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#and i have a raging hatred against aesthetics
alfalcone · 1 year
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so @sailor-moon-rage asked me for details with regard to my comment that white nationalists are masquerading as leftists to radicalize men in communist, anarchist, and other radical left spaces on social media. this post is me providing further detail.
i suspect my claim was surprising for many folks who assume that, if you identify as a marxist or anarchist, you'd be resistant to alt-right ideologies. in a traditional sense, that would have been true; typically young men would have been radicalized through learning about marxism at college and/or by working with a union, and/or by joining another progressive activist group. these are real-world experiences, though, and as social media and polarization further isolate people from one another, young, politically-minded men and women are learning about politics and social movements exclusively via the internet. that means they have no lived experience, or little lived experience, that would expose them to their ideologies in the real world. they're not talking about their politics in person with other people, exploring nuance and differences and being tempered, they're not organizing--they're posting. and algorithms push people to consume more extreme content in order to maintain their interest (and keep them on the site longer, for advertisers.)
this matters because, in online leftist spaces, the way men talk about their grievances with the government is virtually indistinguishable from the way alt-right men talk. again, this might surprise people, because there's a common misconception now that the alt-right is synonymous with conservatism; it is not. nazis are generally not watching fox news and sporting blue lives matter pins--they hate the police, they hate the government, and they believe in total political sovereignty and independence. the SPLC list of related extremist ideologies is useful for illustrating the scope of these beliefs, which does include general anti-government ideology. most of these groups want to start a revolution that hastens the demise of government, which they see as irredeemably corrupt and bad for the people. 
sound familiar? (cut for length!)
this isn't new. i grew up, as an impoverished black girl in the south, in a predominately white area filled with these types of men. they're deeply committed to domestic terrorism and violence against the state, which they see as righteous. and if you visit any anarchist or communist's page, you'll see them posting/reblogging/retweeting nearly identical rhetoric every day--our enemies must die violently, we must arm ourselves, the revolution begins now. seriously, go to any leftist's blog, like that balaclava moron i was fighting with, and you'll see them reblogging these very posts from open nazis with names like 'pnzr'. partially, this is their shared aesthetic--they love their slavic warcore or whatever the fuck you want to call it lmao--but they also share many ideological beliefs about the nature of politics. 
so, there are superficial similarities. but how does a nazi convince a committed marxist that their goals aren’t so different in the end? by finding an “in”. as i described in my post yesterday, this "in", on most modern social media sites, is a seemingly shared hatred of women. the dirtbag left movement, popularized by podcasts like the red scare and el chapo’s traphouse, and by influencers like that absolute piece of shit rapist hassan and the former incel and anti-feminist contrapoints, problematized feminism as a distraction from “real” political goals. it goes like this: feminists are fat, whiny cunts. why are we letting them emasculate our movement? we need guns, we don’t need nannyscolds. all real leftist women understand where their loyalties should lie. this is a classic appeal to the “cool girl”, and it works—young women, especially, are anxious to be seen as cool and intelligent and desirable by men, so they begin to define themselves wholly in opposition to patriarchy-critical feminist beliefs (usually just termed “radical feminism” which is catch-all for the left, like “zionism” or “globalism”): i’m not like other girls, i love porn. i have an onlyfans, the only acceptable form of capitalism (i guess??) i hate other women. i’m just one of the guys. if you disagree, you’re an ugly terf swerf pig cunt who needs to be decapitated. so the left, like the right, becomes an echo chamber where dissent is violently shut down in certain areas--feminism, yes, but also moderation in any measure. you think violence isn't the answer? bootlicker.
remember, the goal of white nationalism is an ethnostate. they are terrified about a “crisis” of white population demographics; they constantly fret over the decline of western civilization due to “miscegenation” and “immigration”, etc. they don’t actually see a violent leftist white man as their enemy; he’s just misguided. white nationalism and related beliefs are inherently evangelical: that is, they want converts. they talk openly about this on discord servers and chan sites and even openly on twitter, where they discuss tactics to bring these men into the fold, to awaken them. hell, i've talked with many nazis on here to learn more about their beliefs; i'm upfront that i'm a black woman, and they calmly explain to me what their goals are. they evangelize.
so, a united front against “radical” feminism is the easiest way in for them to convert more white people, and from there, once they’ve normalized extreme violent language against "enemy" women, they can more easily begin to problematize other tenets of the left. the trust has been earned. the government should be violently overthrown, right? and what’s in place of it? an anarchist utopia where the people make their own laws, right? and maybe where people who want to be with their own kind, who want to start big families should be left alone, right? patriarchy is intoxicating—marx himself was an abusive patriarch. and most white people are deeply suspicious of non-white people (this is a tenet on the left, after all, that white people are all racist 😬), so obviously for the safety of non-white people, we should encourage separatism, to some extent, right? that's what nazis tell me--the races just aren't meant to mix, and it's best for everyone. it's not a hard sell for white leftists. i mean, they historically love black seperatism—they supported the black panthers, right? (by the way, i am a black feminist and i put black women first. the original panthers were a leftist organization where misogyny was a core value to the extent that black women had to break away and form their own groups, because some of the most powerful men in the panthers were avowed rapists and abusers.) so this isn’t a hard sell for black and brown men, either, because machismo and patriarchy are strong values in every culture; just look at andrew tate and kanye, two of the most prominent alt-right figures—they’re black. and look at hassan, a MENA man, and so deeply committed to misogyny in the name of “marxism”.
in the end, there is no real difference between the goals of these guys. they want “freedom”, they want the independence to rule their little domain as they see fit, and they want to murder their political enemies. i am very active in irl political circles, especially my union, and it is full of these violent, borderline-psychopathic leftist men who don’t care about social justice whatsoever (“restorative justice” is only for rapists, ig), but they do care deeply about violence and subjugating their enemies. i’m not saying all leftist men are like this—i also know incredible male allies who are deeply committed to real justice and care. what I am saying is that young men, especially those who really only ever post online about their politics, are susceptible to extremist ideologies writ large. they can accept, coexist, and even cooperate with alt-right men when their goals and beliefs align, and sometimes they even have a “come to Jesus” moment and see that, perhaps, for them, the alt-right has the answers they’re looking for. we have a name for this: the alt-right pipeline. and it sucks water from many wells. stay vigilant and take the advice of our radical sisters and sistas from the 1970s—never trust a man just because he says he’s a marxist. 
if you have something to add, please do feel free to reblog with commentary, or even just to boost if you found it useful!
edit: reading list!
daniel lombroso (author of white noise and many articles), who embedded with the modern alt-right movement on the internet. i also recommend the work of the following academics who write about white nationalism as a movement and how it lures "normal" (apolitical) and sometimes even leftist radicals into its sphere of influence:
thomas frank (author of what's the matter with kansas? which is the definitive work that traces the roots of leftist radicalism to modern extreme right movements in america)
george lipsitz (author of the possessive investment in whiteness)
dan carter (author of the politics of rage)
theda skocpol (author of the phenomenal states and social revolutions who later wrote about the tea party movement)
rick perlstein (author of nixonland, one of the best history monographs ever written imo, was my go-to in grad school)
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cece693 · 2 months
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Pain (Lestat de Lioncourt x Male Vamp. Reader)
This small fic came to me while looking through Pinterest. You know those little 'aesthetic' quotes? Well, it came from this one specifically:
'I loved you even when it hurt.'
This fic includes things from both the movie and TV show, so no specific Lestat was used for inspiration. Enjoy.
Summary: On the anniversary of his transformation, m/r can't help but remember his past: one that includes his ex-lover and sire, Lestat de Lioncourt.
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M/n was tired. Though his outward appearance betrayed no signs of aging—no wrinkles, no gray hair, no creaking bones—the weight of centuries bore down on him. As he gazed at the midnight sun, a harbinger of his impending retreat to his coffin, m/n decided to indulge himself and spend more time out in the open. After all, this was the only time he could enjoy the new wonders of the world, yet this was not just any ordinary day. Tonight marked the anniversary of m/n's transformation into one of the undead.
Reflecting on the past, m/n reminisced about the persuasive allure of Lestat, the vampire who had sweet-talked his way around rationality, promising a life brimming with pleasure and abundance. In the initial decades, it was a splendid existence.
Lestat had a way of making m/n feel truly special. The once mundane aspects of mortal life were now elevated to extraordinary heights in the vampiric realm, and Lestat made sure m/n felt the full extent of his newfound powers.
