#or does it stem from the thing about how the scariest thing a woman can do is eat alone?

[garden-the-goblin]

Big fan of the reoccurring motif in fiction where god is just a little girl. Like I adore how writers came to the unanimous agreement that the most terrifying thing you could be is a little girl left to her own devices. That's good shit.

[media-on-the-mind101]

Split : Dissociative Identity Disorder (Movie)

*May contain spoilers*

I’m starting off with one of my favorite movies about a disorder that is very controversial. Split, the sequel to Unbreakable and prequel to Glass, stars British actor James MacCavoy as Kevin Wendell Crumb who suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). The existence of DID, formerly called Multi-personality Disorder, is controversial though it is listed in the fifth and current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM -Five).

The DSM-Five defines DID as “the presence of two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with it’s own relatively enduring pattern or perceiving, relating to, and thinking about the environment and self.” Other symptoms include those similar to depression; lack of appetite, suicidal ideation, and some that resemble other dissociation disorders: being out of touch from environment, having blackouts, and selective amnesia. Some even resemble Bipolar II or Borderline Personality Disorder, such as extreme changes in mood.

In the movie, Kevin shows many of these symptoms including having two or more distinct personalities. But were the personalities portrayed accurately? And was his treatment portrayed accurately?

Above: Kevin’s many personalities

Kevin has a total of 23 personalities (excluding the beast which appears at the end and his normal personality) but the movie only focuses on five : Hedwig, Barry, Jade, Dennis, and Patricia. Each personality is exaggerated, cartoonish, and completely different from the others. Hedwig is a nine-year-old boy who can’t pronounce his Rs, while Jade is a stereotypical teenage girl. Patricia is a posh British lady, while Barry is a levelheaded artist. Finally, Dennis is the angry man who kidnapped the girls.

Based on the definition of DID, there is no doubt that Kevin has this disorder; the symptoms would not fully match any other diagnosis. But just how realistic are his personalities portrayed?

The main thing I questioned while watching this movie, was how some of Kevin’s personalities had different abilities. I noticed that one wears glasses and one has a speech impediment, but the rest do not. Biologically, this would not make any sense, because the personalities are coming from the same body. So can people with DID really have personalities with different physical abilities? The answer is, surprisingly, yes.

In 2015, a 37 year old German women who had gone blind twenty years ago from brain damage, regained her eyesight in some of her split personalities. The case study was fascinating, and I felt chills run down my spine while researching it. Indeed, brain scans confirmed that the recovery of her vision was real; the visual cortex was inactive in her blind personalities, but active in her seeing personalities. One explanation for this phenomenon was psychogenic blindness, a conversion disorder (disorder that cannot be explained by damage) which is often developed after experiencing a traumatic event. So is it realistic for Dennis to wear glasses while the other personalities don’t? In rare cases, yes.

The same case revealed that some of her personalities spoke German while others spoke English. Other DID patients have been known to have similar experiences. Some also report foreign accent syndrome, in which they take on an accent different from their own. So if this is possible, then a personality with a speech impediment should not be that surprising. 

While researching the brain areas that are tied to speech, I came across information that could help answer this question. According to jneuro.com, there are about five different areas which control speech. These include the cerebellum, basal ganglia, and others. The theory behind foreign accent syndrome is that patients have damage in their abilities to program their sequence of movement and position of muscles in which they speak. The same concept applies to people who develop speech impediments. I could not find any information about speech impediments in DID, but based on the information about speech and foreign accent syndrome, it certainly seems possible. So that explains Hedwig’s speech impediment and Patricia’s British accent.

Another thing I was skeptical about, was weather or not a person with DID can take on a personality of a different age and actually have the cognitive abilities of that age. In a sense, do they truly regress, and how? According to healthyplace.com, this is indeed possible, however the cause is not certain. According to the National Center for Biotechnology information (NCBI), the frontal lobe is main center for planning, impulse control, and working memory in the brain. The development of this area is what causes a person to be more careless during adolescence, and more careful as the get older. Damage to the frontal lobe causes people to regress back to childhood behavior, as seen in the famous case of Phineas Gage who developed behavioral problems after getting his head impaled by a tamping rod. In people with DID, their entire brain has problems in functioning, including the frontal lobe. So it seems plausible that a person with DID could revert back to childhood behaviors. However, the changes in cognitive abilities and level of knowledge have not been explained.

Finally, I want to discuss the personality that we’ve all been waiting for: the beast. Considered the phoniest personality of them all, the “monster” is also the scariest. The other personalities are trying to protect Kevin from the “beast.” The reason he is seen as phony is because he possesses inhuman abilities, such as the ability to climb up walls. He also becomes cannibal. I could not find any evidence that this personality is actually possible. However, I did find many other blogs which addressed the same issue about the movie. The “beast” personality implies that a person with DID can change their strength and physiology to be able to defy gravity, and scientifically this is not possible.

While climbing up wall is not possible unless you are Spider-man, some of the monster’s trait might actually be plausible. Physiological arousal happens even in healthy people, and this arousal can cause a person to become more aggressive and develop physical strength they did not have previously. In disorders such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), the physiological arousal is triggered by memories of the traumatic event. According to the NCBI, a case study showed that a woman with DID had a tendency to switch personalities when under stress. 

 DID is usually caused by traumatic events, and the personalities can be brought on by triggers, so it makes sense that the person would already be aroused, and thus, lose control. However, the beast’s behavior is extreme and more similar to possession. I found a book called “Born Evil” which tells the real-life story of a serial killer who was cannibal and had DID. While there are a handful of serial killers who are known for cannibalism, most of them were diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, or were not diagnosed at all. Jeffery Dahmer was diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder, according to Wikipedia. So the cannibalism part of the monster’s personality is possible but not well known to happen.

The part that got me most was the fact that the “beast” was a probably a metaphor for Kevin’s harsh past. In people with DID, their personalities stem from a traumatic event to protect the person from the memory of that event. So in a sense, the “monster” should actually have been Kevin’s overbearing, Obsessive-Compulsive mother. This is clear because his other personalities were trying to protect him from it. 

Kevin’s “Dennis” personality showed some obsessive compulsive tendencies as well. While there is no evidence that people with DID can actually have a personality with OCD, studies have found a phenomenological overlap between the two. According to the NCBI, one study showed that in rare cases, people with OCD can have higher levels of dissociative experiences. These people feel that alternate personalities are responsible for their obsessions and compulsions. However, this sample size of this study was too small to determine any strong correlations or causations. I think having the “beast” turn out to be Kevin’s mom would have made a much more realistic and meaningful ending, and would have been educational about DID and how traumatic events can effect people.

Now that we’ve discussed how the disorder was portrayed, I want to discuss how the treatment was portrayed as well. According to psychcentral.com, the main treatments for DID are therapy, medication, and hospitalization. The types of therapies used include; cognitive behavioral (CBT), dialectical behavioral (DBT, a type of CBT), hypnotherapy (hypnosis), and sensorimotor psychotherapy (becoming aware of physiological signs that personality is about to change, and controlling the change). Medications include selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors (SSRIs), other anxiety medications, and antipsychotics. Some take benzodiazepines which were originally made for people with Borderline Personality Disorder.

Therapy for DID is unique in that it comes in three stages. Stage 1 is reducing self-destructive or suicidal behaviors, learning coping skills, regulating emotion, and relaxation techniques. In stage 2, patients begin to process their traumatic memories. Finally, stage 3 includes reconnecting to themselves and others and refocusing on life goals. Patients may achieve a more solid sense of self and, thus causing their personalities to fuse back into one. The three stages are not linear, so patients may alternate between them, or they may overlap. Some patients don’t make it through all three phases.

In the movie, Kevin has a therapist, and receives talk therapy which is a type of CBT. However, he does not take any medication. Kevin does not get hospitalized. His treatment is not in the three stages, or at least the stages are not mentioned. Like many movies, “Split” focuses more on the symptoms of the disorder then the treatment, so the treatment does not go into detail. While Kevin’s treatment is not untrue to real life, the movie left out a lot of important details that would have educated the audience.

In conclusion, I believe that “Split” did have some errors in it’s portrayal of DID, but was not as far off as people think. Many other blogs are bashing it for it’s inaccuracy, but according to my research, most of the symptoms shown are not impossible. While “Split” may have left out a lot of symptoms such as depression, lack of appetite, each person experiences the disorder differently and does not necessarily show every symptom. As for treatment, the movie did portray it somewhat realistically, but left out a lot of important details, such as medication, hospitalization, and the three stages. 

I think it would be great if movie directors hired mental health consultants, the same we they hire medical consultants on TV shows like House. This way, the portrayal of both the illness and the treatment would be more accurate, and educating to the audience. The movie would also be less frustrating for people who actually have the disorder, because they would feel that people are getting more accurate ideas about the illness. I think the media plays a big role in the stigma toward mental illness, and having more accurate portrayals could potentially change it. Even movies based on real-life stories are not always accurate, as I will discuss in my future blogs.

