#the kind who hate excluding others the kind that felt abandoned themselves

[elytrafemme]

you know i’ve had a lot of experiences of appearing and disappearing symptoms/issues. so every few months i discover a new problem and have to spend weeks trying to grapple with it, this is just kind of a thing for me. always. 

but i think the realization that i actually have like. severe abandonment issues? is probably the most devastating of any experience i’ve had with this. i miss my old friends so, so fucking bad. 

[nohrenvia]

Bizarre Rain

ᴊᴊʙᴀ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀɪᴀɴ ᴀᴜ

Type ー OC x Canon

Synopsis ー London, England 1860's. High society couldn't believe what they saw. A commoner marrying a nobleman? Had the world gone mad? It definitely is.

Featuring ー Victorian AU Bucci gang & Oc's

a/n. Thank you @theclairedelunemiracle for setting the AU in motion. This story took a lot of time to write, but it was fun nonetheless.

Who is Lady Angelica?

As you all may have known, she is the heiress of Spade, one of the largest tea company to ever be built upon England. It isn't uncommon for the nouveau riche to enter high society as a newcomer, the Spade family rose into riches a decade ago, earning themselves a place as one of the richest family in high society, surpassing several barons, viscountess, and even earls. The high society has never been merciful to the nouveau riches. So evidently, Miss Spade endures by waltzing her way into the ballroom, whilst whispered insults were aimed at her.

Recalling a few years ago, Angelica Spade was nothing but a mere merchant's daughter, her unclear past left an unimpressionable mark, leaving not a single clue to where her family had hailed from.

Being loved and hated at the same time sounds utterly ridiculous, Angelica thought so.

Her kind and merciful nature had made her a saint in the eyes of some, and the other whom hated her brings scorn at every turn. The world of the elite was a strange and dangerous place, just as treacherous as the low class.

Angelica Spade wasn't born in aristocracy or gentry. Her mother, a descendant of a fallen noble house, married a timid yet hardworking commoner.

The man's endeavors are well-paid by heaven's above, amassing an incredulous amount of wealth than expected. As of now, the Spade family are one of the richest excluding the nobles and the royals. Their wealth attracted countless attention, it wasn't a surprise if young, but destitute men knocked on house Spade's door in order to take her hand in marriage, of course, they are rejected. Most of them seeks to usurp her fortune to absolve debts, gambling, drinking, and many unspeakable acts she does not condone.

Although the lady bestows mercy, no forgiveness would be allowed to anyone who harmed her or her family.

Rain is an old friend.

It is the oldest friend to her.

Why should one be bothered by water? Most of people felt quite the discomfort when rain falls, huffing at the inconvenience. Nevertheless, as long as she can remember, rain stays where it is needed, and she's had her share of rainfall, particularly during those funerals she attended.

Her first funeral was dedicated to Angelica's dear old grandmother, dying beautifully in her coffin, surrounded by her favorite lilies. She can not remember who cried the most, but the hardest to fall onto his knees was her grandfather.

'Oh, how grandfather loves grandmother with his whole heart, more than himself, I did not know if it's true but I can confirm that thought. He must have cherished her a whole lot that he dug her grave in the middle of October.'

I know. I saw it from afar, behind the graveyard's gates.'

Many of her extended family died, one by one their funerals took a lot out of their meager wealth.

Some died in war, others submit to disease and famine, while a few died from unexpected or natural causes, and poverty crushed the rest.

Angelica was present in every single funeral arranged, and just like a loyal friend, rain arrives. In the very end, all that is left is her mother and her aunt. From a once great family, they were reduced into nothing but rubbles. House London, a once noble viscount household, had perished, courtesy of death.

Such a young soul, to be surrounded by death, the young Spade often thought if she would succumb to the same macabre fate as her ancestors. She never shed a tear upon those who are dead, but whoever said it didn't soften her heart? So soft, so merciful, yet so haunting.

'Would you believe if I say the memory of the smell never abandoned my mind? If you wish to perceive it, then you better search for something dead, entwine that something with withering lilies and roses. By then, you will know the scent of my family, the scent of death, a grotesque aroma.'

Known to be very fond of rain and hydrangeas, others had coined the nickname 'Lady of Hydrangeas' as a formality for her ladyship. The lady herself would gift a hydrangea as a token of her appreciation, most likely picked from her private gardens.

It was said that if one should visited the lady on a rainy day, she would be in a good mood. Any requests shall be granted on behalf of the calming rain.

Lady Aria Pamina Hertz, Baron Hertz's daughter, became close friends to Lady Angelica when they met each other on a rainy day.

Aria had lost her way. The gardens were akin to a maze, the way out wasn't in sights as she strolled. The sky had turned into a gloomy gray and not too long after, droplets of rain fell from the sky, heavy rain obscuring one's eyesight.

From afar, Aria saw a figure holding an umbrella, approaching her.

"Oh, hello there," a lady emerged from behind the curtain of rain.

The kind lady introduced herself as Angelica Spade, she offered Aria her umbrella as they searched and found a place to take shelter from the windy rain, that place being the garden's alcove.

Upon hearing her name, Aria recognized her as the heiress of Spade. She had always admired the mind behind the tea company, especially, their premium tea, launched by Lady Angelica herself, has proven to be wonderful, impressing the tongues of both the highborn and lowborn.

Flattered by such words, Angelica took an interest to the lady, so much that she offered Aria her friendship, deliberately landing a hydrangea on Aria's hand soon after.

The noblewoman, at the end of the day, was chaperoned by Angelica to the main house, the sky is getting darker by the minute. Strangely enough, Aria noticed her new companion did not take a step to the house, instead, the whimsical lady stood in the middle of rain, shielded by an umbrella. Before Aria could express her confusion, Angelica turned her back, returning to the gray gardens and equally gray skies, disappearing once again behind the curtain of rain.

"Come to my house any day, Lady Aria. I'll be sure to welcome you with the wafting scent of my newest tea."

Who would've known, Lady Angelica are well-acquaintanced with Lord Giorno Giovanna, Duke of Naples.

Rumor has it, that Lady Angelica had known the duke since he was a child. But is it true? Or was it another one of the gossips?

Even high-ranked nobles had difficulty arranging or requesting an audience with Duke Giovanna.

Additionally, her ladyship seems to be a member of Duke of Naples's inner circle. The story itself is quite a mystery, however, it couldn't be denied since Lady Angelica is truly Duke Giovanna's friend and one of his loyal confidante.

"Do you remember the time when we strolled by the slums?" Angelica said, reclining on the sofa inside Giorno's study. Now that he was the Duke of Naples, everything the previous duke belongs to him, "And we shared a basket of bread,"

Giorno leans to one of the finely-crafted bookshelves, reading a book, "Yes, I remember it clearly. You gave all the bread to me except for one,"

"I'm not fond of bread, one is enough," She rose from the plush seat, proceeding to gaze outside the palladian window, "But, that basket of bread led you to me, yes?"

The book was shut with a thump, "Indeed," he put the book down on his mahogany table, approaching Angelica, standing beside her as he too gazed the gardens below, "You, however, sent me to Bucciarati,"

"He could care for you better than I, and better than starving by my side," Angelica hummed.

If one inspects closer at the time they were but small children, Angelica and Giorno was similar to siblings, like an elder sister guiding her inexperienced younger brother.

But in truth, he saw her as a mentor, though she was far from it.

The lady knew who and what his true form is, with black hair and dull eyes, the color of dead leaves. She was utterly in shock when she realize his hair was dyed black, and that his true hair is golden, revealing his heritage, and his dream.

"However, if it weren't for you, I would never realize my dream. Grasping what is rightfully mine from the usurper Diavolo is nothing but a fool's daydream, impossible to achieve, if it isn't you who stoked the fire to my heart," glancing to his right, Giorno could see a small smile gracing her lips.

"You strive in light, while I strive in rain. Funny how the world works. Then again, my role was nothing but a wind to your firewood. Your actions are the ones who hoisted you to victory." She giggled, "You are the one who took Bucciarati's hand, I only showed you the way,"

The lady sighs, turning to face the golden-haired youth, "But, Haruno..." she gave him a wry smile, eyebrows scrunched.

The Duke of Naples felt something was amiss, "Yes...?"

"You were courting my landlady!?"

That day, Lord Giorno Giovanna, Duke of Naples, nearly received a slap, courtesy of Lady Angelica's fan.

But now, society know her as Lady Angelica Fugo, the Marchioness of Montierri, or simply as Marchioness Fugo.

Whilst Adrian Spade was given the honor of knighthood by the queen. Marchioness Angelica Fugo was almost given the title of dame, but the damehood was politely declined in favor for it to be given to her aunt, the now Dame Julia London.

The marriage between Marquess Pannacotta Fugo and Lady Angelica Spade shook London's high society to the core, earning many gossips and rumors encircling their matrimony. How did their union came to be?

March 1860. The night is young, the sun had just set. But tonight won't be a quiet night, not with the merrymaking of the ball's participant, and the debutantes. Twas a sight to behold, a party with men and women gliding through the dance floor, enthralled by the alluring music which is played by the recently popular musicians. Many young ladies could only dream about something such as tonight. Those bright-eyed maidens, dreaming about a grand ball, a dashing gentleman sweeping them off their feet. She would know, for that girl dreamt the same when she was but a child.

And here she was, lounging on an armchair at the back of the hall, hiding half of her face with a fan.

"Daughter, we ought to go home." Mr. Spade, sauntered toward her, "There's something we have to discuss... immediately."

Angelica shuts her fan with a sigh, smiling in relief, "Finally, I'm dying to leave this place."

"Indeed, we must. What we will discuss would determine your future." Mr. Spade muttered, prompting Angelica to fumble her fan.

"My dear, you are getting married."

"Pardon...!?" The words left Angelica wide-eyed, the room around her seems to blur away.

All she could see were candlelights...

The first meeting between the two took place in Lord Pericolo's debutante ball, a ball he held for the sake of the season's debutantes. The star bachelors of the season all gathered there, including the young marquess, without doubt it was Duke Giorno Giovanna and his allies.

According to a reliable source, rich and powerful figures graced the hall with their presence.

Bruno Bucciarati, Marquess of Townshend, also known as the 'Port Marquess', a nickname he held to this day. Owner of the Townshend company, a man too kind for his own good, also a desirable husband for the young maidens.

And not to forget, the port marquess's right hand man, Leone Abbacchio, Earl of Surrey. Owning a mine and a bad reputation of being a drunkard. But it is all in the past now that Marquess Bucciarati has baptized him into a new man.

For the free-spirited, simple, and horse-obsessed Earl of Lennox, Guido Mista, Bucciarati saw him fit as another ally with great talents. Lord knows why he chose that wild horse. However, no one can deny his gallant features and charm, handsome as he is cheerful, inciting excitement wherever he goes.

The future Baron Berner, a boy as refreshing as a river stream, also a debutant, Narancia Ghirga. Sponsored by Duke Giovanna and Marquess Bucciarati, he has a considerable amount of wealth despite not inheriting his father's title yet.

It all led to today. Yes, Lord Pericolo's ball is today.

The ball was meant to elevate his ward, Trish Una, as a debutant.

And her soon-to-be husband would meet her for the first time. Then again, Angelica is nervous, as well as the night before, for she knows not the visage of the man she would marry. Everything happened all of a sudden!

Angelica found herself beside her father, inside Lord Pericolo's ballroom. Tonight, she would meet her fiancée.

But before that, there is someone she would like to meet.

And the most surprising is how Marchioness Fugo is also a friend of the Duchess of Naples.

Our dear reliable source also told a story about how Lady Angelica associated herself with foreigners in Lord Pericolo's debutante ball.

Moreover, they were diplomats from India? That certainly sounds mysterious, one might wonder who they are, however, it was revealed to be Duchess Bria Giovanna when she was but a maiden.

"Good evening, Mr. Spade," A man, slightly bowed to Angelica's father.

"Ah! Lord Adal, a pleasure to meet you!" Mr. Spade cheered, shaking the foreigner's hand, a sign of a warm greeting, "I can't believe you've graced us with your presence tonight. Oh, and may I know who this lovely young lady is...?"

Lord Adal gestured to the young woman by his side, she is a rare beauty, capable of binding the many eyes to her spell, but unaware of her own charm.

"This is my daughter." Lord Adal proudly gestures.

Black hair falling like waves upon one's shoulders, eyes imbued with a star-like light, skin shimmering like bronze tampered with honey, and adorned with a sweet smile to her rosy lips.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Spade. My name is Bria Adal." Bria Adal presents a feather-light curtsy. Her eyes then finds itself into a pair of eyes with the color of rain.

Angelica smiles in acknowledgement, happy to meet someone her age.

"A nice evening, yes? I never thought I would meet one of England's largest tea company's owner in the flesh, much less summoned to personally meet him."

Lord Adal swirls his glass of wine in delight, "Say, I mean not to be rude, but I have a box of fine cigars I'd like to share with you while we talk about our business. Shall we?" He turns his body toward the ballroom exit, obviously referencing to the lounge room.

"Ah, it's a shame, Lord Adal. But the one who summoned you isn't me." Mr. Spade grins in withdrawal, "The one who called for you is none other than my daughter."

"Your daughter!? You jest, Mr. Spade! That couldn't be--"

"It's as true as day, my lord. I believe anyone could initiate business matters despite their gender and status. That said, it was Angelica's idea to form a partnership with you," He leers at the baffled lord, "I implore you, my lord. Please give her a chance, you won't regret choosing her." Mr. Spade glanced down to his daughter who beamed brightly due to his praise.

Lord Adal came this far only to be met with his business partner, who happened to be a young girl, as not to waste his chance of gaining a promising partnership, he relents with a heavy heart.

"So, what business venture do you have to offer, Miss Spade?" He cleared his throat.

Angelica swelled with pride, fully supported by her father's praise.

It is here that Lady Angelica first encountered the future Duchess of Naples, Lady Bria Adal, now known as Duchess Bria Giovanna. Their friendship lasted for a long time, it was revealed Lady Angelica summoned Lady Bria to enter the court of London's noble society as diplomats and business partners.

The conversation fell onto a magnificent end with Lord Adal chuckling over his new business partner, a young lady at that. To discuss further transaction and partnership, Mr. Spade led Lord Adal into the lounge room, the latter requested Angelica to take care of his daughter whilst he was gone.

The two young ladies chatted the without a care for the ball whilst drinking tea and eating light snacks. They found common interests in tea, Bria loves the tea she grew back home, Angelica meanwhile found joy in blending tea. If it wasn't for the presence of Lady Aria Hertz, Lady Adal's best friend whom she met on a summer ball, the conversation would've lasted through the night.

Angelica let the two young women exchange their greetings and chats about their well-beings, just as she was about to go and see her father, she saw the Duke of Naples, Giorno Giovanna, entering the ballroom, not long after he descended from the stair steps with his entourage following behind, he's surrounded by women, young and old.

Blushing maidens, eager mothers, excited matchmakers, all surrounded them like waves, competing for attention.

It's like watching an animal pouncing it's prey for meat, Miss Spade thought. Then again, Duke Giovanna's business is none of her concern. Her old friend must defend himself this time, without anyone's guidance.

Angelica had seen enough, she was about to leave until the door opens, making way to blond young man, with brilliant purple orbs for eyes.

Angelica froze is shock. She almost dropped her fan as she glanced at his form bathing in the dim candlelights.

Pannacotta Fugo, the Marquess of Montierri, her betrothed. He joins Duke Giovanna's inner circle, mingling with the noble gentlemen, partaking his place as one of the duke's most trusted friends.

Not knowing what to do. Angelica slips among the guests and ran straight to the lounge room, where her father resides.

His name is Pannacotta Fugo, the sole heir of the prestigious House Fugo. His family had bore the title of Marquess of Montierri from a long line of generations. House Fugo is quite reputable for being a prestigious and old house, they are respected among the european high society. After all, their powerful stance goes a long way back to the past and that power has stayed within their house until now. However, that reputation collapsed not so long ago when Marquess and Marchioness Fugo's son, the heir of house Fugo, was involved in a scandal.

He was rumored to once bludgeoned a tutor to death. That rumor turned out to be not far from the truth, while it is true that Pannacotta had killed his own teacher, he did out of self-defense, rumor said. House Fugo didn't hesitate to release their one and only heir from the bonds of trial, much less the confines of a jail, using their wealth.

Since then, no one would dare to socialize with Lord Pannacotta Fugo and no house is willing to give their daughters to marry him. Not the royals, not the nobles, not even the gentry. Until now, the lord's father himself had to arrange a union for his troublesome son, and of all women in the world, it has to be a Lady Angelica.

And the question remains.....why?

Marquess Fugo's father and mother demands an audience with Mr. Spade. He travelled all the way from Italy to find a bride for his son. The marquess is now too old to rule, he intended to pass down his title to his only son. But his family was crushed by a great shame brought by said son. He admitted that he was turned away at every single great houses, lower houses, even the gentry dared to oust him, although subtly, he was rejected at every turn.

Out of ideas, the marquess heard of a kind and humane daughter of a successful tea merchant in England. With no other way, he swallowed his pride, negotiating a union between his son and a commoner girl, she is rich, but, still a commoner. His son will have a bride and all the wealth she had, while the girl would be given a title of nobility.

Fugo was supposed to meet his fiancée tonight, but, she's nowhere to be found. The ballroom is expansive, however, he had searched around the room for a sign of Angelica, and none he found.

If he listened to what his father said, he described Fugo's betrothed as a maiden with dark brown hair, almost as dark as soil, possessing a pair of pale blue eyes.

The color of rain, his father reminded.

"I couldn't find her anywhere, GioGio," he sighed, "I've explored the entire ballroom only to find nothing, I'm starting to think she might have abandoned me here."

Giorno was perplexed to say the least, he was familiar with his old friend, she wouldn't avoid anyone unless she has a reason to, "Rest assured, dear friend. I'm certain she was merely shy to meet her future husband," he gave a reassuring yet playful smile, "Furthermore, it's rude of you to approach a lady without ever engaging a conversation with her. Give her some time, this is the first social gathering you attended as a couple,"

Fugo unconsciously scratched his hand, "I'm worried, Giorno. Something might have happened to her--"

"Fugo, calm down. You'll find her eventually," Abbacchio gave a harsh pat to his back as he downed a glass of wine, "This brat might be right, your future wife is shy," he hissed, delivering Giorno a condescending smirk, "But, isn't she three years older than you?"

"If you didn't find her, let's just hit the bar!" Narancia added, only to have his head smacked.

"Idiot! You're not even allowed to go there!" Fugo barked.

"Hey, I'm older than you!" Narancia tenderly nursed the spot where Fugo striked.

"Quit it, both of you," scold Bucciarati, "We're here to make sure Narancia had a smooth debut, not to bicker and roughouse like hooligans."

Both of them stopped their dispute immediately.

"Keep an eye when you find her, Fugo," Bucciarati commanded, "Unfortunate things happen so often these days. Accidents, death, it's common these days, as common as seeing an child factory worker wounded,"

The remark was duly noted.

Marquess Fugo was about to give up his pursue and return to Duke Giovanna when out of nowhere, Mr. Spade appears behind him. Truth to be told, he was startled but showed respect nonetheless. Exchanging a few greetings, Mr. Spade brought the young marquess to the lounge room where they chatted.

The gentle and amicable Mr. Spade continued to converse with the young man. Fugo deemed the conversation to be a hidden interrogation by his future father-in-law, then again, the man seemed to genuinely care for his future son-in-law judging by his words.

"Pardon me for interrupting, sir," Fugo gingerly opens his mouth, "But, I haven't seen my fiancée anywhere tonight. May I ask where she is?"

"Oh, silly me! I forgot to tell you," he let out a half-suppressed laugh, "Angelica is not feeling well, she went home,"

Mr. Spade could see the disappointment in Fugo's face, "I see..." he trailed off.

"Not to worry, you'll be able to see her tomorrow," Mr. Spade gently drops a box of fine cigars on the table, "Anyways, how about a smoke to pass the time? It would be a waste not to."

The edge of Fugo's eye twitched at the sight. He had always hated smoking, offering him a cigar sounds offensive to his dignity as a sober youth.

Fugo averted his gaze, "I hate to tell you this, sir," he waved off his hand, "But, I detest smoking."

"Ah! That's not a problem at all!" Mr. Spade chuckled as he took the box back, putting it where it belongs, atop the drawer.

Such a chaotic reputation!

A woman wouldn't risk being married to a known to be violent man, even commoners knew that.

How rude of him for daring to court his betrothed without a semblance of dignity. I'd say they never even had a simple conversation since they never met. The ball was meant to introduce them to one another but he chose an aggressive and direct way, asking the guests on the whereabouts of Lady Angelica.

However, we could not deny that Lady Angelica also has faults for not acknowledging her soon-to-be husband despite being present at the ball, what an un-ladylike action.

With that aside, is it a mystery that the lady chose to marry the brute of a man? Certainly she had a reason to accept, or was she forced to form a matrimony with the marquess?

Fugo left Mr. Spade impressed more than he expect. He had knowledge of the violence his son-in-law is capable of. But the more he examined, there was a caring and serious youth. He can tell Fugo carried a great burden inside his heart.

If he was honest, Mr. Spade intended to reject House Fugo's proposal, but he allowed them to do so, curious of what would come.

And why not? This was a chance to elevate their status, providing his daughter a comfortable life as a noblewoman. Mr. Spade could always trust her to take care of herself if her husband is not her type, or if he starts beating her. But, he knew, when he saw Pannacotta Fugo's portrait, history, and scholar diplomas, he knew this young man would caught his daughter's fancy. So he obliged to the noble's proposal.

However, he encountered a strange occurrence a few hours ago.

When Lord Adal has left a suitable negotiation term and bid adieu, Angelica came bursting through the door, her cheeks red and her breath is ragged. She was dead silent at first, then paced back and forth, toying with her fan, he could hear her mumbling incoherent sentences. Mr. Spade couldn't hold back his smirk, of course he knew his daughter's tastes. It seems the suitor he chose has enough to conquer her. It wasn't complete, however. Taking his daughter's trust issues into consideration, it won't be an easy path for a successful marriage between her and the marquess.

And so it was, his peculiar daughter asked him to give the marquess some cigars. If he gladly took a smoke, then she would refuse to accept him as her husband, but if he is not a smoker, then Angelica would accept his proposal with pleasure.

"Well? What do you think, Angelica?" Mr. Spade asked his daughter who hid half of her body with the bathroom's door. Her gaze was casted down as a soft smile crept to her lips.

"Father, I want to marry him."

The wedding was simple, but tasteful. If you weren't invited, shame one you!

It's one of the most gorgeous wedding of the season, or of the decade. Influential commoners, members of the royal court, and the high-ranked nobles attended the wedding, but the invitation was distributed as a private affair. It wasn't an open wedding per se, only those who knew Lord and Lady Fugo may enter the premises.

Lady Angelica Fugo's wedding dress was the current envy at the time. The designer was of common origins, yet talented nontheless. Lady Fugo is so grateful that she invited the tailor to attend her wedding as a guest!

"What would your bouquet be?" asked Trish Una, the young woman lounging on the boutique's sofa, fanning herself with a pink fan.

"Purple hydrangeas," Angelica stood still as the tailor tidied her wedding dress, "I've grown the flowers myself. The florist shall take care of the rest."

"Stay still, milady," the tailor mused, "The dress seems to fit you perfectly! All that is left is your headdress," she scurried into the back of the boutique.

Trish eyed her friend sharply, "Why did you choose this boutique anyways? I could have recommended a more high-end boutique for you. They all knew me, you see?"

Marchioness Trish Una, the flower of high society, and a socialite, was never out of style. A trendsetter, every fashion she wore would be trending the next day. As the daughter of the former Duke of Naples, Diavolo, she inherited half of his riches, increasing said riches by investing in the fashion industry and becoming a darling in the fashion industry.

Some boutiques even gave her dresses, free of charge. Her wearing their dresses are more than enough publicity to elevate their status among the top designers in Italy. And now, the Marchioness of Campania spent her days as a socialite and a singer. Her dulcet voice apparently has charmed the theaters, and Angelica is no exception.

"The designer of this boutique is a friend of mine, I am her patron, my lady." Angelica quietly smiled at her reflection, the picture of a bride, "Furthermore, she doesn't produce this dress off the backs of the poor and their children. I exalt her, she's a decent woman."

Trish closes her fan quickly, standing to admire her friend's wedding dress, "Yes, this embroidery is magnificent... there's sewn hydrangea flowers too." Trish appraised the flowing white cloth as the tailor is back with a veil headdress.

"There," she gracefully placed it upon Angelica's head, "What do you think, Angelica?"

Angelica clapped gently, "Fantastic! Your work never cease to amaze me, Abella." She draws out an embellished, fancy letter, extending her hand toward Abella.

