#even if this story contains absolutely no trolls whatsoever

[longroadstonowhere]

this is it

the final chapter of wild child

six and a half years ago, i wrote a little story with an open ending, and i thought well, maybe i’ll come back to this, who knows - i was just starting to get back into writing again, after taking several years off because nothing really inspired me to write

and then there was homestuck, and there were friends to encourage my writing, and after a while i thought, well, why not try continuing that seed of a story

six years ago this saturday, i published the second of what i thought would be six or eight chapters at most - clearly that estimate was completely wrong, haha - but i’m glad i continued this, because i’m proud of what i’ve done here

to everyone who’s read any part of this story, thank you

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 ao3)

Paul collapsed on the couch. John had stormed off through the front door after Jade had made her escape, and he couldn't blame either of them.Probably one of my worst parenting moments to date, he berated himself. Honestly I can't imagine how much worse I could have done.

Roxy settled on the couch next to him and stroked his back. "Well, that was a little bit of a shitstorm."

"Doctor!" Paul raised his head and looked at the stairs. "Your daughter -"

"Left to go find the others. They'll be fine." She sat back, tapping her hands against her thighs. Suddenly, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to get myself something to drink. Would you like some?"

He frowned. Early in the day for that, isn't it? He didn't voice his thought, though, just a simple "No thank you." Rubbing at his temple, he continued, "Really feel like I need to smoke, though."

She hummed in acknowledgement as she clattered around the kitchen. He heard something being poured into a glass, a pause, and then liquid splashing down the drain. He turned his head and saw the doctor filling two glasses with water. Coming back around the couch, she handed him one glass and held the other out. "To curbing vices," she proposed, with a facetious twist to her mouth.

With a matching half-smile, he tapped her glass and took a long sip. Swirling the water a little, he said mournfully, "I don't think John's ever been this angry with me, and I can't blame him. Every choice I made in this matter was the absolute worst choice I could have made. I can't expect him or Jade to ever trust me again."

"Well..." Roxy said thoughtfully. "It might be true that you could've handled things differently and it might have turned out better, but that's impossible to know for sure. Unless you have secret time travel powers?" she teased. Paul snorted out a little laugh despite himself. "No? That's sad, I could've used a new project at work. As for their trust..." Here she sighed. "I'll be honest - I've done my best for Rose, but I've done plenty I'm not proud of, either. Somehow, in spite of all my fuck-ups, she still loves me. I don't know how much she trusts me, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "All children discover their parents are human eventually. We can only hope they still love us when they get through to the other side."

Paul considered that for a moment. "I suppose... I just hoped that day wouldn't come so soon."

Roxy patted his shoulder in consolation. "From what I've seen, you've done a good job with both of them. With a little time, they'll come around."

John stomped away from their house, no goal in sight except just getting away. Dad is such an asshole! he fumed. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us for so long! I was so excited to show Jade what high school is like, and she knows the librarians so well, and what does any of it fucking matter?!? His feet kept pushing along with no interference from his brain, until he found himself near a small ostentatious building near the edge of the clearing that had been made around Rose's house. He didn't really notice the building, though. He was still too focused on mentally ripping his dad a new one. Tired of wandering at random, though, he started going around and around the little structure in a neverending circle.

"John?" Rose's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She stood some distance away, her arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. "Are you attempting to create a moat of some sort with your feet alone? I'd admire your perseverance and admittedly misguided ambition if that were the case - but I must inform you we don't often find ourselves under siege, and if we were this building would not be worth any particular attention."

"Oh, uh..." John shuffled his feet, a little embarrassed and still kinda angry at his dad. He didn't really want to unload any of that on Rose, though. "What is this thing, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a building with pillars outside of like, City Hall."

"Well," Rose stepped forward, her hands moving to clasp behind her back, "this edifice began its life as a mausoleum for my former pet Jaspers. When he passed, my mother had this building constructed to give his mortal flesh a worthy final resting place." She smiled a little. "Then, after some self-reflection and a strongly worded letter from one of my teachers, she decided that was a little fucked up and decided to give Jaspers a more traditional burial for a simple pet - a shoebox buried beneath the flowers. Now we use this thing as a gardening shed."

"Huh. That's... really weird actually."

"That is but the tip of the weirdness manifesting itself as my mother," Rose said. "However, while I could continue to overshare emotionally scarring anecdotes from my past, I think I would serve better as an open ear than an open mouth. So," she carefully settled herself on the grass near the bizarre mausoleum-shed, "have a seat and let's, as the youths say, rap about your feelings."

John snorted without really meaning to. "You sound like a forty six year old woman trapped in a teenager's body saying that."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean by that, young man," Rose stated primly. She patted the grass beside her. "I must insist on the sitting, though. I'll strain my neck if you continue to stand while we talk, and it is simply impossible to find a good masseuse in this neck of the woods."

"Well, I wouldn't want to do something ungentlemanly like cause you grievous bodily harm," John joked as he sprawled next to Rose, his legs stretched in front of him. Once he was sitting, though, he had no idea what to say next. Rose had helped bleed some of his anger away by distracting him, but he could still feel it boiling away in his heart. "I dunno if there's much for me to say. My dad's a jerk and Jade's gonna have to leave, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Rose tilted her head slightly, like she was accepting what John said without agreeing with it. "I'm not so sure that last statement is true, but we can circle back to that. Let's talk to your father first. Does he often spring news on you like this?"

"... No. He usually tells me stuff way before it matters. He always says he wants to give me space to get used to something new, but this is like one of the hugest things that could ever happen and he just drops it all at once?" John exhaled in disgust and fell backwards, his arms stretched out above his head. "I'm already fucked up about high school and growing up, why does this have to change too?"

Rose sighed. "Change can truly be a brutal taskmaster, one with no mercy or compassion for those swept along in its wake. But, well..." Rose paused for a long time, long enough that John wondered if she was done talking entirely. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence for once, though - it felt weirdly okay to just let time pass. He watched a few wisps of cloud slowly drift across the sky. Finally Rose started to speak again. "Honestly, I generally find change to be a shitty joke played on the unprepared fools we all are, but sometimes it can be an unexpected boon. For example," she turned and gave John a surprisingly genuine smile, "though I've only known you a short time, I find both you and Jade to be quite pleasurable additions to my life, an outcome I'd certainly never have predicted in advance. So, even if all the events leading up to our meeting have been exceedingly shitty, I would deem the end result quite satisfactory."

John took a few seconds to process all those words before snorting in laughter. "Wow, that's one of the dorkiest ways I've ever heard someone say 'Let's be friends!', ahahahahaha!" He curled in on his stomach, unable to stop laughing.

Rose sniffed in disapproval. "Such boorish antics... truly it is a mystery how you have ever befriended anyone. 'Tis a riddle I should have to devote my life to unraveling, if I were so inclined to such an activity." Her words sounded kinda mean, but she didn't make any moves like she was going to walk off and just leave him there. And she'd come out to find him after he'd stormed off, which said a lot more than her words did.

Well, maybe not a lot more... John thought, considering how many words Rose generally said. But it does mean a lot, at least. John sat back up and smiled at Rose. "Thanks. I guess I kinda needed that."

She nodded graciously. "My pleasure. I've found something of a fascination for delving into the psychological depths of those around me, so it is gratifying to find a material beneficial output for my knowledge."

"Uh, sure, okay." That sounded kind of like 'you're welcome', if he didn't think about it too hard. John stood and dusted bits of grass off his shorts. Looking at the house, though, he wasn't ready to see his dad again yet. Besides, he had something very important to do. "So, where do you think the tallest tree is around here?"

Jade swung her feet in the air, her eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar horizon. Off the island for months and I still run for a tree when something's wrong, she berated herself. Growing up, climbing trees had been both fun and beneficial, since it gave her the best view of her surroundings, letting her scope out unplundered plants or useful scrap that drifted onto the beach.

Trees had also helped her escape from the beasts that had grown bold after her grandpa's death, animals that Bec could take on one at a time but could easily overwhelm him with numbers. Most of the ones who were chasing her for food couldn't climb, though, so the higher she went, the safer she was.

There weren't any beasts like that here, though - nothing that would kill her, tear her to shreds for a decent meal. She was safe here, probably the safest she'd been in her entire life.

And yet she still ran.

I'm better than this, she thought angrily. I've been around people all the time, and I didn't hurt Rob at all when he tried to fight me, and... Ugh!She fell backwards, hanging off the branch upside down. I can't believe how dumb I'm being about all this!

She sat like that for a while, letting the blood rush to her head until it started to hurt. She let it pound away, the pulsing in her head matching her anger at herself. It got so loud that she almost missed Bec's quiet warning bark - no danger but he saw something that needed her attention.