Thank you for reading, and if you have any questions or requests for future articles, please message me or talk to me in the comments!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 16)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 3,200    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, smut, R-rated language, oral sex

~~~~~

The drive back from Cas and Jack’s, after dropping them off, was quiet except for the airstream whipping past and into Baby’s cabin, and the Zeppelin soundtrack. Dean liked that Julie seemed fine just… being. And, just being with him. Not a ton of talk filling up the space between them.

After two weeks of being brushed off by Julie - dealing in her own way, which he respected, with the crazy shit she’d gone through - he felt anything but distant from her now. He’d come to terms with a lot during Julie’s unspoken restraining order. One, that this was turning into something greater than an infatuation. Another, Julie was not another hot chick of the week that he could save and reap sexy rewards and move on. This was not a throwback to his full-time hunting slash lothario days. Most important and scariest: he really wanted to keep her in his inner circle.

The question that kept resounding in his head. How? How would he do that, tell her everything, deal with the fallout? How does anything normal form after I show my hand? He could make love to this beautiful woman for days and days and enjoy every goddamn second of it. But, how could he really get close to her? And keep her safe? He realized how much he craved wanting to keep her safe. Story of my life.

Fuck it. Just making my head hurt with this round and round bullshit. She’s here. Now. His fingers crept over the front seat and wedged into the slit of crossed, warm, silky bare thighs. With a nonchalant motion, she angled more in his direction and allowed better access. A light smirk lined her lips as she stared out the passenger side window; the curve of her nose more prominent in the profile he glanced at again and again. He didn’t tease further, even though he wanted to dip his fingers into her folds; see if she was wet, soaked. He’d been dealing with a semi all fucking day, after all. She better be drenched. Only fair.

His palm pressed into her skin. Just inches away from that sweet snack. His tongue swirled in his mouth, remembering how tangy and sweet she tasted. How she bucked and twisted and ticked like a little time bomb. How gorgeous she looked when she came for him. He debated if he should pull off to the shoulder and eat her out again before they got home. Right in the front seat. He shook his head. No. That’ll lead to a fast and quick fuck. Way too quick. Dean shifted in his seat and caught Julie staring at him in confusion. “What are you arguing with yourself about?” She smiled.

Dean cleared his throat. “Nothin.”

By the time he was at his front door, working the lock open, he was amped and ready to pounce. It took every ounce of will power to rein in his need.

Her body leaned into his back. The warmth of her chin rested into the dip under his shoulder blades. “Getting tired, sweetheart?”

“Nope. Just like being close to you.”

He smiled, gaining entry. “So cheesy, it’s cute.”

“Yeah. You’re rubbing off on me.”

A flick of a nearby wall switch turned on the ceiling fan light in the living room. His eyes inventoried the space. Not the cleanest; but not the dirtiest it’s been, either. He spun and pulled her into the house by an arm and kicked the door closed. “I wanna rub all over you.”

Julie’s surprised and awakened eyes met his grin. She laughed. “Promise?”

His body pressed into the curves he wanted to memorize and ride all damn night. He nodded into a kiss that began on her lips, swept over her cheeks and trailed down the side of her neck. His fists curled into and tightened the t-shirt around her waist. “Italians do it better, huh?” He mumbled against her skin. ”We’ll see about that.”

A tight hitch of air caught in his throat at the feel of her fingers searching, finding, then fumbling with his belt buckle. His cock was inflating to fuck ready status in his jeans at an alarming rate, even for him. The strap loosened in an instant. Clinking of metal. A deft pull of leather through the denim loops, like a rip cord. Or a whip. The thought of Julie in a shiny black vinyl bustier swinging a riding crop made him bite his bottom lip.

His posture straightened. He dipped his chin to his chest to examine her thorough attentiveness with the task at hand. He didn’t relent his hold, pulling her even closer with clenched fists twisted in her t-shirt. The top of her lids and long lashes fluttered, staring at her own hands unbuttoning, unzipping. Quick inhales and exhales escaped her open mouth. He spied the tip of her tongue teasing that cupid’s bow. “Shit.” He moaned at the sight and feel of her fingers delving under the denim of his open fly, under the waistband of his boxer briefs, touching the heat and rigid state of his cock. She caressed and cupped his bulge, flicking her thumb over the head.

She tilted her face up to stare at him with those pretty brown eyes, tinted dark and heavy with lust. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. Her tongue tasted, investigated, matching the pace of her now stroking fingers.

His tongue swirled and danced with hers until she took a long languid suck. She pulled on the tip, held it hostage, then nibbled. The responsive muscle popped out of her mouth and he gasped. “Like having your way with me, sweetheart?” His chest heaved.

She grinned and nodded. “I wanna taste you.”

He gulped. “Bedroom’s this way.”

A shake of her head swung her ponytail. “Here. Can’t wait a second longer.” She kissed his lips one more time. The slide down his body was slow, meeting resistance from Dean who refused to release her t-shirt from his grasp. A sigh escaped from her lips. She pulled her hands out of his pants and lifted arms straight up. His eyes widened as she shimmied out of the shirt like it was a snake skin. The hypnotic display ended with her kneeled in front of him in a white cotton bra and those sweet jean shorts. The tops of her breasts stuffed into the cups rose and fell with her eagerness. His eyes lit up, glancing behind at the bare soles of her cute little feet. When the hell did she take off her sneakers and socks? She’s a little magician.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable on the hardwood, sweetheart.” He groaned at the pull of her fingers to get his jeans and underwear off. “Wait. Just a couple seconds longer.” He tossed her inside out t-shirt on one of the plaid couch cushions and strained to reach the blanket he always had over one of the armrests. He toed out of his sneakers and tossed the folded throw on the floor between them. His hands pulled her up by her armpits like a ragdoll. Long enough to nudge the blanket under her knees. “You’ll thank me later. Not as young as we used to be.” He grinned.

“You’ll thank me now.” She hummed and worked all of his bottom layers off in one quick peel to his thighs. His cock sprung out. She licked her lips at the sight and rocked back on her heels. “Of course, even this is pretty.” His grin dropped when her fingers slipped around the length and stroked, steady and slow. “Something this pretty shouldn’t have had to suffer all day.”

Damn. He rocked his head back. She’s good at this. “Longer than that.” He whispered.

“Hm?” He felt her rise up, using his cock as a handlebar. “What did you say?” Warm breath breezed over the tip. Her tongue flicked out to taste him. “Hm.” A satisfied moan. “What did you say, baby?” she repeated.

Shit. She’s using ‘baby’ now, too. He grit his teeth as the pace of her strokes picked up. He stared at the ceiling. “Been longer than a day.” The statement released from his throat with a struggle.

“How long has it been?” Another taste.

The words hiccupped out with each downward pump on his dick. He wouldn’t have been able to lie at that moment, even if he tried. “I haven’t… taken care of things… since that night we... were interrupted... by Cas.”

She stilled. “What?”

He sighed at the reprieve, still staring at the ceiling. “Lot going on, sweetheart. You were in the hospital and then when you got back home, things were… well, all that stuff you’ve been working through... I was too worried about you to jack off to naughty thoughts involving you.”

“Dean.” There was a hint of amazement in her voice.

God. I can feel her breath on my dick. Gonna cum on her face like it’s my goddamn first time if I can’t slow it down. Think about something else, anything else. Maybe I should paint the ceiling soon.

“That’s been over two weeks. Is that… normal for you?” Her fingers squeezed the base of his cock.

I can probably grab a couple gallons at the paint depot this week. He shrugged. “I’m pretty regular. Once a day. Sometimes more than that.”

“Have you been saving that all for me?”

I can hear the grin in her voice. Why the hell did I think abstaining was such a good idea again? “Did you think I was kidding earlier? When I said the next time I came it was going to be inside of you?”

Her lips pressed to the tip of his cock. “You didn’t specify where inside of me.” She moaned and without any warning sucked him into her mouth.

Dean hissed at the wet, pillowy texture of her beautiful mouth surrounding his pulsing, rock hard length. She took him in slow, humming in what sounded like gratitude to Dean’s ear. Her fingers wrapped and worked the stem. “Goddamn it, sweetheart.” He let out a low growl.

Her mouth and hands pulled back. “Dean. Look at me.” He groaned and dropped his head. Her lips were pink and full, eyes narrowed, palms resting on her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just, not as young as I used to be.”

“You’ve already said that.” She smiled and leaned into his fingers. “Neither am I. I think age provides some worthwhile experience.”

He sighed. “Oh, I agree. You’ve definitely got the experience part down.” Shit, that didn’t come out right. She didn’t seem to be paying his words much mind, with his cock in her face. “But, I let go now, don’t know how much good I’m going to be…” Her head tilted. She caught his thumb in her mouth, never breaking eye contact. One slow suck. “Damn.” Dean gulped.

“Do you want to let go?” She asked when she finished giving his digit attention.

He nodded.

“Then let go. One condition.” His cock twitched when her fingers held onto the base again. “You keep your eyes on me. And, I gotta hear that voice of yours, baby.”

He grinned as she moved closer to the tip, dripping with precum. “That’s two conditions.” He cradled the back of her head, fingers burrowing into her hair. “Lick my cock, sweetheart.”

She moaned, pressed her tongue to the tip, then swiped it over her lips. They glistened with his slick. Another long lick. “You’re going to cum so hard, aren’t you?” she asked in a low whisper.

There it is. That sexy as hell tone. “Yeah.” He grunted.

Pumping him now, using his excitement to lube him up, as she continued. “I’m gonna feel it, pulsing through this thick cock, right before you give me all of it.”

“Hm. Suck me, baby. I want to feel that nasty, sweet little mouth wrapped around me.” His fingertips dug into her scalp. She did what she was told. Lips slurped him down, mouth suctioned to his skin. The tongue swirled up at the tip before her mouth descended to swallow as much of his length as she could. Over and over. “Fuckin’ hell. That’s nice. Just like that. So fuckin’ good, baby.”

The moan in response vibrated into his cock. Her hands gripped his ass, using the leverage to push him into her mouth deeper. The position of her head and mouth maneuvered his cock like a lever. He could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged, took a second to regroup, then continued. When the tip eased down her throat the next time she swallowed in acceptance. Then again. Every damn time.

“Shit.” He groaned loud and pistoned his hips with her guidance. “Fucking your mouth feels so sweet. I can’t wait to fuck that pussy.”

More moans in agreement.

“I’m close, baby.”

Moaning.

“You ready?”

“Mm-hm.” One of Julie’s hands gripped the base.

“Fuck.” Dean moaned. His body tensed. All his energy shot straight to his cock. He felt his cum pulse through him, under her fingers. It spilled warm and thick into her mouth, wrapped tight around his tip. She moaned in surprise at the surge as it kept coming. She swallowed. Kept swallowing. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. “Fuckin’ hell.” He shivered at the insistence of her mouth, licking him clean, as he came down from the high. “I gotta…” He crumpled to the floor in an awkward position, the waistband of his jeans clamping his thighs together.

Her hands cupped his jaw. “Okay?”

His breathing was ragged. “Yeah… yeah. I’m good. That was…” He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. He moaned at the little lick she gave him and tasted the salt and tang of his release. “Was that okay for you?”