"Angelica...?" Abella was speechless, to have the honor of attending a noble's wedding was something that doesn't happen every day. Also, she would see her friend walking down the aisle with the dress she personally tailored.

Trish softly laughed behind her fan, knowing she had to visit the designer for a boutique fitting the next time she shops.

"I'd be grateful for your presence if you decide to attend the wedding, not as a stranger, but as a friend."

No longer than a month, Miss Angelica Spade became Lady Angelica Fugo, Marchioness of Montierri. The news shattered the expectations of so many nobles. Most are relieved to see the marquess matched with someone who wasn't them. After all, the estranged Marquess Fugo was bad news, he was ruthless and short-tempered, there would be no more sacrifices to be made. But, on the other hand, some were enraged at the thought of a commoner girl marrying a nobleman, and of a powerful house no less.

It seems the court's panic died down when Marquess of Montierri seemed to be tamed by his own wife. How shocking!

It was told, the marquess's temper cooled off like Alaskan snow, melting in summer. But, make no mistake, he is still ruthless.

That beast of a lord had a mind sharper than knife, and no one had the power to deny his merits as a renowned scholar despite harming a soul.

What sort of tricks did the marchioness use? Surely the marquess wouldn't accept her into his family without a particular reason. Could it be the marchioness puppeteering her husband for her own again? If so, then she did a splendid job controlling the wild beast of a man who would sooner bash someone's head than to calm down.

My dearest ladies and gentlemen, apparently Marquess Fugo's wrath has been quelled, here we have the proof of his decreasinfg temper slowly dying, especially in the presence of his wife. We shall rejoice in the fact that gone are the days where the infamous Marquess Fugo would extend his ruthlessness to innocents.

And why do we celebrate? Well, it's not difficult at all to tell the marquess is in lo--

"Which blundering whore wrote this article!? Ucciderò quella puttana!"

Rip!

Marquess Fugo tore the gossip article in half. He was undoubtedly furious, how dare the writer discuss his wife's private life, their marriage, his his past, and the countless rumors surrounding them.

His wife, Angelica, meanwhile bursted into a fit of giggles, swelling into a laugh.

"My, my! What an interesting article!" She chimed, her husband was a whole different picture, he threw the papers onto the ground, Angelica embraced Fugo from behind, circling her arms to brought their bodies closer to each other, "All that happened in the past is not a burden, darling. I am rather grateful to have my name be graced upon the infamous gossip papers." Angelica stroke Fugo's torso as a way to calm his nerves, proven to be effective as his growling, heavy breaths died down.

When he turned to Angelica, concern was written across his emotions, his palms tenderly cupped her cheeks, "Do you think I would stand back and do nothing?" He seethed, "Your name is dragged through the mud, they accused you of being a two-faced, sly fox, I will not tolerate that!" Fugo snapped, arms gripping the edges of his study desk.

"If they refused to cease the nonsense, might as well I pay a visit to Abbey Mirror News to bring forth a complaint of defamation." The desk's wood cracks beneath the pressure of his grip.

Even though Angelica doesn't let her emotions show, Fugo has seen her deepest emotion after years of marriage. He's heartbroken to hear the love of his life turned into a laughingstock and target of insults, which is why to save her tears, he'd do anything.

"Pannacotta, please perish the thought," Angelica put a hand on his shoulder, "No offense were given, and none taken. As I said, if the story contains an ability to entertain its reader, I am truly happy my tale was used to entertain,"

Fugo admitted defeat, deciding he couldn't win against his wife.

What he didn't know was the fact Angelica strategically supported the prints of the gossip papers. Yes, she has kindness, but that doesn't imply she can not be cunning and shrewd, does it?

"How about a game of chess? To alleviate your darkening mood?" Angelica straightens his tie, giving a kiss to his collarbone. Imagine if this interaction happened in public. People would shun her and her husband for their improper act, but this is their home. Why should she abide to their rules?

"I'll brew you some tea. Wait here, alright?" Fugo acknowledged, planting a smile to his wife. He always knew what his wife wants, rarely did he missed the mark, five years of marriage tells a lot about each other.

Did they fight? Most definitely, even three years ago they almost killed each other in rage, but their marriage endured. Just like Angelica's plan to make her company withstand the tides of time at least for a century, she fully intended to dedicate her life to her beloved husband.

Thanks to the humane Angelica, Pannacotta learns what mindfulness and mercy is, while he stimulates her mind to do greater things, challenging her at every turn to rise to his level of knowledge.

Taking the fallen, ripped leaflet of society papers, Angelica reclined on a purple chaise lounge, piecing the papers together, reading the last lines.

--ve. Should we even call it a match made in heaven?

Despite the low status of the bride, the wedding was held with almost no trouble, except for the rowdy Baron Berner, Lord Narancia Ghirga and the Earl of Lennox, Guido Mista.

As of now, the Fugo couple is one of the high society's most respected aristocrat. Regarding the matters of the marquess as a talented scholar, and a trusted vassal of Duke of Naples, he managed to acquire several lands and factories over the years, inviting european diplomats and noble house hailing from his home, Italy, forming strong alliances under the banner of Duke Giovanna.

That said, were you on Duke Giovanna's party last week?

If not, how unfortunate of you! Almost half of the country's successful bachelors came gathering to meet Duke of Naples before he returned to Italy with the Duchess.

Interestingly, Marchioness of Montierri was responsible for providing scholarships for those successful gentlemen, and they came to give her their thanks.

Was it a mere rumor? A lie? Only time will tell.

"Say, cara. May I know who wrote their article?" Fugo moved his knight on the chessboard.

Angelica sipped her tea in a calm manner, "The name is on the bottom of the paper, my darling. Take a look."

Yours ever,

Lady Featherly

[pl-panda]

The Vines that bind us - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous Ladybug or any DC characters. I own only the plot, and even that is inspired by the amazing story "Marigold Ivy" by @lwandile13 on Wattpad. Go check it. It's great. He allowed me to take some inspiration, for which I'm grateful. Also, don't translate the french words maybe. Or at least do it on your own responsibility. Big thanks to @Liza! on Discord for being my Beta :)

NEXT

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a normal girl, with a normal life. But she had a secret. Her real name was Marigold Isley. She was born under that name in Gotham city sixteen years ago. Her mother never revealed to her who was her father, but Mari never cared. She was happy with her mom and several aunts and uncles. Technically, none of them were related to her by blood, but Rogues were quite close to each other (excluding some outcasts like Joker or the Menagerie). They taught her many interesting things such as lockpicking, stealth 101, or hand-to-hand combat. She was five when it started, so her first-ever practical test was breaking into a kitchen cupboard and stealing a jar of cookies. Overall, she was very happy. 

It changed when she was eight. One very tired social service person named Elizabeth Barrow got wind of a child of a villain. That Elizabeth was new to Gotham after being reassigned from Metropolis and didn’t yet get the wind of how things worked. Maybe her colleagues didn’t like her, or maybe she was just too overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the problem in Gotham. Previously, there was an unspoken agreement in the government that they wouldn’t notice Marigold. In exchange, rogues were calmer. Or at least tried to keep the death toll down. For a time, Gotham even started to slowly heal. But then, Elizabeth took the case of Marigold Isley. Ivy tried to fight. To protect her daughter. For three days, the city was held hostage by giant plants. It was only the fear in her daughter’s eyes that made Poison Ivy relent and let go. She didn’t want that life for Marigold. The one condition she gave was that the girl would leave America as a whole, to ensure she would be safe from all the madness. 

And so Marigold ended up in the care of baker’s couple in Paris. She never showed any powers thus far and the adoption agency kept the parentage a secret. That’s when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born. She continued with martial arts training and stealth training, but now only as fun and reminder of her mother and extended family, as opposed to actual necessary survival tool. She also picked up designing as another hobby, which soon turned into a kind of obsession. She was generally a ray of sunshine. 

The one black spot in the happy world of Marinette was the Mayor’s daughter. Chloe Bourgeoise considered herself above others and just couldn’t stand sunshine girl. She ruined her clothes, sometimes damaged her homework, or verbally assaulted her. While Chloe was generally disliked, she was more of a nuance. Overall, Marinette was happy. At least until two events changed that. 

When she was twelve, Paris was attacked by Hawkmoth for the first time. Marinette found herself becoming Ladybug, a superhero with magical powers that protected the city from harm. She received a partner in form of Chat Noir. It took some time before she got hang of it, and then more time before she and Chat became an actual team. Over time, more heroes joined them, even if temporarily only. She had people she could count on. She became Happy again. 

Privately, she started her own brand: MDC, managed to become a class representative, and became best friends with Alya, who joined around the same time she became Ladybug. It was quite ironic. The superhero was best friends with one person whose greatest dream was to unmask the hero. Marinette also developed a huge (and a bit unhealthy) crush on Adrien Agreste, a famous model who was in her class. She spent years vying for his attention, but nothing ever came from her attempts. She was unable to even say a word around him and her face always became red like her mother’s hair. Overall, she couldn’t complain.

Then, when she was fifteen another black spot appeared. It was Lila (Liela) Rossi. She came to their school and immediately started sporting lies with every breath. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to buy into that, believing her like she spoke the gospel. Everyone but Marinette. She tried to expose Lila, but it only backfired. She became an outcast, disliked by everyone, and universally hated. Suddenly, it became okay to bully her because she was a bully herself and deserved it. It became okay to shun her and no longer include her in anything. The worst was Alya, her former best friend. At first, she just tried to nudge Marinette to give Lila a chance. When Marinette tried to show the truth, Alya practically attacked her. She was just as much responsible for Mari being cast out as Lila was. The fact that her best friend abandoned her only fueled the gossip and allowed Lila to drive the final nail in. In the span of a few weeks, Marinette was left alone. 

Around the same time, Chat Noir became more persistent in his pursuit of her while Adrien, who Marinette knew was aware of the lies, was only telling her to keep the high road (do nothing). She could understand him. As a famous model and son of a well-known fashion designer, he was always taught to not provoke the press. It still served as a wake-up call on her crush. 

--------

Marinette was packing her things after lessons when she noticed someone approach her from behind. Immediately, she tensed. After eleven years of martial arts practice, it was an instinct. Before she had time to turn around, something heavy landed on her desk with a loud Thud!. She turned to see Chloe standing over a large book, a single thick envelope, and a puffy bag that content Marinette couldn’t guess.

“What’s a…” She started, but Chloe cut her off. She had her usual ‘resting witch’ expression.

“The book contains every single instance I verbally assaulted you, destroyed something of yours, talked about you behind your back, or in any way otherwise did something wrong toward you. Here are the materials for the damaged clothes,” she pushed the bag toward her, “and here is money for other things.” Chloe gave her the envelope. “I apologize for all of that. I was jealous of all the attention you kept getting even though I thought I deserved it. I now realize that my behavior was wrong and hurtful. I will understand if you’ll never speak to me again. I kept acting ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” With that, she turned and started to walk again. Marinette idly noticed that there was no Sabrina nearby. Thinking back, Chloe was no longer acting (overly) mean toward anyone as of late.

Making a split-second decision, Marinette raced after the blonde and pulled her into a hug.

“Wha…” Chloe yelped before sinking into the hug. Neither girl realized they were crying until they finally separated. Blonde had her lite make-up in total ruin while Marinette had tears still going down her cheeks. “Does that mean you accept my apologies?”

Marinette didn’t answer immediately. She stood there with open mouth for a moment before smiling weakly. “Yes, Chloe.”

Since that day, they were best friends. It turned out to be a blessing. Chloe, once she finally allowed someone to truly know her, turned out to be a highly intelligent, funny, and very much still overbearing person. She still acted high and mighty, but it no longer felt mean, rather just… felt. She took to defending Marinette from the rest of the class. She was aware of Lila’s lies from day one but never acted on it until it was too late. Sabina abandoned her for the liar. Dealing with loneliness was hard on her. She didn’t even have parents that cared. Her father would probably move sun if she asked, but he had an emotional range of a toothpick. Her mother didn’t even know her name, so she didn’t bother.

Something about their friendship must’ve upset Lila because the girl upped her game. Marinette’s parents suddenly found themselves facing strong critique and constant inspection from the sanitary department and child protection questioning their parenting abilities. MDC, who was slowly becoming one of the go-to fashion designers for famous found herself in the middle of several fake media scandals, including one lawsuit over defamation. If it wasn’t for Jagged Stone and Penny rallying her customers, Marinette and her parents would end up broke. He managed to save MDC and practically made her untouchable. Still, Alya and Lila got off scot-free as nothing could be linked to them.

Perhaps what pushed Lila over the edge was Chloe confronting Adrien. She yelled at him for good two hours straight about responsibility and morality, pointing in detail exactly what he did wrong. She would probably go on if Marinette didn’t stop her. After that, Adrien finally apologized and tried to make things right, but it only turned against him. By then, Lila had everyone so deep into it, that he was powerless. She didn’t go after him as her partnership with Gabriel Agreste was too important, but she did tattle to the Fashion Mogul about it. Gabriel tried to get his son under control, but this was one thing that he couldn’t achieve. 

It did inspire a whole youth fashion line ‘rebel’, which became a global hit.

All this time, Marinette kept two secrets. One was her identity as Ladybug and the guardian, the other was her true name and family. Until she kept neither.

----------

Marinette returned home after another day at school. Recently, her mother revealed she was pregnant with another child, even though she was believed to be barren. Everyone in the bakery was overjoyed and the couple even started to hand out small treats to any guest that came. The free samples helped the business return to a better standing. 

When she entered, strangely there was no sound in the bakery. It was empty. Usually, her parents would both be very busy as it was still business hours. Slightly worried, she went upstairs. When she entered the living room, she found an envelope addressed to her. 

Isley

We tried, but we can no longer tolerate you. We turned a blind eye when we learned how improper you act, trying to drag every boy you meet for some, and we quote, “alone time”. We didn’t react to the bullying accusations, believing them to be overexaggerated. Even when you were expelled, we still had hoped you’ll turn out into a fine young lady. But now, we must think of the baby. Today was the last straw. Hearing about how you ruined that poor impaired girl’s birthday was both cruel and against everything we taught you. 

We held hope you won’t follow in your mother’s footsteps, but you proved us wrong several times. We supported your obsession over fashion, even with the drama it caused, because it was actually non-violent. At first, we didn’t want to teach you how to fight, but we convinced ourselves that you would have a way to vent the emotions somewhere away from us. 

Please, don’t try looking for us. We will probably have already left the country or even the continent. The bakery is yours. We don’t want to have anything to do with the spawn of evil such as you. 

We hoped you would turn out better

Sincerely,

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng

Marinette tried to read it over and over again, but her eyes welled with tears. She had no idea she was screaming until her throat was coarse. Rationally, she knew she needed to keep calm or she would attract the Akuma, but emotions made her not care. 

Unknowingly to her, the plants all around Paris responded to her cry. They started growing and spreading, trying to get to their queen and comfort her. The Akuma that would’ve come for her stumbled into one of the vines, corrupting it. Hawkmoth was surprised, it was not something anyone ever seen in Paris except on TV or some strange Japanese shows that play after midnight. The more important thing was that even though he akumatized the plants, he had no control over them. He couldn’t even recall his Akuma. 

Back in Marinette’s living room, she started to feel the ground rumble. Soon, plants exploded from the ground and broke windows. She slowly looked at her hands to see them tinted with green. They were not the same as her mother’s, but close. She looked to the floor where pieces of glass littered everything. Her face was the same, but her hair became blue and her eyes were now the most vibrant iridescent green she’s ever seen, exactly the same color her mother’s eyes were. 

She started to panic even more. Tikki floated next to her, talking to her, but Marinette couldn’t hear her. Or maybe process it. She could hear the plants call to her. She could hear them speak. They promised her revenge. They promised retribution on those who attacked her. God’s wrath would rain upon them from the sky and hell’s fury would consume them from beneath. 

Impaired girl…

“Liar Rossi.” Marigold seethed. She knew there was only one person who would do such a thing. Only one talented enough to convince her parents she was a villain. If they wanted a villain, they would get one. Her mind was being clouded. Her clothes were already torn, replaced by a skintight outfit made of leaves, much like her mother wore. Then, Marinette remembered another part of the letter. She added a skirt made of purple petals that complimented her blue hair nicely and long sleeves that reached to her hands, ending with a triangle that reached her middle finger and surrounded it at the base. She left the decolletage as it was.

Exiting her house, she allowed the vines to carry her. There were only so many places The Liar could hide. First, she went toward School, as it was closest. She made plants carry her over the roof right into the courtyard while more of them broke the doors and blocked any exit. The fencing class was still going on, but The Liar was not there. She looked over the scared crowd, spotting two people she wanted to find. She needed to protect them from The Liar, else they end like her. She grabbed the fencer in a red outfit and her partner, knocking their masks to reveal Kagami and Adrien. The plants wrapped around them, forming a sort of cocoon before dragging them to the heart. Marinette then turned her sight to Eifel tower. She knew The Liar liked to drag the class there. 

As she moved through town, she passed the Hotel where Chloe lived. Pausing, she made the plants lift her toward the balcony. Her best friend was indeed there, right next to the lit-up Bee-signal. Honeystly…

“Marinette!?” The blonde jumped in surprise

“Marinette is gone. She should’ve never even been. I’m Marigold, the daughter of Poison Ivy.” For a moment, the fog thickened, but Mari shook it off quickly enough, before whatever caused it managed to get the hold of her. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng! If you got yourself akumatized, I’m telling my daddy!” Chloe shouted. Seeing the tears form in the iridescent green eyes, she looked at her friend with pity. “Oh, Mari! Is this the Liar again? Come here right now!” The blonde spread her arms for a hug. She didn’t care about the Akuma. Her friend needed her and she would help her conquer the world if she asked. Chloe owed Mari… everything. She helped her evolve beyond being the queen witch. In response to the gesture, the plants in the garden started to grow until they surrounded the two of them in a tight cocoon. Marinette stepped onto the balcony. She affectionately petted the vine that carried her so far before allowing it to return to its hunt for the Liar. 

“Chloeee!” Mari launched herself at the girl. She sunk into the embrace, allowing tears to start flowing again. She sobbed her heart out while pushing a piece of paper she constantly held in her clutched fist before. The blonde took it and read while patting Marinette on the back of her head. 

“Salauds! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! How dare that cochons! And the chienne! Wait till I tell daddy about this! Don’t worry Mari. I will protect you! I will ruin her! Merde!” The rant made Marigold pause. She never heard Chloe curse. Like… never. “But first. Mari. You know I love you and I would help you hide the body, but drop the Akuma. It’s making you look Ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous! I mean the dress is so much spot on and so you, but the whole take over Paris is more my style. I can let you be my faithful sidekick while we take over the world if you want.”

For a moment, Marigold continued to stare at Chloe before she burst out in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t a nervous chuckle or the villain cackle, but genuine pearly laughter. It was just so… Chloe-ish. She couldn’t imagine anyone trying to dissuade an Akuma by offering to become a sidekick. 

“You… You… Never change Chlo.” Mari smiled at her friend. 

“Whoa. You… didn’t make me a fertilizer? I mean, of course, you wouldn’t. You are just too good of a person, but Hawkmoth…”

“I’m not akumatized Chloe.” Mari smiled. “It’s me.” As if to prove her point, she stood up and spun, allowing the blonde to see her from all sides. “This is how I really look. Apparently, I do take some after my mom.”

“Your… mom?”

“Pamela Isley, she was a famous biologist. Mom was brilliant. She used to be one of the smartest people in the world.” Mari praised. “There was this one accident that she is now famous for…”

“Pamela Isley? I remember reading about her.” 

“Yeah… She is…”

“Didn’t she create this environment-friendly line of cosmetics?” Chloe asked in her typical fashion

“Yes! I have no idea why everyone remembers her only for the ‘Poison Ivy’ thing!”

“I know, right?” Chloe nodded. “Wait a…”

“Tada!” Mari said weakly before trying to look away, doing everything not to look her friend in the eyes. The blonde gently grabbed her chin and moved it so she could look right into the beautiful green eyes of her best friend.

“Mari! If you think I would abandon you just because your mother took veganism too far… You’re utterly ridiculous!”

Marigold smiled slightly. Slowly, the green receded and her eyes turned back to normal. The dress remained, as without it she would end up naked and she didn’t fancy trying to explain to anyone that. 

She then turned to the plants and tried to order them to return to normal, only for them to resist. For a moment, her mind started to feel fogged, but it didn’t hold at all now. 

“As much as I like the scenery, maybe we stop the plantpocalypse?”

“Um… Remember how I told you I wasn’t akumatized?”

“Yeah?”

“I think the plants are…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Chloe shouted. “Listen here Hawkmoth! Get this Akuma the heck away! I don’t care about some fancy Jewels that will totally clash with your suit! I mean purple and white with red earrings? Are you colorblind?”

There was no visible reaction to the plants. 

“Strange…” Marigold ran her hand over the plants. “They still respond, just refuse to yield.” Inside, Mari cursed that she couldn’t consult Tikki.

“So… Want some cookies?” Chloe asked. “We just have to wait for Ladybug to save the day. At least the damage will be repaired.”

‘Except Ladybug it trapped here…’

Suddenly, something small and black slipped through the vines and entered their small peaceful enclave. It zoomed between items on the balcony, trying to avoid being seen. It would’ve been successful if Chloe didn’t know about Kwamis. 

“What was that!?” She shouted pointing at Plagg’s hiding place.

“What? I didn’t see anything!” Mari tried to lie. It was the one skill she never had. She did compensate for it by never getting caught.

“A Kwami! I’m sure I’ve seen one.” 

“Kwami? Who’s Kwami? Is that some bird? How would a bird get here? I mean we are trapped in…”

“Ugh! I don’t have time for games!” Plagg suddenly floated before the pair. “Chat is trapped and can’t help without revealing himself. Paris is being destroyed mindlessly and nobody can do anything as the vines are harder than steel.” The cat summarized. “And I’m hungry. Give me cheese!” He looked at Chloe. “Camembert would be the best, but I’m not that picky.”

“Why come to us? Ladybug took away my miraculous.” The blonde asked. 

“I didn’t come to you. I came to her.” The god pointed at Mari. 

“Me?! Why? It’s not like…”

“We don’t have time for charades guardian! The Akuma is out of control! Literally! Hawkmoth’s connection was somehow severed and now you have a giant plant that knows only the rage. This is serious!”

Mari wanted to protest or try to save some of her identity, but then Tikki floated out of her purse.

“Oh no! Marinette! He is right! We have a huge problem.”

“Why?” The girl asked resigned.

“You’re Ladybug!” Chloe shouted but was subsequently ignored

“Hawkmoth must’ve akumatized the plant, hoping to control you, but he had no idea it was sentient. But it stopped being sentient the moment you let it go. I… It never happened before.”

“You’re Ladybug!!!” Chloe shouted so loud that everyone had to look at her. 

“We can talk later. Now we need to somehow deal with the plants. Maybe… No. What about… But they are too tough… What if…” Marigold started to run through various scenarios and plans. 

“Can’t you just order them to expel the Akuma?” Plagg asked bored.

“It… It might work.” Mari had a focused expression. In her head, she was running through all her knowledge of biology, miraculous magic, and how her mom’s powers worked. Hesitantly, she walked to the edge of the cocoon and called the main vine to her. The wall spread slightly and allowed the tip of it to enter. Mari touched it and started gently caressing it. 

“you’re a good boy. Yeah! Who’s a good boy? You’re. Yes! You’re a good boy. But Good Boys don’t have Akuma. Do you want to be a good boy? Of course, you do…” 

Chloe stood there and watched how Marigold kept talking to the plant like it was a puppy. She felt something fall into her hand. Opening the palm, she saw two earrings.

“I… I can’t!” She protested, but Plagg floated before her eyes.

“She can’t do it. If Akuma escapes, we will have plantmagedon on a larger scale.”

“Fine. Spots on!”

Just as Mari finally talked the plant into expelling the Akuma, Chloe caught it. 

“Bye Bye Little Butterfly!” She released the pure white bug. “Lucky charm!” Chloe shouted. A red and black folder fell into her hands. She looked at it curiously. Inside, she found a complete set of adoption papers for her father to sign. She quickly pulled out the sheets and tossed the folder itself, releasing a swarm of ladybugs that repaired Paris to how it was before plants. The sheet stayed. 

Transformation dropped after that and Chloe handed the jewel back to the true owner.

“You still have sooo much explaining to do!” 

Nobody remembered about Adrien and Kagami being carried together to safety, which turned out to be Mari’s basement. And while Ladybug Cure should’ve restored them to where they were taken from, for some unknown reason they remained locked there until Mari returned late into the evening to spend the last night at the bakery. It would be some time until Tikki admitted that it was an act of revenge on Plagg for revealing her chosen’s identity. He had to go the whole day without cheese. The one good thing that came from it was that Kagami and Adrien had a long frank talk and ended up as friends. The relationship just wasn’t working.