Straining, she looked down at the ground upside down and could see John at the bottom of the tree approaching Bec carefully. He stopped a few feet short and held his hand out to the dog, who padded forward and let John scratch between his ears. His light laughter drifted up the tree towards her. He gave Bec one last big scritch and looked up the tree at Jade. "Hi Jade! Cold you come down a couple branches? I wanna talk but I don't really want to shout, and these trees are harder to climb than the ones back home."

Home. That word hurt more than she thought it would. She'd gotten over the idea of having a home to belong to years ago, right? Home was about people, after all - that's what her stories had said, and all she had was Bec.

John stood quietly at the bottom of the tree, but he was shifting his weight back and forth, like he was trying to decide if he should leave or not. Finally he tightened his fists and nodded to himself before approaching the tree. He jumped and just barely caught one of the lowest branches, pulling himself up until he could straddle it. Balancing against the tree trunk, he slowly stood up on the branch and looked for the next one. He eyed one just out of reach, but before he could make a jump for that one, Jade called down, "If you're gonna be stubborn, fine, I'll climb down a little." He was super bad at climbing, after all, and dealing with a broken leg or something would just make everything even worse.

Jade casually dropped down the tree until she was a few branches above John. She settled into the nexus of several branches and waited for him to say something. He was the one who wanted to talk after all.

"So..." John said as he sat on his branch again, his legs dangling in the air. "That's some shitty news, huh? Kinda wish Dad had told us earlier, but I guess there's no good time for that kind of news. It's weird to think he could mess up like that, though. Adults aren't supposed to fuck things up."

Jade pressed her back into the tree, trying not to think about what parents should or shouldn't be like. Imagining how things could go wouldn't change what was happening.

John sighed loudly. "Wow, I suck at cheering people up. Rose is way better than me at this." He shook his head vigorously and slapped his hands to his cheeks. "Okay! Here's what I really need to say!" He looked straight at Jade, locking eyes with her. "I want you to come home with me and Dad, and I don't care what anyone says about it. You're my sister, and you belong with us, and anybody who thinks differently is gonna regret it, even if they are some hotshot lawyer with... a briefcase and... and a carphone!" He scowled at the ground, one hand on his forehead. "Wow, that last part sounded stupid, just ignore that bit. The important thing is you're my family, no matter what anyone says."

Jade froze, not sure what she should do. No one had ever made her feel important like that, not since Grandpa... No, she admitted, not even Grandpa. Before she realized it, she was dropping down towards John, grabbing him in a strong embrace when she reached his level. "Whoa - !" John flailed and nearly fell off, but Jade made sure they stayed. Once they were stabilized, John hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time.

Bec's soft whine, followed by some scratching noises, finally convinced Jade to pull back. She looked down through surprisingly watery eyes to see Bec pawing at the trunk of the tree. "I'm fine," she told him, a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. And she was, for once. She actually was.

Beside her, John wiped a few tears out of his eyes. "Wow... now I know how Cameron Poe must have felt when he finally gave Casey that bunny," he laughed.

Jade laughed too, and shoved at him a little. "No more lame movie references, we are having a serious moment!" John was too distracted trying to stay seated on the branch to argue. Jade let the smile drop from her mouth as she gathered her thoughts. "... Do you really think they'll make me leave you guys?"

John furrowed his brow in deep thought. "Custody can be really weird sometimes. But, you know..." John trailed off, looking around at their surroundings. "If you did have to live somewhere else, this wouldn't be the worst place probably. Rose is pretty cool, in a super nerdy way, and it does look pretty."

"I guess... but... " Jade gathered her courage. "I don't want to. I want to go... home."

John wrapped one arm around her. "Okay. That's what we'll do."

John sat on the couch, doing his best not to fidget nervously and absolutely failing on all fronts. Jade lay on the floor in front of him with Bec, the pair tussling half-heartedly over one of Bec's toys that they'd brought along. Rose sat on one of the other couches, knitting a scarf or something and looking for all the world like she didn't care about anything else besides her project.

The day before, they'd all had a real long talk about strategies and feelings and everything in between. There had been more than a few manly tears shed, as well as some hugs so tight they squeezed the air out of everyone's lungs,, but at some point all they could do was wait for the lawyer to come and discuss everything with them.

The adults were with the lawyer now in Dr. Lalonde's study, discussing the dry details of Uncle Harley's will. Rose had tried to argue that all of them should be present, but Dad thought they would run out of steam if they had to listen to the minutiae, so he'd suggested the kids come in once all the boring stuff was over. On the one hand, John couldn't really blame his dad - he could barely pay attention to his teacher's lectures, and he could understand what they were talking about for the most part.

On the other hand, that left the three of them out here with nothing to do but obsess over whatever was happening in that room.

Unable to keep still any longer, John leaped to his feet and started pacing between the couches and the stairs, carefully stepping over Jade and Bec on his way. Neither girl seemed to pay him any mind, but he knew Jade at least was probably keeping an eye on him. Probably Rose too, really. They were both scarily observant of where people were at all times. They'd probably get even scarier about it if they ended up living together.

Nope nope nope! John shook his head sharply. Jade's gonna come home where she belongs, and that's that, even if I have to kidnap her. He stopped pacing, one hand coming up to cup his chin. I'd have to drive, since I don't think we could get on an airplane without some kind of adult, and also tickets would be super expensive. Driving can't be that hard, right? I should be tall enough to reach the pedals on Dad's car, and I know where he keeps his keys. Food, though...

"Um, John?" Jade's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see her kneeling on the couch, looking at him in concern. "What... are you doing?"

John laughed nervously. "Oh, I was.... planning how to kidnap you?"

Behind Jade, he could see Rose shaking with suppressed laughter. Jade half-smiled, but her heart definitely wasn't in it. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head - she was just as nervous as he was, if not more, and he had no idea how to fix that.

Jade looked down the hallway towards the study. "How much longer do you think they're gonna talk?"

John shrugged helplessly. "I guess Uncle Harley had a lot of complicated stuff in his will? He was technically like a billionaire or something, since the Betty Crocker company belonged to him." He looked down the hall as well. "They could be in there for a really long time probably."

Rose set her knitting aside and confidently stood up. "Well then, I suggest we go see how they're getting on for ourselves." She came around the couches and strode past John towards the hallway. He gave Jade a quick look before following Rose, and he could hear Jade scrambling over the couch to join them.

Outside the study, Rose kneeled in front of the door, one ear pressed close. She motioned for John to be quiet as he approached. He frowned - he wasn't stomping around like an elephant or anything, and he knew better than to give away that they were eavesdropping! As proof of such intelligence, he didn't give Rose a piece of his mind then and there. Instead, he knelt next to her, pressing his own ear against the door to try and hear what was going on. Jade stayed standing and leaned over the both of them, one hand on John's shoulder to keep her balance.

The adults were talking quietly, making it difficult to hear them through the door. Okay, so maybe Rose had a good point about being silent, he thought ruefully. He had to breathe really slowly through his mouth to be quiet enough to have any chance of understanding what they were saying.

"As you can see, Mr. Harley was quite thorough in protecting the trust for Jade." That was the lawyer's voice - they'd introduced themselves to everyone before disappearing into the study with Dad and Doctor Lalonde. "And since he tied everything about access to the trust with whoever has Jade's custody..."

There was a barely audible sigh, which John recognized as coming from his dad. "Yes, I can see why you said you needed to speak with me in person. This is far more complex than I'd even imagined." A pause, with some furniture creaking that suggested his dad was moving around in some way - leaning forward maybe? "Why was he so particular about this? He must have trusted his business partners well enough, since he left them in complete control of the company while he was... gallivanting around the world."

More furniture creaks, and Dr. Lalonde said, "Jake was never very good with people - that's why he liked exploring so much, it meant he could just leave whenever he started worrying about whether he was offending someone or what have you." She laughed a little. "I think he might've left Jade to me just because he could stand being around me for at least a week at a time."

"I'd also like to note," the lawyer said, "he didn't leave his partners completely alone while he traveled. He had access to some extraordinary technology across the years - we take cell phones and their communication abilities for granted now, but fifteen or twenty years ago that instantaneous correspondence was just barely beginning to enter the public eye. Mr. Harley's island was kitted out with a whole host of machines that allowed him to check on his company far more often than one would have expected, and he could give them instructions as well. He was more hands-on than the company would lead you to believe."

The furniture creaked again, and John's dad said, "So he was still running the company from all the way out there?" His voice was getting louder and softer - it sounded like he was pacing back and forth. "He went to all those lengths, just to avoid his business colleagues while still keeping control of his company?"

"That's Jake in a nutshell, really. He had a great deal of pride in his family's company, so he couldn't let it pass from his hands while he was alive, but he couldn't stand living in the same 'humdrum reality' as the rest of us." The doctor's voice changed a little as she said those words, and Jade gripped John's shoulder a little tighter. Guess that's her Uncle Harley impression. It must be pretty good for Jade to react like that, John thought.