She grinned. “God, yes. You looked so hot when you came in my mouth. I broke you for a second. It was heaven.” She laughed.

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Of course, you helped by refraining for so damn long. Don’t do that to yourself again…” She raised a brow back, “unless I tell you to.”

Damn, she’s such a cute little dominatrix. His forehead melded against hers. “Deal. Can we go to bed and maybe rest for a bit? Give me a chance to recharge?”

“Yeah.” She hopped to her feet. Dean licked his lips at the way her tits bounced in the bra. Two outstretched arms flung to his aid. “Come on, old man.”

He frowned. “You aren’t that far behind me, you know?”

She shrugged. “Not ahead of you being the key takeaway, here, Dean.”    

He waved off the assistance. “I’ve got it.” He huffed and rolled toward the couch, his back to her. The cushions supported his hands. He bent both knees under him in the still wrapped at the thighs state and catapulted up. Very smooth. I just full-out mooned her.

He worked his jeans and underwear back up his waist, but not quick enough before Julie was able to assess, “Gymnastics are impressive. You have a great ass, by the way.”

He chuckled and tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart. You have great everythings.”

She blushed. After having gone down on and sucked him dry, she still blushed. His cock twitched. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed her a water.

“Bedroom’s this way.” He cocked his head to the small hallway. She took a sip and followed. He smiled at the fact she left her t-shirt on the couch. “If you need the bathroom,” he tapped on the door they passed to their left. A quick knob twist at the end of the hall opened the door to his bedroom. He snapped on a tiny table lamp and sat by the desk and cabinet his weapons were locked away in.

Her fingers tapped on the plastic bottle before placing it on the desk. She pulled out her phone and small wallet to rest beside it. “Pretty neat and tidy. Your army Dad teach you that?” She pointed to the sharp corners and tight sheet formation covering his bed. She pulled out the ponytail tie and dropped it on the desk, ran her fingers through the wavy mane to guide it behind her shoulders. Damn, she’s pretty. He licked his lips and watched the ends settle almost at the middle of her back.    

I really have told her a lot without telling her everything. His mind rushed back to the texts and calls they’d shared before the bad shit happened. And she remembers all of it. “It’s easy to keep things neat when you don’t have a lot.” He spread his legs, rubbing his thighs, trying to relax as the worry built. The hurried glances around the bedroom took stock of the scene. What might tip her off to the life he’d tried so hard to hide? He was always careful, at least he hoped, just in case.

Julie circled the room in her bare feet. The white bra shimmered in the barely lit space. Her hands burrowed into the shorts pockets. Shadows accentuated the curves of her bare skin. My own little Daisy Duke. He bit his lip, refraining from voicing the comment out loud. It might make her skittish and grab that forgotten t-shirt, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He watched her take in the sparse bits of the life he did put on display. There were the three tiny polaroids on the dresser, resting against a cigar box. The photos were worn, torn, tired, but had survived the long journey with him. One was his four year old self with mom wrapping him up in a tight hug. Another was of the Winchester family, John, Mary, Dean, and baby Sammy, in their front yard in Lawrence, Kansas. The last was of him and Sammy by the Impala almost two decades ago, when poltergeists, wendigos, and the occasional demonic possession had been the worst things they’d come across. Bobby had taken that picture.

There was the old 40s record player, one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from the Men of Letters bunker after the implosion. His small collection of classic rock albums housed upright in the shelf below it. An oil painting he’d found at a thrift store of a prairie field, reminding him of Kansas, hung over the simple wood headboard that he’d refinished himself. Her self directed tour stopped in front of him. Her fingers danced over the silver letter opener on the desk that did double duty as a supernatural weapon.

He tapped his lap and smiled up at her. She raised an eyebrow, an inner debate playing out on her face, then slid atop one of his thighs. An arm wrapped around the cool skin of her waist. “What do you think?” he asked.

Fingers rubbed the nape of his neck. “I think,” her brown eyes lingered on his smile, “I’d like to mess up that neatly made bed with you.”

He kissed her, nice and slow, eventually whispering, “Hop on in, little lady.”

Part 17

Series Page

[nujackcity]

A lot to think about

Warning: This post is a tad bit dark. I have had a lot of my mind and haven't wrote about it in months. Please prepare yourself, especially if you’re having a blessed day. 

So when I started this blog, I had every intention to write in it on a daily basis. I wanted to highlight my experience as a 27 year old, black woman in an interracial relationship in America! I wanted my older self to see my thought process, my journeys and my accomplishments....but lately I am feeling pretty much like most Americans...

Defeated. 

Lost. 

Afraid / Worried. 

Obsessed over what the future holds. 

These feelings have been exasperated by the growing concern of COVID-19, a slow-spreading virus that has consumed the lives of those globally. But my fears don’t stem from the presence or risk of death! Frankly, we we’re all be in that state of mind anyway considering no ones life has ever been guaranteed .....even if it’s easier to act like it is. Still its not like we need the daily reminder...but I am getting ahead of myself! 

I feel these feelings not because of the virus or because I recognize that I am currently and primarily dependent on my incredible support systems both financially and mentally and feel somewhat ashamed of my lack of independence. I feel those feelings because I recently learned (last month) that I am pregnant. And while I want so badly want to celebrate and CHEER and think about all the wonderful miracles that are soon to come, an over-thinker is never freed from their thoughts! So why? Why the feelings? 

Defeated - I’ve spent the last month and a half having little to no energy! I MEAN NONE! No energy to apply for jobs, no energy to reach out to my closest friends and most importantly and disappointingly, no energy to meet my basic needs (eating regular or enough meals, showering, cleaning, laundry etc.) Recently, my greatest joys have been limited to traveling away from the house, going outside to walk and breathe and recieving visits from my loved ones. Most days, I wait on my future spouse to help me fulfill those joys! It’s not that I need him by my side every waking hour, it’s more so that I’m afraid that my sense of loneliness will overwhelm the little pleasures I receive if I do it alone. The last two years, I trained my mind to obsess over everything that can go wrong instead of all the things that have gone right. I feel like there is an ominous power working against me. Some force fixated on making me feel like I need to have it all figured out in the next 9 months or I can’t have this baby. I need to increase my faith but am struggling to find healthy ways to do so. The feeling of defeat. It’s a motherfucker. 

Lost - Do I have control issues? I’ve grown up watching the adults in my life needing to have some kind of control over their life! It didn't take long before I developed the same need. It’s the way in which I feel stable. Lately, so many things have just felt soooo out of my control and it’s driving me absolutely insane. The most recent example is morning sickness. I’ve lost control over my own body. I throw up when I’m too full. I throw up when I haven’t eaten at all. I throw up just for the hell of it sometimes. I throw up without warning. I throw up about 1-2 times on average everyday. I throw up what feels like all the time and I haven't brought myself to figure out how to make myself feel better. It’s almost like I feel like I deserve to be sick as punishment for not accomplishing much....I should be making money for my family, I should be cooking lunch and dinner daily, I should be shopping for baby clothes, I should be exercising, I should not be spending a fourth of my day throwing up.....welp, I guess that answers that question. 

Afraid / Worried - Greatest fear of 2020: The baby won’t make it. I won’t make it. 

Obsessed over what the future holds - I’m either trapped reminiscing in the past or looking forward to the future. I can’t control changing the past so I obsess over the future. I rarely ever allow myself to live in the present. Why, because to me, that is the scariest option of all. What if the present does meet the expectations that I dreamt for myself in the future? In the future, anything is possible. I can have anything I want. I can be anything I want. The idealism of the future has never let me down. But people in the present have. I, in the present, have. 

I know I will be okay at the end of the day because my faith is placed in the hands of the lord! I have been so fortunate thus far from so many things that are not listed here. 

I am loved. I have food. I have shelter. I have so many amenities to make my life easier and I am able to talk to you now because I have a computer with internet access. For christ sakes, I am watching Grey’s Anatomy as we speak in the comfort of my own home with an empty bowl that was once filled with chicken noodle soup. But does that not make my thoughts any less relevant? All I ask of you is, if you are religious, pray that I am not consumed by my pessitimistic mindset and if you are not religious, please still keep me in your thoughts 😘

Everything will be just fine. 

[the-desolated-quill]

Rosa - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

It comes as a massive relief to say that I really enjoyed this episode. There are a number of ways Rosa could have gone wrong and while Chris Chibnall has managed to crank out two surprisingly good Doctor Who episodes so far, it’s hard to shake off old fears. Oh my God, I thought to myself, a historical episode about Rosa Parks and the Black Civil Rights Movement. Is Chibnall biting off more than he can chew? 

Thankfully Chibnall had the good sense to hire a co-writer that can keep his white privilege in check. Malorie Blackman. Author of the critically acclaimed Noughts and Crosses series of books depicting an alternative reality where Africans developed a technological advantage over Europeans and where white people are segregated under this world’s version of the Jim Crow laws. It’s safe to say that Blackman knows a thing or two about exploring racism and, being a black woman, she’s much more qualified to talk about issues of race and to represent Rosa Parks and the Civil Rights Movement as a whole than Chibnall is. The result is, without a shadow of a doubt, some of the best Doctor Who I’ve seen in years.

One thing I’m glad about is the way Rosa Parks is depicted. Historical stories (particularly New Who historical stories) have an unfortunate tendency to go completely over the top with it. It’s just not enough to have a character who played a significant part in human history. Oh no. They’ve also got to be the specialist, most important person in the whole wide universe. The result is that we’re often left with a wafer thin episode that completely romanticises the period of history the story is trying to depict, waters down all the more complicated and unsavoury parts of the historical setting and turns the famous historical figure into a shallow caricature of themselves (see Agatha Christie in Unicorn And The Wasp, Winston Churchill in Victory Of The Daleks and Vincent Van Gogh in Vincent And The Doctor). Rosa, thankfully, doesn’t fall into the same trap. Rosa Parks isn’t treated as a god among mortals. She’s treated like an ordinary person, thus making her actions that much more powerful.

Vinette Robinson (who appeared in a previous Chibnall penned story 42) does an incredible job playing Rosa Parks. Again, more emphasis is placed on how ordinary she is rather than how historically significant. Nowadays we of course view her as the genesis of the Black Civil Rights Movement and she has rightly been praised and immortalised for that, but it’s easy to forget that she was a real person behind the legacy, which is what the episode really delves into. We get to see her fear, sadness and frustration in this oppressive society. And it really brings home how mundane her actions really are. Sure we can see from hindsight how her actions would influence others and change the course of history, but she wasn’t some heroic freedom fighter taking a stand. She was a woman who just wanted to sit down on a bus after a hard day at work. And the fact that she, Martin Luther King and other black people actually had to fight for the right to do something so trivial is utterly ridiculous.