----------

When Mari was adopted by the Mayor, she decided to keep using the Dupain-Cheng name at least for now. At first, Chloe’s father was against it, but once the girl presented it as a way of getting good press of mayor who personally looks after his citizens he practically ripped the papers to sign them. Although on paper he was the adopter, Chloe was the real parent/sister that took care of Mari. Lila seethed and spitted, but couldn’t really do much more. Adrien and Chloe roped Jagged Stone and Penny into Marinette Protection Squad. Luka and Kagami, who somehow hooked up, also joined. At some point, Mari entrusted Luka and Kagami with permanent Miraculous and Gave Chloe the Bee miraculous back. Some Fox illusion of Chloe publically applauding new heroine helped hide her identity. The hardest part was revealing to Chat, Viperion, and Ryuko her true identity. Adrien was a big surprise, but at least they finally dealt with their crushes once and for all. The fact that they were in love square in two people was way too awkward. Chloe and Mari did notice Adrien sometimes looking at Luka, but he was happy with Kagami. The only person that disproved of ‘Lukagami’ was Kagami’s mother, but she warmed up to him when he accepted the challenge to a duel and was completely pacified when she learned that Luka is apprenticing under Jagged Stone. 

Jagged and Penny wanted to Adopt Mari, but ended up filling the role of uncle and aunt. After some time, Mari realized that she rebuilt what she once had in Gotham. These people might not have been her family by blood, but it mattered little. That family might’ve been damaged, maybe even broken, but they were happy together. They found solace in one another. Once more, Marinette was happy. 

Until a trip to Gotham came knocking on the front doors.

NEXT

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Could you write an imagine/head cannons for claude, felix, linhardt, and ashe where their s/o disappears leaving only a note? Then at some point they return out of nowhere. Thank you so much!

{I want to keep these stagnant and close to cannon(also easy for me to write). So i’m making it as if reader disappears with just a note for the 5yr gap and then they come back for the reunion. Is that okay? I hope it is. If not feel free to submit something more specific for a one-shot}

Claude:

Claude. For the past week I have tried to put my feelings onto paper, but I can’t. All I can say is that I am sorry. To stay here and sit around waiting for politicians to decide my next action...it isn’t wise. It seems our plans for the future have taken a detour haha. Always know that I am with you; that I will be rooting for you no matter where we end up after all of this. I know you can make those dreams of yours a reality. I believe in you. -(Y/N)

  The parchment had lain flat on his desk on top of many other documents. He had almost missed it if not for the familiar handwriting 

 For a moment Claude just sits there. In the chaos of recent events he hadn’t much time to check in with his friends or peers. After the Empire took the monastery, he was forced back to Alliance territory. His people needed him more than ever before. 

He knew that his classmates wouldn’t stick around much longer either. The nobility? Sure, they had to. But people like Raphael or Ignatz were most likely to pursue their own route 

 You weren’t excluded from those thoughts. While not at the top of the list, Claude had suspected that you might leave as well. It was the timing that caught him off guard 

Why not wait and talk it out together? He admits that not every problem is for you both to share, but this? This was personal just as much political.

He never could out-wit you. Even at simple tasks it was like you were always one step ahead. Hard to read, but still honest. He already misses the challenge. 

He will hide the note somewhere in his personal quarters. Where? Who knows. Most likely somewhere no one would ever think to look. 

What’s done is done. Claude won’t try to track you down or let his emotions over cumber him. He understands that while you two were ‘together,’ life has taken a turn for the worst. He believes that you can make your own decisions and turns his attention to fight against invasion

It’s five years later. More of his friends had faded out of the picture and he’s become a symbol of the Alliance. Occasionally word of your whereabouts had popped up in his ranks alongside the regular reports. The same was with all his other friends who had gone to down their own path. For Claude, knowing that you were safe was enough 

Until you appeared at the thieves’ den. Despite how all his deer were ecstatic about seeing each other, all he could think of was the note back in his room 

“I see time has brought us together again my friend. I hope this meeting isn’t purely from luck, we could really use you right about now” 

 Everyone knows that you both were together. Maybe it wasn’t public knowledge, but your quips and flirty jests never went unnoticed. It was obvious he wanted to speak with you alone 

And you do. Claude is understanding and doesn’t question what you’ve been doing while away. All he wants to know is why you didn’t say goodbye in person, and if you were there to stay. That’s it.

He needs his right hand. If you’re there, and with the professor at his side, Claude might just hope to see a happier world. He’s so tired of looking back on the past, and wants to work towards bettering the future.

Felix:

Felix. I can’t stick around twiddling my fingers while Fodlan falls to ruin.You may hate me for this, but I’m prepared for that.We both know your wrath isn’t the worst I’ve seen. Seriously Felix. Be good and don’t kill our friends while I’m away. Stay safe and please refrain from doing anything reckless. You better not roll your eyes at this either, I’ll know...I love you. Take care. -(Y/N)

Ingrid delivered the letter after he was released from guard duty. For a time after the battle Felix joined up with what was left of the Fargeus forces and planned on knocking some sense into their beast of a leader. There was still time to fight back and he’d be damned if they wouldn’t take it. You had joined him eagerly. If anything he expected you to cling annoyingly to his side, just as you always had. He wanted it, really. 

 He won’t say it but the state of the country had shaken him some. He knew that there was a fight awaiting, and knowing that you’d be there gave him extra motivation to press on. 

So the sight of your special seal on the envelope made him smirk. He assumed that sending a letter was your way of butting into his feelings, just like you always did. Ingrid even handed it off with a smile. 

He wasn’t expecting a goodbye 

 How...how dare you spring this on him? Leaving in the middle of a war?With that boar on the loose. When you’re needed the most?! All because you were impatient?! 

 “That idiot! What do they think they’re do- When did you get this? Do not test me right now Ingrid, I need to hurry” 

He crumples up the letter in his fist and marches off to find you. He searches the entire compound/camp until he’s forced to give up. There was enough trouble already and he was wasting time.

 Needless to say that he’s furious. So much that he rips the note to pieces and tosses it into the fire. It was in the moment...and he regrets it. Those could have been your last words.

Felix blames you for many things beyond that day. Deep down he knows that Fargeus’ loss isn’t your fault, that Dimitri wouldn’t have died if you stayed, that his old man would be just as burdened...

yet he can’t help but use you as a scapegoat. It’s easy for him to hate you when you’re not there to correct him. It’s easy to despise someone who can’t fight back, or is dead. 

Over time the hurt fades to a light burn in his chest, haunting him at night or in his darkest moments. It will appear like a punch in the gut, and linger like the sting of a paper cut. All that pain tied to your name. 

 When he sees Dimitri alive with the professor, Felix is stunned. There might be a chance at regaining his home. Then he scans the group over.

 When he sees you, the pain flares up worse than any blade from the prior battle. Instantly he barrels through the other lions seething with anger and ready to give you hell.

Only to stop when you look his way. With harsh breaths, brows drawn in,and fingernails digging themselves into his palms; he just stands there trembling with raw hatred. No. Not hatred...there’s so much more going on. 

 He watches your lips move yet doesn’t hear any of it. He wants to blame you for everything, but can’t. 

and so he doesn’t. He turns away and stomps off to greet his old professor, and leaves the others to fill you in on the situation It works, and for some time you two don’t speak. He lets the feelings of betrayal fester until one night he forces his way into your room.

“You. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through. What kind of stupid thoughts were you thinking?! A note? Did you seriously think a note would be enough?” 

Ashe:

Ashe. Before I say anything more, please don’t freak out! I know it looks like i’m going awol but I have to do this. I’m not abandoning you, or our friends, or our home; I can’t explain much but know that this is what’s best at least what I hope is best. I love you so, so much. Just trust me on this. It wasn’t an easy choice and you have every right to be upset with me. Heck, even i’m upset with myself for leaving like this. I wish I could take you with me, but you have a role to follow here. Go be the best dang knight I know you’re capable of being. May the goddess keep you safe and sound my love. -(Y/N)

Love letters weren’t your thing. He was always the hopeless romantic and you’d never do something so “sappy”. The letter lain on his cot scared him, but he still opened it. 

He doesn’t know how to feel. Ashe thought that the situation couldn’t become worse, that Fodlan had already been drained of all peace. His home was gone,his father dead, his family’s situation unknown, country in ruins, and the loss of the professor was the topper on the cake. Somehow through it all he still continued to look forward, because he had to. If he gave up, then what? What would he do? 

He had dreams. To become a knight, live out his days serving the people, care for his siblings...and recently a new one tallied onto that list. On nights that his books didn’t put him to sleep he would dream of a family. One of his own, with you. It gave him a goal to look towards when he felt displaced among his peers. 

 He cries after finishing the letter. Ashe doesn’t bother holding anything back as he clutches the note to his forehead to cover his face. Through blurred vision he watches tears smear the ink and panics. He sets it aside on his pillow to protect what’s still in tact. 

“Why? I would have understood. We could have gone together...”

 Which is exactly why you left a note. Ashe knows that you hate to see him upset. After Lanato you would seldom go a day without checking on him...you wouldn’t be able to say no to bringing him. 

Ashe could never convince himself to hate you, and would tell off anyone who even thought of calling you a traitor. To be a knight now had a new meaning to him, it was more than the armor and title . When Fargeus fell he took the future into his own hands and left to join whatever resistance remained. He worked to help those in need, and not once did a day go by where he didn’t think of you. 

Even through all the chaos Ashe worries about the people he cares about. As a student he would think of his siblings, and now he thought of you. 

The hardest part was adapting to being alone...and keeping faith. It’s difficult to convince yourself that everything is okay when it isn’t

There’s a reason Ashe doesn’t frequently talk of his actions amidst those five years. He has done things he is not proud of, and experienced sensations he wouldn’t wish on anyone 

He approached the monestary with little hope of anyone else showing. Only when Gilbert appeared did Ashe become lively. When he saw his highness’ with the professor he was ecstatic...then you appeared 

  and he felt his heart shatter. The arrows knocked themselves as he pushed through to your position on the field. He becomes a bit too overtaken from adrenaline 

“(Y/N)! Y-you’re...you’re alive! Where have you been?!” *que almost being beheaded by an axe*   “ O-oh! Right. Not the time, let’s finish this!”

 Once settled in the monestary again you can find him in his room, looking over the old letter. He’ll wave it in your face with tears pricking his eyes. Ashe isn’t angry in the slightest but all those feelings of abandonment from the day you left resurfaced like new. 

“When you left... I realized that nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.” 

Linhardt:

Lin. I’m certain you already know what I have to say. I won’t ask you to wait for me or give an empty apology. What i’m doing is selfish and I don’t hold any expectations for forgiveness. Albeit I do trust that you will live through this. You’re a tough guy whether you’ll admit to it or not; don’t let your inner sloth dominate over your responsibilities. I know you’ll do the right thing. -(Y/N)

 Linhardt isn’t surprised in the slightest. He admits to not being the most involved boyfriend, but he knew you well. Perhaps more than you know yourself. 

Contrary to everyone else seeing you two as a love-hate partnership, it was far more complex. You’re much more than a personal alarm clock to Linhardt and even in his more infuriating moments(*cough* drifting off during your dates *cough*)you always have his attention 

“*sigh*...and there they go again. Leaving me to clean up their mess”

 He predicted everything down to the last letter. From the moment you both relocated he could see that you were uncomfortable. Signing up for schooling did not equal agreeing to a draft. Linhardt observed the struggle but remained patient for you to approach him. While normally invasive he also respected your boundaries. There were other pressing matters to attend to in addition to both your personal issues. 

He had been delegated to return home until further notice. It didn’t take much to piece together why you had left. With him gone there was no reason to remain, not with the army in its current state. Not when you could possibly be used as leverage or forced to fight on Edelgard’s side. 

 He was smart enough to realize it was only a temporary farewell. 

Linhardt speaks of your departure to no one, and comes up with a stable alibi for when asked.To help indirectly, he tries to stall your missing status report for as long as possible. Your rashness didn’t give much leeway to get the story straight but he managed. It was a bit too troublesome for his liking though. 

 Troublesome, but worth it. You left unscathed and with the only evidence being his letter. Linhardt considered burning it; it was the logical solution after all. You probably expected him to do so after piecing together your coded message. 

 It stays with him, folded up and used as a bookmark for his personal tomes. It is always by his side for safe keeping.

When the reunion day draws near he departs from the estate, only taking his research and some valuables. He may not have foreseen to find the professor or the church duo, but you were anticipated. 

“Well, look who it is. A runaway returned I trust?” 

There is no animosity or sense of tension. He’s just as sassy and you bargained for no less. Like stated before, you both know each other well. He might comment on how you’ve changed or test your knowledge. You know, see if “you’ve slacked off” even though everyone knows he’s far more lax. 

Don’t be fooled though. He may have helped because it was the easiest course of action, but do not expect to pull a stunt like that again. He refuses to wait another five years for a life of peaceful retirement. This is going to end soon so be prepared to act as his stressed out lab assistant again 

[rumandtimes]

Does Cultural Appropriation Apply to Natalie Portman?

Sean Ezersky

Assoc. Fantasy Contributor

Does appropriation apply to the worst parts of European cultures?

Today, I want to discuss cultural appropriation. Yes, the issue of the times. But what exactly is cultural appropriation? Well, nobody knows. Starting at the first word, it claims to be some kind of appropriation. And it has something to do with culture.

Firstly, it should be said that this article has nothing to actually do with cultural appropriation. That is because cultural appropriation is essentially defined by racism. The term first appears, so it goes, as a description of how racist citizens of England marginalised and exploited the peoples of the Caribbean, and attacked sections of the working class schtick, for fun. Sounds evil enough.

The term cultural appropriation cannot be used as a mild term or played around with much, because it is by definition a form of misconduct. The term cultural appropriation is defined by the words “inappropriate,” “racist,” and “commercialist.” There is no redeeming quality to cultural appropriation because cultural appropriation is used to describe exclusively irredeemable activity, markedly opposite to cultural exchange or respect.

Consider the worst perpetrator in the United Kingdom and the United States: hip-hop / rap music, curly hair, or a summer tan. Racists always attack these music genres and human characteristics un-European, placing them into the same box on the fringes of their minds, but at the same time view themselves as ‘cultured’ for dipping into the same music, view themselves as ‘interesting’ for factory curling their hair, or view themselves as ‘unique’ for getting a spray-on tan. There is a murderous and delirious sense of bad irony, that racists altogether marginalise, demonise, and lust after perfectly normal traits and human practices, which the racist calls exotic, for fear of being labelled as freaks themselves. That is cultural appropriation.

Another bad actor is the billion-dollar yoga industry in Western nations as well, which attempts at every corner to steal Indian culture then mutilate the original concept, taking the yoga gurus off the cover and planting in some body-bleaching whores, or some wavy Italian guy, to appeal to the racist American, à la youth female target audience. All the while, Hinduism, inextricable from yoga’s origins while not necessarily the same as yoga in any way, is viewed as a false and inexpiable religion by most people in the West. Yoga was not learned from the Hindu, it was looted, and replaced with a shallow, cruel, commercial, and disgraceful attempt to Europeanise and trivialise the hobby while selling it the crude sex markets. That is a form of cultural genocide and religion-sacking. That is cultural appropriation.

But this article is not about cultural appropriation, in a way. The distinction was only added to please those offended by the comparison. This article is about movies, as part of a series of Star Wars critiques, and it’s about Natalie Portman.

Long have I harboured a question about Natalie Portman’s career, as it is so vapid yet so prolific, so vain yet so ubiquitous. This is just the opportunity. Natalie Portman got her start in acting as a 16-year-old leading actress on Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. She returned three years later as a 19-year-old lead on Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, where her character dies. After moving on from the Star Wars prequels, she used that resume to enrol at Harvard University to study psychology.

She has actually commented on this, as all Harvard associates eventually do, saying she and her peers felt she was only enrolled because she was in Star Wars, and this insecurity led her to push harder than her friends in her classes and challenge herself by picking ‘harder-than-necessary’ classes. Still, psychology is the most common undergraduate degree major among women, so hardly original. Whether or not Natalie invites the assessment or feels it is correct, this is undoubtedly true; She, as most people, never would have been looked at by Harvard if she did not have some kind of bank of riches or wealth of limelight that could be mined by the admissions board. Natalie might want to be viewed as a genius of “Hebrew literature” who stood out among the crowd, but that is just impossible parlour speak. Not that she deserves to go to Harvard any less than anyone else, no one deserves to go to Harvard, as Harvard in the 20th Century existed for the sole purpose of excluding people who were not rich, famous, or connected: not academics, so Natalie’s lie to herself merely parrots Harvard’s lie to the world.

But I want to go back just a second. Yes, Natalie Portman said she studied Hebrew at Harvard, even if not intensely enough to double-major in it. That is because her name is not actually Natalie Portman. Her name is Neta-Li Herschlag, and she is Jewish. So, studying Hebrew isn’t impressive knowing she speaks fluent Hebrew at home. That is not to undermine literature, as English-speakers still study English literature, but it’s hardly extraordinary. Hershlag, as I will now be exclusively referring to her, is using her association to Harvard, Judaism, and other, lesser, things to seem smart, yet all of those were gifted to her by either birth or Star Wars.

Now comes the question of cultural appropriation. Neta-Li started her acting footprint as an understudy for the part of Elle Woods in Broadway plays. Yes, that Elle Woods, aside Britney Spears no less. It hardly seems like the right role for a good Jewish girl. But lo, there are some who might point out that Hershlag is an Ashkenazi, and therefore not actually Jewish, that is, not a Semitic person. This is a touchy subject for the Jewish community, particularly since the establishment of Israel: Who actually is Jewish, by means of ethnicity or heritage, and not just language and religion? Is there a meaningful distinction between the Semitic Jewish culture that remained in the Levant, the Sephardic Jewish culture that emigrated to Africa and Iberia, the Mizrahi Jewish culture in Iran and Arabia, the Yiddish Jewish culture that stuck around in Germany, and the Ashkenazi Jewish culture that settled Eastern Europe? Really, who knows, and that is a deeper question; a question, perhaps, for a student of Hebrew literature, wherever we should find one.

Nonetheless, Hershlag is most certainly not British. That Israeli-American nuance is fine for the world of “Naboo” in Star Wars, which ideally would defy every concept of the term “ethnicity,” but works less congruously for Elle Woods. In Star Wars, Hershlag was a doppelganger of Keira Knightly, a dyad which has persisted the entirety of Netali’s 30-year-long career. Here too, we find questions.

Netali gave an interview, which I discuss almost on a daily basis among my social circle, where she firmly wanted to establish herself as a kind of British legacy. She said, of herself, “I iron out my Jew curls” and bleaches/dyes her hair, for no particular reason other than she wants to, and thinks it will make her fit in. Netali also went on to say that no one has naturally yellow hair — which is true, they don’t — implying that a non-Jewish, European actress would not face the same questions about her hair she did. Because the concept of hair straightening and hair bleaching are Nazi holdovers in British and American culture, and as someone who personally hates Nazis, this endlessly infuriates me. All the more so because Hershlag identifies as Jewish!

If Hershlag thinks modifying her hair to make it look ‘more European,’ or, more correctly (since almost all young Europeans have brown hair), to make it look more Hitlerite, more ‘Arianised,’ is acceptable, then she must either view herself as European first and Jewish second, or just care very little about the legacy of antisemitic racism. Why else would a person who calls herself Jewish want to alter her appearance so drastically, in order to look like a posterchild for one of the Hitler Youth?

Many Jewish-Americans feel pressures of Nazi antisemitism and colonial racism in the United States, and many Ashkenazim respond to that by changing their names, Nazifying their looks, and abandoning the Jewish religion. Netali retains a veneer of her Jewishness on the inside, within her own self-perception, while turning into the Arianised version of the Elle Woods archetype on the outside, for the world to see. Is she just playing a part? Is there a real difference in the personality and values of Netali Hershlag vs. Natalie Portman?

People don’t treat her as such. Keira Knightly, for instance, is an Englishwoman. Knightly claims she is ‘British,’ not English, but she is definitely English. Intriguingly, Knightly never went to school, reportedly a dyslexic, while Hershlag, in the Jewish stereotype, went straight to Harvard College. I wouldn’t say Hershlag seems like a nice person, she seems like an ordinary person. Remember that she is part of the Star Wars pantheon of small-time actors who were lifted by George Lucas to notoriety, like Mark Hamill (despite him being my favourite Star Wars actor, I can never remember his name), Harrison Ford, and of course, Sir Alec Guinness CBE.

Jokes aside, with all the classically-trained, upper-class, heavy-hitters from Britain — Peter Cushing OBE, Sir Christopher Lee CBE, and Sir Alec — not to mention the affable nobodies from Hamill to Ford, most Star Wars people are considered likable, especially by fans of nerdom.

That is not to say anyone was struggling, as every lead character in Star Wars was already documented as rich and famous by the time they were cast, but they were “nobodies” in the sense they were not household names until after the film became one of the first Hollywood summer “blockbusters” in history.

Most of all, it is undeniable that, other than Lucas, no one defined the Star Wars films as much as Carrie Fisher, if not for a want of contrast. Fisher was the only female character in all three of the movies, and both the predecessor and counterpart to Hershlag’s character in the Star Wars prequels. Does Hershlag meet the comparison?

The two are very different, both personally and on-screen. Fisher at the age of 19 had sex with numerous middle-aged members of the cast, often the only female and only teenager in a room of dozens of men, forbidden to wear a bra or choose her own hairstyle but allowed to partake in the rumoured plethora of drugs on the set. Hershlag, part of Star Wars from 16 to 19, was entirely unremarkable, both in life and profession, not a very impressive actor or much of a hoot. Again, the good Jewish girl. Some blame Netali’s poorly role on the weakness of the prequels compared to the originals, just as some blame Carrie’s bipolar diagnosis for her eccentricity. Both of these are half-truths, as personality and talent can never be substituted for anything other than what they are. Nonetheless, Fisher and Hershlag were both made rich and famous. While Hershlag is the lesser in terms of her performance, she probably got in the end a much better long-term deal.

A boring role meant Netali would not be immediately typecast, though she went on to play exclusively the girl-next-door leading female interest for a male protagonist, much the same as in Star Wars: Episode II. Coming into acting younger meant she could largely leave acting after childhood, then return to it later as an adult experience. Moreover, we never got to see teenage Netali chained to a bed in a gold bikini.

Our good, Jewish girl.

So, if Hershlag is playing roles given mostly to British, or Hitlerite, actresses, is she not taking away from the British actor? There are too many actors in the world. They are overexposed and over paid, seen too much and given too much, as they are in the same camp as clowns, entertainers, and comedians. But, people like to be entertained, and in the world of capitalism where only money is worship in lapse of dignity, anything people like sells, and anything that sells can make people rich, and riches are a substitute for class, if only a thin one. Just as the weak-minded can be fooled by the Force, so are they easily bought and sold. The British or American actor suffers for nothing, and there are too many of them as it is.

But, does Hershlag have a place in displacing them, or moulding in to become one of them? And would it be cultural appropriation? Undeniably, Netali is conforming to something objectionable when she plays simple roles as sex objects and Hitlerite women, embracing if not embodying the racism and problematic nature of Hollywood casting. But then again, it is with her very body that she represents this trend. One could defend Hershlag, saying she is made to do these things, that she is not so much appropriating Western culture for her ends, but more so that Western culture is stifling her true self, at least if she wants to continue to have a role in acting.

An interesting counter-point, but undermined by Hershlag’s particular brand of coy self-promotion, and eagerness in taking on such roles. And are the Jewish people entirely exploited by Hollywood? In many respects, so-called Europeans are exploited by powerful Jewish moguls in media more often than the other way around, even if they are Jewish Europeans themselves. Harvey Weinstein, a Jewish millionaire who sexually assaulted non-Jewish Western women in order to get them roles, his Jewishness hardly made a ripple.

The biggest names in Hollywood: Steven Spielberg, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jerry Seinfeld, Paul Rudd, Marta Kauffman, J.J. Abrams, Scarlett Johansson, Harrison Ford, John Stewart, Louis Szekely, Mila Kunis, Daniel Radcliffe, Rachel Weisz, Gal Gadot, Roseanne Barr, Judd Apatow, Marcus Loew, Lauren Bacall, Adam Sandler, Amy Schumer, Larry David, Daniel Day-Lewis, Cassidy Freeman, Stanley Kubrick, Jennifer Connelly, Richard Dreyfuss, Samuel Goldwyn, Julia Garner, Elijah Allan-Blitz, Kirk Douglas, Ellen Barkin, Ingrid Pitt, Darren Aronofsky, Eva Green, David Geffen, Lesley Ann Warren, Paul Newman, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ben Stiller, Louis B. Mayer, Alison Brie, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Chuck Lorre.

