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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

Can I request a drabble, hobi is kinda like a band singer and Y/N is like his old time friend and they like had a falling out bc he got super successful but years after they're like together again? IS IT TOO SPECIFIC UHM :")

parallel

pairing: hoseok x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: hobi’s kind of an asshole and is vERY much emotionally repressed, y/n’s serotonin is dependent on wearing bridesmaid gowns, the dwindling one-sided pining anD the everlasting question of where the fuck was hoseok when you needed him :D // gif is from pinterest!

notes: this drabble really hits close to home and tysm for the request babe!! even if i’m a month late yeesh :O

you can’t believe yourself either when you say it

but holy shit — weddings are definitely your thing!

there’s something about the union of marriage that gets your head into overdrive but in a gOOD way

there’s just something so pulling about last-minute changes and family drama and awkward trips to the restroom that make your mind mHMMMM THIS IS IT CHIEF

yea granted that not every wedding you go and participate in isn’t exactly straight out of a rom-com

lmao sometimes it’s so obvious that the bride doesn’T love the groom but hey!!! who’s keeping tabs :D

you love wedding environments so much that here you are, two years out of uni and a couple of gigs later — couples are LITERALLY fighting over you

heh not to brag but uh

you weren’t recognized as best wedding planner for two years in a row and have your face in multiple covers of bridal magazines and such

time magazine recognized you as one of the most influential people in the scene last year but hey !!!!! no big deal lads

“i am asking you for just one minute, y/n!! stop being a wedding planner and start being my maid of honor!!”

nayeon exasperates and tugs you by your sleeve, having already noticed your second nature of taking charge the moment you entered the hall

after all, this is just cake tasting! that’s why she’s brought her maid of honor to help her out, nOT immediately go fishing for a clipboard

“well if the planner you hired wasn’t so sloppy-...” it’s a fact! he relies too much on his tablet and doesn’t even have any paper with him, and even if he’s already using a tablet, he doesn’t even use different colors to mark out!

apparently nayeon can’t handle the truth because she’s stamping her hand to your mouth that’s already a frown, about to suffocate you if only you didn’t bite it

>:|

y/n - 1 | jisoo’s hand - 0

you’re just a lil bit cranky alright

the last wedding you’ve catered to was just three days ago, and well you’re thankful for your job!!! really!!! bc not everyone is as booked as you nor sought-for

but there’s something about her wedding that puts you off :((

she’s very kindly yet firmly told you that no, you would absolutely not be her wedding planner and coordinator

“b-but i-“

“i want you to relax! and it’s-...”

“we said-“

“we said when we were kids that we’d plan each other’s wedding, but we didn’t swear on it! and i want you to-...”

“y-you told-“

“i told you that we didn’t have a wedding planner yet so you’d intentionally clear your schedule for me! and here we are-...”

“i’ll cry-“

“aww you big baby, save it for the wedding! i told you, just relax, m’kay? let yoongi handle the planning, and you do the unwinding.”

goddamn yoongi

yoongi who’s a wedding planner in his sPARE time could fuck right off

you don’t care if he’s very persuasive and firm and happened to book nayeon’s wedding even it was peak season :((

you don’t wanna admit it, but being a wedding planner has basically been your personality trait for the past years and it’s hard to cope when your job is to not.... plan and worry

anyways besides that

you’re a little iffy because nayeon’s wedding is your wake-up call

you’ve been planning weddings.... but uh when the FUCK is yours

u are so tempted to put a sock over your head and just yell gIVE ME A RING!!! PUT IT IN THE BAG

unfortunately, you don’t even have someone in your life to readily propose to you

you would have had someone, actually —

if only hoseok didn’t wake up one day and decide to remove you from his life

if only your childhood friend didn’t suddenly decide that you’re not worthy of his attention and time!!!

god he thinks he’s a bigshot

and well yea ok he IS a bigshot

who doesn’t know jung hoseok at this point :((

you’ve always figured that he’d be successful at whatever path he chooses and for a moment, you feel sorry for him that he’s stuck in such a state of mundaneness

he’s stuck between home and school and since he has no choice — you

your each other’s day one!!! the moment your mom went home from the hospital, her first instinct was to knock on hoseok’s mom’s door and then iMMEDIATELY present you to her

the two of them are absolute best friends and why not make our babies the same way ya know????

the two of you were apparently so close as babies that when one was crying, the other would comfort

and you weren’t even a year old then????

you’ve shared cribs and milk bottles and clothes and everything in between with hobi

so why is it that when you’re just almost at the peak of your life with graduation, he just suddenly decides to drop you?

he’s suddenly too cool for you as if he hasn’t spent countless nights crying on your shoulder for any inconveniece that gets brought up

he can’t even meet your eyes :(((

that’s why graduation is the blandest and emptiest day you could recall

hoseok is over there with his bandmates looking the absolute hAPPIEST and you’re there by the corner.,.,. alone by yourself feeling like your cap has the words dropped by jung hoseok :D all over it

he’s at his peak and at the top of his life performing and touring, whenever and wherever

he’s happy

but without you in it :(

the irrational (and probably rational) part in your head is beyond infuriated at him because atleast offer an explanation!!! if you did wrong at one point, then he should tell you!!!

not suddenly pretend that you were nEVER in his life

even his mom feels guilty and ashamed over his son’s actions so she orders flowers from the shop signed underneath your company, then send it back to you

for awhile she tried to pretend that it was hoseok but no :((( that man will physically convulse if he doesn’t add (atleast) three hearts after his name

you hate him so much that you still religiously visit his instagram and wonder if he could see your likes despite a couple other million liking the same posts

you hate him so much that he’s number one on every single thing in your spotify wrapped

you hate him sO much that you wonder who’s behind the songs his band plays and how you’d wish that you’d be the one he’s writing about

“is the cake that... perfect?”

nayeon gently places a hand on your shoulder to which you flinch and she backs off because christ i’m nOT taking the cake away from you!!!

oh my god why are you tearing up

“yeah, yeah! it’s so good. you should try it nayeon!” you’re scrambling to scrape up your plate, almost shoving the fork into her mouth as she squeals with the sudden attack

yoongi has ???? hovering around his head but this is nOT about you my man

he sneaks a look to the bride’s plate and uh-huh... yup..... she has the same moist chocolate fudge cake with coffee ganache on her alright

the topic of hoseok that you bring up to yourself, one that no one knows (not even nayeon!!!), is just something that never seems to vacate your mind fully

it’s been two years and you’re still so touchy and you dON’T KNOW WHY

he probably doesn’t even think about you when he’s drunk and bored

“this champagne must be so... nice?”

nayeon thinks out loud as you’re once again crying into doing your maid of honor duties

she’s a lil worried if she’s being honest but you always whisk her away when she’s about to ask

like right now :D

“are you-...”

“i just can’t believe you’re getting married!! wow, you’re so cool. with the love of your life. then the two of you could be cool together after the wedding. you aren’t gonna forget me once you’re married, are you? nayeon do you think that i would ever be married-...”

you should just accept it now :((

you’re a little bit of a mess and a half underneath your pantsuits and walkie-talkies and the special pride you’d carry whenever the couple mentions you in their wedding speeches

absolutely WHY in the hell do you think about hoseok when it comes to weddings???

it’s almost a pavlovian response when you instruct the people to open the doors and the bride to start walking and your mind would iNSTANTLY think about him

it’s sometimes awkward when the couple would ask ah !!!! ms. y/n u are such a world-renowned wedding planner !!!! your own wedding must’ve been magnificent :D

aha actually about dat.,.,

you get tons of gifts of gratitude from just a single client alone and you don’t have hoseok and his stupidly powerful arms to help carry boxes back to your car

you don’t have him to give untouched and left-over flowers to

you don’t have him to remind you when you’re getting a little ahead of yourself over just talking to sponsors and trying to squeeze in as much as you could for an initial budge

you don’t have hoseok, in all his glory, to put his hand on the small of your back when you’re talking to how you need the fireworks to start the moment the band starts playing ice ice baby and the vendor does nOT need to know why it’s the song chosen by the couple

it’s what he’d do when you’re trying to fit two semesters’ worth of notes into a pricey A3 notebook that you’ve bought

and just how many weddings do you plan and coordinate, even within just a span of two week?

a lot.

often.

you think about hoseok a lot. often. oftenly a lot.

but aha nOT TODAY!!!

today’s nayeon’s wedding and you’re not gonna ruin it for her by projecting your yearning into your best friend’s wedding that clearly isn’t yours

10/10 she’d probably stop reciting her vows to ask you why you’re sniffling

your only source of distraction is your gown!!!

your maid of honor is the absolute pRETTIEST and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel gorgeous in it

it’s floor-length silk!!! fLOOR-LENGTH !! SILK !! GOWN

it’s in a deep mauve with an off-shoulder situation and a little risqué bit of cleavage!!! cinches right at the top of your waist and poofs a little and oh my god mayhaps you aRE pretty

god hoseok may have not written you a song, but sean kingston dEFINITELY did

nayeon knew you’d be catching everyone’s attention as much as her wedding dress would and she’s absolutely happy and fine with it!!

in fact she’s strategically practiced her throws for her bouquet so you’d catch it and your gown would nOt go to waste

having a wedding happen right where you are, but being in it as a guest instead of a planner, is just so much... calmer

you’re not fixing the chaos but you’re just watching it!!! if you feel a little more bubbly then you’re gonna partake in it hee-hee

yoongi’s actually not so bad

he could just be a little too lax which ends up with him being lost and distraught

you could see so much of you in him when you were just starting out and it’s endearing actually

(( nayeon’s told you in passing that she once told yoongi that you were her best friend and he looked both intimidated and awed at the same time ))

the only thing you help yoongi with is sending him a thumbs-up every now and then and he perks uP because that’s the signal that he’s doing a good job and not fucking up

nayeon looks so beautiful and you’re already tearing up fixing her veil :((

you know how wedding photographers and videographers LOVE people crying???? they r probably eating your shit up so quick that you won’t be surprised if you take up atleast half of the same-day edit of their wedding film

there’s something so serene about the hecticness everyone’s indulged themselves in

you’re grinning when you walk down the aisle because you realize that omg you haven’t doNE this in a long time!!!

the last time you did was testing out the aisle for a client that wanted it ala crazy rich asians and you had to walk back and forth cOLD-ASS water with damp rolled-up pant cuffs before they got the temperature and the levels right

nah you should definitely know how it’d be because after all :D you aRE the consultant for that scene in crazy rich asians :D no biggie :D

it’s such a serene blast to see everyone happy and in their element

you’re sitting the reception out bc yoongi very kindly pleaded to please give him notes and promising that he’d never tell it to anyone else

the whole planning process for nayeon and not oNCE did he bring a notebook..,., but he just hAPPENS to have one when you’re telling him how to say no to your client

“listen, you have to tell them in the sincerest way possible, that you tried everything. it gets them going when you tell them that you even pleaded with the vendors, but don’t go too low on your knees, alright? and then after that, you say a strict no. no, because their choice of flowers is absolutely sHIT for their tie-dye theme they’re so adamant about!”

yoongi has never listened so intently

not even when his roommate lists out their grocery checklist

“mhmm. and if they still push, should i give them an ultimatum? or tell them about a wedding that totally happened that did exactly what they were planning, and how much the guests hated it?”

okay nOW he’s talking

“what you do is...”

the buzz of the reception never really dies down because it’s barely even starting!! the couple’s still finishing up on their pictorial which gives everyone time to get to the venue and freshen up or get last-minute gifts lmao

you know that it’s starting when the band or the dj starts doing polished mic checks

mic check! one, two, three! sKRRRRRRRRRRRRRRA

no, no

there’s something definitely wrong

the rolling and the lull of routine words just seem so familiar

mic check! J-A-Y! H-O-P-E! J-HOPE! jung-...

fucking

gOD

that’s hoseok.

that is most dEFINITELY hoseok

you turn your back to see the stage set-up and god...... fuck

it’s someone you haven’t seen in the flesh for two years yet spent the years of your life with before that

he looks sickening in his black mandarin-collared suit with thick white lining on it wITH his hair styled up and parted to the site

it’s even more sickening for you because you don’t actually know if you can mANAGE to be here

you’re standing up abruptly and yoongi squawks at that because he is the furthesT thing from being finished about asking how to make the guests arrive on time without holding a field trip assembly-like type of line with the megaphone

the fastest way out was dashing through the front part and you must have forgotten that hoseok has a knack for catching things with his perfectly good eyesight

“y/n?”

ok what now

he mumbles your name to the mic, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes trail the speed-walking speck of mauve from in front of him

his little question to himself must have gotten people more than curious

they’re already mORE than curious because it’s his goddamn band that’s playing!!!! and the fees are not cheap and it’s practically impossible to book them!!!

but jungkook, their drummer, was a close friend of the groom’s and alright.,.,. okay maybe we CAN play at weddings now

ok hoseok’s mind is probably just playing tricks on him and he should finish setting up before the lights dim again for what they insist is the 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

but then he can’t help but look oNE last time

then he sees the watch he’s gifted you on his wrist — one that he was supposed to give you at graduation but later made his mom give it to you instead and not say that it was from him

...

....

whew he might need his inhaler for this one and he doesn’t even hAVE asthma

oh my god what the hELL is hoseok doing here????

you haven’t seen him for two years, and the moment you do, it’s in your best friend’s wedding with no date present??

you’re clearly panicking and the only form of caffeine you’ve gotten is the pre-game of getting a few bites from the coffee ganache in nayeon’s wedding cake that she was munching on while getting her makeup done

you know what!! it’s fine

it’s totally fine :D

hoseok is just hoseok and you’re not gonna be intimated by the man you’ve been loving in the sidelines from practically your whole life :D

it’s not a big deal!

besides, people are looking for you bc you’re supposed to give the opening toast to welcome nayeon and her groom in

you’re walking, you’re talking, aaaaaaaand-

yeah this is not nOT a big deal

you’re crumbling from the inside out because seeing hoseok is just too painful after two years of wondering where you could’ve went wrong and what could’ve happened if the two of you didn’t fall out

you feel especially bitter when hoseok starts singing their famous song about love and everything in between

everyone’s sWOONING and on their feet and you’re literally just there vibrating with how furious you are

you keep downing the good champagne as iF it’s gonna get you drunk

yoongi has a clue that the server must be a little dizzy having to go and back forth to your table so he just offers his portion to you

you’re so goddamn busy and absorbed with loathing him that you don’t even turn your back to notice that his eyes keep flickering to you

even at the cheesiest lyric, hobi expects that you’d atleast LOOK at him for that one but nOOOO your champagne flute and the blondie beside you is just much more interesting

you’re buzzing with anger that you aren’t enjoying this reception At All

you fail to even recognize that nayeon’s intentionally had your favorite food to be served!!! and you have an extra portion delivered to your table!!!

you just want your suffering to eND wow absolutely how much longer could this go

you’re so busy with cussing the whole ordeal in your head that you didn’t even notice how the band isn’t playing anymore and instead everyone’s swooning over the cake

it’s lost in you that hoseok’s shooed yoongi from his chair, sitting right beside you and even scooting closer until his knees bump to your own

and that’s when it sinks in

hobi doesn’t even have time to tell you how beautiful you look because you’ve gone straight to seething him

“for the record, i want you to know that i hate you.”

...

okay hoseok didn’t expect that

for all he knows, the two of you even vOWED to never say the h word even if it’s meant jokingly!!

it’s a lethal word and the two of you collectively agreed to never play with it in regards to saying to one another

but well here you are

you’re saying it as if you’ve never been more sure of anything in your whole life

you feel actually relieved to say it to him right to his face, a miniscule weight lifted from your shoulders while your arms are crossed just by looking at him

hoseok does you one better with a timid chuckle, looking down on his rings that he’s fiddling with nervously

“yeah. i hate me too.”

.... oh

you’re perplexed at his reply so much so that you’re speechless

you’ve been keeping to yourself what you should say to him the moment you see him for two years and now that he agrees to what you’ve just said.,.,.,

oh fuck that

“i hate you so much, hoseok! i don’t even know what i did wrong and i asked even your own mother what’s wrong with me! did you know that you are, without a doubt, so fucking selfish???”

you exclaim as quietly as you could but that doesn’t stop people from glancing because the two most-known people in the room, besides the bride and groom, are having what seems to be an... intimate conversation with how close the two of you are??

“did you even try once to consider how painful it was for me to wonder why i just am the way that i am? or is that even too big of an inconveniece for you to think about because you’re so busy?”

“did you suddenly get too big for me, huh?” you ask straightly without malice, not even thinking about the double meaning because clearly, you’re too PRESSED lightly jabbing your finger to his chest

right he deserves that

hoseok’s fucked up big-time, that much he knows

his eyes are actually stinging right now and he would ask you for your handkerchief that you used to always carry for him but uH he thinks he doesn’t deserve any of that

“why couldn’t you just tell me what was in your mind? you know that nothing would change whatever it was that-”

“i love you, okay?”

hoseok interrupts you with his mumble before he sets his eyes down once again on your watch

you’re speechless for long this time

“..... w-what?”

okay maybe he fucked up even more

“listen i-...”

“if you love me, a single text wouldn’t have hurt, hobi!!”

your chest doesn’t hurt anymore but it iS constricting with the amount of emotions and scenarios you’re trying to process

he’s kinda lost because oh my god you aren’t mAD anymore!!

and you don’t look fazed that he just declared his love for you

“i dropped you because i-i — i don’t want the people i love seeing me fuck up, y’know? i finished uni for the sake of it, and i didn’t even know if the band thing would work out!!”