There were moonlit strolls through shadowy alleyways, where Lestat shared the secrets of their immortal world. He spoke of the intoxicating thrill of the hunt, the taste of forbidden blood, and the freedom that came with transcending the limitations of mortality. Lestat created a world where every moment felt like an eternity of bliss. However, m/n should've known his novelty would wear off. Lestat was a man driven by desire and ambition, wanting to taste the newest and finest things in life. What would m/n offer to such a monster who had already taken everything? So when Lestat's attention was redirected to another human named Louis, m/n felt pain.
He was angry at Lestat for casting him aside, yet the blame couldn't be placed on him alone—m/n should've known that a creature such as Lestat could never be tied down, despite how much he proclaimed to love you. So, when the ethereally beautiful vampire introduced Louis as his newest creation, a realization dawned on m/n. Lestat wasn't his anymore.
And Louis, the unwitting figure in their love triangle, bore no blame for his and Lestat's fallout. M/n grappled with conflicting emotions, attempting to cultivate hatred towards the vampire who seemed to have stolen Lestat away. Yet, against his own efforts, all he could muster was pity. For as much as Louis and Lestat showcased their 'love' through tender kisses and clandestine touches, m/n saw through the facade.
In the quiet moments when Lestat thought no one was watching, m/n observed the flickers of longing and boredom in the vampire's blue eyes. It became evident that the passion between Louis and him, while palpable, was also marred by perpetual restlessness. Not even months into Louis' stay did the cracks in their relationship begin to manifest themselves.
"Out with Antoinette?" Louis would hiss, the accusatory tone hanging heavy in the air, ensuing another argument between the two. As the discord between Louis and Lestat escalated, M/n found himself unwittingly becoming a refuge for Lestat. The vampire, seeking solace in the familiar, turned to M/n whenever the storms of conflict raged with Louis. In those moments of anger, Lestat was M/n's again, yet it also drove him to the brink of madness and unhappiness.
He had days, if lucky, where things would go back to how they were—a semblance of the love they once shared. But whenever the storms settled between Louis and Lestat, m/n would be relegated to loneliness once more. One day, unable to bear the emotional rollercoaster any longer, he confronted Lestat. The air was thick with tension as they stood facing each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them.
"You can't keep doing this, Lestat." M/n pleaded, the frustration and anguish evident in his voice. "Keep me here when you clearly love Louis. How would you like it if I were to do the same?"
M/n regretted saying anything as Lestat's eyes darkened, and a snarl emerged on the vampire's lips. In a sudden, swift motion, Lestat pinned m/n to the wall, his grip firm and possessive. The room seemed to close in as Lestat hissed, "You belong to me."
"I don't belong to anyone." M/n retorted, anger engulfing his body.
Lestat laughed coldly in his face, grip tightening, he smirked. "That's where you're wrong, love," he taunted, his voice dripping with both amusement and cruelty. "I own you…"
The possessive declaration sent a chill down m/n's spine, his anger giving way to a growing sense of unease. Lestat's dark laughter reverberated in the confined space, echoing the shifting power dynamics between them. Trapped against the wall, m/n felt the weight of Lestat's control, a dominance that left him conflicted and vulnerable.
Lestat's smirk widened, his gaze predatory as he continued, "You're mine to protect, mine to control. I've tasted your blood, felt your heartbeat sync with mine. You're bound to me in ways you can't comprehend."
M/n, trapped against the wall, felt a cold chill run down his spine at Lestat's words. The once cherished intimacy between them now felt like chains, binding M/n to a fate he hadn't fully understood.
In a moment of intense emotion, Lestat, fueled by the strange dance of power and desire, leaned in, capturing m/n's lips in a possessive kiss. The meeting of their mouths was both a declaration of dominance and a desperate attempt of Lestat's to re-establish his control over m/n. Perhaps, in his pursuit of novelty and excitement, he had unknowingly neglected his first creation in favor of the alluring Louis. However, what neither m/n nor Louis knew was that, hidden beneath the layers of Lestat's charismatic exterior, there existed a capacity for love.
As Lestat's lips sought dominance in the heated kiss, there was an intricate play of emotions beneath the surface.
The neglect that m/n had felt wasn't an absence of love but rather a reflection of Lestat's internal struggle to navigate the complexities of immortal relationships. Lestat, a vampire with a history of numerous lovers, had reveled in the pleasures of passion without feeling a deep emotional connection—until m/n entered the picture. Even his intense relationship with Louis didn't compare to the profound connection he shared with m/n.
As the intensity of their heated kiss began to wane, Lestat pulled away, his eyes fixed on m/n with a mixture of possessiveness and intensity. "If you dare to run away," Lestat whispered, "Know that I'll drag you back to my side. And that's a promise."
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permian-tropos · 10 months
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metropolis, an essay
today in the new york metropolitan area, the sky is getting chalky overhead again, due to wildfire smoke spreading from canada. while the west coast has been pummeled by wildfire smoke year after year, the east coast finally gets its fair share of the most aesthetically consonant part of the climate crisis—where the sky turns scary apocalyptic colors and the air tastes like ash. two things are on my mind: that the wealth hoarders who used their power to delay critical action against climate change deserve rage, and that the rising ride of global fascism is poised to co-opt that rage and then drive us all into hell. 
I’m gonna write a little essay about it, most of the facts off the top of my head, I hope my memory is correct about everything. it’s about the most impactful movie of my life, that is also my ideological nemesis.
one of the first films I ever watched (first time I was like, two years old) that stuck in my mind was fritz lang’s metropolis, and I’ve revisited it over and over throughout the years and I have a tendency to shove it and my analysis of it down people’s throats every chance I get. because it is gorgeous and striking and very worth watching—if you have the extremely important context that the co-writer of the film, fritz lang’s wife thea von harbou, joined the nazi party, while fritz lang divorced her and fled germany, evading the nazis’ attempts to recruit him into their propaganda machine.
metropolis is very dear to my heart because visually it was extremely inspired by new york city, and I cannot help but think of the german expressionist haze over the skyscrapers when I see pictures of downtown manhattan consumed by wildfire smoke. 
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it is a nazi film that was directed by a man seemingly who did not realize he was making a nazi film, because it didn’t aggressively scapegoat anyone or promote german nationalism or call for militarism and conquest. that is why I perversely love this film; it so aptly demonstrates fascism sneakily corrupting a socialistic message long before people have been tricked into racial hatred. it shows you the seed of bad ideology.
metropolis tells the story of a deeply unequal society of upper and lower classes, where the proletariat labors in a hellscape under the city while those on the surface enjoy high culture and luxury while managing those below. 
I’m not going to discuss the main character of the film much but he is a rich ass boy whose call to adventure is that he goes down and sees how badly the workers are treated and compares their toil to victims being sacrificed to a barbaric god (european capitalists be like: what are we a bunch of indigenous people? but okay sure, mechanistic rather than religiously-motivated human sacrifice is normalized in capitalist society, is a point I’ll gladly make) 
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blaaaaaaarghh look at that guy. it’s moloch!! the devil himself. eating the shit out of the working class. 
there are two characters who propose solutions to the workers, and fittingly one is the doppelganger of the other. the saintly maria promises the workers that a savior will come to resolve the class contradictions between the “head” (upper class, management) and the “hands” (laborers). he will be the “heart” and this sounds nice but you have to remember this is nazi shit so what I see is that this abstract idea of a city/state/nation’s “heart” is the seed of fascism
not to mention, that people have been sorted into “head” and “hands” is treated as a fact of nature. the proletariat will always be the dumb brutish power and those who manage them will always be the brains behind society. the only way to resolve the contradiction is to... <3 bring them together in love and peace and harmony <3 
and QUITE INTERESTINGLY TO ME, there is a total omission of any sort of enforcement of class inequality by a police force. there is like, one character who is a bit of a henchman/secret police hired by the protagonist’s father, the city ruler, but other than that, no cops are putting the working class in their place. state brutality is not needed to convince the proles to stay in their place. just their intrinsic understanding of their place in the world
fascist propaganda pretends that the world runs the way it does on natural inherent distinctions between human beings, and that no enforcement is needed, while it actually is the most cop ass ideology of all time. 
so what is the “heart” that unites the national bourgeois ruling class and the proletariat without eliminating the class distinctions between them and simply causing them to be equal human beings...? if you remember this is a nazi film you may guess the real answer (hating scapegoated minorities), but the film skillfully avoids specificity because it was co-written by a nazi and a possibly unsuspecting non-nazi. there are no villainous subhuman groups in the film. just... well... a nonhuman villain and the single bad guy who creates her. 
presenting the alternative to maria’s pacifism is the glorious ~robot maria~ who is famous for inspiring george lucas in his design of c-3po and doctor who in its design of the cybermen. 