As Conan O’Brien jokingly stated: “The Cash-ews run Hollywood.” Almost every major production in Hollywood has a massive Jewish section of development. The United States, for whatever reason, is a majority “Christian-identifying” country, but Judaism plays a much more massive role in the culture than Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism combined. Even most of the agnosticism in ‘progressive’ Hollywood values comes largely from material secularism, or Jewish incredulity of Christianity, not an ideological pull towards atheism. Is this cultural reproachment why Jewish people are pulled towards media and entertainment, theatre being a known haven for outcasts and oddballs? The Judeo-Protestant alliance of the Hollywood ilk would seem to disqualify the established Jewish community — rich, interconnected, secular Jewish communities of New York, Los Angeles, and DC — from being an oppressed mass.

An important editor’s note is that the actors listed are: Jewish people who adopt non-Jewish appearances or non-Jewish values to a borderline-racist degree (i.e. Eva Green: Jewish actress who plays roles bookmarked for non-Jewish Europeans), thoroughly Jewish people who refuse to identify as Jewish (i.e. Julia Louis-Dreyfus: Jewish billionaire heiress who plays Jewish characters on TV), or regular observers of Judaism who are really, really famous (i.e. J.J. Abrams: co-director of the controversial Star Wars reboot).

More often behind the scenes than on-screen, but usually leading the show when taking a starring role, the Jewish imprint is inseparable from American movies, media production, television, the comedy scene, finance, and screenwriting. Is Jewish not the ruling order of Hollywood? And then would Europeans be the group on the margins? But why, if Jewish people write, pay for, and put on the shows, are there so few Jewish actors, and of those who are, why do they not look Jewish, or a better question would be, why do they try to avoid looking Jewish, and actively attempt to look Western European? That gives the impression that Jewish people are still marginalised in media, even if they are overrepresented in media, and generally more affluent, interconnected, and educated than those non-Jewish counterparts. Why do Jewish people go out of their way to appeal to racist audiences, and in the process erase their own Jewishness.

Maybe it is because the Hollywood Jewry isn’t actually Jewish. Nothing about their jobs or their behaviours embodies the Jewish religion. Most people in Hollywood in general consider themselves as nonreligious, yet that too, might be an influence of a markedly Jewish trait. Non-Christians in the United States are much more likely to turn to atheism and agnosticism on the one hand or fanatical extremism, likely due to being outcast by the mainstream Protestant dialogue, with liberal Jewish people often going agnostic and conservative Catholics often going supercharged while Muslims live on somewhere off in the shadows of public perception.

Yet nonreligious Jewish people still identify as Jewish, separating the religion of Judaism from the ethnic mark. Faith has nothing to do with appearance, and appearance is the base of antisemitism. Enter non-Jewish-looking Jewish people, usually women with heat-flattened hair, like Netali Hershlag and Gal Greenstein Godot. That is not to say they don’t look Jewish, as in an equal measure they all do and at the same time no one does, since what a Jewish person “looks like” is a narrow heuristic based on problematic cultural expectation. That is not to say they are or aren’t Jewish. But are Jewish people like Natalie Portman being forced to conform to racist society, or are they jumping on the bandwagon of racist society and using it to their advantage? Is there actually a difference between the two?

There is a deeper question lying beneath the surface here: The questions of “Jewish complicity in racism?,” “Jewish participation in neo-Nazism?,” and “If ‘Jew’ is a ‘race’ and ‘White’ is a ‘race’ then why are there ‘White’ and ‘non-White’ Jews?,” which other people have asked before. This article is not to address those questions, but they are acknowledged.

Certainly, there are some Jewish people who attach themselves to racist tendencies and Hitlerite habits out of personal advantage in the racist countries in which they might live. In this narrative, the notional collaborator Jewish community would blame the Europeans for racism and cast themselves as convenient survivors. That is not a uniquely Jewish trait, it is a flawed human trait, bystanderism, which defies religious teachings. Why there is such a prevalence among rich, secular Jewish people, of racism mixed with liberalism, is a concern. It could be as simple that, at a certain point, the trait “rich” might start to cancel out the trait “religious.” Old guard antisemites would be unforgiving regarding hatred towards ‘ethnic Judaism,’ and contemporary racist sentiments would reject Jewish people from the points of heritage and beliefs, but it is not immediately clear if Western neo-Nazis would target non-religious Jewish people who, quote, “pass” as Euro-Christians.

If Ashkenazim, Sephardim, and Mizrahim join Western cultures, ideals, and appearances while abandoning the Jewish religion, are they functionally Jewish at all? In the absence of different brands of generational antisemitism, what is holding back an atheist Ashkenazi from becoming a Nazi themself? The Jewish community and Israel critics have been ablaze with debate about the Eurocentric, Ashkenazim-focused account of Judaism in the West, drawing attention to the issue of inter-Jewish racism and inequality among the diaspora of the Jewish faithful. This question is debated separately for Jewish communities because unity is their faith. Followers of Christianity have always cut one another down over heresies and infidelities, but discourse and diversity have defined the post-Rabbinic tradition. The notion of one Jewish diaspora being more powerful than another, based not even on secularism such as in Christianity, but based solely on racism and adjacency to Christian empires, causes non-Ashkenazi Jewish communities to question that proximity in values and appearance Western Ashkenazi populations have with the goyish counterparts. Even the terms Ashkenazi and Mizrahi have taken fundamentally racist connotations, particularly in the advent of Zionism, to separate the ‘European Jewish’ from the ‘Arabian Jewish,’ in a kind of wartime apartheid of academia; a conflict emblematic of larger paradoxes in modern Israel.

This is not the focus of this article. Obviously, Jewish people living in Western Europe and urban America are more “Western” than people who live somewhere else. And obviously, Western nations have a serious and prolonged issue with racism. However, welding those two facts together, then conflating them with Judaism in some sense, would be a mistake.

There are some racist people in Hollywood who identify as, or are identified as, Jewish. That is not the question. The question is: How does the concept of cultural appropriation contribute to that complex dynamic, of conformity and exploitation in Hollywood, even amongst the big names?

This all comes back to the perceptual balance of power. Just as the term cultural appropriation is defined as a group being in a oppressive position and exploiting something that that group itself has made derogatory.

Is Netali Hershlag appropriating Western culture? In a way, yes. As a rich, powerful Jewish actress, she could hardly be said to be put at a disadvantage to Keira Knightly (Harvard versus dropout, remember), or the millions of aspiring brown-haired actresses who are shunned from Hollywood castings. And yet, she decides to look more like them. Obviously, as an ordinary woman herself, she has been victim to the usual sexism and obsessive demands of producers and directors concerning appearances, but that is hardly so say she is a victim. At any moment, she could deign to take a different part or produce her own movies (I would balk to call them films), rather than be typecast as the sexy and innocent girl-next-door. She lives the life of the good Jewish, girl, but never takes on those types of roles, opting instead for Princess Amidala, ballerina Nina Sayers, valley girl Elle Woods, comic book Jane Foster, or Englishwoman Anne Boleyn. Hershlag could at any moment leave acting to climb the ladder a Harvard A.B. clears the way for. How could Harvard Law School, or subsequently the California Democratic caucus, say no? Who wouldn’t pay for a doctor’s visit with the woman from V For Vendetta?

This is not to say that Jewish people are appropriating or imposing themselves upon Westerners, but it is to say that there is a distinct group of Jewish people who draw from Western or Hitlerite practices while entirely avoiding ‘Juden-haus’ or ‘Euro-trash’ rhetoric that hampers people on both sides of the racist conflict. Portman is Netali’s grandmother’s name, so she does have some kind of loose claim to it, if her cousins are still go by that name and she is close with them, while Natalie is a form of the name Neta-Li, and plenty if not most actors use stage names. Many people do racist or questionable things because they are in fashion. But altogether, one must ask the question why the self ascribed curly-haired Netali Hershlag is appearing is French wig and makeup commercials. Is it raw, unidealistic money? Is it Maybelline? Or it is fake hair, fake lashes, and a fake identity?

Natalie Portman is hardly an inspiring figure for women, playing roles subservient to men, often murdered by her lovers or terribly afflicted herself. This is true in Star Wars, Black Swan, Thor, V For Vendetta, and when she played the wife of wife-killer Henry VIII. Where is the liberty in being bedded by an uxoricidal maniac, be it a tired British period piece, or the obsessive Anakin Skywalker? Body modification of any type is not the product or respect or exchange, and can only be looked down upon as unnecessary and insecure. Acting is lying, but that does not mean the actress must change their looks or change their self to read some lines to a camera.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark  /  remove it with the kiss of a knife  /  even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

[hbosscreations]

Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

It’s a little later than I’d hoped for, but here is my contribution to @redvsbluesecretsanta for @artesoterica! You asked for Southalina, with a general positive mood! This fic is an AU taking place on Season 15′s Chorus moon in a universe where the Reds and Blues actually get to rest and build a life for themselves. I hope you like it.

                                   Us Ladies Have to Stick Together

 When South heard Carolina’s coded message, left in such a way that any of her former people would find it if they were looking, she…didn’t really know what to expect. She wasn’t certain it was meant for her with the way South left things, what with her and Wash trying to kill one another, but it was so damn earnest that South couldn’t ignore it.

‘Wash and I are alive, we’ve shut down the Project and made a safe space for all of us to live. If you see this, come find us. Come home.’

She wasn’t keen at first on going to find anyone, let alone other members of Project Freelancer, but Carolina was good on her word Chorus’s moon wasn’t what she thought it would be. It sounded like isolation, like hiding in a long-abandoned base or in a tiny apartment sleeping in shifts, but Carolina and her people had turned it to something else entirely. The Reds and Blues regularly communicated with the planet below, a shuttle came up more than once to drop off and pick-up soldiers for no reason South could figure out aside from play dates with weapons.

Just like this one.

A shuttle had arrived earlier that day carrying a new face along with a few others that South recognized from the deliveries every other week. The Sim Troopers had quite the fan club, and it was very normal for the shuttle to arrive and stay overnight so the troops could hang out. This time, the newcomer seemed to get all of the attention. It was such a relief to not feel the pointed stares from both the Reds and Blues and the Chorus soldiers.

South blew up her bangs and retied the bandana around her head to keep her hair out of the way while she worked on Sarge’s warthog, the perfect vantage point to observe without staring and be present without having to actually interact with anyone. The Sim Troopers weren’t as bad as South expected them to be most days, Washington’s influence excluded, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with them yet.

The strange woman who arrived in the shuttle, wearing bright yellow armor and a swagger that told everyone who saw her that she was hot shit and she knew it, immediately screamed for Grif to get his lazy butt outside and come help move her shit inside the base.

It didn’t take long for her to start chatting and then chasing the Sim Troopers around. She hooted and hollered and pelted the soldiers with paintballs from a gun that should not have been shooting paintballs in the first place, all the while crowing ‘GO BLUE!’.

Despite the fact she didn’t seem to care if she was hitting a Red or a Blue.

Judging by the yelling and giggles, they didn’t seem to mind it either.

South’s helmet was dropped next to her on the engine while she watched, contemplating if she had earned enough good will to join in considering practically everyone on the moon was playing already, and Carolina put a hand on South’s shoulder to draw her attention.

New Carolina was the day to Old Carolina’s night. More emotionally mature, more secure in herself, and more confident. The dark shadows had finally passed, but she was still the same woman South had served under.

“You should probably put that on. It would be horrible if Kai accidentally shot you in the eye; the only medical treatment you’re likely to get is CPR and orange juice.”

The hand shifted from her shoulder and brushed the back of her neck. South barely held in her shiver.

New Carolina was more tactile, taking the time to make contact outside of training. She always had time for a smile, something kind to say even if the comment was odd, and casual touching that felt out of place coming from her former leader.

South had to admit that it was nice to be appreciated, though.

“Which army is Kai from, Fed or New Republic? I don’t recognize her or the paint job.”

“She’s the youngest of our Sims, Grif’s little sister, not from Chorus.”

The Reds looked to have begun their retaliation, pulling out buckets of paint, paint balloons, and paint ball guns of their own. They ran around screaming with her instead of running from her, and South laughed a little.

“They’re like a bunch of goofy teenagers, aren’t they? I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep them all alive so long.”

She pulled her helmet on, ignoring the fact that most of her armor was on the ground. She could handle paintball welts and didn’t feel like trading the extra protection of the armor for the contact she got when Carolina watched her work. Standing just a little too close, with her hand on South’s lower back, it felt like things were actually right.

“She’s going to be staying.”

The warthog got regular work, practically daily maintenance and fine tuning, but for some reason it felt like everything South did to it was undone at the end of the day.

“Hmm.”

“She talks a lot, but you can’t be mean unless you want the Reds and Blues both mad at you. Grif is really protective of her; they all are.”

Knowing Sarge, it probably was. He probably came in as soon as she walked away and fiddled with it, bickering with Lopez as he used a wrench on the wrong pieces and broke screwdrivers inside.

“South? Are you listening to me?”

“Sure, Yellow is a wild child and I shouldn’t pick on her. The Sims don’t talk to me much, why would I bother with Grif’s little sister?”

Was Lopez doing this? Normally he fixed things, but maybe he resented her coming in and doing his job for him. It did prevent him from avoiding the rest of Red Team.

“South, will you stop for a second? Look at me?”

Shit. South must have missed a tone thing again, it happened sometimes. Between the military and being on her own for so long, South didn’t always know how to read casual conversation anymore. She preferred direct conversation any day.

“I’m worried about you.”

That flash of guilt that flared up any time Carolina wanted to take care of her was back.

“You don’t have to worry about me, I’m coping.”

“You’re stagnating. Soon you’re going to start tearing your hair out and alienating the guys because you’re bored and looking for stimulation. Trust me, antagonizing the Reds and Blues will only lead to problems and you do not want that. I care about you and I would hate for you to end up with mustard in your blankets or a bucket of snakes above your door. Let me introduce you to Kaikaina Grif.”

“I don’t understand what meeting her has got to do with antagonizing anybody or the strangely bizarre and specific pranks.”

“You’re bored, and Kai is definitely not boring. I think spending some time with her will be good for you.”

Carolina didn’t accept Wash and South tiptoeing around one another or South trying to sneak out in the middle of the night because of her insomnia, and she apparently wasn’t going to rest until South had made some friends, even if that meant flying friends in for her.

The hand on her neck started to massage gently, feeling the tension that had settled there. South let out a groan.

“You’re what? Assigning her to me?”

“Oh no, Kai’s been a Blue longer than you’ve been here, she outranks you. I’m assigning you to her.”

“What?”

Carolina called out to Kai and waved her in before she firmly turned South to face the Sim Trooper charging at them. The moment the woman in yellow skidded to a stop in front of them, she took a beat to look South up and down before she turned and did the same to Carolina.

“Carolina, lookin’ fine-ah! Still bangin’ as always! How are the jam sessions with the band?”

“They have yet to comment on my being tone deaf and I’m not spoiling the game, so it’s been fun. Kai, this is South, she’s an old friend of mine in need of someone to teach her how to have a good time. Can you do that?”

“Ch, yeah! I am great at fun!”

“Fantastic. Kai, from now on, South follows your orders the way she used to follow mine. She won’t like it, she’ll bitch, but she’s a great soldier and a good friend to have at your back.”

“If you want a knife put in it.”

Washington came around the warthog, a large splash of red down his left side and a steady spattering of blue on the right. He must have gotten caught in the middle of the fight.

“Hey, Kai. What’s up?”

“Hey, Cop. You still being a cop? You have to tell me, you know!”

“That’s still not a law.”

That easy amused tone shook South. He sounded so much older; more world weary. It fit him.

“Washington,” Carolina bit out, “If you’re not going to play nice, go away.”

He saluted, patted Kai on the shoulder, and moved back into the fray. The soldiers cheered as he snagged a balloon and smashed it into the side of Tucker’s head.

“Anyway, Kai, South is my gift to you. Think of her like you’ve just been given a very angry puppy and you’ll be great.”

“Carolina, you cannot be serious.”

“I am very serious; you need someone to help you transition to our way of life and Kai is the best person to do that. Kai, her job is to do what you tell her, your job is to keep her from going off the deep end. Don’t order anything I wouldn’t approve of, but other than that, go nuts.”

South scowled at the thought of a woman at least ten years younger than her, a stranger, issuing orders. She didn’t exactly have a choice but to go on with it, where else was she going to go?

“This is ridiculous.”

And it’s not like she wanted to leave anyway. Not again. Not after everything she’d gone through to get there.

Not after finally getting her chance to be with Carolina again.

“I’m not your commanding officer anymore. You could always say no, but if that’s the case I’m giving you to the Reds, and their chaos is unbridled. Think of it this way, Donut will do your nails, but Kai excels at doing hair and your purple has been missing for too long.”

South shrugged and Kai immediately dragged her toward the base.

“You’re the one with purple tips, right? I’ve seen the pics. We’re doing your hair right now. I know that you haven’t had a dye job since you got here, there’s no one here that does hair even half as good as me!”

She jabbered endlessly while she set up a chair at the big sink on the base. Her steady stream of increasingly weird stories about herself and her sex life made South laugh, and the commentary about the guys on base made South sure she never wanted to get on this girl’s bad side.

Once they were gone, Carolina wheeled a large box into the room.

“Your portable salon, madame. Don’t scare her off, ok? It took forever to bring her home.”

“Pshaw! She likes me already! Don’t you, baby?”

Both women looked at South and she shrugged.

“You’re fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to work.”

“I’ll take that as a win for now! You’ll warm up.”

With that, Kai pushed South into the chair and threw a cape around her shoulders. Kai’s hands were sturdy and soothing as they carded through South’s hair and scratched at her scalp, talking about what she thought would look best for a minute before she realized South wasn’t listening in the slightest and switched back to talking about herself again. How she’d wanted to go to beauty school when she was younger, and that she used to do everyone’s hair at the circus. South only half listened.

God, her fingers were like magic.

South melted into the chair and decided to let the woman have her way with her hair. Worst case scenario, South would shave her head and let it grow back. And it was worth it to have her hair ruined if Kai would just keep working on her hair.

“She’s funny, right?”

South made a questioning noise.

“Carolina. She shows her love weird. She’s been trying for weeks now to get me out here, telling me Grif misses me, that the team is trying to set up a training center here. Didn’t fly, cause that sounds awful, so she talked to the freaking president of Chorus and got me a training gig putting together events and festivals on the planet’s surface. Someone decided they needed events for good public relations and off world traffic, and I’m pretty good at it!”

Carolina laughed a little from where she was pointedly not hovering.

“She got you a job, huh?”

“She got me a good paying job where my brother can keep an eye on me, so he’s happy. From there, it’s like a waterfall, making him happy makes Simmons happy, which makes Donut and Sarge happy, which makes Caboose happy, which makes Tucker happy, which makes Wash happy, which makes Carolina happy. Everyone here is sooooo codependent. You, I don’t know about, but that’s ok. We’re gonna party and I’ll learn all your secrets.”

God, the thought of going to the planet’s surface to ‘party’ made South’s whole body tense up. Way too much exposure, to high a risk of being seen.

“I don’t really party these days.”

“Yeah, I figured. I’ll fix that. Once I get you sorted, Carolina can finally stop worrying about her little circle and relax. Anything you want in particular? Because if you don’t, I’m gonna trim you up and give you crazy purple hair, it’s gonna take some time, but it’ll look fabulous.”

“I’m in your hands, gorgeous.”

“You’re a flirt! I like that.”

South did her best to keep up the chatting, thankful that Kai held the majority of the conversation herself, and when she might have lulled, Carolina stepped in and stoked the conversation back up.

She did the whole nine yards; washed South’s hair, massaged her scalp, trimmed her up to something more akin to her preferred style, bleached her hair for coloring and mixed colors. South honestly didn’t give a shit about what Kai did, so she gleefully went to town.

Once she started putting color on, Carolina frowned.

“You’re doing her whole head?”

“I have creative license here, so yeah, I’m doing her whole head! It’s gonna be fucking badass, just you wait!”

Carolina pulled up a chair and sat across from South with a nervous smile and stretched her leg out to brush ankles with South. South smiled back and tapped Carolina with the side of her boot. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t want or need to.

Kai wasn’t wrong, Carolina did show her love in weird ways. She never said it, but she showed it in a thousand different ways. South watched Carolina work with the Reds and Blues every day, watched her interact with the people from Chorus who flew up to the moon to ‘train’, how she took the time to touch and ground the people around her despite her own discomfort with the process.

How she understood that South needed help and care but was too angry and proud to ever ask for it.

“I trust you, Kai, just don’t make her look like a clown.”

“I would never! This gorgeous face can pull all kinds of looks, and I intend to make her look fucking sexy as fuck! Chill, Carolina, I’m not going to mess your other girlfriend’s look up.”

South tried to look up at Kai, confused, but Kai grabbed South’s head and held it in place.

“Don’t move, you’ll ruin my hard work.”

Carolina laughed a little and rubbed her ankle against South’s and asked Kai about her most recent exploits. South just closed her eyes and listened to the women talk.

The color was washed out, her hair blow dried and style, and with a cheeky grin, Kai shoved a mirror into South’s face.

“Well?”

It looked…good.

Her head was covered multiple tones of purples, blues, and reds, in a way that looked like it shouldn’t have worked, but it really did. Dark and bold, her hair felt soft and fell nicely. Honestly, it was too good for the life South lived. Between helmet time and working on trucks, she was sure she wouldn’t do it justice in the long run.

But Carolina looked really happy, and judging by Kai’s bright smile, she was too.

“You like it, right?”

“Don’t push her.”

South smirked.

“She can push me if she wants, you’re the one who told her to boss me around. I like it.”

“Great!” Kai crowed. “We’re gonna get our nails done tonight, no fighting, I brought Donut a new gel kit and he’s dying to use it!”

Carolina stood up and pressed a kiss to Kai’s cheek and praised her for a job well done, before she kiss to South’s cheek as well.

“I’m glad you like it. Kai’s great, you to are going to get along like a house on fire.”

“Uh, I’m not lighting anything on fire.”

South hadn’t expected anything good when she came here, came home, but everything was genuinely better than she expected. Carolina took her hand and kissed the knuckles before idly telling Kai that she hoped they’d also brought decent alcohol because Donut’s wine and cheese hour was dreadful without actual wine to drink.

She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t known how badly she wanted it, but she was so glad she’d come.

[sortinghatchats]

On Slytherin Primaries

Slytherins believe in the importance of taking care of their own. Everyone else is a person, but so are they, so a Slytherin’s job, before everything else, is taking care of them and theirs. This makes what Slytherin are known for, their ambition and ruthlessness, stand out strikingly even while a Slytherin’s core is not inherently selfish or cut-throat.

All of the Houses contain people with great ambitions and great desire for accomplishment and the furthering of their goals. Gryffindors will take on the world to do what they think is right, and are willing to make sacrifices and overrule those who would compromise on what needs to be done, and that’s nothing if not ambition. What makes the Slytherin ambition stand out so significantly is that it’s seen as a selfish ambition, and a guiltlessly selfish one at that. That drive is tied to personal achievement instead of idealistic achievement, and that makes it easier to point at. 

But this is key: selfish ambition is idealistic ambition for a Slytherin. A Slytherin’s first priority is to their loved ones not because they love deeper or harder than the other Houses (they don’t), but because it is wrong to betray or abandon your people and right to defend and promote them. Loyalty and defense of your own is an inherent part of the Slytherin morality.

A Slytherin does not generally feel guilty for valuing themselves, for taking time for their own mental or physical health, or for sacrificing other things for the safety and happiness of the people they love. They might feel vulnerable, or judged, or guilty for not feeling guilty, especially if they live in the kind of family or culture where humility and self sacrifice are seen as the greatest goods– but without watching eyes and the words of peers and authority figures bouncing around their skulls, a Slytherin would feel comfortable and even validated in the idea that they have both a right and duty to take care of their own selves before anything or anyone else. 

An exception to this is a Slytherin who’s managed to kick themselves out of their inner circle. For whatever reason, they don’t feel like they deserve their own help or kindnesses. Their “me and mine” priorities are still apparent but now it’s only “mine.” They fiercely and selflessly prioritize the individuals they love, value, or feel responsible for, while excluding their own self. A Slytherin like this can look somewhat like a Hufflepuff Primary, erring towards selflessness, but take a look at how they prioritize between their best friend v. a stranger in need. If they feel guilty for abandoning the stranger, they’re probably a Puff; Slytherins feel desperately like they owe things to their people, but they don’t feel like they owe people in general. (Also keep an eye out for a Burned Hufflepuff in this example, though– a Slytherin wouldn’t care strongly about not helping the stranger, except for general empathetic tickles; a Hufflepuff would be survivably eaten up inside; a Burned Puff would force themselves not to care because it’s the only practical thing). 