“but baby it dID work out!!!!”

jesus christ hoseok may be a fucking iDIOT

you’re shaking him by the shoulders and he actually has to stand up so he wouldn’t fall by your ministrations

you feel so happy because your processing was just about to be finished, equal parts relieved and happy and maybe a tiny bit confused still

“it did work out because look at you now!! hobi, you could’ve just called me and i would’ve accepted the call before it even rings!!” you’re happily frustrated with him that you push him until the two of you are in the dance floor, his mouth curving up both in disbelief and giddiness

“i didn’t because i thought-...”

he’s interrupted by a swift and tight hug to his middle, his arms moving on their own to envelope you in his warmth

the top of your head still smells the same :D

his purpose is lost before he gathers his bearings once again, freezing in his stance before weakly attempting to push you off

“... you were married.”

the harsh sQUINT of your eyes you’re giving him prompt him to explain

why is he so nervous

“i-i go to your instagram? and well you uh, you posted this pic of you in the middle of the aisle???? you had your back turned and your silhouette’s seen then you were holding a bouquet!!! then after that, i-i never opened your account. jesus christ, is your husband here with you, y/n? what am i supposed to-...”

the realization’s starting to sink into hoseok because it’s something he’s shoved to the back of his head and now he’s seeing it straight-on

you’re throwing your head back laughing at him :D

great

now he’s both heartbroken AND a fool

there’s a gentle kiss on his cheek, one he didn’t expect and one he doesn’t hate

“i’m a wedding planner.”

god now this is just so fucking funny

the two of you fell out and remained distanced because of just a series of unprecedented miscommunications!!!

the whole thing is so ridiculous that it actually feels light and relieving to talk about

“you’re.... a wedding planner,” he mumbles once again for confirmation, his loose arms around your waist now tightening

oh my god

hoseok starts chuckling to himself out of delight, turning to full-on cackles with you at how much the two of you have just been beside each other like parallel lines

“i need to make up the past two years to you.”

he declares seriously as a promise, pressing a tender wet kiss to your cheek that gets you giggling

“only if you write me a song,” you do him one better, kissing him on the corner of his mouth

“don’t you know that most of them are about you? anyways, you should plan our wedding once it happens,” he’s forward with his words, having waited long enough that he nuzzles his nose to yours

you’re gonna do him one even better

you’re gonna go right for the kill, the truth spilling out of you before you kiss him longingly, for the first time that it feels that it’s been something you’ve always yearned for

“don’t you know that you’re in my mind for every single one?”

#feedback pls and thank you :D YEEEEET LAST PIECE FOR 2020!!!!#hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #hoseok drabble #hoseok drabbles #hoseok au #hoseok oneshot #hoseok oneshots #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok angst #hoseok angst imagine #hoseok fluff #hoseok fluff imagine #hoseok fluff imagines #hoseok fic rec #hoseok fic recs

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years

Note

Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )

We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?

Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.

I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).

Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.

God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.

Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.

I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.

Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.

Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.

Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?

Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).

Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.

Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.

The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.

And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.

With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.

Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”

Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.

Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.

In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.

More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.

Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.

In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.

Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.

Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.

It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.

As for the classism.

While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.

Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.

He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.

Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.

#ask #anon #headcanons #albus dumbledore #manipulative dumbledore #dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys #as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded #except maybe his choice in wardrobe #the man has some elton john style

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sinkix · 4 years

Text

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here

✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧ ✧✧✧✧✧

Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library.

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off.

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating???

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

#hq #haikyuu #nekoma #yaku morisuke #lev haiba #yamamoto taketora #kuroo testuro #kenma kozume #inuoka sou

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

Is buying the new Harry Potter game supporting transphobes because I've been seeing a lot of that on twitter? Not playing it. Pirating is fine, but actually paying for it.

Hi, anon!

I’ve seen a lot of the same and had initially thought to post my thoughts on the issue… before I got a very angry ask condemning me for a post where I admitted that I thought the game looked great and was excited to play it. I can no longer link to that post because I deleted it: a late night, impulsive decision made in an effort to try and protect myself from further flaming. Thus, I considered ignoring this ask under the same justification… before realizing that it might not matter in the long run. The Harry Potter: Legacy trailer has been out for just a few days and already I have gotten that furious ask, been told off by a friend for mentioning the trailer, and was questioned (antagonistically) about why I had added a Harry Potter related book to my Goodreads list. They’re small and potentially coincidental anecdotes, but it feels as if any engagement with Harry Potter is slowly coming under scrutiny, not just the (supposed—more on that below) crime of purchasing the new game. Given that I will always engage with Harry Potter related media, if there’s any chance such subtle criticism will continue regardless of whether I make the “right” choice to boycott the game or not, I might as well explain my position. Especially for someone who asked politely! Thanks for that 💜.

Which leads to the disclaimer: Any anon hate will be unceremoniously deleted. This is a complicated issue and I intend to write about it as such. I ask that any readers go into this post with good faith and a willingness to acknowledge that this situation isn’t as black and white as they may prefer it to be. If that’s not something you can emotionally handle—which is 100% fine. Some subjects we’re simply not inclined to debate—or if you’re just looking to get in a cheap shot, please hit the back button.

Right. Introduction done. Now here’s the tl;dr: saying things like “Buying this game is inherently selfish/transphobic” isn’t the hot take people want it to be. Is boycotting Legacy one (very small—we’ll get to that too) way of showing support for the trans community? Yes. Is buying the game proof that you’re a selfish transphobe? No. This isn’t a bad SAT question. Legacy boycotters are to trans supporters as Legacy buyers are to ___? The argument that someone is selfish for buying the game is basically that you are choosing a non-essential video game over the respect and lives of trans individuals, but the logic breaks down when we acknowledge that purchasing a game has no real life impact on a trans individual’s safety, support, etc.

“But Clyde, you’re giving Rowling money. She is then using that money to support anti-trans organizations. Thus, you have actively put more harm into the world.” Have I? I’m not going to get into whether/how much/what kind of money Rowling is receiving from this project because the fact is we don’t know and we’ll likely never know. Suffice to say, she probably will get some portion of any $60/$70 purchase. The real question is whether those sales have any meaningful impact. Reputable information on Rowling’s net worth is hard to come by, but it seems to be somewhere between 600 million and 1 billion pounds. Or, to put it another way: a fuck ton. And money keeps rolling in from a franchise that is so, so much bigger than a single video game. It literally doesn’t matter how much money you might put in her pocket via Legacy because she’s already so goddamn rich she can do whatever she wants. If Rowling wants to give a million dollars to the heinous “charity” of her choice, she can. She will. You are not directly contributing to this horror because that money may as well already exist. Every person in the world could refuse to buy this game and she’d shrug, going about her disgusting life because it literally does not affect her in any meaningful way. You’re refusing to give the murderer a knife when they’re got direct access to a knife-making factory. Horrible as it is to hear, you can’t stop them from doing something horrific with that tool.

For me, this is the straw argument of the Harry Potter world. Not straw as in strawman, but literally straws. Remember how everyone was talking about plastic straws, swore off them, and subsequently deemed anyone who still used one to be selfish people who didn’t care about the environment? It didn’t matter if you had a certified “good” reason for using one (disability) or a “selfish” reason (carrying straws everywhere on the off chance you wanted a drink is a pain in the ass)—you’re a horrible person who wants the planet to die. Same deal here. If you can swear off straws, great! Do what tiny bit of good you can. But if you can’t or even don’t want to give them up, the reality is that your “selfishness” doesn’t make a significant difference in the world. The amount of plastic corporations are pouring into the ocean makes your actions inconsequential. It’s not like voting where every small, individual act adds up to a significant total. This is your lack up against others’ staggering abundance. It’s not adding a few drops of water until you have a full bucket, it’s trying to un-flood the boat with a teaspoon while someone else is spraying it with the hose. Have you, on the most technical level, made a difference by moving that teaspoon of water out of the boat? Yes. Is it a difference that holds any meaning in regards to the desired outcome? Not really. Now apply all that to Rowling. She is so phenomenally wealthy—with additional wealth coming in every day—that your purchase of Legacy is a teaspoon of water in her ocean of funds. It’s inconsequential.

“But Clyde, buying this game would support her and supporting her sends the message that what she believes is okay.” Exact same argument as above. JKR’s fame is so astronomical that no video-game boycott could ever make a dent in it. For every 100 people who swear off her work there are another 1,000 who continue to engage with both her writing and the writing related to her world because she is that prominent. Harry Potter is one of the largest franchises of all time, second only to things like Pokémon and Star Wars. This isn’t some indie creator who you can ignore into silence. The reality is that Rowling is here to stay and we have to take far more substantial acts to counteract that influence.

Even more importantly, buying the game is not evidence that you support her views and the black and white belief that it does is an easy distraction from those harder “How do we improve the lives of trans people?” questions. I started compiling a list of stories with problematic authors only to realize the number of incredibly popular texts with awful histories attached to them unnecessarily increased the length of an already long post. Everything from Game of Thrones to Dr. Seuss—if you love it, chances are one of the authors involved has a history of misogyny, racism, homophobia, etc. Which I don’t say as a way of excusing these authors, nor as a way to silence the justified and necessary call outs on their work. Rather, I bring this up to acknowledge that engaging with these stories cannot be concrete evidence for how you view the minority group in question. The reasons for consuming these stories are incalculable and at the end of the day no one needs a “correct” reason for that consumption (my teacher forced me to read the racist book, I only watched the homophobic TV show so I could call out how horrible it was, etc.) If fiction were an indicator of our real life beliefs we’d all be the most horrifying creatures imaginable. I may be severely uncomfortable with the queer baiting in Supernatural, but if a friend says they bought the DVD collection my response is not, “How dare you support those creators. You’re homophobic.” In the same way, someone purchasing Legacy should not generate the response, “How dare you support her. You’re transphobic.” There’s a miles’ worth of pitfalls in connecting the statements “You purchased a game based on the world created by a transphobic author” and “You yourself are transphobic.”

So if buying Legacy does not add additional harm to the trans community from a financial perspective, and it doesn’t make a dent in Rowling’s platform, and playing a game is not evidence of your feelings towards the group the author hates… what are we left with? “But Clyde, it’s the principal of the thing. I don’t want to support a TERF” and that is an excellent argument. Your morals. Your ethics. What you can stomach having done or not done. But the “your” is incredibly important there. People need to understand that this is their own line in the sand and that if someone else’s line is different, that doesn’t mean they’re automatically a worse person than you. For example, I have made the choice not to eat at Chick-Fil-A. Not because I believe that me not giving them $3.75 for a sandwich will make a difference in their influence on the world, but because it makes a difference to me. It helps me sleep at night. So if not purchasing Legacy helps you sleep at night? That’s a fantastic reason not to buy it. But the flipside is that if someone else does purchase it that is not a reliable reflection of their morals, no more than I think my friends are homophobic for grabbing lunch at Chick-Fil-A now and then. Sometimes you just want a sandwich.

“But Clyde, why would you want to buy it? Rowling is such a shit-stain I don’t understand how anyone can stomach supporting her—whether that support has an impact or not. Maybe someone eats at Chick-Fil-A because it’s close to them and they’re too busy to go elsewhere, or it’s all they can afford, or they don’t know how homophobic they are. There are lots of reasons to explain something like that. But you’re not ignorant to Rowling’s problem and there’s no scenario where you have to play this game, let alone spend money on it. So why?”

The reality is that I will likely be buying Legacy, second-hand if I can, but new if it comes to that, so I’ll give some of my personal answers here, in descending order of presumed selfishness:

5. Part of my work involves studying video games/Harry Potter and as a researcher of popular culture, my career depends on keeping up with major releases: good and bad. I often engage with stories I wholeheartedly disagree with for academic purposes, like Fifty Shades of Gray.

4. I find the “Just pirate it!” solution to be flawed. I’ve spent the last four months struggling to get my laptop fixed and I currently have no income to buy another if it were to suddenly develop a larger problem. I am not going to risk my $2,000 lifeline on an illegal download, no matter how safe and easy the Internet insists it is.

3. We’ve been told that Rowling has not been involved in Legacy in any significant manner and I do want to support Portkey. No, not just financially because I know many others have insisted that everyone good has already been paid. Game companies still need to sell games. That’s why they exist. There’s a possibility that a company with just two mobile games under its belt will be in trouble if this completely flops. Is my purchase going to make or break things? No. Same reality as whether it will put new, influential money in Rowling’s pocket to do horrific things with. But I’d like to help a company that looks as if they put a lot of heart and energy into a game only to get hit with some real shit circumstances outside of their control. Even if they’re not impacted financially or career-wise… art is meant to be consumed. I know if I wrote a Harry Potter fic and everyone boycotted it because they want nothing to do with Rowling anymore, I’d be devastated. Sometimes, you can’t separate supporting the good people from supporting the bad. Not in a media landscape where thousands of people are involved in singular projects.

2. I’m invested in reclaiming excellent works created by horrible authors. That’s fandom! We don’t know much about Legacy yet—this is pure, unsubstantiated speculation—but this new story could be a step forward from Rowling’s books, giving us some of the respect for minority groups that she failed at. That’s the sort of work I want to promote because Harry Potter as a concept is great and I think it’s worth transforming it for our own needs and desires. The reality is that as long as Rowling is alive she’ll benefit from licensed material, but if that material can start taking her world in better directions? I want to support that too.

1. I literally just want to play it. That’s it. That’s my big justification. I think it looks phenomenal and I was itching to get my hands on it the second the trailer dropped. And you know what? I’m not in a good place right now to deny myself things I enjoy. I don’t need to tell anyone that 2020 has been an absolute horror show, but for me certain things have made it a horror show with a cherry on top. Not a lot gets me excited right now because we’re living in the worst fucking timeline, so when I find something that makes me feel positive emotions for a hot second I want to hang onto it. I have no desire to set aside that spark of happiness in a traumatic world because people on the Internet think it makes me selfish. Maybe it does, but I’m willing to let myself be a bit selfish right now.

Which circles back to this issue of equating buying a game with active harm towards the trans community. It honestly worries me because this is a very, very easy way to avoid the harder, messier activism that will actually help the queer community. When someone says things like, “You’re choosing a stupid video game over trans lives” that activism is performative. Not only—as demonstrated above—is purchasing a game not a threat to trans lives or ignoring the game a way of protecting trans lives, it also gives people an incredibly easy out while still seeming ‘woke.’ Not all people. Maybe not even a significant portion of people, but enough people to be worrisome. “I’m not purchasing that game,” some people post and then that’s it. That’s all they do, yet they feel like they’ve done their duty when in fact they’ve made no active difference in the world. Are you donating to trans charities? Are you speaking up for your trans friends when someone accosts them? Are you circulating media by trans authors? Are you educating your family about trans issues? Are you listening to trans individuals and continually trying to educate yourself? These are the things that make a difference, not shaming others for buying a game.

All of this is not meant to be an argument that people shouldn’t be absolutely revolted by Rowling’s beliefs (they should) and that this revulsion can’t take the form of rejecting this game wholeheartedly. This isn’t even meant to be an argument that you shouldn’t encourage others to boycott because though the financial impact may be negligible, the emotional impact for you is very real. I 100% support anyone who wants to chuck this game into the trash and never talk about it again—for any reason. All this is meant to argue is that people shouldn’t judge others based on whether they purchase this game (with a side argument that we can’t limit our activism to that shaming). That’s their decision and this decision, significantly, does not add any real harm to the world. Your fellow Harry Potter fan is not the enemy here. We as a community should not be turning our visceral on one another. Turn it on Rowling. She’s the TERF, not the individual who, for whatever reason, decided they wanted to play the game only tangentially related to her.

If Twitter and Tumblr are any indication, I can imagine the sort of responses this post may generate: “That’s a whole lot of talk to try and convince us you’re not a transphobe :/ ” For those of you who are determined to simply things to that extent, there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind. Please re-read the disclaimer and consider whether yelling at me over anon will benefit the trans community. For those of you who are still here, I do legitimately want us to think critically about the kinds of activism we’re engaging in, how performative it might be, whether it harms the community in any way, and (most significantly) whether it’s actually moving us towards a safe, respective world for trans people to live in. Personally, I don’t think telling Harry Potter fans that they’re transphobic for buying Legacy will generate any good in this world, for them or for the trans community.

At the end of the day only you can decide whether you can stomach buying this game or not. Decide that for yourself, but make that decision knowing that there’s no wrong answer here.

#harry potter #mymetas #Anonymous

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lifeonashelf · 3 years

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COLDPLAY

Let’s get this straight right off the bat: Coldplay is fucking terrible.

We all know this. Designating Coldplay as terrible isn’t a statement of personal opinion, it is an easily demonstrable fact. Just listen to them; Coldplay’s music proves the existence of Coldplay’s terribleness the same way that breathing proves the existence of oxygen. Surely, even the band’s staunchest supporters understand that their songs are pretentious, monotonous, and unimaginative—they’d kind of have to; I assume these people have listened to Coldplay, too. If you like music as superfluous as Coldplay’s, that’s totally fine. I’m not here to tell you that you shouldn’t, nor to convince you to stop listening to Coldplay (you can’t stop listening to them, anyway; no matter how hard you try to escape, wherever you go, Coldplay will find you). But they are unequivocally fucking awful, and I need to make that clear before we continue in case I end up saying anything courteous about them later. And, who knows? I may indeed find something positive to say about Coldplay—I mean, nothing comes to mind right now, but it’s going to take me a few hours to write this piece so it’s possible something will at some point.

Okay, so we’re all clear on Coldplay being fucking terrible, right? Great. But that isn’t the main reason I hate them. I appreciate plenty of terrible bands just as I appreciate plenty of terrible movies. Listening to a really shitty group is sort of like watching a cast of really shitty actors—though they clearly suck at what they do, there’s something oddly appealing about the charming naiveté they demonstrate by giving it the best go they can anyway.

For instance, since I was still filing most of my Warped Tour emo discs in my punk section when I began this venture, I never got around to writing about a band called Adair. If you’re not familiar with them, don’t worry about it; they only existed for a few years in the mid-aughts and their diminutive discography merely consists of a self-released EP and one full-length album, The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New. Sonically, Adair were so amusingly prototypical of every baby t-shirt screamo band that was thriving at the time, they essentially sounded like they were parodying the style of music they played (although, to be fair, a lot of those squads did). But, Adair were absolutely serious, regardless of what stridently nasal heights the vocals reached, regardless of how faithfully their compositions adhered to their genre’s textbook page by page, and regardless of the sublimely ridiculous realms some of their allegorical angst lamentations ventured into (the line “lock me up in Guantanamo Bay and throw away the key” from the song “I Buried My Heart In Cosmo Park” may very well be the lyrical apex of their entire genus).

Adair’s music is so inane that it makes me laugh out loud when I sing along to it—but here’s the thing: I do sing along to it. I have probably played The Destruction Of Everything Is The Beginning Of Something New a hundred times from start to finish since my copy was sent to me to review for some website back in 2006, and I have cued up individual high(low?)points like “The Diamond Ring” and “Folding and Unfolding” even more times than that. As silly as they sound—and trust me, they sound very fucking silly—I still sincerely enjoy their tunes and have spent enough hours listening to TDOEITBOSN for it to possibly qualify as one of my favorite records ever. Shit, even writing about it right now makes me feel like hearing the disc, so I’ll probably end up blasting it in my truck tomorrow (ed. note: I actually did). If they ever decided to do a reunion tour, I would absolutely go see them, and if vocalist Rob Tweedie did that whole “hold the microphone out toward the crowd so they can finish the lyric” thing which every frontman in every band that sounds like Adair does at least a dozen times per show, I would totally be able to fill in each of those blanks and enthusiastically do so.

