#sorry for the essay i just am like i think sour that he gets boiled down to dumb and weird….you guyssssssss

[metallteeff]

like actually

[kopawz]

📂📂!!

OH BOY! TWO OF THEM! :D 📂📂 i ate 2 bowls of macaroni and cheese so if i sound delirious from being lost in the sauce, i am.

📂 ok so for my first useless headcannon, i think that everybody who says Phoenix Wright's element as a representation of fire like the stereotypical phoenix is wrong and silly, rise from the ashes my ass (no offense if you think this but i have cool reasons why you are wrong but i am open to be argued with)

i think he's more like water instead, because he's always adapting to whatever situation he's in like water does. he can be boiling to the point of being more scalding than the hottest flame when he's mad- cold shoulder that feels more subarctic than the atlantic ocean in january when you're on the receiving end of it. water being easily corrupted by pollution, which takes painstaking amounts of time to restore back to it's previous state. (phoenix i'm so sorry they rushed your recovery arc from aa4 to aa5 you deserved a game in between the two to space that shit out oh my god.) also blue. how did we miss blue- fire is RED you guys you missed the whole fucking color theory GOD-

sorry i just think it's more fun to think about the ocean in regards to phoenix rather than fire, like we get it- he keeps dying and coming back, so what! so do the 1000 year old sharks in the ocean how is that any different this is silly whatever. WHATEVER!

ok after this is the second useless head cannon which is much longer and more delirious. it's in the keep reading below if you want to see me go batshit about kid icarus, go home if you don't like reading anymore

📂 ok so secondly i have a theory on how the Mirror of Truth in kid icarus works, I have a whole fucking essay for you for just the first useless headcannon: [no i am not just typing this because we didn't get any kid icarus news in the direct]

Alirght- first, we must see how the Mirror of Truth works. It literally just duplicates whatever is in front of it- with the added bonus of the copy AUTOMATICALLY serving the Underworld's army.

Pandora uses this mirror in her lair to create hordes upon hordes of monsters to serve her purposes. She decides to try and copy Pit, hoping to use his duplicated power to wreak havoc with the force of an angel on the Underworld's side.

But- um! Oopsie! Pit breaks it before it can "successfully" copy. Or at least that's a lot of people think, not me though!

The mirror copied him perfectly, except for the one side-effect of not serving Pandora.

But before I explain... what does it mean for the Mirror of Truth to successfully copy according to Pandora's definition?

Well, Dark Pit doesn't meet the success criteria, because of two things- and we're not including his more Hot Topic-esque appearance because that's just likely to make him easier to distinguish from Pit in-game.

1. First of all, he isn't loyal to Pandora or the Underworld like the mirror's supposed to be making him act. In fact, he doesn't want to be loyal to anybody, kicks Pandora's ass, and steals her powers for his own personal use (for a little bit).

2. He isn't just un-loyal, he's also aggressive, irritable, self-centered, arrogant enough to claim that he's the original Pit, and has a notable dislike for most, if not all of the gods. Doesn't sound like our boy, right? Hahaha! No!! well yeah. no? yeah! yes. maybe. ok hangon let me explain-

Dark Pit definitely gets a lot of his sour opinions and habits from Pit, I promise- He's not just an edgy clone like smash brothers made everybody think. Everything that Dark Pit does is something that Pit would do if pushed hard enough.

He literally says that he embodies what true feelings Pit is too scared to display, anyway-

which makes Pit respond VERY defensively and angrily in response-

But I'm gonna give you more examples anyway, because I'm already on this train-ride of a tangent.

At the end of the game after the final boss, Palutena mentions in the ending scene that humans and gods are similar creatures, because they're both greedy and selfish:

And Pit basically responds by saying "Nope! You guys are worse!" before flying off into the sunset without elaborating.

Probably passing it off as a joke, though- Pit and Dark Pit definitely care about Palutena at least, as tricky as she is. The other gods, though? Fuck em', that's why!

They're both incredibly reckless about their own safety, as long as whatever dogshit plan they came up with takes down the enemy or accomplishes their goal.

GOD.

DAMMIT.

I REACHED MY IMAGE LIMIT OF 10 PER POST.

Ok whatever- I'm gonna give you a list of stupid ideas they both had that worked, but I can't show any images because... 10 image limit

-DP kicks an Underworld Gatekeeper in the face to look cool, and decides leave for the rest of that chapter.

-DP launches the Lightning Chariot into a portal to keep it open longer so Palutena can be saved from Chaos Kin. The

-Pit and DP make up a shitty battle song on the spot, implying that they both have terrible song ideas in their head, Pit is the only one who chooses to do this constantly without shame.

-Pit launches himself off a cliff after DP is attacked by the Chaos Kin, setting his wings on fire and almost dying in the process trying to save him.

-After Pit's wings are restored in the Rewind Spring, DP goes "my work here is done", and jumps off a cliff to leave- immediately forgetting that he still cannot fly due to the Chaos Kin's attack, so Viridi scoops him up like a kitten.

-When confronting Hades, DP once again launches the Lightning Chariot, directly into Hades' chest because he isn't sure how else to use it.

-Pit crashes a mech 10 seconds after operating it, after completing several trials to prove that he is even worthy of piloting it.

that was some really good mac n cheese

[comfortsickboys]

Learning the Hard Way (Arlo)

warning: emeto mentions, alcohol consumption, and graphic descriptions of vomit

(Another long one, oops!)

Arlo had just finished writing the longest essay of his life. His eyes felt like they were bleeding, and his brain was officially out of commission for the rest of the year. He closed his laptop and fell back onto his bed, planning to stay right there for the remainder of the night.

However, those plans quickly changed when his door flung open, revealing Judah. He looked pissed enough that Arlo remained still, waiting for the snap. He watched as he went right for the chair in the corner, slinging his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping it. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath, and then finally looked over at Arlo. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Judah broke the gaze and focused back on his backpack.

“Bad day?” Arlo ventured to ask when it seemed like Judah wasn’t going to say anything.

“Bad life.”

“Hey, careful. We’ve talked about this, Jude. What is it?” Arlo asked, a frown settling on his features as he pushed himself up to sit back against the wall.

“I know, sorry. Just a lot of shitty stuff with dad this morning. Shitty day at school,” he mumbled. “It...it would’ve been their anniversary.” The air hung thickly for a moment.

“Oh, Judah. I’m sorry.” He felt like there was nothing he could do or say that would help, because he just didn’t understand what that kind of stuff was like; he knew his own life had been too easy.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It is what it is, right?” He gave a crooked smile. “Besides,” he said then, lightening a bit. “I brought a present for us.”

“Hmm?” Arlo scooted to the edge of the bed, forcing his eyes to stay open. Judah needed him to be awake tonight.

Instead of answering, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a full bottle of vodka. A shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he looked at Arlo and held it like a trophy. Any trace of the broken boy he’d seen seconds before was gone, replaced with what Arlo had come to know as Judah’s shield from the world. Arlo’s eyebrows raised, and he said nothing, because words just wouldn’t form. He felt a little nervous if he was being honest.