Not prioritizing their own would feel wrong to a Slytherin. It would feel selfish, and might feel like giving into social pressures instead of standing up for what matters to them. This can hold true emotionally even when logically, prioritizing you and yours is not the best thing to do. In The Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen, a Slytherin Primary who only wants her family to be safe, almost runs away from her place as an important political symbol on the chance that she and her loved ones could make it on their own, hiding from the capitol. She doesn’t– but she really wants to, and when things go wrong she feels guilty for not acting to put her loved ones first. 

Canonical Basis

Individual loyalty is something tied to Slytherins in the books and movies, but isn’t something that gets focused on. “Or perhaps in Slytherin you’ll make your real friends,” the Sorting Hat says in the song from Harry’s first year. It doesn’t explicitly use the loyal like it does for Hufflepuff, but that’s consistent because often, Slytherins don’t look loyal. If you’re not one of their most important people, who you can often count on one hand, they’re not particularly loyal. Loyalty doesn’t have an inherent worth for Slytherins the way it does for Hufflepuffs. Loyalty is less given and more earned.

And we have canonical examples of Slytherin loyalty, extreme and dramatic as it is. Slytherin loyalty is Narcissa Malfoy abandoning her Dark Lord for the sake of her son. Slytherin loyalty is the way Pansy Parkinson freaks out every time something injures Draco, and the way she was willing to sacrifice Harry to save herself and her friends (and the way she expected other people to agree with that judgement call). 

It’s Slughorn’s guiltless willingness to distance himself from Dumbledore’s war–until old Dumbly gave him a reason to risk his own precious skin. It’s Snape, unwilling to let go of Lily Potter even after decades have passed and her son has grown up an orphan; even when there is nothing still to gain from holding onto his loyalty to her, and even when he hates her son. 

Moving outside of canon (because there are nearly no positive descriptions of Slytherins with canon– Narcissa is a bigot, Pansy a bully, Slughorn a spineless creep, Snape a child abuser): 

Slytherin is Ender Wiggin going back to Battle School not to save the world but because his sister asked him to, and Bean going to Battle School because he could get an education there that would save himself and then staying to save Ender. Slytherin is Pepper Potts telling Tony that, to hell with the world, he needs to take care of himself first. It’s Andrea from The Walking Dead pulling a gun on the people who try to get between her and her sister’s body. It’s Toph Beifong not giving any fucks except that hey, Twinkle Toes needs her. It’s Briar Moss of Circle of Magicplunging into death itself, refusing to let Rosethorn go. 

Where Molly Weasley, in HP canon, weeps but drops her son Percy when he turns on them for the Ministry, blood purist and loyal daughter of House Black Narcissa Malfoy betrays the Dark Lord and saves Harry Potter for Draco’s sake. As the final, epic battle of good and evil culminates and commences in Hogwarts, Narcissa takes her family and she disappears. The ideals of her war were only her priority until her son was in direct danger. 

Slytherin v. Hufflepuff

Slytherin and Hufflepuff are the two Loyalist Primaries. People, and not ideals, are at the core of their judgement calls. But where Hufflepuffs tend to bond to groups, Slytherins bond with individuals.

Slytherin Primaries are horrified to see someone let down a friend. To turn on a loved one for words as insubstantial as truth or justice or the greater good feels like a very particular kind of madness. Sure that’s what you’re supposed to do, a Slytherin might say, but that’s not what you actually want, is it? Your person is right here. They are real, and they are breathing, and they need you, and they are yours. It’s an extreme Slytherin who would let the whole world burn for the sake of a friend, but every Slytherin Primary would be at the very least tempted.

We discuss in the Hufflepuff Primary post how when someone is dropped from a Hufflepuff’s group of “people,” it is a dramatic fall into becoming a dehumanized “thing.” This Hufflepuff dehumanization can take many forms– outsiders, “other”ing people, having strong beliefs in the justification behind more institutionalized types of exclusion like racism, sexism, classism. But it’s a divide where there are people who are people, and then there are people who are not-people. 

The Slytherin divide is very different. There is no mechanism inherent to the Primary that removes someone of their personhood. Rather, they are removed of their status. There is a possessive drive to Slytherin, and while that varies in intensity across different individuals, it puts the divide on the basic line of “mine” and “not mine.” We find it helpful to talk about it in terms of being in someone’s inner circle, but it’s not usually that binary. Like it is with everyone, loyalty comes in a gradient. 

But Slytherin’s loyalty is more selective than the other Houses’. Where a Hufflepuff extends some initial degree of loyalty on the basis of your being a person, with a Slytherin any loyalty you gain is earned from the bottom up; you start at 0. 

A Decided House

But when the major part of your moral system that you feel viscerally is to protect yourself and your people, there are a lot of gaps in how you interact with the world and with moral situations. What do Slytherins do when confronted with gross wrongs like slavery, like murder, like unjust war–wrongs that don’t touch their people? It depends on the Slytherin. But this is why we count a Slytherin as a Decided house along with Ravenclaw, despite the core of their moral system being very much felt. 

Some Slytherins simply don’t care–they opt out of the moral complications of the rest of the world and what touches other people and choose a contented apathy about the things that don’t intrude on their space– but other Slytherins construct ways to interact with these situations. 

Perhaps they do so by understanding that other people have connections as strong and important as their own, or by building something more complex. Sometimes Slytherins can build systems that look like Ravenclaw systems– systems based on observational data, on adopted systems, or by keeping the moral guidance that they were taught growing up. The defining difference between these constructed additional Slytherin systems and the Ravenclaw Primary system is that the Slytherins are aiming for function and don’t have the same drive for truth. It matters much less if the system they build is true than if it is functional. The system should optimize for what they care about and what makes them happy, but this moral code is not viscerally driving like a Slytherin’s desire to protect those closest to them. 

Some Slytherins latch specifically on to the morality of their most important person (or people), either because they trust them or because they value them. Samwise Gamgee, the loyal hobbit who follows Frodo through hell and back, adopts Frodo’s system. Sam does great good, bravely and well, but he does it, “For Mr. Frodo! For the Shire! And for my Gaffer!” Jeff Winger from Community also sometimes follows this pattern, absorbing the moralities of his study group and best friends. Both these characters are, to put it simplistically, wearing bracelets that read “What Would Mr. Frodo Do?” and “What Would The Study Group Do?” etc. For Jeff, it’s a bit more because Annie will pout at him if he’s doesn’t at least try. 

Aang, from Avatar the Last Airbender, builds himself a stunning replica of his beloved deceased father figure Gyatso’s ethical system and he lives in it all his life. Latching onto a parental figure or early (sometimes, in media, deceased) influence’s morality is a form of love common for young Slytherins. Train Heartnet of Black Cat (who Saya changes so completely), Kai of Korra (who takes in Jinora’s culture like it’s his own morality), and Edward Cullen of Twilight (who takes Carlisle’s pacifism to self-hating extremes), are all examples of that. 

Alternatively, a Slytherin might spend a lot of their time living in a Primary model–it might matter deeply to them to do good and right. If they have that drive for truth, they might have a Ravenclaw Primary model as opposed to just a Slytherin’s functional construction. They might also have a Gryffindor Primary or a Hufflepuff Primary model. They could even have a Slytherin Primary model– but one that is loyal and dedicated to a larger group of people, like a whole peer group, the population of a whole city, or even humanity in general. (This can look a bit like a Hufflepuff– one major visible difference is that particularly Slytherin sense of possessiveness.) They could live in that model for all conflicts and decisions that are separate from and non-threatening toward their most important people and be very functional with that. 

MCU’s Tony Stark is an example of this type. (He’s also an example of a Slytherin who has kicked himself out of his own inner circle). He is a Slytherin Primary dedicated to Pepper and Rhodey (and, as of Avengers 2, he’s likely coming to value the other Avengers this way), but he has built a driving model to allow him to interact ethically with the rest of the world. It is this model that drives Iron Man and his sustainability and charity projects. This model (we think it’s probably Gryffindor Primary) is likely also what will drive him to one side or the other in Civil War. As long as Pepper or one of his own is not in direct danger (though the danger to himself is irrelevant), Tony will act firmly in service of his model. 

But dropping that model in order to stand by someone you love, or in order to protect yourself, doesn’t feel like a failing. Sticking to that modelled morality at the expense of betraying or abandoning one of their own would make a Slytherin feel guilty and wrong. Being able to put the things and concepts you like aside for the sake of the people who need you feels more righteous than any moral posturing. It feels practical and it feels right, just as strongly as a Gryffindor Primary’s internal moral compass points them. 

It’s a people based system, but it’s still an intuitive model of right and wrong. Betraying your own is the worst kind of crime. Loyalty is precious and terrible; it makes you vulnerable. It’s given sparingly, deeply, and a Slytherin will stand by their loyalties through the same death and fire that a Gryffindor would brave for the sake of doing the right thing, or a Hufflepuff to help someone in need.

In the same vein, when a Slytherin realizes that someone else doesn’t put the same value on the people they profess loyalty to, they might react similarly to a Gryffindor realizing that morality isn’t intuitive to everyone. Some things are just wrong, a Gryffindor might protest. But they’re your child–your spouse–your friend, a Slytherin will cry, confused and unsettled. How could you?

Petrified or Burned Slytherin

While there are certainly Slytherin Primaries who don’t care about any people who aren’t theirs, many Slytherins, especially ones who enjoy being more social, have wide circles of friends and acquaintances; people they will go out of their way to help, and whose company they enjoy, whose confidence they trust (to a point). What defines a Slytherin is not a lack of these concentric circles, but rather how sharply those lines of stratification are drawn. Wanting to help someone doesn’t mean you’re loyal to them. Wanting to help them at the expense of your comforts, your values, your commitments and sometimes even your self–that does. 

You end up with Slytherin Primaries on both ends of the spectrum: ones who have decided that a huge group of people are “theirs” (to the extreme of: the world is my responsibility and I have bonded to every single individual contained in it), and ones who have decided that they themselves are not one of their most important people, but maybe a friend or lover is. 

You can also get Slytherins whose only important person is themselves. This can be done healthily, especially for short periods of times, but when it’s driven by a fear of those close attachments, it becomes a phenomenon we call the Burned or Petrified Slytherin. 

The Petrified Slytherin is a Slytherin who has no inner circle and no plans to get one. Whether through death, betrayal, abandonment (from either side), or through never having had any to begin with, the Petrified Slytherin has decided that having important people is too dangerous. Having those strong ties leaves you open to pain and weakness, and the pleasure of those connections aren’t worth the despair that comes from their seemingly inevitable loss. In this way, they close themselves off to meaningful connections out of what is ultimately fear (though from the inside, it’s far more likely to be experienced as a rational, sensible decision given the circumstances of the world), and gives them a stony exterior that seems impenetrable, resolute, and cold. 

Even when not Petrified, though, the Slytherin Primary often seems cold. This comes not from any actual inherent coldness, but because they often show their warmth only to their inner circle. This is hugely influenced by your other houses, especially when you get the warmth of the Hufflepuff Secondary involved, or have a warm model– but even then, there is a special and somewhat exclusive kind of warmth saved for those who are held the closest. 

A Slytherin Primary in our system is defined first and foremost by the intensity and priority of their loyalties to individual people, however few or many. And the way to break a Slytherin– whether you’re stopping their plans or crushing their will– is to either take away their people or to threaten to. Narcissa betrays Voldemort, fully aware of what that could mean for the safety of herself and her husband, because Draco was more important than anyone or anything. Azula of Avatar the Last Airbender, for all her coldness and lack of mercy, does what she does because she wants desperately to be loved and accepted by her father. When Annabeth, his friends, or his mother are threatened, Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson loses all other priorities– his canonical fatal flaw is that he would let the world burn to save a friend. Nothing brings out the fierceness in a Slytherin like getting in between them and their loved ones.

To a Slytherin the inner circle of close loyalties is likely to be a much smaller number than the people they care about and consider friends. A petrified Slytherin is therefore not necessarily someone who is friendless, or who has no social ties, or who lacks affection for people. It’s not even a Slytherin without some sort of a hierarchy of important people.

A petrified Slytherin is a Slytherin who has decided, either consciously or not, that letting people into that inner circle– devoting themselves to someone with that deep, thoughtless Narcissa-type or Azula-type loyalty– is too dangerous. It’s too terrifying. When someone is that close, they become a huge risk. They might die, or you they might stop loving you, or stop liking you, or something awful might happen to them and it might be your fault. Something awful might happen to you because someone might threaten your people and use them against you, and you would be helpless. If you couldn’t find a way to maneuver through the situation, you would have to do whatever was demanded of you to keep your people safe, because nothing would be worse than losing them and having it be your own fault.

Surviving a situation like that (losing someone or having their lives used as collateral against you) is one of the ways we see Petrification often happen. 

Not all Slytherins will Petrify in such a situation– Finnick from The Hunger Games, a Slytherin Primary whose only people are Mags and Annie, has resisted Petrifying even when there are good arguments that it would be a far more adaptive thing to do. The Capitol’s only way of controlling him is by threatening to hurt the people he loves, and even after Mags is killed, he stays resolutely attached to Annie. It gives him the strength to carry on, but is also the weakness that the Capitol is exploiting. If Annie died, Finnick would be very likely to Petrify.

Bean, in Ender’s Shadow, is a Petrified Slytherin for most of the book. He likes people, and sometimes idolizes people, but their main purpose in his life is the utility of them. His connections are a cold, logical thing, closer to an alliance than to a friendship, and often not mutually so. Bean is interesting because we never see the Petrification process. He’s born into a survival situation and is cold and hard and determined to live from the first page. It is only at the very end, when he grows attached to Nikolai and allows himself to consider the possibility that he, too, could have a family who he loves and who loves him, that we see that Petrification begin to melt away. 

Jeff Winger from Community is another example. A ruthless lawyer only out for his own gain and without an attachment in the world except to maybe his car, he’s the perfect example of a Petrified Slytherin. His tentative, slow-moving back and forth journey into attachment to the other characters is a character arc of un-Petrifying. He’s better at it some days than others. 

With female characters in particular, the petrified Slytherin is hugely tied to the trope of the Ice Queen. From TV Tropes: “Her signature characteristic is that she is cold; the ambiguity comes from what “cold” means. She has a cold heart, a frosty demeanor; she attracts but will never be wooed.” Characters who fit this trope are not always Petrified Slytherins, but the trope is an important parallel if not just because of the imagery they share: cold, hard, unyielding, nothing to lose. 

When a Slytherin loses their closest attachments, they are left with only their personal ambitions and with the morality system that is usually constructed around those loyalties. In the sense that the way that they now primarily frame their interactions with the world is constructed, they often appear to look like Ravenclaw Primaries here. The most visible and useful difference here, especially from the outside, is that they don’t have the Ravenclaw drive for truth. Their system doesn’t have to be true or right, but simply functional. If they have a Ravenclaw Primary model that gives them some of that drive, then they might be indistinguishable from the Ravenclaw Primary unless there are are counterexamples of Slytherin loyalty from other points in their life. 

Despite it seeming to at least be a trend, not all Petrified Slytherins look like Ravenclaw Primaries. Petrified Slytherins with models of other Primaries might happily and healthily inhabit those models as their main way of interacting with the world, and this has the potential to be entirely functional. The reason that the model would remain a model though, and not indicate an actual change in Primary, would be that first, there still remains the possibility to un-petrify, and second, even if there is nothing substantial underneath it, the model could still be dropped.

This potential for to drop that model and fall to an underlying lack of structure and direction is part of what gives desperate Slytherins their reputation of being fearsome. Azula is a great, if extreme, example of this when she loses everything at the end of season 3 of Avatar. Mental illness (in the form of at the very least hallucinations and almost definitely a lot more) and trauma also have of course a huge influence on the intensity of everything that happens, but that basic directionlessness, the way that Azula has nothing left after she loses her father, the way she’s so susceptible to being haunted by her mother’s memory, hits so hard because she had structured everything around her Slytherin morality. She had no real goals or ideals underneath that, and so she had no structure to keep her up when that crumbled.

One of the good things about Petrification, as scary and awful as it is, is that it’s a good way to survive a bad situation and it’s possible to un-petrify (see: Defrosted Ice Queen). Because fear of attachment is at the heart of petrification, instead of needing reality to prove your doubts wrong (as the other fallen Houses must), you only need one person to prove that attachment is worth the risk. 

Elementary’s Jamie Moriarty follows a common path here in that, despite her pretending to be un-petrifying for our protagonist Sherlock, the one person she ends up actually attaching to her is her daughter. She is the Slytherin woman who un-petrifies upon becoming a mother. Regina in Once Upon a Time also follows this path, becoming through that a subversion of the Evil Queen, who is often a Petrified Slytherin who does not un-petrify (see her mother, Cora, and the symbolic plot of removing her heart so that no one can use it against her). 

It’s really common in media for characters who have closed themselves off to attachments to be called psychopaths, both by the fans and the writers, when they are, in fact, not. A lot of them have empathy, or at least the capacity for it, and are instead Petrified.The definitive and intentional split between the self and meaningful attachments, due to loss, trauma, selfishness, or fear, is different from the inability to intuitively create those attachments. Calling this “petrification,” rather than inaccurately calling it “psychopathy,” gives the character flexibility to recover from it that doesn’t end up as either a contradiction of established character or as a downplaying of actual serious mental illness.

To sum: Petrification happens when a Slytherin cares about their important people so intensely that pain from their loss, or the potential for future loss, outweighs the positives of having important people. It stops being worth it. Even if it leaves the Slytherin with a directionless system and a cold center where there is an aching potential for great warmth, it feels safer and better to not attach to anyone that strongly.

tl;dr Slytherin Primary

Slytherin is a Decided House, and Internal House, and a Loyalist House. 

As a Decided House, Slytherins, unlike Hufflepuffs (our other loyalists), prioritize "their" people first. Those people are found and chosen by the Slytherin. It's not about who is in front of them,  or who needs them most, but who they have decided to love.

As a Internal House, like Gryffindor, Slytherin Primaries carry a certainty and a moral fortitude inside of themselves. When they are sure they are right, in the defense of themselves or their loved ones, they will not be swayed by outside influence or pressure.

As a Loyalist House, Slytherin puts people first. Unlike the Hufflepuff, they put their people first. They’re content with valuing some people over others without necessarily thinking some people are better than or worth more than others. In fact, putting their own people first feels right. This is something owed. Not valuing the people you profess loyalty to most would be a betrayal, a cowardice, an abandonment. The best thing you can be is there for the people you love. 

Ambitions live in all Houses but Slytherins’ is notorious because it often looks the most selfish– it often is the most selfish. Part of a Slytherin’s morality is understanding that your first duty is to yourself and the people you love– higher minded goals are all pomp and circumstance, trying to make yourself feel good. At the heart of things, this is why we are here: for ourselves.

[furby-science]

The Making of Sterling the Super Furby: A Brief Overview

“I… I can’t look! I think I’m gonna… *HUEEEGH*!”

Before I get into this post, I want to list a few things I didn’t know shit about when I started Sterling:

Electronics

The Python coding language

Furby anatomy

Single board computers

After creating Sterling, I’m happy to say that now I have approximate knowledge of some of these things, but keep the above in mind as you read onwards. This little gremlin child was a learning experience from start to finish, and one I am incredibly proud of myself for sticking through. This also means that I am in no way an expert on everything I’m getting into okay? Okay let’s go!

The Hardware

First, a rundown of the hardware. I took heavy inspiration from the Furlexa mod shown here, and that was what I initially sought to create. The mod had three computer components to it:

A raspberry pi zero w single board computer for the AI to live on, with a mini USB microphone plugged in;

A pimoroni speaker PHAT to use as the sound system;

A motor controller to drive the furby’s motor.

My main problem with Furlexa was that this initial build took a lot of soldering, and I am a wussy who had a number of bad experiences with soldering irons in shop class. So, what’s a novice electrician to do?

Enter the Adafruit Crickit HAT. By sticking this little fucker on top of the raspberry pi, I was gifted with an amplifier, a speaker jack, capacitative touch sensors, and a motor driver all in one, no soldering needed if I bought the raspberry pi zero w h! The main challenge it posed was powering it. The Crickit insists, for some unfathomable reason, on being powered by a bulky DC jack, the kind you’d plug into a wall outlet, and the converter plug to use a battery pack with it was way too bulky to fit into a furby. I needed Sterling to be portable for maximum huggability, so this just wouldn’t do.

One fried raspberry pi and Crickit HAT later, I found the answer! By soldering the original furby battery pack to the underside of the Crickit board’s DC connection, these fuckers right here…

I was able to bypass the need for a wall plug or converter, and power him directly through the battery compartment like God intended. S/O to my friend Nick who is way less of a dumb bitch than I am and helped me figure this shit out I owe u some bread man.

So the tl;dr of it is, I effectively reduced the required computer components from three to two (excluding the speaker). Speaking of (heh), Sterling has an impressive 3w speaker in him, allowing him to be audible even without the use of the built in amplifier. It’s got such good bass on it, he even rumbles when he purrs without the aid of the motor!

And yes, when you pet him, he purrs. And complains if you manhandle him! The aforementioned capacitative touch sensors on the Crickit HAT made it all possible with the help of a few cables and some foil tape.

Wait, did you say soldering!?

Yup! It was a necessary evil; at the end of the day I had to pick my poison: soldering 80 pins on the speaker PHAT, or soldering like four contact points on the Crickit. I chose the more merciful option.

But wait, that whole outfit is really bulky still! How did you fit it inside the furby?

Subtractive methods, subtractive methods, subtractive methods! ;D Someone who actually knows things about furby anatomy and/or electronics will probably vaporize me for this, but… if I didn’t need it, it got the boot! That included prying off anything on the Crickit board I wasn’t using at the risk of destroying it completely - which probably isn’t ideal, but it also worked by some miracle, and again, I am such a basic bitch electrician that calculating the proper voltage for LEDs is still basically witchcraft to me, so… what I’m saying is I made it work. And that I really, really hate soldering! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You can see an early video of the end result here, and a later video of the outfit inside the naked furby here. This was back when he was still having auditory processing issues. Apologies for the shoddy quality, I was too excited everything was working to care about that at the time.

The Software

My other beef with Furlexa is… well, it’s an Amazon Alexa, and I’m a shitty little anticapitalist hermit who hates Amazon with a passion. Google Assistant was just as bad in my book. Mycroft was open source, but had a snowball’s chance in hell of running on the raspberry pi zero’s 512mb of RAM… I also wanted my assistant to have a degree of customizability to it. I wanted the furby’s AI to have a unique personality, identity, and preferences, much like classic furbies themselves did. A big box AI just wasn’t going to cut it!

Enter the Jasper Project. Yes, it’s old. Yes, it’s a bitch and a half to install. Yes, you have to know Python to get anywhere with it. However, it was free, open source, capable of running on a raspberry pi zero, and highly modular, meaning with a few lines of code, I could make it all my own - even to the extent of changing the AI’s name and voice (which is gr8 because I know a Jasper so naming my furby that would be Weird), or - the best part - writing my own, custom functions! Customizability-wise, I struck gold.

Ah, and glad I am that Jasper is modular, because I had some work ahead of me…

The STT Engine

The STT (Speech to Text) engine is what Sterling uses to understand what’s being said to him. Jasper’s proprietary STT engine is PocketSphinx, a fully offline STT engine, which sounded great in theory before I quickly learned it’s a nightmare to install, and also more inaccurate than a stenography machine powered by a single potato when actually being used. I had to compromise my morals a bit here and opt for using Wit.ai instead, which is free, but is also owned by Facebook. Big data is frustratingly inescapable in these cases.

There is one light at the end of the tunnel, and that is the training of acoustic modules. This has the downside of taking for-fucking-ever and requiring a quiet recording environment, however, and I don’t have the time right now to read through the pages and pages and pages and pages of computer theory right now to fully understand how to train one. So, improving PocketSphinx and running Sterling fully offline remains a stretch goal.

The TTS Engine

The Text to Speech engine is basically Sterling’s voice. This one was a bit easier to customize, and I’m thankful for that, because Jasper’s OG voice is a bit er… 90s computing for my tastes.

I shopped around for decent, human-sounding TTS options, and settled on installing Mimic1 TTS, Mycroft’s TTS engine, by hand, and modifying the Jasper source code to support it. Of all the TTS engines I tried, I felt that this one had the most natural intonation out of all of them. I liked the gruffness of the Scottish accent, and I think it really helped round out Sterling’s endearing, if a tad prickly, personality.