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don’t worry, those beams of light give her a pretty face so she can pass as an adult human female and trick those gullible workers and bougies alike into wanting to have fuck with her  
she is essentially a golem, created by a rather jewish-coded villain (I recall the doors in his lair have stars on them, albeit five pointed, not six), who wants to undermine society by inciting it into violent revolution. but he’s not literally jewish, so that could fly under the radar. he’s just a mean and nasty magician-scientist with a grudge against the city’s ruler and lust for his dead wife. but instead of recreating the dead wife, the city’s ruler commands him to make the robot into maria so she can be discredited to the workers because even her liberal ass bullshit is too much for him.
the inventor lets his robot loose on the underworld and she riles the workers into a frenzy and calls upon them to smash their machines, rise up to the surface, and destroy the city. in the meantime she also puts on a hot sexy dress and dazzles the bourgeois with cabaret or whatever basically it’s decadence the movie is portraying decadent degenerate lust as distracting the bougies from what’s going on below
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this is the cultural marxist agenda: sexy ladee. but of course the movie itself IS this very spectacle embodied, you get to look at this sexy robot while shaking your head and going I don’t agree with that
anyway the workers, because they are very stupid, make a critical mistake in their revolution: they forget about their children and leave them behind in the underground as it is being flooded because they’ve destroyed the critical infrastructure keeping it un-flooded. 
because the working class would never rise up for the sake of their children’s future! no they don’t care about that they’re just yknow selfishly trying to escape a horrific life of toil in a literal hell, because an evil robot tricked them into being angry and also noticing there are no fucking cops in this city so who’s stopping them from revolting 
anyway thanks to the brave actions of rich boy and pacifist liberal maria, the future of white working class children is secured. rich boy is declared to be that savior and “heart” of metropolis (oh yeah and that big machine they smashed earlier was called the heart machine).  
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I feel like I’ve made my point clear enough throughout this essay, but in conclusion: metropolis promises to resolve class contradictions by simply granting an idea of a nation or of some nebulous “heart” to the bourgeois and proletariat alike. it does not ask society to be restructured, it does not question the unequal state of things, it simply says: we need a savior to make people feel unified. 
and so it presents the nazi vision without once promoting genocide or imperialism. once you’ve been coaxed into ignoring the role that state oppression plays in maintaining class, once you’ve been convinced through lies of omission that the working class is made of humans who are inherently workers and the owner/ruler/manager class is full of inherent brainlords who were born to manage and dictate, you will start to be pulled down the road to fascism. 
and it’s still a beautiful movie. I never forget that, I never try to pretend it is ugly or does not move me. I’m just aware of the games it’s playing and how its message eventually leads into the genocide of my ancestors. 
finally: we stan robot maria, who is mother af, and is trans jewish golem coded to me, and also right
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I 100% agree with your tags about what could have made EE look a little better. I really didn't mind RR as much as EE probably because it at least retained the Blazblue aesthetic and style. RR felt like a weird knockoff Blazblue game, BBDW was an actual Blazblue VN dressed up as a gatcha game (my possibly unpopular opinion is that if BBTAG can be considered a legitimate part of the series so can BBDW), EE doesn't even feel like a knockoff it just feels like Blazblue characters in a completely unrelated game. And from what has been revealed about EE's story this may literally be the case as in that is the whole plot. That I feel is what specifically gives off the "parading around the corpse of the Blazblue franchise" feel to me.
A quick salt warning; I aim to fall somewhere in the range of neutrality on this blog, particularly when dealing with Entropy Effect. I want people to be able to enjoy the game fairly and to feel safe sharing that excitement here! I'm willing to try to meet the game on fair, even ground. That said, when it comes down to my own biased feelings, I would've married BBDW if I could've, and I already have some pretty strongly negative feelings about the studio behind Entropy Effect. So I have a bad taste in my mouth about this upcoming game. I don't plan on being particularly harsh in this post, but I will be sharing my uncensored opinions here. No disrespect meant.
Now. Carl. Oh my god, Carl. I'm dying, Carl.
I played Revolution Reburning while waiting for BBDW to launch, trying to scratch the "upcoming game hype" itch, and the gameplay was super fun! But damn did it leave me with a serious hatred for the game itself and the studio behind it. The game has a story mode that is poorly translated, horribly bastardized/watered down, and just... just really bad. I'd respect it as a fan game, but the fact that it's a legitimate thing just pushes my buttons too damn much. Call it a pet peeve.
Again, the game is fun! It's cool! I really enjoyed playing it! There is not an ounce of doubt in my mind that Entropy Effect will be fun as hell, because this studio knows how to make a fun game.
But I really, really wish they weren't involved in BlazBlue. As I mentioned elsewhere, a lot of my rage comes from this sense that what I personally love about the BlazBlue series [the story, the setting, the world Mori has crafted since his youth] has been placed in a zero-sum game against another totally enjoyable aspect of the series [gameplay, and if I'm feeling bitter, the whims of ArcSys's marketing team.] It's not like these two facets actually need to be opposed to one another. Hell, they should be flourishing in tandem. But after everything that happened with BBDW and Mori leaving the studio, I can't let go of the idea that projects that focus more on gameplay and consumer appeal [such as EE] are being pursued "instead of" or "at the cost of" the parts of the series I love the most. So. I get salty. I do, genuinely, hope that time proves me wrong on this.
You, Carl, mentioned EE's story. Like you said, everything we've seen of it so far suggests this isn't even a real "spinoff" title for BlazBlue, in the sense that spinoffs like RR and CrossTag told their stories using the same building blocks as BlazBlue's setting. I personally don't interpret them as existing within the same canon, but they're undoubtedly using the same material.
Entropy Effect's story and setting seem to be entirely original. They look interesting, but I'm stuck with this feeling of "why the hell did they make this a BlazBlue title, and not just an original one?" Maybe when the game releases it will surprise me and I'll understand, but at the moment, with my current levels of saltiness, it feels like a heartless cash grab.
We know there's some level of turbulence behind the scenes at ArcSys around the BlazBlue IP, since BBDW's failure and Mori's suspicious departure. We also know that in the current media landscape, a lot of executive heads are rampantly refusing original projects and insisting on pumping out installments of franchises that already have a name and a following. I don't have any information on whether or not ArcSys is struggling with this, but it's been a growing problem in the gaming industry for years now.
The worst case of this in my memory is the Dead Rising franchise, another one of my all-time favorite games. Differing visions for the franchise and an unwillingness to support new properties let to an absolute mess on the development side of things, and ultimately the death of the series.
Note; If you're interested in what happened to Dead Rising, Did You Know Gaming has a wonderful video on it.
With that experience in my memory, I'm worried about the future of BlazBlue. I wonder if it was always the plan to make Entropy Effect a BlazBlue title, or if it was originally pitched as its own IP, but rejected unless it could be tied in to an established franchise.
