#And her inability to cope driving her insane

[postsfromthedark]

claudia has made it very hard to excuse her war crimes, but I shall continue to do so

[ravenkinnie]

I wanna expand on the anon who pointed out ppl's overreading of powder's 'i just want to help!' line. I also think because of that, fans overly associate powder with jinx's last traces of humanity/sanity/moral conscience, and thats a really frustrating interpretation since thats exactly the same identity splitting coping mechanism Vi and Ekko used on her like why are we repeating the same mistake they did-

and idk if this is just me? like, fandom likes to say that jinx=powder, powder=jinx, but the other ways they talk about her makes it clear that fans are biased to the 'powder' side, because, as said before, mistakenly seeing that side as the 'humane' side to jinx. or even the side to jinx that brings stability when....absolutely not? because powder is the side that contains all of her childhood memories corrupted from trauma that haunts and drives her insane. like when jinx tries to think back to vi's encouraging words in the boxing machine scene, the memories didnt comfort her. just bring her more anguish.

imo, jinx on the other hand is the by-product of powder, the destructive coping mechanism of those traumatic memories, guilt, and misery. you cant kill 'jinx' as long as 'powder' exists. and if you kill 'powder' there's nothing left. no side is ideal to be favored, because both 'powder' and 'jinx' are corruptive, and thats really the biggest tragedy in the whole powder/jinx dilemma

((this rant went longer than i expected i am so sorry pls feel free to ignore me if you want-))

nooo I love getting juicy meta like this in my inbox I discover strong opinions I didn't even know I had

but YES YES YES I also think it's not just vi and ekko who think of jinx in terms of this split identity, silco and jinx very much do as well. I think she probably got it from him really, like when he says "I let a weak man die" - you can't just kill your past self and I think his relationship with jinx shows that that 'dirty little thing' that weak kid will always be inside him yk

the difference is ofc, that silco accepts jinx, the identity that jinx considers herself to be now. but that's, ofc, the way she conceptualized herself but it's not how identities work. I think it's important in her relationships that someone understands that this is how she sees herself, like vi's inability to accept that creates this rift between them. but when you consider jinx from the outside it's exactly that - there's no jinx vs powder, there's just this whole person who is a product of her trauma and the years that came before and after that.

also like. powder was 12 hdhdhshhsbj I think judging jinx's 'humane' side by who she was at 12 is just an error by itself. 12 year old patrycja is lightyears away from 25 yo patrycja, 12 yo jinx is lightyears away from 19 yo jinx. there's no saving powder or getting powder back because powder is just who jinx was at 12 and she just. grew up, with her twisted development due to trauma and the insane environment she would have grown up in but still, she grew into the person she is now

also powder was 12 with an interest in explosives and designing nail bombs to throw at enforcers I think people exaggerate her innocence BDHDHDJJS she was more meek and afraid of getting hurt and outside violence definitely but idk about y'all, I definitely see adult jinx in her hshdhsj

[felikatze]

give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

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okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

[movieswithkevin27]

Phantom Thread

A deliciously twisted, shocking, and perversely beautiful work from director Paul Thomas Anderson, the meticulously crafted and detailed Phantom Thread is perhaps Anderson’s most perfect film with nary a flaw in its execution. It is a film where Anderson is in complete control, strictly following the course he has set rather than allowing the film to wander a bit as in the esoteric Inherent Vice. This is a film always building up to its roaring conclusion, dabbling in dullness - purposely - and repetition - purposely - for the purpose of impact. This film about a tailor and clothing designer named Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) is perhaps one of the more shocking films of the year, setting up a typical romance in which Reynolds is an unending bachelor who kicks women out of his home once he tires of them, all while possessing a charm that always enables him to net a new woman to replace the old one. The new woman this time is the young Alma (Vicky Kreips). Coming into the home and immediately showing she is not another woman who will bend to his every whim, Alma’s presence upsets the balance of power in the home, leaving Reynolds spinning and attempting to adjust. Meanwhile, his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville) is more welcoming of the change, recognizing the great possibility it holds for this regimented and meticulous lifestyle her brother lives. Thematically and narratively twisted, Phantom Thread’s relationship is equal parts beautiful and toxic, which is perhaps what makes the film so confounding, abrasive, and difficult to describe.

At the center of this film is Reynolds Woodcock. As a fashion designer, there are few in the world who are more talented. He is a true visionary, pouring his every heart and soul into the design and execution. He expects the same from those around him, spending his entire day designing or thinking about clothing. His entire life is centered around his work with him entirely unwilling to allow anything to disrupt his regimented and routine lifestyle. Yet, much of this is due to his own immaturity. Early on in the film, Anderson establishes the death of Reynolds’ mother being one of the most defining moments of his life. Having made her a wedding dress and now seeing her in his sleep, Reynolds admits that he feels as though his mother is getting closer to him more now than forever, almost watching over him in a truly comforting way. To this day, he has a lock of her hair in the lining of his clothes, as a means of keeping her close to him at all times. Reynolds is the true embodiment of a man still unable to cope with the loss of their parent, acting as though he were a mama’s boy from beginning to end. Yet, this grief and constant mourning has put him in a spot of constant hurt. He defends himself from feeling attached, lashes out when his routine is disrupted, and expects the world to bend to his every whim as he was both unable to control his mother’s death and his own response to her death. His sister Cyril sees this and has been the one by his side ever since he made his mother that wedding dress so many years ago. For him, Cyril is his rock and guiding light, while being the only one around able to help him maintain a sense of normalcy in his life. If she is not around, he is lost as though he were a child. This immaturity and inability to truly control his life renders Reynolds little more than a manchild, often spiraling into petulant outbursts more fighting for a little boy than one of the world’s most renowned fashion designers. This is a character who is deeply flawed, in large part due to his underlying mental issues that guide his life into one in which he is consistently looking for somebody to help him take control but unwilling to take a chance on losing that person.

This is where Alma comes into his life. Though Reynolds pulls the same stunts with her as with every other woman in her life, as he seeks to control her every action at breakfast and aims to kick her out of the home when he senses that she is upsetting the balance of the home, Cyril will not allow him to exercise this control as before. Rather, she sees what Alma represents. Not only is she a young muse for this experienced and elder statesman of the fashion world, but Alma is the only woman he has been with who understands Reynolds’ mental issues, shares his mental issues, and is willing to stand up to them in a forceful way. Yet, even then, she longs for a bit more than he is willing to give or understand. A dinner for two she plans goes awry when it violates his routine for the day, leaving him all alone with her and forced to eat food in a style he does not enjoy, only leading to an incessant tension in the room that eventually boils over. It is only through this - watching this man refuse to eat his vegetables - that Alma finally learns how to win over this man: she must nurture him and, in effect, become his mother.

Though she purposely makes him ill via mushrooms - alongside John Denver songs, feeding childish men poisonous mushrooms is one of the great trends of cinema in 2017 - she nurses him gingerly back to health. She knocks him on his ass and forces him to see her as his caretaker. She puts herself in a new light, giving him what he has wanted for so long ever since his mother died; as he got his mother back. Alma’s lack of fear even leads to her revealing the poisoning to Reynolds, right as she poisons him a second time. However, he does not fight and even finds great pleasure in being made ill only to be nursed back to health by his new wife. In fact, he only ever married her because of her ability to tap into his burning desire to be cared for and stripped of his defensiveness. He is a man stuck with the mind of a child, always seeking ways to become subservient and weak when confronted with true power. Alma, as such, is the only one who stands up to him. She purposely makes noise at breakfast to break him from his rhythm and focus. She forces him to go out dancing with her. This power balance is one in which she, from the very beginning, usurped him and refused to allow him to regain dominance, in fact taking every opportunity she can find to re-assert her dominance. While Alma may not literally be his mother - even if resurrection existed in the world of the film - the implication of this relationship is set throughout the film. Not only is she convinced that they were meant to find one another no matter any obstacles in their way, but little touches such as calling him a “hungry boy” in the beginning, caring for him, cooking for him, cleaning up his messes, and more, fosters his emotional dependency and plays on his burning desire to be mothered again. For this man whose mother’s death forever changed his life in a negative way, leading him to become rather fear aggressive and defensive at every turn, Alma represents a way to recreate the love and tenderness given to him by his mom. For him, it is as though she was sent to him by his mother as a means of keeping him in line and to help him feel as though his life is under control once again.