“What’s that face for? This is life’s best medicine,” Judah laughed, standing up from the chair and coming to join him on the bed.

“Um,” Arlo breathes out, trying to find the right words. “I’ve just...I haven’t.” A blush crept up his neck at that, and he suddenly felt like maybe he should have just acted normal. Judah’s smile faded, and he never wanted to be the reason for that.

“Oh. I mean, you don’t have to drink any. We can just—“

“No, no it’s not like that...I think I want to. But that’s why I was, um, making that face,” he explained awkwardly, trying desperately to dissolve the tension he’d created.

“Alright, cool. But you really don’t have to, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, feeling his nervous energy slowly morph into something more electric. “I’m gonna go get some cups, okay? And um, should I find like something to mix with it or...?”

“If you want to. I use soda usually.”

Arlo nodded, getting up from the bed feeling like he’d been set on some sort of secret mission. As he quietly went down the hall, his heart pounded, and a sneaking, private smile painted itself on his face.

Having mostly been a “good kid” and never stepping much out of line, this felt like something big. He knew his parents were upstairs somewhere, and here he was about to get drunk. It felt weird in the best sort of way. He deserved to feel like a normal teenager for one night.

He retrieved everything he needed from the kitchen, carefully balancing it all as he returned to his room. He found Judah already on the floor with an Xbox controller in his hand. He looked up and grinned, following Arlo with his eyes as he came to sit down on the patch of carpet next to him.

The nerves curled and sparked over his skin, fizzling out into a mixture of anticipation and fear of the unknown. He surely didn’t want his parents walking in on them, so he excused himself briefly to go lock the door.

When he returned to his spot, Judah had begun to pour himself a drink, and Arlo watched on. It seemed like a lot, but he figured he didn’t know enough about alcohol to make an argument. He picked up his own cup and the bottle from Judah’s hands, hesitantly pouring in about the same amount.

He topped it off with the Sprite and stared at it for a moment, unsure of how fast he should go. He spared a look over at Judah, who was drinking it like a glass of orange juice at breakfast.

Alright, yeah, I can do this, Arlo thought brightly, finally looking away and bringing the cup to his lips.

It was sour and burned in a choking sort of way. He winced but held back the cough that twitched in his throat, not wanting to seem too fazed. He caught a glimpse from the corner of his eye and saw that Judah was watching him.

When he turned, though, Judah’s gaze quickly steeled, and he looked back at the TV. Arlo felt a creeping warmth seep into his cheeks at that, and it prompted him to take a bigger sip.

It hurt just as much, making his nose sting and prickling down his esophagus. He couldn’t tell if it was the carbonation, alcohol, or both, but he couldn’t say he was enjoying it. Still, he figured there had to be a reason why so many people liked this shit.

Three more cups and a few games of Mortal Kombat later, he discovered that reason.

He felt great, like—insanely free. Warmth blossomed from his chest and radiated throughout his whole body, making his eyelids heavy and limbs loose. It sloshed in his empty belly when he moved, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It made him laugh until he couldn’t breathe, and he felt like he could say anything in the world and there would be absolutely no consequences.

That was very dangerous when he was sitting so close to Judah, and he knew it.

He tried to push those thoughts as far back as he could, because he was determined to have a good night. It was going pretty well so far, and he wasn’t planning for that to change any time soon.

The only drawback he found was that he had to pee—a lot. Probably every ten minutes, they had to pause the game so one of them could venture down the hallway to the bathroom. It all seemed inexplicably fun, though, and Arlo often found himself stuck staring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

His cheeks looked flushed, and he smiled at himself lazily, bracing his weight against the counter top. Everything was just the right amount of fuzzy, and above all, he felt safe.

He flickered his eyes between his own gaze one last time and turned off the light, leaving to stumble his way back to the room. The hallway was a bit of a difficult stretch by that point, but he didn’t mind.

One of the biggest perks, he found, was that the more he drank, the less it burned. So, when he got back to his spot, he poured himself another drink. It might have been a little stronger, but he couldn’t really tell anymore. He frankly couldn’t have given less of a damn, either.

After a few sips, Judah’s hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m hungry, Lo. Please say you know something we can eat,” he breathed out, words colliding a little messily. His hand felt so warm and real in that moment that it took Arlo an extra second to think.

“Frozen pizza,” he finally responded, eyes going wide. Judah’s eyes grew too, and before they knew it, they were sneaking their way to the kitchen. Not falling down the stairs was quite a task, but they both managed to make it to the refrigerator alive.

“Preheat to 400° please,” Arlo whispered, trying his best to laugh softly. He didn’t even know what he was laughing about, but it didn’t seem to matter, because Judah was laughing too.

They did everything in their power not to stir up too much noise, so they ended up just sitting on the counter top, snacking on chips in relative silence. There was another burst of random laughter, but that time, it tapered off slowly, and they found themselves a lot closer than usual.

The laughter faded to smiles, and eventually those faded too, leaving both boys staring at each other, ears ringing. Arlo’s fingertips buzzed and his heart very nearly seized to function, but it felt too dangerously good. Judah’s eyes looked like pools of molten gold, swirling and glowing in the warm light of the kitchen. A curl hung loosely on against his forehead, and Arlo fought with everything not to brush it back or give it a soft tug.

The oven timer made them both jump.

Arlo blinked a good few times before embarrassment flooded through his veins like boiling water, and he hopped off the counter top unsteadily. His stomach sloshed again with the movement, but that time, it made him feel a little seasick. He caught himself on the island counter, but just barely. His own breathing sounded too loud in his head, and it was making him want to panic, so he focused on his task.

He put the pizza on the pan and opened the oven, surprised at how the heat there mirrored the warmth already brushing his cheeks. It took extra effort not to fall forwards as he pushed the pan in, closing the door behind it.

It was silent, then, and he couldn’t bear another close call like the one they’d just had. He needed a drink.

“I’ll um, I’ll be back,” he started, his own voice sounding a bit foreign. Judah looked at him from his spot on the counter, face terrifyingly unreadable.

Did I make it too obvious? I did, didn’t I? Fuck, I am so fucked. Arlo’s brain was no friend to him as he stumbled back up the stairs, gripping the wall so he wouldn’t come tumbling back down. Everything was swimming in front of him, and he no longer felt loose and happy. He felt ill, but he blamed that on not having any food to stop the swirling feeling in his tummy. He also somehow felt like Judah read his mind back there, and even though that’s impossible, he couldn’t help but get the feeling that he’d ruined something.

When he finally reached the room, he was desperate to go back to being carefree. He grabbed his fresh drink from where they’d hidden them and took a breath. He hesitated for only a second before bringing the cup to his lips and finishing the entire thing in one go.

Panting, he shoved the cup back into where it was. His stomach whirled audibly, but the warmth reignited, melting away most of the worry from his chest. At that, he considered his mission a success, so he turned around to leave.

When he did, the world became his enemy. It dipped and tilted under his feet, but he found himself laughing about it again. It felt like some sort of video game. He hiccuped and burped into his fist, feeling some of the pressure inside him give way. It felt nice, but everything did at that point. 