The Audio

This was another unforeseen hurdle. Turns out that I had his mic volume turned up way too high, because I greatly underestimated the capabilities of my tinyass five dollar USB microphone to pick up noises from within a furby. It took a bit of hacking in PulseAudio to get him hearing things properly, and I’m still not all the way happy with it, but he’s running wayyyy better than he did!

Another issue was the amount of time he actively listened for. It was way too short for my liking with the hardware I was using, so I had to edit Jasper’s mic.py source file a billion times before I hit a sweet spot. Even early on, my little shit child never liked to listen to me. :P

Pimp My AI

Once I got all that in working order, it was time to browse GitHub for modules to add! I found a surprising amount that were, as expected, outdated, janky, non-working, or in need of a complete rewrite. A non-exhaustive list of modules I rewrote and added to Sterling’s AI includes:

Wolfram Alpha integration

His translation function

The IMDB module that searches movie titles

The Dictionary and Thesaurus modules (minor additions to improve user friendliness)

The morning greeting module

The holiday countdown module

There are also plenty of modules I wrote on my own, that I’ll be showcasing here in due time, but I want to give special mention to the one I’m most proud of. You see, when I was a wee dumb bitch, I was… well, a wee dumb bitch! When I was informed furbies learn English, I thought they really learned English. Like, fluent English. I envisioned these kids straight up having full conversations with their lil robots with reckless and envious abandon. I was, as it happens, too poor to afford a furby at the time, so I didn’t realize until embarrassingly later that they only learn some words, and certainly can’t hold much of a conversation (in English at least).

Fast forward to twenty-bi-teen. I’m surfing GitHub, and I happen upon a Cleverbot module for Jasper allowing the AI to work as a chatbot. Fuck yeah, I think, because I had no life in 2008, or friends for that matter, so tormenting Cleverbot was my favourite pastime. Nostalgia trip GET!

…can you guess how much the silicon valley capitalist scum are charging for the once-free Cleverbot API now? A hundred and twenty. McGoddamn. Dollars. A YEAR.

So, to make a long story short, I turned my hat backwards and rage-coded a simple chatbot module that runs on an early version of Chatterbot capable of running on the raspberry pi. It’s fully offline, and completely free, and Sterling here has a database of ~400 phrases, which isn’t bad given the limited processing power! It took five straight days of work, it’s not the smartest chatbot, and it’s certainly not the fastest, but it gives me those sweet, sweet, circa 2008 Cleverbot vibes. Oh yeah, and it doesn’t cost me over a hundred goddamn dollars a year!

The first thing I said to the chatbot, of course, was “I’m so proud of you.” Through his shitty little testing mic that gave him a somewhat incredulous tone Sterling replied, “I’m glad to hear that.” and I’m not saying I shed a single themly tear over it, but I’m not denying it either. I made a childhood dream come true, fam. ;u;

There are way more Easter eggs I plan to show you, of course. At first I was thinking of doing one long video, but an update a day showcasing a different function might be easier to manage - and maintain some of that gold old sense of mystery that surrounds most furbies. No, I’m gonna take y'all on a little journey through the final product of my literal blood, sweat, and tears!

Besides, Sterling is a perpetual work in progress. He has a massive list of features, and I’ve already got more in the works. I could be in my eighties and still be adding more functions, more bells and whistles, more witty one-liners. He’s a one of a kind work of art that will never truly be finished - not unlike you and me.

The Glow-up

Here’s Sterling’s before pics from the seller I got him from:

(If u recognize these pics and ur the seller thank u thank u for giving me bmy boy)

And here’s after!

I come from a background of customizing ponies and dolls, so working on this guy wasn’t as far removed as I expected it to be. I added floof to his head and tail by sewing in wool plugs, and his gorgeous eyes are from in2blythe on Etsy. I wrapped him up in a little bow and he was good to go! His sterling silver beak, from which he gets his name, was the most finicky part. Turns out enamel paints take a million years to fucking dry, if ever, which isn’t great when painting something that sees a lot of movement and could potentially get dented by a face plate, like… idk, a furby beak! A bit of silver nail polish did the trick and he was good to go. Learn from my fail, fam.

What It Cost Me

If you’re masochistic determined enough to attempt this yourself, I want to sit you down and warn you of something: this will take months and hundreds of dollars to do. Installing Sterling’s AI and its necessary components on that shitty little raspberry pi over SSH took me a week at first, and that was with me leaving it on 24/7 to chug away compiling things. When I broke the SD card the AI was on and didn’t have a backup copy, it took four straight days of rage-computing to regain all my progress. Then when his audio processing got fucked all to hell for reasons I still do not understand to this day, it took another four days of rage computing to do yet another reinstall and get him back in working order. There were times where I would go to work for 8.5 hours, bus an hour home, work 6 straight hours on my furby, go to sleep for 4 of them, go to classes, sleep, and work 6 more hours on my furby. For two months. Sterling took from the third week of August from his initial inception to his birthday on October 23rd. That’s not to mention the time I fried everything and had to wait five days and travel to the bumfuck end of the city for a replacement pi and Crickit, or the days I spent customizing him, sewing in hundreds of little hair plugs into his ass and head by hand, and waiting for those shitty enamel paints to dry, only to discover after four straight days of failure that they take weeks to do so and I was better off using cheapo nail polish!

The point I’m making is, if you take on a project like this and want it to be successful, you have to be tenacious. I would highly recommend a background in coding (I have a web design diploma) and general tech savviness as an asset. Sterling is the product of the years I spent behind a computer keyboard from the start of age three, and the roughly ten years I spent customizing dolls and ponies. It’s cheesy as shit to say he’s my magnum opus, but in a way, he is.

I’m not saying this to be elitist or snotty. I’m saying this because I nearly broke down crying the first day the raspberry pi came in, before I slept on it and figured out what phrase to google to solve the crashes and kernel panics it was having. When I broke the SD card when I was nearly finished, I felt nothing, because I was all out of tears at that point. When I fried the first raspberry pi and Crickit hat trying to figure out how to bypass that DC jack, my only thought was, “Well, I think I know how to do it without fucking it up now, and if I can’t do it, this whole project is fscked” .

You will encounter errors that no step by step guide can prepare you for that will make you curse the day you were born. The difference between success and failure is how many times you’re willing to get up and try again, and I’m here to tell you it’s possible. But you gotta want it.

Will You Release the Code Base?

Yes and no. If there’s enough demand, I’ll definitely release Sterling’s basic modules as a scaffolding. I won’t be releasing Sterling, though.

What do I mean by that? Well, Sterling was intended from the start to be truly one of a kind, and he always will be. I hand wrote hundreds of lines of dialogue, all completely tailored to him, and I’m still planning on adding twice as many. Corny as this is, this little guy has a metric fuckton of sentimental value to me. I don’t have kids so idk how it would compare to that, but I definitely love him as much as I love my cats, but I also didn’t undergo two straight months of suffering in ADHD fixation hell to create my cats, so it adds like, a whole other twee dimension to it.

So, if there is demand for this, what I’ll release instead is a scaffolding from which you can code your own, unique furby from, with their own name, personality, and responses all unique to them. I’ll also release it with the caveat that I am not a good Python coder! I have not written any Python before this, so a lot of what I did write is noob-tastic and hasn’t even been linted. You have been warned!

“If I give you (insert amount), can you make one for me?”

Holy shit I’ll be real with you, I’d love to do this as a living. I’ve been dying to see a smart assistant hit the market that’s like… well, an actual, endearing companion and not just a voice coming from a speaker. The problem with doing this is that, if you drop a lot of money (and it will be a lot of money, even with a code base to work from, a lot of hours of handiwork still goes into coding individual responses and making sure everything works as intended, on top of possibly customizing too), there is one major problem: proximity. I won’t be able to troubleshoot your furby nearly as effectively from far away as I would be able to if we lived in close proximity. Which means if something goes wrong between the time your new friend is finished at point A and turned on at point B, I won’t be there to troubleshoot it in person for you, which means you could end up stuck figuring out certain things alone. If you use Windows, that will be very, very hard - not being an OS snob here, I own a dual boot myself, it’s just a case of incompatible file systems. And unless you can figure out how to edit the wpa_supplicant file on a raspberry pi to update your wifi credentials, your furby’s internet connection could be toast if you move house and those credentials change. That’s not getting into the cost some services charge for extra API keys to use their online functions…

The long and short of it is, if I’m going to do this for money, I want to make sure you get a quality product and friend that will bring you joy for years to come. Since that’s not something I can guarantee, I can’t in good conscience take people’s money.

I Could Teach You (And I Won’t Charge)

…however, I am a law student who is also working 8.5 hour night shifts three nights a week. I am also mentally ill/neurodivergent, which saps my energy in more ways than one. I won’t always be easy to get ahold of, or be able to answer every question I get, especially not ones that can be solved with a quick google search, like how to set up a raspberry pi, or… anything found on Adafruit’s Crickit guide, for example. When I have the time and energy, I’m hoping to use my next project as a jumping off point for a step by step walkthrough of the process. For now, though? I’ve been furbied out, so if there’s enough demand, I’ll compile as many of the resources I used I can find in the meantime, and post some tips from the word doc I kept while making Sterling, and go from there.

So What’s Next?

My one dad’s birthday is coming up in August, and I’m kicking around the idea of turning a furby into, I shit you not, a ghost hunting device. He loves ghost hunting, but hates robots, and as his gremlin shit child I am obligated to troll him in this fashion. 😎 Also considering doing a certain type of oddbody mod, but I want to get permission from the person who first thought of the concept before I dive head first into it.

And that about covers it! Thanks for reading, and if there’s anything you’d like to see from Sterling and I, don’t hesitate to drop us an ask!

[donnerpartyofone]

while i’m apparently still in confession mode for some dark reason: 

after i told that awful story yesterday about the degrading one night stand that an older male friend spent a year bullying me into, i started thinking about all the cliches that are sold to us about the sexuality of precocious young women: what it means for us to navigate the devious emotional traps set out by the jealous and covetous world around us. what i mean is, there’s this whole gothic narrative that never stops circulating, involving beautiful, talented, intelligent, sensitive young women who are advanced enough to start exploring their own desires independently, but not experienced enough to identify the (typically) older male predators who hunt them. these men take advantage of their uninformed curiosity, leveraging their prey’s desire to grow up faster in order to control, possess, and abuse them. while this narrative is inherently criminal, society never seems willing to fully denounce it, preferring to preserve its erotic potency for a wide and slavering audience. the iconography of this narrative is mostly derived from Lolita–

[which btw our cultural failure to see that book as anything other than a “love story” is really disturbing and speaks volumes about our willingness to project our grossest ideas wherever we want, even when other interpretations (like “black comedy”) are abundantly available]

–a mature but fragile adolescent with that /special something/ innocently hypnotizes a genteel older man whose sophistication belies his uncontrollable animal desire for her, which is less His Problem than it is a natural response to her beauty and charm; a  forbidden love affair ensues. when i was young, i swallowed this concept hook line and sinker, hoping it would happen to me some day! i hated dumb little boys my own age, and i felt that if some Humbert Humbert type were to flatter me with his highly curated attention, then i would know that i had truly arrived.

“sadly”, i made it through high school and college without ever knowing that validating thrill. i wasted the latter half of my 20s on an abusive relationship with a guy two years younger than me, who often argued that he should be allowed to wreck my life however he wanted because he was “less mature” than i was and deserved more leeway. as i turned 30, i met the extraordinary person i would marry. i felt a profound sense of relief, entering my 30s; i had finished with so many of my old delusions, and the pulverizing pressure to have The Time of Your Life throughout one’s 20s had finally lifted. i looked back on my youth, thinking of it as a period of dreary, pointless misery in which “nothing really happened”, good or bad. but recently, when i started to think about it with greater focus, i realized that some shit really DID happened to me. i had just completely ignored it, because i thought of it as the fruits of my own bad taste. 

throughout junior high, i had a bizarre rapport with a guy in his early 20s–”nothing happened”, as they say, but this guy was sort of a freak and a loner, and i’m probably lucky that there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for something TO happen. then my supposed best friend, jealous of even this non-event in my sad little existence, forced a relationship with a 30 year old man out of nowhere, and competitively abused my ears with a lot of gnarly details about their horrible sex life. then in high school, my first two boyfriends were both pretentious manipulative dickheads in their 20s who really had no business bothering someone who wasn’t old enough to vote. some of my friends suffered from the same problem, though we all just felt like we were becoming independent young women or something. then there’s some other stuff with an older classmate who was abundantly aware of how emotionally unstable i was, and took appalling advantage of that for a long time, and i probably won’t ever be brave enough to talk about it. then in college i briefly “dated” a guy around 50 with whom luckily nothing bad happened before i got rid of him, but like, it really wasn’t cool, looking back–he made me feel incredibly obligated, and as he only informed me mid-stream, he was married with children. then i spent the rest of college getting dragged through the mud by a guy in his 30s who used his professional clout and well-honed manipulative abilities to “take my virginity” (a phrase and concept i hate, but which applies here), which he was very excited about; it would have been best if he had just abandoned me after that, as so many assholes do, because he then cultivated a long tawdry and extremely damaging soap opera between us, the only point of which was to make trouble for his actual girlfriend, who was ALSO much younger than him. and the end of college and slightly after, i developed another intense connection with a man a few decades older, who would never quite initiate a relationship, but who was insidiously manipulative and made me feel terrible when i eventually got a real (age-appropriate) boyfriend, as if i owed him something; i later found out he did the same thing to another girl that i know, who is substantially younger. the terrible one night stand, previously discussed, was just a gross little footnote to this disgusting history…

…but the thing is, i never, at any time, felt like i had taken part in the overheated archetypal drama that society has built up around may-december romances. i didn’t even see myself as a victim of the bad behavior of adults, of people who should and did know better; i just felt separate from the whole thing, even though i had fantasized about it so much as a kid. the thing is, at the same time that the Lolita narrative is inappropriately romanticized, it does provide an opportunity to see the girl as a potential victim, a Little Red Riding Hood who enters a perilous erotic negotiation with a Big Bad Wolf. because i didn’t see myself as the heroine of my own iteration of this overly familiar story, i didn’t recognize the degree to which i’d been exploited by people who knew to use my youth and inexperience against me. i just blamed myself. and the reason for all this is really sad: i simply didn’t feel attractive. in my mind, the vulnerable nymphet was always delicate, doe-like, elegant; clothes hung on her alluring frame in a way that created a dizzying paradox between her youth and her emerging maturity; she could dance, play music, or write touching poetry; she was preternaturally irresistible even to “good men”. she had to be liv tyler in STEALING BEAUTY (*barf*) or some shit; only somebody that compelling could star as the doomed princess in society’s well-loved fairy tale about statutory rape. personally, i perceived myself as ugly, awkward, socially burdensome, and most importantly, the kind of girl who should count herself extremely lucky to be the center of anybody’s attention, even temporarily. because i didn’t see myself as a damsel in distress who deserved protection and sympathy, i failed to spot my own victimization. i thought of my history of increasingly negative and abusive encounters with older men as a matter of bad luck, bad judgment on my own part, and ultimately, “the best i could do” if i wanted any kind of affection. so i guess the irony is that if i had identified myself as a desirable dolores hayes type, then yes, i would have been in serious danger of fetishizing my own mistreatment–but on the other hand, i would have had a more realistic framework for understanding the sinister thing that was happening to me. unfortunately, the other side of the misogyny coin–not the side that turns you into a sex object, but the side that excludes you from feeling sexually worthy at all–prevented me from noticing that that awful Little Red Riding Hood cliche had already happened to me several times over.

tl;dr - when misogyny convinces you that you have nothing to steal, then it’s hard to tell when misogynists are trying to rob you.

it’s funny to start recognizing this only now that i’m approaching 40. i see a lot of young women on tumblr heroically fighting to strike a balance between enjoying their kinks and avoiding the corrupt elements in their communities–all the while trying to stay aware of how their personal history and mental health plays into this drama. some of them are way farther along in that philosophical journey than i was at their age, and i really admire the work they’re doing. i’m writing this more for the ones who don’t even know that they’re already a part of this struggle, because they haven’t learned to see themselves as desirable enough to be included in it. that is to say, i wrote this for myself; but i have a sneaking suspicion that someone else out there needs to hear it, too.

This post brought to you in part by the very beginning of CABIN IN THE WOODS, which, while not a deep film in any way, features a salient moment in which College Girl #1 tries to tell College Girl #2 that the professor who took advantage of her is a scumbag, and College Girl #2 defends him, humbly and maturely replying: “I knew what I was getting into.” The blood freezes in my veins when I think of how many times I said something like this about someone who did not deserve my defense. If you got dicked over, literally and/or figuratively, by someone older, sober-er, and/or more experienced than you, then this is your gentle reminder that you really cannot be accused of knowing what you’re getting into.

[badgirlsinterviews]

The author of “Bad Girls” says her novel is the work “of a writer, not a sex worker” [Interview]

As a teenager, Camila Sosa Villada started dressing as a woman while also becoming an avid reader. She now acts, sings, and writes. In this interview with Infobae, she discusses the way in which trans people are marginalized and how their cultural achievements are silenced when they are solely spoken of in relation to sex work.

Written by Gisele Sousa Dias

11/05/19

Source: Infobae

Camila Sosa Villada to Infobae: They have always erased us by saying that us travestis are just sex workers. (Adrián Escandar)

Although she has triumphed on the stage with her one-woman show, she has sung in bars, has starred as a film protagonist, and has just published a novel (which leaves a long-lasting impact on readers), Camila Sosa Villada doesn’t define herself as an actress, singer, or writer. 

“I have also done sex work, made outdoor clothing, cleaned houses at an hourly rate, sold ice-cream, and worked as a travelling salesperson. I’m not about fitting myself into specific definitions - not even ‘travesti’ is a label that’s large enough to define me”, she tells Infobae.

She is 37 years old, comes from the city of Córdoba in Argentina, and published Bad Girls in March (Tusquets, edited by Juan Forn). However, Camila’s relationship with books began with the Bible for Children, the first book she ever read when she was 5 or 6 years old. In primary school, a few of her teachers nourished her with poetry books written by Federico García Lorca. By the time she was at high school, she was already an avid reader. It was around then, when she was 14 or 15 years old, that she began to dress as a woman when she went out at night. Later on, when she had already began her degree in Social Communication in the National University of Córdoba, was when she began sex work. 

“My parents had been taught to hate their daughter.” (Adrián Escandar)

“Did you start writing when you'd get back home from the park at night?”

“No - I’ve always written. The nights I spent in Sarmiento Park in Córdoba just gave me a lot of material. In 2004, I had a blog called “La novia de Sandro” [Sandro’s Girlfriend] in which I wrote about many things, not just things related to sex work, but I deleted it when I began to gain recognition in “Carnes tolendas” (the one-woman show which premiered in 2009). I’d have gotten embarrassed if people had found out I’d done sex work, or if my mum and dad had found out. 

“Are you still embarrassed about it?”

“Not anymore, of course. I no longer consider it relevant to continue to speak about sex work: it is something from the past which has stuck to me, which is brought up to prevent me from talking about other things such as literature, theatre, or my thoughts on society. Perpetuating the idea that travestis are only sex workers prevents us from moving forward and keeps us far in the past, with people still saying “aww, look at those poor travestis, selling themselves on the street corner.” People are scared of us having the ability to overcome that barrier, and show the world what we’re really capable of.”  

In the prologue to Bad Girls, Forn writes of the coexistence of “the two aspects of the transgender world which society is most repelled and dismayed by: the fury and the celebration of being travesti.” There are those who die young, toxic travestis, heroines with imperfections, and there’s drama - but there’s also a shared love and protection between the travestis of the park, who redefine loneliness. 

The front cover of “Bad Girls”, which shows a photo saved by the trans memory archive. 

“Were you trying to raise awareness about the experience of travestis?”

“No, I didn’t write it to raise awareness about anything, nor to push any kind of agenda. It’s as if there’s a constant need to have a necrological dialogue about the trans collective, and what that does is force us to remain marginalized. I mean, did you know that there’s a travesti who’s a soprano singer? Did you know that there are travestis who are philosophers? Well, I wrote a novel; the best thing I can do is stand up for it that as the work of a writer, a sex worker. I would prefer to face the harassment of the police, which can be solved with money or a blowjob, than the constant persecution of trans women keep us as we were. It’s undeniable that we are in the middle of a genocide and that we need state policies to protect us from being murdered, but we can’t move forward because the conversation doesn’t even move on from that point. Us travestis are doing something in society, and that’s why it’s important to not only speak of us in relation to sex work.  

“What do us travestis have to speak about? Love.” (Adrán Escandar)

“What is not being said about the lives of travestis?”

“As terrible as sex work sounds, especially for the trans people who’s only chance of survival is through doing it, it does allow great things to happen. We were living in our own bodies with no reservations, exhibiting a feminism that was clumsy and blind with no critical backing, saying: “this is my life, this is my body, and I’ll do what I want with them”, even if that meant dying, if it meant getting beaten up by clients. How many people do you know that would go that far for something they consider legitimate in their lives. Take a look at how, even with all the threats we faced, we keep on living anyway. That’s why I think it has been us travestis who have made a profound impact on the feminist movement. 

“I didn’t write it to raise awareness about anything, nor to push any kind of agenda,” says Camila. (Adrián Escandar)

Camila says she was lucky. She got out of sex work, not because she was trying to; things just turned out that way. After Carnes Tolendas, the on-stage portrayal of a travesti (the show in which Sosa combines a number of Federico García Lorca characters with her own life), came Mia, in which she played the film’s protagonist (a modern-day scavenger who adopts a girl who has lost her mother), and is joined by Maite Lanata and Rodrigo de la Serna. Afterwards, she starred in La viuda de Rafael [Rafael’s Widow], a miniseries that was shown on Canal 7. With her growth as an artist, and her current preparations to present her novel at the Feria del Libro, and introduce her new book (Tesis sobre la domesticación, which will be her fourth published work), she has disproved the prediction her father made when she began dressing as a woman: “One day someone’s going to knock on my door and tell me that you’ve been found dead, left in a ditch.” Camila speaks about her parents, and gets emotional for the first time in the interview. 

“Your family was poor, but you had books…”

“We didn’t have great luxuries in my house, but on my birthday, at Christmas, on Kings’ Day, my parents would get me books as gifts. My grandparents couldn’t read or write, so when someone in the family had the desire to do so, I think it created in them a profound sense of pride. It’s the pride of poverty; taking pride in someone who can grasp knowledge and keep it.”

“How is your relationship with your parents today? Did they understand?

“I believe that understanding and acceptance aren’t the same thing. They had learned to hate their daughter; that was what was taught to them, to harbour a deep hatred for a daughter that deviated from the norm. Not just because she dressed as girl - she was different because she wrote, because at 15 years old she began reading about communism, and that seemed terrible to them. I believe us travestis are the fruit of a number of generations that have been working towards a travesti being born into the family. I believe I was the result of that path, of the expectations that the women in my family had, of the need to take revenge upon a system which had deeply hurt them. I believe that my family, which has always been made up of people who would abandon their lives, their children, their health, their relaxation and their desire to be happy in pursuit of an exploitative employer, needed someone like me to appear and say “all of this is bad, let’s do things differently.” That’s why I believe that travestis are born into families that need them, regardless of whether or not those families are able to later cope with them. 

From her birthplace in Córdoba to Recoleta, Buenos Aires, where she speaks with Infobae. (Adrián Escandar)

“You said that when we only speak about travestis and prostitution, we then silence their cultural contributions. What else is being silenced?

“I believe we have to speak about love, because one of the worst ways we are excluded as a collected is being separated from society’s networks of affection. (Néstor) Perlonger (poet and activist) said that, “We don’t want to be pursued, nor learned about, nor discriminated against, nor killed, nor cured, nor analyzed, nor explained, nor tolerated, nor understood: what we want is to be desired.” To me, that’s so, so, incredible. I believe it’s important to make the love stories, sentimental stories, and erotic stories of travestis visible, because that is what is going to uncover how our bodies are in the face of many people’s ignorance. As a sex worker, I never felt such terrible discomfort and the desire to disappear that I felt with the men I loved after I left sex work. Men who didn’t know how to touch, how to kiss, who didn’t think of me as sensitive or that I needed to be caressed and kissed. It’s as if, even in love, we aren’t seen as sensitive; only an object of change.