This control and power are certainly elements that Reynolds has long sought, not only in his personal life but also in his professional life. For his entire life, he has listened to what women want their dresses to look like and what styles he should use. He exercises some of his creative muscle, but always seeks to feel powerful via making them a beautiful dress. As such, his meticulous planning, brainstorming, drawing, and stitching, all serve as Reynolds’ own way of keeping a measure of control and order to his fractured psyche, as he keeps his mind on the end goal of making a beautiful dress. He is unconcerned with the eventual feedback - even if he listens to their initial wishes - but is unwilling to exert some measure of control or pride in his work. Yet, through Alma this changes. This is a woman who fights for him, sticks up for him, and values his own brand image more than he would ever be able to express. He cares, but is too bashful, reserved, and awkward to be able to fight for himself. Through Alma, however, he is able to express some possessiveness over his designs, even taking away a dress from a woman well beneath his standard of class. This ties in perfectly to his defensiveness - likely derived from his belief he lacks control over his own life - with Alma’s ability to control and assert her dominance leading to this man finally feeling safe, confident, and self-assured. This is yet another piece of this toxic relationship that further fosters his dependency on her, as she gives him something he so long sought after his mom died: the ability to assert himself and feel a sense of control. He was able to simulate it by having Cyril do his bidding or by kicking out women he tired of, but it was no more than false bravado, just as his proclamation that he would never get married was. This is a man lacking direction, only able to have this given to him by a woman who absolutely certain of how to wrap him around her finger.

The odd part about this deeply toxic relationship in Phantom Thread is just how enchanting it can become. It is clear from the very beginning that these two are both on the same wavelength - i.e. both are insane - and somehow meant for one another. As Alma dotes on Reynolds or as Reynolds measures her for a dress on their very first date, the relationship has a certain charm to it that makes it all quite kosher and enchanting. It is undoubtedly Anderson’s intent to accomplish this first before shocking the audience with the toxicity of the relationship and the way in which Alma is able to control Reynolds, but even as a slight misdirection, Phantom Thread manages to create an endearing romance. The key to this romance, of course, being the drive to do whatever it takes to keep the person you love in your life. Knowing his reputation, Alma is always armed and ready for when Reynolds tells her to leave. However, she is stubborn. She refuses to give up on the relationship, always fighting for him to be out of his comfort zone and to push himself beyond the boundaries he has built for himself. She does not want him to be content, but rather always looking to grow. As time progresses, Reynolds winds up doing just this, eventually admitting that one must grow at the risk of dying if they do not when he asks her to marry him. Though Phantom Thread winds up striking a deeply troubling and off-beat dependency between these two characters, it first establishes this pairing as being somehow right for one another. This indefinable connection enables the film’s final shock to truly pack a punch when the audience realizes what is occurring and what will continue to occur.

In conjunction with this romance, Phantom Thread unexpectedly turns into a romantic comedy at times with how funny many of its lines are. Largely due to Daniel Day-Lewis’ dry delivery or the hilarity of watching his facial expressions as Alma makes noise at breakfast, the comedy in Phantom Thread is never upfront, but is noticeable enough that is impossible to not laugh. It comes in a film that is often quite stuffy as a means of breaking up the thickness of the atmosphere, while also providing the audience an opportunity to truly revel in the general absurdity of these characters. Both romantic leads are positively psychotic, but so greatly entertaining that it is impossible to look away. These characters’ everyday conversations, actions, and interactions, therefore wind up taking a great comedic bend that Anderson smartly embraces, delivering great wit - such as Reynolds remarking how they would probably dig up a girl buried in one of his dresses in order to sell it - and simple situational humor that enables the film to truly utilize its off-beat tone and style to deliver consistent entertainment throughout.

Visually, Phantom Thread is as excellent as one would expect from an Anderson film. Utilizing great costume design to capture the extravagance and luxury of Woodcock’s design work, while relying on Anderson’s trademark tracking shots and symmetry - the lushness of the costume design proving to be a great way for Anderson use his love of symmetry in capturing the beauty and elegance of Woodcock's work - for a lot of the film’s best shots, Phantom Thread is a lushly captured film that truly exudes luxury and class. Yet, perhaps the most interesting element of this is the consistent presence of white in the House of Woodcock. At all times, light is pouring in from the windows, helping to cultivate this really heavenly and otherworldly feel to this home in which so much of the action is set. Even in the evening or early morning, the plain white walls of the home and the emphasis on white wedding dress Reynolds made for his mother and the princess in the film seem to hint that this overwhelming presence of white in the film’s visuals is wholly intentional. At the very least, this white is yet another way in which Anderson manages to subvert expectations. By bathing so much of the film in light, it gives off a very warm and comforting feeling to the audience. Yet, in scenes where Alma speaks to the doctor at night about her relationship with Reynolds or as she dotes on him in the darkness of his room, Anderson manages to create a perfect juxtaposition that highlights the dark undercurrent of this relationship. This difference in lighting and the film's plodding pace combine  to enable Anderson to expertly build suspense through the audience's discomfort. At every turn, something feels off with Anderson consistently building visual cues to build up to the final reveal. Furthermore, the film’s score plays perfectly into these expectations as the excellent score from Jonny Greenwood hitting all the right crescendos and emotional swells along the way that further enables Anderson to put the audience in a position where they believe this to be just another artist and his muse romance film. Working in perfect harmony with the visuals, Greenwood’s score is one that absolutely nails the tone and atmosphere of this film.

A twisted, perverse, and deliciously entertaining film, Phantom Thread is yet another great accomplishment for director Paul Thomas Anderson. It is a film that undoubtedly demands multiple watches to truly grasp, but on an initial watch, it is hard to not come away impressed with the psychology at play with the character of Reynolds Woodcock and the way in which this innocent and sheepish Alma can turn into such a figure of dominance. A role reversal - with the boisterous Reynolds subservient to the shy Alma - Anderson manages to play on the audience’s expectations of where the film is going to wind up perfectly, enabling this to be no mere romantic drama with touches of comedy. Rather, it is a film that often plays like a psychological drama, exploring the underlying mother-related issues of this fashion genius and the twisted way in which the woman he loves is able to utilize this to exert control over him. This funny, slow, and absolutely gripping film, truly lingers in the air as the credits roll, leaving the audience to attempt to come to terms with what they just witnessed.  At the end of the day though, this is truly Daniel Day-Lewis, Vicky Kreips, and Lesley Manville's show. Capturing their respective characters flaws, motivations, and demeanors in a way that few actors can, all three truly make this film come alive.

[hogwartswelcomesyou]

The Mods Discuss: Severus Snape

Tory: Okay, so first off, I would start with this contention – Snape is a prick, but he’s done some noble things. And more importantly, those traits do not have to be mutually exclusive. 

Star: To me, you can like a character, and still loathe them as a person. Snape in the real world would make me really angry, and he is completely evil, but as a character, he is incredibly well written, super complex and very flawed, but also has a lot of strengths. He’s done some very awful things, but he has also done some good. To me though, the bad outweighs the good.

Tory: Me personally, I wouldn’t say he’s evil – just completely and totally selfish. He has a very narrow and shallow world-view, and that means that he has an underdeveloped sense of empathy for others. I’ve known people like that, and they can definitely be frustrating. I guess it comes down to the question: is a good action done for a bad reason still good?

Star: bullying loads of students and exposing Lupin as a lycanthrope isn’t evil to you? Lupin was never able to find a job after that, and his assigning the paper on werewolves meant Lupin had to read essays from his students describing how to kill him, and he was likely overrun with panic of a student working it out. He also told Voldemort he didn’t care about Harry or James, so long as Lily lived, which is giving Voldy PERMISSION to kill a toddler, who has done nothing to him. As awful as it is, I can kind of understand his willingness to give up James, seeing James was awful to him at least the one time, but LETTING SOMEONE MURDER A BABY? And to answer you Tory, I don’t think so. If there is 0 other option and you absolutely must do something bad to achieve a good end, it’s not as bad, but if you do it out of laziness or inability to think ahead, then no.