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jiraikwei · 2 months
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pet peeve
sorry this post just turns into insane ranting garble i start sounding like im 12 , theres nothing of substance to read
this is something insanely stupid and even hypocritical of me to get annoyed at , but i absolutely cannot stand it when people online pretend like they're more mentally ill than they are . i hate when people put some sort of mental illness wordsalad in their bios like ' jirai ' , ' landmine girl ' , ' menhera ' i hate when people obviously try to act like ame / kangel after playing NSO or some other fictional character when they were absolutely nothing like them before . they practically brag about being mentally ill and then only showcase the same 5 symptoms that are insanely fetishized and none of the 100 others that aren't as ' cute ' . it makes me lose my mind . it feels like such a disgusting mockery it makes me want to rip my skin open . i cant stand even imagining anyone could see these shitty obvious yandere larp posts and put op on the same level as someone whos actually struggling . just this unbridled rage festers inside of me you dont know what its like stop fucking quoting anime characters so you can achieve some aesthetic go fuck yourself
i hate it because i hate myself and i hate the things i do , witnessing someone grift on the KAWAII DESU symptoms while im on a private twitter account typing the most disgusting unforgivable things i can possibly conjure up about the people i love because of how angry i feel over something so idiotically , stupidly minuscule like an actual fucking child . i cant make a single friend in my life because im genuinely so terrified of people and their intentions with me that when i somehow make a friend i genuinely think that they're only playing some long con because they want to ruin my life . im so lonely but i legitimately cannot handle having friends because they can say ANYTHING and my mind will twist it to some insane act of pure hatred against me and then my hands are shaking and i cant focus on anything for the next few hours and i cant stop crying and cutting myself and im planning extensively how to tell them i cant be friends with them because i just cant take it anymore and oh nevermind suddenly im fine again . but at the same time if someones too nice all the time my fucking brain will start losing interest in them because apparently i NEED them to pull away from me and be a fucking asshole to me because im some sort of insane emotional masochist !!! i cant speak my mind with anyone even if they're obviously in the wrong and being mean to me when ive done nothing because i just know they're going to leave if i reciprocate with any sort of pushback so i just ghost them instead which makes the situation even more complicated or i have some sort of tantrum where i accuse them of the most schizotypal shit instead of actually discussing it like a normal person . its actually indescribable how embarassing it is to retain that " my parents didnt buy me candy so they hate me " mindset from when i was 8 years old all the way until 15 . and everything with me has to be some sort of extreme . i cant even like something normally i have to be obsessed with it to an emotionally deteriorating degree . i cant feel somewhat bad about something it had to feel like my world is ending and that ill never be happy again . why am i fucking feeling like this because of the sub count of a VTUBER . and then all of life is just a cycle of yearning for shit and feeling bad for myself " why cant i do this why cant i be better at this you can either be bad or a prodigy and im not a prodigy and i dont care if im 15 i need to be better than 28 year olds at this or else im a total fucking failure " and i fucking bet you if i would ever reach that prodigy status i would feel absolutely nothing about it and my brain would latch unto the next thing to feel bad about " ok well im not good at * that * i need to be good at * that * it doesnt matter if im good at * this * anyone can be good at * this * i need to be good as * that * as well " . it is legitimately either all or nothing with me and i cant stand either of those options . i hate feeling empty and i hate being obsessed with someone to the point of emotional spiraling 5 times a day but there can never be an inbetween option . im intensely angry about everything
and the most insanely retarded part about all of this , is that given the choice i wouldnt want to get better . this is all that i am . i am nothing without this disorder . if i dont have this disorder nobody will care about me or be gentle with me anymore . i will forever mentally be a child that only wants someone to take care of them and if i dont have this disorder there will be nothing to take care of . nobody will care . but heres the kicker ; nobody cares already . strangers are gentle with me because i have a sad look in my eyes but thats all there is . i just cant bring myself to actually talk about what i go through . all anyone sees is that im energetic and then suddenly sad within an single second interval or that i just stare ahead at shit like a zoo animal or that i cut myself sometimes . i cant even fully bring up and elaborate on extremely heavy topics that i go through on twitter or on this blog because it feels so wrong to imagine someone connecting something as dark as that with * me * . i want attention but i dont talk about shit . i dont want to talk about shit . i already utterly despise seeing the look people get in their faces when they somehow catch a glimpse at my sh scars or for gods sake fucking mentions it to me " dont do that to yourself " please dont worry about me and make me feel like a horrible burden when im trying my hardest to seem okay so i can be an enjoyable person to be around . having a person worried about someone as disgustingly rotted , parasitic and inhuman as me is the worst thing to inflect on someone , its like feeling bad for a dying cockroach . i mean just read the first part of this ramble to see how shitty of a person i am where i exaggerate my symptoms to make myself look like i suffer more than other people and put down anyone who dares to express their symptoms differently
its over for me
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cupidscatcafe · 4 months
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Giving EAH characters Pokèmon teams and my explanation of why I chose them + which I think would be their main
~Chariclo Arganthone Cupid~
Sylveon(Main): It evolves through affection
Clefa: I was going to do Clefairy since it evolves with high friendship but I felt like Cleffa just fit better for some reason
Mew: I think it just fits with her being a god
Decidueye: Its the Arrow Quill Pokémon and it fits with her whole bow & arrow thing
Banette: I wanted something ’scary’ to represent the fact she’s from Monster High, Banette is also a doll possessed by hatred and with enough love/care it will turn back into a toy which I think she could be helping it do 🤔
Silvally(Type: Full): It evolves through high friendship and it breaks free of its mask which I think is just really really cool
~Blondie Lockes~
Klefki: It holds keys! It would make it easier to break into peoples houses
Pokèdex Rotom: I just think she’d have a Rotom and it would, accidentally enter her MirrorPad or something 👍
Purrloin: They like to steal from people and I felt like that kind of matched the whole “breaking in and entering” thing
Teddiursa(Main), Stufful, & Ursaluna: Bear
~Ashlynn Ella~
Umbreon(Main): Umbreon is a night time evolution which is a reference Ashlynn’s whole “12 o’clock” thing (This could be switched out for an Espeon to match the “12 o’clock in the afternoon” thing in the episode “Ashlynn’s Fashion Frolic)
Mimikyu: It disguises itself with a cloak, kinda like the “disguise” she gets for the ball (Mimikyu is also my favourite Pokèmon so I wanted to give it to someone)
Pidove: In the og story Cinderella’s stepsisters have their eyes pecked out by pigeons
Talonflame: I just feel like she’d like Talonflame + another pigeon refrence
Trevenant: In the og story the Fairy godmother is a Hazel Tree next to her moms grave
Noctowl: It’s nocturnal, which is another refrence to the “12 o’clock” thing
~Duchess Swan~
Swanna(Main): Swan. Also for her pet swan Pirouette
Kirlia: It’s based on a ballet dancer
Ducklett: Same reason as Swanna, but its a duck
Galarian Zigzagoon: Kind of the same colour scheme(?)
Diancie: Theres no reason for this, I just couldn’t think of a 6th Pokèmon and my gf recomended it, it was supposed to be a place holder but I seriously couldn’t think of another one 😭
Gyarados: Red Gyarados is found in the Lake of Rage which is supposed to be a reference to the episode Duchess Swan’s Lake
~Lizzie Hearts~
Togedemaru(Main): I was going to give her a Shaymin to represent Shuffle (her hedgehog) but decided against it and Togedemaru was the next best thing
Vespiquen: Bee queen 🤯
Aegislash: It’s a knight which is usually associated with royalty, it being a sword could also be a “off with your head!” reference
Furfrou: The princess in that on XY episode had one, I think (Idk it’s been almost a year since I’ve wated it 😭)
Pyroar: “lions signify courage, strength, and power.” Which I think is perfect for Lizzie, they’re also the “king of the jungle”
Luvdisc: It’s just a heart and I strangely (kinda) cared about type match-ups for Lizzie so I wanted something to cancel out the fire type :3
~Briar Beauty~
Komala: It’s just always asleep 👍
Wurmple: This was just a reference to the Party Wurmple meme
Florges(Main) & Lilligant: I was trying to match the whole rose aesthetic thing
Ferrothorn & Spina: Both of these were supposed to be jokes on her pricking her finger on the spinning wheel but I’m not sure if it makes much sense
~Hopper Croakington II~
Cutiefly: Frogs eat flys so… y’know
Sobble: I think it matches his personality
Squirtle(Main): Hopper just gives me Squirtle vibes
Politoed: Literally the king of frogs
Spewpa & Riolu: Really no reason, I just love them and I think Hopper would too
~Cedar Wood~
Pikipek: It’s a woodpecker (this was funnier in my head)
Rowlet(Main) & Staraptor: Owls and Hawks represent truth and Cedar is cursed to tell the truth 🤯
Nuzleaf: It’s Pinocchio as a Pokèmon 🤔
Rattata: It matches her colour scheme
Shuppet: It’s the puppet pokèmon which is what Cedar is
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navree · 1 year
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Who do you think would've tamed Sunfyre after Aegon's death (Sunfyre lives in this au) i think it would have been Daeron the young dragon or Daena
I think it depends on how injured Sunfyre still is, since while it was his injuries from the battle against Moondancer that ultimately killed him, he was already pretty badly torn up from Rook's Rest (which is why the fact that he still made his way to Dragonstone to find Aegon is so incredibly insane to me that's Love babies), so it's entirely possible that he wouldn't have lived very long even without the second set of injuries as well. If Sunfyre's just regularly healthy and lives after Aegon dies (and again assuming this is a world where the extinction of the dragons doesn't happen because there was definitely something magical involved in that, why the Hell else did Morning only live to age 24 when dragons can live into their hundreds, something went On with that), then Daeron might be a good option, since I view Sunfyre as sharing a lot of characteristics with Daeron. Aemon the Dragonknight would also be a good option, I could see that happening for the aesthetics alone. And I don't know how much Targ blood she has in her or how much that's even required, considering Nettles was able to tame Sheepstealer, but if I get to be fully self indulgent I want Daenaera to claim Sunfyre next. Mostly because she's my angel girl and he's my baby boy and based on the personality I've assigned to Sunfyre I think they would mesh incredibly well.