Some have criticised the episode saying that this is too heavy a subject matter to deal with at 7pm on a Sunday evening. I couldn’t disagree more. For one thing, this isn’t the first time Doctor Who has handled difficult subject matters (Nazism and genocide have frequently cropped up in past stories after all). But I think the criticism mostly stems from people (white people) being left feeling uncomfortable by the story and are trying to avoid having a serious conversation about it NRA style, claiming that this isn’t the right time for it. Well... when is it the right time? Nobody wants to have this conversation, sure, but we’ve still got to have it. And as uncomfortable viewing as it is, it’s important that it is not sugar-coated and that we’re reminded of how difficult things were for non-white people so that shit like this never happens again. So no, I didn’t think the use of violence against black people or racially charged language up to and including the n word were inappropriate. It was an accurate depiction of the environment at the time and if you felt uncomfortable by that, then congratulations, that’s precisely what you’re supposed to feel.

In fact I honestly thought the episode’s depiction of violence against black people was quite restrained, making the acts of discrimination that much more despicable in my eyes. Using gratuitous violence would have been a cheap shot and Chibnall and Blackman mercifully avoid that route. What makes the episode so chilling to watch isn’t the things that white people do, but rather the oppressive atmosphere they create. It’s not the arrogant tosspot slapping Ryan across the face for touching his wife’s glove that had me on edge. It was the scene after that where everyone is just silently staring at the TARDIS crew in the cafe that really made me feel queasy. The threat is implied, yet constant, which is infinitely scarier. After the likes of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss boasting about how their episodes were going to be ‘the scariest Doctor Who stories ever’ only for them to amount to a hodge-podge of tired horror cliches and a dumb monster going ‘boo’, it’s a relief to see writers take a more subtle ‘less is more’ approach. I’m sorry, but the bus driver glaring angrily at Rosa is much more terrifying than a Weeping Angel. Period.

Which brings me to Krasko, played with smug charm by Joshua Bowman who succeeds at making you want to reach through the screen and punch his racist face repeatedly. Again, some have criticised the episode for its ‘one dimensional villain’ and, again, it only seems to be white people making this criticism. Not to make sweeping generalisations here, but non-white fans seem to be largely happy with how Krasko was written and depicted, probably because they’ve had to deal with pricks like him at least once in their lives. I’m guessing the source of the criticism comes from him not having a backstory or concrete motivation other than he hates black people. But my response to that is... does he really need one? Would Krasko have really been a more interesting character if it was revealed that he was bullied in school or a black kid had stolen his My Little Pony lunchbox? Does there really need to be a reason for why he hates black people and wants to ‘put them in their place’? I would have thought him being a racist white person would have been enough reason to hate him frankly. Let’s not forget what happened when Star Wars and Marvel respectively gave their villains Kylo Ren and Kilgrave tragic backstories to provide context for their despicable actions, at which point the fans proceeded to romanticise the fuck out of them, calling them misunderstood. Maybe (and this is just my opinion) giving Krasko a backstory wouldn’t have made him more interesting, but instead would have been seen as an attempt to justify and excuse his shitty behaviour, and maybe, just maybe, we’re better off without one. Just a thought.

Besides, it’s not as if we don’t learn anything about Krasko. We’re given enough information to work with. He’s a time traveller from the future. He was put in prison for murdering two thousand people (quick side note, did anyone else laugh when the Doctor said the Stormcage was the most secure prison in the universe? Remind me, how many times did River Song break out again?). He’s clearly intelligent, as demonstrated by him coming up with a non-violent plan to ruin the lives of generations of non-white people in order to circumvent his neural inhibitors. While it’s never overtly mentioned, he’s clearly some future version of the alt-right and is there to act as an extension of the true villain of the story. Because that’s the thing the people criticising his character have overlooked. Krasko isn’t the villain. White people are. The society Rosa Parks lives in is the true villain. Krasko is there not just to get to the plot going, but also to subtly demonstrate that while things do get better for non-white citizens, there will always be that racist element within our society. Hell, Ryan and Yasmin even spell it out for you in their conversation whilst hiding from the police. While people like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King made a huge impact and helped change things for the better, racism and prejudice hasn’t just magically gone away. It’s still around. There are still people who cling on to these extremist and bigoted views. Some might argue that racism has become so entrenched in Western society that it will never fully go away. That there will always be some remnant hanging around. That’s what Krasko represents. So if you thought he was a rubbish villain because he had ‘no backstory or motivation’ then I’m afraid you’ve completely missed the point.

I should also applaud Chibnall and Blackman for resisting the urge to shove in some pointless alien like other historicals have. Not only would that have distracted from Rosa’s story, the racist white people are scary enough thank you very much. While there are sci-fi elements in here, the episode quite rightfully focuses on people.

Speaking of people, let’s talk about the TARDIS crew. Yeah! They’re in this episode too! Haven’t really talked about them much, have I? The Doctor largely takes a backseat in this one, which I know some people have a problem with, but I think it was the right thing to do. We don’t want an alien white woman coming in and stealing Rosa Parks’ glory. Jodie Whittaker graciously lets Vinette Robinson take centre stage while she busies herself with other things like confronting and intimidating Krasko and organising fake raffles with Frank Sinatra. I really like the balance they’ve struck between light and dark with this Doctor (something Moffat tried to do with Peter Capaldi’s Doctor and failed at miserably). She’s funny, compassionate and caring, but there’s a little bit of Sylvester McCoy’s devious cunning in there too, which really comes to the forefront here. Did anyone else find it really disconcerting seeing the Doctor try to maintain history? Influencing events so that Rosa Parks had no choice, but to give up (or refuse to give up) her seat. While we know she’s doing it for the right reasons, in order to keep black history in check, she’s still nonetheless actively contributing to Rosa’s misery, which is actually a clever way of exploring how white people all contribute to a racist status quo, directly, indirectly, intentionally and unintentionally. And of course it all culminates in the Doctor and co refusing to give up their seats in order to keep history intact. The look on Thirteen’s face as events unfold says it all. The look of sheer sadness and self loathing, knowing she played a part in this, is haunting. Same goes for Graham’s realisation. The widower of a black woman and step-grandfather to a black teenager being forced to contribute to this racist institution is utterly heartbreaking.

But the standout of the main cast has to be Ryan. Tosin Cole truly shines in this episode, giving an incredibly powerful and moving performance. This in many ways is his episode as he comes face to face with the racist prejudices of the time period and Cole rises to the occasion. My favourite scene has to be when Ryan talks with Rosa, thanking her for everything she will do in the future and promising that things will get better. It’s incredibly emotional and I actually started tearing up with him. I’m also so happy that he was the one that got to beat Krasko at the end rather than the Doctor. I stood up and cheered. And his reaction to seeing Martin Luther King has got to be one of the most charming moments of the series so far.

Rosa is unquestionably one of the strongest episodes in all of Doctor Who. It’s incredibly well written and performed and it’s extremely powerful as well as being very subtle and nuanced. What’s more, I’m now completely sold on Chris Chibnall being the showrunner. Any lingering doubts I’ve may have had are now completely evaporated after this episode. Rosa proves that not only does Chibnall respect and value diversity both in front of and behind the camera, but that he’s also committed to creating something truly special with his tenure, using the Doctor Who format to explore hard hitting and difficult subject matters with care and respect. Truly excellent television.

[zaeedmassanis]

stuck on believing

growing up on the streets of flooded new york, she never dreamed that she could ever have this.

or: five times aina shepard told garrus vakarian she loved him, and one time he told her.

read on ao3

Now is no time for a proper reunion. Not when the last thing she remembers is still the cold, dark eye of Alchera glimmering in the distance as dark spots cloud her vision, not when she’s got two Cerberus operatives at her back (and wouldn’t she rather have Garrus there instead, like old times) and glimmering red scars crisscrossing her skin. But nothing has ever been easy for her, so she supposes she can take it in stride.

That being said, she’s still loath to leave Garrus’ side, and she leaves Jacob with him to try to ease her mind. “I know you can take care of yourself,” she says lowly when he protests, “but just – let me have this? I can’t lose you.”

And he, bless him, still gets it after the two years she’s told she’s been dead. “Understood, Shepard,” he says crisply.

Before she can say anything else (and what is there to say, what can she possibly put into words), the first mercs come into view and she’s got other things on her mind for the time being.

If she can forget about Lawson and Taylor, it could almost be normal – Garrus above her, covering her back and yelling in her ear, the two of them hopelessly outnumbered but still doing their damnedest to stick it through. And the biotic glow from both the Cerberus operatives doesn’t hurt either – if she squints, it’s almost like Liara’s back with them again. Almost like nothing has changed.

She doesn’t have time to think about what’s changed, anyways, even in the breathers between waves when she can rush up to go check on Garrus (and it’s just – she needs him alive, of course, it’s definitely not that he’s the only grounding presence she has in this fuckup of a galaxy.)

They do all right, the four of them, the mercs barely able to take down their shields, let alone actually hit them. Shepard begins to believe that they might get out of here soon enough, and none the worse for wear. It’s probably the most hope she’s felt since she woke up in that lab with alarms blaring all around her.

But then she hears the gunship. It fires a barrage of shots on the upper floor of the building that, themselves, don’t seem to do much damage, but just when she thinks Garrus and Jacob are home free and she can go take out the gunship, she hears one more blast.

A gasp.

A gurgle.

“Garrus!” she screams. The deafening silence – even with the gunshots and biotic flares and the screaming – tells her all that she needs to know.

Suddenly full of rage, she storms up the stairs of the building and zeroes in on the gunship that took Garrus out. (She can’t look at the huddled lump near the couch, the spreading pool of dark, viscous blue blood, the smoking armour plate – not without breaking down herself, and she can’t have that. Not now of all times.)

And she unloads everything she’s got into that damned gunship, even if all that comes to is a submachine gun and a grenade launcher. But it does the job well enough, coupled with a few plasma rounds, and soon the gunship falls in a smouldering ruin.

And none too soon, either, as Garrus still isn’t moving. Shepard dashes over there as soon as she can, not even sparing a glance for the wreckage of the gunship and trusting the Cerberus operatives (and my, isn’t that a thought) to take out the rest of the stragglers.