Tory: Well, admittedly, the only one who actually finished the werewolf essay was Hermione, but that’s beside the point. I guess for me I personally have difficulty labeling someone as “evil” unless they are beyond redemption or any shred of goodness. Voldemort is evil. Bellatrix is evil. Umbridge is evil. Snape is a piss-poor excuse of a human being, capable of great cruelty and spite, but he also had the ability to love and was capable of great courage and selflessness. I guess for me I just see “evil” as an all-black term, with no potential for moral grayness – and Snape I do see as a gray character. 

Star: okay, so he’s not quite on the level of Umbridge or Voldy, but I still think he’s a gutless person. The fact that Neville is more scared of Snape than Bellatrix (the woman who tortured his parents into insanity!!), says a lot to me. And when it comes to Snape and Lily, i think for him it was more obsession and idolization of a person, I really don’t think it was love. And even if only ONE student completed the essay, he still had to read his best student who could have worked it out and turned him in, explaining how best to kill him, which would scare me silly. 

Tori: I’m also not comfortable labeling someone as evil, but for different reasons. ‘Evil’ is a subjective term that people can manipulate to fit their desires. In everyone’s eyes, the other person is evil. I do understand that there are characters, such as Voldemort, who are written to be the embodiment of evil. However, there were also circumstances that were beyond his control in the first place. (Ex: he had no capability to love.) To me, Snape is not an evil character. He certainly is not good, as we see him time and time again be emotionally abusive to students. I also agree with Star, I don’t think he actually loved Lily, but rather was infatuated with her. Love is an active choice, and Snape actively turned his back on Lily, the people she cared for, and the things that mattered to her. It was only until he realized that his choices were going to lead to her death that he felt remorse. Snape is not a good guy; he’s a jerk with some childish grudges that he needs to learn to let go. He’s also not completely bad either; he’s able to see the error of his ways. I think we as a fandom should stop trying to paint him as absolutely heroic or demonic, and just let him be the multi-faceted complex character that he was. He was man who made very bad decisions, and attempted to atone for them. 

Jinxy: I agree with Tori and Tory. I think that Snape definitely is a morally gray character who truly isn’t evil, but isn’t really good either. He does some awful things, he does some not-so-awful things. He recognizes that he did some bad things, but he was also the person who decided to make those decisions in the first place. He was very cruel to Harry for most of the series, and he’s driven heavily by his feud with James and feelings(?) for Lily. He does some seriously not okay stuff, but we do slowly see him try to correct his wrongdoings. I don’t like Snape as a person, he truly is cruel and mean, no matter what he does to try and fix it. But, as a character, he is one of the most intriguing, complex, characters that I have seen, which is something that I think that the fandom needs to recognize more. Someone can be a terrible person, and still be an interesting, complex character!

MoMo: Snape will always drive me insane. I was never a huge fan of him. He was rude and let his emotions control him and that’s not something I can find myself admiring. However, I’ve seen many arguments supporting his actions due to his past, and not just based upon his desire for Lily; he was abused, and everyone copes with abuse differently. On top of that, he’s sometimes interpreted as a creep, because of how he felt for Lily, but is it really so unreasonable? When she said she didn’t have romantic feelings for him and asked for him to back off, that’s exactly what he did. All he wanted was a friend, and that’s exactly what he never got. I’d be bitter too.

Boudica: Snape…..I definitely have no love for the man. While I support the efforts that where made for the Order where great. Overwhelming it’s a hard no. Everyone who’s ever been abused has a choice to make. How will I move on from my own trauma? Will I break the cycle or continue it? At nearly every point where he could have he didn’t. Color me not impressed.

Tori: I think we’ve come to an agreement that Snape definitely isn’t a good guy. I suppose it boils down to your interpretation of evil. 

Tory: I think that’s fair. To change gears slightly, I actually find the debate about whether or not Snape loved Lily quite compelling. I personally am in the middle – he definitely did not always put Lily’s feelings first, but he did still put a lot on the line solely out of devotion to her and her cause. Coming from someone who has people in my family who love me despite also consistently being self-centered and completely ignorant about my wishes, I could believe that someone can love another person while also not fully understanding everything love entails. And I could also believe that one’s definition of love can change. As an example, Darth Vader tries at first to coax Luke to the Dark Side so they can “rule the galaxy together as father and son” – I would argue in Vader’s self-focused, Dark-Side-corrupted head, he is showing love for his son, because he wants them on the same side, rather than as enemies. Later, however, he learns the true meaning of love when he sacrifices himself to save Luke. Even my own father has tried to pressure me into certain career paths out of misguided love. So I do feel like love can be expressed badly or not always fully understood.

Squish: Hm…Honestly I think everyone has these stages when it comes to Harry Potter (about Snape). The first stage would be hating him because you’ve only read some of the books and you may think he’s evil. The second, would be thinking he’s the hero of the whole thing, which may be true in some way (barely but okay). Finally, realizing that even though he did some good towards the end, he was a total creep who never got over his childhood crush. He even went so far to abuse her son because he reminded Snape of the man she truly loved. I’m sorry if I’m being harsh, but I really don’t like Snape as a character. It’s been brought to my attention of what it might’ve been like if Harry was a female, maybe looking more like Lily. I’m not saying that he would’ve gone as far as what you may be thinking now, but like… imagine. Me personally, think Snape is very messed up as a whole. He even only really helped when he was dying, by the way.

Tori: I think you can definitely care about someone without loving them. Love is not a feeling, it’s a choice, and I think one thing JK Rowling definitely did was challenge the notion of love, and make us analyze whether or not the relationships in Harry Potter were OK. Yes, I think Snape cared about Lily, but he didn’t love her because he never respected her. Respect is the key of any relationship. If you don’t have it, it’s not healthy. 

Jinxy: Maybe it wasn’t love but more of a lust? Desire? Obsession? Long after she dies, he still brings her up. He never really moves on from her, and I think that that’s really unhealthy, both for him and his mental health and for their relationship. I’ll wrap this up by pointing towards that one famous quote: “If you love something, let it go […]” Snape really doesn't do that, does he?

What are your thoughts on Snape? Tell us below! And feel free to let us know if there are other things in the HP universe that you would like to see us discuss! 

[6191993horror]

The Diagnosis

She grasped the paper in her hands as the world spun around her. It hit her like that drunk driver did when she was sixteen. It totaled her. Flashes of her entire life, synapses regenerating entire parts of her brain that were closed off to protect her, and every emotion bubbled to the surface as she held the answers in her hand. She was never crazy. It said. She was driven into psychosis by gas lighting, loss of touch with reality, because her reality no longer made sense. Her loving, independent hardworking Mother became a lying, manipulative predator. Her father the same. Just without the loving part, and incapable of confronting the guilt.  Flashbacks of her four year old self trying to make soup in the microwave while her Father drank booze in the garage slap her. She feels the pang of deep sadness hit her as she realizes she raised herself there. When her Father should have been loving her, she scavenged his bachelor pad for food. Only his girlfriends would help, or they wouldn’t.  She stares at the pages in a chamber of silence. A nuclear bomb of painful flashbacks has detonated inside of her mind. She can’t hear her therapist or neuropsychologist explaining her diagnosis. All she can do is fixate her eyes on nothingness to escape the fallout. She dissociates during the entire explanation, shuffling slowly out of her therapists office, and stumbles out of the building in a state of shock. She can’t make sense of it, she can’t understand the last five years of her life. Her mind tries desperately to figure it out as her mind autopilots her to her car. Where she cries as if she was branded with a scolding hot iron. The branding mould would say “Stockholm Syndrome” if were as real as the pain in her head. She realizes she has lived her entire life without proper treatment or support or love. Without consistency, without imprinting on any of the people who all had to work together to raise her between their fixes. A Borderline Mother stuck in and out of paranoid insanity from the men in her life repeatedly abusing then abandoning her. A Father with Narcissistic Personality Disorder who cared more about himself and his alcohol more than he ever did her. Neither had the capacity to raise a child, but that did not stop them. Together they put on the most convincing show to those around them. They pretended they were taking care of her to avoid confronting their own inability to raise a child. And they lied to her consistently about her mental state for twenty four years; trapping her in their grip out of fear that she would leave. Like she should have. If she could have. When she was born.  Chronic Complex PTSD. Major Depressive Disorder. Mood congruent psychotic features. Borderline Traits. Narcissistic tendencies to cope with stress. The words she read echoed in her head on full volume as they entered. She couldn’t begin to untangle the thoughts if she tried. Instead, her hands decided to put the keys into her ignition and began her drive home. With the steering wheel in one hand, and her other clasping the diagnosis papers like a stuffed animal; her brain drove her home while she finally unraveled into complete insanity.