"Okay..." Dad still seemed to be pacing back and forth. "So he accepted his business had to pass into other hands on his death, but he wanted to provide a good future for Jade, and so he put all his wealth into this trust fund for her. Would his business partners really try to get at his wealth through Jade? I know it's quite a bit of money but -"

The lawyer interrupted. "They already have tried, and not just his business partners. Several parties have come forward inquiring about Jade's custody since they learned of her current situation. Somehow word's gotten around that Mr. Harley's fortune will not be funneled back into the company, as so many presumed it would, and regrettably some of those who made such presumptions are much less scrupulous than one would hope."

"Yeah, Jake had good reason to make his will so strong, unfortunately," the doctor said. "With what he knew, he made the best choices possible. I just wish he'd known a little more."

"It's unfortunate that he and Mother fell out of contact," John's dad sighed. "This all could have been avoided. And you're certain there's no way to accept custody of Jade without also gaining access to this trust fund?"

"No, that was one thing Mr. Harley didn't think of," the lawyer replied. "Of course, he assumed with everything else in place that Jade would go to Doctor Lalonde here, and he knew her to be in an extremely secure financial situation. As such, and because he personally knew her, Mr. Harley was certain that Jade's money would be safe in the doctor's hands."

"Yes, I wouldn't dream of touching her money myself, outside of providing for whatever lessons she desires in the future," Dad said. "But... if I try to take full custody of Jade, those vultures circling around Uncle Harley's will would try to argue that my motivation is purely financial, won't they?"

The lawyer responded, "Yes, I think it's safe to say they would certainly challenge your claim on those grounds, considering your own situation. After all, you've been holding up admirably, but even with just the quick glance you graciously allowed me, I can see that you've been struggling on that front for some time."

"What?" John said, unable to help himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth as Rose turned to glare at him. Oops.

The conversation in the study paused, and then footsteps came towards them. John and the others stepped away from the door, just in time to avoid stumbling through as John's dad opened it. He looked down at the three of them, smiling a little and shaking his head. "I suppose we should have expected you to tire of waiting for us to finish," he said. "Well, if you're going to listen, you should join us so you can speak as well." He turned back into the room and returned to the table they were all sitting around.

Rose wasted no time entering the room and claiming a chair for herself. John entered a little more cautiously, making sure Jade was right behind him. He felt sort of timid, which was a really weird feeling for him - most of the time, he jumped into a new situation too fast to feel anything more than excitement or anger or whatever. After that first rush, he usually just felt dumb about jumping in, but not timid. That was an alien thing.

He swallowed, trying to gulp down this weird feeling at the same time. "So... is that why we've been eating spaghetti all the time? Because we're poor now?"

"Oh John," his dad sighed. "We're not... yes, having another person in the house has strained our financial situation somewhat, but we're doing fine. Besides, I'll take any hardship to give you the life you deserve." He looked at Jade. "Both of you."

John glanced down at his hands, pride in his dad overwhelming his ability to say anything else. The lawyer politely cleared their throat. "That is extremely admirable, Mr. Egbert. I could only wish all parents were as devoted as you."

Dad blushed a little. "Well, it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he muttered.

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "You know, you almost sound like Jake when you say that." She sobered quickly, turning back to the lawyer. "So, as much as I hate to be all serious, did Jake leave any provisions for what would happen to Jade if I were..." Her eyes flickered to where Rose was sitting. "Let's say incapacitated?"

"You can say 'if you were dead', Mom," Rose stated, deadpan. "I'm well aware of how mortal our flesh is."

The doctor chewed her lip. "That's not the only thing I meant, Rose." Mother and daughter looked at each other, communicating something John couldn't even try to understand. Rose nodded, just a little, and seemed to relax slightly.

"In the event that you were incapable of serving as Jade's guardian," the lawyer diplomatically continued the conversation, "Mr. Harley specified that, to put it in simple terms, Jade was to be provided for in an identical way to your own daughter if at all possible. Any other contingencies specifically require your incapacitation."

"Ah, no luck there, then," she said lightly. "It was a long shot, anyway."

"Um..." Jade raised her hand a little. Where'd she pick that up from? John wondered - she obviously hadn't attended any real classes yet, but maybe she'd marathoned some school show and hadn't told them about it. "Can I say something?"

"Of course! This is your future, after all," the lawyer stated.

"Right, okay." Jade took a deep breath, in and out. "So, Grandpa wanted Doctor Lalonde to be my guardian, and made it really really complicated for anyone else to get the job because of this money he set aside for me, right?"

John's dad nodded. "That is a good summary of the situation, yes."

"So, um... is it possible for both you and the doctor to be my guardians?" Jade asked, looking at each of the adults.

The lawyer leaned back, stroking their chin. "Partial custody.... you know, I think that could actually work. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues who are more versed in these things, but that should satisfy Mr. Harley's conditions regarding Doctor Lalonde as Jade's guardian, as well as allow her to spend most of her time living with the Egberts." They looked at the doctor. "I'm fairly certain you would have to host Jade for some significant period of time, though, or else you could be challenged on whether you were acting in good faith as her guardian."

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "How about... oh, say, six weeks every summer?" She turned to John and his dad. "I'd be more than happy to house the two of you, as well. It wouldn't be the same without everyone here."

Dad smiled wide, exuberant joy pouring out from his face. "That sounds absolutely perfect, Roxy. I would be more than happy to accept those terms."

"So... that works? I get to stay with John and Mr. Egbert?" Jade asked, like she had to hear someone say it straight out before she could believe it. Honestly, John couldn't blame her - he felt the same way.

The lawyer smiled. "As I see it, you get to stay with your family."

John whooped in joy and tackled Jade to the ground. "You get to stay!" he shouted - he was so happy, he wanted the whole world to know why.

Jade laughed and hugged him back. No matter what came next, John would remember this as one of the best moments in his entire life.

[dramionediscussion]