As he stumbled his way down the hallway, he felt more carefree than he’d ever been since he was a kid. He even scooted down the stairs in a sitting position like he was three, but it was all part of the game in his mind. He giggled all the way down, peeling himself from the floor with some difficulty when he finally made it to the bottom. He just couldn’t wait to see Judah again.

When he turned the corner into the kitchen, he tried to regain a little composure, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Everything was dizzy and made him happy in a childhood sort of way. He wanted a hug.

He suddenly realized that whole monologue had happened while he stood slumped against the kitchen island, staring unashamedly at Judah. He was staring back with his mouth pulled into knowing smirk.

“You drank more, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, and all it did was set off another fit of laughter from Arlo. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled, burying his face into his hands. “I’ve created a monster, God help me.”

“Heeey,” Arlo drew out in false offense, coming closer to give Judah a weak punch in the arm.

“Don’t make me file for divorce,” he murmured back, smile evident in his muffled words.

“I take back th’punch. M’sorry. Forgive me,” he begged, taking Judah’s hand in his.

The universe must have been looking out for him, because the timer beeped once again, and Judah jumped from the counter with renewed enthusiasm. He didn’t even wait for Arlo, he just took the pizza out himself, going straight to the drawer he knew held the pizza cutter. That house was more his home than where he actually slept at night, and they both knew that.

Arlo figured that Judah taking the lead was probably a good idea, because things were getting a little too spinny. All he could seem to manage at that moment was bracing himself against the cabinets and breathing. He watched on as Judah started to slice the food, but his eyes traveled possibly too much.

The fabric of Judah’s t-shirt looked extra soft where it was stretched over his back, and Arlo wished he could brush his hands there. His eyes flitted up to his hair then, and fuck, did he want to touch it. He wanted to run his fingers through the curls over and over and forget about everything else.

These thoughts that he usually didn’t let roam were now stuck on repeat, twisting and weaving like his vision. He blinked hard and tried to come back to his body, but it wasn’t listening. He told himself that he just needed some food, and that maybe it would would give him his land legs and his sense back.

Stepping forward just as Judah finished cutting, he grabbed a slice and took a big bite. It tasted like nothing he’d ever tasted before—it was exactly what he needed. They dug in, hardly acknowledging each other as they finished the entire pizza in record time. Arlo could feel the food lining every inch of his stomach  once he’d finished, pushing possibly a little too tight for comfort. He burped unexpectedly, covering his mouth as the tail of it rumbled out. It was a lot and definitely made him feel better, but color burned up his neck when he remembered who he was with.

“Sorry,” he breathed out, “ate way too fast.”

“Don’t be, that was pretty impressive,” Judah laughed, even reaching to grab the bowl of chips and continuing to eat. Arlo, whose stomach was definitely not in a state to handle any more food, had a different plan.

“Wanna take these upstairs so I c’n whoop your ass in Mortal Kombat?” he managed to say, beginnings and ends of his words running together. Judah’s eyes lit back up with the challenge.

“I think you’ve got that backwards, Arrie.” With that, he started towards the stairs, entirely too fast for Arlo’s body.

He laughed as he bumped along the walls, following as closely behind as he could. Somewhere along the line, he realized he couldn’t feel his legs, but it was kind of nice. Crawling up the stairs, he thanked the powers that be that his parents didn’t emerge; he wouldn’t have had any explanation.

He somehow made it to his room without breaking any bones, but as soon as he sat down, he realized there was another problem. Judah was already pouring him another drink. His full stomach suddenly rolled in protest, and he knew immediately that he shouldn’t have moved so fast after eating so much. His belly ached a little, straining against the amount of food and booze he’d just stuffed it with.

Still, he didn’t want to seem like he couldn’t handle himself, so he forced himself to take a couple of sips just as the first match started. He set the cup down and started to fight, his fingers fumbling to remember the attack combos. Failing miserably, he quickly got trapped in the corner, taking hit after hit.

He somehow remembered how to teleport to the other side, but when the screen shifted, something uneasy settled over him. Suddenly, the movement of the screen was making his vision swim even more, and the heavy mass of food in his stomach felt like it had instantly curdled. He resisted the urge to rub it in favor of staying in the game.

His efforts were useless, though, because he’d already lost the first round anyway. His character’s death was graphic and gory, abruptly bringing on an unexpected wave of nausea. Usually that kind of stuff didn’t bother him too much, but when his stomach was already so upset, he couldn’t help it.

He hiccuped just as round two began, and it started a chain reaction of movement inside of him. It was a churning, muggy sort of feeling, making his palms sweat against the controller. He started to surprisingly get the upper hand, but only because he was desperate to focus on anything apart from the turmoil in his stomach.

A burp traveled up his chest and he let it out, wincing at how strongly it burned with alcohol and carbonation. It brought no relief, and a general feeling of unease washed over him again. It felt like another burp was going to come up, but he quickly realized that it was going to be much more than air. He panicked just as he won the second round, which triggered another gory scene of someone’s head being split open across the screen.  

Arlo’s stomach turned violently, and he brought a trembling hand to his mouth. The only solution that his brain provided was that needed to get out, and fast. The last round started just as he began to flee, trying to push himself from the ground with unsteady arms. The small movement made his stomach rise, muscles rippling as they prepared to heave. He realized that he couldn’t get up; he was past the point of no return.

A wet burst of air came up, and he couldn’t stop it before it brought up a bit of frothy vomit. He choked it back down, but the urge to heave ticked at the back of his throat. The world tilted around him queasily, dramatically increasing the bubbling in his insides. He abandoned his controller in favor of protectively holding the overfilled stomach. Closing his eyes, he begged for some control over his own body.

“What are you doing? This is the last round!” Judah protested, quickly pausing the game. Arlo stayed quiet, putting all his efforts into holding off the inevitable. “Are you okay?”

Arlo eventually felt the warmth settle back into his stomach, giving him a moment to decide if it was actually a false alarm. The nausea still weighed on him, but less, so he figured he might be okay. Maybe Judah knew of a way to help.

“I don’ like the way this feels anymore, Jude. How d’you make everything stop spinning?” He asked, voice unnaturally tight.

“Oh, no,” Judah drew out immediately, looking a lot more sober all of a sudden. It made Arlo nervous—it was hardly the reassurance he was looking for. He felt himself pale.

A fresh wave of crippling nausea stirred his stomach, and he brought his hand back over his mouth. In an instant, the dam broke, and a rush of thick warmth burst from between his fingers, coating his legs in secondhand pizza. He pitched forward with the next heave, and a larger wave splattered onto the carpet.

“Fuck,” Judah cursed, taking his nearly empty chip bowl and shoving it under Arlo’s dripping chin.

His stomach writhed again, sending a torrent of orange, burning vomit splashing against the plastic. He squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look at it, but that only made him dizzier, and he had to throw up again. The only thing grounding him to reality was Judah’s steady, warm hand on his back.

He burped, choking up another wave of his disturbingly undigested dinner. It was revolting, but it made him feel so much better to get it out of his stomach. He retched again.

