way. In the most primal of ways. Like that same grunt could be used to say so much but because it was another bear in that moment she understood what it was supposed to be. She blinked slowly revivling in this new discovery. Another bugbear. A ghost bugbear. “Yeah. Nudity is natural.” She blinked down at her own nude body really unsure of what to say. She had so many questions but all of them eluded her now. Now that she was face to face with a bugbear. Wow. Nora reached out to the ghost, her hand sliding through. Oh right. She thought, noting how stupid it was to try and touch a ghost to check if it was real. Real idiot moments. 

“Yeah. We can leave.” Nora looked over to Willow, about to explain that she had to go. Willow didn’t look great. She looked tired. Was she apologizing for the back thing? Nora was about to tell her it was absolutely no problem but the blonde collapsed into unconsciousness. “Do you think she’s okay?” Nora asked walking back over to Willow. “She’s probably just tired right?” Nora tucked in her new friend. There was a broken window, she didn’t want her to get cold. “Let me just… hmmm.” Nora left the bedroom and started snooping around the kitchen. A glass of water for her bedside. An advil cause she’d screamed so much. A ham sandwich to wake up to. Nora plopped the items on the bed side table before scribbling a note. ‘Sorry about your window. I’ll send someone to repair it tomorrow. You’ll have to invite them inside. - np.’  Nora borrowed a shirt and pants before she climbed back out the window. Beckoning to her new bugbear friend she said. “We can go to my place. I’m Nora by the way. It’s so great to meet you.” 

“Oh yeah- she’s fine,” Tommy said with a dismissive wave towards the blonde chick, his tone perfectly confident in the words. He didn’t actually know if she was fine, but he didn’t really care in the least whether she was or not. Sure, she was hot for a human. But she was just that- a human. Nasty little buggers who didn’t do much other than destroy things, and make a nice snack. “She’s easily tired. Most humans are, you know. They’re not as strong as us.” He finished on a point of pride, knowing it to be undoubtedly true. Tommy waited impatiently as Nora took careful steps to ensure what he was fairly certain was Willow’s comfort, and he carefully suppressed a disapproving frown while she finished writing her note. Strange. It was almost as if she cared about the human’s well-being or something. “Great!” he exhaled with a clap of his hands, rubbing them together in excitement as Nora gave her name. “A lovely name for a lovely bear,” he finished with a cheeky smile. “I’m Tommy. Tommy Wright.” Giving the other ghost, Kal, a sarcastic and cocky salute, Tommy made his way towards the window that Nora had shattered, bending at the waist in a little bow. “Ladies first, Nora.” Giving one last look back into the apartment, his gaze settled on the bear painting, and then the silly little note for Willow. Maybe the poor little bear hadn’t been taught better than to show kindness to humans. He’d heard of such terrible things before, though hadn’t come across it all that often. “You know I have a feeling we’re gonna get along great! I bet there’s a lot we could teach each other. How do ya feel about jacuzzis?” 

[ushioink]

(Part 2 of Careful,)

The lecture hall is damp from boredom and like minded individuals, and so she puts herself in a spot slightly to the left, in the back where it’s a bit hidden from the nosiness of the students in her History class. She waits for Mrs. Kang to appear as she tinkers with her phone, searching through her images and playing games, considering the internet is banned from inside the actual classrooms for the benefits of busybodies like herself.

Mrs. Kang enters in the same time as the last group of students do, and she stares them down so hard that they quickly skittle down, thanking God that she, from all professors, don’t have that rule in excluding students that come after her. She stares at the glared at students with sick amusement, opening her laptop and turning it on to ready herself in notes taking. However, her small tinge of positive amusement is destroyed when a heavy body slides himself so casually on her seat, the one thing that she had happily bragged to own herself. She looks to the abhorrent nuisance that invaded her personal space, and her neutral face expression shifts into an annoyed one. Seeing this, Baekhyun just grins prettily at her, his straight teeth glinting like diamonds. She wants to gouge his intestines out.

“What are you doing?” She looks down at her laptop in feigned disinterest, even though her eyebrows constantly shift around in a narrow. “No, seriously, what the heck are you doing?”

“Shh, we’re in a lecture hall,” he puts a tall and pretty finger on his lips. “Mrs. Kang had not punished you before because you’re her favorite student, but I won’t take my chances. She knows who I am. I’ve made a ruckus or two,” he seems very proud of this, his eyes flashing smugly, “and I’ve been kicked out of her class a lot. So shush, let me concentrate.”

“All the more reasons for you to fuck off,” she tilts her head a little to the side so she can hiss at him, her hands beginning to type quickly as Mrs. Kang begins her lecture. “I’d rather not be seen here with you. Also, you’re not here to concentrate. You’re here to rip the skin out of my body.” She pretends to shiver violently.

He snickers, and it comes out a little loud. Mrs Kang instantly stops her exciting monologuing (it’s rare to find someone who manages to speak so boringly, and yet excitedly at the same time, but she does so perfectly) to whip her head around, her eyes hawk-like and deadly.

“I hear snickering!” She yells. “Who dares laughing in my class?”

Baekhyun instantly pretends to be an innocent listener, his eyes big and preposterously uncanny. Mrs. Kang ravishes the students with her narrowed, kohl eyes.

“Just because you give me a vague face, doesn’t mean I won’t find you.” The teacher threatens again. Still, no one gives her any response.

She’s a bit astonished that none of the nearby students who actually heard Baekhyun snicker were telling on him. But the surprise quickly vanishes when she looks around at their faces, every single one avoiding Baekhyun’s amused eyes, threat very clear under.

She rolls her eyes.

Mrs. Kang kinda mellows over once no one confesses and she no longer hears laughter, and resumes her lecture with the same vindictive tone that she has been using in the start of the semester.

Immediately after her back is to the class, Baekhyun slides his butt closer to her, until their thighs are a brush away. She gives him a creeped out look, and he simply leans against the table on his elbow, putting his head on his palm. He grins, or smirks. His lips only curl a little, and the devilish glint in his eyes makes him appear dangerous, so she goes with smirking. He is smirking, indeed. For a second, she understands why people are afraid of him. Tremors kinda bloom in her body, but she pushes the irrational emotion out of her system quickly. She turns to the board, focusing on the professor.

Soon, she realizes that he isn’t looking away. He’s staring at her in the same mischievous yet intolerable way. She gives him a thin-lipped smile, apparent in its annoyance. Her eyes wide and irritated. His eyes only twinkle more in that stupid, attractive glint of his that’s entirely evil.

“Yes? Is there something you need, dumbass?” She sighs.

He nods seriously, his face grave. “Yes. I was wondering if you’d be my Twin Flame. The walls to my well. The stone to my heart. The poison to my soul. Oh, be my favorite nightmare.”

She takes one of her blue pens and flicks it on his forehead. It flops pathetically on the floor. He sniggers again - much more quietly - and rubs his surely reddening spot.

“Seriously, I want nothing. I’m just quietly staring at you.”

“For what reason, oh please tell, you’re staring at me for?” She leans towards him as if potentially saying something secretive. “Do you know that staring so intently at someone’s eyes can affect their chakra? So, I’ll just stare right back at you hoping that my laser eyes can negatively make you bend over this desk. I gotta tell you, I have very strong chakra.”

He furrows his eyebrows weirdly. “You believe in this bullshit?”

Her eyes widen a little, but she quickly composes herself to squint instead. “No, I don’t. But I thought someone like you might.”

“I can’t help but have the slightest conclusion that you just called me a loser, which hurts my feelings. It really does.”

“Does it? And here I thought hurting your feelings would require more effort.” She gives him a mocking smile, and then turns to the professor with her default blank face.

He stares at her, a little amused at her odd shenanigans, and wonders how someone like her had slipped from under his eyes. He’s usually a quiet person that makes it his daily struggle to stare people down to scare them, but to see her, a person that’s so easily irritated for completely different reasons than his amusement actually makes him... excited. He hasn’t really considered annoying her today because of their promise to work on their assignment (or just his) but once he came inside the classroom, he remembered her amusing response of yesterday and subconsciously found himself going to her row, seating himself comfortably next to her.

He continues to annoy her throughout the lecture by poking on her shoulder when she concentrates and breaks her focus, or kicking her shin from under the table whenever she’s pulling a funny look at the utter shit Mrs. Kang is spouting so she’d adjust her bold facials into a neutral face, of course for her own benefits. He’d even steal pens from her large - very large - pen collection, throwing the used pen away from her grabby hands only to steal another one right under her nose. She’s disappointed in herself. She thought she has great reflexes, but she’s considered piss poor in comparison to Baekhyun’s fast, dangerous reflexes. Something about his numerous black belts in hapkido, as he easily bragged at her discomforted look towards her stollen utensils.

Of course, she’s hyper aware of the accumulation of stares from everyone piling up her back. She knows she’s being watched; or rather he’s been watched, for some reason their close proximity to one another, and the constant flying arms coming from her part to smack him away has ticked everyone the wrong way. She has been aware, since the start, that his presence so close to her would rise unfiltered attention from nosy students who found it their prime pastime to watch other unsuspecting students. She doesn’t care that much, of course. She has already been a suspect of gossip her entire life for having the personality that she does, but to be stared down at for different reasons than the ones she’s used to... she gotta say. It feels good.

The minute the lecture ends - very, very slowly - she instantly stands up, making her chair squeak. She raises her already collected stuff on her shoulder, turns to a suddenly flustered Baekhyun, and reaches over for his hair. His yelps come quick and excessive, especially when she uses his hair to pull him out of his chair. He complies, of course, so she doesn’t end up ripping his entire hair roots from his head, and follows after her obediently - yet loudly - as she drags him somewhere else. At first he doesn’t say anything, even though he can overpower her easily, because he knows he kinda sorta deserved to be treated like a dog, but the minute he sees her approaching the library (where silence is a requirement he can’t reach) he grabs her wrist and twists her hand as further back as it can go from his hair. It’s her time to yelp.

In response, her claws release his hair from their clutches, and he stands to his full height. Then, he pulls her towards him, or more like jerks her against him in a single gesture, until she bumps roughly into his chest, and pushes her on the wall so she’s stuck between two solid rocks.