Sorry, we were talking about Coldplay. To recap, they’re fucking terrible.

Unlike a frivolous whimper-core ensemble like Adair, the most off-putting thing about Coldplay isn’t their music. They’ve actually managed to excrete a few tracks that I grudgingly enjoy over the years. However, sporadically releasing songs which don’t sound like they were specifically written for Gap commercials actually works against Coldplay in this instance. Sure, most of their output is noxious twaddle, but since they occasionally come across as a marginally decent band, their work isn’t awful enough to at least ironically appreciate it for being awful.

In fact, there’s absolutely nothing ironic about Coldplay—other than U2 and Radiohead (more on them in a minute), I can’t think of another band that seems to take itself as dreadfully seriously as Coldplay does. There isn’t a single lighthearted number in their entire catalog, and the demeanor of their music is so staid and cheerless that it’s hard to imagine the dudes ever cracking a smile while they’re making it. Their approach to songwriting is rigidly Pavlovian—when the music gets louder, ring ring ring, that signals the listener the *really* poignant part of the tune has arrived and cues them to emotionally salivate in kind—yet despite their calculated use of sonic dynamics to manufacture sentiment, the vapid and unspontaneous nature of the delivery saps their tunes of anything resembling genuine soul or passion. Even when thrusting through the more energetic tracks in their litany, the musicians in Coldplay always sound like they’re actively striving to not play their instruments too hard. The result is that they consistently deliver some of the safest and least edgy rock ever created, shaping their ethos around a formula so willfully tepid and cuddly that they barely qualify as a rock band at all. Coldplay aren’t quite the musical equivalent of plain yogurt (that would be Jack Johnson, an artist so comprehensively flavorless that even his name is fucking boring) but the granola in their mixture is always judiciously distributed so as not to agitate anyone’s tastebuds.

And at the center of this slow-motion kaleidoscope, you have Chris fucking Martin (I find it difficult to cite his name without including the “fucking” in there; he’s just one of those guys—like Jason fucking Mraz, Blake fucking Shelton, or fucking Bono). Coldplay’s music may be stagnant, but you’d never know it from beholding the practiced arsenal of slinky paroxysms their vocalist bursts into while that music is playing. In performance and in their videos, Martin’s appendages are incessantly in motion, his hands ever-swaying gently through the air like he’s waving a pair of invisible cigarette lighters or finger painting on the goddamn sky, ostensibly so deeply lost in his band’s reverie of sound that he simply can’t help himself from moving his body in a cadenced pantomime of the way their music is meant to superficially move your spirit.

For the three non-ballads the group has written in their career, Chris usually switches things up by crouching in an incongruous bobbing panther-stance like a battle rapper delivering a diss track about fucking his opponent’s mama in the mouth, until it’s time to freeze in the tried and true messiah-statue pose as the number’s final notes chime into the ether. But it is in the quiet moments when Martin truly shines—which makes perfect sense given that he’s the leader of a group so systematically anodyne they probably should have actually named themselves Quiet Moments. These are the obligatory interims where the frontman takes the stage on his own to sit down at the piano, resplendent in the spotlight, and perform an intimate solo rendition of one of his most tender hits to show everyone in the audience that Chris fucking Martin is a bonafide fucking musician who, if he really felt like it, could totally do the whole Coldplay thing without the other three dudes whose names no one knows. His soaring falsetto croon is custom-feigned for the arenas the band was destined to coldplay from the moment they dropped their breakthrough single “Yellow” and caused a nation of book-sensitive sociology majors eagerly anticipating the arrival of their generation’s U2 to cream their Dockers in unison. When Martin opens his pipes to summon those indelibly contrived choruses about birds and stars and other monosyllabic nouns, it hardly even matters what words he’s singing—the leitmotifs in most of the tunes are basically interchangeable anyway. What matters is that Chris sounds like he really, really, really means it when he says he will try to fix you.

That analysis probably makes it seem like I hate Chris fucking Martin as much as I hate his band. I actually don’t—he’s too benign a character to elicit such a fervid response; hating Chris Martin is like hating turtleneck sweaters, or actual turtles. In fact, I suspect he’s probably a really nice dude. At least, I’ve never heard any creepy stories about him showing his penis to under-aged fans on Skype or anything like that.

Regardless, while I don’t specifically despise either Martin, Dude Who Plays Guitar, or the other two anonymous members of Coldplay, I do gauge their collective as the fourth or fifth worst band of all time. And the reason I loathe them more than any of their neighbors on that list is because they aren’t the kind of prodigiously abysmal group you can just ignore until their moment in the spotlight inevitably passes—which is how I dealt with Five For Fighting from September 2001 through February 2002 and how I’ve been dealing with Twenty-One Pilots for the last four years (seriously, are you fuckers done yet?). Coldplay is a far cagier nuisance because they are massively popular and have been for a ludicrously long time. I’ve been patiently waiting for them to go away for two decades now, yet they continue to pop up every third summer or so to drop a new album and remind us that, yes, they’re still here assiduously mining the middle of the road for new ways to write more tunes about clouds being pretty.

Even worse, I can’t disregard their music because it’s everywhere. I hear “The Scientist” while I’m shopping for cereal at the grocery store, I hear “Talk” when I sit down to eat at any chain restaurant, and I imagine I’ll be viewing that idiotic video for “Adventure of a Lifetime” with the posse of animated dancing monkeys on an infinite Clockwork-Orange-eyes-gaping loop for the rest of eternity when my mortal essence exits this world and I am cast into the fiery pits of Hell. I can’t even watch football without encountering Coldplay, as I discovered with horror in 2016 when they took part in the most fatuous jumbled fucking mess of a Super Bowl halftime show the NFL had ever presented (a zenith of suckery which seemed impossible to eclipse until this past February, when Adam Levine showed up covered with prison tattoos and said, “hold my beer”).

The pervasive level of esteem Coldplay has reached dumbfounds me. This is a group that has sold millions and millions of albums worldwide, even though I have never once heard a single person utter the phrase, “man, that new Coldplay song kicks ass.” I’m sure their most dedicated fans have favorite hits, tracks that are significant to them in some way, etc. But their remarkable success is patently disproportionate to how patently unremarkable the work which garnered that success really is. Nobody ever describes the band’s music as “awesome”, just as nobody ever describes a glass of pinot gris as awesome—the term simply does not apply to their province; actually, in this case, describing the mouthfeel of Coldplay tunes and recommending cheeses they best pair with is probably more relevant than discussing how they sound. Coldplay is as universally popular as they are precisely because they aren’t awesome. They’re not beloved because they’re extraordinary; most people love them because they’re innocuous, functional, and suitable for almost any occasion—Coldplay is akin to a pair of cargo shorts, and no one thinks cargo shorts kick ass. Coldplay isn’t an alternative band (on the contrary, almost every good band is an alternative to Coldplay); they are a lowest common denominator band, undemanding and ubiquitous and safe to like because everyone else likes them. Their work is specifically geared toward people who think appreciating music demonstrates sophistication, but don’t ultimately give enough of a shit about the artform to put any effort into finding music that is actually sophisticated or appreciable. You may assume Coldplay is erudite because they’re British and they cite books you’ve never read when discussing the lyrical themes in their work, but they’re merely recycling the same emotional territory as every other pop act that writes tunes about finding love, losing love, missing love, and the 18th Century French peasantry.

The best thing about being a Coldplay fan is that it’s easy. You don’t have to buy their records, go see them live, or make any concerted effort at all to receive their music. If you listen to the radio for any extended period of time (or eat at an Applebee’s), you will eventually hear one of their songs; all you have to do is not hate it and, voila, you’re officially a Coldplay fan. There, don’t you just love the security of venerating a critically and commercially acclaimed band that will never challenge you or be unpopular?

Okay, I do strive to be fair—even in this arena where I can say whatever I want and no one can argue with me. I gave this a lot of thought, so here are four things about Coldplay that are not terrible:

1) “Clocks”: I resisted it for many years, but I finally had to concede that it’s kind of a pretty song. Notes of red currant and blackberries, and it goes superbly with a nice aged brie.

2) “God Put A Smile On Your Face”: It doesn’t put a smile on mine, but that’s why I enjoy it. Most Coldplay songs sound like they’re aiming to evoke what being hugged by a koala bear feels like, so I appreciate Chris fucking Martin delivering a darker number that seems intent on making me feel depressed instead. Well played, sir.

3) Viva La Vida, Or Death And All His Friends: I sincerely respect their effort to broaden their palate a bit by working with Brian Eno and making Dude Who Plays Guitar buy a distortion pedal to use on one song. This is still an archetypal shitty Coldplay record, but at least it sounds a little different than all of the other archetypal shitty Coldplay records.

4) Nah. They’re still fucking terrible; they were lucky to get three things.

There is one additional facet of the group’s career which has fascinated me over these past several years, even though it relates more to bands that are not Coldplay rather than the band that is Coldplay. Earlier I dubbed them the U2 of their generation, and recent events in particular have coalesced to underscore that comparison. See, when Coldplay came out, the tributes to their Irish brethren in choreographed affectation were far from subtle. Chris fucking Martin’s warbling was plainly modeled after fucking Bono’s, Dude Who Plays Guitar served up an endless cycle of repetitive but hooky high-register licks that were striking similar to the distinctive methodology of The Edge, and both bands’ workmanlike rhythm sections held things down with competent yet discreet backing tracks which militantly fulfilled each song’s basic requirements rather than showcasing the musicians’ dexterity. I don’t think anyone ever disputed the collective homage in Coldplay’s dogma, and no one was terribly bothered by it either; at the time there were a lot of people craving a band that sounded just like U2, because U2 didn’t sound like U2 anymore.

When Coldplay’s debut album Parachutes was released in July 2000, fucking Bono and company’s career was on a downward arc after they largely vacated their signature approach to instead craft a couple poorly-received discs dominated by insipid rave-lite tunes that not even the members of U2 listen to anymore. Though they would temporarily rebound later that year with “Beautiful Day”, the last honestly excellent song they would ever record, U2 had left a gap that needed filling. And the most obvious inheritors of their kingdom, Radiohead, had grown tired of anthemic guitar rock; they were hunkered down creating their demanding but exceptional opus Kid A, which sounded nothing like U2, nothing like Radiohead, and indeed nothing like any other music being made on planet Earth. Kid A still had some anthems, still had some guitar, and still had a little rock, but its oblique delivery clearly demonstrated that Radiohead was chasing a far different muse and had little interest in claiming the crown (of course, this would be abundantly clarified in hindsight when they subsequently slid further down their rabbit-hole, gradually abandoning the anthems and guitars and rock altogether, until finally settling upon their current songwriting formula, which seems to mostly involve Thom Yorke masturbating on his laptop, naming ten of his climaxes, and calling it an album).

So while U2 were busy trying to figure out why they weren’t relevant anymore and Radiohead were busy doing whatever the fuck they were doing, the lads in Coldplay stepped up and said, hey, why not us? They seized the ersatz-earnest arena rock mantle with A Rush Of Blood To The Head and never looked back. Now, 17 years and seven multi-platinum albums later, they can ruin the Super Bowl, collaborate with the Chainsmokers, and even make the same kind of lameass dance music that essentially buried U2’s career with impunity. Even more significant, they have come full circle. A group that started out playing second-rate U2 facsimiles under the moniker Pectoralz (this is absolutely true, by the way) is now one of the hugest pop institutions in the universe, beloved by millions of music and wine connoisseurs across the globe. And the student has eclipsed the teacher; U2’s desperate efforts to play catchup have made their modern work sound unmistakably like second-rate Coldplay facsimiles. Chris fucking Martin and those other three guys are no longer pretenders to the throne—they are Coldplay, and this is their empire now, bitches.

These days, U2 has to reprise their old records in their entirety on nostalgia tours to get anyone to come to their concerts, and Radiohead continues to release unlistenable albums which their fans claim to love while sheepishly casting them aside to listen to OK Computer for the thousandth time instead. But Coldplay has strategically situated themselves for an eternity as the undisputed emperors of rock mediocrity. I think they’ve got another two decades in them, too; I have no doubt that long after Twenty-One Pilots is (finally) relegated to the county fair circuit where they belong, Chris fucking Martin will still be promising sold-out crowds that lights will lead them home and having a series of polite, gently-articulated seizures while he sings “Speed Of Sound”.

It seems I respect Coldplay a little more than I suspected. You know what? I’m going to amend my original valuation right here and now. As of this moment, I am formally designating Coldplay the sixth worst band of all time.

Your move, Godsmack.

May 15, 2019

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #292

“dear god, let’s make this fucking clear: dear god, there’s nothing that i fear”