I have a concern about Dramione fandom, which has been slightly troubling me lately. I am not saying that this is something that is going to happen, or is happening already. Naturally, I don’t think this is entirely unfounded either (hence why I am writing this), but I am just one Dramione shipper. If this doesn’t resonate at all, that’s totally fine! We are all aware of extremely boorish and fatuous anti-Dramione people, who troll, defame and accuse Dramione of being all sort of things. We are also probably all quite familiar with their claims about the ship and its shippers. You know, Dramione promotes racism, sexism, classism, unhealthy and abusive relationships, it’s all about bashing Ron, it’s just cuz actors are hot, we should all pay homage and tribute to canon relationships (and their shippers naturally), and offer respect and fawn over everything “canonical” for gracing us with all this HP bounty, and so on. This time I am not going to try to offer rebuttals, or deconstruct their arguments, or even psychoanalyze them more than absolutely necessarily. I am not even particularly upset about them (anymore). They are categorically wrong, their arguments are never insightful or thoughtful. Most importantly, they are disingenuous in their argumentation and especially about their own motives. I believe, the best course is ignore them totally. What I am afraid, that these endless arguments, relentless belittling, and even harassment of which they never seem to grow tired off actually might change Dramione shippers and community as well. Not in a conscious way, but constantly being on a defense can make people internalize some of these arguments. Or rather their premises and assumptions on which they are based upon. I don’t mean it, that Dramione shippers will suddenly wake up, and shout out that Dramione was actually all about abusing women all along, or anything like that. What I mean is, that people rather internalize certain assumptions, framing and logic chains, which are build into those arguments. In a defense, they start define what Dramione really means, what is ideal Dramione, what is acceptable or desirable in Dramione fics, in accordance of these attacks, by unconsciously defending their ship from slander. As an example, Romione people constantly accuse that Dramione is either all about mindless “Ron bashing”, and Dramione shippers rightly say that it’s not what Dramione is about at all. What I am afraid, that people might internalize the point, that “Ronbashing” is something truly heinous, and what should be avoided at all cost. And as a corollary to that, ideal Dramione fics are those in which there’s no conflicts between Ron, Draco and Hermione. Or the very least they are resolved in a conciliatory and harmonious manner. Or it is lazy Dramione writing, when Ron is “villainized”. Or another thing they say is, that Dramione just about glorifying and eroticizing abusive relationships. This might lead that some of us accept the framing, that describing or narrating something is totally same as promoting and celebrating it. If they accept it, then it’s quite easy to logically infer, that if Dramione is not defined by Draco abusing Hermione (it’s not), then it must be defined negatively as its opposite. Meaning that something cannot be genuine or accepted Dramione, if it contains an abusive Draco. Or as an induction from that, if a fic has an abusive Draco, it also must contain a redemption arc, and Draco has to change and make amends, and redeem himself as a person. That we start to define Dramione being really about redemption or redeeming, forgiveness, changing oneself for the better, etc (as contrary to their claim that its about abuse). Don’t get me wrong, I’d say the majority of Dramione fics contain a redemption story arc, and Draco either has changed or actively changes his views and behavior. It’s a common and wonderful theme, and almost all my favorite Dramione fics have those, and I like just for its own skae. Yet it’s not something what either makes or unmakes Dramione. There’s a minority of fics, in which Draco is never truly redeemed (usually a lust-filled obsession, with many many cognitive dissonances, which he never solves), and they are as Dramione as anything else, and some people enjoy writing them and some people reading them (or at least some of them). Also, a lot of gray areas, which can be quite delightful, thought inspiring and invigorating (and hot!).  Speaking for myself, I’d say maybe 1/20 of my favorite fics have this dynamic or something close to it. Maybe 33% are more in that gray area. It doesn’t do any harm, there’s nothing ethnically wrong about it, I never idolize that behavior. If Romione stans have problem with that, they can go away, cry and tell that Rupert Grint body pillow all their troubles, because I don’t give a damn. People don’t emulate or model their behavior or preferences from YA fanfics or smut in that sense in any significant numbers. If someone does, I am sorry to say, but you probably weren’t going to make it anyway. It’s the irl version of getting a comedy death in a video game, like if a smarter-than-average mushroom hypnotizes you and makes you walk into a bottomless pit, or something like that. Your problems are deep seated and numerous, which unless dealt with, will be triggered by just about anything. Its pure happenstance whether it will be Harlequin novels, Dramione fanfiction, urban legend your cousin told you, or whatever. This could go on, but seriously, Dramione shippers have nothing to prove or even argue with those antis. It’s just bottomless pit of resentment, what they twist into moral arguments, which they think will signify us as the worst kind of people, and they themselves as the most virtuous. Their antipathies are petty and personal concerns, in which they feel like the universe and the abominable cabal of Dramione shippers have cheated them out of all that attention, writers, fans, fics, and deference they feel entitled to. It’s natural for humans to cloak often even most pettiest and nonsensical slights and resentments into whatever moral or ethical language and arguments the society they live holds sacred. If we would be living in the 1600s, they’d be scouring the Bible for anti-Dramione arguments, and denouncing Dramione as unchristian and sinful. By their stated “moral standards”, there are a lot more “vile” and “harmful” ships out there, but they aren’t functionally bothered by them at all. So, unless really prompted, they don’t even bother to denounce them, little alone wage this never-ending crusade against them. That’s because they aren’t popular enough to trigger that envy and resentment (Hermione with basically any of the worst Death Eaters). Or they feel that they don’t compete in the same niche as their ship does (Drarry as an example). I wouldn’t be writing this, if this discourse with Antis hadn’t affected me as well. There was a time, I wanted to understand what they were about, and I read a lot of their grievances and internal discussions. While reading I couldn’t help but to be on a defense all the time. Sort of refuting and counter-arguing against their points in my mind, while reading their diatribes (I tried to start a dialog couple of times, but I was always totally ignored, which I am thankful for them in retrospect). Conditioning myself with that for long enough, I did notice that I started to feel a bit hesitant about certain tropes and Dramione fics I hadn’t before. I was thinking about Dramione like a defense attorney, excepting to be attacked from all directions. It actually took me quite long to figure this out, and how the bile of HP fandom had in subtle ways affected my sense and tastes without my really noticing.

Anonymous submitted: P.S. I wrote that previous submission, and I have to add, that I am not trying to say this is happening or pointing any fingers at anybody. There’s perfectly good reasons to not like any Dramione fic, as a Dramione shipper, in which Draco is irredeemable or evil. There’s perfectly legitimate reasons to prefer fics, which Ron is portrayed as a positive influence for Dramione. People can arrive to same conclusions or tastes from countless different routes and reasons. The negativity that the HP fandom and Romione shippers especially grace us just got to me in a way, that I wasn’t even cognizant about. It might be the case for others as well, if their own self-reflection so deems (or not).

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

I agree with every point you’ve made. While it’s obviously okay to discuss why you like Dramione (or any other pairing), people also need to remember that they don’t have to justify why they ship Draco and Hermione together or prove (especially to haters as they’re not worth anyone’s time) that their OTP makes sense because even if it makes no sense whatsoever, it’s still fine to ship it as long as you can differentiate between fantasy and reality. I don’t know about you, but when I started shipping Dramione, it was like love at first sight. I didn’t think if they made sense, didn’t spend hours trying to make a list of arguments for Dramione, I just suddenly loved the idea of them together, believed they belonged together, and that was and still is enough. I don’t need to justify why I ship them, and neither does anyone.

It’s true that in most Dramione fics, Draco gets redeemed. It’s also true that most shippers prefer fics in which Draco gets a redemption arc, but we have to remember that there’s nothing wrong with enjoying fics in which Draco’s irredeemable or his relationship with Hermione is toxic. I myself read such stories from time to time. I like a good Ron bashing fic every now and then as well, and there’s nothing wrong with that either because it’s all fantasy, it’s all fiction, which, I believe, most Dramione shippers are aware of and accept. Hopefully, it won’t change, and no one will ever try to tell others what should and shouldn’t be written or what is and what’s not allowed in a Dramione fic.

- AgnMag

[fromthadiningtable]

The Boy with the Leather Jacket

Warnings: cursing

(The credit for this entire little mini series goes to @edwardtriggerhandzz MY WIFE, for her idea!!!!)

The world famous Whiskey-A-Go-Go or as you knew it, the place that consistently kept your bills paid. At first, it was a place where you would go see bands and grab a drink with friends and then it turned into your place of employment. You had been going so much that all of the staff began to recognize you and soon knew you by name. You would come in and complain about your job as a nanny, downing shots of tequila and vodka sodas to keep you sane. The complaining seemed to work in your favor, the bartender would pour you heavier drinks and he ended up offering you a job. You were slightly surprised when he offered since you had made it clear that you had no bartending experience whatsoever but he seemed to think that your people skills would suffice. Once the job as a nanny became too much to handle, you finally quit and ended up at the Whiskey one night sulking into a watered down vodka soda. The bartender brought up the offer once more and in your desperation, you agreed to take the job. You were incredibly nervous and anxious about starting a new venture with a totally different skill set than what you were used to but you needed the money it could provide. Your first night was an absolute shit show, you could barely remember what drinks people had yelled at you and where the house vodka was located and then what drinks got which garnish. You were almost in tears by the end of the busy night but when you were handed the cash you had made, the tears were merely an inconvenience at the time. And so, the Whiskey became your home over the next few months as you learned the ropes. You became used to using your memory to take orders and you learned the bar setup fairly quickly. You also enjoyed music, it was a huge passion, so getting to see bands for free was a huge plus as well.

You walked in for your shift tonight and it felt like any other night might feel. The stage was being set up as you walked into the large room and saw roadies setting up amps and various wires around the stage. Your coworkers were bringing in large kegs and cases of beer, as well as several liquor bottles to stock up the bar for the night. One was cutting fruit and glanced up to see you, greeting you like she always did. Everyone was exchanging pleasantries while beginning to prepare for what could be a very busy night at work.

“Hey! Who’s on tonight?” You called out to your boss, who was giving a walk through of the place to what seemed like a manager or agent for someone. He had on a suit and expensive sunglasses, even was sporting a gold chain under the lapel of his shirt.

“London,” He replied, picking up a small piece of trash on the floor leftover from last night. You gave an apologetic look as he tossed it into a trash can behind the bar. You must have missed it while sweeping last night.

“They any good?” You asked once more, hoping it was a band that someone had heard of and not one of those bands that had a great deal of ambition and heart but none of the talent required to keep an audience engaged. Your boss shrugged and continued doing his walk through, he’d always been a man of few words as long as you’d known him.

The night started out slow, the few opening bands didn’t have much of a reputation so the crowd of people that were typically there by this time, were nowhere to be found. You looked up the ceiling and hoped for a moment that a deluge of people would come pouring in through the doors to give you all of the tips you needed. When it seemed like your request was denied, you let your coworkers know you were stepping outside for your break. You really just wanted some fresh air and a few moments to collect your thoughts just in case it did become busy later on in the night. The night air felt cool and there was a slight breeze that made the tiny baby hairs on your head blow over your face. You found a small place against a wall outside to lean against and you closed your eyes for a second, allowing yourself to have some peace.The sounds of the busy L.A. strip filled your ears. There were people talking and even yelling at each other drunkenly, a bottle was smashed, some cars seemed to be racing from the roar of the engines, and then you overheard someone being scolded not far off. You looked from the side of the building to the front where the noise seemed to be coming from. 