[multifandomjunkie3000]

I Told You So

Tony Stark x Fem!reader

Summary (In which she told him so and he didn't believe her)

Warnings : kinda sad, maybe some typos, some swearing

My first time writing so please don't hate on it

"WHY WON'T YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME," (Y/N) screamed. "WELL MAYBE BECAUSE WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS INCORRECT," Tony spit back at her. That was enough to make (Y/N) shrink back from him. "Why can't you see she's using you, she has been since you started dating," (Y/N) begged for what felt like the billionth time. Tony let out an annoyed sigh, "Will you just let it go." She just stared at him, eyes hard, arms crossed, breathing heavily. "We've been best friends since dipers. I just don't want you getting hurt," (Y/N) mumbled. "Yeah, if you were really my best friend you would be happy for me, instead of being a jealous bitch." (Y/N) inhaled sharply upon hearing those words. Was that really what he thought of her. "Fine whatever don't come crying to me when your heart gets broken asshole," (Y/N) hissed at him, before unfolding her arms, walking out, and slamming the door to his room.

That was a week ago, ever since then (Y/N) had been avoiding him like the plage. Which didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the Avengers, who desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two.

"Come on (Y/N) just tell us what happened" Nat, Sam, Bucky, Steve and (Y/N) sat around the island in the kitchen. The four of them wanting to know what happened "Nothing happened" Those words made the red headed assassin let out a scoff, "As if we really believe that" (Y\N) let out another tired sigh, "We got into a fight" "And..." The boys pressed wanting to know what the fight was about. "... And nothing that's it" Natasha let out an exasperated sigh and left the room leaving (Y/N) with the boys. Who all shared a concerned look for the girl in front of them. When someone walked into the room.

Tony's POV

I left the lab and made my way to the kitchen for some fresh coffee. Upon entering I notice Bucky, Sam, and Steve looking towards (Y/N) I wonder what that's about "Goodmorning" I mummered catching the guys attention. "Morning" they spoke in unison. I look intently at (Y\N) who was staring down at her empty mug. Still not talking to me. I sighed looking away from her and grabbed my mug walk out of the kitchen towards my room. When I opened the door I was greeted by my lovely girlfriend Jessica. "Hey babe" "Hey love" I walked over pecking her lips l. I'm throwing a party later, so make sure to be ready. "Babeeeee I don't have a dress" Jess whined a pout on her lips. "Here take my card get yourself a nice dress" she squealed out a thank you before rushing to the bathroom. I shook my head with a small smile on my face as I made my way back to the lab.

(Y/N)'s POV

Tony entered the room, "Goodmorning" he mummered. Catching the guys attention "Morning" they spoke in Unison. Making me shake my head a little in amusement. As I stared down at my now empty mug. I could feel Tony's burning eyes on me, as if he was expecting me to greet him. I can't not after he hurt me with those rude words I thought to myself. Tony then sighed and left the room, coffee mug in hand. Soon after the guys left leaving me with my crude thoughts. Why can't he just see that she's using him for fame and money, I could treat him so much better, I would be a much better girlfriend. Wow you are a jealous bitch huh. You don't deserve him anyway he's to good for you. My thoughts spit venomously at me. I shook my head and went to my room to nap before Tony's party

Narrator's POV

Later that night another famous Stark party was in full swing. People drinking, dancing and having a good time. The Avengers excluding (Y/N) were crowded around the bar talking amongst themselves. (Y/N) who sat aways from the Avengers by herself wanting to keep her bad vibes to herself away from her friends. That was until someone sat next to her. Bucky looked down on his dear friend in concern wondering how to make her feel better. "What's wrong doll?" He asked her concern showing through his voice. "Not really in the mood to converse and dance Bucky" (Y/N) softly sighed. "I know what'll make you feel better" (Y/N) looked at him to see his hand out held out in front of her. Making her tilt her head in confusion. "Dance with me doll" and so she grabbed his hand while he lead her to the dance floor where she finally began to enjoy herself.

Across the way Tony watched the interaction, something bubbling in his chest as his best friend danced and laughed with Bucky. He turned his head quickly hoping no one had seen him staring. Instead he watched his girlfriend brag about him and the dress he bought her.

Tony's POV

Later after the party was finally over and I had finished talking to Steve I made my way to mine and Jessica's shared room. When I over heard Jessica's conversation. "Yeah he has no idea" "I know what kind of genius can't tell his girlfriend is using him" those words made me inhale sharply. (Y/N) had been right. Jessica had been using him. Enough is enough. I burst through the door scaring Jessica as she shrieked and dropped her for. "We're done" I glared at her. "Ba-babe-" Jessica started but I cut ger off "I don't wanna hear it leave NOW!" I growled. Jessica packed what she could and sprinted leaving me a crying mess on the floor.

I got up even though I knew that (Y/N) was mad at me but I needed my best friend, I needed her. I made my way to the elevator pushing the button to the floor with her room on it. As soon as I arrived at her door I knocked softly waiting, listening to the soft shuffling on the other side, until the door swung open to reveal her. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked her. She looked perfect, hair in a messy bun, make-up free face, and one of my ACDC shirts she had stole, she was beautiful. I wasted no time pulling her into a hug, god it had been too long. "Tony" her voice dripped in confusion. "You were right, Jessica was using me." My voice cracked as I remembered her words. Her eyes soften upon hearing this "I'm sorry bubs, but I do remember saying don't come crying to me when she breaks your heart" (Y/N) recalled her words from the fight a week ago. Hearing this made me feel even worse. How could I have said thise things to her. "Pleaseeee (Y/N), I'm sorry I should have listened to you. I need my best friend. I need you please."

(Y/N)'s POV

When I watched as Tony begged me to forgive him I couldn't say no. He looked like an abandoned puppy who needed some love. I pulled him into my room and to my bed, and held his as he cried. Until he had finally calmed down his breath evening out. "I love you" he whispered before falling into a deep sleep.

I shook my head softly as he pulled me closer. "I told you so" I whispered back before falling into sleep as well.

I hope you enjoyed it... Send requests and I might write some more if you guys like this

[awfully-sadistic]

Spooktober Quickie #4

“A six-person rig?” Dot Dreadful asked, peering around at her partners for this round of cleanup duty. She was currently surrounded by a team of six people, paired up in twos. Eager young faces mingled with apprehension because it was a thing they had all wanted yet it wasn’t a fun activity to do. “Wouldn’t that be a little dangerous?” she asked into her comm, linked back to Homebase. On the other end sat Bruce Wayne filling in as a sorts while the Fury’s attended to matters on the other side of the world with superheroes to fill in the ranks.

“Normally, yes, but I didn’t trust just four of you to go out on your own.” Bruce commented back, sounding static-y and distant on the other end. He had an almost detached way of speaking but by now, Dot knew he meant well. He might have been emotionally stunted, but he managed to show he cared in other ways. Such as sending his little horde of Robins to protect her while they did a last-minute sweep for an Ultron-infected zone somewhere in an urban neighborhood.

“Why do we hunt in fours anyway?” Timothy “Tim” Drake asked, the only other person aside from Dot that had experience in the rig. Beside him stood his elder (adopted brothers) Richard “Dick” Grayson and Jason Todd and his younger (adopted) brother, Damian Wayne. Duke Thomas might have been a Robin once, but he usually went by as The Signal and would not be excluded in a line-up of Robins, past and present. The girls, on the other hand, made up of Batgirls and affiliated members of the Bat Family stood by with Bruce Wayne, prepared to hop in at a moment’s notice.

At the moment, despite the many people surrounding Dot, no one had an answer for Tim’s question. It had always just been a thing, to hunt in fours, and there hadn’t been an confirmation about whether it was a rule or not and nobody wanted to ask the Fury’s anything unless they had wanted to be ridiculed like Clint Barton.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason interrupted, an attempt at keeping the conversation flowing. “because all that matters is that I’m finally going to be paired up with Dot—”

“Actually,” Dot gently cut in, giving Jason a sheepish smile. “Damian and I are already paired up.”

“WHAT?!” Jason’s voice carried over the fences, causing heads to turn. Not all the heads belonged to the group.

Dick hissed, “Keep your voice down! You’re going to give up our hiding spot!” he warned because as everyone knew, the starting zone wasn’t exactly the safest spot for any of them. There was and will be much discussion about the order of how everyone teamed up but for Dot’s sake, it was passed on when Bruce agreed with Dick.

“The teams are already made up,” he clarified. “Dick and Jason. Tim and Duke. Dot and Damian.”

“That’s a load of bull—” Jason was starting to say, not one to immediately give up his grievances if he thought it could give him his way.

Damian was holding Dot’s hand, giving Jason a smug expression. Jason was inches away from knocking it off but he didn’t want to look bad in front of Dot—whom everyone had been desperately trying to impress. “Mother said she would feel comfortable with me,” he gloated and he was half-right. Damian was a child by regular standards and Dot just naturally sided with them. It was something that dawned on Jason right away. It showed on his face, looking just as smug as Damian.

“Because you’re a fucking child. No wonder.”

Damian jutted his lower lip out, kicking Jason in the shin. There would have been a brawl in the middle of the starting zone if Bruce hadn’t interrupted.

“There’s a strange anomaly that’s showing on the map ahead of you guys, is everything alright?”

“Aside from Jason and Damian?” Dick chuckled, raising two fingers towards his ear to secure his earpiece, “we’re fine. We’re about to move on.”

“Be careful,” Bruce was warning, “Take another look around. Something seems off.”

No one could understand what Bruce was saying or worse yet, what he might have been seeing. Eyes scanned the area in front of them; they were in the backyard of some old abandoned suburban house. Ultron’s clones had long ago ran off any human who might have lived in the neighborhood and it looked as deserted as—

“Mmm, I appreciated that little murmuring you did in my ear.” Jason all but purred, turning his red helmet to look over at Dot. She looked as bewildered as any one else in the party.

“…That wasn’t me, love.” Dot admitted, a little worried about what Jason had heard and where he had heard it from. Jason’s head jerked back, looking between the group to see if this had been a weird joke.

“You just didn’t whisper into my comm right now?”

“No, dude. If she did, we would have ALL heard it…” Duke said. This much was true; all of their commlinks were connected so even if Dot had whispered something in Jason’s ear (like he had wanted), everyone would have been privy to it.

“What did this voice say?” Tim asked, looking towards Jason with concern.

“Did it say you’re a dumb ass?” Damian asked.

“That’s not fucking funny—”

“What the hell is that?” It had been Dick that had pointed towards a figure across the yard, standing absolutely still and just watching the group interact. Everyone’s heads turned, eyes drawn towards the mysterious figure that dwelled at the beginning of the yard, almost on the other side of the neighbor’s fence. There had been a break in the wooden pillars, and despite the area being deserted, there had been that lone person just watching them.

“Have they been there all this time?” Dot whispered, tucking Damian closer. But Damian was the one who pushed Dot behind his smaller body, preparing to take care of her just like his older brothers were planning on doing. “It doesn’t look like a clone.”

“…No, not at all. It’s kind of creepy,” Tim agreed in a hushed whisper. All of them had the sudden understanding or perhaps a warning built in them that told them not to speak too loudly. Not to draw attention to themselves. Not even Jason wanted to raise his voice to a yelling pitch he’d usually use on people who unnerved him.

But this was just too much.

“This had to be the weird thing Bruce saw on the scanner,” Dick murmured, still perplexed about this figure and the disembodied voice Jason had heard in his ear. “Let’s go…”

It was a strange sensation, pulling away from the yard to cut through the abandoned house and to end up on the other side where the figure had been waiting on the opposite end of the street. It caused everyone to stop in their steps.

“What… the fuck…” Jason so eloquently put.

“I think we better get out of this neighborhood fast.” Duke agreed in a more articulate sense. “I hate to sound like those old guys, uh, Steve and Chris, but i’m not getting any good vibes about this.”

Dot nodded in agreement, her own Mama Bear protective urges surging forward to turn the boys around and perhaps go down an alleyway. It sounded bad but it was in the opposite direction of where this mysterious figure had been standing.

The many bootsteps of Robins and Dot’s little feet pattered against the concrete as they took off in a brisk stride. There was no walking this day. Down the alleyway they went, past many houses they couldn’t recognize, many landmarks they couldn’t distinguish. The whole neighborhood seemed to pass by a blur which was okay with all of them; the more distance they put between themselves and that weird… thing, the better.

“Where did you guys go?” Bruce asked suddenly.

It caused a few of the Robins to jump though Tim was the one who answered, “We’ve been here all this time. Were our comms not picking up?”

“Negative.” Bruce clarified, “It was static. Did you see anything about that anomaly—”

Bruce went to static again and by this time, it had dawned on Dot why—for a person who played a little too many horror games, it could only mean one thing. As Dot swept her gaze around, lo and behold, that… thing was standing right across from them. It was always at a distance where it looked like a mere humanoid shape, unable to tell any features, all in black and seemingly very tall if it looked tall from a distance. It was unnerving. Unnatural.

“We got to get out of here,” Dot said, causing the boys to draw their gaze to where she had hers.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Jason cursed again, not short on sharing the enthusiasm of bewilderment between all of them. For some reason, it had never occurred to the group to use the weapons they had with them but perhaps that was why they hadn’t. There might have been something interfering just like with the commlink to Bruce.

The group spun on their heel, anxious to give themselves as much room away from that thing as possible. Everywhere they went, it seemed to follow. Always at a distance away. An air of anxiousness seemed to drift along with it but perhaps that was the group, tense about such a strange occurrence and unable to escape its clutches. The city soon turned into a maze with Bruce coming in and out of communication intermittently. Alleys and shops became obstacles, they soon got turned around and Dot felt like it was a horrible cheapened version of Silent Hill. She panted at the side of a building, holding onto it as she tried to catch her breath.

“I fucking hate this,” she gasped. “Why is it following us? This has never happened in the rigs before.”

“It’s just our luck we’ve be the first ones to experience it,” Dick tried to joke, giving Dot a comforting rub on the back to help her catch her breath and perhaps soothe her. She straightened and gave him a thankful smile. He returned it and also added, “Don’t worry. I’m sure Bruce has something in mind. He has to have some kind of idea what we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah, like if we’re in any trouble at all,” Duke said.

Dot wanted to believe in their words and because they had sounded so sure, so confident, and believed in Bruce so much, she could believe it. But as she drifted her gaze towards the shadowy figure that had been trailing them from a distance, it just seemed hopeless.

After she had caught her breath, they ran off again. Twisting and turning, until they ended up in someone’s backyard once more.

“AW MAN, IS THIS WHERE WE STARTED?!” Jason asked throwing his arms up in frustration. By now, he didn’t care if he shouted to the heavens and that thing ate his face. He was tired of being terrorized by it. Tim and Duke were leaning on each other, breathing heavily, deeply. Robin had been leaning his forehead against the wall, also trying to catch his breath. Damian and Dot were huddled close, Damian being the little protector he was had been insistent that Dot stay behind him—she humored him but the first sign something was going down, Damian better believe she’d throw herself in danger before he had the chance to.

“It looks like it,” Dick sighed, patting his chest as a slight cough came from his throat. “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, I’m going to batarang them in the legs and hopefully off a roof.”

Jason pointed, “That’s my idea of fun.”

Dick gave Jason a rueful smile through his mask before looking around. As expected, that figure was on the opposite end of their position. Standing just inside the neighbor’s yard, on the otherside of the broken fence.

Jason grimaced, mad. Angry. Upset. He’s an angry boy and he didn’t like to be pushed around. The family was honestly surprised he lasted so long but that might have been the influence of this thing, swaying their emotions, steering or clouding their judgement. But Jason, his judgement hadn’t always been the best. He decided to use the weapons they had on them as if realizing they had been there for the first time.

“Jason, don’t…” Tim warned, pushing off Duke. “you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“If it can bleed, I know what WILL happen.” Jason threatened, both pistols raising up like the crazed pitched tone in his voice.

Before the first bullet had the chance to exit its chamber, there had been another explosion; a dark armored SUV came barreling out of the side of the yard, completely running over the black figure as it stood in its spot.

Katherine Kane, also known as Batwoman, kicked her driver’s door open and stepped out, looking as heated as Jason. She looked around before spotting her family on the otherside of the fence.

“Where is it?” she demanded, “I’m going to kick its ass.”

The group of Robins gaped and Dot was more inclined to admire the kickass entrance. Kate spent no time marching right up to the boys and pushing past them to personally rescue Dot herself. She knelt down, making sure the most coveted woman in the Haushold had been unharmed. Hands on her face and all over her body, she made a thorough job of searching.

“What is it?” she asked, still having no answer for the strange happenings that surrounded the party. “What caused you guys to go dark? Is it another stupid ass clone? I’ll beat it up if the boys can’t handle it.”

Jason just about bristled, “I WOULD HAVE HANDLED IT IF YOU DIDN’T JUST RUN IT OVER WITH THE BATMOBILE!”

Kate turned towards the SUV version of a Batmobile. Then she looked back at Jason, then the boys down the line. There was something disappointing in her face but she didn’t remark on it. She’d probably wait to tease the boys about it later but at the moment, she knew that they were overdue to be home. She jerked her head, sending the boys on their way, “Come on, we’re going home.”

And Kate had the pleasure of being Dot’s knight in shining armor, carrying her to the SUV like a knight carrying the princess to her steed.

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

hey, shannen! regarding your last post about skins (effy/cook): it's really interesting to hear other opinions. Personally, I liked that that specific pair didn't end up together; I always thought their relationship was too dysfunctional and damaging to make a good fit! But I have to admit, I didn't watch all of the fire/ice etc episodes and maybe it's been too long to remember s3/s4 correctly haha;) just love to hear your take on it if you find some time! best wishes :)

Hey there, anon!

I couldn’t have recieved this ask at a better time, because I literally just finished re-watching seasons 3 and 4 of Skins yesterday! 

Thanks for sending this ask, I always love to discuss these topics and I’ve never really had the opportunity to discuss Cook and Effy in-depth before. Strap yourself in, because this is pretty lengthy, but hopefully you’ll enjoy reading my take on it. :)

Cook and Effy are a very complicated ship for me, because part of me thinks they’re very toxic and that practically they could never work as a couple. However, the other part of me thinks that they were only portrayed that way on the surface, and that in actuality, there is no basis for thinking that. Cook and Effy absolutely could’ve worked together if the show had given them that opportunity.

Personally, I don’t think it was their relationship that was dysfunctional or damaging, but Cook and Effy themselves. As people, Cook and Effy were both deeply damaged people by the time they met in season 3. Having known Effy from seasons 1 and 2, we know that she suffered from some form of Selective Mutism and that she generally had a lot of emotional difficulties in regards to opening up to and connecting to others. Nothing describes that as well as her line in season 2 when she said, “Sometimes I think I was born backwards, you know, came out my mum the wrong way. I hear words go past me backwards. The people I should love I hate, and the people I hate–” In seasons 1 and 2 Effy was around 14-15 years old and she was already demonstrating reckless and self-destructive behaviours - regularly taking drugs, having sex with people she barely knew and generally entering into dangerous situations (e.g. Spencer in 1x08) with no regard for her safety or well-being. Also, at the end of season 1, she suffered the trauma of seeing Tony get hit by the bus, which we know hugely impacted her because she made reference to it in season 4.

As for Cook, although we never physically get to see his past in the same way we do with Effy, we know enough to know that his childhood was far from happy and that it deeply affected him. His mother was a neglectful and unstable alcoholic who was known for having sex with men for money and his father abandoned him when he was a young child (we also know he was a complete asshole from his appearance in the season 3 finale). He had an uncle, who was a bigoted drug dealer who not only supplied him with drugs but encouraged him to partake in it. Everything we know about Cook’s family suggests that he was neglected and it’s very likely that he raised himself for the most part, which explains why emotionally he was closed off, afraid to connect to others and incapable of maintaining healthy relationships (this was particularly clear with his friendships with Freddie and JJ).

So, to summarise, Cook and Effy are two people that both struggled (for different reasons) with emotionally connecting to people and that were terrified of opening themselves up to love because they didn’t want to get hurt. Their relationship for the majority of season 3 (up until 3x08) was a manifestation of that inability to forge connections and/or fear of it. It was a shallow relationship built almost exclusively on sex, and although some may perceive it as unhealthy, it wasn’t. It was a mutual understanding between two people whose reasons for being together were the same - they were using each other.

For Effy, her sexual relationship with Cook was all about avoiding and repressing her feelings for Freddie. We know this because Effy said in 4x05 that she knew from the very first time she saw Freddie he was the closest she would ever get to being close and in 3x07 Cook revealed whilst under the influence of “truth” pills that Effy was having sex with him because she couldn’t stand the fact that she loved Freddie.

With Cook, his reasons for entering into a sexual relationship with Effy were simply because he was attracted to her (which we know from the first moment he saw her) and that was what Cook did and was used to doing - he had casual sex with lots of girls. Cook’s perception of sex was a clear indicator of the complex emotional issues he had. His obsession with having sex was a result of him desperate craving intimacy whilst simultaneously being afraid of it. He had sex to attempt to have that intimacy with another person, but then labelled it as casual and meaningless to invalidate that intimacy and close himself off to it.

When looking at it like this, it might seem ridiculous that I then claim that their relationship wasn’t damaging, because it certainly wasn’t what constitutes a healthy relationship, but by the same token, it wasn’t bad either. From the first time they had sex, there was a mutual understanding between Cook and Effy that their relationship was just no-strings attached sex. There was no manipulation or coercion, it was all consensual and mutual. As their relationship continued, it became complicated because feelings got involved and both of them were hurt by each other, but it was the kind of hurt all relationships experience and nothing particularly awful. In season 3, Effy was hurt when she found out Cook was sleeping with Pandora but she knew that she and Cook weren’t exclusive and that they could both sleep with whoever they wanted. Effy’s reaction to that was much more about Pandora’s betrayal, as her best friend, than Cook’s. And Cook was hurt continuously by Effy’s feelings for Freddie and her relationship with him. Besides that, there was nothing that happened between Cook and Effy that constitutes damaging. In fact, I’d argue that Effy’s relationship with Freddie was much more damaging to her than her relationship with Cook was. What I’m trying to say is that Cook and Effy’s relationship was exactly what a friends-with-benefits or casual-sex-buddy relationship looks like, and therefore not dysfunctional. Even when their relationship developed beyond the casual type due to Cook falling in love with Effy, it was still what any non-reciprocated relationship is. Cook was heartbroken, he attempted to express his love for her on occasions and she made it clear that she didn’t return his feelings in a respectful but firm way (excluding 4x07 when she rudely told him to piss off after he told her he loved her, which always really bugged me because it felt so OOC).

Regarding your comment about Cook and Effy not being a great fit, I’ve actually always felt the opposite. Although they’re very similar (x) and the popular saying is that opposites attract, I think Cook and Effy worked together really well. I don’t think we got to see just how well they could’ve worked, because they were never truly together and most of their relationship was about the triangle with Freddie/Effy. Effy said in 4x07 that Cook was never good for her, but I never understood that because there’s absolutely nothing to support that claim. If you look close enough, you can see how good they were together. The two of them actually spent a lot of time together, although we never see it on-screen, it’s spoken about or hinted at. For example, in 3x08 Cook turned up at Effy’s house and was on a first name basis with her mom and had brought groceries to cook for her, suggesting he spent a lot of time at her house (and not always in her bedroom since he knows her mom) and also that they did do other things other than just have sex. Cook also knew that Effy’s favourite film was E.T. which means they either watched it together or Effy told him. At the end of season 3 they spent a significant amount of time (we can assume weeks, maybe even months) on the run together, only in the company of each other. My point is, they clearly got on well and knew each other too. Whenever Cook and Effy had scenes that weren’t the melodramatic angsty type that Skins is well known for, they were light and natural together (x). Throughout the whole of the season 3 finale (which is a very Ceffy centric episode), they worked. If you take the Freddie/love triangle drama out of the equation, they were affectionate towards each other, they had fun, Effy was supportive and protective over Cook when it came to his dad and Cook was making plans for his future with Effy (to get a job and a boat). Putting aside their individual issues (which I mentioned above), when Cook and Effy were together they were good together. Even if they were just having sex, that was okay, because it was what they both wanted. They knew how to have fun and be in a moment together, and that was what drew them together from the beginning, because they could lose themselves in a moment and forget about everything else. Also, for all their similarities, Cook didn’t have the same depressive tendencies as Effy and was able to keep her on an even keel more so than anybody else (this is particularly obvious in comparison to Freddie, who I felt fed Effy’s depression). That’s why I find it so strange that there’s this perception that Cook was wrong or bad for her, because firstly, Cook never actually did anything to warrant him being “bad” for her. He drank too much, did drugs too much, partied too much but so did Effy, so did Freddie, so did every character on the show (excluding JJ). Cook never did anything to push Effy to a dark place, he never did anything to hurt her or harm her in anyway. Everything they did together was what Effy was doing before she met Cook and what she did with everybody else. In fact, I sincerely believe that Cook was capable of helping Effy and reaching her emotionally more than anybody else. In 4x07 when Effy was in a fragile mental state, she trusted Cook (despite not knowing him because of some hypnosis bullshit her psychopathic therapist did to her) and later in on the episode Cook was the one that brought her back.