It went on like that for another minute or so before the realization of what just happened hit him abruptly. He finally peeled his eyes open to see the absolute mess he’d made, and no words could begin to describe how mortified he felt. Tears pinched at the back of his eyes, but crying would just be the cherry on top of the humiliation sundae he’s just made himself.

He cried anyway.

As the first few tears finally spilled over, Judah scooted closer. “Please don’t cry, Lo, I’m so sorry. I really shouldn’t have let you drink that much.” Just the mention of drinking made Arlo’s stomach clench, and something like the mixture of a hiccup and a gag hitched in his throat. He audibly swallowed back the impending rush of round two. “Oh—okay, Arlo...I think we might need to go camp out in the bathroom for a little while. Um, can you stand?”

Arlo truly didn’t know, but anything would beat crying in a puddle of his own sick, so he figured trying couldn’t hurt. Judah hooked an arm around his waist and helped lift, and although they definitely swayed at first, they didn’t topple over. It was a miracle.

Another miracle was that they made it to the bathroom in one piece, just in time for Arlo’s stomach to start really gearing up for an encore. It felt like whatever was left inside of him was sticking to his throat, and it took a good few heaves to finally get the next load up.

It landed unceremoniously into the toilet, splashing a bit of water back into his face. That made him retch again, and the cycle continued. The streams gradually became more bile and less burning alcohol, but he didn’t know which one was less torturous.

The crying definitely didn’t help either, especially when he inhaled sharply with a sob and was left choking on aspirated vomit. The coughing brought up several more watery streams until he was squeezed dry, hanging lifelessly over the swirling, sour water.

It was then that the fuzz in his ears cleared and the spots in his vision began to fade, and the first thing he noticed was Judah’s proximity. He was curled at Arlo’s side, and Arlo hadn’t even noticed that he’d been rubbing his back the whole time.

Still dizzy and fairly impaired, he found himself overwhelmed with feeling. The fact that he somehow hadn’t run Judah off already felt too big, and he didn’t know where to place that amount of sheer feeling. He just ended up shuddering out another sob and releasing a string of curses that echoed back to him from the porcelain.

Judah flushed the toilet for him and his hand stilled on his back, still radiating the warmth that he so desperately needed. “You didn’t deserve all that, A. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that...I’m the one who...fuck,” he panted, words becoming impossible as another wave of nausea wracked his body. A relatively small wash of acid came up with an involuntary burp, but it somehow finally made him feel much better. “I’m th’one who overdid it. Made a fool of myself, look at me,” he finally managed, heart swooping low at the thought of how widely he’d fucked up.

“And I’m the one who dragged you into my stupid tantrum tonight. You’ve never even had the chance to learn your limits, I’m sorry.”

“Learned them now. Wearing the proof.” His poor attempt at a joke fell flat, but it did effectively remind him of the layer of filth sticking his clothes to his skin. He tried hard not to throw up again.

“Right. Let me just—I should get you some clothes. Um, give me a second.”

While he was gone, Arlo put all of his effort towards not thinking about how much he already missed him. It felt pathetic. He shut his eyes and the room tilted; he was definitely still drunk. He didn’t know how all of that worked, so he just sat there and sniffled quietly, trying to ground himself.

When Judah returned with the clothes, he turned on the shower and made sure Arlo would be okay before leaving him to it. The most he could do was undress and sit on the tub floor, letting the lukewarm water fall on him. His head had begun to pound, too, and the fact that it was still spinning made him incapable of doing anything but sitting with his eyes closed.

The stayed there until the water ran cold. It started to make him feel worse, so he shut off the water, climbed out, and dressed himself like he’d just freshly come out of a coma. The bathroom still smelled like sick, and he prayed that his parents wouldn’t come in before he could burn the evidence in the morning. He wished he could burn the evidence from his mind.

Without his permission, the events started to replay, and tears rushed back to his already raw, red eyes. He was exhausted, drunk, embarrassed, and so, so fucking in love. He knew that now more than ever. He was torn between begging Judah to never leave and hiding out in the bathroom forever. As unrealistic as it seemed, he actually tried the latter.

Inevitably, though, a knock came at the door. He had finished washing his mouth out a while ago, but he’d been leaning against the counter in a state of catatonia ever since. His body throbbed.

“Arlo? You okay in there?” His words came out gentle, but Arlo still flinched. He hated himself. Instead of responding, he bit the bullet and opened the door. He hadn’t even realized that he’d been crying the whole time until he watched Judah’s face fall. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. Arlo didn’t either.

Judah led him wordlessly to his bed, and Arlo noticed that the room was nearly spotless. All that remained of his shit-show was the shadow of a stain on the carpet in front of his TV. He imagined Judah there, scrubbing and scrubbing all because Arlo couldn’t control himself. He let himself break then, coughing out a loud sob. Judah startled a bit, pausing before he brought the blankets to cover Arlo’s collapsing chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, a line forming between his brows as his frown deepened.

“No, it—it’s not alright, I’m an idiot.” Arlo’s voice broke and cracked, raw from heaving.

“You’re not an idiot, Lo, I promise.”

Arlo looked up at him, absolutely floored. “Why are you being so nice to me? You’re...”

“An asshole for not watching out for you, that’s what,” he huffs, closing his eyes and letting out a measured breath. “I’m serious...don’t settle for people who treat you like that.”

His voice was just above a whisper then, and it made something icy curl beneath Arlo’s sternum. The guilt radiated off of him almost visibly.

“Don’t let people treat me like this? People who clean my room when I drink too much and puke everywhere? Don’t let them comfort me while I get sick and then put me to bed when I’m finished?” He was on a roll, and he even managed to tone down the remorse on Judah’s face. His words were still a bit fuzzy around the edges and the room still spun, but not too much. Sleep pulled heavily at his aching eyelids, but he never wanted to stop looking at Judah. All of a sudden, everything seemed so right, and he couldn’t stop himself. “No one would ever do this for me. You’re—you’re so good to me, for what, Judah? S’making it really fucking hard not to love you.”

And as soon as it’s out, he wanted it back in. His eyes shot open, and he froze, gaze fixed on the wall behind Judah. More words came up but died in his throat before he could get them out. His whole body ached with searing regret, and time stood still. Another fragmented apology came and went, refusing to fall past his chapped lips. He swore that silence lasted so long that he figured it must be his punishment to live out the rest of his life trapped right there.

Mercifully, Judah’s voice finally broke through the torturous stillness. “I...” he swallowed. “Later, okay? Get some sleep,” he murmured, voice achingly soft. His lips pressed together in the ghost of a gentle smile, and then he was retreating to the padded corner of the floor he’d claimed years ago.

Somehow, it didn’t feel like the end of the world. It really didn’t. But still, if it wasn’t for the glorious, magnetic pull of liquor, Arlo was sure he would’ve never slept again.

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

Steve’s Ending: What the Fuck Just Happened?