She looks up at him with wide eyes. Her heartbeats are racing so fast inside her chest, she’s a little worried she wouldn’t be able to breathe at the end of this escapade. Of course, he looks down at her, his eyes narrowed and dangerous, but still holding a small flicker of childlike smugness. When he’s so close to her like this, she realizes how short she is. At first, she considered him short in comparison to most males in her university, but while he’s pressing her against the library wall like this, she understands that no, he isn’t short.

“Yah,” he calls, but the voice is soft and tender, the kind that makes a prey submit just to be devoured. She refuses to gulp in front of him and instead glares venomously at him. Seeing this, he lowers his face to her, his warm breath falling on her nose, her mouth and chin like waterfalls. “Yah.”

“Is my name yah to you?” She hisses like a snake, giving him her best don’t fuck with me look, even though genuinely, she’s shaking underneath him.

He narrows his eyes at her. “Do you think I let people shove their hands in my hair like that? Do you think people go around dragging me like that?”

She scoffs. She’s burning up from the inside; of course she is. In one hand, she’s not used to being squished like this against walls. In fact, she’s not sure she has ever felt such warmth from a human body encompassing her like this, and she’s not sure the sensation is to her liking. A girl from her background is used to selfish smacks on the head as a meager exposure of emotions, so such little proximity, with a man nevertheless, makes her feel.. strange. He’s not as soft as she first thought of him, as well. He’s all rigidness and soft muscles, and considering she’s as experienced as a squished slug, she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. The way he’s staring down at her, like he’s conscious of the fact he might be in the presence of a cheetah hasn’t gone unnoticed by her, and despite his dumb personality, she has to admit that she likes careful people, especially those careful around her. However, she’s not exactly a flower girl. She refuses to be a flower girl, no matter how much respect she has for flower girls.

She lifts her knee and violently connects it to the man’s junk. She watches in sick, fascinated awe as the man’s face changes. It contorts into a painful scrunch, and quickly, he succumbs to the gravitational pull into the floor. He curls in a heap on the ground, moaning in pain. She huffs, brushes her hair from her sweaty neck - for no specific reason, of course - and glares at the watchful crowd. They quickly flush away like toilet water.

A few minutes after Baekhyun’s fall, she looks down at him as if she’s exhausted from his childish antics, and says. “I don’t let people pin me to walls, either. You’re not that special.”

She twists around dramatically - yes, she knows she’s dramatic - and intends to walk inside the library. But a few seconds later, she realizes that she isn’t being followed, so she pauses. She twists back dramatically (again) and narrows her eyes at the dead body on the floor. “Yah, Aren’t you coming? We have stuff to work on, you know.”

-

She yawns monstrously, and drags her heavy legs towards the convenience store a few minutes away from her tiny apartment in the middle of a neighborhood she has troubles remembering the name of. She bows respectfully at the older man owning the store, being on social terms, enough to be yelling at him without taking responsibility to her stupid anger, and walks further inside.

She shuffles around, her legs feelings like a full body sag as she tries to pull her weight up. Considering she has a certain amount of money she can spend on snacks because of her tight budget, she only chooses the most important snacks to her. For instance, she’s a sweet tooth so she gathers as much chocolate, marshmallows, and fluffy jellies as she can, then settles on two medium sized chip bags. She travels to the beverages’ fridge like a disabled elephant, and takes a few bottles of soda. She is not a fan of beer and soju. Those do nothing to tilt her world upside down anyways. To her, they are a waste of money.

Busy going around the ramen section, she doesn’t notice the tall man that enters the shop. She fails to notice the humongous sneeze that he releases either, shivering like a wet dog, sans the wet part. Her eyes are half-lidded with sleep, and her lips are practically swirly like water with how tired she is because of work, so she only gets attuned to his presence when she smacks into his side.

“Ow,” she mutters pathetically, rubbing her forehead with the hand holding the ramen. She raises her eyes to glare at the fucker, because that’s what she’s good at, even though she’s the one who bumped into him, only to falter when she sees Chanyeol. “Chanyeol?”

“Uh, yeah. Hello?” He sounds awkward, his large hands paused around two packets of ramen himself. He stares down at her because he’s a skyscraper, and that’s what skyscrapers do to align to people; and stares back at the ramen. He stares back at her, again, then at the ramen, nervous at seeing her for whatever reason.

She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “What the heck are you doing in this convenience store? Or in this neighborhood?”

Chanyeol blinks, “I live here?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that answer.” She continues to narrow her eyes at him.

“Okay?”

She rolls her eyes and shuffle away from him. Noticing that she picked everything she needs, she heads for the register to pay for her things. Oddly enough, Chanyeol’s quick to follow her, standing behind her patiently. She tilts her head backwards so she can peek inconspicuously at him, and sees he’s only holding packets of instant ramen. He notices her trying to act slick, and focuses his big eyes on her. She quickly looks away, feeling a burn in the back of her neck.

She pays, and leaves, walking through the endless night of the day, huffing because her bags ended up being heavier than she expected. However, she’s a strong, independent woman, and so she swallows up her growing whine. But that doesn’t stop her from stomping on the ground as she walks further away from the convenience store.

Her loud, angry stomps doesn’t entirely block her from the steps that’s strangely walking after her. She pauses in her strides to check if she’s really hearing things, and the footsteps behind her pauses as well. She turns around suspiciously and finds Chanyeol standing behind her, a confused look on his face.

“Why’d you suddenly stop?” He asks, and she’d have found the question an okay one if she hadn’t already surrendered herself to the growing suspicion in her belly.

Instead of answering his question, she fires a question of her own. “Why are you following me?”

He tilts his head to the side, and a lock of dark hair falls on his left eye, giving him a sense of innocence that contradicts the tight clothes he’s wearing. His leather pants are so snug against him that she wonders how he can even walk, and his leather boots make him appear taller, if that’s even possible. She’s a bit envious of the large jacket that he’s wearing, making him bigger and helping him against the cold nights of January. She has been dumb enough to forget her jacket at work today, and so she’s forced to walk around shivering like a rat.

After she finishes inspecting him like a creep, and remembering the fact he hadn’t answered her question, she goes on her merry way for some reason, noticing that his own footsteps commenced after her. She takes lefts and turns away from her house, to check if he’s following her, and once she makes clear accusation in her mind that he is following her, she swivels around to glare at him. He looks back, eyes entirely vacant of emotions.

“See? You are following me, listen..” she twiddles her toes inside her flats, instantly nervous at the concept of being followed. “I don’t know who you think I am, and I don’t know who you think you are, but kidnapping unsuspecting victims is wrong. Kidnapping any kind of victims is wrong. See, maybe you are failing your classes, and maybe you don’t have a flourishing sex life, and maybe you are into this bad boy bullshit, but trust me, a felony following after your back is bad. It’s very bad for your resumé. Weren’t you the one so careful about the internal scarring of your heart? A felony is so much worse than that, I gotta tell you.”

Chanyeol’s lips curl at the blunder she’s throwing on his way, her usually glaring eyes now shaking in nervousness. He gathers all of his ramen in one arm so he can throw a large hand on his mouth to stop his growing laughter from bursting out. To see a girl like her showing uncharacteristic nervousness, it’s kind of funny, despite evilly knowing it’s causing her an internal meltdown.

She looks at him carefully, eyes prodding, and she fails to notice the fact his raised hand is to cover his laughter, not to knock her out. She eyes him up and down, putting her large bag of bought goodies on her chest as a secure guard against him, even though he seems like he can smack her unconscious with a simple kiddie slap. She swallows, taking a step back.

“Please,” she whimpers, then clears her throat when it shows that she’s whimpering, “I don’t taste good. I have nothing against cannibals, but I have the thought to consider myself distasteful.”

He calls her name to pull her out of her stupidly amusing fear, and she swallows, lifting her head up in false confidence. She notices that his eyes are twinkling, the same devilish sparkle that she associated Baekhyun with. To see them so similar yet different at the same time is unnerving, but she doesn’t focus on that. She’s a bit terrified to be consumed at the moment to think about anything else.

“Listen,” Chanyeol’s low baritone comes out of his lips, and this time he doesn’t push himself to conceal his smile. “I’m not following you. I’m not going to eat you. I don’t like the meat of innocent women.”

She stares at him suspiciously. “You prefer the meat of innocent men? I’m not judging.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t eat people, sweetie.”

She bristles like she has been burned, and she forgets about her flammable fear to give him a cold, deadly look. He falters. “Don’t call me that. Nobody calls me that, Chanyeol.”

He clears his throat, “Right,” he points at the house right behind her, the mirth quickly returning back to his opaque eyes. “My apartment is right behind you. I genuinely was walking home.”

she twists around to observe the house, noticing that it’s a large building with numerous floors. She guesses that he indeed is telling the truth, noticing the small sign on the corner naming the house as a university resident for males. Her face goes all types of colors at having not noticed the actual sign, and she starts to recollect her footsteps to see if she had accidentally just lead the man home. Maybe she is the stalker one. Her embarrassment grows.

She looks back at him, blinking, and he has the audacity to showcase his smug smirk. She clears her throat and squeezes her fingers around her bag, taking a few steps to the side so the giant scraper can get a leeway to enter his home. He does so, but before he can disappear inside; he turns around to give her another amusement-filled look.

She tries to gather her dignity, disliking the fact Chanyeol has seen her on her real act of a little scaredy cat, whether her fear is justified or not, so she clears her throat, swings her bag on her shoulder like a boss, and bellows, “Just so you know, cannibals are disgustingly immoral, whatever immorality is to you. I was just trying to secure myself a safe spot. I do have a lot of judgment against you. Lots and lots of judgments.”

“Good to know that.” Is Chanyeol’s cheeky answer.

She goes home with a stamp of red, crimson blotch all over her face and the back of her neck. For a second she wonders if she can avoid Chanyeol for the rest of her life so this episode of hers can be removed eternally from her internal disk drive, but then she rationalizes that the memory is shared between the two of them, not her alone. Whether she forgets her shameful distastefulness or not, she’s sure he won’t, so she bangs her face to a wall in her living room, believing that her stoic good girl image is ruined, forever.

She just hopes he doesn’t share this with Baekhyun.