She chokes out his name, a prayer or a sob (she doesn’t know) when he breathes. But the gurgle is there, the sound of blood that she knows will put him in even more danger if they can’t get him out of here fast enough. But she can’t let him know that. “We’re getting you out of here, Garrus. Just hold on. Radio Joker,” she orders, struggling to hold her voice steady. “Make sure they’re ready for us.”

Taylor says something, probably, but she can’t hear him, blood pounding in her ears as she tries to do something – anything – to stem the blood. “You’ve gotta pull through this, okay?” she says. “You and me, we’re in this together. No Shepard without Vakarian, come on!” But he’s not responding, mouth maybe working to try to form words (or maybe he’s just trying to cough the blood up, not that it would do much good and – Shepard, stop thinking like that, it doesn’t do anything for anyone involved–)

And Lawson says that it’s still going to be some time before Karin can get a medical team down in here, and – well, Shepard’s out of options. She needs to keep Garrus alive, needs him awake, needs – him.

“Garrus, goddamnit, you’re tougher than this, you can get through this, stay alive, I love you–” and she doesn’t even register half the words that come out through her senseless babble. All she knows is that he can’t die on her, not now, not like this, not ever.

“I want something to go right,” Garrus says, and Shepard wants to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. After all this time, how could he still not see what she saw so clearly, how well they already fit together and how they couldn’t hurt each other even if they tried?

But the pain in his eyes is so clear, so open, and – when did she get so good at reading him, when only a year ago (three years, her brain whispers) she would have been at a complete loss? And she can’t bear it, can’t stand to see him doubt, so she reaches up to touch his face, hoping that he might be able to read her the same way.

(It’s not an entirely unselfish gesture. She’s been dreaming about what his plates would feel like under her fingertips for what feels like ages.)

He leans into her touch, meeting her eyes, and – yes, he understands her perfectly. As he did at the beginning, as she thought they had lost with Sidonis, as they’ve found again. As they are found, in each other.

And her world narrows down to points of sensation, words falling out of her mouth and plates on her skin and Garrus, clear blue eyes boring right into her soul. They don’t fit together perfectly, but she wasn’t expecting them to. It’s enough for her to know that he wants her just as badly as she wants him, that he’s willing to try, that they can find some refuge in each other.

Garrus is a quick study, she finds to her delight, and her own curiosity helps break down any remaining barriers they may have between them. She’s fascinated by his body, by the dull shine of his plates and the way they interlock. And by the way he can’t stop touching her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, he feels the same.

When he slides into her, he tries to be gentle at first. And Shepard thinks it’s flattering, she really does, but – she’s not made of glass, and Garrus knows that. So she tells him as much.

“Are you sure, Shepard?” he says, mandibles fluttering. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she responds. “I know you won’t.” This might be all we get, she doesn’t say. I want whatever you can give me.

So he takes a deep breath and starts again, a relentless force that she can barely brace herself against. Her mouth closes in around the spot where neck meets cowl, where his skin gives just enough that her teeth can find purchase. She holds on as hard as she can, helpless against the rising tide, feeling him in every atom of her being.

“I think I love you,” she gasps into his hide, biting down as hard as she can. He’s too far gone to hear her say it, at least, but – would that be so bad, if he knew?

He spills into her, and all thought is driven out of her head.

They’re standing at the very top of the Presidium, and Shepard hears it’s supposed to be a good view –it’s definitely better than anything she saw growing up on flooded, overcrowded Earth at any rate – but her mind is still more on the man in front of her.

And he’s everything she’s ever wanted, and she’s not sure where she went wrong, to make him feel like she didn’t want to leap back into his arms the moment she saw him on Menae, but – this is a chance for her to fix that now, and by god she’s going to do it.

“Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?” he asks, and Shepard could laugh with how quintessentially Garrus that is.

“The only thing that made leaving Earth bearable was knowing you were out there somewhere,” she starts, and that’s the God-given truth for whatever value of god is out there.

Before she can continue, he responds, “I felt the same way. The worst part about the galaxy going to hell would’ve been never getting to see you again,” and – Shepard has never felt so cherished, so wanted as she does right now. Every neuron in her body is firing at high speed, and he’s not even touching her yet.

But he’s looking at her like she hung every moon in every sky, and that – that’s enough. Maybe even more.

The decision is so, so easy to make. Barely a decision at all, if she’s being honest – it was never even a question. “Well, here I am. Exactly where I want to be. I love you, Garrus Vakarian,” she says, and it’s still the scariest thing she’s ever done. She’s never said it before, not to anyone, not where they could hear her. No one had ever mattered as much, been as important, as this impossible, infuriating man in front of her.

And suddenly she understands why Garrus was so nervous in her cabin, all those months ago. She wants for this to go right so badly, wants to see what they can get up to without the constant threat of war hanging over their heads. She wants to go to sleep every night and wake up every morning for the rest of her life with him next to her.

He’s startled, like he didn’t expect her to actually say it, like he didn’t think she’d actually be in love with him. “Wow. The vids Joker gave me – well, they never got this far,” he says, and this time, Shepard can’t stifle her laugh. But Garrus forges on anyways, mandibles twitching in nervousness. “There was the part about sleeping together, but this–”

Shepard doesn’t want to torment him any longer. Anyway, it’s been so long since he kissed her, and she’s beyond due for another. So she leans in and shuts him up.

Growing up on the streets of New York, she never could have dreamed she’d get here one day, here on top of the Presidium with someone she loves, who she knows loves her. And maybe the galaxy is still falling to pieces around them, and she’s still the only one responsible for putting them back together, but this, here, is her happiness.

She’s still breathing heavily when the crowd finally disperses and they make their way back over to the bar. At a signal from Garrus, the bartender sets a copper mug in front of her – a welcome respite from all the krogan and batarian alcohol she’s been drinking lately. “How’d you know I like a good Moscow mule?” she asks, taking a long swig.

Garrus shrugs. “You may have said something about it once,” he responds, taking a much smaller sip from his own glass.

“Mmm,” she hums, conceding the point. And they sit there in companionable silence for a few moments, just resting in the other’s company, and it’s – it’s nice, to slow down and to just. Have this.

Then a thought occurs to her, and she says, reaching for his hand, “And, Garrus? For the record, you were right about your voice.”

“Is that so?” he rumbles, amused. “This voice, huh?”

She laughs despite herself. “You could get any girl you wanted with that voice alone. But you’re not going to use it on anyone besides me.”

“I’m not,” he agrees.

Shepard feels lighter already. “So, what do you say to getting out of here?” she asks, draining the last of her drink.

He’s up before she is, offering her his arm as they walk out of the casino. With every step they take, it’s harder and harder for Shepard to (mostly) keep her hands to herself. Garrus cuts such a fine figure in his suit (better than she could ever in a dress, probably) and Shepard isn’t a weak woman, exactly, but she’s weak for this, for him. Nevertheless, she tries to keep her cool.

The moment they step into the elevator up to her floor, however, all bets are off. As the doors hiss shut, Shepard reaches for Garrus, pulling him into a deep kiss that leaves them both panting. “What’s that all about?” he asks, feigning ignorance.

Shepard isn’t having any of it. “You know what you do to me, Vakarian.”

His mandibles flare outward in a smile. “Oh, I know what I’m going to do to you tonight, that’s for sure.”

So they don’t exactly make it to a bed.

At least not for the first round.

By the time they’re finally done, however, they’re nestled together in her bed, up in her room, and Shepard doesn’t think she’s ever been happier, even if the universe is falling to pieces outside these four walls.

Now that she thinks about it, she’s probably been in love with Garrus since the moment she laid eyes on him. Not that she’d ever say that to his face, of course. His ego doesn’t need any more stroking. But here, in this rare moment of peace when she’s lying in his arms (and they don’t fit together perfectly but god, it’s still like they were made for each other), she lets herself think it.

“Something on your mind?” Garrus rumbles, chest pressed close to her back.

“Mmm,” she hums noncommittally, snuggling backward and seeking more of his warmth. “You.”

“I should hope so,” he says, but he chuckles nonetheless. “Wouldn’t want you to be thinking about anything else right now.”

Shepard smiles, eyes slipping shut. God, she loves him.

“I love you too, Shepard,” he murmurs into her neck, and – oh, she had said that out loud. And it still feels so new, to just say things like that, to open up instead of hiding, and Shepard’s suddenly struck with the need to make sure Garrus knows exactly what he means to her.

So she tells him, with her lips and hands and body, over and over again until she knows it's all he can think about.

Of course she’d bring him with her here at the end of all things. Even though what he had said back at the base had sounded like a goodbye, there was no way Shepard was going to finish this without Garrus at her side.

And they’re doing so well at first, even with three goddamn banshees converging on the burnt-out husk of this convenience store. The ruins of London around her are sobering, as is the constant struggle to just heave a full breath of oxygen, but they’re still alive and she thinks that, just maybe, they can do this.

But then they start to feel the pressure. Shepard’s keeping an eye on the missile bank, making sure no Reaper forces get anywhere near it, when a tell-tale alarm sounds. Her shields are all but gone.

She swings around wildly, trying to find whoever it is that’s shooting at her, but to no avail. It’s too dark, too chaotic. Shots ricochet off the aged stone and the shouts of soldiers fill her ears.

Something punches through her armour then, a sharp, burning pain spreading through her shoulder. She yells, once, instinctively ducking behind whatever-it-is she’s in front of, before she hears the loud boom of a firing Widow.

Garrus dashes to her side, rifle still in hand. “You good?”

“I am now,” she says as the medi-gel kicks in. “Thanks for that. Where was it?”

Garrus jerks his head to the left. “Over there, behind some rubble. Dead now, though.”

“Good.” She slams another heat sink into her Predator and pokes her head around what appears to be the remnants of a wall, firing at the seemingly endless waves of Reaper forces. “Where’s Javik?”

“Right behind you,” Javik calls from a few feet behind them. “You need to get to the missile bank!”

“Working on it!” she yells, taking out a cannibal with a few well-placed shots, looking for an opening. “Come on, come on, come on–”

“Commander!” EDI says. “The destroyer is in range! The missiles are ready for launch.”

Shepard nods reflexively. “On it,” she responds.

It takes a few more heart-stopping moments (and a close encounter of the brute kind) but she makes it over there, slamming the button before diving back into cover. She can’t afford to watch the missiles find their way into the core of the destroyer, not when there are still enemies everywhere and her shields seem to be gone more often than not.

But then the sky fills with fire and an earth-shattering boom. Shepard wastes no time staring at the spectacle, taking out another cannibal when EDI says, “Destroyer terminated.”

“Nice work, EDI,” she says. And then Anderson and his convoy slowly pick their way across the fields of rubble to their location, and after a hasty conference, they’re off and running to the Conduit.