There's also the real possibility that no one ever claims Sunfyre again. We know that some dragons just don't end up being claimed for a while, like Vermithor, and anyone in the royal family might have been a bit wary of claiming Sunfyre because, well, again depending on how AU this is, Sunfyre killed Aegon III's mother right in front of him and really threw his entire fear and hatred of dragons into overdrive, and if that's your husband/dad you don't want to be triggering his PTSD every single day. Not to mention Sunfyre himself was significantly closer to Aegon than most dragons are to their riders, almost to the level of Dany and her children, and we know that even ordinary dragonbonds can produce strong emotions (Vhagar's grief for Laena and her rage on Aemond's behalf, Dreamfyre nearly breaking out of the Dragonpit when Helaena died). So when you add that to the fact that Sunfyre and Aegon were definitely closer than the average dragon and dragonrider (and in my head they're basically so incredibly connected and loving to each other it's borderline mystical/telepathic), Sunfyre just wouldn't accept another rider after Aegon, he's too upset and grieved and he doesn't want anyone else, he won't entertain the idea or let anyone try.
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filhasdocaos · 2 months
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I am thrilled to be here, and I want to remind Richard [Move] that I think his film is extraordinary [BloodWork: The Ana Mendieta Story, 2009]. It is a true and deep homage as it clarifies so many dense sources that Ana opened and then tangled again for all of us. 
Facing cultural resistance was something that she and I constantly could discuss once we became friends. I am just going to share some associative connections between the remarkable coincidence and correspondences of our physical actions – because they really have to do with urgent permissions to regard the sensory, psychic realm in which the body manifests its own energy against constrictions and prohibitions. There is usually a 5- or 10-year difference between the images which I will share of our related works.
My influences began with the psychic phenomena of a Scottish nanny; it was she who taught me to pray to the moon and to inhabit the body that belonged with sheep and trees and rivers; and of course it was secret, my family was never to know. We had a pact – I was probably four or five years old, my family must never know what she showed me at midnight looking out the window. These forms of what, for me, would have been described as pantheism, reify themselves when I see the work of Ana, and when we finally meet each other in the mid-70s – when we’ve already produced this relay of connected work. The struggle has to do with the confines of essentialist theory, which was a way of constraining and marginalizing our fuller historic implications. Both of us were committed to the saturation of material, in that the body moves and is sustained by saturation within the extensivity of our sensory energy.
We are both researching, by the mid-70s, Maria Gimbutas, so that the Paleolithic as well as the Yoruba aspect of the inhabited body, the sacral body, are active – coincidentally, and these are very interesting coincidences. So for both of us, it seems there is a phylogeny that recapitulates mythology. It is the sense that there are certain energies and momentums that will be opened and coincidentally discovered and explored: so here’s the explicit body taking the deeper roots of genital sexuality into the recognition of forms of nature, and how we would interact and inhabit those forms of nature. In my notes I say that we have forgotten the danger, the dangers of depicting the explicit sensuous female body, we have forgotten how much hatred and resistance that inspired – rage, envy, domination. The use of the body was truly live and declared narcissistic. In the use of our bodies we shared the confluence of being despised in the art world throughout our early experiments, as mine from the 60s were hugely resisted and then Ana enters the force field of feminist issues in the 70s where feminist theory and research begins to tear down the determinations of narcissism, exhibitionism, but what enters in the field at that moment is the abject and the essentialist! In order to recognize that we were facing a new construct of deflections, that if the identification of the vital energies with nature and the body can only be ‘‘essentialist or abject,’’ we are still going to be denied full aesthetic authority.
In the 1960s any deeper eroticization had been profoundly suppressed: there is no female pronoun used for women until the mid-70s – hard to remember! There was no vocabulary for female genital sexuality. And Ana and I used to ask each other, why has the history of the chastity belt – the chador; clitoridectomy; nunnery; silencing the female – endured? How very lucky we were to exist barely escaping these punishments. We said that the violence against women relates to the whole patriarchal sense of violence against the natural world, and the resistance to gendered integrations, and of course Judeo-Christian traditions had prescribed the denial of sexuality as a source of wisdom and knowledge and the silencing of women’s experience.
I also meant to mention the influence of Maya Deren on both of us. I was very lucky when I first came to New York City in the 1960s to meet her through Stan Brakhage, to visit her place on Morton street and to recognize the very contrary configurations that young artists could go and study, as acolytes to distinguished influential artists; but since she was a woman I saw that the guys, the young guys, expected her to feed us, to give us whiskey and cigarettes – even though she didn’t have enough funds at the time to print her Haitian footage! We were very privileged to have her run the original film through her projector. We faced a very desperate configuration against the authority of women artists, and especially a sexualized vision; and then it begins to break down, it is always breaking down.
In our friendships we like to party, we like to drink. It was very important for Ana that when I came to her house, being tall, I could change her light bulbs.
With her death, it became significant that Ana did not like to even stand on a chair. She could throw herself in the water and onto branches and bury herself in dirt, but she had vertigo. In the mid-70s I’m enduring mud pieces where I’m drying myself in puddles; it’s an ordeal work, it takes forever, and then there’s the silueta of Ana at the same time. We felt a profound affinity; a deep sisterhood as well as we did with Mary Beth Edelson. There was this sisterhood and it was dynamic and helped us do the work. And what has changed is that we’re all here thinking about the power of the work, the sustainable beauty, the incredible presence, how inhabited it is, that it escapes any of the delimitating definitions that surrounded it earlier on. The dream that Ana sent me – which is so well described in Richard’s film, and described by my incredible disbelief when the guys building the shelves in my loft come in and say, ‘‘Gee, look at the newspaper, ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Carl Andre’s wife is dead!’’ – the dream she sent me was to go out into the snow and make forms with my body. I ran out in a nightgown and made images just with my hands in the snow and then I realized I wanted to stabilize it, to sustain it, so I gathered blood and ashes and what else, maybe there was red paint. The local IGA grocery in the country where I live was very suspicious when I wanted pints of blood; it was for Spanish sausage, I explained! So that’s the homage and as some of you know if you’ve read Naked by the Window, Ana sent quite a few artists dream instructions so this was not a unique manifestation. There’s another realm from our beyond that produced homage to Ana.
Thank you everybody.
Carolee Schneemann, Regarding Ana Mendieta, 2011. Transcribed by Raegan Truax-O’Gorman. From Women & Performance: a journal of feminist theory 21, no. 2 (July 2011): 183–190. ↘︎ https://www.schneemannfoundation.org/writing/regarding-ana-mendieta
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wcmcink · 1 year
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how we are
it is through these binary positions that we navigate the real, that we find truth… the truth isn’t that one aspect is good & one aspect is bad, or so & so’s a hero & so & so’s a villain (the idea of the movie theatre is to walk out of it, not make the movie), the reality of these binary oppositions exists somewhere in the interstices. thats how they get you in the end— they make you aware of all these different options & demand that loyalty insists that you choose one & stick to that one. we have duality, we have more than duality, we have many different things living inside of us & we must honor that. we are plural. we must evacuate these things of all weighted definitions if we seek to come to terms with our life. the balance.
i woke up this morning with the presidents thesis on the ground…
i started my thesis on aesthetics & practice years ago & never finished it—
i read somewhere in an article “a naked exposure to the rage of the world…” maybe i am mad; but i ain’t stressing…i take too much prozak to be mad…i’m a big fan of western pharmacology…big narcotic titty… she’s a maniac, maniac, on the dance flooor… there is so much junk rattling around my brain… just for today i will try to resist the social programming of the system…don’t be an incel, get laid, be somebody…its not her fault she doesn’t like you bro…who hates you baby…you know what don’t make it up to me, make it up to someone else at this point…
i put some rites of spring on (not stravinsky), i don’t even know what happened to that t-shirt… i’m always losing my shit in my radical moves, could you imagine what it was like seeing guy picciotto dangle off the headboards in the school gymnasium screaming, “i, i, believe memory by memory no reflections on me…”? righteous bro.