-

Author Note:

So maybe the oc is dumb, ahaha.

I really find myself enjoying writing this fic. It’s very different than the characters I usually write, even though the concept is repetitive and cliché.

And yes, they live in the same neighborhood, but it seems that Chanyeol’s university resident is a bit far away from her apartment, thus why the lefts and turns she had to take to guide him away, ahaha.

We can see a bit of distinction in Yeol and Baek’s personalities??? We’ll of course see more of their personalities!

[whenrockwasyoung19]

It’s Time to Talk about a Bespectacled Elephant in the Room

I’ve been in the Beatles fandom for 8 and a half years. I have had a Beatles blog for the entirety of those 8 and a half years, and I have watched as discourse about these four men evolve. The discourse inside and outside the fandom has become so toxic that I don’t think I can engage with it in the same way that I could before. Let me explain. 

When I entered this fandom 8 and a half years ago, it was in 2012, quite an infamous year in tumblr history. That was the pique of “”cringey”” fandom culture. The Beatles fandom was as steeped in fandom culture as any other fandom. I know this because I was part of two of the top of fandoms at the time, Doctor Who and Sherlock. Believe me, I have seen cringe. 

The fandom at the time was totally aware of the John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s flaws as individuals, but most fans tended to simply enjoy Beatles fandom as if it were the 60s. Some might call it ignorant bliss. If you asked me at the time, I’d have said it was self-aware ignorant bliss--if that even makes sense. At the time, there wasn’t a person with a Beatles icon who hadn’t heard the line “John Lennon beat his wife.” Everyone knew it, but everyone also knew the real story, and so everyone just made peace with it. As a result, people didn’t think about every bad thing the Beatles ever did on a daily basis. It was more like a once-a-month kind of thing. Otherwise, fandom discourse was quite fun and relaxed. There were no shipping wars, no one fought over who was the best Beatle, everyone gushed over the Beatles wives, and we all just had fun with fics and fan art. 

Of course, in this period, people engaged in conversations about one bespectacled Beatles problematic behavior. These conversations usually came from outside of the fandom. It was usually randos coming into the tags or into someone’s ask box and ranting about John Lennon’s violent behavior. Some of it came from within the fandom. Some people really didn’t like John and gave others shit if they listed John as their favorite Beatle. A lot of the discourse boiled down to: ‘hey, I see you like John Lennon. You should know that he beat his wife. And now that you know that, you should feel bad about ever liking him in the first place.’ And the response was often, ‘Actually, John Lennon didn’t beat his wife. They weren’t even married at the time. And also he didn’t beat her, he slapped her once in the face, and then never did it again.’ No one’s minds were changed. The fans had made their peace, and the antis came off as cynical and pretentious. 

When Dashcon happened, and Tumblr took a hard look at its cringey fandom culture, the Beatles fandom evolved as well. The fandom became, frankly, less fun. It no longer felt like a group of people who found the Beatles decades after the 60s and were fangirling like it was 1965. There was still some of that left, but a lot of it kind of faded. So, most fandom interactions were reblogging pictures of the Beatles from the 60s and various interview clips and quotes. But the barrage of antis never really went away, and the response didn’t evolve. 

Then, the advent of cancel culture came on. I always waited for the Beatles to get, like, officially canceled, but I also felt they were uncancel-able at the same time. Let me explain. I have been a Beatles fan primarily in an online space, rarely engaging with fans in real life. But I have met fans who are life-long Beatles fans, people who are a lot older than us and who’s fandom isn’t tied to the internet. They don’t give a shit about any of our discourse. They may or may not have heard it before, but they seem totally indifferent to all of it. I’m sure most of them have never heard ‘Mclennon’ before. These are the people that flock to see Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr in concert (and pay astronomical prices for it). These are the people who go to record shops and buy vinyl. These are the people I run into at flea markets who buy up all the Beatles merch before I can even arrive (true story). So, the Beatles will never be canceled because there will always be people who love the Beatles and don’t engage with online discourse. Rarely said, but thank god for Gen-X. 

As cancel culture took over the internet, fandoms changed. It’s not as noticeable in fandoms without problematic favs. For instance, I’m also steeped in the Tom Holland fandom, and that boy is a little angel who has done no wrong. No one has discourse about the unproblematic boy who plays an equally unproblematic character. But in fandoms with ‘problematic favs’ the mood has shifted. I’m also in the Taron Egerton fandom. Taron Egerton, for those who only follow me for my Beatles stuff, is a genuinely sweet and kind person who has had zero scandals in his six year career. There were some rumblings when he was cast as Elton John, and some people took issue with the fact that he’s a straight man playing a gay man. This discourse seemed to die quickly as a whole lot of straight people played gay people in that same year (Olivia Coleman as queer Queen Anne, Emma Stone as her queer lover, Rami Malek as Freddie Mercury). Why jump on this boy who at the time was still technically on the rise. He’s not exactly the same target as someone like Scarlett Johansson who has her pick of roles. Taron doesn’t have quite that some power in Hollywood, and I think most people made peace with the fact that this was a big role for him, and it’s not really fair to take that away from him. So, all in all, the closest thing to a scandal was something that died pretty much on arrival. 

That was until this summer when everything changed. When George Floyd was murdered, celebrities flocked to social media to mourn his loss. Taron’s social media account was silent. For weeks, Taron said nothing about Black Lives Matter or Floyd’s death. This caused outrage in the fandom. Many raced to defend him, starting a hashtage #IstandwithTaron. Others sought to tear him down and anyone who supported him. The kind of mania this one incident caused tore through an otherwise peaceful fandom. What I saw was two sides in a total panic. The antis were people who once had faith that Taron was a good person and were now questioning that. Andthe defenders were people who desperately wanted him to be a good person and were afraid that he wasn’t. In essence, both sides could feel Taron about to get canceled. The defenders wanted to stop it, the antis wanted to ride that wave. 

What this long drawn out Taron example is meant to convey: is that cancel culture has put fandoms on edge. One’s fav has to be perfect, otherwise it can jeopardize the existence of the entire fandom. I’ll admit, I was afraid that I’d be some kind of pariah for standing by Taron through all of this. My actions were to basically reason with the antis but still defend Taron. I defend him mostly because I felt that his silence was the result of a needed social media absence and that trying to shame him back onto social media was an invasion of privacy. But I was genuinely afraid that he would get canceled, and the fun of the Taron fandom would be lost. 

In the Beatles fandom, it often feels like the Beatles, mainly John, have already been canceled. I see this coming from two different sources: antis from outside of the fandom and antis within the fandom. The outside antis are just the same as the ones from 2012. These are people who like to drop in that John Lennon beat his wife, posting this in the tag (which violates an ancient tumblr real by the way--no hate in the tags). 

The antis outside the fandom speak to a larger anti-John Lennon sentiment online. I see references to John Lennon ‘beating his wife’  on Tiktok and twitter. The tone of anti-John Lennon posts has shifted. Before, it felt like the antis were being smug but also argumentative. They wanted to have a conversation about this bit of info they read on Reddit with no context. Now, “John Lennon beating his wife” is practically a meme. It’s a running joke online that John Lennon was a wife beater. I can’t look on my instagram explore page because every so often a John Lennon beats his wife meme will pop up amongst the other, normal, memes.

This change in discourse suggests that the internet has just accepted this as fact now. I should note that back in 2012, it seemed as if few people knew this fact. The fandom knew it, and these random antis knew it, but few others did. Now, because of how common these memes are, it seems to be widespread knowledge.

Consequently, the Beatles fandom, who used to ward off attacks from antis, seems to have given in. I recently saw a post from a Beatles blog (had the URL and icon and everything) that confessed they felt guilty for listening to the Beatles, and I’ve seen similar sentiments expressed in the fandom. People tend to put disclaimers in posts about John or even all four that John is an ‘awful man.’ It seems like the self-aware ignorant bliss has completely gone away. Occasionally, I still see posts joyously talking about Mclennon or reblogs of old photos from the 60s. But the culture has shifted. 

Online, it no longer feels comfortable to be a Beatles fan. It feels like you have to own up to 8 decades of mistakes by four men you’ve never met. And, I should note, this is kind of how it feels to be a fan of anything right now. Taron is not canceled today, but he could be tomorrow. It’s this pervasive feeling of guilt that the person you’re supporting may or definitely has or is doing something wrong.

I’ll admit this uncomfortable feeling has expanded into other parts of my fandom life. I listen to their music, and I feel elated--the way I always have. Then, I get these intrusive thoughts which sound like all the worst parts of Twitter combined. It wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, when I knew almost nothing about them, I saw them as four young men who were full of happiness, love for another, and talent. Back then, listening to their music was exciting and joyous. Sometimes, I fear that I can never feel that way again. Next year, when I finally go to Liverpool, will I be filled with excitement or guilt? 

I say all this for a few reasons. One, I love John Lennon. I appreciate all the good he did for the world not just as a musician and an artist but also his advocacy and charity work. I love him, and a part of me will always love him, but observing the change in discourse has enlightened me as a historian. Part of my job is to observe people’s legacies, and John’s is perhaps the most interesting legacy I’ve ever observed. When he died, he was hailed as a saint. But tall poppy syndrome set in, and the antis started. This culture grew and grew to the point where it seems to, at least among the younger generation, taken over the sainthood. 

But as a historian and a fan, I have never seen the saint or the devil. I’ve only seen the man, the incredibly flawed man. The thing that these antis never understand is that John Lennon was painfully aware of his own flaws to the point where it made him all the more self-destructive. In essence, his past mistakes caused him to make additional mistakes. But John, aware of his own flaws, always tried to change and was often successful. I’ve talked about this before, but John demonstrated that he was capable of being a good person, like properly so, again and again. After he struck Cynthia, he never hit her again. His shortcomings as a father to Julian weren’t repeated with Sean. He worked on his drinking, his drug addiction, and his anger, trying to overcome those demons till the day he died. By all accounts, the John Lennon that died in 1980 is not the John Lennon who struck Cynthia Powell at school. That John Lennon was living a cleaner, healthier life. He was a better father to both his sons by that point, and was trying to repair his relationship with Julian. He was a good husband to Yoko and saw himself living a long and happy life. 