                            ************WARNING*********** 

BIG-ASS ESSAY WITH SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAME AHOY

I have been largely out of the fandom sphere for a spell because of personal stuff that went down and then subsequent Endgame anxiety (I’m sorry, I really will get to some BW asks as soon as I’m done reeling from this film), but I wanted to get out some thoughts about Endgame while they are fresh in my mind. I have seen Endgame twice since its release. I saw it Friday morning, debriefed with my beta @pitchforkcentral86, and then turned around and bought tickets for an evening showing the same day. Why? Because I had to process Steve’s last scene. I had to see it twice just to comprehend what the hell happened and then try to interpret it. I went through several hypotheses and waves of accompanying emotion and then came to a tentative personal conclusion about what the hell Steve’s ending is to me.  But first I had to ask— Is this a true happy ending? Is this lazy writing? Is this a character assassination? Is this a legitimate choice Steve would make? Some combination of the above? So, here go my hypotheses—

Hypothesis 1: This is a legitimate happy ending for Steve and his timeline.

If you only look at the images shown to us and don’t devote much thought to the implications of Steve’s choice for other people in the world, it might appear to be a beautiful ending. After a decade-and-a-half of compass-gazing and pining for the good old days of segregation and boiled food, Steve gets what he wants. He gets the person who is — surprise! — “the love of his life.” This plays into the ongoing narrative that Steve has never been able to find contentment in the modern world or with modern people (some of whom he refers to as “family,” interestingly enough). This hypothesis also assumes that he can only be happy if he is with one woman, because he assumes shared life experience is a prerequisite for partnership, which means that he has essentially preemptively foreclosed on any relationship with anyone who is not Peggy.  Since Bucky’s name has barely even entered Steve’s consciousness lately, except to emotionally whump his past self into not choking him to death, even their friendship seems to be a question in the last two films in this series.

So if we take the arc of these films into consideration, including the last two films, he has apparently resigned himself to a position of “Peggy is my only viable romantic relationship, and she is dead, and I am incomplete as long as this is true.” When you write this thesis for Steve Rogers, which is a sad thesis indeed, this ending might seem like a relief for him. (It could also be argued that it is terribly lacking in resiliency and flexibility and is naive, at best, in terms of what is love versus infatuation versus idealization.) Problematic in this happy ending scenario: The writers clearly did not consider the second and third order effects of this decision. They just needed to tie up Steve’s timeline and get Chris Evans out of the franchise, and this was a way to do it that resonates at face value. Man out of time gets put back in his time. Gets love. Quote: “It was beautiful.” Ignore all of the following and more: -There will now be two Steve Rogers in this timeline. -One of them will presumably be with Peggy Carter for at least a good chunk of time, unless things went south. -Peggy Carter is the director of SHIELD. Her close associates are undoubtedly known to them as a result. -Thus, Steve Rogers probably could not just stay hidden in the pantry. SHIELD would want to debrief him. They would want to know how the hell he got there. Questions would get asked. This could not remain a secret forever. -Is Steve Rogers going to sit out history? Hang on the couch while the world burns, shield unused? -Is Steve Rogers, knowing that Bucky is alive, going to leave him to rot with Hydra? -Even if they made some sort of arrangement beforehand, like Bucky saying it’s okay, don’t come get me, would they both sit well with continuing to let him kill all of the innocents he killed? -If Steve did go get Bucky, he would likely find him some time in the span of however many years he’s in the past. The future would be completely changed. -If he intervened and found Bucky, Sam Wilson would not be Falcon because TWS would not happen. This version of Bucky would not exist. This end scene could not happen. -Thus, this does not seem to be something that Steve chose to do during his life with Peggy. (Debunked-ish, along with other “Back to the Future” science hereafter, below) Which brings me to my second hypothesis about this ending. Hypothesis 2: This was thought out, but it represents writers Markus and McFeely’s disconnect from the character they built. This is where the “there is no way in hell Steve would sit on the couch where the world burns, where Bucky suffers with Hydra etc.” argument comes in. This taints the ending in a particularly sour way, because they have labored so hard to build an image of Steve as someone who would wreck the world to save Bucky Barnes from harm and stop at nothing to prevent serious harm in the world where he could. It’s what he wanted in the first place! It’s where we all started in TFA! The Steve we know and love would want to go to Korea. To Vietnam. He would want to stop the Khmer Rouge and all the bad shit he could intervene with. Right? And his ass would try to save Bucky, especially knowing exactly where he’s kept! Right?? He would keep going and going until he was worn down into a nub of nothingness. Right??? Which meanders me to— Hypothesis 3: This was a decision that Steve Rogers made that is plausible for his character and was deliberate on the part of the writers. Second and third order effects included. This may be a stretch, but I think it could be argued on the grounds of good becomes great, bad becomes worse. Steve does nothing by half measures, an intrinsic trait that is amplified by his transformation. I have always argued that Steve has a very real selfish streak, or else he never would have tried to enlist in the Army so many times knowing he is absolutely unqualified to serve. Serving in his original condition would have put so many lives at risk, and others would have had to pick up his slack, because he would have been next to physically useless in combat as small Steve. But he would not accept reality, and he would not accept a “lesser” form of helping because it had to be the way that served his ego and his sense of rightness and justness for himself, consequences to other soldiers and the mission be damned. It was myopic and self-serving. And if good becomes great and bad becomes worse, maybe this is a form of that. Maybe he and Bucky agreed (because they were clearly in cahoots with that final scene business) that he would not intervene and rescue him, because then there would be no Falcon, or simply on the principle that the timeline must remain as undisturbed as possible. And maybe this one time, Steve didn’t say “fuck you, Bucky” and do what was right. Maybe Steve Rogers was done. Fucking done. Maybe he realized that what he first wanted at the beginning of TFA is not tenable. That he can’t fight forever. That he, like Tony, needs to rest, and that he can’t do that in the modern world. Which is interesting, because he essentially becomes Tony Stark v1.0 in the end, only caring about himself and his own. And Tony Stark becomes Steve Rogers, making the ultimate sacrifice for mankind. So Steve enjoys a life with Peggy while the world burns because he just can’t do it anymore. He’s paid his dues and he’s done being Captain America or Nomad or anyone else. (Wonder how she likes that version of Steve...?) Though how he could possibly say “It was beautiful” is utterly beyond me. I can’t fit that into this hypothesis, unless he has compartmentalized so hard and so well that he has forgotten about Bucky’s existence completely. And if he has, this is a very sad ending for his character.

There are probably many other hypotheses out there. They just didn’t percolate through my mind yet.

Which brings me to some things @pitchforkcentral86 brought up:

Why was Tony Stark’s arc so perfectly completed, so beautifully closed — truly, even I shed a tear — when we have to sit here writing stupid billion word theses on a nearly defunct blog site, grasping for straws, scratching our heads, wondering what the fuck just happened to Steve Rogers? It’s like getting to know somebody for eight years, being told the same stories about their behavior, learning their values system, their truths… and then being thrown a parting image that can only make sense if  a) the writers cannot be trusted — and maybe could not be trusted this whole time, or b) the character is actually not the person we thought he was.