What internet browser do you use? Chrome. What brand water do you drink? (Smart Water, Dasani, etc) Mom just grabs the Great Value jugs. Do you have a job? No. Are you full-time or part-time? N/A Are you watching TV right now? No. Or are you listening to music? Yeah, "Mr. Crowley" by Ozzy. Such a great song. Would you go to jail for 3 years for $1,000,000? No. I would NOT survive in jail. When's your birthday? February 5th. I cannot fucking believe I'm almost 25. Thoughts on kids? Too impressionable for me. Even with my niece and nephew, I feel like every single word I say just like... stamps into their brains, and what if I say something that negatively affects them? I feel like it's my responsibility as an aunt to be a fountain of wisdom when I'm definitely not. I just get nervous around kids. Worst punishment you've ever received by your parents? I wouldn't call it a "punishment," but when I skinned the everliving fuck out of my knees and Mom was patching me up while I was just sobbing away, my dad literally roared "SHUT UP!" from my parents' bedroom, and it's stuck with me forever. Honestly, I think it may be a root in my extreme fear of men yelling. Worst punishment from Mom, probably this time where she smacked the shit outta my arm as a kid and left a clear handprint for a while. Are you the type who is completely against abortion? Why? No, I am firmly pro-choice, despite being pro-life most of my life. I don't feel like writing a moral essay, but basically, I absolutely cannot agree with forcing a woman to carry a human they don't want for whatever reason for nine fucking months, endure one of the most traumatically painful things known to man, and then properly and adequately care for that child. That is such a huge fucking responsibility that should be forced upon *nobody*. "But adoption!" Yeah, go tell that to the thousands of children waiting on you. This is leaning on exactly what I said I wouldn't do, so moving along. Have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? "I’ve read some books that were phenomenal, but I wouldn’t necessarily go so far as to say that they 'changed my outlook on life'." <<<< This was Johnny Got His Gun for me. Does your favorite flower hold any meaning to you? No. What would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? I would fucking freak. Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No, but I honestly do want at least one, primarily with a deep black and then some nice grays and neutral colors. Do you own a tripod for your camera? Yes. Are your nails always painted? Quite the opposite. What's one thing you've had a toxic reaction to? A breakup. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? I honestly don't really decorate because I just don't have the motivation, but Halloween is the best. Were you popular in school? Nope. Are there any foods that often give you heartburn or indigestion? BANANAS, dark sodas (like Coke or Dr. Pepper), peanut butter can... It's hard for me to tell much now because I have chronic heartburn and am medicated for it. Works great, so I don't experience this much. Is there something you intend to buy in the near future? Yes. Once my tattoo is done (I'm setting the appointment the next time we leave the house, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), what I have left is going towards Venus' new terrarium. She really needs a 40 gallon. Is anyone in your family artistically talented? What about musically? I was the art kid, and family still insist I should be an artist. What cute behaviors or characteristics does/do your pet(s) have? Omg, Roman has so many. He nuzzles me all the time, will collapse into my hand to pet him, he insists on being the little spoon at bedtime (no, really), he literally tries to groom me with his teeth, licks my face... He is just a doll. My little buddy for sure. Now onto Venus. She loves to chill next to me in bed or find a cozy place under the covers, and omgggg does she love to slither around the bed doing the periscope thing. So curious. What's the screensaver on your computer? I don't have one. What’s the sexiest thing about a guy? I am WEAK for nice shoulderblades/muscular shoulders ok. What’s the sexiest thing about a girl? I am an ass bitch and I will not hesitate to admit it ayyyyyeeeee. Who were you with at midnight on January 1, 2021? Nobody. Who was the last person to send you a message on social media? My sister Misty. She's planning to surprise Mom (her stepmom, anyway) by showing up in a few weeks with her fiance and all her kids she's never met but desperately wants to. My mom is the only "real mom" she's ever had, and she just feels so bad that she has a by now teenage daughter (among three other younger ones) that has never met her "grandmother." It's just an expensive and long trip, but Misty's finally called it enough and is just driving down here with everyone. Mom is going to fucking sob. ^ What qualities does this person have, that you appreciate? Nice timing for this, since her fiercely anti-mask bullshit is all I can focus on about her lately... but there are good things about her. She truly is a very loving, passionate woman that, just like me, feels deeply and expresses it. What was the last thing that caused you to scowl, or frown? Does grimacing count from a sudden bodily pain? Have you smiled at any point during the last hour? Yeah. I'm watching the VOD of Arin Hanson playing Kingdom Hearts 2 for charity, and he went on a total fucking laughing fit. His laugh is so precious, so I just couldn't stop grinning. What was the last thing you consulted Google for? Ensuring "grimace" was the right word for my former expression, even though I was pretty positive it was correct... I don't know if anyone's noticed, but my English skills are degrading, particularly in spelling. It's concerning me. I was an English whiz my whole life up to now. My only guess is it's related to how godawful my memory is also declining. So, did anyone send you a "Happy New Year" message when midnight hit? No. When was the last time you were on a carousel? Probably not since I was a teenager being goofy with Jason or somebody. What is the closest you have ever been to an elephant? I have a picture on my dA of a beautiful elephant walking RIGHT by its fence at the zoo. It was pretty amazing, considering just how incredibly immense their enclosure is. Have you ever played Halo? No, it's not my kinda game. Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine? Oh, I'm positive I've read sections while in waiting rooms of various places. When was the last time you had a pillow fight? I have no idea. Realistically it was probably w/ Jason since that sounds like some cute playfighting thing we'd do, but I don't remember a particular instance. Name somebody who you think deserves more respect: "Retail works. The horror stories my mom has on the daily is absolutely ridiculous. People can be so incredibly rude." <<<< I absolutely agree with this; what friends and strangers alike rant about is just depressing. Nobody, especially those working through a goddamn pandemic that's killing thousands, deserves the disrespect that comes their way. Have some goddamn decency and know half the issues you bring up to retail workers isn't even their damn fault. Ohhhh, I could rant about this. In your own words, define what the word sexy means. So you mean like, what I think is considered sexy, not just the general definition? If that's the case, uhhh. Self-confidence (but absolutely not arrogance) is very attractive to me as a bitch who lacks it entirely, as well as good manners, being outgoing, and just... charm. I don't quite know how to describe that "charm" other than I'm really drawn to people who are unique and happy with it and just seem to have an aura about them that feels good to be in. What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live? I'm going to look at this question as if you're asking about my state and not general location because 1.) there ain't shit here and 2.) I'd prefer to keep relatively where I live quiet on the Internet. Looked it up and apparently NC's biggest tourist bait is the Biltmore Estate. Never been there myself, but it'd be pretty dope. Without looking - do you know what brand your underwear is? I'm in my own home and pjs, who the fuck wears underwear with that criteria lmao. Are you any good at volleyball? NOOOOOOOOO. I went to a volleyball camp thing once when I was younger and that shit hurts the hell outta your hands. I didn't stay long. Have you ever had a water balloon fight? Why of course. Do you think some babies are ugly? Quite honestly, probably most, especially newborns. Don’t you miss Chuck E. Cheese? I do; going there was one of the most exciting possible things to me as a kiddo. Do you think Fall Out Boy is gonna be a classic band, like Queen or AC/DC? Possibly. I mean they sure are pretty successful and well-known. Do you love stuff-crusted pizza? Eh, it's not my preference, but I'll eat it. Do you apply lotion after you bathe? No, but I really should, given how dry my skin is. What’s your favorite color? Pastel pink. Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? I'd like to not think about this. Has a YouTube video of yours ever gotten over 10,000 views? Lol definitely not. I think at least one on my older channel hit 1k somehow???? It was a birthday gift I made for someone. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? lol I already have one there. At some point I'm getting it covered, though. Do you like Robert Frost poems? I do! Do you go to church every Sunday? I never do. Have you ever been in a relationship on-and-off for more than a year? No, I don't play that game. You want me or you don't, so I'm not wasting my time on your uncertainty or just our lack of stability for whatever reason. If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Absolutely writing. What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? ?????????????????? i don't?????????????? care???????????????? they're not my tits??????????????? What is the last thing you tried on in a store? I don't know. I avoid trying shit on like the plague. And then it ends up being too big/small. I wonder why. Is sleeping naked more comfortable than in clothes? I've only ever fallen asleep naked once, and accidentally at that, so I really don't remember how I felt about it? Consciously though, I would feel very, very vulnerable so don't have plans to when I have my own place. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? HAHAHA Y'AAAAAALLLLLLL THIS WAS DEADASS THE ONLY LUCID DREAM I'VE EVER HAD LMAOOOOO Do you feel as though you have a good memory, or are you forgetful at times? Do you feel that your short-term memory or long-term memory is better? My short-term memory is absolutely atrocious, like to the point it seriously affects my ability to get shit done. You can give me something that needs to be done and I will forget in a heartbeat. Now, my long-term memory is astonishing. I can remember many things from my childhood in incredible detail. Have you ever had a concussion or some other sort of brain injury before? Did you need to have surgery for it? I've had a concussion or two. I can't remember which. I didn't need surgery. Do you have any sort of mental illnesses or disorders? What do they involve? Yeah: chronic depression, crippling social anxiety, generalized anxiety, avoidant personality disorder (AvPD), obsessive compulsive disorder, PTSD, bipolar II, and I think that's it. My head's a mess and a half. What’s the longest that your hair has ever been? How about the shortest? When is the last time that you got it cut? About to the small of my back; how it is now, which is pretty much shaved on the left and fades to near my chin on the right. I actually got it cut last month; we've gone to a family friend for years whose shop is just an extra building by her house and very rarely has more than two clients in it. We had masks on, of course. At what age did you start getting gray hairs, if you happen to have any? I don't have any. Somehow, given my stress level at all times, haha. What are some ways that you style your hair? Do you use any sorts of products in it? It's too short to style. I don't use any products in it but obviously shampoo. Who was the last person to truly get on your nerves? What do you think caused you to feel that way? Probably my mom. I think she was in a rotten mood for one reason or another and just being snappy and generally rude. Do you recycle? Is this through choice or do you live somewhere where it’s compulsory? We do; it's by choice, and it'd be immensely ignorant not to where we live considering it literally gets picked up with the other garbage. Do you prefer plain, carbonated, or flavored water? Do you think you drink enough water throughout the day? I've never tried carbonated water, and flavored water rarely works for me due to artificial sweeteners giving me beastly headaches. So I'll just take really cold, filtered water. Have you ever needed to call the police, ambulance, or fire department? I had to call the ambulance for my mom right before her cancer was discovered because she was literally immobile and in ungodly pain. When was the last time you visited the library? What was the purpose of your visit? At my old college, as the newspaper photographer, I took some artsy pics up there. I will probably forever worry that leaving school resulted in the biggest career opportunity slipping through my fingers through that newspaper. Do you see a lot of wild animals where you live? Are any of them dangerous? I guess about the normal amount you'd see in the country. Some dangerous animals live here, sure, that's probably everywhere, but you very rarely see any. Aside from when you were born, have you ever had to stay the night in the hospital? For suicidal thoughts and one attempt, yes. Have you ever experienced a panic attack? Ahhhh, do I know those well. Thankfully, it's been a long time since I had an all-out panic attack. Would you ever want to go into the medical profession? Was your answer different pre-COVID? Nope. Well, besides being a vet, which I haven't wanted to be since I was a kid. Where you live, are people paying attention to whatever restrictions are in place to help control COVID? Many? No. Because it's apparently a fuckin hoax or not as bad as the government wants us to think. Fucking cretins. Do you get a real or artificial Christmas tree? Artificial. Real ones aren't worth the money nor mess. What’s your favourite type/flavor of popcorn? Caramel corn. Do you drink oat milk? No, but I'm interested in at least trying it. The dairy industry is absolutely repulsive if you look into it, and I'd love to do what I can to take as little part in it as possible... even though I am a dairy fiend. I seriously wish I could go vegan, I am just WAY too picky for it. Do you love thrifting? Oh fuck yes. I've been very few times in my life, but I'mm all about it. Do you consider using only lowercase letters your aesthetic? I do find it visually appealing; I like the flow of similar letter height. I never do it for "serious" things, but on places where it's "for the aesthetic," it's likely that's how I'll write something. Do you say “mood?” Way too much lmao. Do you own fairy lights? No, though I would like them if it wouldn't look stupid in my room. Do you own glass straws because the metal ones kind of gross you out because you can’t tell if they are clean or not? ... I didn't know glass straws were a thing. I have a handful of metal ones though, but I always forget I have one in my purse when I go out... Have you made a TikTok? No. Do you own airpods? No. Are you afraid of Mercury in retrograde? I don't believe in a planet's position or whatever having any effect on people. Do you make life choices based on astrology? Definitely not, considering I don't believe in it to begin with. How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? Maybe like, five? Number of jeans in your closet: Zero. What accent do you have? Not really any, but sometimes I sound kinda southern with specific words. Do you have a big butt? Yo I got a Hank Hill ass, so no. Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? In my past relationships, yes, I assigned our anniversary to memory. I don't really... know why, like it doesn't really matter how long you've been together, I just do. Have you graduated? From HS, yes. I dropped out of college three times lmao. Rihanna or Lady GaGa? Ohhh, not sure. Maybe GaGa, but both ladies have songs I love. "Disturbia" doess beat all of her songs, tho. The fuckin BEAT. Do you use fake eyelashes? Never tried 'em. Which was the last book that really captivated you? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. What makeup brands do you use? I'm not loyal to any, really. I would be if I could afford expensive shit, but yeah, that ain't my life.

#survey #surveys #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''battle cry'' by blood on the dance floor

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foxtophat · 4 years

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HEY I’M REALLY GOING TO TRY AND GET THIS POSTED IN ITS ENTIRETY BY SOMETIME THIS YEAR. SO here’s the beginning, where Nick is Kanye and John is that water bottle he’s now responsible for. no ships, no violence, just good old fashioned self-indulgent fix-it fic.

i love writing fix it fic, and i love the idea of john sitting in time out for 8 years, only to show back up in Nick and Kim’s life like a mangy street cat that just will not die. i wrote a lot of this from john’s pov, before i scrapped all of that and reworked it into this.

below the cut is the full text of the chapter, in case you don’t feel like going off-site. reblogs and likes mean the world to me!

2026

Nick isn't sure what to expect as he picks the trail out of the brush. That's sort of been the big theme of the apocalypse as he knows it. Between the super-bloom, the funky looking deer and the total decimation of everything he's ever known, Nick has been operating pretty exclusively on the fly. After eight years of monotony underground, the adventure is almost worth it, although he could do with some basic infrastructure like, you know, roads, gas, electricity, maybe a school so he and Kim don't have to be the ones to teach Carmina math and critical thinking and shit.

Either way, finding strange footprints in the woods is a pretty standard mystery, and Nick doesn't see why he shouldn't follow them. He doesn't even think to leave it alone — how could he? If there's somebody roughing it this close to home, Nick figures he might as well extend a friendly hand. Or at least make sure a crazy murder-hobo hasn't started lurking around the woods his daughter plays in. That's pretty unlikely , given the state of things, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

From all the games and movies Nick had digested growing up, he'd always figured that the nuclear wasteland would be either entirely uninhabited or infested with a population of power-hungry raiders looking to destroy everything in their wake. So far, though, most of the people he's come across have been pretty friendly. Wary as fuck, not really willing to share and definitely not interested in sticking around for long, but nobody's pulled a gun on the Ryes and their hospitality. As bad as Nick had thought living in the bunker had been, it's clear that surviving above ground had been much, much worse, and those who made it this far aren't in the habit of shooting generosity outright.

That's mostly what he's expecting as he follows the bootprints dug into the dirt. Strangers trying to get by in the lushness of Hope County, maybe people whose names he knows. Maybe even old friends who haven't reappeared yet. He expects a small camp, expects maybe he's going to have to negotiate with some new neighbors to keep the peace. There's plenty of land here for everyone, after all, and Nick isn't opposed to some friendly faces to rely on in hard times.

But Nick's luck has never worked out the way he expects it to. Instead of another family, a possible friend or even just a days-old campsite from some wanderer, Nick almost walks himself into an open bunker. He catches himself at the edge of the hatch, staring down into the darkness at the bottom of the ladder. It smells fucking terrible, like something up and shit itself to death down there, and now Nick is pretty sure he's going to find yet another goddamn corpse.

"Uh, hello?" Nick calls, unable to help himself. "Anybody... down there?"

There's no response.

Nick looks around, but the overgrowth is too thick here for him to keep following the tracks. Goddamn — falling to your death after surviving the nuclear holocaust? What a way to go.

It's only on his second look around that Nick catches sight of a scrap of yellow between the trees further ahead. It looks like fabric that's been stretched out over a branch, and as Nick approaches he starts to recognize it as nylon. Like a parachute, maybe? Shit, even if nobody's here, they could use that kind of sturdy fabric.

The parachute's in tatters, dragged through sharp tree-branches and the apocalypse alike. It's sort of like a... lean-to, maybe? Nick's not sure; whoever threw together this campsite was relying on instinct to build a decent shelter, not skill. There's a fire-pit in front of him that looks like it hasn't been burning for days now, and a crate of miscellaneous components, likely scavenged from wherever this parachute came from.

Nick goes to take the fabric down — one man's trash, right? — but he finds himself stopping cold as he catches sight of a corpse huddled under the lean-to. Jesus Christ , and here he was about to scrap the whole place! Talk about disrespectful! From the look of it, the guy who had camped out here must've starved to death — curled nearly fetal, visibly malnourished even fully clothed. Between the thick beard and the wild mane of brown hair, Nick can't see the body's face; all he can make out is a heavily scarred mess near where the guy's ear should be. It looks like it got melted off. Or maybe blasted off.

The body moves . The noise that accompanies it is something like a hiss, air wheezing sharply through tightly clenched teeth.

"Holy shit ," Nick gasps, dancing backwards in momentary terror before getting a fucking grip on himself. "Holy shit, buddy, you're alive ?"

In response, the corpse shudders like it's trying to rise, managing to twist enough in its spot that Nick can now make out a face to go with the rest of the body. There's something strikingly familiar about the bloodshot, glassy blue eyes, the thick beard, the tangled mass of brown hair...

The arm that had been hidden under the body has the sleeve rolled up to the elbow, and Nick can clearly make out ritualistic scars cross-hatched over tattoos that have faded after so long without any touch-ups. Nick stares uncomprehendingly at the damage, unable to think of a single person capable of so much torturous work. The hand curled in the dirt underneath has shiny scars over one of the knuckles, but Nick still recognizes the word EDEN even missing most of the N .

Nick's whole body jolts with a white-hot rush of terror. " Jesus, Christ! " he shouts, jerking away as if expecting a real bomb to drop on him.

It's John goddamn fucking Seed !

Nick raises his rifle before he's processed the situation, finger on the trigger and barrel pointed down at the body slumped in front of him. He almost pulls the trigger, too, wants to pull the trigger, but John is just lying there. He isn't moving, he's barely breathing, and Nick... he can't do it. God, he knows he should — but it's been eight years since he's had to shoot another human being. He doesn't want to break that streak, not even if John barely counts as human.

John smells like shit and looks like a goddamn murder-hobo. Coming close again, Nick can hear his breath rattling in his lungs. It isn't until Nick has the barrel of his rifle almost touching John's chest that the man's eyes drift towards the gun; even then, it doesn't look like he recognizes the danger he's in.

"Holy goddamn," Nick says, unable to help himself, "You look like shit ."

The noise John makes in return could be called a laugh, if Nick were feeling particularly charitable, but it's closer to a tired hiss. It flips his stomach, instincts deeper than reason keeping him glued to the spot while he slowly lowers his gun.

Shit. Shit! He would be doing the world a favor, eradicating this goddamn beast. This is the fucking monster who'd terrorized his family, tried to force him from his home, tortured him — he still carries the dark, thick band of a scar from where John literally fucking flayed him! This county spent years being subtly and then overtly terrorized by this shit and his family, and a quick execution is more than he deserves!

John is barely more than a corpse as it is. He was never meant to make it this long, and his survival is a testament to how little God cares about this miserable planet. Nick would be doing everyone a favor.

Nick listens to him wheeze, something rattling deep in his chest, and finds himself lowering the barrel, finger reluctantly pulling away from the trigger.

He calls himself all sorts of names as he moves into the shelter. Mostly, "Fuckin' idiot, goddamn fool," which doesn't stop him from acting like one at all but at least it makes him feel better.

John doesn't react as Nick crouches beside him; the most he does is close his eyes and try not to throw up as Nick struggles to prop him up. He struggles to swallow, gulping thickly against his dry throat. Nick pulls his canteen off of his belt and pushes it into John's shaking hands, but it's only when he helps bring it to his mouth that John actually drinks any water. He clutches at the metal and drinks desperately, greedily, and it makes Nick so fucking angry to see his relief that he rips the canteen away before John can get his fill. The guilt he feels immediately after is worse than the anger by leagues, but he's got no way to process that shit right now, so he'll stick with the more understandable outrage.

"I've got every right to leave you for the fuckin' wolves," he grunts, shoving the canteen back into John's hands. "I'd be doing the world a favor if I shot you right here myself."

Nick doesn't expect John's delirious nod in response. He doesn't know what to do with it. John Seed has too much goddamn pride to accept a miserable end like this. He's a self-centered narcissist who probably expected the whole cult thing to blow over in court — how can he lie here like a skeleton and let Nick talk about putting him down like a dog?

"Every fucking right," Nick repeats helplessly as the choice vanishes in front of him. John gasps as he pulls away from the canteen, swallowing thickly several times. He looks like he wants to speak, but he can't find the words. Well, good . At least something's going right in this post-apocalyptic nightmare.

Nick can't leave him here to die. He wants to, but the idea makes him sick to his stomach. The only person he can think of that might be able to stand dealing with this better than him is Kim, but... God, what's she gonna do to him if he shows up dragging this sack of shit with him? He's pretty sure divorce in the wasteland involves buckshot and an unmarked grave.

"Okay," Nick sighs at last, "On your feet."

Ordering him doesn't do much, considering John doesn't seem fully aware of his surroundings, but it makes Nick feel better that he tried before resorting to helping him.

John can barely hold himself up. He keeps his legs under him, but even while he's leaning heavily on Nick, his gait is toddler-wobbly and his knees keep buckling. He breathes hard through his nose and gets pretty green around the gills as they march on, but he doesn't complain. Honestly, the most unnerving thing about the situation is how John says nothing . Nick remembers listening to the guy ramble for hours over the deputy's radio, just wishing he would shut up. Now, Nick finds himself trying to fill that same silence while wishing John would just contribute to the conversation.

"This - none of this means I'm helping you ," Nick explains to the silence in frustration. "I just - don't think you're worth wasting bullets over. That's all." It's definitely not a good explanation, but John probably isn't coherent enough to notice. Thankfully, that means he won't notice as Nick works out the problem aloud. Nick's always preferred talking his thoughts out - it's easier than trying to listen to them being just thought . "And anyway... I can't risk you gettin' better out there by yourself and... running around, meeting back up with your whackjob followers, any of that! So I couldn't leave you there, either. Can't have... fuckin' cult shit in the apocalypse... Not gonna happen, not on my watch."

John grunts, but Nick isn't sure if it's in response or just because he tripped over a rock.

"So... Yeah, sure, I'm takin' you home, but it's only because somebody needed to keep an eye on you," Nick finishes. The excuse does... well, it doesn't do much to paper over the guilty empathy Nick had felt finding John in such a way, but it'll at least get Kim off his back for a couple of minutes until he can come up with something more convincing.

"Damn it, Kim is gonna murder me," Nick realizes aloud as he finally catches sight of the house through the trees. John grunts again, this time definitely in response, and Nick imagines a normal, healthy John Seed would be throwing a sarcastic quip in his face. Probably something kind of lewd and predatory about the state of their marriage. The image manages to make John's silence more palatable, anyway.

Father of the year that he is, Nick only pauses to consider Carmina when he's nearly at the door. She's only eight years old, and she doesn't know anything about the cult. If he isn't careful, this whole thing could blow up in his face. He could wind up getting his own daughter indoctrinated in an old-timey psycho cult! All because he couldn't stomach killing this jackass? Is that really what he wants?