i’ve been experimenting with new forms, new ideas, new poetry, capped my book, started a third one… busy…busy…busy… it approaches pop in a digital field… you know something on c-86 or the wedding present would sing about…
tales from the creator/ the third collect for peace
putting it down for bitches on the block the mommas its war, pig slime or whatever your nAme is jump that pussy wide open fuck a little bit get some i pose right & all the cup-cakes you can eat bro, have you ever seen frogs fight? i got this app on my phone 'cus... playing off i was taken away the sacrifices of god is a broken spirit more ministers than a deck of cards these are the wages of a broken heart prepare the dry lands & love sees through you real less than along & how to hide someone from memories the young lions on the bed... living with the man was never easy... watch my three & celebrate the days of the week dance in the fear & sleep in the madness/  it takes you
if you wanna know the truth i don’t believe in anything, most days i’m too busy in the politics of survival to believe anything. i have ideas sure, ideas i share & open to discussion; but beliefs are at odds with practice… if you believe something & are engaged in some kind of dogmatic ritual, you can’t change your practice when it no longer suits you, so to speak. change, change, change & change again until your expression has reached its final form (it never reaches finality, it continues… purposefully). 
fear or hate thats all there is in the city. narrate yourself against it, remember your heart, remember your mind. the withered bones of a hateful man, perverted by fear…come on old man…i don’t want to understand, i don’t need to.
i hit a guy last night at a meeting. makes me think of an embrace lyric don’t “mistake hatred for courage…” where will i go now? i’m a changed man… i’m up early again 4:37, sometimes i get decent sleep but most days i’m awake, listening to the feed trail off into no-where in particular… you know “grilling on the feed again”… it sucks but its the way it is…something i wrote, something that got lost in the interstices…no more poems for the sky & i’m not better than making a few bucks…
when i would go out on the streets, lived is far fetched… i would make music, poems, & toss them around into nothing… it was my contribution to the universe; tell you the truth it would’ve been nice to see some dividends as opposed to the odd twenty bucks some citizen would throw my way…or being smoked out…i always called them poems for the sky…every-time i came in i would swear no more, no more talking to myself, no more grilling on the feed, no more push & pull, sanity, integration into a system that works for me… even anarchy is a system of ideas… not like i’m such a crusty, but anyway i digress…chimp & sneer, the battlegrounds…
i’m in favour of never learning your lesson…where life teaches no lessons, offers no wisdom but nature & the viccissitudes of…this isle is filled with noises…when the thought is in the action, i kind of believe “hey, you left it out bro…” 
haven’t you seen anyone talk with their hands before? bullshit you’re throwing up…when even gentle words won’t do/
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thechaoticsuper · 1 year
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An Open Letter to Nazi "Punks"
Why? Why do you insist on existing in a space that is not only fundamentally against you but also stands against your own beliefs? What machine do you think people are raging against? It isn't simply your parents or boss telling you what you can or can't do. It's the machine that chews up and spits people out when it's done with them. The machine that's run off of the flesh and blood of those unfortunate to not be born into the upper echelons of society. When you exist as part of the machine - or when you perpetuate that harm caused by it - how can you say to rage against it short of a misunderstanding of what punk is?
And this isn't to say that you have to be so marginalized to be allowed to be punk - the movement was started by the working class white man. It was a movement against classism, against a system that pitted human against human. So honestly anyone can be - and really everyone should be punk. But its not enough to throw on a jacket and listen to Sex Pistols. Punk isn't just an aesthetic or a taste in music. It is, honestly, a way of life. And that lifestyle is rooted in pushing for true equity. Joe Strummer of The Clash even said it, "in fact, punk rock means exemplary manners to your fellow human beings."
And that love for each other that Strummer is talking about isn't an unthinking limitless love. It means getting pissed when people are being treated unfairly. It means standing up for the oppressed and the marginalized and getting pissed off when those people are stepped on. Existing as a queer Asian is inherently punk because I exist in a system that wishes I were dead - that pushes for me to be killed off. How can you claim to be punk when you join in with that very system?
And I'm not trying to gatekeep the movement. I'm genuinely confused. I don't understand how people can listen to music by The Clash or Dead Kennedys or even Green Day and not hear what's being said. I don't understand how people can listen to these songs that talk about the lethal oppressiveness of the system and join in on that oppression. I don't understand how you can claim to be punk because you're lower class but then vote for a system that tightens the stranglehold with every passing legislature. You vote against your fellow human beings even though it inevitably tightens that grip around your neck and everyone knows it. Why? Is your hatred of your neighbour that powerful that you'll kill yourself to kill them? And it makes sense for you to turn around and claim to be punk?
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quasi-normalcy · 2 years
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Nerd Rage, general hatred of Amazon, and, yes, a certain degree of racism are surely aspects of it for some people, but I think that the backlash against the "Rings of Power" is more prosaic than any of this.
What I think that it boils down to is that "Lord of the Rings" was made with love. Tolkien was certainly not writing it to make huge amounts of money off of it, he did it out of love; the generations of children who grew up RPing Elves and drawing detailed maps of Osgiliath and somehow forcing their way through the text of the Silmarillion were acting out if love; even, yes, the Peter Jackson movies, which were absolutely capitalist enterprises from top to bottom, would not have been what they were without the love of the people working on them.
And then along comes Amazon, for whom this obsession, this passion, this love is just a market segment. Amazon, the economic equivalent of a malignant brain tumour, to which all things are always and only IP to be consumed. And they show complete disregard for the original text, because they just don't care. To them, it's an aesthetic. Something they can market to fans of Game of Thrones or the Witcher. A centrepiece for their own forays into streaming.
So that's the basis for the pushback. It's not because Galadriel has the wrong heraldry or because the Dwarven women are beardless. It is the revolt of culture against being puréed, processed, and packaged into #Content
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roses-withthorns · 2 years
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Richard Papen & Anger
The change in Richard in the second half of the book really amplifies his characterization. The entirety of the book Richard is quite nonchalant and unfeeling, yet after Bunny’s death we really begin to see this anger from him that no one is safe from. I believe deep down Richard was always an angry character it just takes a little while for him to show us the evidence of that. Through the beginning of the book there are several times he seems quite irritated with those around him (for whatever reason he never expresses in detail). But toward the end of the book that irritability and indifference really begins to shift toward something akin to rage. This in my opinion is caused by: 1) The stress of having witnessed and aided in a murder and 2) The fact that his perfect little friend group is falling apart. 
Richard is obsessed with the aesthetic and with beauty, however, the moment that starts to fall away, he shows us a different side of himself. One major part of text that I think is evident of this, is how angry he gets with Camilla when she visits him after she moved to the Albemarle. Camilla is a person he has only looked at affectionately throughout the entire book but at this point in time he blames her for ruining things by leaving Charles, and the sheer hatred he expresses, stems from that. He has a similar reaction to Henry, whenever Henry shows no intention on patching up his relationship with Charles or making Camilla go back home. (ripping the gardening sheers out of his hand and throwing them against a wall). 
I think this, though it takes a while to see it, is not just a side effect of stress but is just who Richard is deep down. He gives us hints throughout the first half of the book that people think he has a “bad temperament”, and that he can come off stand-offish. And though I think in some ways he is blind to it himself; that is a part of who he is. (I also can’t imagine what his attitude would have been like before he went to Vermont. He was very discontent in Plano and I’m sure his attitude is why he didn’t have many friends. Maybe partly why his parents (mostly his mother) hold no interest in him. Overall, he is so interesting.
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rosietrace · 2 years
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Pomefiore Addams AU
It was a lovely time in the land of Pyroxene.
The latest fashion trends remained for a long time, talented actors with much potential get scouted, and so on and so forth.
But there is one family in the Land of Pyroxene that acts as it's only anomaly.
The Shard Family.
A family of great beauty and talent that seclude themselves in an extravagant mansion, filled with the most enviable riches that one could only dream of.
The head's of the household and it's residents, Vivian Marigold and Florian Shard have currently went on a business trip to the Valley of thorns to rekindle old and broken relationships, leaving the responsibilities of head of the house to their eldest son.
Vil Schoenheit Shard. Easily one of the most attractive of the family and one of the most talented. Especially for his flare for the dramatic like his younger brother, Rook.
Vil often finds it difficult to be the temporary head of the house while his family is on a business trip for who knows how long, and often finds comfort in his sister, Victoria.
Victoria is far more knowledgeable among her siblings, and would often ramble about the most morbid of things with Rook while Vil looks at them in amusement. On the other hand, their younger brother Epel finds their rambling somewhat disturbing, but endearing enough.
It also happens that two other members of the clan had recently moved into the mansion.