Is either of these what we want to be left with as we close this phase of the MCU? Either the writers failed or Steve Rogers is not the person we love? And do we really not get to see Bucky and Steve’s friendship arc get closed in a meaningful way after building its depth for three movies? Are we really supposed to count a cheap recycling of a TFA line and some shimmery-eyed SebStan woobieface (TM) and some secret time travel hook-up conspiring off-camera (AS THEIR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP HAS BEEN SINCE CIVIL WAR, PRESUMABLY, OFF-FUCKING-CAMERA) as “closure”? So, what do I think? I think this was lazy, crap writing, and I think Markus and McFeely thought we wouldn’t consider the timey-wimey implications too much. I think they know this character, and I don’t think they figured this would assassinate his character. I think they just really, really needed to tie this story up in a superficially pretty bow, and they couldn’t kill off both Tony and Steve, so they needed to give him something that took him out of the franchise. And that scene at the end with Peggy was aesthetically BEAUTIFUL. I smiled the first time, ear to ear, until my brain kicked in two minutes later and realized what it meant. They have been building up to this forever, kindling Steggy pretty much every movie. We Stucky people are all like yeah, yeah, Peggy, so sad, but the films have been consistent all along about saying a) Steve is a man out of time, and b) he loves Peggy Carter. (However you wanted to interpret that love... until the support group, where the interpretation is made for us). Support group side note: First, I squeed that Steve was running a support group in what I’m pretty sure is a VA auditorium. And on one hand, I loved the super chill gay Russo cameo and Steve’s untroubled reaction. Three cheers for the first openly gay character in the MCU [eyeroll]. But also, it felt like a total concession, like okay all you Stucky idiots we’ve been queer baiting over the years, we are gonna drop an A-bomb your little kingdom, but look, at least Steve isn’t a homophobe! See? He’s cool with the gays and so are we. Thanks for playing. Maybe you’ll get a REAL queer character in the next phase of the MCU! (If you even stick around after the shit we’ve just pulled.) But this laziness is problematic, because it feels terrible and discrepant. Intended or not, it does have serious implications for the timeline and/or the character, and the final scene existing the way it is potentially means at least one of two things: 1. Time doesn’t work the way we think it does. (In other words, what if there is a world where time travel Steve did all these good things like free Bucky, end the Vietnam War early, etc.?) However, since he is here on this bench with Bucky and Sam, dropping off this shield, this is implausible. If he just disappeared for good and Bucky explained the situation with a tiny, knowing smile, then it would be possible that he started an alternate reality where he did all these very Steve-congruent things and freed Bucky in that timeline, which would not affect this one. Wouldn’t that be nice? I could live with that. Just disappear into the sunset and we can write fics to fill in all the gaps of his Steve-ness. His core character is retained. Hooray. 

But if he started an alternate timeline, he would not be here with Bucky and Sam like this in the original timeline as an old man, which suggests that he jumped back in the same timeline. Unless they invented technology to jump between timelines. Or Dr. Strange jumped him back to this bench just to drop the shield off and high five with Sam and then is going to take him back any second or some dumb shit that has no basis in anything we have seen on screen (see @pitchforkcentral86’s point above about grasping for bullshit just to make sense of this). Or it means that— 2. Steve did not do anything and did not give a fuck about it. Both of these are terrible. Terrible. I would rather have had Steve die than have this ending. And this has nothing to do with Stucky for me, because Stucky is mostly just a fun fandom thing for me. I don’t mind that he ended up with Peggy per se. It’s the implication that he didn’t save his friend, knowing EXACTLY — geographically and historically — where he was, not only saving Bucky but also all the innocent people Bucky would kill. OR I hate the implication that the smug motherfucker let Bucky rot — perhaps per their agreement, maybe he kept a promise, whatever — and he had the gall to call it “beautiful.” And this is after Markus and McFeely slaved for three movies to convince us that these are best fucking friends from childhood who are with each other “‘til the end of the line.” At the very least, even if they are not going to be physically together, friends do not let friends suffer for decades at the hands of Hydra, and if they do, they do not fucking enjoy themselves while it’s happening. If this is the Steve they are leaving us with, I do not want him. And I kind of don’t know what to do now.

Am I missing something? Please tell me I am. I’m desperate for a way to make sense of this. Truly.

OKAY, EDIT: 

@koubashii  very kindly sent me a message reminding me that Bruce spent quite a bit of time belaboring on the point that changing the past doesn’t change the future. She reminded me that Nebula killing her past self didn’t obliterate her from existence. I did forget about all this. So I can’t use Sam and Bucky Prime’s existence in their current form as evidence that Steve did nothing, if he went back in time. Point taken. THANK YOU!! 

(Edit: As far as I can gather from some research from actual astrophysicists and not MCU Bruce Banner, this “changing the past doesn’t change the future” stuff is just one small theory and does not appear to be the prevailing theory. However, this is the quantum realm, so we can make up all sorts of silly rules about infinite possibilities, infinite realities, yada yada, because nobody understands quantum physics except Hank Pym. Comic book science wins again!)

So, if he’s creating a separate timeline, let’s say he rescued Bucky early. Is there another Bucky running around with him? (New fun theory to make the pain better: He danced with Peggy, had a good time, went to find Bucky, married HIM, and that’s why he doesn’t want to talk about it with Sam. THERE. Fixed it.) 

But this still suggests that he broke off into an alternate timeline, one that did not disturb the current one. So if he went off into this entirely new timeline, how did he bounce into this old one? Pym particles? Sure. Fine. Comic science Whatever. Maybe he gets some. Did he just drop in by the lake and pop a squat on the bench right before Bucky told Sam to look? Sure. Was he there the whole time? Perhaps. Fine. Who the hell knows. 

So, one possible explanation is that there IS an alternate timeline where Steve did the right thing. And he jumped back here because Pym particles. His character’s integrity is potentially saved and who the fuck knows who he ended up with in the end. Let your imaginations run wild. It’s too late for Bucky Prime to get saved, poor Bucky. At least he has Sam and their upcoming Disney spinoff series, which sounds like a fucking joke when I write it (but srsly I’m dying and cannot wait). 

And there are still problematic things with this narrative for me, such as the idea that Steve’s entire happiness hinges on one woman he barely knew, largely because she didn’t scoff at him when he was smol and I will be DAMNED if Peggy kept his picture on her desk, and there is no effing way that she would even have her back to the door, but whatever. And I still hate that Steve and Bucky’s relationship arc was treated so horribly by these last two films. NO HOMO, indeed. Just in case we got the wrong idea from the intensity of the relationship that the MCU created for us. I will be posting more on this later. 

AND STILL — we should not have to work SO HARD for this kind of "meh” explanation. You should not need a group effort to make sense of your character’s ending, after so much wallowing in despair. And this might still reek of bullshit to many of you. I need to percolate more. 

Pym particles and Wakandan Vibranium trauma-healing brain magic — quick and dirty shortcuts for real character development. Thanks, MCU. Consider my brain exploded.

[elizas-writing]

When Wish Fulfillment Fantasies Meet Reality: A Re-Examination of Twilight

 **CW/TW: The following piece discusses dating violence with brief mentions to sexual assault and self-harm.**

This year, the last Fifty Shades movie finally came and went, and as its popularity slowly morphs into a bad memory for pop culture, I’m thinking again about the fiction’s effect on reality, particularly wish fulfillment fantasies, self-insert stories, etc etc.