[vindrawin]

My Oc (I DID THIS SO I COULD DRAW UR OC PLEASE GIVE MEH A REQUEST)

(For some reason, it's not letting me post this with the picture soooooooo) That moment when you write a more then two page summary of your character and then realize tumblr didn't upload it, didn't notify you about that, and find out the next day. Worst thing is, I had copied it just in case, but I thought it had uploaded so I copied something else. ALRIGHT HERE WE GO Chisana Egao Quirk: Void wings This quirk enables her to create wings out of a semi-permeable shadow type of material. These are typically very small unless she chooses to use them. When in use, they grow about ten feet in wingspan if she is planning on using them for flying. The other way she can use them it for quick teleportation, however, she can only go to places she has been during the past day, and bringing someone else is extremely tiring. At night, her wings grow bigger than in the day, throwing off her balance a bit when she's not flying, but making her faster when she is flying. Parents: Her mother was a villain, and the leader of a gang that terrorized many cities. Although being the leader, she was able to sweet talk her way out of a lot of the crimes she had committed, so although she was more of a high ranked villain, the authorities recognize her as only committing minor offenses. Her quirk is Shadow make, enabling her to create anything out of shadows as long as it is less than 50 ft away from her at anytime. She can control the solubility for these shadows, from making solid objects to dense fogs. Her father was a very successful hero who worked mainly at saving people during disasters. He was a product of quirk marriages, and thus has a soft spot for anyone put in an awful situation just because of their family. His quirk was space control, a quirk which allowed him to create worm wholes for teleporting himself or objects out of the way, manipulation of gravity which would create a 75 ft bubble with himself at the center where gravity was under his control, and void space, a small sort of pocket dimension where no one could enter unless he let them. Through his side of the family has been a sort of quirk illness, where, when using one or more parts of their quirk, a family member has been unable to stop. Doing this could cause them to permanently injure or fatally would themselves. This happened to her father on a particularly dangerous mission when a building was collapsing during an earthquake. He teleported one hundred and forty people into a void space for two hours until the area was safe. After that, people noticed that he was growing unstable. His final job was when he had to capture Egao's mother. After she circumvented punishment by the law, she took advantage of his weakened mind. They got married after that and he soon retired. Siblings: Egao has an older sister who is four years older than her. She inherited a mix of gravity manipulation and shadow create. She can manipulate the specific gravity on anyone or thing that has a shadow, pulling them down or lifting them up. She can also turn her body parts into a shadow and manipulate the solidness of it, for example, she could turn her arm into a sword and harden it past the strength of steal. She most resembles her mother Her brother is three years younger then Egao, and inherited teleportation through shadows and can create shadows in the form of basic geometric shapes, objects that resemble sharp knives, and even duplicates of himself, and as long as it doesn't touch the ground, the objects remain solid. If they die make contact with the ground, they melt back into his own shadow. Past: Compared to her siblings, Egao is nothing. Her younger brother was three when he started making little shadow squares (he started doing this to complete that little puzzle where you have to fit the correct shapes into the correct slots. He always takes the easy way out) and her sister, who was ten, had already basically mastered gravity manipulation and could turn her arms into shadows and back. Egao could barely fly off the ground at age six. Their father was unresponsive. He would sit in their guest room all day, muttering to himself and occasionally saying something to the children. He barely ate and never talked to his wife. Their mother was mentally abusive, blaming the kids for everything she did to them. If they did something she deemed incorrect, she would let the other kids beat up the bad doer (the brother and Egao often didn't want to, so they would be locked in the guest room with their father for hours as additional punishment when they refused to fight). Their sister would always listen to her mother, even if it meant hurting her siblings. She looked down on Egao because of her inferior abilities. One day, when she was almost turning seven (none of them knew their exact birthdays) she was locked in the room with her father again. He was mumbling incoherently as he stared out the window. She was tired of all of this, and his mumbling was driving her insane. She wanted to prove to them, all of them, that she was more than useless. She was going to try and use void pocket. None of the children had ever tried to because, a while back, their father told them," this is what has turned me into this." Even their mother doesn't encourage it. She starts trying to, and the hours start passing by. She's starting to feel sick, like a weight is dropped in her stomach. Her hair starts floating up as her body starts burning. Her vision blurs in and out, black spot dancing across her eyes as she is holding back tears. Then there is a stabbing pain in her eye. She cries out and tries to stop, to at least shut her eyes, but she can't. She then remembers her father mentioning something about a quirk disease, an inability to stop, but it's too late. She's crying out as her eye feels like it's popping. She is barely aware of her mother pounding on the door that Egao locked. She feels blood pouring from her right eye. It splatters across her clothes. She feels it. She know it. She's going to die. Tears and blood stream down her face as her screams and gasps coincide. Then she feels a hand on her shoulder. She feels weightless. The weight in her stomach is gone. She is able to close her eyes. After a while, she is able to open one to see her father, the sky behind him is the night. She was in a void pocket. Was it her or him who had done it? She couldn't tell as she slipped into unconsciousness. When she wakes up, it's in the hospital. The doctor informs her that she will never be able to see out of her right eye again. He also tells her that they found her in the street, unconscious and bleeding heavily. They ask her who her parents are and she fakes memory loss. She doesn't want to go back. She knows her father did this. They put out a report about the missing child, but know one claims her as theirs. Her father must have stopped her mother. When she checked in the mirror and could finally see her eye, she was shocked. It looked like the night sky except for her purple iris which was visibly much smaller then before. She touched it and realized that it was a void. This was the happiest day in her life. She had succeeded in a way and was finally free from 'home'. Yes, she missed her brother and, to an extent, her sister, but she can't bring herself to go back. About: Gender: Female Pronouns: She/ Her or They/ Their Sexual orientation: Bi Greatest fear: Not being enough Generally a bright person, but can also be very pessimistic. She uses humor to cope and loves to make people laugh. Doesn't go out of her way to form romantic relationships because she grew up witnessing a toxic one. She grew up with thick skin because of people being creeped out by her eye (which is why she grew out her bangs), but is always worried about letting someone down. This is why she prefers to work alone because if she fails, at least she isn't messing up someone else's work. Although she hates to admit it, she needs people around her, a group of friends that will always except who she is, mistakes and all. {bonus fact: she can change her eye back to normal, but her iris is always extremely tiny. She cannot see out of it at anytime, and often stores pencils in her void eye for later use. This is the only place she ever turns into a void.} OKAY IM DONE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. It took sooo long to rewrite this ughhhhhh. Btw, the only reason I made this is because I want to draw your OCs!! PLEASE SEND ME A REQUEST I REALLY WANT TO DRAW THEM ... Thanks for reading!

[pr-pr]

Long suicidal rant.

Clickbait? Yes, unapologetically so. Just for that fractional chance that someone would give a damn even though this post is super useless and shitty and pointless, like me.  

.

.

So I remember high school very differently from one of my best friends. He said something I thought I’d never hear, that I was always happy. I guess I was happy around him. He was and is a happy person—the most stable person I know, in fact. We just talked a lot, and we got to talk about a lot of things and still do. Still, I remember high school so differently. We hung out during break times when I’d fawn over a crush, chat, or just chill. Or sometimes we’d cut classes together and just chat. Or go for a jog and end up just eating ice cream.

I remembered high school differently. I remember coming home from senior prom and hysterically crying myself to sleep because I’d failed to make one romantic connection the whole four years and it made me feel ugly and unloveable to the bone. Prom simply wasn’t special for people like me—ones who didn’t star in the romcom, random background extras, a snippet in the burn book. I remember going home and hating school so much I felt suicidal every night. I remember writing a short story about killing myself with shrimps and ascorbic acid—I was a nerdy kid. I remember diagnosing myself bipolar because of the experience. I remember being bullied and just sticking to my diaries. I remember failing at math no matter how hard I tried. I remember begging my parents to put me into a different school.