A lanky and tall boy with long brown shaggy hair was arguing with one of your favorite bouncers. This happened often and it was typically due to the customer being underage. The Whiskey wasn’t too fond of kids hanging around with only a small number of exceptions, so the bouncers were super strict when checking IDs. You couldn’t really make out what they were saying but could only see the boys eyes getting wide and he was gesturing with his hands. The bouncer seemed to be allowing him to let all of his angry energy out and just sat there with his muscular arms crossed. Getting curious, you began to walk over toward the two of them and possibly amend the situation or at least diffuse it. 

“Dude, I bought these tickets weeks ago, just fucking let me in.” He groaned and shifted his weight around on his feet quickly like he couldn’t sit still. 

“I’m well aware, you’ve told me twenty times.” The bouncer, Greg, still had his arms in place and was guarding the door like some sort of ancient troll at a bridge. You knew he wouldn’t budge, especially for an underage kid who no one recognized. 

“What’s going on?” You looked at Greg to hear his side of the story. 

“This kid bought tickets to see...London? Yeah, London, tonight but little buddy’s underage.” Greg rolled his eyes, already checked out of the entire situation. 

“I love London and I bought these weeks ago, it didn’t say shit about an age limit. People my age are the backbone of these audiences and if you don’t let them get into show then how do you -” He trailed off with his sentence when Greg simply got up out of his chair and took two steps closer to him. They were similar in height but the gangly boy had nothing on Greg who mostly muscle mass. You swore for a second he must have gulped when Greg got even closer and just stared at him. 

“Hey! You know what,” You interrupted the beef with a cheerful tone, “I’m on break so Greg, I’ll kindly escort this gentleman out.” You grabbed his skinny arm that was clad with a leather jacket and immediately got him out of there. Something told you this boy would not be able to hold his own and that he didn’t need to go home with cuts and bruises for pissing Greg off. 

“Are you dumb?” You let go of his arm and glanced back to see if Greg had cooled down at all. Greg was a great bouncer, but he could get rough if someone challenged him enough. 

“Nope, just dedicated.” The two of you turned a corner and were now behind the building, out of sight.

“You must really like this band.” You chuckled a little bit at the grin on this boy’s face. He had to have been fresh out of high school, he seemed so naive and child like in his actions.

He nodded and took a cigarette out of his jacket on the inside. “Yeah, I really do.” He said and raised his eyebrows slightly, taking the cigarette between his teeth and lighting it. He gestured the cigarette toward you and you shook your head, looking down and tucking some hair behind your ear. He continued to puff and look around at the backside of the buildings next to you. You were in a small space behind the stage door, where everyone usually came to smoke. It was vacant now and you assumed it must be getting busier in there now. You had an idea come to mind when you rescued the boy from Greg and you planned to carry this out.

“I’ve got to get back inside but...” you shuffled around and hesitated slightly before saying, “I can get you in. Just stay away from the door until Greg gets off in an hour.”

“Are you serious?” He was looking at you now, eyeing you up and down it seemed like. You nodded and gave him a small smile, letting him know it was okay.

“You are seriously the best!” He came over to you and hugged you, but he caught you off guard. You leaned awkwardly into him, your arms still at your sides as he tried to bear hug you. He felt your stiffened body and quickly pulled away. “Shit, sorry,” he rubbed the back of his head and grimaced slightly. You laughed a little, telling him it was fine and you just weren’t prepared.

“I’ve been told I’m a little much sometimes,” he said, still trying to contain his excitement.

“Is that so?” You laughed again and shuffled towards the door to signal to him you had to get going soon. You walked up to the stage door after he noticed you inch closer to the door. With a burst of confidence, you flung open the back stage door and gestured for him to walk inside. The music was making the walls shake and a smoky haze drifted outside.

“Thank you so much again,” He stopped at the entrance and put his hand on your shoulder. You nodded and said no problem, following after him into the club. You hoped he would stay out of trouble since you were practically risking your job for him, if Greg so much as saw the back of his shaggy head he would be done for.

//

The night carried on a little further and business seemed to be picking up. More people were crowding at the bar, a lot of them coming to your section and sitting for awhile or just grabbing a quick drink and heading back to the floor in front of the stage. You didn’t know how many beers you must’ve used out of the cooler or how many empty tequila bottles you had tossed, but you knew by the volume of people coming in and out that it must have been a lot. London was about to come on stage and everyone seemed to gather more and seem larger in number when they were announced. They must have been a pretty popular band around if they had attracted as many people that were in the Whiskey right now. Your hands became busier and your thoughts wandered as you slung drinks like crazy. You had hoped that boy was enjoying the show and that your risk had paid off. You also were thinking about how great a hot bath was going to be after this.

Two more guys appeared in front of you at the bar, one was very handsome and striking while the other was turned around and you couldn’t get a good look at his face. The handsome one winked at you and yelled across the bar top, “Two Budweiser’s please and your phone number.” You smiled back to be polite but you would rather give your number out to people you had had a conversation with or had gotten to know for a little bit.

You reached into the cooler and grabbed two beers, popping the top off with your bottle opener. You set them in front of the two gentlemen, the other had turned around and you saw he was quite good looking as well.

“And the phone number?” The man interrupted your thought process.

“Oh I’m sorry, I don’t uh...I don’t,” You stammered, not sure how to get out of this one.

“Surely you have one,” he leaned in closer and his brow was furrowed, seemingly frustrated.

“No I uh...I...” you couldn’t seem to shake the all of a sudden stutter that was hindering your response. His fist clenched and you began to grow a little anxious at his reaction.

“Is this guy bothering you?” A familiar, but also different voice entered the conversation. You looked over and it was the shaggy haired boy again, staring the guy down at the bar. He glanced over to you and you tried to give him a pleading look to make the guy go away, just get his drink and leave.

“Well, um,” You said, looking back and forth between the two of them for a second.

“I think you should just leave, dude.” The boy with shaggy hair defended you finally. You pretended to be cleaning something on one of the coolers below you, avoiding eye contact with everyone now.

“I just asked for her number, calm down,” the handsome man rolled his eyes as he said this. The boy in the leather jacket was growing even more irritated with him at this point. He stepped closer to the handsome men at the bar and kept intense eye contact the whole time. Not only was it a relief he was saving you, but he looked pretty good while doing it.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna give it to you, so fuck off.” He said, and finally slid his jacket off. He set it on the bar in front of you and stayed there standing his ground

“Are we going to have a problem?” The handsome man asked, and now people were starting to take notice and look at the situation happening. You could cut the tension between the two of them with a knife and you feared a fight would ensue any moment. Before you could even turn around to a coworker and get some help, Greg was between them now telling them to settle. You prayed Greg wouldn’t recognize the tall, skinny boy and kick him out as you had feared previously. Greg seemed more focused on the handsome man at the bar, perhaps sensing more hostility from him. After he escorted the handsome man out, the shaggy haired boy seemed to have won and he stood there giving you a smile as you cleaned up more of your area. When the situation diffused, you walked over to him at the bar top.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” You said, tucking a hair behind your ear once more. He made you nervous, he liked to look at you and with an intensity behind his eyes when he did.

“Hey, no problem.” He made a gesture with his hands as if to say so. You reached into the cooler, grabbed a beer and popped the top, sliding it across the bar top to the boy. He looked at it trepidatiously and took it in his hands after staring for a moment.

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” you whispered across to him and smiled. You knew he was probably hesitant because of the club rules, and he had just come face to face with the bouncer again, who apparently didn’t recognize him.

“Thanks,” He did a cheers notion into the air and took a sip, glancing at the label. He smiled at you again and you smiled back, thankful that at least one guy tonight wasn’t being a total jerk.

“You wanna grab some food after you get off?” He asked, taking a few more sips of his beer.

“I’d love that but...” you trailed off. He looked at you inquisitively.

“I don’t even know your name.” You said to him, realizing that he had never addressed himself even when you were outside before.

“Oh shit, hey, I’m uh - I’m Tommy,” he seemed to almost bounce up and down with excitement when he talked and it made you giggle to yourself.

“Well, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand towards him and he took it, shaking your hand gently and staring into your eyes.

“Well then Tommy, give me an hour or two and I’m all yours.” You grinned, and he did the same back to you in victory.

(Alright I already have a part two written and a part three started, just wanted to get a feel for what you guys think of this so far!)

Tags: @itsmotleyfuckingcrue @swoopygorl @madsthegroupie @caos18blog @pandem--onium @annabeth-14 @langdonsdemon @rxsesinjune @machinegunkiki @itsharleyalb @sisterchristixn @luv4fandoms @yesloverboy @solohqrry @anxious-diabetic @she-likes-dead-flowers @leterscam @kennisababe @twistnet @kat-976 @jongkey1221 @peyton-wieland @technicallyvirtualmilkshake @criminalyetminimal

[videogamesincolor]

What’s your assessment of Sheva as a character/how Capcom has written her?