John Lennon cannot and should not be boiled down to just his flaws. It’s one thing as a fan to acknowledge that John is a flawed human being (news flash: they all are), but he is also much bigger than that. 

So once again, why am I writing this long, rambling post, once again talking about John Lennon’s virtues? Because if I can’t engage with healthy discourse about the Beatles and John Lennon, then I can’t engage with discourse on the topic at all. So, I probably will post less Beatles stuff because I find it hard to go through the tags or even my dash (well, I can’t really go through my dash anymore for other reasons I’m not going to get into right now). If any of my followers have noticed a lot of Taron posts lately, it’s not just because I love Taron, it’s because Taron’s  tag is pretty much the only location on tumblr I feel 100% comfortable in. Any foray into John or the Beatles tags becomes uncomfortable and guilt-ridden quickly. 

So, I probably will post less about the Beatles until I can find a blog or a tag that doesn’t give me bad vibes. My fandom will likely outgrow tumblr and the internet. I have a ton of Beatles books; maybe I’ll rely on those. I am doing official scholarly research on them now. Maybe that will be my outlet. I’m sorry if I post less about them now, but it’s really for my own well-being. 

[whitehotharlots]

Andrea Long Chu is the sad embodiment of the contemporary left

Andrea Long Chu’s Females was published about a year ago. It was heavily hyped but landed with mostly not-so-great reviews, and while I was going to try and pitch my own review I figured there was no need. Going through my notes from that period, however, I see how much Chu’s work—and its pre-release hype—presaged the sad state of the post-Bernie, post-hope, COVID-era left. I figured they’d be worth expanding upon here, even if I’m not getting paid to do so.

Chu isn’t even 30 years old, and Females is her debut book, and yet critics were already providing her with the sort of charitable soft-handedness typically reserved for literary masters or failed female political candidates. This is striking due to the purported intensity of the book: a love letter to would-be assassin Valerie Solanas, the thesis of which is that all humans are female, and that such is true because female-ness is a sort of terminal disease stemming not from biology but from one’s inevitable subjugation in larger social contexts. Everyone is a woman because everyone suffers. Big brain shit.

But, of course, not everyone is a female. Of course. Females are females only some of the time. But, also, everyone is a female. Femaleness is just a title, see. Which means it can be selectively applied whenever and however the author chooses to apply it. The concept of “female” lies outside the realm of verifiability. Suggesting to subject it to any form of logic or other means of adjudication means you’re missing the point. Femaleness simply exists, but only sometimes, and those sometimes just so happen to be identifiable only to someone possessed with as a large a brain as Ms. Chu. We are past the need for coherence, let alone truth or honesty. And if you don’t agree that’s a sign that you are broken—fragile, illiterate, hateful, humorless.

Chu’s writing—most famously, her breakthrough essay “On Liking Women”—establishes her prose style: long, schizophrenic paragraphs crammed with unsustainable metaphors meant to prove various fuzzy theses simultaneously. Her prose seems kinda sorta provocative but only when read on a sentence-by-sentence level, with the reader disregarding any usual expectations of cohesion or connection.

This emancipation from typical writerly expectations allows Chu to wallow proudly in self-contradiction and meaninglessness. As she notes herself, explicitly, meaning isn’t the point. Meaning doesn’t even exist. It’s just, like, a feeling:

I mean, I don’t like pissing people off per se. Yes, there is a pleasure to that sometimes, sure. I think that my biggest takeaway from graduate school is that people don’t say things or believe things—they say them because it makes them feel a particular way or believing them makes them feel a particular way. I’ve become hyper aware of that, and the sense in which I’m pissing people off is more about bringing that to consciousness for the reader. The reason you’re reacting against this is not because it contradicts what you think is true, it’s because it prevents you from having the feeling that the thing you think is the truth lets you feel.

And so she can get away with saying that of course she doesn’t actually believe that everyone is a female, the same as her idol Valerie Solanas didn’t actually want to kill all men. The writers, Chu and Valerie, are just sketching out a dumb idea as a fun little larf, to see how far they can push a manifestly absurd thought. If they just so happen to shoot a gay man at point blank range and/or make broader left movements so repulsive that decent people get driven away, so be it. And if any snowflakes complain about their tactics, well that’s just proof of how right they are. Provocation is justification—the ends and the means. The fact that this makes for disastrous and harmful politics is beside the point. All that matters is that Chu gets to say what she wants to say.

This blunt rhetorical move—which is difficult to describe without sounding like I’m exaggerating or making stuff up, since it’s so insane—papers over Chu’s revanchist and violent beliefs. Her work is soaked with approving portrayals of Solanas’ eliminationist rhetoric—of course, Chu doesn’t’ actually mean it, even though she does. Men are evil, even as they don’t really fully exist since everyone is a woman, ergo eliminating men improves the world. Chu goes so far as to suggest that being a trans woman makes her a bigger feminist than Solanas or any actual woman could ever be, because the act of her transitioning led to the world containing fewer men. Again: big brain shit.

I’ll leave it to a woman to comment on the imperiousness of a trans woman insisting that she is bestest and realest kind of woman, that biological women are somehow flawed imposters. I will stress, however, that such a claim comes as a means of justifying a politically disastrous assertion that more or less fully justifies the most reactionary gender critical arguments, which regard all trans women as simply mentally ill men (this line of reasoning is so incredibly stupid that even a dullard like Rod Drehar can rebut it with ease). Trans activists have spent years establishing an understanding of transsexualism as a matter of inherent identity—whether or not you agree with that assertion, you have to admit that it has political propriety and has gone a long way in normalizing transness. Chu rejects this out of hand, embracing instead the revanchist belief that transness is attributable to taking sexual joy in finding oneself embarrassed and/or feminized—an understanding of womanhood that is simultaneously essentialist and tokenizing. When asked about the materially negative potential in expressing such a belief, Chu reacts with a usual word salad of smug self-contradiction: 

EN: You say in the book that sissy porn was formative of your coming to consciousness as a trans woman. If you hadn’t found sissy porn, do you think it’s possible that you might have just continued to suffer in the not-knowing?

ALC: That’s a really good question. It’s plausible to me that I never would have figured it out, that it would have taken longer.

EN: How does that make you feel? Is that idea scary?

ALC: It isn’t really. Maybe it should be a little bit more, but it isn’t really. One of the things about desire is that you can not want something for the first 30 years of your life and wake up one day and suddenly want it—want it as if you might as well have always wanted it. That’s the tricky thing about how desire works. When you want something, there’s a way in which you engage in a kind of revisionism, the inability to believe that you could have ever wanted anything else.

EN: People often talk about the ubiquity of online porn as a bad thing—I’ve heard from lots of girlfriends that men getting educated about sex by watching porn leads to bad sex—but there seems to me a way in which this ubiquity is helping people to understand themselves, their sexuality and their gender identity.

ALC: While I don’t have the research to back this up, I would certainly anecdotally say that sissy porn has done something in terms of modern trans identity, culture, and awareness. Of course, it’s in the long line of sexual practices like crossdressing in which cross-gender identification becomes a key factor. It’s not that all of the sudden, in 2013, there was this thing and now there are trans people. However, it is undoubted that the Internet has done something in terms of either the sudden existence of more trans people or the sudden revelation that there are more trans people than anyone knew there were. Whether it’s creation or revelation, I think everyone would agree that the internet has had an enormous impact there.

One of the things I find so fascinating about sissy porn is that it’s not just that I can hear about these trans people who live 20 states away from me and that their experiences sound like mine. There is a component of it that’s just sheer mass communication and its transformative effect, but another part of it is that the internet itself can exert a feminizing force. That is the implicit claim of sissy porn, the idea that sissy porn made me trans is also the idea that Tumblr made me trans. So, the question there is whether or not the erotic experience that became possible with the Internet actually could exert an historically unique feminizing force. I like, at least as a speculative claim, to think about how the Internet itself is feminizing.

Politics, like, don’t matter. So, like, okay, nothing I say matters? So it’s okay if I say dumb and harmful shit because, like, they’re just words, man.

Chu can’t fully embrace this sort of gradeschool nihilism, though, because if communication was truly as meaningless as she claims then any old critic could come along and tell her to shut the fuck up. Even as she claims to eschew all previously existing means of adjudicating morality and coherence, she nonetheless relies on the cheapest means of making sure she maintains a platform: validation via accreditation. This is all simple victimhood hierarchy. Anyone who does not defer all of their own perceptions to someone higher up the hierarchy is inherently incorrect, their trepidations serving to validate the beliefs of the oppressed:

I like to joke that, as someone who is always right, the last thing I want is to be agreed with. [Laughs] I think the true narcissist probably wants to be hated in order to know that she’s superior. I absolutely do court disagreement in that sense. But what I like even better are arguments that bring about a shift in terms along an axis that wasn’t previously evident. So it’s not just that other people are wrong; it’s that their wrongness exists within a system of evaluation which itself is irrelevant.

Chu has summoned the most cynical possible interpretation of Walter Ong’s suggestion that “Writing is an act of violence disguised as an act of charity.” Of course, any effective piece of communication requires some degree of persuasion, convincing a reader, listener, viewer, or user to subjugate their perceptions to those of the communicator. Chu creates—not just leans on or benefits from, but actively posits and demands fealty to—the suggestion that her voice is the only one deserving of attention by virtue of it being her own. That’s it. That’s what all her blathering and bluster amount to. Political outcomes do not matter. Honesty does not matter. What matters is her, because she is her. 

This is the inevitable result of a discourse that prizes a communicator’s embodied identity markers more than anything those communicators are attempting to communicate, and in which a statement is rendered moral or true based only upon the presence or absence of certain identity markers. Lived experience trumps all else. A large, non-passing trans woman is therefore more correct than pretty much anyone else, no matter how harmful or absurd her statements may be. She is also better than them. And smarter. And gooder.

Designating lived experience and subjective feelings of safety as the only acceptable forms of adjudication has caused the left to prize individualism to a degree that would have made Ronald Reagan blush. And this may explain the lukewarm reception of Chu’s book.