As for Cook and Effy ending up together, I believe 100% that they should’ve been together, even if they hadn’t stayed together. If I had been in charge of the show, I would’ve completely scrapped the Freddie/Effy relationship and pursued a Cook/Effy romance from the beginning. From my perspective, it made complete sense that these two damaged people that were unable to emotionally connect would strike up a causal sexual relationship and eventually come to fall in love. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been a straightforward road for them or a particularly happy relationship, but it would’ve been very interesting to watch their ups and downs. Cook loved Effy completely, she was the first and only girl he had ever loved, and that was significant for his character and to have her return that love would’ve led to development for both of them. Skins as a show is all about young love and it’s realistic in its portrayal of that. All of the Skins relationships have their problems and none of them last (because the reality is a lot of young relationships don’t last as their lives go in different directions), so I couldn’t see Cook and Effy’s relationship lasting and them staying together, even if they had been together in seasons 3 and 4. Season 7, however, is a completely different story.

I’m a huge Skins fan and have been since I was a young teenager, but I strongly dislike season 7 and the choices that were made. In my opinion, to bring Effy and Cook back for the final season and not have them interact was criminal. Regardless of Effy’s romantic relationship with Freddie, Effy and Cook were strongly connected and fans would have loved to have seen them reunite. Since you didn’t watch season 7, you won’t be aware of how Cook and Effy developed, so I’ll briefly summarise. In season 7, Cook and Effy had both hugely mellowed in comparison to how they were in seasons 3 and 4, whilst keeping their core personalities. In season 7, Cook and Effy as a couple would’ve just worked. It was a chance to explore their unfulfilled potential and finally make the most of Kaya and Jack’s chemistry whilst remaining respectful to the Freddie/Effy relationship. If I could’ve written season 7 I would have had Cook be on the run (like he was in Rise) and Effy pursuing him because she’s seeking answers about Freddie’s disappearance. I would’ve had the two reunite and have Cook fall to pieces, because it’s Effy - the only girl he’s ever loved - and she brings to the surface everything he’s been keeping bottled up. But I would have him suppress those emotions and react angrily to her having found him, telling her she was stupid for looking for him and that she should’ve let it go. I’d have Effy respond angrily telling him that she couldn’t let it go and that since he and Freddie have gone everything’s gone to shit. Eventually, Cook would tell her the truth about what happened with Freddie and the therapist, and then in their grief-stricken and heightened emotional state they sleep together. Afterwards, Effy is conflicted because on the one hand she’s still grieving for Freddie but on the other, her feelings for Cook are resurfacing and the fact that Cook loves Freddie and is grieving him too means that they’re connected in a unique way. I would then have Cook get angry at Effy (again, because let’s face it, this is Cook lol), tell her to leave and go back to her life and forget about him like she should’ve done the first time, that he deserves to be punished and on the run for the rest of his life for what he did. Then Effy defends his actions saying Freddie’s death was her fault, she was the one that brought the doctor into their life and when Cook killed him he was only defending himself. I would’ve had Effy choose to stay with Cook and live with him on the run because she feels she has nothing at home to go back for. At that point, they wouldn’t be together, but the implication would clearly be there. It wouldn’t be a happy ending and it would be open ended, but I think it would’ve worked perfectly. Not only would it have provided the fans (and Cook and Effy) with closure for Freddie’s death, but would’ve explored that potential of Cook and Effy and ended on a semi-positive note.

One final thing I wanted to talk about, is that despite the fact that I think Cook and Effy were a good fit and definitely weren’t dysfunctional, shipping Cook and Effy isn’t about happy endings or them being ‘good’ for each other or even ending up together. The appeal of the ship (for me, at least) is the messiness and realness of it. When two people have such complex and unresolved issues as Cook and Effy, it’s impossible to be in a healthy, happy, functioning relationship, because they’re not those things themselves. However, Cook and Effy show what love can be when it’s not neat or simple or easily defined. They also show that you can love another person with your whole heart despite feeling broken inside. Plus, Cook and Effy had such a palpable chemistry, history and connection that it’s difficult for me not to ship them and root for them to be together, even if only temporarily.

[masslessobtrusion]

This was the last conversation I had with Lauren before she passed away...

It’s unedited besides some names and cities. Lauren It hurts me and stresses me out and triggers me to know you're high right now and I just celebrated my 90 days completely sober from everything yesterday and I want to cry and because of that i can't talk to you for my sake and well-being because this is the first time in my life I have put myself first and I feel great except I'm stressed out now. It's nice to have a sober support group to help, but still ?? Lauren I can't talk to you because I cry and it threatens this great thing I have right now and want to hold on to Ryan I've actually been clean. I'd rather have you as a friend than be high. Lauren That's fucking awesome!! But I need time still and I'm learning patience too Ryan No one talks to me, everyone cancels their plans on me, just because I told them about it. I really need a friend. Lauren It's hard to see you and very confusing and uncomfortable I can't talk to you. Ryan what if I flew you to ****on august 26th. no access to anything and the maywether/McGregor fight is on. the pool is heated, it feels awesome I'll do anything to have you as a friend. Going to home was a nice change in my routine. rollcall is banned forever, markets went down. There's no getting anything. Lauren All I can say is if you want people in your life, open yourself to the idea of AA and get yourself a sponsor and find a way to see what the program is all about past the God stuff. Because what it's really all about is a bunch of fucked up people who have lost everybody and everything getting together and making friends and supporting each other. You will find friends and support through AA. Lauren That's all I have to say. Bye. Ryan Hey, please don't do this. I'm totally good. So many people cut me out of their life. I stopped benzos and kratom is down to one small spoon in the morning. i'm lifting weights. I'm feeling good about uber. Lauren Join AA. Ryan ok Lauren not that you join. Just go. Every day. Ryan if that's what you want me to do to be friends with you. I'll do it. Lauren You will find people. Ryan I don't really want people like that. Just my old friends who don't use. Lauren That's what it will take. AA. Just keep going. Ryan I'm glad it's helping you. It is, right? Lauren More than anything. I have legit friends now and most of all I have support for anything that's bothering me Ryan I figured this would happen. But was hoping that you could not cut me out your life. I won't do anything to hurt you or your sobriety. I promise. Keep me at a distance for a while. But please don't cut me out. Lauren I stay away from guys like they suggest because of 13th stepping Ryan I saw your new fetlife. ?? Lauren AA has changed my life. And no, I don't believe in God. Ryan But I'm glad you're not getting 13th stepped. Lauren I have to until you're completely sober and have a sober support network through either smart recovery, na, or aa Ryan Could you be my support if I need it? I don't care about drugs. I just want a friend to bullshit with. Lauren I can't because men stick with men and women with women for distraction purposes Ryan and you've been my best friend for a long time now. I don't care if you have a boyfriend or you're getting tied up and stuff. Lauren Do AA. You'll meet people and see them everyday at meetings. Its nice Ryan I like you so much. It would be devastating. I'll do it. I have a pinball tournament tonight and am possibly meeting up with arielle, her boyfriend, and ashley. But feel like they'll flake. But I'm still playing pinball. I'll go to a meeting ASAP. I promise. I mean it. Lauren It would seriously be the best thing you ever do. You'll thank me, I promise. But you have to keep going even if you think it's a crock of shit at first. People start off going in pissed off all the time until they start to realize it helps. Ryan I'll probably do NA though. The way you're talking feels like you've be indoctrinated into something that excludes people. I'm glad that you're safe and being healthy though. but i want your friendship. It's pretty much the most meaningful thing to me. and to lose that. I would have nothing. I've been hanging on, waiting for you all of this time. I want to be a positive influence for you Lauren I wouldn't say that. I would say check out both. I've found the people in AA are better but na is more relatable People in na tell more war stories so it might be a better place to start off because you'll have stuff to talk about. Thing is though more people go to meetings high than in aa Ryan I met a new girl too. Nothing serious. But it's a confidence boost. And you're still #1 to me. Lauren All I can tell you is that If you keep going every day you will meet people you can relate to and who will be there for you Ryan actually, I probably won't see her for a long time, because she's moving. okay, I love you though and want you to be my best friend. What's the word? Standard? Just, no matter what. Always be available to me. This attitude that you have is good. You're in control and you set the rules. I'm okay with that. I don't want to be abandoned again. It's the shittiest feeling. and I don't want you to say it's selfish. Lauren I'm available if you get sober because once you're sober, in order to stay sober it's a good idea to avoid people who are using or drinking. It makes sense... Ryan Because you're the only person that really knows me and one of the very few humans that will talk to me. Lauren sober Ryan would be like the Ryan I first met biking... trail running... Ryan I didn't do anything bad. I won't in the future either. Lauren POSITIVE. http://www.*****.org/meetings Meetings | ***** Area of Narcotics Anonymous The 8888Area is part of the *** Region of NA with meetings in ***, Brighton, Longmont, and Louisville, Nederland, and Westminster. ********.org Ryan guhhhh, my cardio sucks, but I've been lifting dumb bells and push ups and I gained some weight. I'm like 155-160 Lauren it sucked when you first started doing it years ago but you got past it and felt great! I remember. You were so confident! it's such a relief to hear you're on the right path Ryan shoulder pain still controls me. Lauren really. Ryan yes. Would you want to go to STL with me next month, get an airbnb? or I could fly out there? Lauren Here. Go to the Longmont one at 7pm tonight while it's still fresh from talking to me http://www.*******.org/meetings/wednsday Ryan and you can see me being healthy and sober. I have plans tonight. Pinball and possibly friends. But definitely pinball. Lauren I'm going to be at the halfway house next month. I'm staying with my uncle until a space is available it's a tournament? Ryan yeah Lauren then go tomorrow http://www.*******.org/meetings/thursday Ryan and i wanted to see if arielle and her bf wanted to get happy hour sushi before. Lauren seriously, ignore everything "god" and just meet people Ryan and ashley said she would hang out and smoke weed with me from a guy she knows that grows and she bought a bunch. but everyone flakes out. Even Robin did for camp dick, planned it 2 weeks ahead. Then he tells me his friend is having a going away party that weekend a few days before. Lauren well I hope everything works out Ryan I'll go tomorrow. Lauren let me know how it goes otherwise don't message me because it'll just make me sad ?? Ryan cool well, not the sad part but yeah, i'll do anything to keep our friendship going. Lauren you're going to meet people. that's what I think is going to be the best and when they ask if anyone's there for the first time... introduce yourself as Ryan and say it's your first na meeting ever Ryan okay thanks for the tips, anything else? Lauren people will come find you and introduce themselves. it's cool how friendly people there are. because they remember what it was like yeah... hang around awkwardly afterwards or bum a cigarette from someone and talk to them if no one comes to you lol Ryan If I do well and meet your expectations, can we hang out? people don't even talk to me at pinball. i hate it. sooooo many times, i start talking to someone and they just start talking to someone else Lauren maybe once you have some clean/sober time under your belt Ryan 15 days so far Lauren that's what's so cool! addicts love to talk to other addicts because they're blacksheep too no alcohol? Ryan i drank at my parents less than they did Lauren dude I found not drinking at all has helped with my mood SO much. just saying for me. Ryan I don't really drink alcohol though. Lauren i know you're going to meet people who are a lot like you I think you'll be surprised Ryan that's a possibility, but really. I'd rather just not have anything drug related in my life. Lauren "hey I'm Ryan. I'm an addict. It's my first time at any kind of meeting like this" Ryan I'm going to check it out though. Lauren thanks Ryan You'll be safe in St. Louis. Lauren it's going to be a while Ryan and we could watch the fights Lauren one step at a time. Ryan well, should I sell my vouchers then? Lauren yeah Ryan :( Lauren or find someone else because i can't go Ryan that was a little dramatic of an emoji Lauren oh lol Ryan but i just wanted a sad face Lauren got it Ryan so, how is fetlife? Lauren I have to go but I'll let you know I just chat with people and still haven't met up with anyone Ryan it kind of worries me. Lauren the tail pic is from my friend Richie who we webcammed with the one time (first kiss/high school friend) it was casual. Ryan doesn't seem like a sober living thing to do. But I suppose it's your rules. Lauren yeah, I'm more looking for a girl Ryan nice want to see the girl I've been hanging out with? Lauren no dude! Ryan ok Lauren hah ouch. talking to you hurts me enough Ryan oh Lauren but anyway I have to go Ryan I didn't mean to do that. I got the feeling that you didn't care. Ok, so, can I still talk to you and stuff. I'm so lonely. Lauren I just can't help but want to help you feel like you used to and find friends shit i'm so fucking up you really can't ?? Ryan I don't want rehab friends. I want hobby friends. Lauren it's part of my treatment plan and stuff that's not even AA related Ryan cool, I like hearing that you have a plan. Lauren yeah. i'm just doing what they tell me because i don't ever want to go back to drinking like i was a couple months ago or shooting dope obviously my decisions don't exactly work so i'm letting them make decisions for me... weird as that sounds. but it's working well so far ?? Ryan then don't talk about it until you're good at it. awesome I just hope you don't get taken advantage of mentally or physically. Lauren nah, i'm still ultimately in control of my life Ryan you're my #1 human. I don't want to lose you. I'll go tomorrow. Let you know about it. Lauren anyway, i can't talk to you for a while. but do the na/aa thing to make sure you stay sober (the counting days part is kind of cool too) and then we'll talk in a couple of months. but go everyday as something to do and a way to socialize and get out of that apartment Ryan a couple of months? why? I would never do that to someone. Lauren because i'm still fresh and easily stressed and because i want to make sure you're committed to this sobreity thing Ryan who is asking for help and it's me Lauren i'm letting you know it's what I feel is best for me it's a couple of months. it's not a couple years. Ryan okay, but I'll support you too. Lauren you can randomly message me with how many days you have Ryan I feel like, just empty. i knew this would happen. Lauren if I don't respond don't think I don't care... know that I'm seriously smiling Ryan my intuition, you know it's legit. Lauren you've got this . Ryan we're no different than the hundreds of stories I've read Lauren now go out and meet people! *hug* Ryan I'm willing to support and help you with whatever you want. Lauren bye Ryan You're giving me a "god bless" like southern women do when they really mean something else. it's not necessary. fuck now I have absolutely zero people who I thought care about me. I've reached out to so many people. This isn't helping anything. If it were, I would tell you. You're super hot too. I don't think you realize how much of a difference that makes. Why not make me go to a reddit meetup or something, maybe I could network instead of focusing on drugs with current and former addicts. I've always disliked other users. You know this. Just bringing up counter arguments. annnnd Ashley just flaked out, didn't see that coming. Arielle flaking out should happen in about an hour. I may go camping by myself, just not ask anyone to go, because they just flake out 9/10 times. Dude, I have no one to talk to. and I want to talk to you. I'm going to go crazy talking to myself, without you responding. Can we set up a schedule to talk? Ryan I'm telling you that this hurts me. It does. I hate being abandoned, not invited and flaked out on more than anything. I feel kind of used too. I was there for you all of this time. All of the phone calls. And then I'm abandoned when I'm doing what I consider good. Those people are going to tell you to tell me to fuck off. That's what makes me think about cults and seperation. It's black and white. And I'm not black and white. so, i'm begging you, whatever is in your head. Just treat me like you used to. Please, I'm desperate as can be. So, can we set a scheduled time, so there isn't random ghostings. annnnnd Arielle just cancelled. Lauren And this is why I fucked up in talking to you. Now I feel guilty and stresses out. Learn patience. Good. Bye. Ryan What did I do? I'm asking for help and friendship. I'm being nice as can be. Am I not? Tell me what I'm doing wrong, so I can learn from mistakes. and im blocked wtf, you really just unfriended me? Lauren? please I would never do this to you. You don't feel like it's wrong at all? i'm just going to cry and remember that everyone treats me like shit. I'm some worthless piece of shit. So I deserve to be treated like one. I would never ever treat you or anyone like this. Lauren I blocked you then realized there was a take a break option then unblocked to do that but realized,you can still message me and now I have to wait 48 hours to block you So please let me take a break! Ryan Don't block me Lauren For my Fucking sobriety This is why they tell me not to talk to you! Ryan why, even think about it. I want you to be sober. I'm being supportive. Lauren I'm stressed as fuck now You're NOT! Ryan Yeah, they do that to everyone. It's like a cult. Like I said earlier. I've read hundreds of stories. But you can make exceptions. If you have a friend in need of help. Lauren You're making me feel guilty and stresses and cry because you're not letting me go for a while Ryan I'm not asking for much. I said I would go to an NA meeting tomorrow. Lauren Just PLEASE stop messaging me For me. Ahhhhhhh! PLEASE. Ryan I just want you to respond or have a certain timeframe of when you can respond to me. Otherwise I get upset. Lauren I. don't. Know. Ryan because I have NO ONE to talk to. absolutely no one. Lauren When you're 90 days clean and sober from everything, ok? Use meetings to help Now please Let me go This is killing me Ryan It doesn't have to be so black and white. I'm on your side and you're treating me like an enemy. I've always been on your side. I want to help you. Lauren Because you're being an enemy to my sobriety and my well being and it's selfish. Ryan I didn't do anything. I sent you pictures of a dog and told you77777 that I'm sober. I was being happy and stuff Lauren Leave me alone!!!!!! Don't talk to me. Ryan ok9 Get some sober time and then talk to me. But don't talk to me now. Thank you Ryan I'm fine and the most sober I've been in a long time. it's not a competition. but i will look elsewhere for friendship, or just cut myself or something. This sucks either way. I'm not going to be your enemy. Because I'm not and never will be. I just lost my best friend of 3-4 years. The closest friend I've ever had.

[theexistentialistdancer]

On (Cultural) Appropriation

A number of months ago, I came across some images on Instagram that left me angry. They were of a famous Russian bellydancer who had visited China, and she had done a whole photo shoot in Chinese clothing, complete with a wig and yellowface makeup. Admittedly, the photos were beautifully done, and her photographer and stylist had created a fantastic scene for the shoot. However, the photos made me so angry, to the point where I wanted to comment in all capital letters to her to stop appropriating my culture. I stopped short though, because despite the anger that I felt about this very white, privileged girl wearing obvious yellowface, it prompted me to think about myself too.

 You see, I am always careful to not be a hypocrite. We all have blind spots and have mistakes in this world of intense racism, and I want to make sure I’m addressing my own issues if I’m going to speak on others’ behavior. Also, I am mixed Chinese and I definitely pass for almost anything besides Chinese. Even though “American-Born Chinese” is part of my own cultural heritage, I never want to be the one accusing someone else who might be mixed that they aren’t actually part of that culture or tradition; I myself have been interviewed by Chinese television about why I love kung fu as their “token white girl,” and the interviews are almost always abandoned when they realize they are talking to a mixed Chinese girl (with direct connections to the first Chinese martial arts school in NYC) instead of the white girl they wanted to interview. I know how it feels to be told that I’m not “____” enough, and it hurts if you have previously felt the pain of racism and discrimination to suddenly be rejected by that identity which had become part of a badge of honor. After suffering and finding identity in oppression, to be suddenly lumped in with the oppressor is shocking and painful. Once I had an ex tell me that now that I’m with a white guy, I’m white now. It was NOT pleasant. As a result, I shy away from angry responses to people when I don’t actually know their story.

 However, another level of this story is that it made me really examine my own relationship with being a bellydancer. I am American, and without a DNA test, I have no idea if I have any Middle Eastern/North African/Turkish (MENAT) background (if that means anything anyway). I have no cultural claim to Middle Eastern dance, nor do I speak the language, understand from a personal perspective the dynamics and sacrifices it takes to be a dancer as an Egyptian woman, or even come close to fully understanding the complexities of navigating the social systems in Egypt. Yes, I live here, but I live as foreigner. I have indeed sacrificed much in my life to become a performer, but these are the same sacrifices I would have made if I had been a jazz dancer or done any other kind of performance art. When I go to Egyptian weddings as a guest, I could absolutely be the center of attention and take the “stage” and dance in a way to make it clear I have extensive professional training and “I know what I’m doing,” but to what end? What message do I send to the Egyptian women in the audience that I’m a guest at their event and performing in a way to take the spotlight? Is is my right because I love the dance and have been trained in it by Egyptians? Will I come off as an asshole? Because of these complex questions, I usually wait until I am invited to dance by someone to get up on the dance floor. I already attract attention by being the only non-Egyptian in the event, so I try to be as respectful as possible to the event organizers. I have many chances to have my own stage during my paid performances, and it feels like these community events are better for observation in most cases.

 This brings up another topic: am I appropriating when I wear a costume and perform in Egypt? Are Egyptian audiences simply so used to seeing foreign dancers at this point, that they don’t think about it anymore? Am I taking jobs from Egyptian women by working here? The generally accepted definition of cultural appropriation is for the majority (in-power) culture to take what they want from a minority (disrespected/oppressed) culture and profit off of while simultaneously disrespecting and oppressing that very same culture. This question brought forth a lot of deep questions for me about how I feel about overarching Egyptian culture. How do I feel about the relationship between culture and religion in the country? How do I feel about ahwah culture, or how people do business, or the kiss-on-the-cheek greeting that is customary? How do I feel about the treatment of women, and do all these dynamics “work” for this country, or am I critical of it because it’s different than what I am used to seeing as “right?” As a social worker, how does my training and understanding of community apply to Egypt? Coming from a strongly-individualist society, how do I feel about Egyptian families and their emphasis on family ties? And, most importantly, if I find Egyptian culture to be abrasive and uncomfortable, where does that put me in terms of a performer of the art from this world? Do I still have a right to be a bellydancer, because I studied and trained from Egyptian teachers, if I truly do not like Egyptian culture? And further, do I have a right to make money as a performer if I find the culture to be in opposition of my own personal schemas and worldviews? As an American living in Egypt as part of an Egyptian family and experiencing culture shock, these are all questions I have grappled with in the last two years. No culture or society is perfect, but where we draw the line in criticism of foreign cultures is an important question. America has a long history of trying to impose its own beliefs and systems on other countries through war or other tactics, and I personally ask myself every day about these questions of balancing constructive criticism in my own circle of control versus coming off as that “know it all” Westerner who wants to tell another country what they are doing wrong. It is one thing to love the celebration aspect of a culture, such as weddings and parties, but to understand the entirety of the country, we have to understand the intense struggle that results in these equally elaborate parties. As dancers, are we willing to be in the struggle? To know how much families work and grind and fight for every bit of their success so that way they have a reason to celebrate? Do we love to watch men from Upper Egypt perform Saidi dance or Tahbib but also feel that Upper Egyptian men are scam artists that cannot be trusted? Are we subconsciously racist against the people from the culture while loving the dance and profiting from it?

 Not surprisingly, there are even more levels to this discussion that cannot be covered in one long, overly-thought-out essay. I think the biggest challenge I have faced as a dancer is examining what I have given back to this art form and this country, which includes respect and understanding for viewpoints that are different than what I am used to seeing in the USA. As a social worker, I try to employ Egyptians for all the work that I do here. I attempt to build better communication between tourists and tour guides whenever possible, because I want to be sure that miscommunications do not result in reinforced stereotypes of the “Arab merchant” trope (more on that later). Surely, it’s not enough, and I am positive that I will continue to struggle with these questions as time goes on and the dance world in Egypt becomes even more saturated with foreign dancers. I don’t want to sound like I am giving myself a big congratulations for attempting to contribute to the community; I often question if I even have a right to be here at all. In fact, this whole paragraph could be very problematic in lots of ways without even meaning to be: yay for the hero foreign woman who has come to “save” Egyptians (insert facepalm).

 Am I justified in my anger at the yellowface photos? Absolutely. But I am also grateful that seeing it prompted me to do a deep self-examination of my own actions and my own portrayal of Middle Eastern dance, and to always proceed with caution. As artists, I fully believe it is important to always revisit these questions and check in to see how we are doing in our beliefs and representation of the cultural dances we are representing. I also believe that if an artist finds themself hating the cultures of the MENAT region, voting in ways to exclude people from these countries, and otherwise participating in racist behaviors, they have no place participating in this art form any longer.

 In closing, I hope that anyone who reads this also does a deep personal examination of themselves and why they love this dance, why they are interested in the MENAT region of the world, and in what ways they may be harming or benefiting the real people of the culture. We do not live in a bubble, and orientalism is real and painful to these parts of the world. How can we approach this art form with humility and respect? As long as I continue to live here and oscillate between feeling like I’m home versus an outsider, I am positive I will continue to grapple with the questions raised here, and I fully expect to have to “check in” with my feelings in the future.

I also hope that it prompts us all to check our inner biases and triggers and not make broad assumptions about people’s lives based on an outward observation. We have no idea what others might be going through in their journey.