Of course, I also remember finding ways to cut classes so I can paint and debate the whole day—two of my favorite things to do. I also remember the great times with friends and hiding behind a pillar just so we don’t go through another boring class. I remember the laughs, the platters of instant noodles, the spots I’d linger at to see my crush. I remember it all.

I think of high school and I feel so many things colliding, so many colors bursting. All my memories are like so. And my friends tend to remember them differently. I was this, I was that. I was bubbly, I was friendly—but inside I was battling with social anxiety. They don’t know about how many hours I battled in the morning just to get up, just NOT to give up entirely. There were days I hated my friends because I just didn’t want to wake up and meet them—I just wanted to die instead.

I forget that people don’t actually hear my thoughts out loud. If they did, they’d be so turned off. I’m just such a party pooper inside. I’m always scared, always just wanting to fucking die. It began when I was four—that feeling that everything would be better off with my disappearance. My inability to carry on a suicide plan, really, up to this day, I consider a weakness, a form of indecisiveness, lackluster ambivalence.

I’ve had many dreams, of which dying has been the only consistent one. This doesn’t mean that people see me as emo, gothic or always wearing black. Far from it. I dress in rainbows. My favorite color has always been yellow. Specifically egg yolk yellow, Mercedes de Brazo yellow or that yellow dress I had as a child with the corset back I stopped wearing once it freaked out my mom because I had sleep walked in it.

No, I’m actually quite the party with the people I trust. I get it going. Ask around, you’ll see. It’s called hypomania after all. Still, it all crashes. It always does in a ball of flames and I get lonely again. I feel like a fucking freak again.

And I’m sooooo tired. I’m so tired of all this cycling. People don’t actually see me at my worst. Only my mom and sister do. They don’t see me when I just can’t fucking move. They don’t see me when I have panic attacks. They don’t see me when I descend and break down. They don’t see me starving for days. They don’t see me crying uncontrollably. They don’t see me curl up in a ball. They don’t see me shaking and twitching in a corner. They don’t see me when I bang my head on the wall or start hitting myself. They don’t see me when it hurts and I feel my brain is on fire. They don’t see me when I’m all alone and everyone is asleep and I’m still typing all this shit out trying to make sense of something, trying to find a reason to stay alive.

It’s so fucking hard. Sorry for the French. Sorry ma. Sorry God. Sorry! But life feels like torture right now. I’m just so tired and everything is forcing me to move like I’ve caught my foot on a roller coaster.

Life can be good. Of course. Life can be so fucking good. Especially when I’m in love. But life right now is hell for me. I’m doing stuff I love, sure, but fucking shit! Motherfucking  goats on a ladder, monkey fucking balls, jizz dripping dick, shit show. I’m fucking lonely as fuck. I feel like I’m on an island away from civilization. If I want to be cute about it, I feel like I’m stuck in a tower with fucking guard dragons named Penniless and Insanity.

Life feels like hell for me. I’m fucking burning and I just won’t die. Sure, hell is much worse, but fucking shit, you haven’t been in my head. God! Why? I just feel so fucking frustrated. Is there no way out?

I’m writing my shit, right? Just fucking finish this shit so I can pass it to Palanca which I won’t win anyway. I’m not getting my hopes up. But I want to finish it for the sake of finishing it. I know it’s not much. It’s just about time and unrequited love after all. There’s tons of other stuff like it. Still, STILL. I just want the satisfaction of finishing something. Having some sort of closure. BUT IT JUST WON’T END. I have the middle and end, but there’s that chunk, that problem solving part that just won’t come. You know why? Because I’m trying to write the solution to a problem I currently have no answer to. I’m asking questions I don’t know the answer to. It’s high school all over again, reading the same math problem over and over again and still having no fucking clue, that i wind up fucking crying. 

How do I cope with rejection? How do I become a better me? How do I be independent? Can i just insert “to be continued” in the middle of a screenplay?

Maybe my shrink knows the answer. I haven’t seen her in a while. Honestly, because I can’t fucking afford her like I can’t fucking afford meeting people right now even with isolation fucking driving me fucking mad.

Questions to ask my shrink:

What am I supposed to do when I’m suicidal?

Some people think I’m always happy, should I correct them?

How to not be a party pooper when telling people I’m fucking crazy?

 I think I might have over skinned my lips. Fucking burns. 

This feels just so dumb. Writing this shit down. No one’s ever going to read it. No one’s ever going to understand me. All my life has been about trying to make people understand just so I can feel a little fucking less lonely. Nothing’s changed. People don’t know me. I’m either sunshine or a storm cloud.

Sometimes I wish I could chop off my legs so people could see why I can’t run, walk or just stand. Like yeah. At least now they can see. It’s not like I want a pity party. I don’t. But I want to be understood. I want someone who gets it.

I wish I could treat this. I wish meds will make this go away. But it’ll just manage it. And when I get rid of the deepest blues, I get rid of the brightest yellows and I’ll just have nothing to live for anyway. How the fuck do I live?

I constantly feel fucking worthless and useless. I know it’s the disorder, but it’s not like I can get rid of the disorder. It might as well be an organ on its own really.

I just want to die so badly. I’ve just just had enough. My head’s hurt for what, how many decades now? It just burns and aches and vibrates and spreads throughout my body and nobody understands. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to be scared.

The paranoia doesn’t help. Yeah, you can say it’s kept me alive, the whole panoptical life caused by years of trauma of mom reading my diaries, notes, letters, and text messages. Fucking motherfucking shit. It’s kept me alive in a way. I don’t do drugs, sex and very seldom drabble in legal potent substances. I very seldom lie. I can’t even leave the house without telling my mom. I’m “good” because I just live in constant fear of myself. I feel like everything is a gateway for worse things. I can’t let go. I can’t breathe. I wish I could just be.

I wish I could just breathe. I wish the pain would stop. I wish someone would get it. I wish I was worth it. I wish people believed in me. I wish he never had to leave me. I wish he loved me back. I wish my dad wasn’t an asshole. I wish my dad just loved my family. I wish my mom was ok. I wish I wasn’t so traumatized. I wish I could travel. I wish, I wish, I wish. We can’t have everything we want now.

Look, I have a lot. I got a great education. I got good grades even. I got an okay face. Mom says I’m too pretty, but she’s my mom, of course she’d say that. My mom also says my ass is wide but not big—which is bad because I don’t do enough exercise.

Fuck.

I have a lot to be grateful about. I can write—though no one fucking reads me. I can paint—there’s a giant blank canvass upstairs but no fucking paint (for weeks I SOUGHT). I can cook—as much as the next internet aficionado with taste buds. I can…

I can die.

The thought soothes me. Comforts me. I’ve told my doctor many times before but drowned it out with jokes and I’m okays. She counter checks with my mom who still wishes that all this was controllable, was just imagined. Can’t blame her. I, too, wish this was just a nightmare I could wake up from.

Pinch. No! Haha!

It’s reality. I’m suicidal and I don’t know what I can do about it. It’s not like I’m actively trying. I’m just always considering how much better it would be on the other side. I keep thinking about overdosing on chocolate or eating too much fatty stuff that liver cirrhosis occurs. I keep thinking of finishing something great, an obra maestra, then just jumping off a building or some shit. Anything really. I don’t know.

Sometimes, it scares me, up close. Like that heart attack scare, I thought I wanted to live. But wanting to live is such a fleeting thing. What is more constant, what nags at my brain everyday is what if, what if!!! WHAT IF THIS ALL JUST ENDS.

Maybe this is just a call for attention. But I’m sort of tired of the attention too. I’m so tired of telling people how miserable I am and them filing it in a folder under my name. “Jasper, sap.” “Jasper, toxic.” I’m tired of wearing people thin. If I die, it’ll be like pulling off a band aid, really. Quick. Not like this. A long torturous whine. My existence is like the nails on the chalkboard.

I scratched the blackboard once or twice and it caught my crush’s attention. I kinda enjoyed it. Few times I existed in his orbit, even if it was in the world’s most annoying form. Gold.

This is why my humor is dark. It’s the only way I fucking survive. Laughing at myself. At the in-credulousness of it all. Of existing in spite. Of living through pain for nothing. Ha! Pathetic! To detach myself from myself, so I can look from above and laugh at me as I trip on my own fucking feet—my reason for living.