While they heaped praise upon her before the books’ release, critics backed off once they realized that Females is an embarrassingly apt reflection of intersectional leftism—a muddling, incoherent mess, utterly disconnected from any attempt toward persuasion or consensus, the product of a movement that has come to regard neurosis as insight. The deranged mewlings of a grotesque halfwit are only digestable a few pages at a time. Any more than that, and we begin to see within them far too much of the things that define our awful movement and our terrifying moment.

[elena-mayfair]

You’re allowed to have your opinions about whatever you want, but at your big age, I know you’re smart enough to know that your opinion was an uneducated one filled with assumptions and grand generalizations about people you don’t know. Many dark fics writers and readers are victims of assault themselves who feel that engaging in these fics gives them back a sense of control unlike in that particular situation(s) where they had none. Women who enjoy being submissive or in situations where they are submissive doesn’t equate to low self esteem. There’s literally no correlation. These fandoms are huge. There’s no shortage of writers who don’t write dark fics. You’re simply not looking for them because the dark fic community or whatever is relatively small. 1 in 3 women actually have rape fantasies. They’re very common. You just happen to come across those who write about it. Your post wasn’t about curiosity or questions and you know it. It was holier than thou and filled with judgement and your giddiness to look down on something you don’t understand nor have any intentions of understanding. It was filled with stuff you literally just pulled out of your head. No research. No actually reading up on why women fantasize about these things. Nothing. Just pure ignorance and vibes and you have the audacity to be shocked when people took offense to it. As an SA victim myself, I would never tell another how they should cope with their trauma. I could never even fix my mouth to do such a thing bc my experience is not everyone’s and anyone with common sense can understand that

I was very hesitant about replying to you and I wanna start by saying that I really really really don’t want to start the fight again. It wasn’t my intention in a first place, believe me or not. But there are few things that need to be clarify and I wanna take this opportunity to do that since the dust seems to settle on my post. So I’m sorry but it’s going to be long reply, partially to you partially to the people who commented under my OP, if they decide to read it.

Starting from a thing that annoys me the most, I never said anything about how people should cope with their trauma. What I said is that if someone gets turned on by reading about this kind of things, they should work on their self esteem, that is what I said (hold your hate, hide the torches, I’ll elaborate). I never said something on the line “if you find this helpful or healing you should work on your self esteem”. So please don’t twist my words. I know how difficult is dealing with trauma, and I’m not talking about rape trauma per say but trauma in general, so it would never even cross my mind.

Before you get angry, I wasn’t referring to the people who are into kink as general group. I wrote specifically that I “I get that people have different fantasies I do get that (...) I enjoy a bit of kink” - so no, I wasn’t condemning all people who are into all kinds of kink. I never expressed any hate towards people who are into it. Hate, pitchforks and torches came from the other side. Anyway, in my eyes there is a difference between kinky and straight disturbing. There is a difference between being submissive and being raped. People chose to read that as an personal attack on them and it is kinda obvious that I wasn’t referring to them, people who are into kink. You, they (I don’t know how to phrase this) you know how it works, what is a part of fantasy etc. something I personally know very little about because I’m not into it. Buuuuut, there are people out there who, like me, come across this type of content and upon discovering it are being shocked and horrified. And I’m sorry, you are aware that it’s coming from someone “outside of circle”, but I read some things which were truly horrifying. And again, I’m not referring to all of the kinky stuff, in my OP I was specifically referring to rape, degradation, breeding kink, non-con, forced pregnancy, very extreme things. I read through some truly horrifying things, rapes so violent that it makes Irreversible a rom-com. And comments under this kind of fiction weren’t about healing and helping but were indications of getting turned on, rounds of applause and appreciation for the author. And I’m sorry but for a life of my I don’t see how this might be helpful for an author or a reader who is a rape victim especially since the outcome of the rape rarely tackled. There is no aftermath, no repercussions for the abuser, no consequences for the abuser, nothing, just a plain violent act of rape. And yes, for someone who is “outside of the circle” it can look like normalization and erotization of a rape. But you know, it is an opinion if an ignorant.

Continuing, I’m sure you are aware that content can be read by people from “outside of circle” (and yes I will keep using that phrase from lack of better one). And believe it or not I wasn’t searching for it. Searching tag Steve Rogers x reader gave my only this type of fics for pages upon pages. Like I said before, perhaps Tumblr should work on their search engine. Going back to people “outside of the circle”, some will shake it off and move on, some will stay and maybe get into it more, and some well might take it on face value, in a very wrong way. Because you won’t convince me that art does not have impact on a real life, it does, it always did. And yes you are right, this is coming from my head, those are feelings and thoughts of a common folk. I’m sure you must be aware of potential danger of this kind of, let’s say themes, for someone who is “outside of the circle”. Let’s stretch our imagination for a sec: young girl come across this. She’s innocent, just discovering her sexuality, curiosity is the thing. And let’s be honest, forbidden fruit always tastes the best so of course she will ignore warnings. Around the same time she starts dating a guy, he’s not a very nice guy. They’re getting together and she’s not ready but we’ll he’s more than needing. So she thinks about all the things she read and maybe starts thinking that guys are into this, she doesn’t have much experience. So instead of running she becomes another rape victim. Or let’s look at this from the other perspective, a guys come across this kind of fiction and starts thinking that, hmm, maybe girls are into it. And next time he won’t take no for an answer, he will take this as an encouragement. Yeah, that is a possibility. And I don’t know how can I stress this enough, but it is only one of possible scenarios. That truly doesn’t mean that I’m hating or, damn this is ridiculous, kink-shaming people who are into kink. I’m simply presenting a scenario. Scenario from the point of view of a common folk, someone “outside of the circle”. And yes, yes, I read in the comments counter argument about violent games etc but we are not talking about this, and in my opinion it is just invalid argument. No one in their right mind will start killing people after playing a violent game. However sexuality is much more delicate subject, especially since power dynamics between man and a woman were always a difficult subject.

You saying that my post was filled with generalization, and yes you are absolutely right. It wasn’t targeted specifically toward people who are into kink, who am I to judge, I really really don’t give a flying fuck about what people do behind closed doors. It was about the sheer ridiculousness of the world we’re living in. That’s why I brought up subject of equal rights etc. Because we, society, as people, we are jumping from one opposite side of the extreme to another. On one hand women are fighting for equal rights, on the other hand we are taking all the power from women in the fiction, on one hand we are talking about toxic masculinity on the other we write about rape, on one hand women in some countries are fight for right to their bodies, on the other we are writing about forced impregnation. And I know, I know, one is a fiction an the other is a real life, it’s not for everyone, and so on. I get that. I’m painting a picture here. Picture of society which is swapping one extreme to another. And like I said before, this kind of fiction is being read not only by people who are into kink, but by common people, who know very little about it. And I’m sure you are aware, that common people can see it that way, and for common people rape fantasy is not normal, as in commonly accepted by society.

Anyways, this is longer than I wanted it to be. Like i said at the beginning, I have no intention in starting another fight. I never had intention like that in a first place believe it or not. For years I was a quiet Tumblr user, enjoying content that enjoy in my little part of the internet. You can check out my blog if you don’t believe me. So I won’t shit into your nest anymore, I’m going to crawl back to my little hole from which I crawled out. Enjoying content as I was before. And yes, I discovered filtering ;)

[ask-the-good-creeps]

i’m curious as to why ben and jeff hang out so much. is there any particular reason why?

//Be forewarned, young one. The story of how these two started their friendship is not for the faint of heart. It’s a friendship forged upon mutual understanding of each other’s deepest traumas and regrets. If you can handle shedding a few tears today...feel free to read on, and know as you read that until now Jeff, BEN, and Smile were the only three who knew this story.//

Secrets, Exposed

“Shut up! Everything was better before you showed up! Why can’t you just go away and leave me alone?! I hate you!”

The little girl in front of him had been six years old at the time. Only six…but that didn’t matter in the moment. He was a ten-year-old boy who had developed a short fuse thanks to the abuse he sustained day in and day out. He had made a habit of lashing out at other kids about the smallest of things over the past few years, and she was no exception to that.

All she’d done is ask him to play with her; he’d refused, she asked again – as young children do. It was an inconvenient time for him and an annoyance that she wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, but the situation didn’t exactly warrant his overreaction.

Now she was crying, and before he could say anything further she ran off into the front yard.

--------------

           He couldn’t do anything back then. He had been a kid…just a stupid, short-tempered, ridiculous kid. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

           The poltergeist had had a few things on his to-do list when he first woke up in the lake. After facing the trauma of an untimely demise through violent murder and the horrors of The Between that followed shortly after, he was relieved to find himself with a second chance (of sorts) in the living world.

           He eliminated his murderer so nobody else would have to suffer at the bastard’s hands. He found a way to let himself into powerlines and grids, as well as the Internet so he could travel to any place and learn anything he damn-well pleased.

           He realized then that he was no longer limited. He could do something now.

           He started looking for her. He scoured the Dark Web, online chats and seedy sites, every digital place he could. He still found nothing but dead ends and horribly disturbing possibilities. He didn’t want to admit that he needed help, but he knew he’d never find her without it. This wasn’t his area of expertise, and her life meant more than his pride as far as he was concerned.

           When another not-so-human contact of his first mentioned the eternally-grinning vigilante, he wasn’t interested in the guy in the slightest…but the guy’s standard victimology was another story. His contact had told him that nobody in their little network – and likely nobody else in the world – could ever do better at tracking down and eliminating human traffickers and small-time kidnappers alike.

           That’s how he’d ended up here. He kept himself invisible as most spirits could while he waited. This old house had been condemned many years ago. The building was falling apart, and the empty interior was defined by peeling paint, rotting wood, and the ever-present scent of mold that may or may not have been toxic. It made no difference to BEN. It was unpleasant, but he couldn’t die a second time.

           It didn’t take much longer for him to hear the front door creak open. The sound was nearly silent, but any noise was clear and obvious in this long-forgotten place. There were footsteps next – two sets that were both light and quick.

           BEN watched them come around the corner into the room where he’d been waiting. The first to step in was a red and black creature of canine origin. It bore an impossibly large, unsettling grin full of sharp teeth, and its eyes found BEN’s location immediately and stayed fixed on him. The canine’s human-like partner came in soon after.