This train of thought began with the Twilight series after watching Lindsay Ellis’s video essay, “Dear Stephenie Meyer,” where she revisits the hatred surrounding said franchise. While it’s definitely not without serious flaws, Twilight was not really as bad as people made it out to be. And most of the criticism was solely about millions of young girls and their moms liking a thing because, what a shock, our society tends to hate anything feminine. I was definitely one of those teenage girls who wanted nothing to do with Twilight, surprising no one probably. Even though I had enough plot summary from friends to pick up the actual problems of the story, I just had fun hating it for the sake of hating it and disassociating with anything feminine because I was neck-deep in my weeaboo phase.

Cut to about seven years later, I took a Vampires in Pop Culture class and Twilight (the first of the series) was on the reading list. With a more mature mind, I sat down, read it, and yeah, it really was not as bad as I thought. Yes, Bella’s too one-dimensional, Edward’s still pretty creepy, and the dialogue and prose is at best, ridiculous and at worst, stale. It knows its target audience is tweens and reads as such, which unfortunately doesn’t grip me as an adult. I gave up at the baseball scene cause I was ready to gouge my eyes out if I read one more description of the weather. And give credit where it’s due, the side characters have way more fascinating stories than Bella or Edward, and it’s a shame Meyer didn’t take a chance to further expand them instead. I couldn’t find much to be angry about with the first book, and I was honestly more bored than anything. But I also cannot deny the wish fulfillment fantasy driving the narrative which drew in a large audience all those years ago.

And wish fulfillment is fine. Self-insert is fine. Teenage girls are just figuring out what confidence is, and there is some reassurance in a fantasy where the totally out-of-league man of your dreams still finds you the most fascinating human being in the world and wants to give you all his undivided attention. Not every female lead needs to be a strong independent woman who don’t need no man. I still see people write self-insert fanfictions from time to time, and they’re very sweet and tender to imagine being loved by a favorite character. We actually consume these stories more than we like to admit.

Hell, one of my favorite guilty pleasure films is The Princess Diaries. In many ways, it hits the same notes as Twilight. It’s a pure wish fulfillment fantasy where the main girl is smart, but clumsy and awkward and just wants to be invisible. Yet she finds herself on a whirlwind journey of self-discovery where others find value in her, and she even falls in love with a boy who adores her regardless of how she perceives herself. Yet The Princess Diaries is such a popular chick flick among people my age. So why is something like The Princess Diaries fondly remembered as an integral part of a millenial/Gen Z childhood while Twilight is met with disdain and disgust?

The major differences boil down to the main female protagonists: Mia and Bella. While not an overly complex character, Mia has, well, a personality. Her journey is more personal of overcoming her social anxiety and realizing how much she can contribute to the world as a public figure if she just takes the leap of faith. Getting a romance in the end is just icing on the cake when she remembers who was there for her even when she was the awkward nerd and will love her regardless of appearance or social status. It’s cheesy and hokey as chick flicks do, but it’s a satisfying wish fulfillment fantasy where the protagonist is better off than where she started and what she was looking for was right there all along.

With Bella, I barely know who she is outside of her romantic interests. Sure, the books go into more detail of her intelligence and social anxiety, but it’s never seen in film. Her life completely revolves around her relationships to the point of obsession, but we never almost see what she’s like when not caught up in the supernatural love triangle. And unfortunately, it’s a problem which worsens with each sequel. The Twilight franchise frames romance as something Bella can’t live without to the point of shutting herself in for months when the Cullens leave in New Moon, refusing to talk to her friends and family, and getting night terrors. It’s intended to make you feel sorry for Bella, but her backwards priorities make her completely pathetic on how much of her life she misses because of some boy who didn’t hesitate to cut her from his life, and she was totally fine with him leaving if he didn’t turn her into a vampire.

Prioritizing unrequited love over your own well being is such an unhealthy idea to romanticize because there is far more to life than some dumb boy who won’t return your feelings. I saw my fair share of unsatisfying romances in young adulthood hanging on by a thread for some idealized love that’s never going to happen. Even though a break up is the simplest and most effective solution for both people to take care of themselves, they continue wasting their time being unhappy with each other and latching on to the rose-tinted view of how they first fell in love. I know some people don’t like the idea that you have to love yourself before someone else, but there’s still truth to the saying where you have to understand that being in a romantic relationship will not automatically fix all your problems and guarantee a happily ever after.

Aside from getting married and having a baby which almost kills her during pregnancy, Bella doesn’t grow as a character or develop any personality, and she just gets her happy ending anyway. The Volturi hint that Bella is special because she’s unaffected by vampire powers, but that detail is shuffled to the sidelines to get more of Jacob and Edward butting heads on who she’ll choose. Most of the story’s events are outside her control and she doesn’t explore further into what they mean about her being special, and even her turning into a vampire-- not even of her own volition, but as a last ditch attempt to save her while dying in childbirth-- doesn’t change that much about her except now she’s immortal and she can bang Edward without getting knocked unconscious again.

I know Twilight is commercial romantic fiction meant to go in one ear and out the other, but it’s still such a damn waste of great lore and  build up with no pay off. And Bella is such a bore of a protagonist to follow the entire time even for a blank slate who is meant to be easily identifiable for teenage readers. Again, not every female character needs to wield a sword or be flawless at everything they do, but having an engaging arc is the simplest bare minimum when writing your story’s protagonist. But that got lost in drawn out weather descriptions and, of course, the unhealthiest romances in fiction.

In a 2013 interview with TIME about her book, The Host, Meyer says she never thinks much about if her protagonists are good role models because “it’s fiction... I don’t think you should be using fictional characters as role models.” To that, I strongly disagree and am rather surprised to hear from Meyer given the great battles of Team Edward vs Team Jacob as each of the films released in theaters. Granted, this is an old interview, and I don’t know how much her opinion changed, but it still irks me.

Whether you like to admit it or not-- especially on the wonderful world of Tumblr.com--, fiction affects our reality. It alters our perception on politics, race, gender, lifestyles, and yes, even romance. Especially as kids and teenagers, we can’t help but find role models to base our ever-changing identities on and look up to so we can be better people for ourselves and society. It’s the reason why so many people define themselves on what Hogwarts house they’re in, why Disney milks Star Wars as long as they can, and why black communities arranged trips for everyone to see Black Panther. And unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to say Twilight is completely harmless in how it portrays the romances.

Just type in any search engine about abusive relationships in Twilight, and you get millions upon millions of analyses on how Edward and Jacob check off as abusers. They’re controlling, aggressive, easy to become jealous, and lacking any notion of personal boundaries. However, one abuser often forgotten in this conversation is Bella, who is such a despicable, emotional manipulator.