I’m hilarious. How I blunder through life. How I almost got suspended once because some girls gossiped about my armpit hair. How I fell in love with a man who felt absolutely nothing for me. You know why I fell for him? Because I’d never felt so loved before. Ha! Amazing. Just hilarious.

I don’t want your pity. I don’t even want you to fucking worry. I’m not going to kill myself. I don’t need you to tell me that I don’t seem crazy. Telling me that makes me feel like I just imagined my whole diagnosis you know, and that my brand of fucked up is way beyond medical science. I just want to be underfuckingstood.

Is that so hard?

I didn’t know that a movie about aliens was going to be the movie of my life. I’ve never felt so understood until the movie Arrival, it’s hilarious. I feel like I’m just talking alien and the only solution to my problem is to write a book in the future about it. Fucking shit. I experience life, also, I realized like an alien. Always experiencing everything in the context of the future and past. Everything to me is in medias res. I don’t understand linearity. That’s why I’m always lost. Left and right is a circle to me. Everything is so fucking nonlinear my brain is constantly overwhelmed. Am I happy? Am I sad? I don’t know. Hence my trademark HUHUHAHA/HAHAHUHU. Sort of sounds like a monkey.

WHINE WHINE WHINE

Who the fuck will ever read this shit.  NO fucking one.

My whole life I dedicated to be understood--my whole college thesis all about it. In the words of Ursula: Pathetic.

I remember in fourth grade was it? Yeah, probably. I used abstract art to tell my dad that I knew his deepest darkest secret and he was the asshole of my life. Of course he didn’t get it. I abstracted it for a reason.

Life is like a knot. I don’t know where it ends or begins—all I see is that it’s a tangle I can’t solve.

I’m so fucking needy.

I know the answer isn’t love. Pop culture would tell you it is. It’s not. But what if medication doesn’t help? HOPELESS FuCKiNG SHIT.

One day, I ask the wind, the farts I make when everyone is asleep, will I grow thin? Will I just snap? Will I just finally have enough? Will the guilt of leaving my family behind finally be secondary to my suffering?

Someone has it worse—they say. I just don’t like that saying. Like fuck that shit. FUCK THAT SHIT. Someone always has it worse, doesn’t cancel out the fucking chronic pain of my life. Now I have to feel guilty for feeling bad on top of feeling guilty for being alive? FUCK THAT SHIT.

I can’t sleep. It’s been 5 fucking pages. It’s 3 am.

I used to arrive with sappy you can do its. I don’t think I will this time.

Cheers to one day dying. Cheers to death that comes to all. Cheers to death the great equalizer. Cheers to death, my brain’s last hope for a silencer.

[ambereyedcetra]

(I’m inspired to make a headcanon about Eden’s dad, so here it is.) 

Though he was one of the few remaining full-blood Ancients, Cassiel managed to avoid detection. He succeeded mostly due to his reclusive tendencies and spending much of his time hunting out in Cosmo Canyon’s wilderness. The few times he did come in contact with others were when he entered the village to trade pelts, meat, and other trophies for gil. 

By the time he married Nizhoni, however, he let her take on trading with the shopkeepers (which she insisted upon doing because she wanted to give supplies to AVALANCHE’s cause). 

Many believe Cassiel to being a standoffish, temperamental stranger, perhaps with a few eccentricities, but never an Ancient. Though word of him ranting about how the accursed place and how his newborn daughter was already damned by the voices got out, many believed it was him consumed by his grief over Nizhoni’s death. No one suspected there was something far deeper than his inability to cope with loss. 

His resistance to the Planet’s connection fueled his drive to disconnect from much of society; though it saved him from becoming a target to ShinRa, it also wore on his weary mind, leading to his eventual insanity and death. 

[swinterwriting-blog]

Final Blog Post: Two Sides of a Coin

He touched me, and I shook my head no. He grabbed me and I pushed back. I said no. I screamed no. No was the only word I could muster up, but I poured my heart and soul into that word. This wasn’t what I wanted, I did not want this. No, No, No. He continued, he pulled my hair and mushed his grotesque face onto mine. He was taking this from me, this thing that should never be stolen, because once something like this is done, there is no repaying, no giving it back. How can you replace something like this? He advanced and I continued to struggle, but this struggle was of no use. He beat me. He raped me. The pervert dressed himself, let out an extraordinarily misplaced sigh of content, and walked out the door.

How can something be two things at once? It is all so clear and so blurry. I remember the details of the room, beautiful flower stencils on lilac walls, the way the sheets were already all fucked up just before I was all fucked up. I remember the sound of my voice, I can hear myself yelling. But I cannot remember his face, I cannot remember him at all. Even the way it made me feel then feels distant and blurry, and yet I feel that same way right now. This is my life, this precise moment. He gets up. This moment is my life, resigning myself to my newfound misery as the forgery of a man, as he walked out the door. I begin to mourn myself.

                                                 *          *         *

She woke up screaming. These screams, they are nothing new. The rape, and the scraps of it that return to her as she is unconscious, will never truly dissolve. Her husband sat up and touched her, and not fully awake, she pushed his touch away, as far away as she could. Coming into the here and now, she felt the nightmare begin to blend with her current reality. The flower designs on the walls of her past began to fade, and her familiar and plain bedroom now began to take its shape. Her husband once again reached out, and she took his hand.

They had a nightly ritual. Her recurring night terrors required it. They each got up, and walked quietly past the bedroom at the end of the hallway and down the stairs into their brightly colored kitchen, that only appeared as shadows until her husband flicked on the light. He made her chamomile tea, her favorite, and they sat there as she drank it. Sometimes he would lightly play music, but not tonight. She put her empty mug in the partially filled sink, and began the trek up the stairs, with her husband quietly following behind her; had anyone been watching they would have assumed him just a shadow.

Laying back down to sleep, her husband was quickly unconscious. She kept telling herself to sleep, tomorrow will be a big day, and you cannot sleep through your son’s graduation. As she laid on her side and lost herself in the dim light shining in through the shades, she closed her eyes and began her return to the dream world, she was swept away with her memories back to another part of her journey; the time after an assault when you can take control, or lose it. Immediately after falling asleep she was right where she wanted to be, waking up in her tent, reliving the last day before returning to society…

                                              *          *         *

I love that feeling. The feeling of a cold morning, but the kind of cold morning when you can tell the earth is just waiting for the sun to slowly warm her surface, waiting for the sun to warm my surface. I hear the birds squawking, and decided I was hungry. I finish off the last of the cookies I brought with me 49 days ago, and went for some of the fish I had cooked just the night before. I love this place, and I love my isolation. There was no one to assault my body, I was in a place where no one had yet assaulted the land. I finish eating, and unzip my front door. I duck as I go outside, I don’t want to disturb the tarp I so carefully set up near my little home. I am free, I am liberated. I am sure people think I am insane, I did not cope with the rape in a way accepted by the majority. I did not want therapy, I did not want community. So I came out here, to an untouched piece of countryside and forest. Leaving was my way of coping, of seeing what happened to me, and the bigger picture. Tomorrow will be the 50th day of my camping trip, and the last day I will wander. I walk the land, which is neither simply beautiful, nor simply dangerous. How can something be two things at once? These words that we give so much meaning to, they define and separate us, they give things meaning, but can never truly convey that meaning. Meaning is absent and present. How can something be two things at once?

As much as I would like to stay forever, my time here is ending. As the sun begins to set, I start my nightly fire and grab my leather worn journal, and the pen barely holding on to ink. I am not healed. The savagery that was done to me, it is a wound that nothing can heal from. But I can function, and I am making the choice to do something about it, something productive. I begin reading through my entries, I begin to travel through my own journey once again. My journal begins on that very next day after the attack, after binging on next-day contraceptives, and purging myself of them that night; and after leaving the society that allows a lucky few of its members to crush flowers, and bruise faces, simply because they desire to. The fire pops and cracks. That is where this journey began. And it ends tomorrow. Tomorrow I will pack my things, take my final steps around this place, and conclude this chapter of my story. A small piece of wood crumbles into two, heated past what it can stand. What I will do with this story, I am not sure.