           The poltergeist took in his appearance. He was tall and muscular underneath the maroon-stained hoodie he wore. His greasy black hair hung to his shoulders in thick strands that contrasted strongly against his pale, mottled skin. His face was what uniquely identified him as the man BEN was looking for; the Cheshire grin carved into his cheeks stood out proudly. From a distance, it would completely override his true expression, which reflected caution now.

           He stood still in the room with his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Most would think he had assumed he and his dog were alone, but BEN knew the man was nearly blind. He was listening to verify who was in here. While the green-clad spirit doubted he could be heard, he knew the man was likely aware of his presence regardless.

           “Hello, Jeff.” BEN greeted after a few minutes of silence as he let himself take form. The man, Jeff, focused his gaze on him despite most likely only viewing him as a silhouette. Jeff offered a grunt of acknowledgement as he regarded BEN, but nothing further. His stance indicated that he was waiting to be told why he’d been called here. He showed no signs of impatience, but BEN had a hunch he wanted to be somewhere else.

           “We’re both busy people, so let’s not beat around the bush here. I need to find someone, and I hear you’re my best shot at making it happen.”

           “I’m not a bloodhound for hire. If the someone you’re after is someone I’m able to find, I’ll be the one to kill them. You don’t need to be part of the equation.” Jeff’s voice was cold and raspy, and his words set BEN’s face into a scowl. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again to avoid saying something to offend Jeff. Normally he wouldn’t care about upsetting the guy, but he needed help.

           “You misunderstand,” BEN started, “I’m after…an old friend…who disappeared a little over a year ago. I just need to find her, and I haven’t found any leads on my own. Just point me in the right direction – that’s all I’m asking.”

           Jeff didn’t respond right away. He seemed to be considering it, but BEN didn’t know for sure and he wasn’t about to overstep any boundaries to find out.

           “I can make it worth your while. What do you want in exchange for your service?” BEN asked.

           “Nothing. No deal.” Jeff shook his head and turned around to go back the way he came. BEN growled at the rude dismissal and appeared in front of Jeff again.

           “Why not?” the poltergeist demanded.

           “Does it matter?” Jeff replied emotionlessly. The casual tone was enough to set BEN over the edge.

           “Yes, it does matter! She matters! She’s only seven years old now – you of all people should know what kind of Hell she must be going through! You’re telling me you’re willing to spend all your energy finding someone to murder, but you won’t put that same effort toward finding someone to save? What the fuck is wrong with you?! How can you call yourself a vigilante?!”

“I never called myself a vigilante.” Jeff replied as his face worked into a frown. BEN opened his mouth to rant further, but Jeff cut him off. “If this friend of yours was six and she was taken over a year ago, what makes you think she’s even still alive?”

Those words were more effective than anything at silencing the young poltergeist. He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t wanted to. Now that he was being confronted with the possibility, he couldn’t find words to answer with. BEN opened his mouth and shut it a few times, while Jeff waited silently for a reply.

“She has to be. She has to be.” BEN wasn’t able to say anything else. He refused to believe it could be possible that she was gone forever.

Jeff sighed. He knew based on the info he’d been given here that this friend of BEN’s only had a ten percent chance of being found alive after all this time, fifteen percent maximum; but he could hear the desperation in his voice and had a strong feeling the ghoul wouldn’t leave him be until he agreed.

“Fine. I’ll help. Where was she last seen?” BEN’s face momentarily reflected shock, but it faded quickly as he started to give Jeff all of the information he had. Jeff promised to help locate her, but made it very clear that he made no promises of finding her alive. And so it began.

---------------------

           BEN would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least mildly irked with himself. He’d been searching for months to no avail, but it only took Jeff a couple weeks to get a solid lead. Jeff knew these monsters, though – how they thought, how they planned, where they’d go. He had better insight into these twisted minds than BEN could ever hope to have, and that’s what made him the best.

           They had gone through several rings now. She had been sold and bought several times since her disappearance, always by outsiders, it seemed. Now they were at the end of the lead. The final stop. If she wasn’t here…

           “Stay out here.” Jeff had ordered.

           “What? No, I’m coming in!” BEN countered with a glare. They were outside the house where she was supposed to be. He couldn’t just wait out here.

           “Listen, kid. I’ve seen what kinda conditions these fuckers leave their toys in. If she’s in there, you don’t want to see her like that. Just wait here for me - I’ll handle it.”

           Jeff walked away toward the house then without waiting for BEN’s reply. The poltergeist huffed and crossed his arms while he waited for something to happen. His foot tapped impatiently on the damp grass despite how little time had gone by.

           He started to pace after he saw Jeff go around the side of the house and leave his view. Seven steps forward, turn around, seven steps back the way he came, turn around…he kept going, his impatience growing with each step. He stopped when he heard a shout inside the house, and after a couple seconds of debate with himself he went in after Jeff.

           The livingroom was trashed, but devoid of life. He heard talking in the kitchen and went in to find Jeff, who was keeping a middle-aged, balding man pinned to the wall. The vigilante’s knife was pressed into the skin of the terrified homeowner’s throat, but not hard enough to draw blood…yet.

           The homeowner was pleading for his life, begging Jeff to let him go, promising not to tell anyone about him, the whole nine yards. Jeff obviously wasn’t listening anymore. He had the information he needed.

           “Well?” BEN demanded. Jeff heaved a deep sigh and hauled the man to his knees in front of BEN.

           “I warned you.” Jeff answered quietly. It took BEN a moment to process what the grinning man meant by that statement. The poltergeists teeth clenched as tight as his fists, and the lights in the house started flickering wildly as he fixed his harshest glare on the pathetic creature in front of him.

           “Where is she?!” the ghoul demanded. The bastard was terrified out of his mind as he attempted to stutter out an answer. It wasn’t good enough for BEN.

           “If you aren’t going to tell me, I’ll make you show me!” the blond was so firmly entrenched in the maelstrom of his own wrath, he barely registered Jeff shouting for him not to do it. He latched his cold, water-bloated, decaying fingers around the bastard’s head and dug into his memories.

           Jeff had been right about these images being things he wouldn’t want to see. Part of BEN wished he’d listened…but the other part of him – the stronger part – told him that she’d had to live through this nightmare because of him. It was his fault she’d suffered so much. The least he could do is try to understand that suffering.

           BEN yelled out in frustration as he reached the last memory the lowlife had of her. He threw the bastard away from him and the twisted head he’d just been looking through smacked painfully hard against the wall. The body slumped over underneath the new bloodstain on the wall, and BEN left him there awkwardly folded in half as he yelled again. This time the force of his rage shattered every lightbulb in the house and left them in complete darkness.

           Jeff watched this all happen silently. An ‘I told you so’ definitely wasn’t the right thing to say here – Jeff may have been cold, but he wasn’t that cruel. BEN stormed out through the back door and Jeff followed him. He knew the ghoul could more or less teleport away if need be, so he was curious about why he chose to walk instead…and where he was going. BEN’s gait was purposeful; he was a man on a mission.

           He listened as the ghoul stopped next to a slow-moving river. Jeff had heard stories here and there about BEN. He knew the guy had an aversion to water due to the circumstances of his death…and yet, he heard the splash as BEN reached his arm into the river and felt around. The blond seemed to find what he was looking for, and seconds later Jeff heard another splash and a series of dripping noises, followed by a light thump as what was pulled from the water was lowered onto soft dirt.

           BEN sank to his knees next to the wet burlap sack. It had been sewn shut, and BEN could feel the weight of the rocks that had held it at the bottom of the river. He wanted to tear it open, but he hesitated. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

           Another sound tore from his throat, but this one wasn’t a yell. It was a sob, and it was soon followed by another. He was too late. It was his fault. The horrible possibility he hadn’t wanted to consider was right there in front of him now – there was no way to deny it anymore. Thick, dark liquid slithered down his cheeks in place of tears as he released sounds of the deepest pain he’d ever known.

           He felt someone sit next to him, felt an arm around his shoulders. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was surprised to find Jeff holding him in a clear attempt at being comforting…but that wasn’t his main concern now. Jeff held him closer and rubbed his arm while he let it out, like the older brother he’d never had. BEN’s sobbing died down after a while, but the pain he felt was nowhere near fading.

           “The last thing I said to her was…I hate you.” The poltergeist sniffled, and the statement hung in the silent night air between them for a few moments.

           “Did you hate her?”

           “No! I just…I wanted her to leave me alone for a while. I guess I got what I wished for.” BEN’s answer was heavy with remorse and bitterness alike. There was another long pause.

           “You never told me who she was to you.” Jeff replied. There was no warmth in his voice, but none of the coldness BEN had come to expect from the man was there either.

           “My…sister,” BEN answered, “Rosie was my little sister.”

           “It’s not your fault.” Jeff said quietly.

           “How could it not be? If I’d just agreed to play with her that day, she wouldn’t have been taken! She ran outside because I made her cry! She got kidnapped because of me!” BEN’s voice was raised, but lacking anger. The fiery rage he’d felt before had been extinguished, the sorrow and loss had all leaked down his cheeks…now he just felt the crushing weight of the guilt that he’d been holding onto since she vanished that day.

“He didn’t even care. Nobody did. The police stopped looking and said there was nothing they could do. He just drank more and took down all the photos of her in the house, like she was never there! I’m the only one…the only one who remembered her. I’m the only one who cared, and she died thinking I hated her.” He let out another sob, but it was just the sound. He didn’t have any tears left to add to it. Jeff waited for him to be done and pulled him in for a proper hug.

“I’ve survived being tormented by these fuckers. I’ve been hunting them down for ages. You said yourself that I know how they think better than anyone,” Jeff started, “So listen to me when I tell you that it wasn’t your fault. The guy who took her was planning it. He’d been targeting her for weeks, remember? Even if you’d agreed to play with her that day, it wouldn’t have deterred him. He would’ve done it another day – Hell, he might’ve even kicked your ass to drag her away – and there wouldn’t have been much you could do. You were a kid. He was an evil bastard that did something unforgiveable. All of this was his fault, not yours. It wasn’t your fault, BEN. It wasn’t your fault.”

The words weren’t getting through to him. BEN couldn’t believe any of it.

“I’m her big brother. It was my job to protect her.” He cried.