Well, he has some time before Grace comes back with her — hopefully Kim will have shot John before then. ...Shit, hopefully she shoots John, and not him, too .

He's gotta bite the bullet one way or another, and so he drags John in through the front door. It's like a bandaid; you just gotta rip it off and deal with the consequences.

"Oh my God," Kim says as he stops by the door, eager to not be touching John any longer than necessary. "What happened?" Nick turns to prop John up against the doorframe, reluctant to meet Kim's face. She must see something that gives John away — maybe his tattoos, or his eyes — because she stops halfway across the dirt-encrusted floorboards and sucks in a horrified breath. "Is that John Seed ?" Kim shouts, "Nick, what are you doing ?!"

Panic flashes across John's face as he half-slips out of Nick's grasp, but he's got the wall right behind him. "Easy," Nick mutters, bracing John's shoulder until he recognizes the support at his back. The relief on his face is hard to look at, but Nick's not sure Kim is gonna be much better.

" No ," Kim shouts. "Nick, are you crazy ?!"

"Kim, c'mon," Nick replies, turning at last, "Hear me out."

"I'm not hearing you out ," Kim hisses. "The fact that you brought him here instead of putting a bullet-! "

She cuts herself off, stalking back into the kitchen. Now Nick is desperate to watch her face, but of course she keeps her back turned to him, even as he chases after her. He gets close enough to rest his hands on her hips, which he does almost out of instinct — she tenses, but at least she lets him keep his hands.

He opens his mouth to repeat all the excuses he'd come up with, about not wanting to waste bullets and not wanting to risk another cult uprising, but to his horror, the only thing that comes out of him is the simple, guilty truth. "I couldn't do it," he whispers miserably. "I couldn't - Kim, I fuckin' hate the guy. If he could hold a gun, if he weren't - he wouldn't be here. I would have shot him dead. No regrets."

"That's what he deserves," Kim mutters. She drops one hand from the counter, resting it on top of Nick's, fingers wrapping around his palm.

"It is," Nick agrees, and he means it with all his heart. It's just... his heart is kind of soft, and it's put him in a sticky situation here. He admits with a tight, rasping voice, "I just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. And I couldn't leave him there. I mean... what if the cult found him?"

Kim sees through the excuse immediately, turning in his arms to stare him down with that skeptical squint of hers. At last, though, she sighs, taking both of his hands up in her own. "You're too soft," she tells him fondly. She's right, though. One of these days, his tenderhearted mercies are going to get them in a whole load of trouble. With John Seed slumped in his doorway, that trouble might have already come.

"I don't know what to do," Nick tells her, knowing he can rely on her to help him find direction again.

Focusing her attention on the figure slumped in the doorway, Kim eventually shakes her head. "It might be what he deserves, but we don't deserve it," she says at last. Nick can't help but feel relieved, even if it's a guilty kind of relief. "We'll have to find somewhere to put him. Somewhere Carmina can't find, or won't go."

There aren't a lot of places around the homestead that fit that description, but Nick agrees that keeping Carmina away is key. "I dunno, we could... put him in the bunker, maybe? Carmina hates it down there. She'd never bother looking..."

Behind him, John's breath hitches, and at last he finds his voice. "No," he rasps with a shredded voice, "Not that."

"You're not in a position to argue," Nick snaps over his shoulder.

Kim fixes her eyes on John, but Nick can't tell what she's thinking. He expects her to tell John to get fucked, even half-expects her to throw him in the hole herself. It's the least John deserves. But her stony frown cracks just a little, and Nick recognizes the same pity that started this whole mess.

"The..." She clears her throat and begins again, "The spare room has a lock on the door. It'll do for now."

Nick nods. "Okay," he says. "I'll... I'll dump him up there, and then..."

"And then we'll talk about how we're going to deal with him," she says.

It's going to be one hell of a conversation, but Nick is willing to lie in the bed he's made. He gives her hands a gentle squeeze before he pulls away, turning to regard John's collapsed form in the doorway.

"Okay, asshole," he grunts, although it doesn't seem like John catches the insult. When Nick picks him back up, he settles even more heavily on Nick's shoulders. Nick barely manages to make it up the stairs without dropping the dead weight hanging on to him.

There's not much in the spare room, aside from some boxes of sentimental trash and a rat-nest pile of potentially useful garbage. The room itself was going to be Carmina's nursery — it's pale yellow and blue colors have faded and cracked, and of course Carmina doesn't like any of it, anyway. She's more interested in learning how to shoot and sharing a room with her parents in case a pack of wild dogs comes through the area.

Nick puts John down on a folded tarp he's been meaning to use to rain-proof the roof. He looks just as corpse-like lying here as he did in the woods, but at least now Nick can pretend like he has control of the situation. He's gonna have to burn the clothes John's wearing, and probably give him a bucket to clean himself up with... Ugh. The logistics of keeping John hostage in the room don't make too much sense. It would be smarter to throw him in the bunker, where he would at least have his own bathroom. It would be even smarter to put him back in the woods where he found him.

"It'd be better for me if you croaked while I'm gone," Nick tells John. Still, he leaves his canteen with him before he goes; he's pretty sure he knows where the key is for the lock, but for now it's safe to say John isn't going to be staging a breakout any time soon.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh please i just need to get it out of my head

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rapuvdayear · 5 years

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2000: “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” 50 Cent (Trackmaster Ent./Columbia)

It’s been over a year since I teased the idea of doing a post about my favorite 50 Cent tracks, so I guess now is as good a time as ever to get around to it!

With the exception of maybe Kanye, I can’t think of another rapper with more raw talent whose career has been more disappointing. Obviously both Ye and Fiddy have been monstrously successful, but IMO they either burned brightly before descending into white supremacy apologia (Kanye) or never achieved their best possible trajectory (50). It’s not an accident to put them together in this way, either; just 12 years ago next month they faced off in what turned out to be a very underwhelming battle over whose album would sell better (this was back when album sales, not streaming numbers, still meant something). In many ways, it was a crossroads for each artist: Kanye dropped what I believe was his magnum opus, then followed it up with his fourth-best album, third-best album, and second-best album, before dropping off a cliff, while 50′s release basically removed him from the conversation about who was relevant in rap (“My Gun Go Off” and “I Get Money” are honorable mentions for the list below, but otherwise Curtis is entirely forgettable).

These days, 50 has gone the Ice Cube route and is probably more recognizable as an actor than as a rapper. So, it’s hard to remember that once upon a time he was the savior of gangsta rap and (co-)author of one of the 25 greatest albums of all time. He beat the odds to survive a shooting, link up with the two heaviest hitters (at the time) in the rap game, and even be included on some GOAT lists. He also essentially established the “flood the streets with mixtapes before your album drops” strategy of self-promotion that Gucci, Weezy, and even Drake would follow in the days before Soundcloud was the go-to resource for building a rep. He singlehandedly destroyed a rival’s career, launched a clothing line, video game, and music label, and made a halfway-decent biopic. And then... he just sort of petered out.

But! 50 is also responsible for some of my all-time favorite raps, which is why it’s so frustrating to me that he never lived up to the buzz surrounding him back in 2003. These are my five favorites, listed chronologically, with some commentary:

1) “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” (2000) Before the G-Unit days and before Eminem and Dre helped launch him to superstardom, Curtis Jackson was an up and coming rapper from Queens who had attracted the attention of another rap legend, Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay. A mutual friend introduced 19 year-old 50 to Jay back in 1996, and the veteran producer/DJ gave him a crash course in how to write songs and signed him to his fledgling label. The business relationship didn’t work out, but it helped lead 50 to Columbia Records’ Trackmasters imprint where he recorded Power of the Dollar in 1999. However, this debut album would never see the light of day after 50 was shot nine times while sitting in a friend’s car and subsequently dropped by Columbia. In the wake of the shooting--and then later, after 50 blew the fuck up in 2003--it became a sort of “lost cult classic” among rap fans. “How To Rob” got the most attention at the time, a funny-yet-vicious song demonstrating 50′s hunger through fantasies about sticking up famous rappers and R&B stars (the song was also clearly an homage to Biggie’s unreleased “Dreams,” and provoked an oblique diss from Ghostface). But “Ghetto Qu’ran” has had a more lasting impact, primarily because of how it was rumored to be the source of 50′s shooting, Jam Master Jay’s murder, and the Ja Rule/Murder Inc. beef. While all of that intrigue is important to rap lore, it distracts from the fact that it’s a near perfect rap song from a technical perspective: a catchy hook, a fantastic beat and sample, an effortless flow, and a well-crafted story that is equal parts celebration of the Queens underworld and subtle shots at street legends. Seriously, this is akin to what traveling bards used to do in medieval Europe, what poets in Ancient Greece wrote, what west African griots did/do, and what narcocorrido artists do now. If you want to learn about the Supreme Team, Pappy Mason, the Corley Family, and the Rich Porter/Alpo crew in Harlem, then this is a good place to start; as 50 puts it, “consider this the first chapter of the ghetto’s Qu’ran.” The secondary title to this track--“Forgive Me”--has a double meaning now. It was initially a plea to forgive 50 for the pain he caused in his criminal life but in retrospect an appeal to the figures whose names he drops. Also, it’s interesting to listen to this first and then compare 50′s voice with the next four tracks: this was recorded before the shooting, which left a bullet fragment lodged in his tongue that affected his speech and gave him his now-distinctive flow.

2) “Heat” (2003) There are several standouts on Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (“Many Men,” “Back Down,” “What Up Gangsta,” “Patiently Waiting,” and “Poor Lil’ Rich” spring to mind, and I will always love “21 Questions” for the “I love you like a fat kid loves cake” line alone) but this one has always been my fave. It’s a perfect distillation of the image that 50 was trying to project when he burst onto the scene: a hood-hardened gangster who wouldn’t hesitate to do his enemies harm. And given his recent history, you could believe him, too! There’s really nothing about this song that should be praised in any way, but I’ve been thinking about the gravity of the following line a lot in the past month or so: “The summertime is a killing season/ It’s hot out this bitch, that’s a good enough reason.” Also, 50′s boast “the DA can play this motherfucking tape in court” *has* to be one of the inspirations behind this great Key & Peele sketch, right?

3) “A Baltimore Love Thing” (2005) The Massacre was incredibly disappointing on the whole. I can remember clearly sitting around with my friends in a dorm room at the Shoreland listening to it all the way through the day that it dropped, wanting to love it but slowly realizing that it wasn’t going to live up to our expectations. “Ski Mask Way” could be an honorable mention on this list, and “Piggy Bank” is kind of funny, but otherwise it’s a steaming pile of shit. “Baltimore Love Thing,” though, is a masterpiece. It’s incredibly dark, rapped from the perspective of heroin itself (sort of like what Nas’s “I Gave You Power” does for guns) in order to detail the destruction that addiction--and, by extension, drug trafficking--leaves in its wake. Even more fucked up, 50-as-heroin voices an abusive partner addressing a woman, threatening her should she ever try to leave him. For my money, “You broke my heart, you dirty bitch, I won’t forget what you did/ If you give birth, I’ll already be in love with your kids” is one of the coldest lines in the annals of rap, full stop. In the second verse, he switches to the flip side of an abuser’s mindset: “I never steer you wrong, if you hyper I make you calm/ I’ll be your incentive, your reason for you to move forward.” All in all, it’s a great concept song that shows off 50′s range as a rapper... and is a testament to what he could have been.

4) “Hustler’s Ambition” (2005) Goddamn, I fucking love everything about this song! The beat is fantastic (great sample, btw), prefiguring the sound on a future great mixtape from the G-Unit crew. 50′s flow here is flawless, arguably the best, smoothest he’s ever been. This was basically the “theme” for 2005′s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ film, and tells the story of his come up in the drug game (or, at least, 50′s version of his carefully constructed hagiography). The lyrics are the true gems here, so I’ll just let a few of the standouts speak for themselves:

“Check my logic: fiends don’t like seeds in they weed, shit/ Send me them seeds, I’ll grow ‘em what they need”

“I sell anything, I’m a hustler, I know how to grind/ Step on grapes, put it in water, and tell you it’s wine”

“I made plans to make it, a prisoner of the state/ Now I can invite your ass out to my estate”

“Pour Cristal in the blender, make a protein shake”

and finally

“The feds watch me, icy, they can’t stop me/ Racists pointing at me, ‘Look at *****race’: Hello!”

5) “Ghetto Like A Motherfucker” (2011) I remember first encountering this track on a Tumblr compilation (I think?) called Don’t Fuck This Up, Curtis! and allowing myself to get excited that the old 50 was back! As the compilation’s name implies, around that time 50 had been releasing a string of online-only singles that were better than anything he’d put out in five or so years, and so there was some hope that he’d soon be making a triumphant return to the rap game. Sadly, this was not to be. But I still bang this track every month or so. The idea here was that 50 had written something, set it to a very sparse, stripped-down beat, and posted it online as an invitation for DIY rap producers to play with it and layer their own compositions on top of it. In that sense, it represented a melange of rap’s earliest roots--dudes spitting over vinyl cuts in basements and parks, just fucking around and having fun--and the possibilities afforded by the digital age and rap’s embrace of online platforms for mixing and remixing material (on a side note, I like to think of this as part of 21st century rap’s “punk rock” aesthetic, and would argue that this genre has done it better than any other). As with “Hustler’s Ambition,” “Baltimore Love Thing,” and “Ghetto Qu’ran,” this track gives 50 a chance to really showcase his talents as a writer and a rapper. The lyrics are as grimy as the beat, painting a picture of urban poverty and pre-fame 50, and 50 switches up his flow at multiple points throughout. Here are some of my favorite lines:

“Slim chance I’ma go back to killing roaches/ Be quiet, you can hear the rats in the wall/ Make you wanna pump crack ‘til you stack racks”

“Dice game, shake ‘em up, praying’ for a 6/ The wolves out there hungry, they lookin’ for a lick”

“****** pissed on the staircase, in the elevator/ Now I’m pissed cuz I’m starting to smell like piss, player”

and

“All a ***** need is a block and a connect/ And a box of 9 MMs to load in the TEC.”

50′s last two studio albums--Before I Self Destruct and Animal Ambition--honestly weren’t half-bad; I would venture so far as to say that they were both better than The Massacre and Curtis. But for 50 it was too little, too late, really. Too many rappers had come along since then doing what he did, only better and fresher. This is a Migos world now; we’re just living in it. And so, I’m left to ponder what could have been.

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akisazame · 5 years

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okay, i don’t think i’m obeying the 500 words or less rule but "Can I talk yet?" Josh says softly. through "I could kiss you now," Josh says. on all the solutions were trial and error

link to the chapter in question

“Can I talk yet?” Josh says softly.

Rebecca laughs in spite of herself. She cracks open one eyelid to see Josh, watching her with a mostly neutral expression, his head cocked slightly to one side like a curious dog. “Yeah,” she says, her voice cracking on the consonant. “Yeah, you can talk.”

One of the ways I constantly challenge myself as a writer is pushing to sustain narrative tension, but when I wrote Josh he just instantly wanted to hit the catharsis button. He’s so soft! I love him.

“So,” Josh begins, and then stops. He looks down at his knee, which still has Rebecca’s hand resting on it; before she can get self-conscious and pull away, he puts his own hand on top of hers. “That was… a lot.”

It was a lot. Rebecca, as a person, is a lot. She knows this better than anyone. Her brain is screaming at her that she’s made a terrible mistake, that she’s a horrible stupid bitch who ruins everything and now she’s ruined this, she’s ruined this for good in a completely different way from the last time. She resisted her emotions through her whole speech but they’re cracking through the surface now, pulse racing and tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she somehow manages to say without completely losing control of herself.

Rebecca, on the other hand, isn’t ready to accept that it could be this easy. (We could take a long winding detour here and talk about how much of this scenario is based in reality vs Rebecca’s subconscious presenting her the path of least resistance, but that’s getting into some Deep Philosophy Bullshit and let’s leave it vague it’s more interesting that way.) In a way, this is an ultimate nightmare scenario for someone with any level of anxiety, because you’re faced with having to apologize for shit that you thought you’d apologized for and moved past. It’s like when you’re lying in bed and remember that dumb thing you said in fifth grade, except real. Not great!

“You kind of have a lot to be sorry for,” Josh admits. “I always thought you were so innocent, but this… it’s hard to process all of it.”

Rebecca’s fight or flight response kicks in, and a whole list of excuses are on the tip of her tongue in an instant. Josh shouldn’t have led her on when they met in New York; Josh shouldn’t have told her to lie to Valencia about summer camp; if Josh was very attracted to her then he should’ve kept it to himself instead of making her feel like she had a chance with him. In Rebecca’s memory, she once told him all these things and more, publicly attacking him because she thought that’s what she needed to do to feel better about how he’d hurt her. But it didn’t help then and it certainly won’t help now. “I’m not asking you to understand, or to forgive me. You don’t ever have to forgive me.”

Every single goddamn time I watch 102 I literally yell at the screen during the fallout at Spider’s because IT WAS JOSH’S FAULT!! HE TOLD HER TO LIE!!! In general I think Josh should take a little more responsibility for some of the shit that happens in 1a. But this is Rebecca’s POV post-407 and she’s got that Josh glitter so like... what can you do, I guess.

“But,” Josh goes on, ducking his head so he can see more of her face, “I’m… not mad? It seems like I should be, right? D- do you want me to be mad?”

Does she? She doesn’t know. Rebecca has no idea what she wanted out of this. What she does know is that, in her own present, Josh Chan has wormed his way back into her heart when she was once convinced that he was irrelevant. She also knows that, in her own present, the amount of bad blood and baggage between the two of them is so immense that sometimes it feels insurmountable. If she chooses this and they get to start over again from this moment, with all of her dirty laundry aired, maybe they can build something together that won’t crash and burn. It almost feels too easy. Too pain-free. “Can you maybe yell at me a little bit?”

So, in general, writing Josh’s chapter was hard. I spitballed several different scenarios before finally landing on 111, but even that wasn’t ideal because at that point Josh is still with Valencia. I had a lot of guidelines for myself as far as making things “fair” which basically boiled down to “no one is going to cheat on anyone.” (This is why I picked 302 for Nathaniel even though 211 seems a more obvious choice.) So Rebecca’s end goal is to get with Josh, but she doesn’t see a way forward from here without things getting messy.