                                               *          *          *

She wakes up, not in her make-shift tent, in a lonely part of the woods, but in her warm bed, with her husband in the shower. The light shining in the window almost makes her feel like she never left her dream, one of her favorite memories. She goes back down the same stairs, lit by the sunshine, and yells on her way down at her son in his bedroom to get up and start getting ready.

The graduates throw their caps, and she and her husband frantically try to get a picture of their son at the back of the group. He looks nothing like either of them, and he shouldn’t, he was adopted at the age of three. This is not new information, however in watching the parents and children taking pictures of their families forged through sex and blood, she is once again reminded of her inability to have children, of the harm she inflicted on herself, the large numbers of contraceptives that she could not keep down. She knows she is broken, she knows she is shattered. But she did not crumble. She instead shattered into shards of glass, and on this monumental day, she would use this to put a small slice into one of many underlying inequalities that caused her so much grief.

After the graduation, before the parties and the chicks, before the booze and the pictures, she called her son into the kitchen to give him a small piece of herself. This wasn’t something she had given her husband, nor her mother, nor anyone else. In adopting a son, she promised both him and herself, that she would not let him fall victim to the lies of a society run by men. She pulled out the pages ripped from her journal. Those she had written on the last day of her wandering. She was not a woman of many words. The words she carefully chose to say were, “My boy, I give you this wisdom to empower you. The world is not only yours for the taking. Live a life of grace and giving, do not worry about the words, and do not worry about their connotations.”

Day 50

The assault on women’s bodies is not separate from the assault on the Earth. Man feels like it is his right to own and dominate, however it is not his right at all. Similarly to the way victims of sexual abuse often shrivel or explode, Mother Nature will do the same, as she has been plundered and raped by man for hundreds of years.

Sex is a powerful thing. It is naturally nothing extraordinary, however we have created this word, and these feelings that are supposed to be inherently part of it. Things can only hold power if it is a harnessed power, we cannot use power if it floats freely. This is why our society traps us, especially women, in bubbles. We are supposed to avoid sexual desire at all costs, for sex is the driving force of society, and only when you harness and impose it, can it give you power.

It is no coincidence that females are seen as objects of sexual desire, and it is not coincidence that we consider the planet a mother. Men love to slice things up, create borders and difference, because this is what they are told they must do to be men. The social construction of manhood, of binary opposition between man and woman, is just that-a human made construction.

How can we be two completely different things at once? How can you see me as life, angelic and pure, and death with all of its dark curiosity; how can I be both of these things to you? How can our earth only be seen in the same light, as either the mother giving us life, or the vengeful and dangerous wrath of a mother? Why is sex, so often pushed onto women, seen as either a perfect or all-destroying energy to be harnessed? The female form, in all its glory, was not created to be dominated, divided, and abused by man. The female form was not created to abstain from, or give at any moment, sex. The earth is not simply here for our taking, and sex is not a tool for manipulation. I am a woman, and while you have taken something from me, I do not wish you harm. If harm comes to the top of our society, then it will trickle down to us all. But that is not to say that I do not wish harm upon that structure, the pollution within the minds of all of the people, which created my scars, which promotes this reign of terror.

I will have a son. I will cherish him, I will love him. And most importantly I will make sure that he is the kind of son who sees through all of the bullshit. My son will not rape the earth, he will not accept the “rights” given to him for his manhood, and he will not follow society’s unspoken rules. My son will grow into a man that changes the world by looking at it for what it is-a planet with no expectations, and the men on it with too many.

[thenightling]

Rumplestiltskin’s hate / fear of being caged

An analysis about Rumplestiltskin’s issue with cages. 

The first time we see Rumplestitlskin caged in Once Upon a Time it's when he is captured by Cinderella, Prince Thomas, and the Charmings.

After the whole of the original backstory is unfolded it becomes clear that the reason Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to be captured by Cinderella was so he could end up in the dwarf mine dungeon and learn the name of the future savior (Emma) and to gain his in-curse caveats from Regina for his future life in Storybrooke (i.e. she’d have to do whatever he asks so long as he says please and he woudl have wealth and power in that land).

He never really wanted Cinderella's child but he knew he needed to make it appear that he did so that the heroes had enough reason, finally, to capture him.  The debt with Cinderella would also later enable him to gain a favor from Emma (that favor ultimately being running after his long lost son in New York City).

But even though it was all part of his plan he did not look forward to this captivity. If you watch closely during Price of Gold not only does he infer that he knows what she is up to with the squid ink infused pen used to render his powers impotent but he also downs “liquid courage” (booze) before the meeting with her that he knows, thanks to his Seer powers, will result in his capture.

He discards the flask when it’s time to put on his act.

Granted, based on the time line, it seems to indicate he had also been drinking to cope with the believed “death” of Belle while carrying on with his plans for Charming and Snow White to fall in love and have the savior child. 

Also though this captivity was part of his plan, he had still smuggled magick binding squid ink into his cell (somehow) and used it on some parchment where he had written Emma's name over and over again, obsessively, perhaps preparing the proviso that once he heard Emma's name in Storybrooke it would restore his true memories, and also as a means of breaking out of cell if Regina somehow did not cast the curse.

Even though he had deliberately allowed his own capture he made it very clear that he did not relish it.  He obviously spent close to nine months in that dungeon (since Cinderella was about to give birth when the curse was cast). And the longer he remained captive the more ...unstable his behavior became.  He seems to become less human and it's not purely an act.  

The calmer, more logical part of himself shuts down, he's more prone to hysterics of near Panic "We had a deal!  We HAVE A DEAL!  I NEED HER NAME!  WHAT IS HER NAME!" when he thinks Snow White will walk away without tell him her future child's name, and hysterical laughter when he senses the curse is about to be cast (the deleted scene from the first episode, which was later recreate with Emma to promote the Season 5 Dark Swan storyline).

Later during Season One (in Storybrooke as Mr. Gold) Rumplestiltskin openly admits he does not like being caged.  And he bargains with Regina to make his assault charges against Moe disappear as to prevent more unnecessary time behind bars disappear.

During their confrontation where Regina learns that he knows his own true name and he wants his chipped tea cup back you can see he gets tense behind bars and easily agitated and it was not just for worry of his chipped cup. He can only mask it behind a facade of calm for so long.  You can see an anxiousness brimming on the verge of nearly a panic attack, particularly when he grips the bars and demands she give him what is his.

  Similarly we see him crazed while being held captive by Zelena but sadly this is at least in part because he was sharing his body with his dying son.  And he existed in that torturous state ("All the voices in my head will be quiet once I'm dead.")   Even after he is separated from Baelfire / Neal Zelena continues to keep him caged even though she can easily control him with the Dark One dagger (which was in her possession).

 She did this out of spite because she knew about his dislike of being caged.

He only calmed slightly in the presence of Belle.

Zelena held him in at least three different cages during this captivity.  He didn’t even have a bed but she did provide his spinning wheel for his obsessive making of straw into golden thread.

At the start of Season six we see a shared dreamscape between Belle, Rumplestiltskin, and their son gideon and ominously we see a cage very similar to one Zelena held Rumplestiltskin in, floating in the background.

That cage remains there until the dream dance causes all those dark images to fade and be replaced by warmth and light.

And then in Season six we see "Dream world" Rumplestiltskin from the world where Emma was not The Savior and The Dark Curse was never cast. This version of Rumplestiltskin spent over thirty years imprisoned and it was somehow without the squid ink (backup plan for escape).  And he is probably the most insane version of Rumplestitlskin to date even though the version held by Zelena spoke in cryptic rhymes and couldn't seem to focus and back in the first season dwarf mines he was literally climbing his dungeon walls.

In Emma’s “Dream World” we see a version of Rumplestiltskin who giggles at literally nothing and eventually carries the bones of the woman he loves in a sack and pour them out at Regina's feet.  He's clearly lost what was left of his mind.

So here's a simple analysis, why does Rumplestiltskin hate being caged so much? 

Back when I first watched Once Upon a time for the first time, at first I thought Rumplestiltskin’s fear of confinement stemmed from something that might have happened to him while mortal.  The cruel nickname of “the man who ran” seemed to suggest to me that his hobbling had been a punishment.  In the middle ages up until the eighteenth century run away slaves or convicts could end up with an ankle shattered or foot cut off (both punishments are called hobbling as they cause a permanent inability to run).  However Seasons 2 and 3 revealed the true origin for Rumplestiltskin’s limp, which turned out to be he had bashed his own ankle to escape The Ogre wars so his son would not grow up fatherless, which turned out to be an unavoidable fate anyway.