NARRATIVELY

For the most part, I have minor issues with the writing forSheva as far as her character is concerned. Throughout Resident Evil 5,she comes off as the more level-headed, and resourceful of the characters you’re allowed to control. She wascompetently portrayed and struck the right kind of balance that made LeonKennedy such a personable character for people to become attached to and projectupon in Resident Evil 2 before hebecame a literal Supercop in Resident Evil 4 and Resident Evil 6.

The major complaint I have is that her background contains a bit about her being as a child from an impoverished family that was exploited in a factory owned by Umbrella, then murdered by said Corporation. Mostly because it plays on and relies so heavily on the stereotype of the total population in Africa (as viewed by media in general) as impoverished and easily victimized by outside forces for the sake of less than genuine drama.

But, as far as tragic back story fodder goes, the death of her parents is a good motivator, and her vendetta against the Umbrella Corporation (later and Excella) is extended beyond Chris’ revenge kick and need to save Jill from Wesker’s abuses, which isn’t something I was ever emotionally invested in on account of not caring about Chris unless Claire was around.

I think Sheva has the strongest backstory and relevancy tothe story Resident Evil 5 chose totell. Given Sheva and Josh Stone are the only characters in the game with a personal investment in what happens to West Africa, they could’ve done something with the angle of an American Corporation (Umbrella) exploiting foreign territory and communities for profit if they cared about approaching the subject with any kind of care or respect (but silly me expecting that from an RE game /s).

There’s clear distinction about what the narrative considers important or a priority, and it’s not necessarily what’s happening in to the people who’ve been exploited by Excella and Wesker. Chris is a stranger running around West Africa, while Sheva is watching someone fuck up her “backyard” as it were. For Chris it’s just a job, and later it becomes all about Jill and Wesker. In that sense, Sheva’s function as a character is to allow Chris to redeem himself (from not saving Jill from her self-imposed sacrifice) and relearn “the power of teamwork”.

The game doesn’t do enough to incorporate Sheva’s backstory into the game beyond her telling Chris her parents were murdered by Umbrella, and Josh saying that Sheva is like his little sister. It’s disappointing because I kinda wish they had done something with her history as a teenage militia turned US government agent, instead of having her behave as though they had absolutely no one to rely on (other than Josh) when she goes rogue with Chris.

Sheva’sentire motivation is avenging her home, the BSAA operatives that workedalongside her and Josh Stone, and stopping Excella, the owner of the parentcompany (TRICELL) who is implicitly involved in the deaths of her people. Shevais the emotional anchor for what was happening in the fictional arenas of WestAfrica (Kijuju in particular), but Resident Evil 5ain’t interested in all that (regrettably).

A lot of people use Sheva wanting Chris to return to base (IIRC) with her after fighting that giant ass troll monster as an example of her lacking commitment to her job or cowardice. But, I think the scene encapsulates Sheva using plain common sense, whereas Chris is the pure embodiment of Rambo at this point (all action, no plan whatsoever).

If Sheva has any other problems as a character, it’s that she’s at the mercy of a narrative that doesn’t care about its harmful portrayal of West Africa, and the consequences that come with falling back on vitriolic anti-Black stereotypes.

Resident Evil 5 is a game obsessed with the American War aesthetic presented in films like Black Hawk Down, and Tears of the Sun.As far as scenario designers for Resident Evil 5 are concerned, West Africa is just exotic background fodder for their white protagonist to march about and Sheva, even with her own stake in the narrative, is plot justification for his being there. 

VISUALLY

Up front, I like Sheva’s character design. I think it’sthe right amount of cool when you pair her casual wear with a bunch of combatgear, knee high boots, and a gigantic gun that is her weapon of choice. I alsothink the color lavender did a great deal to make her visually distinct (as theywanted) from Chris, Mr. Green.

Thinking more critically, her design is perhaps overlyfocused on attractiveness verses functionality with regard to her profession asa BSAA operative, and they drive that message home with her hyper-sexualized alternate costumes, which have more or less reduced the character to nothing more than a porn fetish for people who use Gary’s Mod, Xnalara, and Source Filmmaker.

Where characters like Rebecca Chambers (RE0, RE Remake), Sherry Birkin or Helena Harper (RE6) and Jill Valentine(Lost in Nightmares) seemed designed around their given situations or presentcircumstances of their jobs, Sheva stands out like a sore thumb as the onlyfemale character in RE5 who wasn’t.

Obviously, she’s not the first or the last female characterto have this happen to in the franchise (Everything Ada Wong wears, Jessica Sherawat and the Ms. Cleavage from the original Revelations are perfect counter-examples), but it’s kind’ve glaringgiven how Jill was portrayed in the Lostin Nightmares DLC.

The design template for Sheva becomes even more questionablewhen you consider how her fellow BSAA operatives are dressed when you finallyencounter them in the game. Everyone’s ready for combat situations, but Shevais out there looking like she rushed to work after a night out and forgot heruniform.

Nothing about Sheva’s character design says she’s from theBSAA. I’d say the only concept for her character that might’ve reflected herposition in the BSAA was probably the beige militia design with the short sleevesand red turtleneck (nix the hat). Otherwise, she kinda falls into the realm of“sexy girl”, but it’s not egregious like Trish’s Blackface costume (“Gloria”)from Devil May Cry 4.

In terms of character design, when they weren’t batting forcomplete and utter photo-realism like they are now with the RE-Engine (resignedsighs), I really think Sheva’s character design and the overall approach theytook to designing characters in RE5 (sans Chris) standout as the best that thefranchise ever had to offer. There’s no uncanny valley like there is with RE7and it’s not completely animated like CodeVeronica. It struck a perfect balance and Sheva is without a doubt the bestrepresentation of that as a character.

As a fair-skinned Black female character – (who wasoriginally designed with a much darker complexion than finalized) – washed outby the ugly yellow/sepia filter in ResidentEvil 5, Sheva comes off as a bit suspect when you consider the grandmajority of your antagonists (parasite infected civilians that reflect theimage of absolute poverty often associated with the continent of Africa) aredark-skinned. (Josh as the only major positive representative of dark-skinned Black characters in supportive terms is kinda not a great look.)

Juxtapose her against the really ugly anti-Black images presentin the game, and Capcom’s design template for Sheva comes off as extremelyproblematic. Kinda tells you just how deep the colorism problem is and whatdevs perceive as “good” and “bad” within the spectrum of Blackness.

It’s also probably interesting to note that Sheva’scharacter was intentionally designed to instill a sense of protectiveness inthe player. And, yes, the kind of protectiveness that Crystal Dynamics soldreboot Lara Croft on. 

They literally banked on Shevabeing “feminine enough” to the player that they’d want to protect her from harm(they also wanted her slender, which is why she probably doesn’t lookparticularly buff, like, say, Nadine Ross from Uncharted 4.). It’s acomplete disassociation from how well she actually was handled in the endproduct. She is notthe incapable damsel that production statement implies (to me).

OVERALL

Considering Sheva was originally a NPC in one of the earlieriterations of Resident Evil 5 andsalvaged from whatever they abandoned to become Chris’ BSAA partner, Sheva turned out to be asolid character for the franchise’s original direction. 

At her core,Sheva had all the right material to be a longstanding protagonist in the Resident Evil franchise (just like CarlosOliveira) before they entered the RE6 and RE7 era and shot themselves in thefoot.

I don’t think Resident Evil 5 should’ve been about Chris Redfield and his grudgematch with Albert Wesker. There was enough material riding behind Sheva’sentire backstory, the BSAA and her relationship behind the incidents going on Kijujuthat you could exclude Chris and make the game entirely about her and JoshStone’s exploits. Excella could’ve been the Wesker to her Chris, Josh her Jill.They are walking protagonists stuck behind mainstays and that sucks.

Sheva is untapped potential in a franchise that isscrabbling to save itself from irrelevancy and publisher mistakes. She is the strongest new character Capcom managed to produce in their later franchise. She definitely made a better impression than Moira Burton, DietWesker (Jake whoever), Helena Harper, Piers whoever, and the whole cast of the Revelationgames.

Sheva is a character I would’ve liked to have seen make a return, but I’ve well accepted she ain’t comingback to the central franchise as a lead (like I want her to). She wouldprobably end up getting FUBAR’ed anyway if Capcom ever decided to believeher presence worthy of their time again.