All at once, Josh’s whole face softens. “I’m not gonna yell at you, Becks.”

“Well, I feel like someone should be yelling at me,” Rebecca mutters. “You could call Valencia. I’m sure she’d love to give me a verbal bitch slap right about now. Maybe even a real bitch slap.”

“She does really hate you,” Josh says lightly, like it’s no big deal, even though to Rebecca it’s a very big deal in more ways than one, “ever since that whole thing where you kissed her at Spider’s.”

In this house we love and appreciate Valencia Maria Perez!!! It’s unfortunate that Valencia is Dame Not Appearing In This Fic, because I got to touch on the devolution of Rebecca’s friendships with Paula and Heather but not Valencia, who had the furthest to go. Rebecca is totally devastated by the fact that Valencia isn’t her friend, so much so that she doesn’t even let herself dwell on it.

Right. She’d kind of conveniently left that whole incident out of her confessional laundry list. Then again, it’s not as though Josh was the wronged party in that particular scenario. Rebecca finally tugs her hand free from beneath Josh’s so she can grab her wine glass off the table, because suddenly she kind of needs it. “So, uh, here’s the thing about that,” she says, raising the wine glass to her lips and holding it there, tapping her fingertips nervously against the side. “Um, basically, I wanted to be kissing you, but Valencia was there, so I couldn’t kiss you, but Valencia is your girlfriend, so kissing her was basically like kissing you, so…” She winces and tips some wine into her mouth because that’s far preferable to allowing words to continue coming out of it.

Long story short: this is some real fucking bullshit on my part. 1.8 on the Kinsey Scale. I rest my case.

When she opens her eyes again, Josh is just staring at her. She feels exposed, like this is one of those dreams where she’s just casually going about her day and suddenly she’s completely naked, except this is somehow way more embarrassing.

I wrote the nude dream comparison and then thought “wait, would that even upset Rebecca that much?”

“I could kiss you now,” Josh says.

It k i l l e d me to keep Josh’s chapter platonic considering Rebecca gets to go to town on both Nathaniel and Greg, because it made the scenarios feel super unbalanced. (I, uh, might have accidentally lied to Rachel Bloom when she asked what my fanfic was about and I got flustered and said “Rebecca gets to fuck all the guys.”) But, like I said, cheating was off-limits, and I kept myself to it. The thing is, 111 is immediately after the camp episode, where Josh really starts to be unable to contain his big gooey feelings for Rebecca, so he makes the suggestion and Rebecca has to be the responsible one for once and turn him down. In a way it’s a bigger decision for her than coming clean with him in the first place, because this is the way the romcom should go: big grand gesture, followed by a kiss.

#catty-words #fic meme #i feel like i totally compartmentalized this fic after i finished it #so hopefully this was somewhat insightful

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kimabutch · 6 years

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WARNING: this post contains huge goddamn TAZ: Balance spoilers. It’s also 1800 words long and I’m literally begging for someone to actually read it cause I put 3 hours of work into it.

In my opinion, one of the biggest unanswered questions at the end of TAZ: Balance is whether Lucretia knew that Lup was in the umbrella. It's a compelling question, in my opinion, and I’ve seen a few fic authors explore it. But today, I figured I’d pull an Angus McDonald and lay out all the facts, and see what we get from them. For this analysis, I’m going to be running on the assumption that Griffin knew what he was doing the whole time (even though that’s clearly false) because it’s no fun if you just handwave everything away like that. Also, I’m super grateful to @tazscripts, which was an amazing resource for me while writing this.

To start, let’s go over motivations. Now, there’s lots of reasons to believe that Lucretia wouldn’t want to keep Lup trapped in an umbrella. Apparently, after wiping everyone’s memories, Lucretia “looked everywhere” for Lup and “could hardly bear Lup's absence” (Stolen Century, 7). She clearly feels horribly guilty for not finding her. She says as much to Barry and Taako, explaining that her barrier will protect them all “save for Lup,” because “there was nothing [she] could do” (Lunar Interlude V, 2). And when Lup does emerge from the umbrella, she apologizes and says that “she looked for so long” and that she’s “so happy [Lup’s] back” (Story and Song, 1). It seems very possible that if Lucretia had suspected that Lup was in the umbrella, she would have gotten her out of there as soon as possible, or at the very least tried to confirm whether or not she could be in there.

On the other hand, if Lucretia knew, she might have also felt that, as far as her plans were concerned, Lup being in the umbrella in lich form was safest. Lucretia was already terrified of lich-Barry remembering what she had done to them, and had “to take measures to keep him at arm's length, just in case” (Stolen Century, 7). She was worried, rightly, that Barry would try to stop her, especially if he knew what she did to the others. But she had good reason to suspect that Lup would be even more angry after being trapped in her own umbrella for years, separated from both her love and her brother. Instead of keeping Lup at arm’s length, like Barry, why not just keep her in the umbrella, where she couldn’t interfere with her plans?

So while Lucretia has a good defence — that she loved Lup and wouldn’t have kept her in the umbrella if she had the chance — she also had a very good motivation to keep her in there. The big question then becomes: could she have reasonably known that Lup was in there?

And this is where it gets complicated.

Now, it’s indisputable that Lucretia knew what the umbrella was. She claims, in Moonlighting, that she doesn’t know (Moonlighting, 2), but given that the Starblaster crew spent an entire year working together to make their magical items in the 92nd cycle (Stolen Century, 7), she’d have to be the worst chronicler in the world not to write down what everyone made. Presumably, she feeds some information to Leon the Artificer, since he tells them the obviously fake story of the “Umbra Wizards” who supposedly crafted the item (Moonlighting, 3). Importantly, he calls it the “Umbra Staff,” which is exactly what Lup calls it when she makes the item, and knows exactly what the umbrella does, even though no one but the Starblaster crew would probably have known (Stolen Century, 7). Lucretia clearly recognized that Taako had the “Umbra Staff,” and either told Leon to make up an origin story for this “Umbra Staff,” or actually lied to Leon about its origins.

(This is a little off-topic, but I also think there’s a very real possibility that Lucretia told Leon to ply Taako for information about how he acquired the umbrella, to avoid raising suspicions herself. She herself never asks where Taako got the umbrella (Moonlighting, 2), but Leon does (Moonlighting, 3). I don’t think this actually factors into whether Lucretia is guilty or not, but it’s interesting to think about.)

So, yes, Lucretia knew about the umbrella’s abilities, and she knew that it used to belong to Lup. I’m not sure that this alone could have reasonably allowed Lucretia to even suspect that Lup was inside the umbrella. But let’s look at other information that Lucretia had at her disposable to help her connect the dots.

Firstly — she may have known how Taako acquired the umbrella. I think it’s possible that Leon told her that Taako got it off a “dead guy” “in a cave or something” (Moonlighting, 3), or even that Killian noticed that Taako picked it up in a room with a skeleton in a red robe, and told Lucretia that, although Killian wasn’t in the room when Taako picked it up (Here There Be Gerblins, 5).

Secondly — she may have known that when Lup left the Starblaster, she had her umbrella. I feel like this is something that the Starblaster crew would have noted as they searched for her.

Thirdly — she almost certainly knew a little about how liches work, given that two of her best friends were liches and she lived with them for almost twenty years (Barry and Lup become liches in cycle 82 — Stolen Century, 6). Lucretia is super sharp, and almost definitely knew that liches are basically made up of magical energy, which is exactly what the umbrella sucks up. This is the point that I see lots of fanfiction writers bring up, that these are the dots that she could have easily connected, had she really thought about it. I think there are some problems with people saying this. To begin, I don’t think Lup herself knew that the umbrella posed a danger to her, given that she made the umbrella while she’d already done the whole lich thing (Stolen Century, 7). And then, there’s Barry, who sees Taako holding the umbrella in Crystal Kingdom, hears that Taako “took it off this dead thug with a red robe,” realizes that “dead thug” is Lup, but still doesn’t consider that Lup might be in the umbrella, even though he’s a lich himself (Crystal Kingdom, 7). Shit, Barry literally sees the umbrella suck up Edward in Wonderland and doesn’t begin to consider that the umbrella might have done the same to Lup, even though he knows she died with her umbrella in her hands (Suffering Game, 7). And this is Barry goddamn Bluejeans we’re talking about, the same guy who offers to blow himself up just to hold Lup in her lich form (Story and Song, 1) — you really don’t think that Barry would break the umbrella the second that he suspected Lup was in there?

So in this point, I think it’s fair to say that Lucretia might have connected these dots, but she can’t really be held responsible for not doing so anymore than Barry, in my opinion. They all kinda fucked up on that front.

Lucretia does, however, learn even more information than Barry over the course of the story — extra clues that might have helped her piece everything together.

For one thing, she definitely sees the Test of Initiation, in which Taako inexplicably pulls out the umbrella from his bag and fires a spell that is beyond his capabilities (Moonlighting, 2). I think there’s a reasonable chance that she could recognize Lup’s magic, or at very least have used it as a clue. More importantly, though — she must hear, during Lunar Interlude III, about the giant L-U-P burned into the walls of the cafeteria. She must hear about that and immediately inquire into who was using the cafeteria — I can’t think of why she wouldn’t. And hell, she might even be able to get a first-hand account of what happened from the “kitchen staff cleaning up in the backroom,” who are close enough that Taako “can hear them clinkin’ and clankin’ around back there” (Lunar Interlude III). So she see Lup’s name burned into the walls, knowing that Lup is a goddamn arsonist, almost certainly knowing that this was done by Taako who she knows doesn’t have his memories back, possibly even knowing that his umbrella did this… and she still doesn’t get it? Or else, she does get it, but by now, it really, really is safest just to keep Lup in that umbrella.

I think this might be the single most damning point for her, where it seems like Lucretia either knew, or should have known. There’s only one thing that might save Lucretia here, and that’s this: she set up a pretty powerful anti-lich ward on the Bureau (Lunar Interlude V, 1). She has every reason to think that no lich can get on her moon, at least not in lich form. No reason to think that Lup could have gotten past her protection.

So, in summary: there are a lot of clues that Lup was in the umbrella, many of which Lucretia probably could have noticed, although she is definitely not the only character who didn’t. There’s at least one reason that Lucretia might have ruled out Lup being in the umbrella, but several more reasons for, at the very least, investigating what was going on. Given that Barry also failed to put many of the same pieces together, it seems odd to say that Lucretia must have done so and kept it a secret just because she had a motivation for that. But at the same time, she did have more pieces than him, and more time to put them together (given that he spent most of his year regrowing his body and frantically trying to protect/warn the THB).

To get back to our original question — did Lucretia know that Lup was in the umbrella? I’m don’t think we have an obvious, concrete answer. I think there are still signs pointing all ways, and that all interpretations of it are pretty valid. It’s interesting to think of Lucretia keeping Lup in the umbrella for the same reason that she erases everyone’s memories and sends the THB on near-deadly mission — not because she wants to, but because she feels she has to. It’s also interesting to think of her missing the forest for the trees, of being so caught up with her own personal mission that she doesn’t think to ponder the clues she has right in front of her face. Personally, I think it’s most likely that after Lunar Interlude III, Lucretia has some suspicions or maybe even just subconscious doubts, but doesn’t really indulge them because she was too afraid of knowing how badly she’s fucked Lup over, or of trying to get Lup out of the umbrella with the Hunger looming overhead. I think all of these interpretations both fit within her established character and add to it, in their own ways. All of them, as shown above, fit well within the plot.

But I want to end this post by recalling Lup’s own interpretation of events — that Lucretia absolutely didn’t know she was in the umbrella. That Lup somehow, after everything, “can’t fault” Lucretia “for not looking in [the umbrella]” (Story and Song, 1).

And I think that’s important too.

Thank you so much if you read this far! Please feel free to add to it, I have so many feelings.

#taz balance #the adventure zone #thezonecast #tazcast

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silenthillmutual · 5 years

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okay. warning for negative bc this is kind of a vent post?

so. i’m still working on unlearning a lot of things that i had kinda drilled into my head with my mom that i did not realize were bad until recently? or things that i could not easily voice were having negative effects on me until recently. and i’m kind of thinking about how my mom is very. hhhhhhhh.

my mom does not have a life outside of work. and not like, “oh she’s very dedicated to her career” sort of way. but like, she does not believe in taking time off. and i think in the way our capitalist environment functions that always comes off sounding very admirable. it’s not.

because what that equates to is like, she works to avoid other things in her life. she says that she can’t afford to take a break or any time to herself and my best friend and i had told her repeatedly that if she really wants a relationship she is going to have to take time to devote to that which means working less if only by a little bit! and that i have told her that she should take time to herself to relax whether she had a relationship or not because it’s not healthy to obsess over work the way that she does.

and. i guess she does a bit now. i saw recently on her fb that she went to colonial beach w her boyfriend and like. good for her. but that doesn’t erase that she is constantly harping on me, even from a distance, to do like. everything all in one day. and that i should be working 40+ hours a week and that if i don’t do that, that i’m lazy.

like my mom’s version of workaholism is to view herself as the rule and not the exception, which i can see in certain contexts how that translates into “oh so she’s not full of herself” but it’s actually really the opposite! because i think it takes a special brand of narcissism to assume that everyone is and should be exactly like you and that if they are not they are failing and that is their own fault.

so, my mom has fibro, like on top of all of that and i wonder if she’d feel better if she didn’t constantly push herself into working all the time. and the truth is that she’ll look at any time i spend online regardless of what i’m doing (bc she doesn’t ever care what i’m actually doing on there, to her it’s all the same) as time wasted and an addiction to the internet. and she thinks that everyone else w fibro or w any chronic or mental illness can work exactly as much as she can because if they do anything less they’re being lazy.

and i think you can kinda see why it’s an issue for a licensed therapist to think or feel that way.

so like. i have never pursued any job that says it’s part time, under $10 an hour that wants me to work 39 hours a week (one hour from full time in the commonwealth of va), no benefits, 8 hours every day, retail, with a massive list of responsibilities. because i know that i can’t handle doing 8+ hours which is how much it’ll wind up being if they want me to open/close (taking into consideration traffic and people who just will not fucking leave), like i had to struggle to work 8 hours at a job i actually LIKED without thinking of working at fucking target or some shit for 8+ hours a day. i can’t do it. between the anxiety and the autism that sounds like something that will make me absolutely want to die and i know this because i tried that at party city for three days and came home in tears every single day and my feet hurt so bad i couldn’t move.

and my mom’s response to that was like. just deal with it! just push through it! you have to!

you’d think a therapist with a chronic illness would be more compassionate than that.

but my mom’s whole life is focused on work and i don’t even think it’s because she just loves her job that much. she just refuses to do anything outside of it. she has a dog and a cat (MY cat I adopted her she is under MY legal name and that dog is basically my dog, he was my baby) that i was under no circumstances allowed to take with me regardless of where i went or when, but that she does not...enjoy. at all. she is constantly bitching about the pets and she bought an automatic feeder and self-scooping litterbox and hired pet sitters not for the occasional trip out to her boyfriend’s but for like a regular thing because she is at home as little as possible. every single second that she can spend at work she will.

and she hated that i didn’t spend 6-8 hours at work (more counting traffic) and then want to spend all of my free time looking for a second or different job and cleaning the house and cooking all the meals and running all the errands and taking care of the pets. with no help.

and that’s part of what i mean about her working to get out of having to do other things. because she also works so much so that she can get out of eating. like. ever. her body image issues are so fucked up that she will eat one meal a day and be like “ugh i’m such a pig i’m so fat i should stop eating maybe then i’ll lose weight”. and then she’ll deny that she he has an unhealthy relationship to food and claim she just “doesn’t have time to eat” even though she apparently has time to bitch at me over facebook or henpeck her boyfriend and read 8 different versions of her horoscope in an hour + longer breaks

like i’m sorry but if i could eat in 30 minutes with my coworker calling me to panic on the other end bc everyone decides to come into the library at the same fucking time then i think maybe. just maybe. you can eat a goddamn granola bar in 2+ hours while sitting at your desk instead of saying “i should be writing notes” and not actually writing your fucking notes!

what really kinda. bothers me all about it. like in addition to all this super unhealthy stuff that makes her occupation as a therapist hypocritical as hell is how she criticizes me for doing the exact shit that she does.

by which i mean. holding other people to my standards.

i’ve worked a lot at not being judgmental of other people and challenging my own notions of what is right and acceptable when i find myself judging other people. it’s really hard. i think it’s connected a lot to being autistic and the kind of biases that we’re all brought up into and it’s why travelling and secondary education are really important, not even just because of learning aspect (although liberal arts forcing you to take classes outside of your comfort zone. i think helps a lot in this too) but because meeting people from all different kinds of backgrounds makes you look at things from different angles you wouldn’t have otherwise, because if you never leave you never broaden your horizons.

so when there are still standards that i hold people to it’s. i try to just hold people to “not being a total asshole to everyone around you” as a relatively basic standard that i don’t think should be controversial? but even when i voice that opinion - like, literally, i went to richmond cc with two friends and when i got back i was telling my mom about this guy who was very loudly, specifically so that i could hear his unsolicited opinion of my cosplay, talking about how bad/boring jojo was because he knew i was dressed as someone from jojo and he wanted me and everyone else around him to know his opinion of jojo, then went and started mocking his friend for wanting to buy a gba instead of a gameboy sp bc his friend and i both saw the mother 1+2 and mother 3 cartridges and was just being an asshole! again! and i was just complaining to her after the fact about this guy being a dick and my mom’s response, not even like an “i don’t get it but i’m sorry” first was just

“well maybe he’s autistic”

and! i’m sorry! but that! doesn’t fuckign fly with me! i said “so am i that doesn’t mean i go around being an asshole to everyone at con”

and she was like “well maybe he’s not as high-functioning as you you can’t hold everyone to your standards”

NO! NO MAYBE HE WAS BEING AN ASSHOLE BECAUSE HE’S CIS WHITE GUY AND THINKS EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW HIS OPINIONS! do you know how many fucking people go to con are autistic????? a whole shit ton of us! do you know how many poc, trans, nb, not-straight people loudly voice their opinions to make the people around them including their friends feel like shit? NONE OF THEM! NONE OF THEM! NONE OF THEM! ONLY THE CISHET WHITE GUYS WHO THINK THEY’RE TOO GOOD FOR COSPLAY FUCKING DO THAT!

and it’s so irritating! like i’m not allowed to talk about my autism EVER and even when my standards are REALLY FUCKIGN LOW i’m being too judgmental of others but she’s allowed to talk about how everyone who doesn’t work 40+ hours every week and starve themselves is fucking?? lazy????

unreal. un fuckign believable.