“No. It’s the responsibility of the adults around you to keep you safe when you’re a kid. They failed you, and they failed her. None of this is on you. It’s not your fault.” Jeff held him tighter and continued to reassure him. BEN was inconsolable, nonetheless. He felt a drop of water his head, and wondered if it was starting to rain.

Wouldn’t that be poetic? He thought to himself morosely. He pulled away from Jeff and looked up, but didn’t see a single cloud in the night sky. He looked at Jeff and noticed the liquid running down the man’s cheeks. He hadn’t expected it. He’d thought Jeff was a borderline sociopath this whole time. Jeff wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, but didn’t make a sound. How long had he been crying?

“How do you want to send her off?” Jeff asked as he gestured vaguely in the direction of the bag. BEN hadn’t thought about it before. He looked at the rough sack that contained what remained of Rosie; it was hard to believe she’d met the same terrible fate he had in the end. She’d been alive when the bag was thrown into the water. She’d drowned like he had. He remembered the fear, the burning of his insides despite how cold the water felt on his skin, the sudden feeling of calm as his life slipped away from him. He remembered The Between. Was she lost in there, as he had been? Had she managed to leave it?

“BEN?” the poltergeist looked back at Jeff as he was pulled from his thoughts.

“Cremation.” He stated simply. Jeff nodded slowly.

“I know a guy who can help with that. What will you do with the ashes?”

---------------------

           The urn was heavy in his hands. Jeff’s contact had offered the nice silver one. BEN had mentioned he wasn’t going to keep her, but the guy had insisted he have something nice to hold her in. The green-clad spirit appreciated that gesture now.

           He stood on the roof of the barn and looked out over the fields and pasture below. There were no cows, no horses, no pigs, no people. Everything he remembered here was gone, save for the hollow structures on the land. This farm had belonged to their maternal grandparents. They’d passed shortly after Mom did, but BEN still remembered them. He and Rosie had both loved visiting here when they were young…this was the only place BEN knew that held only good memories for them both.

           The sun was setting now. He watched the sky be painted with vibrant pinks and purples as it went. He could hear her little voice next to him, marveling at how pretty it looked; then the ghost of the memory faded, replaced with the throbbing ache where his heart was supposed to be. He held tight to the urn, knowing what he had to do, but reluctant to actually do it. Nobody had ever told him how hard it was to let go.

           Time didn’t slow for him. The sun continued its descent and he knew he wouldn’t have much time before it was gone. He wanted her to see it. He wanted the light to be there for her. He took off the lid of the urn and held it out in front of him. The universe seemed to call her home; a gust of wind came to carry her ashes as he let them fall from their silver container.

           He watched her go, and he continued to stand there with his arm outstretched long after the last trace of light left the sky. Alone under the moonlight, he finally brought his arm back to his side. He left the roof of the old barn and started to wander, looking for something and nothing all at once.

           Before he knew it his wandering had brought him to the woods. As he moved on, lost in his hurt, he came to a small clearing that hosted a single wooden structure. He didn’t think much on it as his feet carried him to the door of the unassuming little shack in the woods.

[lostinprocrastination]

So I like docs about cults and true crime, right, so this weekend I came across Leah Remini's Scientology show on Netflix and decided to get to it. I'd seen a lot of stuff about it over the years and I've always known it to be a cult, but the whole thing with scamming every single member out of money they do and don't have in order to take these brainwashing courses to get up the ladder of the organization, separating kids from their parents even when they're all on the inside, making basically a crime to leave (and if they do, they're condemned to be shunned by their friends and family who stay, and also are kept strictly under surveillance for basically the rest of their lives)...this is *exactly* like NXIVM. They reel members in with a self-help, positive narrative and then make you a prisoner, whether they're aware of it or not. I don't think Scientology has a secret sex cult that was unknown even to most people inside NXIVM - at least nothing's come up yet - but all the other stuff? Exactly the same.

And then, there was this episode with someone explaining how the organization considers everyone who doesn't say exactly what they think should be said or treat them like they think they should be treated - be it ex-members, the press, the government - as "enemies", that's the actual word they use, and describing exactly the viciousness with which they deal with those enemies, more often than not going after the individual reporter or IRS agent or whoever to tarnish their reputation with falsehoods intended to get them fired (and, most importantly, unemployable) and completely ruin their lives in every other way, once again making me go "hey, that sounds familiar!"

And THEN, Leah was talking about how scientologists don't have access to books not about Scientology or newspapers or the goddamn internet, so they're programmed to experience and see life according to the writings and propaganda material produced by the organization and they do it willingly because that's all they know. Someone literally, in the strict sense of the word, said that when Miscavage and his team demonize the "enemies", even when it's public, they're not defending the "church" to the world. They're talking to their followers, to the people that are inside their bubble, and will fully accept everything leadership says and discard anything else because, again, they're in a bubble and it's all they know.

Sure, as far as we know they aren't a violent mob trying to overthrow governments, but other than that, they're a far-right movement. It's like Drumpf is a stupid Miscavage and Stephen Miller is L. Ron Hubbard (because if you don't realize all of what's been happening, all those new and pre-existing far-right groups coming together under the tent of The Cult of Drumpf, isn't Miller's brainchild, then you haven't been paying attention to say the least). When you make that connection, everything becomes WAY freakier and appalling and terrifying. Wow.

(Also Leah's co-host and also former scientologist said that the organization views homosexuality, for example, as a deviation that needs to be "audited out" of a member. And oh, it's 99.9% Caucasian, of course. They're a white supremacist cult disguised as a church, that's it. Holy motherfucking shit.)

[cuntess-carmilla]

Anna Cook

TW: Lesbophobic violence, murder, rape, strangulation, drugs, mentions of domestic violence.

Ana María Villaroel González, better known by her artistic name, Anna Cook, was a 26 years old Chilean DJ and a lesbian, found dead at the house in which she rented a room in August 2nd of 2017.

The official cause of her death on paper is a drug overdose, despite how all medical evidence points to this not being the case, simply because of her vast history of drug use and how the people involved set the scene to make it look like that was the case.

It’s her mother, Kattia González, the one who’s taken to the internet to spread awareness about Anna Cook’s death, which she believes to be a murder-rape and a hate crime.

Mind you, Kattia and Anna were extremely close, so Kattia did know that Anna did many drugs and whenever Anna got herself in trouble she would call her, which means this isn’t her mother in denial of her daughter’s drug use.

The night before she died some friends went to the house Anna was living in to party. Different people were at the house owned by Raúl Azócar in the Providencia district, with Anna and another friend spinning and playing some music, as she had a gig the next day in Angol.

The next morning, Kattia woke up at 9 pm to very bizarre text messages from her daughter, such as “it’s either them or me” and “someone has to die”. She started frantically phone calling her with no response on Anna’s behalf.

At around 2 pm, Kattia was informed that her daughter was at the ER of the Salvador Hospital and she had to go immediately because her daughter was in grave condition. However, when Kattia arrived to see her daughter, she was informed that Anna had actually arrived already dead to the hospital, brought in by Raúl Azócar.

Proper protocol of the Salvador Hospital indicates that when a person is brought dead, the one who brought them there has to be questioned and tested as they’re considered the first main suspect of murder, but Azócar did not have any procedure of the sort done to him. What’s more, he arrived there without his ID, which he claims he “couldn’t find” at home before taking Anna to the hospital.

It was once they saw Anna’s body that Patricio (a friend of Anna) told Kattia that Raúl and a friend of his (Nikolai) were going to go pick up the IDs they claimed they couldn’t find before, and that he overheard them talking about having to “clean the house”.

There were many irregularities during the investigation. The statements given by everyone who was in the house the night Anna died were inconsistent with each other, so there’s no certain time of death.

Azócar initially failed to mention to the police in his first statement that he was with a friend (Matías Troncoso) at the apartment that night, and when the prosecutor repeatedly asked him about his friend he denied it enough that she had to remind him that he himself uploaded a video that night that showed him with Troncoso. Azócar excused himself by saying he has “poor memory”.

So poor was his memory, that at first he also claimed he didn’t know Anna's name, despite having been roommates for over a year. Raúl Azócar claimed too in his first statement that Anna had a history of epilepsy, which is false, besides bringing up her having a history of depression and drug use too.

The reasons to believe that Anna was murdered and raped are that the tests ran by the Legal Medical Service prove she had NOT used any drugs the night she died, and her alcohol intake had been low.

When Kattia saw her daughter’s body with a friend of Anna (named only as Patricio in Kattia’s Facebook post), they saw that Anna’s body had a large bruise that went all around her neck (5x5 cm), clearly a sign of strangling. Not only that, but she was beaten hard enough for her body to have 5 broken ribs. She was found naked at the scene as well.

Anna had been openly a lesbian for years, everyone who knew her knew this about her. Of all the people involved in this case, Andrea was the only woman present that night, and she is cisgender. Five months after her death, the prosecutor informed Kattia that there were traces of sperm found in Anna’s mouth, which, once Kattia informed the prosecutor about Anna’s lesbianism, made the prosecutor consider this a murder case AND a rape case.

Six months after this finding, the prosecution issued a warrant to compare the DNA of the sperm found in Anna’s body with those of the men present during the night she died. They sampled Raúl Azócar, a guy named Simón, and Magno, even though Magno was NOT present at the house that night. Matías Troncoso, who was present that night, was not tested.

The three tests came out without a match, even saying there was no “male” DNA in Anna’s body despite the sperm, and they ran out of samples of the sperm found in her body after those tests, which Kattia claims to be nothing but negligence.

(The next part is taken and translated from http://esmifiestamag.com/2020/07/27/caso-anna-cook-detalles/)

Once it was revealed that Matías Troncoso might be involved in the murder-rape of Anna Cook, an ex of Matías published that he was psychologically, physically and sexually violent, and that she had reported him in the past for domestic violence.

Months after the comparative DNA tests, Jaime Brieba, a forensic expert who contacted Kattia to help solve the case, checked the records. The expert wrote a report highlighting the inconsistencies of Raúl’s statements, besides a variety of acts of negligence on the behalf of the public health system, such as Anna’s autopsy ignoring the bruise on her neck and how they only analyzed the left side of Anna’s body.