Shepard sees a Mako launch towards her, ducking out of the way just in time. But when she looks back, she sees that Garrus and EDI are both crumpled on the ground, barely moving.

She rushes over to them, helping Garrus up to take cover behind the Mako. EDI’s smoking, her movements stilted, and Garrus is wincing with pain with every movement. They can’t stay here.

“Normandy! Do you copy?” she all but screams into her comm. “I need an evac! Right now!” Garrus looks at her askance, but she ignores him in favour of talking to Joker. He’d talk her into leaving him here with her otherwise, and – well, that’s a death sentence she can’t accept.

The Normandy appears just in time, and the three of them run to its loading bay just as the Mako explodes behind them. Shepard hears the growling of yet more Reaper forces behind them, but her crew provides some covering fire as EDI rushes into the loading bay.

Garrus, however, is having more trouble moving. Carefully guiding him onto the ramp, Shepard shouts, “Here! Take him!”

He’s not having it. “Shepard–”

But she won’t let him. She can’t – if he has any chance of living, he needs to go, now. “You gotta get out of here,” she says, cutting him off.

“And you’ve got to be kidding me,” he says, obstinate as always.

Any other time, she’d reconsider. But not now. “Don’t argue, Garrus.”

“We’re in this till the end,” Garrus insists. Don’t go where I can’t follow, his subvocals say.

But there’s no arguing the point. Shepard’s doing this for him. And he needs to know that, needs to know that – if there was any other way –

She steps forward. “No matter what happens here, you know I love you.” Cupping his mandible, leaning in as close as she dares, she adds, “Always will.”

He leans into her touch, and she wishes she could feel his plates through her gloves, give him more than just this shoddy approximation of a tender caress, but there’s no time. “Shepard, I – love you too,” he says, every breath a new wound.

She knows she can’t linger any longer, but pulling away from Garrus is the hardest thing she’s ever done. And she won’t let herself look back at him, even if it’s – it’s the last time she’ll ever see him, because if she meets his eyes again she doesn’t know how she’ll will herself to let go a second time.

So she doesn’t see his lips move in silent prayer as he stares after her, arm still outstretched, begging any spirit who’s listening to keep her safe.

He got here as fast as he could. It still took a week for them to finish the Normandy repairs and get off that bloody planet, but he’s here in London now and Shepard is alive.

For whatever value of life she has right now. Garrus pauses in the doorway of her hospital room – the least damaged in all of London – even though every bone in his body wants to rush to her, to hold her and never let go. But she looks so fragile, like never before, asleep like some human fairy tale and not the living legend she is, and he’s terrified that he’s going to break her even more, somehow.

And it’s – it’s so hard, seeing her lying there on the hospital bed, swallowed by the sheets and looking so, so small. For as long as he had known her, Shepard had been larger than life, a force of nature sweet-talking everyone in her way and barrelling through them if they still refused to step aside.

But her injuries aren’t something she can just persuade to fall in line. Miranda had given him the lowdown when she had walked him to Shepard’s room, and. Well. Garrus doesn’t doubt that she can get through this, what with the sheer amount of cybernetics (old and new) forcing her to live.

That doesn’t mean that he’s still not absolutely fucking terrified, though. She’s been in a coma since they found her, Miranda had said, and – she wouldn’t want to live like this forever, Garrus knows that. But he doesn’t want to – he can’t – picture a life without her, years stretching on into infinity in a universe without Commander Shepard.

“I’m here,” he says, settling in the chair next to her bed and taking her hand. “I’m here, you’re safe, we won, I love you, please, please wake up.”

And he doesn’t know that he’s echoing history, the universe’s cruel joke reverberating through the past year back to Omega and another medbay on the opposite side of the galaxy. All he knows is here, now, Shepard hurts and he’s powerless to stop it.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, clutching her hand like it’s a lifeline and he’s the drowning man instead of the other way around. All he knows is that, when she wakes up, he’ll be here for her. Like he always is.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #131

“demolition woman, can i be your man?”

Do you know if you were a planned child? I've no clue. What's your favorite gem? Mexican dragon's breath opal. Do you like Oregon Trail?  I loved that game.  Although I only won like maybe once or twice lmao. As an adult, do you want to live in an apartment or house?  I wouldn't mind an apartment if it was just a starting point, but once my spouse and I were financially stable, I'd definitely want our own place. Do you like the stem or leafy part of the broccoli?  Steam. Do you believe in the "innocent until proven guilty" idea?  As far as imprisoning someone goes, yes, I believe you shouldn't be put away until there is substantial evidence you are indeed guilty.  This sadly doesn't get all criminals, but I think just saying "this guy is guilty because I say so" is far more dangerous and more people would see jail time. Do bats frighten you?  No no no, they're high on my list of favorite animals, especially flying foxes. <3 Does Paris appeal to you? I'd loooove to visit! What’s the song that reminds you of your special someone?  I think maybe above all, the acoustic version of "If You're James Dean, I'm Audrey Hepburn" by Sleeping With Sirens <3 Are you a KPOP fan? No. Who is the 6th person in your contacts?  My friend Jax. Do you believe in the phrase "If it’s meant to be, it will be"? Honestly... I don't think so.  You can't tell me a young child dying from a disease is "meant to be." How long was your longest relationship?  Three years and seven or eight months.  Considering it was a legitimate trauma, I'm very surprised I don't remember the exact date we broke up... I just know it was August or September. First time you kissed the last person you kissed?  We haven't kissed on the lips yet, but the first time I kissed her cheek was because she was crying. Do you have to really know someone to kiss them?  Me personally, I think you should love someone before kissing.  S/os, family, friends... Were you anyone's first kiss?  No. Will you keep your last name when you get married?  If I marry a man, no, but if I marry a girl, depends.  If I marry my current girlfriend, nope. Which would be more meaningful to you: I love you a lot, I love you so much? The latter. Where was the last place you held hands at?  In a car. If you could live in any home on television, what would it be?  The Munsters' house. <3 If you had to be named after one of the 50 states of America, what state would you WANT to be named after?  Dakota. What is your heritage?  I know mostly German, Irish, and a bit of Polish, but I think that's only Mom's heritage, I think.  I wonder if Dad has Scottish roots because our last name is Scottish. Do you think morals are universal or relative to the beliefs, traditions, and practices of individuals or groups?  Universal. Is torture ever a good option? If no, why not? If yes, when?  No.  It's just... excessive to me.  Even criminals, just kill them quickly. What do you think is one of the most undervalued professions right now? Teaching. Have you ever seen anyone have a heart attack?  NO THANK GOD. Have you personalized your answering machine/voicemail? No. Have you ever had Fiji brand water?  No. What’s your favorite horror movie?  The Crazies, The Blair Witch Project, and The Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows. Would you say you have a high sexdrive or not so much?  It's normal, I guess? What animal is the scariest in your opinion?  Hmmm... I'll put animal phobias aside and acknowledge those with legitimate danger.  Probably African killer bees.  Fucking terrifying. How do you feel about people wearing fur coats? are you for or against it?  I am completely against that shit unless you're like an Eskimo and need to wear animal coats for survival. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you?  Preach me the "pick yourself up by your boot strings" mentality while I was fucking suicidally depressed. What’s your favorite memory with one or both of your parents?  Ha ha oh boy, this question just made me remember this...  With Mom, it was probably that one time we drove to Chick-fil-a at night, got some milkshakes, and rocked out hardcore to Judas Priest.  A lot of laughs...  As for Dad, hm.  Probably childhood fishing trips. Something you feared as a kid but don’t anymore?  Uhhh... unsure?  Well, my phobia of dolls isn't as bad as it was when I was a kid. What’s your opinion on girls who become obsessed with their boyfriends?  DO NOT DO IT, but I understand it much too well. Are you biracial?  No. What was the most unique pet you’ve owned?  Probably my champagne ball python I have now. Do you have a fence?  In the backyard. When was the last time you got mad and broke something? I've never done that, but I've come close. How long do you think you will live?  I don't know the average life span of my family, but maybe like... early 80s?  Idk.  I don't WANT to live past the point where I can't care for myself. Favorite nonliving musician?  Uhhhhh... probably Ronnie James Dio. <3  WAIT NO.  FREDDIE MERCURY. Favorite album? "Black Rain" by Ozzy Osbourne.  Introduced me to metal. What color dress did you wear to prom?  Sophomore year was maroon, senior year was black Ever have an ultra-sound performed on you? What was it for?  Yes, on my liver.  Apparently nothing was wrong. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? Only my dad. Does your family use coasters? Is anyone in your family excessively tidy? Nope. Do you still have your tonsils?  Yeah. Do you think making out is slutty?  No...? Do you have any traits that you obviously inherited from your parents? I pace like my dad. Have you ever hit your significant other or ex-significant other? Has he/she ever hit you?  No to both. Would you say that you have a nice smile?  No, I will without fail look high. Do you get motion sickness?  Never have. Are men more attractive with longer or shorter hair?  Long. *swoons* Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet?  No, they are not meant to be pets.  I have an acquaintance in the U.K. who has two and they're perfectly loved, but it's just not right for them.  They in general are very destructive pets, too. If you had the power to end the world right now, would you? No. Have you ever been in an ambulance? No Have you ever had the flu? Thank goodness, no. What's worse: Depression or anxiety? My answer hasn't changed: "WOW that's a hard question. But. Depression. Because imo it's easier to become suicidal when depressed. And I'd rather be afraid than wanting to die." Have you ever made out with someone you weren’t dating? No. What’s one of the most difficult things you’ve ever had to do?  Get myself to see holding onto Jason was the most detrimental thing I'd done in my life thus far. If you were reincarnated as a sea creature, what would you want to be? A bottle-nosed dolphin. What is the wallpaper of your cell phone?  My lock screen is Sara and me, and my home screen is Markiplier. What's your favorite high school memory? Art class with three friends. Should ANY country be allowed to have WMDs?  N o. Should schools give out condoms?  No. Should all people have access to medical marijuana?  All people, no.  I have mixed emotions on anyone having medical marijuana. Ever considered cannibalism?  No. o_o When’s the next time you will consume alcohol?  *shrugs* Do you address older people by their first or last name?  It depends on the person and what they prefer.  When I first meet the person and I know their last name however, I'll use Mrs./Ms./Mr. Whatever. What is your guilty pleasure (make it SFW)?  Markiplier in dresses kms. Do you want children/how many? At the time I'm taking this, I'm questioning if I do, but I HIGHLY doubt it.  I would NOT want more than two.  Maybe even just one. You find out your wonderful one-year-old child is not yours because of a mix-up at the hospital. Would you exchange for your own?  Yeah, honestly.  One year old is still young. Are you a good kisser?  Idk? Ever made out in the bathroom?  No like that sounds so uncomfortable and unsanitary. On the floor?  @_@ Who was the hottest teacher you ever had?  Omfg so I had a band teacher that all the girls were crazy for, but then a good number of years back, he got charged for sexual relations with a student o o p s. When's the last time you've been sledding?  E o n s ago.