#nori talks #nori's adventures in moving out

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rejectedbyeharmony · 5 years

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BOY BYE.

Ok I’ve had some time to cool off so I can finish this story. The point of this blog was to air out my baggage around love and relationships. But writing this story has made me realize that I never had a relationship with Matt. I had one with his child. That’s who I spent all my time with, that’s why I put my heart and soul into. I threw his birthday parties, I made sure we sent everyone Christmas cards, I hung out with other moms who had kids his age so that he had time to socialize. These things seemed important to me, as a parent. They were not as important to his actual parents, and it’s really opened my eyes to what a completely different childhood a kid can have when their parents put them first. This was not the case. All decisions made around the child were in the interest of mom or dad, but never him. Oh, and I was not allowed to have input in any of these decisions, but I was still expected to take on all the responsibilities of parenting him. Seems fair. Okay I’m getting upset again, let me get on with the story…

Matt was a line cook at a golf club when we started dating. He was frying frozen food and making soggy quesadillas for the already half-in-the-bag club members. He cooked for me a few times and I could tell he had far more potential than he realized. I’ll never forget the time he cooked kale in a pan with ACV, apples and walnuts. It changed my life forever.

He mentioned that he spent one semester in culinary school, and one of his professors told him that he already had all the basic skills he needed to get into the restaurant industry, and he would get a better education in the kitchen than in the classroom. What Matt lacked in self-advocacy, he made up in talent. So I encouraged him to seek out better employment, but he worried about the schedule. Chef’s hours are hard. He would have go into work around noon, and wouldn’t get out until midnight or later. I worked regular hours, 8 to 4, so I promised to step up as a coparent in order to help him make his dream a reality. (Cue the Mean Girls gif: Because I’m SUCH a good [girl]friend.)

For months, he and I were like passing ships in the night. Sometimes he would get up and hang with me in the morning, make me coffee and kiss me goodbye. Matt would drop his son at a babysitter’s house on his way to work, and I would pick him up on my way home. We would play and have dinner, and watch Paw Patrol or My Little Pony until it was his bedtime. Most nights it was pretty easy getting him to bed, but I dreaded it.

This poor kid absorbed all of the trauma of the fights between his parents, inconsistency with schedules, being passed from adult-to-adult all day long, and vacillating between a house with rules, and a house with no boundaries. As a result, the kid had night terrors. Every night when I put him to bed, I would brace myself. I gritted my teeth and clenched my butthole waiting for it to start. Then, like a haunted house starts up every night, he would scream and cry for as long as an hour. Sometimes I would lose it, and I would scream with him. I would sit in my bed and scream and cry and curse Matt for not telling me about this before we moved in together. One time, I thought I might actually kill him. I imagined Matt coming home to a bloody mess, and me just sitting in a corner, eyes bugging out, rocking myself, repeating “he just wouldn’t stop screaming.”

It stressed me the fuck out. I begged Matt to take him to a pediatrician that could help, but their agreement was that Amelia would take care of all the doctor’s appointments. Shockingly, she couldn’t ever find time to take this kid to get him the help he needed, she could barely keep a fucking job. It was devastating to me because all I wanted to do was just help him. I wanted some answers, some solutions… my heart broke for him. I dug deep into the bowels of the mommy interweb to get answers, but all I could find was that weren’t supposed to wake them up.

Holy. Fucking. Shit. There was no solution to this problem. Talk about psychological warfare. I begged for the bedbugs over the night terrors.

Matt was only home at bedtime once a week to experience this, so he didn’t believe that they happened every night. And his son didn’t remember them when we asked him about them. I was literally losing my mind. Matt and I fought about it constantly. One day, two of my closest friends—who are both moms—reached out and told me that Matt had contacted them. He explained to them, that because I wasn’t a parent I couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through, and that was my friends should be the ones to tell me I was wrong.

What the fuck? How fucking dare you… I helped you excel in your career, I provided a home for you and your child, and I made myself a technical single parent every other week. I dealt with your ex’s bullshit, because you refused to, and this is how you thank me? He wasn’t the only one working on creating a career for himself. I had only recently finished college, and started working my dream job with my dream company. I was working my ass off, and he was totally out of line.

Naturally, both my friends told him to fuck off. I felt so betrayed by him, that, not only would he go behind my back and try to turn my friends against me; but worse, he didn’t even give them all the information, making me sound like a control freak bitch (which is not entirely untrue, just not in this context.) All I wanted him to do was to take the kid to the goddamn pediatrician to find out what we can do to help him.

Finally, Matt took the kid for a dental appointment, and even though he was four, his dentist was very concerned about the state of his teeth. He asked if we were doing regular dental hygiene. Matt and I brushed his teeth every morning and every night that he was with us, so we knew that we were doing our part. He called Amelia to ask her what she was doing, and she answered that she didn’t think she had to brush his teeth.

Louder for the people in the back: She didn’t think she had to brush his fucking teeth!!!

She fed him garbage food all day, having no sense of nutrition for herself or her child, and she wasn’t even brushing his teeth. Clearly this woman had no business being a parent. I had enough. I told Matt I needed some space, and asked him to stay with his sister for awhile. Later, he got his son’s cavities filled, and the night terrors stopped. Weird…

Eventually he moved back in. With no more night terrors, and this incident giving us an upper hand with Amelia, things seems to chill out. Life was much easier, and we were getting along much better. Then, one unfortunately day, I learned that my one of my best friends passed away. He lost his fight against liver failure, and it was very tragic and sad. I texted Matt on my way home “hey just found out JT died and I’m really sad, could you just be home and hang with me tonight?” It was his day off but he usually has something scheduled like playing Frisbee golf, or getting stoned with his friends or whatever, but I just needed him that night. We had been working hard on getting along, and asking him to sit with me that night was me raising a white flag. I just needed a shoulder to cry on. He agreed to stay home and told me he would see me soon.

Imagine my surprise when I got home and he wasn’t there. And neither was his dog. I texted him and he said he “just ran out to get cigarettes and will be right back!” I couldn’t understand why he took the dog with him, but I didn’t ask, I was too preoccupied with my own grief to try to decode the actions of a stoner on his day off. One time I came home to him naked in our bed passed out and I just left him there. He came downstairs like “babe when did you get here I was in bed waiting for you.” Fuck outta here Sleeping Beauty, you were drooling.

So when he got home, he had a backpack and the dog on a leash and he was dressed to go somewhere. It was obvious he had something to tell me and I really didn’t really want to hear it. He started to tell me that he decided to leave me. Wow, could this have waited a few days, considering the circumstance… In spite of my anger towards him, I still didn’t want to be alone with my grief. I asked him to stay, we could order food and smoke a bowl, watch tv… and he said “I’m sorry, I can’t deal with you being sad right now.” And then, he left. And my heart broke and I never forgave him.

I let him stay at his sisters house for a few days, and then I asked him to come back and pack up his shit. I was done. I was done getting treated like a babysitter for both him and his child. I was done being a mediator between him and his ex, because they couldn’t communicate. I was done being a life coach and teaching him to stay motivated and ask for more in his career. He had to go be his own man without me. And I needed to learn to grow on my own too. Codependency got the best of me with this one, and it was a hard decision to end it, but I knew it was the right one because he was dragging me down.

My family could see this, but I couldn’t. I resented them for how they treated him, and how they never supported our relationship. But in hindsight, I’m grateful that they didn’t pretend to accept him. So many relationships before him lasted too long, because my family was complacent for my benefit. We were learning together that we needed to be honest about our impressions and feelings toward the men in my life. This became especially difficult in my next relationship, because he presented as such a great person, when he was really the worst thing that ever happened to me. The next story is the longest, the hardest, and the last. For now, at least.

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eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years

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Ben catches feelings and decides to take things to the next level with his long-time roommate, close friend, and occasional hook-up. Rey, ever the more sensible half of the duo, decides that they should make sure a relationship between them won’t be a total disaster first.

What they need is a trial run.

Featuring: awkward run-ins with a family member, even more awkward holidays with the whole family, and fluff. So much fluff. All the fluff.

It’s the last chapter, and I’m getting unnecessarily emotional about it so just... keep reading for Ben and Rey and a shit ton of fluff and a happy ending. I’ll be here, trying to pull it together in time for the thank-you note.

On Saturday, Rey wakes to the sound of Ben puttering about the kitchen.

She heads to the bathroom to wash up, makes a quick stop by her room to get shorts (how long has it been since she last slept in her own bed, anyway?), and enters the kitchen to find Ben making breakfast for two.

“Hey, you,” Ben smiles, looking up briefly from the French toast he’s preparing.

“Hey,” Rey replies, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She presses her forehead to the curve of his spine and lingers for a moment before stepping away. “What’s all this?”

“I vaguely remember saying something about making breakfast more often, so,” he shrugs, shaking his head at her when Rey snags a slice of bacon off the counter. “And hey, guess what?”

Rey heads for the fridge in search of orange juice. “What?”

“It’s Saturday,” Ben tells her, waiting for her to turn back to him before he continues. “We’ve been together for a week.”

A whole week, gone by just like that. Rey can’t even remember why she ever thought being with Ben would be anything but as easy and natural as breathing. “Would you look at that?” she murmurs in wonder, setting down the carton of orange juice to loop an arm around Ben’s neck and bring him down for a kiss. “Happy one-week anniversary, I guess.”

He comes willingly, abandoning the stove as his hands find her waist and hold her steady while she stands on her toes to reach him. “Happy one-week anniversary,” Ben echoes with a slight laugh, capturing her lips in another kiss before Rey can pull away. Her fingers find his hair of their own accord, and she can feel his hands slipping down to the back of her thighs when a telltale smell hits her nose.

“Ben,” Rey murmurs against his lips before she lets go of him and steps away. A disgruntled sound finds it way past his throat, something dangerously close to a whine – not that he’ll ever admit to it. She shakes her head at him with a grin and points at the stove. “The toast.”

The haze in his eyes instantly gives way to clear panic. “Oh, shit.”

Rey laughs and Ben grimaces and breakfast, even if the French toast ends up slightly… crispier than they’re used to, is perfect.

“So,” Ben says after breakfast, as they’re on their way to get groceries. “Now that we’ve been together for one whole week–” And here they share matching grins because sure, it’s only been a week and no one actually celebrates that but it still feels like something. “I think it’s time I tell you the full story about my life before I came here.”

Rey stops short, and their joined hands cause Ben to stop too. “Are you sure?” she asks, searching his eyes for any hint of reluctance or uncertainty. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready to talk about it, Ben. I don’t mind.”

He sighs. “As much as I hate to admit it, my father was right. I’m going to have to talk about it at some point, and right now I’d rather talk about it with you than anyone else. I want you to know who I was before this, the way I know who you used to be. You’ve never hidden your past from anyone, Rey, especially not from me. If I’m only ever going to share my past with one person, I want it to be you.”

It’s… it’s an offering, Rey realizes. It’s his way of saying that he trusts her enough to let her in, trusts her not to run away from whatever he’s about to tell her.

“Okay,” she gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand in hers as they start walking again. “If you’re ready to tell me, then I want to hear it. I want to know all of you.”

And so, Ben tells her about the child whose mother was never around, the child whose father tried his best but just couldn’t quite understand him.

“They thought maybe Luke would have a better chance at getting through, because I was always reading and learning and writing so hey, why not send the lonely kid to live with his workaholic uncle who barely had time to take care of himself?”

Eventually Ben went to law school the way his mother had, the way everyone had always expected him to, because there just wasn’t any other path for him. He wasn’t happy but he wasn’t unhappy either, and he’d resigned himself to a life of never quite being content.

“And then, halfway through my first year in college, the scandal happened,” he says quietly, clutching Rey’s hand as they walk down an aisle of instant noodles. Ben had been eighteen the year his family’s secret was revealed, which means Rey couldn’t have been any older than ten or eleven.

But even she remembers. “The press found out about your grandfather.”

“You know, my mom tried for years to figure out who could have had that information and, of that very small list of people, who would have leaked it. Sometimes I tell myself that if I had known it was Snoke all along, if I’d known he was the one responsible for putting her through hell, I never would have gone to work with him.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Rey insists. “Ben, I know you. You love your mother. There’s no way you would have agreed to even speak to him if you knew.”

Ben shakes his head. “You can’t understand what was going through my mind at the time, Rey. I think even I don’t understand. But I was angry, and hurt, and above all I felt like some stupid kid they didn’t even trust enough to share the secret with. So when Snoke offered me an internship that summer, I took it so that I wouldn’t have to work with my mom. When he told me that my grandfather was really just a misunderstood man, I fell for it because no one else had ever told my otherwise. No one in my family ever talked about my grandfather, and I finally knew why. I interned with Snoke every summer throughout college, and then I went to work for him after graduation.”

He doesn’t tell her much about the nearly four years he worked for Snoke, and Rey doesn’t push. She just stays close to him and keeps her free hand in his as they pick out groceries, as if nothing’s amiss. Even when Ben tells her about the way Snoke would berate him for hours, even when he struggles to recount the ways Snoke tried to use him against Leia, Rey ignores the urge to drop everything and pull him to her and cry for him. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to break down in public, and if Ben had wanted comfort he wouldn’t have chosen to tell her this here.

“When he announced his plan to run against my mom in the next election, it got worse. He didn’t want me to just dig up information anymore; he wanted me to actively sabotage her, to use her trust and her love for me and turn it into something twisted, something to be exploited. I couldn’t do it… Rey, I couldn’t do it,” Ben mumbles into the curve of her neck, and she puts down her basket to hold him for just a moment.

Ben pulls away eventually – maybe two minutes later, maybe two hours later. “Around that time my mother started really looking into Snoke; she could pour actual resources into him now that he was her opponent. And when they found out that he was the one responsible for the leak, when they found out that even Palpatine had labelled Snoke too distasteful to work with, my dad didn’t even hesitate. He got a copy of the file, and he jumped right into his car and drove to my office. Just… walked right into the goddamn dragon’s lair because his son had been stupid enough to get trapped there and his sole priority was getting me out.”

This has to be it, then – the part where Ben nearly killed his father, the part where he finally snapped out of it and took the first step away from that life, the first step towards becoming the man she knows today.

“He confronted me right in front of Snoke, basically gave away every single bit of information my mom’s team had. When he was done I was just… I was in shock. It felt like I wasn’t even in my own body. Both he and Snoke thought it meant that I didn’t care, that all of it changed nothing for me. So he left, and Snoke… Snoke finally realized that the file in my father’s hand had enough information to lock him away for a very long time, and the fact that I now knew all of it made me more of a liability than anything. So he ordered me to intercept my father on his way out and run him down. An accident, he said they’d call it,” Ben scoffs, his voice sharp with bitterness. “I realized later he was never going to paint it that way; the end goal was for my father to die and for me to rot in prison.”

“But he failed,” Rey points out gently when Ben falls silent. She reaches up and curves her hand around his cheek, smiles when he closes his eyes and leans into her touch. “Snoke was wrong about you. You weren’t on his side, you didn’t kill your father, and you didn’t betray your mother. Everything he ever said about you was wrong, Ben. You are so much more than Snoke could ever have hoped to be, and he thought he could blind you to that and use your potential for his own gain instead but he was wrong.”

It seems like forever before Ben speaks, before she can breathe again. “Snoke was wrong about a lot of things,” he finally says, turning his head to press a kiss to the hand on his cheek. “Like my name. What kind of idiot calls himself Kylo Ren?”

He grins, and maybe her laugh is a little too loud but she’s too fucking relieved to care about the fact that they’re standing in the frozen food aisle with tears shining in their eyes and an abandoned basket at their feet.

“I like Ben Solo much better,” Rey tells him.

“Good,” Ben smiles. “Because Rey Ren would sound so stupid.”

It takes him about two seconds to realize what he’s just said, what he’s just implied and revealed and suggested all in one breath.

Rey kisses him before he can freak out.

The next morning, with her head on his chest and his arm around her waist, Rey says, “You know, you never did answer Maz’s question.”

“Hmm?” Ben asks, his hand still tracing indecipherable patterns into her side.

Rey turns around and props herself up with one arm, the ends of her hair falling over her shoulder to brush against Ben’s chest. “Maz’s question, during lunch. Do you know what you want to do yet?”

Because he’s due to complete his master’s soon, just a few months from now, and a year after that Rey will be done with her degree too, and who knows where life will take them after that?

“I’ve been thinking,” Ben says slowly, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Maybe my parents were right, when they sent me to Luke thinking that I had more in common with him than them.”

Rey furrows her brow as she tries to puzzle out what he’s saying. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… I like research. And I like teaching. And I like being on campus. So maybe I should follow in my uncle’s footsteps after all and just… stay here,” Ben shrugs. “In Coruscant U. Apply to the PhD program after I graduate next year, and see where that takes me.”

“So you’d be here for… years,” Rey realizes. “You’d be here after next year, and you’d be here to see me graduate, and if I get into grad school we could still be together.”

Ben laughs, a quiet, soft thing. “Sweetheart, I was always going to make sure we’d find a way to be together. I’m not letting go of you that easily.”

She kisses him then; it would be impossible not to, not with how gentle his voice is and how happy his eyes are. “But now it’s a sure thing. We’re going to have years together.”

“Years, huh?” Ben smirks, pulling her on top of him. “Someone’s planning ahead.”

Rey lets out a little yelp at being manhandled before she braces her hands against his chest for balance. “Oh, as if you don’t already have the rest of our lives together mapped out,” she scoffs, the effect somewhat ruined by the wide grin she can’t quite hide.

Ben stills, a soft smile blooming on his face as he looks up at her. “I do,” he admits quietly, rising up to meet her. “Of course I do,” Ben murmurs right before he kisses her, and Rey wonders if you can fall in love with someone after just a week or if it’s the kind of thing that creeps up on you over a period of two long years only to suddenly make itself known.

Either way, it’s there.

Finn and Poe aren’t due to arrive till tomorrow afternoon, which is the only reason Rey lets Ben pull her into his lap halfway through the movie. Because they’ve discussed it, how they’re going to let their best friends know, and it does not involve said best friends walking in on them while they’re making out on the couch.

“What the hell is happening here?” Finn demands, his voice unnaturally high.

Rey tries to put some distance between them, but one look from Ben is enough to communicate that he needs her to stay where she is until he can… calm down. “Um,” she says, twisting around to face Finn and Poe with her shirt clutched to her chest. “Hi. I thought you guys were coming home tomorrow.”