Evonie Apfel(Pseudonym) and Neige Shard, both of which are more familiar with the outside world compared to their cousins(and sort of siblings in Vil's case with Neige).
Vil, and Victoria have a raging passion in their hearts that stem from hatred. Their hatred for their cousin, Neige. They would often try to harm Neige in various ways, but he miraculously survives their attempts thanks to Rook and Evonie. While Epel just sat down and watched in concern.
Evonie was somewhat hesitant to enter this new luxurious life, but soon adapted to it under Victoria's influence. She was born in a village after all, it became a bit challenging for her to properly adapt to this oddly new lifestyle of luxury and riches....
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Aesthetic
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" Hm... How odd, how does he manage to always survive... "
" He has to perish now, if not from us but from anything! Ugh, he gets on my nerves... "
" Fufu, now now you two, Mother and Father value Neige dearly so we should protest against him by risking his life~ "
" I... Suppose Rook has a valid point... Do you think so as well, Victoria? "
" In a way, yes... However, Neige will never not be so insufferable... "
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sirisuorionblack · 3 years
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Hey lmao how are you? I was wondering if I could have a Draco x Fem!Reader where someone is having a party on the lake of Hogwarts and the reader usually is really sassy and energetic, but she's really scared of water and doesn't know how to swim?
Best friend
Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Fem!Reader
Summary - Hufflepuffs, the kindest of all four houses, has hosted a lake-side party for all the houses and the beautiful result out of it is understanding of friendship and perhaps love.
Warnings - Speak of trauma, near-drowning experience (like once) and fear of water. Cursing. And lmk if anything else!
A/N Hello!! I am great. Hope you are having a good day/night! I really hope I stuck to the description of the reader cause I am not sassy and energetic so...the reader wasn't much of those. Anyways, have a happy read!
"Did you know?” Your friend, fretted as she sat down at the Slytherin table for breakfast, “the Hufflepuffs are hosting a “party“ near the black lake. It’s going to be like a day where you just “enjoy“ and do things near the lake? Whole Hogwarts is invited,”
“What is up with you and your finger quotes?” You chuckled, taking a sip of your pumpkin juice.
She rolled her eyes, “Just- are we going?”
“Do you want to go?” You asked her back.
“I mean,” she shrugged and frowned, “If you are going,”
You giggled shaking your head, “Even a frog is more decisive than you,”
”I am not being indecisive, I just have a tough time weighing the pros and cons,” she said and blushed as you burst out laughing, “Oh, shut it,”
“I can’t,” You said among your giggles.
She rolled her eyes and tugged you by the arm, “We are getting late for class, come on. Stand up, you twat!”
You stumbled to your feet and allowed her arm to link around yours. “Now, tell me - are we going?”
“You said the whole Hogwarts is gonna be there,” you said, looking at her pointedly.
She rolled her eyes and slapped your arm, “You know that was an over-exaggeration,”
”Who all are gonna be there?” You asked, “Answer honestly without exaggeration,”
”Fifth year and above in all houses,” She mumbled, monotonously.
“Alright then, you reckon we can go?” you asked again.
“Oh, I don’t know, you say!”
“Fine, fine. Merlin, calm down,” The two of you reached the Potions classroom and took your seat on the opposite ends of the classroom. You, next to Malfoy and your best friend next to Potter.
Draco moved his textbooks that were scattered across your shared table to his side, giving you some space. He then proceeded to lean against his arm and idly flip the pages of his textbook, completely ignoring your presence.
You took a seat next to him. Looking around the classroom you realised, Professor Slughorn was nowhere to be found, “Where is Slughorn?” you asked him.
He shrugged, “How would I know?”
“Right, my bad,” You said through gritted teeth, turning to face the empty blackboard the thought of the party your friend had mentioned surfaced your thoughts. You masked the scare for water as hatred. The trauma those had given you were a bewildering amount, the near-drowning situation you had been in was not something you would like to experience again. The mere thought of water made you shiver in fright and consequently, you had never learnt swimming.
But you had to think of your best friend, she was a lover of water - lake, sea, beach, all of them - and the black lake was her comfort spot and a party right by it was a gift to her and the all houses thing was something she could condemn as heaven.
Letting out a deep breath, you tore a tiny piece of parchment and roughly scribbled ‘Should we attend the party?’ and hissed for Draco’s attention.
Rolling his eyes, he turned to look at you, “What do you want?”
You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from saying anything, “Can you pass this to the girl sitting next to Potter?”
He looked around to spot Harry and after finding he whipped his head to look at you, “You want me to pass a tiny little note to someone across the class?!”
“Use your brain, Malfoy, just pass it, you know,” you motioned with your hand.
He glared at you with a clenched jaw but did it nonetheless. He whispered in a hushed voice to the next girl and you watched as the note reached your friend, who narrowed her eyes at you and then determinedly scribbled something.
She took out her wand and levitated the note to reach you. Draco, who watched the scene intently with crossed arms, scoffed.
“Piss off, Malfoy,” you mumbled, unfolding the note that read We are going and that’s final!
You grimaced, oh shit.
“What are you gonna wear!?” Your friend yelled as she burst into your dorm, startling you.
“Merlin’s underpants!” you yell, clutching your chest and taking deep breaths.
“That’s a weird one to wear,” she scrunched her nose in disgust, “Now tell me what are you gonna wear?”
Fetching the book you were reading that laid open at the foot of your bed, you said, “Is wearing a hoodie a choice?”
“No,” she said, sternly.
You grinned at her, “I am wearing that. Especially that black hoodie with the skull design,”
“I don’t even know why you like it,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, pushing your legs.
“Because it suits my aesthetic,” you said, flipping your messy hair dramatically.
She scoffed, “You are like a golden retriever that’s high,”
You blinked twice, “I love how you are trying to tell I am cute without telling I am cute but no,”
She rolled her eyes, “I will get you a dress,”
Two days later, your friend never showed you the dress, always smiling cheekily and shaking her head saying “it’s a surprise”. On the day of the party, she rushed to you, with a bag behind her back. She ushered you to stand in front of the floor-length mirror and asked you to close your eyes.
“I trusted your fashion sense so that dress better not be looking weird,” you said, your eyes still closed as you heard some ruffling behind you.
“Open your eyes,” she gushed. You chuckled when you saw the excitement in her eyes as your turned around.
You gasped, “that is so beautiful,” you breathed taking the dress in your hands. It was of a soft yellow colour dress, reaching till shins with floral print all over the dress. It was casual yet so beautiful.
“I know right!” you squealed, “put it on,”
After an hour or so you found yourself walking to the black lake and you had to chuckle as you found the overly energetic teens littered across the area, cups of juices in their hands, some in their swimsuit, some wearing casual cotton clothes such as yourself. 
Your eyes fell on a certain Slytherin, hanging out with his group. Draco had dark green shorts on, a white tee that hung loosely on his body. He wove his fingers into the platinum blonde hair that fell in strands with a wide grin on his face.
“The love of your life,” she said, smirking.
“Enough of watching your prince charming,” your best friend said, tugging on your arm.
You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, my knight in shining armour,”
“Ever heard of something named sarcasm?”
“You ever heard of something named teasing?”
“Yes, and I do not claim to like it much,”
She rolled her eyes.
By the end of the evening, the students were slowly disappearing, the mass of the students at the time of the raging party was completely dissipated with just a few older students standing next to the lake, or sitting against the bark of trees. You, yourself were leaning against one of the trees, the energy you had at the beginning all gone with the laughter and fear. Almost everyone who attended the party jumped into the lake at least once, playing around, splashing water on each other and swimming but you hadn’t even gone near the lake, rather reserved to the ground and entertaining the students who either refused to go in or those who already did.
“Hey,” You heard someone say. Draco sat down next, “Where is your best friend?”
“Somewhere in that mass,” you motioned collectively to one side.
He chuckled, “Ditched you?”
“Excuse you, Malfoy, but not all the best friends are the same,” you said, smirking at him.
He looked at you, an impressed expression on his face and chuckled, shaking his head, “Maybe,”
“Your not wrong,” he stated simply.
You breathed in relief, “You know for a minute I thought you would get that wrong,”
He ran a hand through his hair. This was totally unlike the Draco Malfoy that was usually seen, he looked different like he enjoyed himself instead of the ever stoic he and you found this side of him endearing. You find all of his sides endearing. A voice said, loudly.
“What?” you asked, confused and slightly scared.