Among the information in the Instagram publications from Kattia, it’s evident that during the investigation, the prosecutor of the case, Mitzy Henríquez, gave a copy of the file of the case to Raúl, despite him only being considered a witness, not a suspect.

In February 2020, the same prosecutor cited Kattia for a meeting, in which she now argued that there wasn’t any proof of anyone other than Anna herself having taken a role in her death, completely discarding the doctor’s statements, and the report that proves there was sperm in her mouth in consideration of Anna being a lesbian.

By the end of 2019, Kattia decided to make the case of her daughter public and her lawyer, Lily Candia, sued with the purpose of keeping the investigation open and going until they find the person or people responsible for Anna’s death. Almost a year from this, there’s still no progress in the investigation.

[trombonesinspace]

Typhoid Mary: feminist femme fatale?

“Season 4 was going to be Typhoid Mary, Alice Eve [who played the role in Iron Fist], we were doing a kind of...I had a much different version of her than what Raven [Metzner] had done in Iron Fist. I was kind of rebooting what she was going to be like, and we were going to do a, you know, kind of a warped love story/murder mystery kind of femme fatale, but kind of a modern-day, feminist version of it, as opposed to kind of the older, sexist kind of femme fatale archetype.”

-Erik Oleson, in conversation with Steven DeKnight, SaveDaredevilCon 

As I said yesterday, I have some thoughts about this! If you want some opinions nobody asked for, about a storyline that may never come to pass, you’ve come to the right place! Let’s dive in.

A femme fatale is a character type with quite a history, that can take various forms. She is always an attractive woman who brings ruin to the man who gets involved with her. But sometimes she is deliberately manipulative, while sometimes she is more a victim of circumstances. She may be evil, or she may be sympathetic/tragic. But whatever her moral alignment, she has two defining traits: sexual allure, and some form of negative consequences for the hero as a result of his involvement with her.

A woman who schemes against the hero, and succeeds in harming him, but without using feminine wiles? Not a femme fatale. The Marvel TV universe has featured several examples on different shows: Madame Gao, Mariah Dillard, Alexandra. And, ironically, the version of Typhoid Mary who appeared in Iron Fist. (We’ll get there.)

A sexy woman who tries to manipulate/damage the hero, but fails? Also not a femme fatale. I wish I could give some examples, but sadly I can’t think of any, in dramas at least. Our current media culture loves a sexy manipulator, no writer ever seems to introduce one into a dramatic story without making her succeed in her schemes, to some extent at least.

Which is unfortunate, from my perspective, because I loathe sexy manipulators. It’s a character type I really dislike, whenever I encounter her. As soon as she shows up, I know the hero is going to fall for her bullshit like a chump, and I’m going to end up respecting him less as a result. I could try to unpack my feelings about this a bit more, but that would probably make a post all on its own, so for now I’ll leave it at that.

This doesn’t mean I hate all femmes fatales—it really depends on her motivation and her behavior. If she isn’t trying to harm the hero, and it happens due to circumstances, then I might like the character, but the story becomes a tragedy. Which is not necessarily bad. Just, you know. Tragic.

Anyway! Let’s talk about Typhoid Mary.

Mary Walker is a woman with Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personalities), and high-level combat skills. In the comics, she is also a mutant with mental powers. She appeared in the Daredevil comics starting in 1988.

In this original version, her personality fragmented due to childhood abuse, leading her to vow as an adult that no man would ever hurt her again. Her personalities are: Mary, who is timid and gentle; Typhoid, who is adventurous, lusty, and violent; and Bloody Mary, who is even more violent, sadistic, and hates all men.

Mary becomes romantically involved with Matt Murdock, who is cheating on his girlfriend, Karen Page, to be with her. At the same time, Typhoid is trying to ruin him, having been hired to do so by the Kingpin. Matt can’t tell they’re the same woman, because when she switches personalities all her bio signs change (voice, scent, heartbeat, etc) so much that he can’t recognize her. (Uh, sure.) She may also be using some of her mutant powers to confuse his senses. I haven’t read the comics, I’m relying here on what I could learn from the internet.

Eventually Typhoid drops him off a bridge, but then Mary finds him and gets him to a hospital, saving him. Karen is with him when he wakes up, but he breaks her heart by calling out for Mary.

This storyline...does not thrill me. As I said, I haven’t read it, but comics writing about mental illness is generally neither nuanced nor accurate, and comics writing about women circa 1988 is also not great, by today’s standards. And comics Matt’s disastrous love life is legendary—cheating on your girlfriend is bad, Matt! Don’t do it! 

I have, however, watched season 2 of Iron Fist, where we get a different version. This Mary Walker is a US army veteran, special ops, who was captured by the Sokovian military. Her personality fragmented due to the brutal abuse she received from her captors for nearly two years, until she finally escaped. She got a medical discharge from the army after being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Her personalities are: Mary, who is innocent and naive; and Walker, who is a ruthless, coolly efficient mercenary-for-hire. The existence of a third, ultraviolent personality, previously unknown to either Mary or Walker, is revealed near the end of the season. 

Mary meets and befriends Danny Rand, while Walker is hired by his enemies to stalk him, and eventually capture him so they can steal his Iron Fist powers from him. She later changes sides, getting hired to bring down Davos, the season’s main villain, by Joy Meachum, his former ally.

There are clear parallels to the Daredevil comics storyline, albeit in less extreme form—Mary befriends the hero, but isn’t romantically involved with him; her more violent personality works against him and fights him, but doesn’t try to destroy him. 

I enjoyed this version of the character more than I expected to, for a couple of reasons. For one, she is never the out of control, “crazy” stereotype of a person with mental illness. Both Mary and Walker are more-or-less functional adults, managing to live a strange hybrid life, aware of each other’s existence even though they don’t share memories.

But what I especially like is that she isn’t sexualized, at all. It’s incredibly rare, in my experience, to see a young, female antagonist opposing a male hero, and not have her be sexy. Older women are exempt from this obligation (see my list of examples above), but the young ones always vamp it up, and I am so tired of it. I am not opposed to sexy women, but I am very opposed to the requirement that all women must be sexy. (Unless they’re old.) Male antagonists aren’t required to be alluring, so why should women be? (Yes, I know why. I just don’t like it.)

There’s also a lot of potential YIKES in sexualizing a woman with a severe mental illness, which was caused by (among other things) repeated sexual violence. Could it be done in a way that isn’t super problematic? It’s possible, sure. Am I assuming that most television writers would give the subject the respect it deserves? NOPE! 

I’m really glad they chose to just not go there. Walker is extremely good at what she does, takes no shit from anyone, and (almost) never gets riled up. After everything she’s been through, nothing in her present life has the power to faze her, and none of the men around her have the power to intimidate her. It’s pretty great!

She isn’t the least bit coy or seductive, and, equally refreshing, none of the men try to sexualize her or hit on her. Everyone Walker talks to knows she is a highly skilled professional, and they treat her accordingly. Or, when someone does disrespect her, it’s never gendered as far as I can remember, and it stops as soon as she calmly states what she’s going to do to him if it doesn’t.

As for Mary, although she has a more feminine appearance than Walker (hair down and loose, makeup), she is also not sexualized. Her friendship with Danny, who is in an established relationship with Colleen Wing, is platonic, and no one else tries to hit on her that I remember.

So this is the version of Typhoid Mary that Erik Oleson was going to reboot, into a femme fatale. Only, you know. A feminist one. 

I...have some questions. What does that even mean? What does feminism mean to Erik Oleson? Let’s be real, the idea of a woman becoming an ultraviolent, sadistic man-hater as a result of sexual trauma would have been seen as feminist in some circles, back in 1988 when that version was written. So what, exactly, did he have in mind?

As I said before, sexual allure is a necessary component of a femme fatale. So she was definitely gonna be sexy. And you know now how I feel about sexy female antagonists. As for the “warped love story” part...Matt wouldn’t be cheating on Karen, since they aren’t together (please, for the love of mercy, don’t have them get together right before he meets Mary, we did that once and I do NOT want to see it again), but I am still not a fan of Matt/Mary as a couple.

Her Dissociative Identity Disorder raises some serious issues around consent, and even if the show chose to ignore that, there’s still the issue of past sexual trauma. Unless Oleson’s reworking of the character was going to include a completely different back story, a Matt/Mary relationship would mean Matt unknowingly having sex with a woman who has suffered brutal sexual abuse in her past. Not to mention, having sex with her that only one part of her personality actually wants.

Is it possible for someone with Mary’s past trauma and present mental illness to have a positive sexual relationship? In reality, of course! In the hands of writers with only a layman’s knowledge of psychology, on a show that loves to torment its hero, I wouldn’t bet on it. How do you suppose our poster boy for Catholic guilt would react when he inevitably finds out the truth?

Plus, aside from any issues around Mary herself, Matt starting a relationship with anyone other than the handful of people who already know his secret identity, means a whole new round of Matt lying to someone he cares about. Does anyone really want to see that? I know I don’t. Sure, maybe he’d tell her eventually, but how long would they have to date before he decided to trust her with the truth?

I’m not opposed to the Mary Walker from Iron Fist appearing in Daredevil, if the writers could come up with a new story for her (i.e, don’t just have her repeat all the same plot beats with Matt that she already did with Danny). But bringing her in as a femme fatale really doesn’t sit well with me. We’ve already seen Matt in an ultimately destructive relationship with a sexy, violent, morally grey woman. I really don’t want to watch Round 2: now with multiple personalities!

Of course, maybe we never will. The quote at the beginning of this post is from just a couple of weeks ago (July 25 2020), so Erik Oleson still seems to think it’s a fine idea. But obviously we don’t know yet if there will ever be a season 4, or who the show runner will be if there is. He may never get to make the story he was planning.

So yes, I realize I’m merely speculating about a completely theoretical story that may never happen. But I wanted to write this anyway. I had a strong “ugh, no” reaction to the idea of a feminist femme fatale Typhoid Mary, and I wanted to go deeper and pick apart my reasons for not liking the idea.

To the three of you who have read this all the way through to the end (this post is nearly 2000 words, yikes), thank you for indulging me! These are, as always, my own opinions, and YMMV.