[ramajmedia]

5 Ways Supernatural Has Aged Poorly (And 5 Ways It's Timeless)

Supernatural, the tale of two brothers in the "family business" of saving the world from monsters and mayhem, soon will enter its final season. Over the 14 Seasons, we have grown attached to the brothers (Dean and Sam), their allies, and their journeys. Although the storylines grew complicated, the heart of the show, the brothers, kept it grounded.

RELATED: Supernatural 5 Best Friendships (And 5 Worst) 

We are fans of the show and see a lot that is timeless about it; however, there are also things that didn't age well.

10 Aged Poorly: Dean's Tricks with Women

Lovable Dean has some not so lovable habits. He frequently pretends to be someone else (like a talent agent) in order to have romantic encounters with women. In the show, this represented his maverick, playful, and carefree nature, but it also reads as manipulation. When we re-watch early seasons of Dean, these "exploits" make us cringe.

The romances he had when he was honest or semi-honest did have consent and were examples of healthy sexuality. It is the others that are hard to watch today.

9 Timeless: The Ingenuity, Skill-building

Throughout the seasons, Dean and Sam invent tools and gather knowledge. At times, tools are created by them, such as Dean filling guns with rock salt. Other times, they learned to make tools from a friend or foe, such as when Sam learned to make the hex bags from Ruby.

We see both brothers learning new skills and also sharing them with others. This exploration is timeless and intriguing. It builds a thorough landscape of knowledge.

8 Aged Poorly: Sam Kills Dean's Daughter

In Season 7, Dean has a one night stand with Lydia, a woman who is an Amazon. Within a few days, the baby grows to be a young woman.  Emma (Lydia and Dean's baby) becomes a sixteen-year-old girl. As part of her initiation, she has to kill her father, chop off his feet and hands for the other Amazons, and prove that she is a warrior.

Dean isn't like the other fathers in that he actually liked Lydia and accidentally left a belonging at her house that he needed to retrieve, meaning that baby Emma met him. In addition, the episode teases that Emma may not be like the rest of young Amazons since she hesitated in eating the father flesh and she feels more pain when she's branded. When she goes to kill Dean, he wants to believe that she's different, that she can walk away. Sam rushes into the room and without much hesitation, kills her.

Even if Emma couldn't have been saved, Sam's conversation to Dean also doesn't age well. Rather than sympathizing about the death of Dean's daughter or acknowledging that he feels the weight of having to kill his niece, Sam chides Dean for not having the strength to do it.

7 Timeless: Meta Moments

Supernatural does a good job in poking fun at itself, and much of this is done through meta moments where the show is aware of itself. An example of this is when Sam and Dean fall into an alternative universe that so happens to be the Supernatural TV set where everyone is calling them by the actors' names. While there they find out that there are many of their cars, that they wear make-up, and that actor Sam married the actress that played Ruby (true).

Related: Supernatural 10 Biggest Twists, Ranked

We have other meta moments like when Sam and Dean walk into a high school musical that is about their lives. The actors in the musical are all from a girls' school and the play is fanfiction to Supernatural. In another one, they fall into a Scooby-Doo episode. While we love the scary moments and monsters, the meta moments are what helps make supernatural truly unique and timeless.

6 Aged Poorly: Red Shirt Curse

The term, "red shirt curse" comes from observations about old Star Trek episodes where partial characters who wore the red shirt uniform were expendable and often died.

The hunters that pair up with Sam and Dean, as well as other allies and romantic interests, are often victim to the red shirt curse. Next to our two heroes, they are expendable. Occasionally, we do get to know the characters, like Jo, but others, such as all the hunters Mary killed when she was brainwashed, were purely expendable. The show easily killed off those close to the main family. In addition, the side characters' lives seemed to be primarily about our main characters.

5 Timeless: Reluctant Hero/The Hero's Journey

Often in myths and legends, there exists the reluctant hero character. They receive their calling, hesitate to begin, decide to embrace it, are faced with obstacles, and then overcome those obstacles. Apart from mythology, we see this in television shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy tries to reject her calling, but then she fully accepts it. We also see this in Supernatural where Sam rejects the family business, hesitates to be part of it again, and then later embraces it. Sam represents a classic journey tale that is both old and timeless.

4 Aged Poorly: Taking Away Lisa's Decision

After Sam went into the cage, Dean tried to fulfill his promise to Sam by living a normal life. He sought out Lisa, his previous romantic interest, and became a father figure to Ben, Lisa's son. Lisa and Ben took in a broken Dean, grieving Sam. Dean was honest with them about his past, and they accepted him. However, after Sam comes back (soulless) and other family members, both Lisa and Ben are put in danger.

Dean gets them to safety, and Lisa asks no questions because she trusts him and understands his previous line of work. Afterwards, in order to protect them, he asks Cas to remove their memories of him and their life together. This is an overreach and didn't give Lisa the chance to make a decision about what she wanted to do. It was clear that both Lisa and Ben loved Dean. Even if their decision were to not stay connected to Dean, at least they could've had the memories.

3 Timeless: The Lore, Mythology, and Monsters

Supernatural used real lore when they featured creatures like the djinn. They used well-known ghost stories like Bloody Mary and The Woman in White. In addition, they created their own mythology and monsters like when they had the Winchesters serve as the perfect vessels for the angels, Lucifer and Michael.

RELATED: Supernatural 10 Scariest Monsters, Ranked 

This weaving between well-known stories and lore as well as mythology invented for the show created a tapestry of timelessness. In addition, the show explores common fears people have like the fear of clowns demonstrated by Sam.

2 Aged Poorly: Representation of Non-Western and Pagan Deities

In Season 5, a group of deities holds a meeting in a hotel. The trickster, angel Gabriel, wants to save Kali, a goddess and former girlfriend. He fears that the deities will get in the middle of Lucifer and Michael's fight, resulting in their deaths. By the way he discusses it, the deities that are non-Western or pagan have little strength and power compared to the two angels (who aren't even gods). This easy dismissal undermines each deity's ability and importance. This was an opportunity for the show to delve more into other cultures, supernatural creatures, and representations of divinity, and they didn't.

1 Timeless: Brother Bond/Family Bond

At the core of the show is the deep love and loyalty between brothers. This is the heart that keeps the show going and makes it timeless. In addition, we see how this connection between the brothers stems from the love that they experienced from their parents. Of course, shared trauma also connects them. For other characters, the biggest compliment that Dean and Sam can give them is to call them family. The lucky few become that to Sam and Dean. Once they are family, both Sam and Dean will do about anything for them. This loyalty and love is truly timeless.

NEXT: Best Urban Legends of Supernatural

source https://screenrant.com/supernatural-aged-poorly-timeless/

[vickyelizabethgalan]

Top 5 Disney Villains

Hey everyone!

So, aside from being a lover of movies, I’m completely obsessed with Disney as well. I could literally talk about the subject for hours– and there is a lot of material to discuss. I figured today I would talk about a controversial topic among many Disney fans: the best Disney villain. I’ve subconsciously placed these villains from least to most evil on this personal list.  

Wicked Witch/Queen Grimhilde (Snow White and the Seven Dwarves): The OG bad guy from the first feature length animated movie, the Evil Queen always gave me the creeps. Her transformation scene is legendary and Lucille La Verne’s voice change when the character turns into the old hag is chilling. The reason I put her as first on my list is because of the complexity I find in this character. What freaks me out most about the Evil Queen are her delusions of vanity that are easily demonstrated through the lengths she goes through to destroy her foe. Filled with hatred upon seeing that Snow White has taken away her title of “fairest in the land”, the Queen is willing to take away what she holds most prized, her beauty, to bring about Snow White’s death. So, in wanting to regain her place as the fairest, she goes out of the way to show her ugly, true colors. This movie brings about the realization that: to see competition gone, many people would do the same. The Queen is a cautionary tale about egotism and hate. 

Wicked Stepmother/Lady Tremaine (Cinderella): Probably the villain I hate the most, this woman basically enslaves young Ella, changes her name to a derogatory Cinder-ella and makes her life a general hell-hole. She wants nothing more than for her own daughters to succeed, become rich, and for one– or both, seeing as she’s not above that– of them to marry the Prince. To the Stepmother, Cinderella is in the way, probably because she recognizes the pure girl’s potential, which makes her competition for the woman’s snooty daughters. Then again, anything with a pulse could be competition for the two stepsisters, and stand a much higher chance than them, too. There’s a part of Lady Tremaine that knows this, and it can be argued that her absolute hate for Ella is pure, green-colored envy rooted in her own massive insecurity over her own daughters. Even when she speaks, Eleanor Audley magnificently sneers her way through the role and makes every thing about the abusive and wicked character despicable. 

Gaston (Beauty & the Beast): “Nooooo oneeeeee…freaks me out like Gaston, represents toxic masculinity like Gaston”. Gaston is an extremely scary guy and his power within the town is, to me, what makes him most dangerous. Here we have this conceited, notorious hunter who is worshipped by the entire village, and he won’t stop harassing Belle, the one character who remains indifferent to his “charm”. Because he’s seen as such an idol by the people, Belle is the one shamed for not gratifying his advances. Knowing this, Belle still speaks to Gaston the way she does, making her an even more brave and admirable character in my eyes. 

Gaston was originally based off of screenwriter Linda Woolverton’s ex-boyfriend. Narcissism, misogynistic comments, a possessive attitude, Woolverton spared no ‘douchey’ details, creating Gaston with nasty traits that are sadly perceived by townspeople as burly appeal. The scariest thing about Gaston is the relatability factor. Everyone has met some “Gaston” in their life, everyone has had to deal with that overbearing tough guy who makes you feel uncomfortable, who makes you feel like you “owe” them something. Gaston is a representation of that domineering, macho terrorist that turns things against you, making him the unfortunately-relatable villain we’ve all personally faced.

Man (Bambi): We have now reached a persona many consider to be the worst Disney villain. So bad he doesn’t even have a name, the Disney baddie is MAN. Unseen and described as merciless and ruthless, this classified poacher– since it is illegal to shoot doves or fawns in many parts of the United States– is not only responsible for the death of Bambi’s mom (often referred as the saddest Disney moment, competing with Mufasa’s death) but also for killing many other deer and starting a forest fire which destroys a lot of the area. The reason many people consider Man to be so evil is because of the depth that is Man representing us and the dangers we bring to nature and the ecosystem. We are our own villain in this case, striking fear into many innocent creatures. We watch Bambi and grow to love the purity of this white-tailed deer and how he lives. The movie allows us to feel close to the young Prince before his world is destroyed, so we can empathize with animals and the situation MAN(kind) is responsible for.