Remember how ridiculously depressed she gets in New Moon when Edward leaves? Well, she starts seeing visions of Edward checking in on her whenever she seems to be in danger. And she gets the bright idea to keep purposefully doing so-- including hanging out with shady gang members, crashing a motorcycle and jumping off a cliff-- just to get his attention and hopefully coax him to return to Forks. I’m surprised she didn’t just straight up say “If you leave me, I’ll kill myself” because it’s such textbook gaslighting. And when Edward is led to believe Bella died, then he attempts suicide! And she’s seriously surprised he would given how much needless self-harm she did over the months? What else did you think was going to happen?! I can’t even laugh at some of the badness of New Moon because Bella’s toxic behavior leaves such a sour taste in my mouth. Her severe romantic dependency went from being a damsel-in-distress to an abusive, emotionally manipulative screwball. And that’s just scraping the tip of the iceberg, folks.

Upon actually watching all the films for the first time, Edward’s behavior isn’t nearly as bad as my first perceptions when I was in middle school, but his possessiveness and lack of personal space are still incredibly uncomfortable. I know we all wrote that fanfiction where person A gets saved by person B from attempted gang rape, but Edward is so overbearingly and exhaustively protective, and it just gets worse in the sequels up until Bella’s finally transformed into a vampire. It is to the point where he hardly trusts Bella to do anything by herself knowing how massive of a klutz she is, and will pop into her home without permission, warning or respect of her personal space. As such, she never grows independence, much less learn how to protect herself or be prepared when supernatural forces come for her while the Cullens leave.

Edward may have good intentions to think of Bella’s safety with the context of other vampires mercilessly killing humans in Washington state, but he’s also on a slippery slope of controlling nearly every aspect of her life, especially when she might start feeling romantic for someone else, because guess what dude? You left for over half a year. This continuing behavior throughout the series heavily contributes to Bella’s unhealthy dependency on a romantic partner to the point where she feels like she can’t live without them. Granted, that doesn’t excuse her emotional manipulation, but because she never learns self-defense on the off chance no one else is there to save her, it’s no wonder why she has severe issues with separation and loneliness. Like I said before, you can’t have a healthy romantic relationship if you think it’s going to automatically fix all your problems. Your romantic partner isn’t your therapist or coping mechanism, especially if you can’t handle a simple break up or if said partner wasn’t even that great to begin with.

You’d think Jacob would be off the hook since he at least doesn’t watch Bella while she’s sleeping, but he’s not escaping unscathed. Despite how the series tries to explain what imprinting is, it’s glanced over so quickly on the now creepy relationship between Jacob and Bella’s daughter, even all things considered for a rapidly growing vampire child. He also has a ton of aggressive tendencies as part of the werewolf gene to the point where he will inevitably hurt Bella-- as illustrated with another pack member’s live-in girlfriend who has scars across her face--, and has zero respect for consent as he forcibly kisses her on multiple occasions. Yeah, cause painting your Native American characters-- and only prominent characters of color-- as inevitable, aggressive predators sure is good representation and definitely not some awful racial stereotype. Jacob embodies the most basic descriptors of toxic masculinity between his sense of entitlement that Bella should choose him over Edward and the “boys will be boys” mentality as though Jacob is completely incapable of any self-control, werewolf or not. Given the recent news surrounding Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination and his defenders claiming “what boy hasn’t done this” and that he shouldn’t be punished for his actions as a young man, Jacob’s character is one of the most dangerous aspects of the series to be romanticized as a wish fulfillment fantasy. He’s not only based on gross racial stereotypes, but also on harmful patriarchal ideas of men thinking they’re entitled to women without any consideration to their autonomy. Normalizing this behavior as attractive qualities in a partner allows men to run from their actions without consequence.

And this toxic masculinity only heightened when Fifty Shades of Grey entered the spotlight for pop culture to bash, but had much more legitimate criticisms to garner hatred.

Fifty Shades of Grey changes up the wish fulfillment fantasy where instead of a vampire, the clumsy and awkward female lead, Anastasia Steele, is swept away by billionaire, Christian Grey, who’s happy to spoil her with grand luxuries but has a troubled past which makes it difficult for him to love. Oh, and he’s into BDSM and writes up a questionable contract for Anastasia on all the kinky shit he wants to do. And Anastasia is so sweet and innocent she doesn’t even know what an anal plug is (like, it’s right there in the name, sweetheart. You can’t be this dumb). As you do, things go wrong, they take a break, Christian dumps his tragic anime backstory on Anastasia as a pathetic excuse to apologize, people from his past show up because reasons, and they eventually live happily ever after, married with a baby on the way.

Not only does Christian hit the same abuser red flags as Edward, Jacob and Bella on top of being the worst dom in history, but the series passes off that anyone can be fixed with the power of love. Once again, your romantic partner isn’t your therapist. Trauma may explain his behavior, but that doesn’t excuse what he put Anastasia through, and neither is it suddenly her job to fix him. And abusers like Christian are never reformed so easily with love; more often than not, they use it as leverage to manipulate and keep the relationship going for the sake of control. Sure, it sounds hot to be in a BDSM relationship with a billionaire ready to spoil you, but do the ends really justify the means of that sweet wish fulfillment? Is it really that great of a fantasy to play your partner’s therapist and humor their extreme control and possessiveness to the point where you’re almost not allowed to be an individual?

It’s one thing to have guilty pleasures and wish fulfillment fantasies. But after a while, you wonder what it is about a certain piece of media which makes it a guilty pleasure. It’s one thing if Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey are guilty pleasures in some of the enjoyably bad writing, unnatural dialogue or squandered potential. But upholding these romances as ideal and disregarding all the blatant warning signs of abusive relationships? That’s where we really need to take a step back and wonder why this is remotely okay to normalize, especially for impressionable teenage girls. Even though I was mostly amused by the films’ bad writing and these poor actors pushing through for their paychecks, there was also a fair amount of content which was too uncomfortable to laugh at-- Bella’s emotional manipulation, the portrayal of werewolves, and the unsubtle anti-abortion message in Breaking Dawn: Part 1 just to name a few. It’s baffling how these properties became cultural phenomenons for their “romances of the century” when most of these character really need couples’ counseling.

Thankfully, these franchises didn’t made too lasting impressions and for the most part are forgotten. Stephenie Meyer quietly retired to continue taking care of her kids, and EL James just kinda disappeared from the media spotlight since the last film released. Maybe Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey aren’t the worst series to happen to mainstream media, but they still heavily reflect a society which to this day hesitates to call dating violence what it is. Where finding love in another takes priority over self-care. Where people still struggle to define abuse because “if that’s abuse, then everyone I know has been abused.” Where despite sexual assault survivors’ testimonies, polygraph tests, supporters, and grueling mental exhaustion to tell their stories, their abusers roam free without consequence and are still allowed power with their nasty holier-than-thou attitudes to silence anyone who dares question their character.

We’re slowly getting better in these kind of fantasies for teens with films like Love, Simon and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before with genuinely health romances where the characters have to confront their flaws and grow. We’re a lot more critical of relationship dynamics in film than we were over a decade ago, especially with #MeToo in the last year. But part of me is still worried if we’ll have another trend like Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey where it’s blindly defended because it’s fiction and disregard when people romanticize the severely problematic elements which don’t guarantee happily-ever-afters for couples’ in reality. As the possibility of reverting to pre-Roe vs. Wade days becomes more of a likelihood, at what point do we finally acknowledge that a simple fantasy isn’t automatically above criticism?

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