[mutualhighmaintenancemachin-blog]

I need a fix cus I'm going down

Made the mistake of appraising myself sufficiently healthy to attend a bonfire with normal decent tax-payer type folks. Stood up too fast in my chair and blacked out completely, hit my head on concrete. When I came to i had no earthly fucking memory of having driven to the bonfire, nor could i really recall the names of the three concerned hipsters perched over my limp doughy abscessed jaundiced shit heap of a body. Told them it was a problem with blood sugar, i had forgotten to imbibe my afternoon orange juice! Translation-haven’t slept in four days, taking in roughly two hundred calories a day all in ginger ale. Meth heads opt to sustain themselves on a diet of paranoid resentment in lieu of proteins and grains. The cook gets super spun and lectures us like we’re babes about the dark leftist forces presently waging war on the masculinity of the white man-for one thing, he's convinced that jews run the porn industry and that fucking pornhub is riddled with overtures both overt and subliminal intended to brainwash white guys into identifying as weak and feminine and to associate men of color with heroism and strength. He also believes that soy causes gender dysphoria. All of these batshit crazy delusions act like stars in the broad constellation of the cooks worst dystopian fears-a workforce with no room left for traditionally male-centered leadership characteristics dominated from top-down by a host of future ladies who make their trade in creative collaboration, rather than fear and theft of other peoples ideas. Without a need for a provider, our nazi-bespectacled methamphetamine cook envisions a new sexual economy in which women will jettison their attachments to the family structure in favor of like, industrialism, i guess, and men will have no other resort but a desperate turn to cross-dressing and dick-taking and i guess maybe stitching scarves. It was at this point that i was really tempted to tell the cook something he needs to hear-if you really believe that large shadow societies are orchestrating history just cus they want to make you some dudes boyfriend, its probably cus part of you wants to be. I get that, sucking dick is a blast. if you’re terrified that you can’t compete in a post-modern job market, it might just be because you aren’t. There’s no place left for cowboys or outlaws or methcooks cus those professions only make sense in the context of an insanely violent frontier. You feel obsolete and useless because you are, but make no mistake, that hurt has nothing to do with the world everything to do with your soul being severely malnourished. I know cus mine is too! Real moral christian courage is showing up to your crucifixion with a smile on your face ready to graciously thank the romans for every nail they put through your wrist. You feel empty because your a paranoid fascist meth cook, i feel bad cus I'm a junkie. We are bad. The nazi pilots who blitzed france in two sleepless, speed-fueled nights probably felt fucking fantastic, as if they were aloft on the trade winds of history itself and their momentum across europe must have seemed like proof enough of the moral righteousness of the german cause. But then the morning comes and the meth wears off and your skin smells like piss and your back aches and you can’t stop grinding your jaw and the first wave of survivors begin to trickle out from the camps and presumably in that moment a few nazis had the epiphany-that the very same starved beaten traumatized jewish women and men and children they had aspired to extinguish from human memory were now going to tell the story of what had happened. Power loses, grace is its own kingdom, etc etc. Furthermore those german officers who managed to transition back to civilian life and start families must have experienced a very strange new parental dynamic-can you imagine a family at a dinner table and the proud head of household instructs his small son to finish his vegetables and after pausing to mull it over for a few moments his son turns to him and says Father having thought about it a great deal i don’t think ill be following your instructions-after all you were only following instructions yourself when you helped to engineer the greatest cruelty in human history! To which ostensibly the father mumbles to clear his throat and asks his wife to pass the potato salad. Not even to invoke the possibility that the Fuhrer himself Mr. Adolph Hitler probably died surrounded by a swarm of shadow people, fucking hilarious just the thought, him yelling in that distinctive manic patois of his that he’s the leader and the abeyance of his will is sacrosanct blah blah blah while the little invisible mites under his pale skin shift and swell and scratch and the shadow people dancing around his peripheral vision taunting and cajoling and ridiculing him and the absurdity of his final solution and because he didn’t know speed the way we now know speed he probably didn’t know anything about the shadow people at all from his perspective they might just as well have been the ghosts of his victims come to taunt and ridicule him in his lowest hour pointing and laughing and daring him to pull the trigger!   

The same entitlement motivates the mass shooter who imagines a world full of seven billion perfect strangers as an attack on his rightful pursuit of happiness. No one will sleep with him and he can’t make sense of his place in a world built on fucking so he begins to indulge in fantasies of coercion, revenging himself on the very public space he so craved Now if our hypothetical douchebag had any pretense of self-awareness he might have looked into the possibility of adopting several dogs, and in turn coming to see his life as a story about caring unconditionally for animals. That’s a helluva life-Saint Francis got into the catholic hall of fame for doing not a whole lot more. Or perhaps he could adjust his expectations of intimacy in consideration of the countless plain-to middling-to ugly folks who are forced to come to terms with the truth early on that all of our bodies are grotesque and hideously deformed billboard advertisements for our big beautiful impossibly dense souls-come see a kernel of divine inspiration made self-aware, shimmering in the glory of creation,  just two exits past the tits and chin and ankles and all the rest of our faulty parts. 

Now a discerning reader(however unlikely you’d be to find one in an audience consisting of absolutely fucking nobody lol) might have already begun to detect a certain heady strain of hypocrisy in this authors conclusion. Because while I'm not much of anything the one thing i certainly am is a self-destructive drug addict. So maybe its one thing for me to make fun of the cook for his wrath-filled flu-stricken infants tantrum of a way of viewing the world, assigning to his solipsism a generation-hopping solidarity with his nazi forefathers who came before and identifying in his politics the germinal seed of fascisms future, a politics so personal and self-contained that every divorce will be debated as if it were a stand in for larger cultural decay, every morning hangover a portent of spiritual decline, the vitals of the stock market remeasured and reassessed each time someone finds on the sidewalk a loose dollar bill. Political assemblies with real largesse exclusively devoted to trolling the instagram of a nebraskan man named doug’s now ex-wife  for pictures of her maui vacation with husband number two drinking mojitos on a beach with sand bleached white as bone and both of them grinning with surgical precision an opulent almost confrontational kind of public grinning Doug couldn't recall that bitch ever having felt for him and the kids off playing in the surf and well how could any concerned and conscientious citizen fail to see the basic threat to democracy that whole scene represents? Donald Trump is probably the loneliest man in the world. He’s never met another person. He spends his time wandering the halls of his head checking for reoccurrences of his own reflection, a lifetime spent pathologically re-telling the same story about how he came to be the most powerful person in the world, so that by the time he really became who he had always pretended to be, the most influential figure in the free world, he had long-since bought into his own fraud to such a great extent that even the real thing couldn’t compare. Only a selfishness and self-centeredness as grandiloquent as his could explain the mindset of the modern mass shooter and the micro-politics informing him. He confuses his head for the world and then becomes enraged when it won’t do as he wishes, cursing the rain for its cold lash against his shoulder where he’d rather there have rested warm summer glow, furious at the thought of all the people he would never meet in far-off places he would never see who never paid him any attention whatsoever. Playing peek-a-boo a little bit of cheating peer through chubby fingers arrayed like a geisha’s fan and for the first time see that objects don’t disappear without our gaze to ontologically anchor them to earth. What a hurt. Now it might be technically correct that my addiction does to my loving family what the selfishness of the mass shooter does to public space. It intrudes like an alien thing and turns the air chilly in our childhood home and it transforms the medicine cabinet into a contested territory in need of defensive fortification and now that Cassies marriage has crashed on the rocks of addiction nobody could blame her if she never allowed another addict to darken her doorstep again and there was the sight of Jan opening my trucks passenger side door and a few rigs fell out onto the floor and all the spoons in the house have one side burnt-and-bruised like a black-eye you say you got from falling down a flight of stairs despite body language that says something entirely else why is it we don’t have a single spoon in the house what ghost spends all night punching the walls full of holes 

recently went to an Alanon meeting to sneak a glimpse of how the other half lives...this lady said my addiction is to loving my addict. Bawled rivers out from red raw-rubbed rubber eyes and said my addiction is to my addict Not her person or qualifier or partner but her addict. Syntax almost seeming to suggest that something about the existential plight of the addict gets her intoxicated dizzy on pain. It’s quaint though cus that sort of sentiment is for fucking rookies-guarantee you no ones crying over me like a romantic. Not anymore. My thing these days is of a distinctly more shakespearian strand of tragedy, with wittgenstein and derrida’s influences also undeniable. I’m sick now in a way where people stop crying and praying you’ll find God and change and decide instead it’d be easier to just cross the street. Schizophrenics lost in a chorus meant only just for them, apocalyptic street preachers who stand on soap boxes while reeking of shit and give voice to visions of an America not our own, an alternate dimension where european arrival at the shores of the new world stalled out somewhere halfway across the pacific ocean on a wave so tall it scraped the heavens and America grew up a nation of nomads who set their watches to the rumbling migration of herds of buffalo and not even the highest priest could dream of a more beautiful idea than that of motion, movement without cease, the only acceptable fixed still frozen property being the burial mounds where the dead went after all their motion had gone-if they could view us on the other side of the looking glass stolen away in our own personal homes they would almost certainly come to the conclusion that this place where we live is just the land of the dead, a negative photograph of everything vital and good. Who would i be to disagree though, right? 