Frollo (Hunchback of Notre Dame): We have gotten to the Disney villain I consider most evil. Maybe you don’t find him so scary or impressionable, compared to other villains with beadier eyes and spookier smirks, but I’ll tell you why Judge Claude Frollo is, by far, the most evil. This is a man who, in the original story by Victor Hugo, is a religious man. Frollo threatens murder and rape, kills an innocent gypsy woman and basically enslaves Quasimodo, making him the bell ringer of Notre Dame for the entirety of his life. 

Now, we aren’t talking about the original version, but the Disney version didn’t help Frollo look any better. 

In an attempt to avoid a negative reaction from the religious community, Disney made Frollo a judge. This was not a much better decision because, if anything, it only gave light to a fear: no matter what role you assign him, Frollo is a hypocrite. In other villain’s cases, they are the way they are due to their position; in Frollo’s case, his evil stems purely from his own self. He is a murderous, conniving hypocrite whether you paint him as a clergyman, a judge, a street beggar, a librarian. Before the public, Frollo feigns a life of morality and religious zealous, since he is supposed to be the “trusty” figure people confide in, whether a priest or judge. Behind the scenes, he actually exhibits an extreme hate for a minority, referring to them as ants who need to be exterminated! This is a man you would go before to confess a sin or a crime, to let him judge your life– and here he is is dreaming of murder and threatening to rape Esmeralda and/or burn her at the stake. Either way you spin him, this is a very confused, malicious man who does not deserve to be in either position, religious or legal. This is why, to me, he is the worst of the Disney baddies.

There you have it! My Top 5 Disney villains. Let me know which villain(s) you deem baddest! And let me know if you’d love for me to make another Disney list! Thanks for reading!

[surpringlynotarobot-blog]

Had to delete my squarespace so putting posts here

FEAR

I once heard that suicide is the last solace. This morning, struggling to get out of bed, I held the concept in my mind's hands, played with it, but deep inside I knew that my courage was not nearly as strong to do the deed. Whenever I hear about some artist or celebrity committing suicide, instead of disdain, I feel respect. There is a part of me that believes that humans are some sort of mutation that wasn't supposed to happen. Why are we so different from other animals?

Last night, I spent hours reading about a child sexual abuse case from Belgium. The Doulleux dosier or something.

It was strange that I couldn't stop reading, even if some parts made me feel sick. I couldn't imagine being the victim or perpetrator in this case. At the same time, I was repulsed by my own desire to keep reading. It's like watching a car crash. I think people find pleasure from violence and aberration. By pleasure, I don't mean the normal sense. More like the one that keeps you watching like a horror film or the news coverage of Jon Benet Ramsey's kidnapping and murder. Deep inside there is some sort of dopamine releasing that causes the people to continue watching the car crash and the stories on the news about bombs in New York. Or maybe it's adrenaline. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that people hide the things they want to hide because they think it's wrong and they amplify the things that make them look good. Society.

Stuff like this makes me feel like I can't talk to anybody. We have all this stupid shit we keep inside. I guess certain things are known but people just don't talk about them. I've always been an open person but I feel this darkness presiding over my thoughts, mostly because there's no one I can talk to them about. Fear of being a pedophile (POCD), Fear of being gay (OCD), fear of death. Fear of people. Fear of living. I don't know if I can take much more of this. Everything is so hard. I need to stop watching porn because it gives me these fucked up perceptions about sex. Hanging out with my cousin yesterday, I had a hard time looking at her in the eye because I was thinking about all the porn I was watching the night before and how embarrassed I would be if she knew.

This then goes to my belief that everyone has to know everything about me, like I owe them that somehow. Like I need their approval over my own. Maybe this is the lesson Corey taught me. Do I approve of myself? At the moment, I don't think that I do. I feel tainted and broken. Maybe because of the HPV and my past. The broken hearts.

Maybe I should stop trying to control my fears and just embrace the fear that comes, not knowing if more fear will come, maybe it will not come, but stop trying to control it.

SNOW WHITE AND THE WICKED STEPMOTHER

I will preface this by stating that Snow White, as it was originally written, did not have an evil Stepmother, but just a regular mother. This fact brings into theme the jealousy that is often felt by mothers towards their daughters.

Ideas like this, which are universal are rarely spoken about because it makes people uncomfortable. Our very natures are often the very things that cause us discomfort. This universal truth (the denied nature) is depicted in the enduring myth referenced in Genesis where Adam and Eve consume the apple at the discretion of the Serpent, and subsequently cover themselves in order to hide their nakedness. Animals(but not humans) feel no shame for their nature (unless conditioned to). I believe that humans are also conditioned to feel shame. They are taught what is good and evil based on their own experiences with the themes. Thus, I believe that the act of original sin is not a root event happening once in humanity, but happening in every life. The capability of learning Good and Evil, an aspect of the brain, is shown through the metaphor of the forbidden fruit.

How did we disobey God? The metaphor implies that it was from the development of the modern brain. Perhaps the disobedience comes from coveting something forbidden, or coveting in general, which is perhaps the building block of civilization itself. In order to obtain many good and land and wives, one must have a well developed brain. As the brain develops so does civilization and vice versa.

Back to the whole point of this post. Today I was joking around with my dad, which is rare for us. He tends to be withdrawn unless drunk. I was picking up Peanut and using her to kick him. I'm laughing and he's not complaining, but I look at my mom and she doesn't look pleased but slightly uncomfortable. Actually this is her usual reaction when my dad and I are getting along. I don't know if it's because she feels left out or jealous but she is never happy with the pleasantries between us. I wonder if she's afraid that my dad and I would develop a sexual relationship (even typing this makes me feel weird and uncomfortable). I've heard her telling stories of how she was drugged and raped by her uncles and then even have a forced medicinally induced abortion. All of this sounds so absurd but it is real. But talking about it does help me process the situation. Humans are born through violence but touched by the idea of perfection.

Anyway yeah. Original sin. Nature versus idealization. Jealous mother.

All I want is a nice bed, home, boyfriend, and a good career. And a dog.

OCD POCD SOOD HOCD

All this time I was worried that Fred would be reading my blog and thinking about what I loser I am but it turns (through the Squarespace analytics) that he wasn't looking at my page at all. Not even once (according to the ip logs they were mostly me). Maybe it is better to be seen than be invisible.

What if I want neither?

Then maybe I belong in some sort of purgatory and not in the distinct space of [to be or not to be]. I'm not even sure if any of that remotely made sense. Hamlet asks himself, to be or not to be. Is there a third option?

The highlight of my day is going to Stew Leonards with my mom to buy bacon on sale.

On the bright side, I was watching some old videos of myself and it doesn't seem like I've gotten any dumber. Still retarded as ever!

I just wish I had the motivation and confidence to do something with my life. Instead I'm afraid of everything: having schizophrenia, being a pedophile, being gay, being incompetent, dying, living life. Smoking weed at least helped with my depression but made the anxiety and paranoia worse. Cigarettes made my depression worse. Maybe I should just stop with the substances and stick with one perspective for the time being. I think my other problem is just an addiction to outside substances. It's a psychological thing, like I can't enjoy life unless it's enhanced by a substance. Maybe it's a result of being oversaturated with consumerist ideals and having it applied to my own existence and body.

The killer for my self-esteem was having HOCD which lead to POCD, both being SOOCD. Basically fear of being a sexual orientation that is dissimilar to my own. When I was younger, it was fear of germs, then living with Erin* (who had HIV) it was the chance of getting HIV (which were extremely low but present nonetheless). It was really hard having cervical dysplasia, which lead to me being even more promiscuous for some reason (one night stands prevented having to talk about things). I think my fear of having HIV came from the guilt I felt not informing my partners of HPV.

Even with that said, I'm not going to disclose HPV status once it clears because it's just retarded because almost everyone has it, and if it's cleared then it's not possible to transmit. No more guilt!

Going back to the HOCD, POCD, and SOOCD. I think it stemmed from little comments that Erin would make regarding my sexuality. I guess the uncertainty about my sexuality hit so hard for the mere fact that I was very comfortable with it. Despite watching crazy amounts of porn, even identifying with the guy, I was still straight. I talked to Fred a little about this and he said it's common because, duh the male gaze. He's really smart. I wish he was my boyfriend.

Sorry getting distracted. Yeah so it started off with the fear of being gay even though I've never been sexual with a girl or wanted to be, sans the porn in the male gaze. Then because I have this age gap fetish, erroneously thought I might be a pedophile. Long story short, I am not a pedophile (this is confirmed by a mental health professional, though in the next session she suggested I go on antipsychotics). No, I just want to be fucked by an older, mature (but not too mature, like 35-50) gentleman.

Post Turned Into Erotica

I tend to get obsessed with guys because I'm lazy and don't want to get rich on my own. I'm also tired of fucking myself.

My new obsession is Fred* who I've been fantasizing about since last Friday. It never occurred to me that he was older, but alas he is about 8 years older than me (I have a thing for older men). I called him today making some excuse about getting paid for the shoot (it's going to take two months). He doesn't know that I've been internet stalking both him and his girlfriend (they are semi-famous so there's a lot).

Honestly, I think I would make a good wife, the only downside is I would probably go crazy within a few years. Just the idea of being with the same person for the rest of my life is making my eyes roll to the back of my head. But you never know until you try right?

Everything about the logistics of human life makes me laugh. Just the hypocrisy of it all is baffling,  once you get past all the neurotransmitters and hormones.

I think I'm slowly getting out of that anxiety of being afraid that I'm gay or a pedophile. It was honestly the scariest and most depressing days of my life, but a bit laughable now. The other day I was watching porn and was mesmerized by this woman's size A cups bouncing as she was getting fucked. Looking at it now, I guess there is something really mesmerizing and sensual about breasts bouncing from a dick going in and out of it. Sometimes I feel like I have the sex drive of a teenage boy, but I think it's a result of my biological clock running. I get really turned on by the idea of getting forced into sex. Not rape, per say, but like I'm cooking and Fred* without asking puts his dick inside of me.

Or like I'm at home wearing a corset and garter and he slips a finger inside of me to find that I'm soaking wet. "Go upstairs and get ready for me." As he's making himself a drink I'm in the master bathroom freshening up. My small shapely lips give a preview of what's going on downstairs. As I'm putting on lipstick he comes up behind me and starts kissing my neck. I can feel his stiff cock pressing against my ass-crack. His 6 foot 2 frame overpowers my small one and I am helpless in his arms.

Ect. Ect. Ect.

*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.

Introduction

Whenever I write something knowing it will be published, I end up sounding cheesy. There's nothing about it I can change, but I made this website in order to write anonymously and not have my writing be affected by potential readers.