So why then does he fear being caged so intensely?

It's simple really.   It all ties to his addiction with power.  That addiction comes from a fear, a fear of being powerless, a fear of being helpless.  He craves power so that he will never feel helpless again. When he was the crippled thread spinner and mortal he felt helpless all the time, weak and vulnerable.  And as the imp he almost never allows this but when captured in a cage that can restrain magick he is vulnerable and he knows it.  He has no access to his powers and he is helpless.  So it makes sense that (outside of losing those he loves) his worst fear is to be caged because it represents the helplessness that drives him toward his dark magick addiction.

That and he probably really hated his prison food...

(What the Hell, Charmings?!)

In conclusion, Rumplestiltskin has three major fears.

1.  The loss of those he loves.  This includes his son (Baelfire and later Gideon) and Belle.  This fear isn’t just a fear of their deaths but also a fear of rejection by them.  His chronic low self-esteem and belief that no one could truly love him is almost as strong as his addiction to power.

2.  A childhood fear of heights that was likely exasperated and perhaps intensified by being dragged away from Neverland (and his father) by the demonic Neverland shadow.

3.    The sense of being helpless / powerless which is compensated for with addiction to power.

4.    Being caged.  This is true even when he does have a means of escape (like the paper with the squid ink) but much more so when his magick cannot help him to escape such as the version of him in the “Dream world” dungeon of Season Six and when Zelena used the Dark One Dagger to prevent him from escaping.  His fear of being caged is irrevocably intertwined with the fear of being helpless / powerless.

For the safety of all involved, make sure your Dark Ones are Free Range / Cage Free.

[nopainmadelaine-blog]

scout // a playlist (ft. madelaine “scout” carney)

Fix You // Coldplay

“When the tears come streaming down your face When you lose something you can’t replace When you love someone but it goes to waste”

Scout has lost her brother, her best friend, her partner in crime- the only person who has ever really understood her and been there for her. His death has had such an intense impact on her, and it has molded her into the person she is now. All she can do is think about him and is swarmed in depressive, painful thoughts that cripple her emotionally and this song just captures the melody of her thoughts and represents the guidance and help she needs in her life to get through this insanely difficult time.

Somewhere Only We Know // Keane

“And if you have a minute, why don’t we go Talk about it somewhere only we know?”

Her name is a secret, and that’s mainly because the only person who ever called her it has passed on. The name is what she calls herself, it’s what her consciousness has titled her- but she refuses to let anyone know about it because it was her and her brother’s special thing. This song is to represent all the secrets she has and desperately wants to share with someone important- someone who will keep it between them. She wants someone to know about her brother and her name being Scout- but she only wants to talk about it with someone she trusts and in private.

Not About Angels // Birdy

“We know full well there’s just time So is it wrong to dance this line?”

Scout has a lot of time before she dies, or at least she thinks she does, so she knows it will be a long time until she is reunited with the only person she felt ever cared about her and truly accepted her for who she was. All Scout does is think about who she has lost, where they are, and what life is like for them- an angel. Scout tries her best not to allow her disorder to drive her thoughts, but it’s so insanely difficult when her mental disorder is so strong and her medical one causes all the pain to be emotional- due to the inability to physically “cope” with it.

Down // Jason Walker

“I know I’m gonna fall down I thought I could fly, So why did I drown?”

Scout’s depression is just an accessory to the tragedies in her life. She feels insanely unwanted by the people around her- especially her parents. as much as she tries to convince herself otherwise, she always felt as if she was the lesser-liked child. Everyone knows that if Scout hadn’t been asked to go to that college then her brother would have never offered to go with her and died. Scout is insanely down on herself, especially in her own head, and it just seems like everything in her life is coming down too heavily rest on her shoulders and drown her.

All I Want // Kodaline

“But if you loved me Why’d you leave me?”

Obviously, once more- this is about her brother. Scout’s life is heavily influenced by her brother and all she wants is him back in her life. She wants him back and she wants to forget all the negativity that has been swarming her since the accident. She wants to forget she has a medical condition, forget her depression, forget the guilt in her parent’s eyes and forget everything bad in the world. She knows her brother loves her, she just can’t understand why he would leave her, even if she can’t help but blame herself.

[complction]

SUPERNATURAL / MYTHICAL AU !! pertains to all !

CARMEN : a highly respected muse , often regarded as a patron of the performing arts . she wasn’t necessarily chosen or had decided to become a muse on her own ; she had awaken, in a sense, right before she was going to perform in her first lead role in her freshman year of college. in that moment, she had been bestowed the first blessing of the dormant muses of comedy and tragedy , thalia and melpomene , and had been surged with abilities so powerful that it practically drove the audience into oblivion upon the emotion and catharsis that they felt in such a vivid performance . is disguised as a fresh face in the hollywood industry, and serves to help her fellow actors and actresses find their way to the limelight for both representation and to shine a light on the very gritty reality of the human world . 

DUILIO : a timetraveller , tasked with the responsibility of warning his baby sister of the apocalypse that would happen within the next upcoming year or two . however, as time began to go on and as his own changes created more and more timelines to sprout from his changes, he is struggling to return back to the future - his future - to resolve this . he must make the choice either to allow the apocalypse to happen and to return back to his original timeline, or find a possible home in one of the alternate timeline - but possibly risk ruining the future of the timeline he would make a home in . his method of time-travelling is through painting a picture of a particular memory or of touching the art of the place intended to revert to the time and place of where the painting was created. he does not know how far back he can travel in time , or if it has further repercussions on him .    

ALFREDO : a high demon , one that could be feared almost as much as one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse . of course, he’s not as well known, per say, but his abilities or his tendencies have been able to guide those who encounter him into oblivion . he’s a problematic piece of shit like always but in this one doesn’t have any sense of humanity to hold him back from the get-go . the embodiment of insanity and its urges, and thus holds the ability to drive someone insane and to do his bidding, this often representing something concerning the seven deadly sins . cannot possess a human because his abundance of power / his existence would drive the human to rot in its inability to cope with the pressure and weight of his power . has gained enough power, however, to retain a human form of his own .  

EUN JEONG : a young siren who has been wandering the world since she was young until was taken in at a young age by a family along the coast of california after she had been found on a beach ( doesn’t remember her birth or her origins ). she seems more human than anything, and has adapted to the human world . she truly found out about herself by enchanting her foster parents while singing once while she was in her childhood, and soon after that, took to learn more about herself with the help of her family . her family always had a suspicion that something was strange - different - about her, though for now, the girl has found that her identity is who she makes of it : a simple girl named lee eun jeong, who is pursuing her family’s dream once more. 

PETER : an angel who was chosen to become one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse ; the horseman of war . ruthlessly stripped of his wings and of his status as an angel, the damaged and broken soul was tossed into the war of survival ; an entirely different war than one that many reasoned to be . drugs , lust , wrath , the vices that many killed upon . instead of the norm of war being found around him, he saw instead the war between humanity and their inevitable demise . his status as the horseman of war has allowed him few benefits between the pain and horrors that he endured in his origin ; he is now immortal , and would be relieved of this task upon the dawn of humanity’s peace . however , only the naive truly believe in such a thing like peace ( he knows fully well that he was damned into an eternity as a bringer of war, as a bringer of pain, hurt, and only the worst ).  

COLE : an immensely powerful shapeshifter that is known best by others as a human chameleon of sorts . he adapts to the situation and therefore honed his abilities by many of the situations that he was placed in . his abilities are on the spectrum concerning creatures as tame as a mouse to as dangerous and rabid as a big feline . he is the heir of an influential family that are also with the shapeshifter’s blood, though the extend of their prowess and their history has yet to be explored by him . however, he does know that their blood as shapeshifters has allowed them to live longer than average human lives ; this longevity has kept them from remaining in one city, instead dubbing it as “ business headquarters “ in many different cities of the world to keep suspicion from arising among the public eye . now, as he is gaining control of the rasmus enterprise, he is learning more and more of his family’s past .