The point is anyway that some alchemical reaction of A. Mental illness and B. Amphetamine abuse has more or less stranded me in words. Verbs and nouns and adjectives and adverbs in place of sky and grass. What Fredric Jameson called the prison house of language. Where derrida’s difference goes to play for eternity, never quite meaning what it had meant to say. What shook wittgenstein speechless. The president’s rhetoric so hollow that you can almost see him suffering a kind of dementia or spiritual torpor that results from the badness of his faith. Chewing and chomping consonants and sounds till they all are made to mush and shearing syllable after syllable off the network of signification until all that’s left is one satellite pinging a distress call hello is anyone there off of its own side. It’s own side like Adam plucked Eve from his rib and said put on this dress-after they ate the fruit and God cast him/her out to walk the world alone reportedly God said have fun all alone you worthless slut. Imagine trumps final state of the union-i am very sick, i have been alone for as long as I can remember, i wish i hadn’t lied so often, i wish i had occasionally told the truth, i would trade all of it to have known just one person. 

Anyways, barring that miracle of political theater, the body gets sick and dissolves while the spirit is lost in words. I’d like to die in a bathroom stall in haughville with a rig stuck in my arm and the words I'm sorry stuck at the tip of my tongue and God decides to show some compassion and makes me a deal says you were never much good to people didn’t believe in a thing but you sure could do some impressive vomiting up of nonsense words and so what ill do is your soul will dissolve and turn into ink and for the rest of eternity you’ll be a naughty joke or a half-scribbled doggerel scrawled on the wall of a piss-soaked bathroom stall in the ghetto or you could say call this number here for a good time and don’t forget to ask for large marge and nobody’d ever suspect you were trapped in there or maybe a joke like this favorite of mine about my son it goes something like Jesus Christ was a God-awful carpenter, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Christ was a God-awful, couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. Couldn't pull a nail. Christ was God-awful. Couldn’t nail his own couldn’t save a carpenter terrible couldn’t pull god-awful a terrible carpenter he couldn’t pull a nail to save his own life. I can’t pull this nail to save my own life. It’s right there sticking out of my wrist, but for whatever reason I just can’t find the right words to pull it out he was a carpenter who couldn’t pull a nail even if his life depended on it couldn't save his own life he couldn't-

For a good time call this number 1-555-555-5555 and don’t forget to ask for-

[violent-optimism]

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (Revisit)

Long post below!

Hey everyone!

Because this semester is starting to really take a toll on me and I need some good escapism, I figured it would be a great time to revisit Peter Jackson’s “The Hobbit” trilogy (2012-2014).

Now, some of you might not know this, but when I first joined Tumblr I was SUPER into these movies since they were just coming out around that time. It was probably one of the first (if not the first) things I ever blogged about, which feels like forever ago!

I’m not going to pretend that everyone is crazy about these movies. I recognize they have issues. I recognize that not everyone enjoyed them. But as per usual these reviews are going to contain MY personal opinion and mine alone. I actually think that, for the most part, these films hit the mark pretty well, are pleasantly entertaining and have great re-watch value much like their LOTR counterparts.

I think enough time has passed since the trilogy’s release that we can talk about these movies more objectively and with more critical thinking, which is exactly what I intend to do!

Let’s start appropriately with the first film in the trilogy: “An Unexpected Journey” which came out in 2012, just a little more than 7 years ago.

So the main question that I want to answer with this film (and the other films in the trilogy) is this: Does the film still hold up today? Why or why not?

First things first, let’s look at what “An Unexpected Journey” does not do well. These are things that could have definitely been improved upon or should have been omitted altogether.

One major gripe I hear about a lot with this film is the pacing. Unlike some of the other complaints, I have to completely agree with this one. While I will do my best to not compare this trilogy to its LOTR predecessor (because I don’t see how that helps my review and it’s also downright unfair), I will say that for all the lengthy run-times that Frodo’s journey gave us, the pacing always felt consistent and smooth. Yes, the movies would go on for a long time, but the sequencing of scenes and fast paced movement at least gave the illusion that the story was moving along at a decent rate.

With “An Unexpected Journey”, this is unfortunately not the case. For a story that is built around the thrill of an exciting adventure, the film pauses at many moments to explain backstory, give exposition and slow the pace down in many other ways. With this being the case, the film feels very “stop and go” with fast and slow scenes spliced together which ultimately ruins the pace of the story, especially in the first half. For example, the White Council scene is fascinating and gives us a rare look at seeing the most powerful figures of Middle Earth in one scene together; however it’s ultimately nothing but exposition and does not drive the adventure forward whatsoever. Thorin’s Company leaving Gandalf behind could be a metaphor for how desperately the film needed to move along at this point.  

Luckily, the last half of this movie (Overhill and Underhill onward) is rescued from this sluggish pace and actually manages to pick up quite a bit in the last act. It is also fortunate that this pacing demon does not chase after the other subsequent films and seems to only terrorize the first hour and a half of “An Unexpected Journey”.

What else doesn’t work in this film? Well…the humour is a bit strange for one thing. Despite having a PG-13 rating, the film can’t seem to decide whether or not it wants to make little kids laugh or older adults. There’s gross-out humour, toilet humour (there are Dwarves and Trolls after all) and there is even a ball joke. That’s right, a BALL joke in a film adapted from Professor Tolkien’s work (who I’m sure is rolling in his grave right about now). To be fair the ball joke is actually kind of funny, but that’s neither here nor there. I might have found most of the jokes in this film funny when I first saw it, but now I can only chuckle at a few things, one of them being the many hilarious facial expressions that Martin Freeman makes in almost every scene he’s in. The film does have some decent jokes, but for the most part they’re only the kind that 3 year olds or people with a gross sense of humour would genuinely laugh at.

Slow pacing and toilet humour aside, the film is actually quite successful in many other areas. Finally we get to the good stuff, the more positive stuff. Here is what “An Unexpected Journey” excels in.

Two words right out the gate: Martin F*cking Freeman (okay that’s three but you know he would approve of the swear word). Even after all this time, even after watching his performance again and again, I am still so amazed at how effortlessly and inexplicably Martin Freeman transforms into Bilbo Baggins. I wish I could explain this any better but he truly becomes the character of Bilbo. His body language, his mannerisms, the way he delivers certain lines, the authentic stutters and stammers, his FACIAL EXPRESSIONS. I could go on and on, and I am clearly a bit biased, but I think you would be very challenged to find anyone who has a problem with his acting. The casting for both LOTR and The Hobbit are completely perfect, but I think the team really deserves a pat on the back for getting the protagonist so freakin’ RIGHT; especially when you look at who they were also considering for the part *shudder*.

Speaking of other actors, I also believe that every single Dwarf was cast perfectly. Richard Armitage is absolutely fantastic as Thorin Oakenshield and contrasts beautifully with Freeman’s less rugged character. His best acting is yet to come but he still stands out quite a lot in this first installment. I’m pretty sure this is the role that put him on the map and rightfully so.

I’m not going to review every Dwarf actor performance (this review is already long enough!) but I will say that in a nutshell, they all play their role exactly as you would imagine. With 13 characters you can’t expect the character development to be all there, but Jackson and co do somehow manage to show every Dwarf’s unique personality in some small way, which I think is really amazing and could not have been an easy task.

Other aspects that might seem “lesser” such as make-up, costumes, production design and so forth are done extremely well in this movie. I will be forever bitter that “Les Mis” won the Oscar for best hair and make-up back in 2013 and “An Unexpected Journey” did not, when it was abundantly clear which film was more deserving of the award. I digress, this film looks amazing. Every actor, creature, set and animated pixel looks exactly the way it should. From Gollum’s eyes to Bilbo’s detailed buttons, the film shines from an aesthetic and visual perspective. It would also be a major disservice to write this review without mentioning the brilliant and soul-touching soundtrack composed once again by Howard Shore, a true genius of his craft. The “Misty Mountains” theme is unique to this film and serves very well as an ode to the adventure.

What I believe to be the most compelling and heartwarming aspect of this film is the relationship that develops between Bilbo and Thorin. It is the best story gem of the movie if not the entire trilogy as a whole. While at first disapproving and avoidant of the Hobbit, Thorin comes to accept and even care for Bilbo after having his life saved by the unlikely hero. The scene where he tells Bilbo he was wrong about him and gives him a heartfelt hug never fails to bring a tear to my eye.

Well folks, what more can I say? It’s certainly not a perfect film; indeed it has flaws that can make the viewing a little more than uncomfortable. On the other hand, I really do believe there are several things “An Unexpected Journey” gets very right. While the slow pace and odd humour is hard to ignore, it is equally hard not to fall in love with the film’s acting, visuals and a story full of heart.

I must say I am very glad that I revisited this film. It has always been my least favourite of the trilogy although now it seems like an unfair title to bestow. It is a charming tale and an inoffensive film. These days, that is a welcome find.

Upon revisiting this film, I am going to give “An Unexpected Journey” 7.5 out of 10.