“There’s a storm rolling in so we decided to get ahead of it,” Poe explains calmly, bringing in the last of their bags and nudging Finn out of the way. “Didn’t you get our texts?”

Her phone is charging in her room, and who knows where Ben’s is. They’ve had more important things to focus on.

“Forget about that!” Finn tells Poe, pointing at the two of them. “This! We should be talking about this!”

“We’re…” Rey turns to Ben, and she doesn’t know how they ever planned to keep this from the guys for even five minutes when she smiles like an idiot every time she so much as looks at him. At least Ben’s not much better, and they both look like fools when Rey announces, “We’re together now.”

“Finally!” Poe exclaims, a smile tugging on his lips as he roots around his pockets for his phone. “I’m really happy for you guys and I want to know all about this, but first I’ve got to make a phone call real quick.” Phone in hand, Poe wanders into the kitchen area.

Finn quickly draws their attention back to him. “Together? We leave you alone for one week and you start dating? THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T LEAVE YOU UNSUPERVISED!”

From the kitchen, Poe calls out, “Finn, honey, I’m gonna need you to stop freaking out.” And then: “Hux? It’s Dameron. You owe me a hundred bucks. Yeah, dude. No shit. For real.”

“He knew?” Finn gasps, eyes torn between his boyfriend and the couple on the couch. “Even Hux knew? How the hell did I not see this coming? Poe, why didn’t you say anything–”

“For fuck’s sake, Hux, why would I lie about–”

“Poe! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Amidst the chaos of Finn’s increasingly-high voice and Poe’s angry one-sided conversation with Hux, Ben takes Rey’s hand and asks her, eyes bright and voice teasing, “So we’re officially dating, huh?”

Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course we are,” she tells him, pressing their foreheads together. And then, very deliberately, she uses a word she’s been avoiding all week, a word that means something, a word that she’s been wanting to apply to Ben for longer than she cares to admit:

“Hi, boyfriend.”

I'm not usually one for long and teary goodbyes (I mean, yes I am but I usually hold myself back) but this one's gonna go on for a bit, I think - just like this fic.

This was originally a ficlet idea, which then turned into a full-length one-shot, which then inspired a series of ficlets, ALL OF WHICH then turned into full-length chapters in their own right. As you can see, I'm a total disaster when it comes to keeping things short and sweet. Sweet and short? I don't know, words don't make sense to me anymore, not after seven straight days of daily updates.

But it was all worth it, because you guys have been the loveliest readers I've ever had the privilege to write for. I think I'll miss interacting with you daily just as much as I'll miss writing these characters every day. Thank you so much for checking back day after day, for taking the time to leave all of these wonderful comments, and for reading my tooth-rotting fluff. I know, I know, writing should be its own reward, but let's be real: your enthusiasm and support have been the real reward here. So again, thank you so very, very much.

Moving on: I'll be taking a short break to recover from this fic, but I'll be back in a few days to participate in Reylo Week. I'm planning to write two fics for Thursday's prompt (mythology) and one for Saturday's (soulmate), all three of which I'm very excited about. I hope to see you guys then! In the meantime, if you ever wanna say hi or just scream about Reylo or anything, hit me up. I'd love to stay in touch with everyone.

Next up, for seven decades or so: Rey, Ben, and a lifetime of happiness.

#reylo #ben solo x rey #ben x rey #kylo ren x rey #kylo x rey #modern au #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #fic: sign up now for a free trial #my fics

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rewrite-the-wrongs · 4 years

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ever get in a fight with your own brain? / ADHD & RSD

I spoke in my first post about the pace at which I create, and the constant mental back-and-forth I go through when reading or writing. The thing I didn’t mention, though, is that it can take a nearly-insurmountable effort to get to the point that I’m actually producing anything.

For instance: After I wrote the first two sentences of this post and four words of the next, I left my computer on my bed and went to have a shit. While there, I spent about fifty minutes on my phone (it’s no wonder I have fucking hemorrhoids, my poor butthole). Even as I continue typing now, I can’t stop flipping to other tabs. Sometimes I even pick up my phone and look at the same fucking apps I have open in Chrome.

I spent about three years talking with a therapist about this same issue nearly every week. She would ask me, “Easy, do you still want to be a writer?” and I would feel this horrible knot in my stomach, like if I said Yes I would be lying, even though that’s just not the case. No matter what I would press through the discomfort and say, “Yes. This is what I want. It’s what I love.” But something in my assertion felt hollow.

The question becomes: Why? Why in the living hell does my brain try so goddamn hard to prevent me from doing a thing that I spent countless hours practicing as a child straight up through my early twenties? Why has it taken me so long--I’m 27 now--to get back on the horse, even when I know that holding all of this creativity in can very literally make me ill?

I present to you an article a friend of mine shared a while back, and the first time I considered the very real possibility that I’m dealing with ADHD that is most certainly comorbid with my depression and anxiety:

https://www.webmd.com/add-adhd/rejection-sensitive-dysphoria#1

That’s a rudimentary rundown of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), a common symptom of ADHD. Basically, rejection (perceived or genuine) can trigger a stress response, which subsequently can lead to extreme emotional responses to said rejection.

Nobody likes to be rejected, but this shit takes it a step further, into a place that can be utterly debilitating. When I try to get creative, I often freeze up or get incredibly sad after a short time working. This is because, on some semiconscious level, I’ve convinced myself my writing will be rejected before anybody’s ever had the chance to read it. I completely overwhelm myself with the idea of an audience--I can’t help but think about how hard it is to be published, or how huge the internet is and how easy it is to be drowned out in a sea of voices, or how my absurdly limited human brain can’t possibly come up with something nobody’s thought of before.

This issue becomes even worse when I have a personal connection to my audience. I went to school for writing, and I was surrounded by talented people, some of whom I’ve maintained contact with. Many of them publish pieces in lit mags or online pretty frequently, and a couple have books out. I’ve contacted two of them directly to ask about writing reviews/essays on their work, and they’ve enthusiastically said yes. Unfortunately--and predictably, if you’re following along--that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Those messages both went out some two years ago.

I actually came out to one of those two writers on a whim recently, and mentioned/apologized for the lack of review--and she’d forgotten about it completely.

It used to be that most of my rejection sensitivity was aimed at my lack of social grace. I was a pretty hapless kid, lost in my own thoughts, almost never tracking the conversation around me. I would frequently offer non sequitur distractions in class, to the chagrin of my teachers and often my classmates. I can distinctly recall many occasions during which I

1) Patiently waited with my hand up for ten solid minutes, thinking only about whatever random fact or opinion the conversation had brought to mind;

2) Relayed said fact or opinion;

3) Was corrected or chastised, either by the teacher or kids around me or both;

4) Put my head down on my desk and began to quietly cry and hope nobody would ever look at me again.

But it wasn’t just in the classroom that I struggled to be social. Cue an image of me watching at least a solid hundred kids and parents do the Cha Cha Slide while I sat entirely alone in a corner of the gym. Cue an image of another gym, where I was watching my younger sister and several friends play in our elementary school’s steel drum band alongside every band in our county’s program; all of the players gathered on bleachers opposite our audience bleachers, and a few non-players traipsed over to sit and socialize, and I sat there thinking about crossing that gym the entire time I was there. Cue an image of a moment at a swimming pool when I misspoke and offended a friend-of-a-friend, and tried to make myself apologize but just sat there and felt queasy, and I never found the courage to speak to either person again.

When I got to high school, things got worse before they got better. I became so stressed out by rejection that I began vomiting simply because I was around somebody I was attracted to who didn’t reciprocate my feelings. In the span of maybe two months, I dropped from a hundred eighty pounds to about one-fifteen. RSD literally nearly killed me.

At this point I was writing fervently, producing upwards of a hundred thousand words between a few different shitty novel concepts. My art was the one place I could go that rejection couldn’t touch me, the one thing I would share with anybody who would have a look. I enrolled in those writing workshop classes I mentioned last post. Whenever I had a spare moment that wasn’t reserved for video games or books or my eventual girlfriend, I was creating. And my brain and I kept at it that way for years.

This is the internet, so you’ve heard of the Dunning-Kruger Effect, yeah?

I found myself very firmly at the peak Mt. Ignorance when I entered college. My high school program had prepared me extremely well, and before long I was singled out by more than one professor, and even a couple upperclassmen. It went to my head quickly.

Enter a very tumultuous, extremely unhealthy relationship that began with me cheating on my high school sweetheart (no way that could go wrong). By the start of spring semester, this older woman realized she’d invented a version of me in her head I couldn’t possibly live up to, and I--being a deeply closeted egg, still, and steeped in learned misogyny--collapsed in on myself and turned into a borderline stalker for a couple of months. (I have since apologized, and we’re still in touch, albeit it very, very distantly.)

I deeply internalized this rejection, to the point that I started to denigrate myself as an artist, and my brain connected RSD more inextricably to my writing. When I hit sophomore year, my confidence had begun to waver, and even though I was still learning and improving, by the time I was a junior that confidence had all but dissolved. I was flat on my ass in what a political scientist friend of mine calls THE VALLEY OF DESPAIR, or the trough at the very bottom of the Dunning-Kruger curve.

This lack of confidence culminated in an independent study that I should have failed. It was spring semester of my junior year. I had the opportunity to work one-on-one with my favorite professor and, in my opinion, the most talented writer we had to learn from. But I was nearly out of creative energy, and I found it nearly impossible to write anything I felt would be good enough, especially for someone I idolized so intensely. I wound up sending him stories I’d written for a fiction workshop the semester before, and even then I wasn’t able to complete the course. That professor left my grade unmarked until I graduated, at which point he aced me out of what was probably a mixture of pity and a need to keep our small private school’s GPA high.

Senior year, I found poetry, which gave me the opportunity to produce less in terms of volume. I stayed in poetry the whole year, and wrote less than I had since I was eight. When I left school, I stalled out almost entirely.

This is all a rather long-winded way of saying that my brain is my own worst enemy when it comes to writing. RSD leaves me prone to catastrophizing everything, and the general trajectory of my life felt downward for a long time.

But I went to therapy, and I came out to my partner just about a year ago now, and I’m happier every day. I’m relearning the patience with myself and my artistic process. I’m pushing myself to keep learning and gaining experience and knowledge. I’ve got a couple different creative projects going. And I’m here on Tumblr, blogging for the second time in a week (ish--where the hell are the time stamps on these posts?!).

Every time I start to feel the crushing weight of the world above me--every time I feel like I’ll never climb out of the Valley of Despair, like I couldn’t possibly contribute anything good to the world--I’m going to remind myself of this image:

TL;DR: Fuck you, brain. You’re not the boss of me. I’m a writer, and I will remain one. And my writing is for me. Any other readers are a bonus.

Much love, y’all--

Easy

#writing #ADHD #RSD #Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria #process #creativity #diary

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dreaming-of-seth-blog · 7 years

Text

Meant for a Life With You

Chapter 2: A Game of Cat and Mouse

A/N If you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy this weird ass plot! Just wanted to write something different.

______________________________

Seth’s point of view:

I follow closely behind the ambulance all the way to the hospital, speeding the entire time. The drive felt like hours, when in reality it was minutes. When we finally arrive I immediately jump out of my car and as my feet hit the ground I see them pulling her out of the back ambulance on the stretcher.

As I begin to rush over to her, I hear one of the EMT’s speaking to a woman in a lab coat, “We have an unconscious 27 year old female hit by a car. Injuries include a head wound on the right side of the head, a few broken ribs, broken left ankle and wrist, possible broken collarbone, and there are non-emergency contusions all over arms and legs.” QMy heart drops and my breath hitches. I can’t believe that I’m responsible for so much damage. The guilt is eating away at me while the hatred for myself is growing by the goddamn second. I can’t take my eyes off the unknown women they’re wheeling through the automatic doors. The other EMT whispers to the doctor and points to me as I rush to follow them inside. By the look on the doctor’s face, I assume he is telling her that I’m the one responsible.

Before I can get even remotely close to the stretcher, another doctor steps in front, grabs me by my shoulders and says, “Sir, sir you have to stay back.”

“But I have to know if she’s going to be ok.” I say eyes welling up.

“Sir you can’t go in there. I need you to stay here in the emergency room for the police. They’re going to need to take your statement.” he says.

“Will I be able to get updates on her condition?” I say hopeful not even concerned about dealing with the police.

“I will see what I can do,” He can hear the desperation in my voice, “but I can’t promise you anything at this point. Please, sit and wait here sir.”

I sit and wait in silence for hours. I go back and forth between staring at my hands and the tiled floor of the ER.

As I’m taking my jacket off and throwing it on the chair next to me two cops walk in. They walk up to the nurse behind the desk. He points to me and they head over in my direction. They lead me to a separate room and we talk for almost an hour. They take my statement. I tell them everything that happened. They breathalyze me. I have to do a blood test to confirm there was nothing in my system.

After they leave I make my way back to the ER. When I return to my seat, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees rubbing my face with my hands. I leave my face laying in my hands still exhausted and I stay like this for a decent amount of time. After who knows how long, I hear the sound of shoes on that tiled floor walk up in front of me. I look up expecting one of the doctor’s with an update on the nameless ballerina, but in fact, it was not. It was a fiery-red haired women staring me at me with tears running down her face. Before I could open my mouth, her arm reaches back and she punches me straight in the chin with full force. A shock wave of pain overcomes my entire face.

Before I can even process what was going on, I stand up from my seat while holding my face I ask, “What the hell?”

“You idiot! You did this! You could’ve killed her.” She pushes me back by my chest. Everyone in the room was now staring at us.

I realize she knows the woman I hit. The first words out of my mouth were, “I’m sorry it was an accident! I’m so sorry.” The pain from her hit was now increasing dramatically from talking

“You’re a fucking monster.” tears streaming down her face even faster.

“Lisa! Stop.” another woman comes running up to her and pulls her away from me. She’s much shorter than the one who hit me. “He’s not worth it!” They look at each other “Come on.”

They start to walk away. The one she called Lisa looks back at me and says, “You better hope she makes it out of this fucker.”

I fall back into my seat. A nurse walks over to me with a bag of ice. He holds it out to me and I take it. “Thank you.” I smile and place the bag up to my jaw. I tilt my head back and wait for news.

______________________________

Nikki’s point of view:

Waking up that night was the worst experience I’ve ever had. I didn’t know where I was. Every inch of my body was in pain. My head was pounding. Then I remembered what happened. I closed my eyes tight to try to forget. My left leg was raised and in a cast. My left arm was also raised and in a cast. “Fuck.” I try to say, but my throat was dry and sore. From all my years of watching Greys Anatomy, I was assuming it was from being intubated. I attempt to move but feel an abrupt sharp pain on my left side. I grab my ribs with my good hand to brace the pain. The pain was so horrible I instantly start bawling my eyes out. I start to panic and become claustrophobic in the casts. Getting restless, I don’t know what to do so I just throw the finger pulse detector off my hand and all of the machines go crazy. I knew this would cause a bunch of people come running in. Two nurses come in to make sure my heart's still beating but during all this chaos I see an old familiar face at the foot of my bed. With tears running down my face I ask, “Doctor Thompson?” very weakly and slightly out of breath.

“Hello Nicole.” He walks over to me and grabs my good hand. He says it with a smile that somehow makes me feel better and calms me down. Dr. Thompson was my pediatrician/surgeon and is also my father’s best friends. He took out my tonsils and my appendix, and was at every single one of my birthday parties when I was younger. He was like an uncle to me. He reminded me of home which made my pain disappear for a few seconds. A nurse brings we water now that I was awake. It felt like heaven to quench my dry throat. Now that I could speak more comfortably, I had calmed down and stopped crying, I had questions.

“How bad is it?” I ask petrified.

“Well, you got lucky kid, it could have been a lot worse. You broke four ribs which should heal up nicely. You hit your head pretty bad but, nothing to be alarmed about, your scans all came up clear. I do want you to see a neurosurgeon in two weeks for a follow up just to be safe. You also had a very small hairline fracture on your collarbone, so be careful with that. Your left side took a bad beating. You also broke your wrist, and you ankel on the left side, your wrist was a intra-articular fracture, your ankle break was fortunately a stable lateral malleolar fracture...”

“My ankle…What does that mean for ballet?” I interrupt. My voice was shaking at this point because I know he know’s, how important dancing is to me.

“You should be able to dance again, but you’ll need to rest for a while and do a lot of physical therapy. That means regular checkups before you can be cleared to put any extra stress on the leg. But it’s critical to wait until I give you the go ahead. I know ballet is your life but if you ever want that ankle to be as strong you really have to listen to me and not rush the process.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I say to him with as much energy as my body can handle.

Just as he is giving me the amazing news the lights of my life come shining in. I screech “My babies!.” Aurora and Lisa came running to my side. Dr. T. excused himself from the room and the three of us talk for a while. The nurses and doctors checked on me regularly.

After a while I have to ask,“Now where’s the fucker that did this to me? I heard the nurses whispering he was waiting for me in the ER.”

“Honey there’s something we have to tell you, but you can’t freak out.” Aurora says while looking at me like she’s about to tell me that Santa’s not real.

Lisa gripped my good hand tightly, “It’s Seth MacFarlane.” Lisa closes her eyes and says barely above a whisper.

“Good joke, Elle.” I say rolling my eyes and using her nickname out of pure exhaustion.

“Nikki, she’s not kidding.” Aurora says in the most serious tone I’ve ever heard her speak in. It scared me. “Lisa punched the shit out of him for you though.”

“Stop kidding around.” I say “You know how obsessed with him I am.” I stare at them.

They both look at each other, then back at me. “Come on, stop”

“Wait, so you two really expect me to believe, the man I pretend to be married to in my head, who I’m constantly talking about, whose shows I watch religiously, whose music I worship, who I would basically murder someone to meet… almost killed me… and almost ruined my career for ever?”

They both look at me and in unison say “Yeah.”

The man I’ve been completely obsessed with for over five years now, Seth mother fucking MacFarlane… What are the odds, he would be the one that hit me with his car. I say looking up to the sky, “God if you’re real. Thank you.”

A look almost as evil as the Grinch’s smile comes over my face.

“I don’t like that look.” Aurora states.

“Shhhhhh, you know that's her evil genius look. She's planning something good.” she smirks.

“Get me my doctor please. I’ve got a billionaire to fuck with.” my smile gets bigger and my mind is racing with evil thoughts.

#seth macfarlane #seth macfarlane fanfiction #family guy #american dad

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