“You know, about that best friends. Not all of them are same, indeed,” he said, looking at you by the corner of his eyes. His breath was taken away the moment his eyes landed on you when you arrived in the beautiful dress you had worn, he simply had no words to express how he felt at that moment, how you looked at that moment stunned by your beauty beyond recognition that he could barely form a coherent thought.
“Perhaps, but at times we have best friends who even we don’t know are,” you said, looking at him.
“Is that so?” he asked, turning to look at you.
You hummed, “Now, think about it,” you looked around the lake and found two students, quite blatantly a couple, “See there, that couple. Now, say the girl doesn’t have a friend,” you looked at him, checking if he is listening and continued once he nodded, “So, he consecutively becomes her best friend and boyfriend, and she might not even recognize it.”
“It could be anyone like that?” he asked.
“Anyone - a professor, your mother, father, sibling. At times even pets,” you said, “Sometimes this little thing is what forms love, and it necessarily isn’t romantic,”
“You do give beautiful philosophy lessons, don’t you?” he said, leaning back against the trunk.
You chuckled, shaking your head, “If I really were to give philosophy lessons, you wouldn’t always find me with a group of people,”
Draco grinned and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence before he asked a question, “You never came near the water. Why?”
“You noticed?” you said, looking shocked.
“I mean, yeah,” he shrugged.
“I don’t really like water,” You said, playing with your fingers. Getting on the hint about your discomfort on the topic he remained silent.
“Can someone who neither you nor they know much about be your best friend?” he asked, after staring at the moon for so long.
“What do “they” do to you?” you asked. Draco’s eyes skittered through the water, “Provide some-some sort of comfort at the same time making me feel…weird. Have the effect on me like their smile would make my day and their laugh, its the most beautiful, makes me feel...s-safe,”
“Draco,” you breathed, and chuckled, disregarding the feeling your stomach, “You are in love,”
He whipped his head to look at you, “Love?”
“Yep,” you said, shortly.
“I am?” he said, letting out a sharp breath.
“Seems to be,” you said, “I think it’s about time. I need to leave to my dorm,” you stood up from your place to leave.
“No, wait,” Draco scrambled to his feet, taking hold of your wrist, “Would you-would you like to spend the next Hogsmeade trip with me?”
You were physically taken aback by his question. Why would he want to spend it with you? “Me?”
“Yeah,” he gulped. You had never seen him get nervous.
“Like on a date?”
“If you don’t mind that is,”
“What about that person?”
“Which person?”
“The one you were talking about, you know the one you like,”
“Why, of course,” You said, chuckling, “But I am choosing the location,”
Draco looked at you shocked for a minute before bursting out laughing. He pulled you closer once his laughter started to subside, holding your face between his hands, “It is you,”
”Oh,” your eyes widened. Not allowing you to think or react he once again asked his question, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
“Nuh huh, already got the dream date set up in my mind,”
“That better not have anything to do with water,” you warned.
“We’ll see about it,” Draco said, chuckling as he pulled you closer by your waist.
“Draco!”
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saltwaterbells · 3 years
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crown the ravens who paint the sky - a wip introcuction
Excerpt:
When the trees bleed mist, and the jagged branches on the trees silhouette jagged shapes into the sky, I get on my knees and pray, in a church made of concrete and glass, the graveyard watching through the shattered window, the world stained blue and green.
On the wall, white hot iron digging into their hands and the back of their mouth and through the exposed bone of their shins, all their skin peeled off until they’re only a mass of flesh that had once pretended to be a human, is a young fae. They fill the air with the smell of flowers and burning flesh and mountain air, descendant of the goddess that so many search, caught, like a broken butterfly on a corkboard.
They gasp for breath that isn’t theirs, rasp out words that don’t belong to them but that they’ve stolen, no name of their own to claim so they take and take and take, the never ending desperation that comes from the hunger their magic induces.
“Welcome, fellow daughter of these woods,” they rasp. “What wisdom do you seek.”
Genre: Forestpunk, low industrial fantasy, litfic? (It used to be so much more fantasy-ish and now it’s very much a character study but it still has fantasy elements and stuff, so take it as you will)
pinterest - tag
Summary:
One hundred years ago, Sithau refused to be conquered. Now it pays the price. Factories grow from soiled ground, iron statuettes drill for oil, mines defile what used to be sacred mountains. One hundred years ago, whatever hides in the woods drained the life and sanity from whoever dared lay hands on Sithau’s treasures. Soldiers were found, hundreds of years old when they were merely men just the day before. Other found wild eyed and feral, clawing at whatever dared come near, muttering about faeries and a desperate craving to be human. One hundred years ago, something protected Sithau.
When the bodies of two students at the local military academy are found, rumours begin to flourish, claiming the deaths resembled those that occurred all those years ago. Whatever protected Sithau one hundred years ago could be back, which means for some people in Sithau, it’s time to kill a goddess.
Themes: violation, humans as religion, what makes a monster, coming of age, rebellion, generational trauma, nature vs. nurture, humanity, the quest for power, how far will anyone go to achieve their dreams, exploitation, humanity
Aesthetic: whispered prayers to forgotten gods, winding mountain roads shrouded in mist, branches carving a jagged silhouette in the sky, a white blouse coloured red with blood that isn’t yours, fog, abandoned warehouses reclaimed by feral woods, flashes of white in the foliage that could be bones, but you don’t want to look, wrought iron gates leading nowhere, ancient bitter things lurking behind the eyes of the youth, cigarette smoke trailing against a cloudy sky, books left behind by someone who loved them, words pencilled into trees so long ago they’re no longer legible, gods hiding round the bend, drunks warning you of the things hiding in the woods and between the intentions of the townsfolk, water-stained splashes of ink on crumpled  paper, dried flowers pressed between pages, the wind telling you secrets you’ll never hear, the birds going silent all at once, gaping mouths and rusted nails
Characters:
sofiya mikhailova hears the whispers of unholy gods and the power to craft reality to her will roils through her veins. flowers bloom under her feet and wither as soon as she steps away, the world is hers to command. left to die in the woods as an infant, the woods should have killed her, but whatever happened in those woods proves sofiya mikhailova isn’t human.
[eldest daughter complex - ripped apart with anger - exists in the limbo between past and present - tempest of emotion locked away - feels too much and has decided to thus feel nothing - hollow - painful - bitter - built from a wild sea and an even wilder sky]
ayse terzi is the only good thing that’s ever come out of sithau, her dresses coloured blue and red like the bruises she inflicts without meaning to, she doesn’t belong here, deserves some place better, but sithau is what she has and she’s good enough to want to influence her world: make sithau better, make sithau kinder, as if that’s something that can be achieved.
[convinced she’s always right and it destroys all the people she’s trying to protect - too young to be this old - so tired of being the mother but doesn’t know how to do anything else - less soft than she looks - less kind than she thinks she is - cares too much about your opinion - fabricated from silk and silver]
irene bishop was fire in human form. fury and gaunt eyes and bloody fists. she protected secrets she didn’t understand, wallowed in her need for revenge, and if she had her way, all those who ever dared think of harming anyone she loved would be dead. she smiled with broken teeth, hollow bones ready to take flight, autumn colours in a raging inferno.
[burn scars and hatred - blind devotion - petty squabbles - repression and refusal to be someone she’s not - could kill you but doesn’t - all sharp edges - dead inside and out - breaking apart - a walking catastrophe - six feet under - can’t be happy - wants to be happy - wants to make everyone happy]
halisi athiambo sees the world in a way she can show no other. machinery speaks to her in a way no human can, and in turn, she creates wonders, for the small price of a soul. colours bleed from her mind when she’s thinking, fireworks spark and ideas flow and what she wants to create now might just be what pushes her over the brink.
[inquisitive - yearning - mind soars through the air - nihilistic - warm and lovely and everything and nothing - bleeds machinery - sees terror and is not impressed - laughter and creation - has outgrown her own depression so she’s given it away - cobbled together from dreams and invention]
romeo beauregarde is bred from old money and older gods, the power behind his name the kind others can only dream of wielding. but he doesn’t know how to use it, coddled and loved to the point of incompetence, softened where everyone else has been hurt, but his heart is too warm and too big and too open and he’ll only hurt himself in the end.
[golden boy and golden heart - means well - should have grown up by now - passionate about what others love - formed by what others  want - never good enough - bedroom eyes and soft lips - they call him whore behind his back - warm hugs and ruffled hair - shouldn’t be a part of this - where are his scars - money dripping from his fingers and mouth, pooling at his feet]
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